Hiii!!!! Welcome to my blog! Sorry it looks kinda boring but hey what am I gonna do about it🤷♀️
Anyway here on my blog I mainly have reblogs or stuff I like but occasionally I’ll have some stuff some of my own on here. The main stuff of my own would be if just stuff related to fanfic ideas or fanfic feedbacks but I am eventually planing on writing my own fanfics or oneshots.
Only thing I have on my page so far is a Tim Wright fanfic idea so go check it out and give me feedback back please 🙏 I appreciate honesty and new ideas.
Ermmm that’s all I really have for now so when I have more to say I’ll come back and edit😅
cw: vampires, kídnapping, slightly possessive levi, slight drúgging. Levi is Mikasa's caretaker, ackermans are vampires.
wc: 5,024
pt. 2
Paradis, a small English speaking town in the middle of nowhere Germany. It rarely gets many visitors– and those that it gets don’t stay for very long. The close knit town knows everything about everyone there, to some of the residents' dismay. The town consisted of old gothic style houses, a small church at one edge of town and a fountain in the exact middle with a statue of a woman holding a pot that poured water every moment of every day.
At the other edge of town sat a beautifully elegant gothic house, vines and moss had grown up the sides over time. Stained glass windows with iron bars over the outside of each one– was it to keep things out or in, no one knows. The house had been there for as long as anyone in the town could remember, passed down from family member to family member. Everyone in the town could tell you the residents kept to themselves, but when they would get the occasional glance of the dark haired family members– they moved like shadows.
The eccentric family looked as if an old photo came to life, their skin pale white and their outfits stark black. Despite the monochromatic appearance of their outfits they were enchanting to look at, almost as if people couldn’t pry their eyes off of them when they walked by. Shadows seemed to draw them out, their pale complexion attesting to such. Any chance of sun that day meant no sightings of the family.
The daughter was seen the most, usually carrying a big black lace parasol. Her outfits black like the rest, with red accents accompanying the black lace contrasting her almost paper white skin. She had a few friends within the town, her being the most sociable of the family, one being a short nerdy blond boy who was about her complete opposite, and a high strung brunette boy who was known throughout the town for being loud and rather brash. The two boys would stumble their way through town on sunny days, knocking at the door and waiting for her caretaker– a short pale man with a sour expression– to open the door for them to go inside. On cloudy days she would join them outside, usually sitting by the fountain in the extra shade from the large tree cascading over the fountain and its surroundings.
Her caretaker, the town assumed to be her older brother, was a short pale man who was known for rarely speaking to people unless necessary. He would wander the town during the early winter sunsets– a black overcoat covering his white button up, a cravat expertly tucked into the collar of his shirt. Townspeople referred to him as an old soul, cursed to look young forever. The family had slowly dwindled during the years, only two were ever seen leaving the house nowadays.
Knock Knock Knock!
The giant iron knocker on the front door sounds, the sun long gone from the sky and the moon starting to ascend from the east.
The door swings open quickly, the short sour man standing on the inside of the elegant house– looking at the stressed individual in front of him.
“Hi, I’m really sorry for bothering you this late. But do you know where I can get my car fixed? I’m visiting friends in town and my GPS was going insane when I got here, and then my car broke down, and then my phone died when I tried calling them for help and… I just don’t know what to do. Could I possibly come inside and charge my phone just enough to call them?” You ask, your head feeling suddenly light from how many things you could see from just the doorway of the old beautiful house.
“Hello, that sounds rather… unfortunate. Come inside, and I will fetch a cord for your phone.” The man steps to the side, inviting you in. You thank him and introduce yourself, extending your hand for a handshake as you catch your reflection in a mirror right by the entrance, along with the back of his head.
He nods at you, “Levi. Welcome in.” He leads you over to the living room, the room looking like a time capsule of old gothic furniture, a small lamp on the table next to the couch illuminating the whole room effortlessly in a warm yellow glow.
“Thank you, you know– I think this is the most vampire-like house I’ve ever seen. Apart from the mirrors that is.” You point to another mirror on the wall. The living room housed a wall entirely filled with bookshelves, books spanning almost the entire lifespan they could– some brand new, looking to be unread from how pristine they are. And some books looked like they had been there since the house was built– as if the bookshelf was made for them entirely.
A small chuckle leaves the short man. “Ah yes, family house– no reason to change the look of it if it works.”
“Well I think it’s beautiful.” You say, stepping further into the room and taking in the almost overwhelmingly grandiose decor.
“I’ll be right back with that… phone line for you.” He waves his hand around as if trying to remember the correct word for it before disappearing down the hallway. You slowly look over the room, the lamp shade even having an intricate design, however you’re drawn to the bookshelf– curious as to the old books that were there.
One title you recognize immediately as a classic, however the cover is one you’ve never seen before. Dracula. Bram Stoker. A bit on the nose for the vampire-esque house, no? Your finger draws up to the top of the book like a magnet– unsheathing it from its colleagues to get a good look at the cover. Hand bound it seems, the cover velvet and fraying– a test to how old it truly was. You turn it around to the back and are met with German text. A moment of confusion before remembering what country you were in, however your friends in town said German was the secondary language spoken– usually only the older generation here spoke it.
A floorboard creaking pulls you from your thoughts, you look over expecting the short man but are met instead by what looks to be a gothic teen girl staring at you, unblinking with a tilted head.
“Hello, you don’t live around here.” She says very matter-of-factly, the sentence almost chilling your body more than the dark night you had just walked out of.
“Uhm, you’re very right. I’m here visiting friends.” You shift your weight from foot to foot.
“Levi has a friend? How strange, could’ve sworn he was a shut-in.”
“Oh uhm, no. I-my car broke down and Levi is grabbing me a phone charger so I can call my friends.” You hold up your phone, which was basically an expensive brick as of now.
“That makes more sense. Levi doesn’t enjoy talking to people, surprised he let you in.” She says, her skirt swaying as she rocks from the heel of her foot to the ball and back again.
“I uhh-I like your outfit. You look nice.” You say, suddenly feeling small in her gaze. Her skirt was red with black lace hanging over it, her shirt black with lace sleeves trailing her arms. Tied together with a deep red stain of her lips, accentuating the cracks of her lips as she stared at you with the same eyes as the short man.
“Why thank you, took me quite a while to find such perfect clothes.” She says. “So you’ve never been here before?”
“Nope, first time. However if all houses are like this I might just move here.” You say, finding the distance between you two a bit off putting yet making no move to change it for yourself.
“It gets quite… homey after a while. Centuries don’t change much here, been the same for a while.” She says, almost as if she was the one experiencing it rather than the likely answer of the older generation saying it or her seeing it in old pictures.
“Well… that’s a good thing, right?” You respond, the house must be big if Levi is taking such a long time finding a phone charger.
“No new comers enjoy it, but we do. Townspeople mind their business enough.” She says, taking a single step closer– you feel almost claustrophobic at the small step despite her standing barely through the door frame, a good five feet away from you yet the feeling still creeps up your throat.
“Mikasa, don’t stay out too late. And don’t scare the company.” Levi says as he rounds the corner, holding a phone charger in his hands like he was offering it to the gods.
“Didn’t mean to scare your company. Have a good dinner, I’ll be home by morning.” She turns and walks away from the living room and out of your line of sight.
“Four at the latest.” Levi calls out, walking closer as the door opens.
“Fine. Have fun with your… company.” She calls out before the door shuts. Levi hands you the phone charger awkwardly, as if he had never held one before this very moment.
“Thank you, uhm…” You look around for an outlet you could plug it into. He walks out of the room with a glance back as if to tell you to follow him, which you do.
Had you seen her blink at all during that encounter?
“Don’t mind her, she’s just a peculiar teen.” He says as he leads you down the hallway and into a kitchen and dining room. The tiles of the walls have beautiful details of flowers. Old paintings covering the walls along with many a hanging plants hanging from the exposed rafters.
“Oh don’t worry, every teen has a phase like that, some never grow out of it. Just be lucky she tells you when she’s going out.” You say as he points to an outlet, plugging the charger in and setting down the book you had kept a hold on to plug in your phone.
“Yes, well, I must say our whole family has always been a bit peculiar. Dracula?” He picks up the book off the counter as you spin back to look at him, setting your phone against the cold marble countertop.
“Oh yeah, sorry I was just curious. It seems old. Must’ve been expensive.” You look into his cold stormy gray eyes.
“It’s been in the family for a while.” He says, handing the book back to you before gesturing back to the living room and you two make your way back there.
“So, do you speak German?” He asks, pointing to the book as you walk further into the living room.
“Uhm, the smallest little bit. I took it in school, but I didn’t retain much.” You confess as he stays standing in the doorway, his hands shoved inside his pockets.
“Would you like some tea?” He asks and you try to remember what the polite thing would be to do– is it a culture of accepting or not inconveniencing the host?
“Uhm I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or anyth-” You’re interrupted by a dry cough leaving your throat, quickly covering your mouth with your elbow.
“I’ll make you some tea. Rest, whilst I do so. Make yourself comfortable.” He turns and walks back to the kitchen and you sit down on the sofa, a dark red velvet soft to the touch.
“I’ll be right back with that… phone line for you.” He says, walking down the hallway, past the kitchen and to the bolted basement door. Unlocking it and closing it behind him swiftly before descending the dark staircase. Reaching the bottom of the stairs and flicking on the light, glancing over to the completely drained body from the town over– a shame really. The man fought so much just to die in the basement, and Levi thought he could’ve been added to the family– so nice at first.
Walking past the body and over to the shelves, opening one and searching through it. One of his meals had one on them when he brought them back home. It’s around here somewhere. He rooted around in the shelf, slamming it shut when he realized it wouldn’t have been in that one. He organized the relics from each of his meals based off a few things about them: age range being the first, how far he traveled to get them being the second, and the third was how much of a fight they put up.
He throws open the correct drawer, fishing out the cord easily and glancing it over a moment. Blood, of course. Why wouldn’t there be blood on it. Making the whole drawer dirty this entire time, but he’ll deal with that later.
He grabs a rag and wets it in the sink, wiping away the dried blood from the white cord. Tossing the rag into the sink he’ll deal with that later. Glancing at the body chained to his wall he’ll deal with that later.
Flicking the light off and ascending the stairs quickly. Locking the door behind him as he hears Mikasa’s voice. He knew she would, she always tries to get to his home meals before him.
“No new comers enjoy it, but we do. Townspeople mind their business enough.” She says, taking a step into the living room, slowly cornering you– exactly how he taught her.
“Mikasa, don’t stay out too late. And don’t scare the company.” He says, turning the corner– directly challenging her and indirectly telling her to back off you.
“Would you like some tea?” He asks, thank god you didn’t point out the many sedative plants growing in his kitchen– his plan would’ve been ruined if you did.
“Uhm I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or anyth-” You’re interrupted by a dry cough leaving your throat, quickly covering your mouth with your elbow. More the reason to make you some tea while your phone charges.
“I’ll make you some tea. Rest, whilst I do so. Make yourself comfortable.” He turns and walks back to the kitchen, taking a teacup from the cabinet and putting a pot of water on the gas stove. He glances to your phone as the screen lights up displaying the time and a notification, reading “Yo! Hows the drive coming?” He recognizes the name of one of the townspeople Mikasa had talked about hanging out with, apparently he was very cocky and loved to challenge one of her other friends to random competitions. The plug next to that one doesn’t work, what if he…
The plug comes out of the wall easily, he plugs it into the broken outlet. But it turned on, how do he get it to not. Tapping it? He fetches tea leaves from their container, the good tea, he must like you. He sets up the tea leaves in their cage, placing it into the cup while he waits for the water to boil. He opens a small container of Valerian Root, dosing just enough into the tea leaves to where the taste of the strong tea would overpower the taste but not the effects.
He waits for the water to boil in his brass tea kettle, tapping at the screen display of your phone until it went dark. Tapping it a few more times just for safe measure as the kettle started to ring out. Pouring the water over the cage of tea leaves and dried valerian root, watching as the water slowly turns darker as the tea steeps. Once the water was tinted black he pulls the cage out, setting it in the sink, he’ll deal with that later.
He walks the teacup over to you carefully, not to spill any as he makes his way to you. Setting the tea cup on the coffee table in front of you on a coaster. He may be planning to eat you, but he won’t ruin his table for it.
“Thank you, you’re very kind.” You take the tea cup and blow on the steaming brew– without a second thought as to what he could’ve put in there. If you continue being this nice he’ll have to train you to be more weary in the future, but for now it was helpful.
“It’s no big feat, wouldn’t want to leave you outside in the cold night all helpless.” He sits down on the other end of the couch, crossing his legs and adjusting his cravat as he looks at you gently blowing on the hot tea.
“Well I’m thankful you opened the door. Your neighbors didn’t, probably because it’s late at night.” You say, taking a small sip of the tea.
“They’re old, go to bed early. You wouldn’t want to talk to them anyways.” He dismisses with a handwave and a tilt of his head.
“Tea is great, what kind is it?” You ask, blowing on it again.
“Care to guess? It’s a blend of a few.” He can’t help but hide a smirk as you give him a perfect way to get you to continue drinking it. You hum before taking another sip, this one longer.
“Black tea.” You say with a small smile.
“Can you tell what kind?” He tilts his head, adjusting his dark overcoat as he interlocks his fingers and rests his folded hands on his lap.
“Oh I really only know Earl Gray and English Breakfast.” You confess, your cheeks heating up a little from the heat of the drink. The copy of Dracula discarded onto the coffee table along with the book Levi had been reading before you knocked.
“Ceylon. And what other kind?” He leans towards you just enough to be noticeable but not reactable.
“Uhm…” You take another sip, this one big– holding it in your mouth for a moment. “Green tea?” You guess, not being able to place it.
“Close, guess again.” He prompts and you take a few more sips, your confusion growing as you try to figure it out. Your tiredness from the day slowly hitting you as you relax onto the couch. The warmth from the tea being a comforting presence after the stressful night you had before entering this house.
“Rooibos?” You guess, your nose scrunched up as you await his response.
“Not quite.” He smiles at you, if you didn’t know any better you’d be stumbling out a compliment at how good he looks when he smiles. Instead you drown out the comment with a big swig of tea, swishing it around in your mouth before swallowing.
“Would I be crazy for saying raspberry leaf tea?”
“No, there is some in there, good job. One more.” He praises, and you feel your body start to turn warm just from the tea though, not from the praise or anything else. You quickly take another sip, the tea having cooled significantly since your first small sip.
“It smells like my cherry blossom tea I drink, but I don’t think that would go well with these other ones.” You laugh, taking another sip.
“I’m intrigued, I don’t think I’ve ever had that kind of tea before.” He scoots towards you a little, covering it by leaning forward to readjust.
“Oh it’s wonderful, it’s green tea I think, might be floral. Anyways, it’s really good. I usually drink that or vanilla black tea in the mornings.” You smile at him.
“Sounds good, I might have to find some just to try it.” He grins at you, entranced by your smile and the way you talk about the tea you love. You take another sip of the tea, now a third of the way through the cup– your movements slightly slowed.
“It’s earthy, but in a good way.” You bite your lip in thought before taking another sip. “My lack of knowledge is really hitting me here I think. It’s not cinnamon, it’s not cherry blossom, it’s not lemon balm is it?” You ask, trying to remember all of the tea offered at the cafe near your house.
“It’s not lemon balm.” He states, his arms crossed under his black overcoat. The button up he was wearing, pristinely white almost to a fault. Your blinks slow just enough to where you don’t notice, but he does.
“Hmm.” You hum before finishing the tea off. “Damn, tell me what it was.” You set the cup down on the coaster again, making sure it was align before sitting back against the couch.
“Chamomile.” He stands, grabbing the cup. “I’ll go wash this out and check if your phone is on yet.” He says. He knows the phone will not be on, but you don’t.
“Thank you, really. It means the world you’ve let me in, let alone given me tea.” You thank as he walks towards the doorway.
“It’s really no problem at all. I’m happy to.” Happy to dine well for the next few days. His meal was delivered right to him nonetheless. Maybe even another member to the family. The house does get a little lonely when Mikasa goes out for the night– no matter how much he didn’t want to admit it.
He rinses out the cup, scrubbing away all the germs you left before setting it to dry on the mat. Taking the cage of tea leaves and emptying it out of the window into the compost below. Walking back to the living room and sitting closer to you this time.
“Phone is still not on.” He says as he sits down.
“Dang, I’m sorry it’s taking so long.” You say, folding your hands in your lap– going to raise your feet to sit criss cross but being reminded you’re wearing your shoes still. “Oh, I didn’t take these off when I came in. Should I have?” You ask, worried about mucking up the beautiful carpet underneath your feet. You might be perfect to keep as an extra family member, but Levi really shouldn’t get his hopes up– he needs to see what you’re like after you’re in the basement for a bit.
“Oh, here I’ll put them by the door. Thank you.” He gets up and waits for you to slip your shoes off, making a big show of placing your shoes in a noticeable enough spot to make sure you wouldn’t forget them when you leave. As if he was letting you leave, such a cheeky man really.
He sits down again, this time even closer, leaning forward to grab the copy of Dracula. “Have you ever read it?”
“Once, I was trying to read through all the classics. I got through Dracula and Frankenstein before I got sidetracked. I wish I had the time to finish all of them however.” You confess, smiling at him. All the more reason for you to become a family member, all the time in the world to read the classics– and anything else you possibly want. He opens the book, flipping through the pages to find a particular passage. Chapter three, when Johnathan realizes he was trapped in the castle. Perfectly on the nose, and they won’t even notice.
“Als ich entdeckte, dass ich ein Gefangener war, überkam mich ein wildes Gefühl. Ich rannte die Treppe auf und ab, versuchte, jede Tür zu öffnen und spähte aus jedem Fenster, das ich finden konnte; aber nach einer Weile überwältigte mich die Überzeugung meiner Hilflosigkeit und alle anderen Gefühle traten in den Hintergrund. Wenn ich nach ein paar Stunden zurückblicke, denke ich, dass ich in dieser Zeit verrückt gewesen sein muss, denn ich verhielt mich ähnlich wie eine Ratte in einer Falle.” He reads out, watching as your eyes start to droop and you lean back into the couch as your body grows tired.
“Wow, that sounded almost melodic. Your German is really nice to hear.” You compliment, your body relaxing against the grandiose red velvet couch with a smile on your face.
“That is very nice of you. You mentioned you took German in school, did you recognize any words?” He asks, if he distracts you from how tired you are– you won’t try to fight the growing tiredness.
“Uhm… I recognized the word ‘ich’.” You laugh at only recognizing such a simple word like ‘I’
“Is that all?” He asks, a small smile on his face. Why is this person making him smile so much, dear Dracula, draining you will be hard. Hopefully you’ll agree to become a family member, having someone like you around would be nice.
“Yeah… I didn’t retain much from my classes. You know it’s funny, the gothic house and Dracula. It would be almost too perfect if you were a vampire.” You laugh at the absurdity of that even being a possibility.
“Too perfect.” He agrees, watching as your body grows tired in front of him.
“Good thing I saw your reflection, otherwise I’d probably be freaking myself out with the thought of vampires existing.” You say, remembering you had seen the back of his head in the mirror when you walked in.
“That is a good thing, wouldn’t want you freaking out over such a thing while waiting for your phone to charge.” He places the book onto the couch where he had been seated before he got up. Folding his hands and placing them in his lap. His posture almost annoyingly perfect, never slouching even when sat on such a comfortable couch. You wouldn’t register the fear properly anymore, and he knows it.
“You know, if vampires were alive today, they would have reflections in most mirrors.” He tilts his head to the side as he delivers his fun fact.
“Oh really, why is that?” You ask, curling your body up on his couch.
“The reason old vampires couldn’t see their reflection was because mirrors were made out of silver. Now mirrors are made out of mainly glass. However some still have silver inside them.” He reaches out and adjusts your hoodie string, smoothing it out gently before pulling his hand back.
“That’s really cool. Why are vampires in mythology weak to silver?” You ask, tucking your arms around your waist as you nuzzle into the couch.
“It’s a holy metal. Just like garlic is a holy food. Vampires are unholy, devil reincarnate vampires used to be called.” He watches as you yawn, you barely register it happens as you pay attention to his words.
“Seems like twilight changed that perception though, most teen girls would’ve killed to be vampires.” You rub at your face with your balled up sweatshirt sleeve.
“That you are right. Mikasa enjoys those movies and books, made me put her copies on the bookshelf.” He nods over to the middle of the three large bookshelves, Mikasa had made him put the five books on display.
“I enjoyed them, teen drama is a good genre. Even if their vampires weren’t fully accurate.” You mumble as you turn back to look at him, resting your head against the back of the couch.
“According to what she told me about them, they’re very wrong. Sparkling in sunlight, how wrong can you actually write vampires.” He grumbles, remembering the glittery skin of the so-called vampire on the movie screen. You laugh at his grumblings, fighting to keep your eyes open.
“Yeah, that was a dumb decision. Especially around the time body glitter was a big thing, so easy to pass off. But how else would the hundred year old teen go to school?” You giggle, your head lolling forward for a second before you force it back up.
“If you’re feeling tired it’s okay to close your eyes for a moment. It is getting quite late after all.” He rests his hand on your shoulder, this meal was falling asleep rather fast– he couldn’t help but be nice about it.
“No, no. I don’t want to fall asleep on your couch. That would be rude.” You sniff and try to blink the sleep induced blur from your eyes, bringing a hand to rub at your face again. You’ll be falling asleep somewhere much less comfortable for a while after this.
“I insist it’s fine. But if you would like, I’ll go check your phone to see if it is on yet.” He reminds you of your phone being charged in the kitchen.
“Oh, thank you. Please, that would be wonderful.” You say, he pats your shoulder before standing up and walking out of the room. The silence that befalls the living room is dragging your consciousness from your body– and it was as if you had nothing to grab onto to keep it from dragging you. You curl up further onto the couch, your breath evening out as you vow to yourself that you’ll wake up when he walks back in the room.
A minute passes, and you’re curled up on his couch, and he’s not back in the room yet. He is down in the basement removing the body from the shackles, tossing it into the crawlspace which he sealed off from the rest of the house– the smell being too dirty to allow any air to escape.
Five minutes pass and he’s cleaning up the area quickly, scrubbing the disgusting germs from that man off the floor and chain. He takes the sheet off the thin mattress and tosses it, along with the rag from earlier, into the laundry room. Retrieving a fresh pair of sheets and a thin blanket for you before making the bed up.
Seven minutes pass and he’s walking back upstairs and into the living room, where you are passed out on his velvet couch. He laughs and picks you up, without a moment of apprehension.
Carefully walking you down the stairs to the basement and laying you out on the thin mattress, clicking the chain closed around your ankle. He takes a step back to look at you, peacefully laying in his basement. He leans back in and covers your body with the blanket, brushing your hair out of your face before he ascends the stairs, locking the basement door behind him.
"Fuck- Baby. Thank you, than- *mmf* thank you baby. Thank you so much you're so good and perfect for me. Thank you so much *Mmf- FUCK it's so good. You're so good-* Holy fuck darlin'- *shit-* Sorry, 'm not watching my language, can't help it. You're too good to me."
and it's Eyeless Jack. Posted up on the rickety wooden bed, sniper position on his stomach. Face BURIED in your junk like it's the last bit of food on earth.
(sidenote. Found out my boyfriend found my tumblr and has read everything. Thank that man for being so fabulous in a relationship he inspired me. SAY THANK YOU.)
Summary: When reader is a girl who goes from living in the city to the countryside in order to help a family friend out. Little did she know this choice would cause a lot more to happen in her life.
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Chapter #5
The sun had barely began to rise when I woke up. A bit of hints of dawn starting to show through the white curtains of my window. I lay there calm as silence surrounds me, feeling way to comfortable on this horrible bed I’m on. As I lay there basking in the calmness I suddenly remembered I had to up early. With this thought playing in my head I yet still stay in bed for a bit resisting having to peal myself out of my bed and my comfort.
Some time passes of me just laying there…
Then I finally get up groaning as I get my towel and head to the bathroom to get myself ready for the day. I will admit I was feeling lazy, it was only my second day on the job so I shouldn’t be but I am one of those people that if you sleep good you stay sleepy instead of energetic. I hop in the shower and wash myself up. I take my time, my tired self and the nice warm water made me feel like I was on a warm cloud and that I could fall back asleep as I was. After a long while the concern of using too much water in the shower from back when I lived in an apartment rushed back to me. Having to pay so much for running water if I had used to much so I finish up my shower as quick as I could and wrapped myself in my towel and head back to my room.
Despite me walking slowly my steps still sent creaks through the house, I close my eyes as I take deep breaths calmly waking myself up even more as I walk back into my room. I was about to drop my towel to get dressed when I finally opened my eyes and made eye contact with another pair of eyes. I jumped back a bit clenching my towel around me as let out a small yelp. “Jesus!” I screamed as the other person let out a “shhhh! Unless you wanna wake up everyone else in this house.”. It was Tim, he was here in my room! “I thought I told you to be ready early.” He says as start to recover from my frightened state my heart still beating very fast and loud, I swear Tim could hear it.
“Uh?? Get out my room??!??!! Why are you even I here can’t you see im not even dresses?!” I say still pretty loudly. “How was I supposed to know you were in the shower.” He says more like a statement rather than an actual question, a bit of sad in his tone. “ I came in here looking for you so we could start heading out.” He continues as he turns around then reaching for the grocery list I made the night before holding it up so I could see from behind him. “You gonna need this?”. “Uhh yeah, it’s a grocery list.” I say with a bit of attitude still baffled of all this and WHY he was still in my room. “No need for the sass girl.” In a bit of a deeper tone. “Then get out my room.” I snap back, he puts his hands up as if he was surrendering and turns back around to facing me and walking towards the door.
Remembering how little space there was in the room I realized that he would have to squeeze passed me out the door. This just made things awkward for me he mumbles a small “scuse me” as we brush each other as he walked out taking the grocery list with him. I got a whiff of him and he smelt mainly of cigarettes and a bit of outside. As he’s finally out I closed the door and decided to pick an outfit. I decide to go with something cute but more plane, also something appropriate for the hot humid weather. I decide to go with a pair of denim shorts (a bit longer than the ones in the reference photo), a plain white under shirt, and one of my short sleeve button up shirts left in buttoned, along with some ashy brown boots.
I decide to then the my hair back into a low ponytail and leaving it as it was instead of doing a slick back. I’ve honestly never been a fan of slick backs only really doing them for work back in the office. I finish up by butting on small jewelry like earrings, a necklace, and a bracelet. Honestly I need to stock up on jewelry, I’ve always loved jewelry just never had a lot. I walk down stairs for my sights to be met with Tim, but only Tim. I decide to ask “Where Brian? You guys seem to always be around each other.” Tim grumbles a small “Not here.” Before grabbing his keys and walking out the front door as if expecting me to just follow after him…and I did. With him a few steps in front of me I jog a bit to catch up, he’s already hopping in the drivers seat as I head tit he passengers side. Tim had one of those old red stereo-typical country trucks that looks Ike it’s been through the mud, as a girl who never really concerned herself with car brands I couldn’t tell the type of car it was. As I open the passenger door I see that the front is a three seater, being able to fit only three people in the car since there were no back seats. I then look to try e back window and see that Tim had a ready to go gun just hanging there…concerning me a bit.
I must have not realized my concern was worn on my face when I’m snapped out of it by Tim saying “Don’t worry about it, it’s unloaded.” With a a cigarette already lit and in his mouth. I say a small breathy “okay” as hop inside trying to take off the fact that the gun was dirty with some dried up rusty dark brown covered splotches. I wasn’t dumb, or maybe I was just too paranoid around guns since I was never fond of them but it made me think of dried up blood. “Buckle up.” I turn and face Time nodding my head putting on my seatbelt as I see Tim pull out where the truck was parked and start driving down the long driveway out the house.
The ride was bumpy and a bit quiet other than the small radio playing a random country song, nor me or Tim spoke a single word. I spent my time looking out the window, honestly mesmerized by the view of the country side. Nothing like the city, at all.
Small time skip—————————>
We were finally near the small town. There were a lot more house that actually have neighbors unlike Ms.Frances’s house that’s just in a random plot of land so the no neighbors in sight. I could see people walking and riding bikes the occasional car driving past. As we go deeper we arrive to a small type of town where everything was in a good walking distance from each other, not too far from each other but also not too close. Through the car ride Tim had finished his cigarette but as he got out the car u see him lighting a new one. ‘My gosh, addicted much’ I think to myself but decide not to say it out loud since I was still a bit scared of Tim it also wanted to be respectful. “Keep up.” He says as I see him start walking to a grocery store.
The outside wasn’t what grocery stores would look like in the city but not to also mention, the inside was a lot smaller on the inside. Me and Tim walk in and I decide to grab a small cart and start making my ways when I was grabbed by my arm and tugged back a bit. “You’re stayin with me sug can’t have you gettin lost in here.” Tim says but I say “I’m not a kid I’ll be just fine but thank you tho” as I continue to try and walk off but I will admit Tim was strong, his grip not wavering. “I said you’re gonna stay with me, plus you need this don’t ya?” He says raising an eyebrow with a small smirk as he takes the grocery list I had completely forgot about out of his pocket and right in front of my face. “Alright then, I’ll stay with you.” I give up and follow him around, and honestly it wasn’t bad for groceries with Tim.
We get all done with the groceries (which Tim payed for all of them) and we head out the store and pack them into the car. As I was going to hop in Tim says “We ain’t done here, still gotta get more stuff.” Pointing to an area with his head as he walks off. I jog a bit after him and we just walk past a few stores. On this walk I look around and can’t help but notice all the missing peoples posters. There was so much, a lot more then I had ever seen in my life and that’s including amber alerts on my phone. The missing people posters were of all different types of people, old, teenagers, but also mainly kids… This freaked me out, bad. I decide to ask “Uh Tim?” He peeps at me from over his shoulder as me continue to walk, “What’s with all the missing posters? Is there something going on in the area?” I notice a small tense in Tim’s posture, barely noticeable to the point I thought nothing of it, but it was the darkened look Tim had right after the questions that scared me. “None of your concern missy. Don’t dwell too much on it let’s go.” He says sternly as we continue.
We finally make it to Tim’s store, a gun store… I was bored out of my mind as Tim looked for his gun stuff or whatever until left. As we walked out I saw a store that caught my eyes. It looked girls from the outside, not to mention the clothing and jewelry set out in the display window. I stood and stared a bit, Time having to stop and turn back to where I stopped as he had already started walking back in the direction of the car. “Caught your eye?” “Yeah it really does.”I replied. “Let’s go in then, come one.” This surprised me a bit seeming out of character in my opinion for Tim but before he could go in I let out a small noise that showed I was unsure as well as scrunching my nose a bit. “Whas wrong?” “Nothing just… I don’t really have money. I mean I do! It’s just I’ve noticed places like these don’t take online payments a lot and that’s there all my money is, maybe we could find an atm before?” Tim looks down at his watch with a small grumble he said “Got not time, don’t wanna get back too late.” He was right, even tho I didn’t know what time it was I wanted to get back before Frances woke and to make breakfast. “I guess next time.” I say shrugging my shoulders as I turn to walk off but.. “I could just pay for you, don’t mind at all. Got money to spare.”
This once again surprised me a bit, I wasn’t expecting this of Tim. “It’s okay really, I wouldn’t want to owe you anyways.” I smile the offer being sweet but still I would feel guilty to waste someone’s money on something for me when I could just get it myself. Tim gives me a dead pan stare and stays like that for a bit then says “Get your damn self in this store instead of wasten my time little girl.” Now THIS blows my eyes wide. He then walks inside expecting me to follow after him…and I did once again.
As we are both inside we are greater by a lady at the counter. He thick accent greeting us with a small “Hey, welcome in!” As she goes back to doing something behind the counter. It’s almost a lot prettier on the inside I could see all my options now, I wasn’t one for really the country girl style but I mean guessing where I’m staying now that’s all they’ll be selling in the stores. The style wasn’t bad but just never thought I’d ever dress that way. As me and Tim take a few steps in the lady at the counter calls out “Sir! You can’t smoke in here.” Her time a bit different now. It was a bit more flirty, I roll my eyes not wanting to be stuck in an awkward position of the one in the middle of flirting so I make my way deeper in the store as I hear the door open and close which I presumed was Tim throwing his cigarette out.
I looked around really trying to put together outfits and matching accessories while Tim kinda just followed me around. He would occasionally add small little comments like “That’s cute.” Or “Don’t you think thatll be showin too much?” which irked me a bit but none the less it was helpful input in a way. Still picking stuff out I decide to make small conversations. “Sooo…” I drag out “How’d you and Brian come to work for Ms.Frances?”. “He care taker at the time had put up signs around asking for help with farming jobs and such and it didn’t sound too bad.” Tim replies. “Care taker at the time? You mean Matthew?” I asked. “No some lady before him.” Hmmm… I thought Matthew was one of the only people who cared for her before me. “What happened to her? Well why’d she stop working there?” I continue to question while picking up random clothing and giving them a good look before adding them to my cart.
“Don’t know.” Tim replied. “Okayyy…” I drag out indicating I didn’t believe his plane answer. “Well what do you do for fun Tim, or what do you do outside of working on the farm? You stay close by?” Genuine curiosity coming from me, plus I wanted to know everything about these guys since I work with them from now on. “What is this twenty-one questions?” a bit of one of Tim’s dark chuckles following right after. “I don’t think any of my business is any of your business.” That was his answer to my questions and it made me feel a bit self conscious. That I was being annoying and picky when I was just trying to make conversation. “Alright, my bad” I say going back to my clothing.
We go to the check out and the lady is standing there scanning each item I got, noticeably looking at Tim up and down a small smirk on her lips as she completely ignores me. As she’s still scanning she breaks the silence. “So this your boyfriend? Real nice of him to be buyin you all this stuff.” She says giggling. I open my mouth to deny it but before I could make a noise Tim’s says a quick “Mind your business and wrap this up quick.” Very stern and cold but again I wouldn’t be surprised by his tone, but his tone clearly shocked the lady who didn’t say another word and finished bagging my items. Tim payed and we left, walking back to the car Tim always a few steps in front of me.
We load everything in the car, get in and drive back to the house. Quiet at first “Thank you for paying for everything, one day I’ll come to the atm and pay you back.” I say quietly not wanting to talk too loud since it’s been silent for a while. “It’s alright sweet heart no need to.” Tim replied and said nothing more. He once again lights a cigarette and starts to smoke it.
I notice we start heading to a different side of the small town instead of out of it, “Where are we going?”. “To the dinner gonna pick up breakfast there and head home.” I nod my head and enjoy the rest of the ride. We make it to the diner and we head inside.
You could tell it was kinda old, like almost everything in this town or area as a matter of a fact but none the less it was lively. There was many people inside I start looking for a normal table to sit at as Tim just tugged me towards the counter. As we sat there a waitress took our order. By the looks of it she seemed young probably a high schooler who works on the weekends. We order coffee, Tim gets a plain black coffee which didn’t surprise me at all. It made me giggle a bit at how stereotypical it was for him but when it was my turn I decided to order an ice coffee. The waitress just stared at me then made eye contact with Tim and giggled. I looked confused, was there something wrong with my order? That’s until Tim leaned over and said “they don’t serve that here, maybe only in the city.” The waitress over heard giggling more but bites her lip to hold it back.
“Oh alright, uhhh I guess I’ll just get a uhhh.” I lifted the menu and flipped to the drinks area, a milkshake catch my eye. I look at Tim at the side of eye and I guess he got the memo as he grumbles and I smirk. “I’ll get a chocolate milkshake.” I smile sweetly as the waitress walks away putting in our order of drinks. I sit there looking around when I’m snapped out my daze by whispers and laughs. I turn my head and notice that same waitress whispering with other workers and customers. It was obvious they were laughing at me for I could pick up small key words along the lines of my order, my clothing, how I spoke, and how I looked. This made me self conscious as I slouch a bit more confidence washing away. “Pay no mind to it.” My head snaps to the side to look at Tim whose rough voice reached my ears unexpectedly. I don’t answer and just continue to sit there waiting on my drink.
Our drinks are server to us and I waste no time sipping on my drink. It was good. The mix of the taste of chocolate, sugar, milk, and some wip cream all going down my stomach. “Tim looked at me with a raised eyebrow then shook his head closing his eyes for a moment as if disappointed, going back to his coffee.
Fast forwarding a bit me and Tim order breakfast to go for everyone and take it to the house. We start unloading everything such as groceries and setting the food inside. While Tim put some of the food in the fridge I take care of my job in serving Frances her breakfast once again leaving her to head back out to the car to finally grab my bags of clothing and accessories. I won’t lie I got a good few things, so the struggle bringing them in was apparent. As I walked through the front door I notice Brian had came in through the back door considering it was now open. From what I could hear he was questioning Tim on why he was gone, but when he noticed me he seemed to stop. “Well, well, well. You both went shopping without me?” He said in a teasing sad tone as he puts a fake pout on his face which doesn’t last long as a smirk couldn’t help but shine through and he diverted his gaze to Tim who already looked annoyed with his antics.
“Took the Barbie for more clothes to dress her up in?” Brian laughs. “It ain’t nothin like that and you know it.” Tim says irritated with him. I interjected “Good morning Brian. We got you some breakfast, help yourself while I got put these in the room.” I smile and start walking upstairs. “Gonna give us a fashion show with all the new clothes you go?!” He yells after me then laughing loudly as I hear the noise of bags opening which I assumed was him getting to the food. I roll my eyes to myself at his comment ad I make it to my room and set my things down. I head to Frances’s room after with my food and decide to keep her company the rest of the morning before I take her downstairs to watch tv.
The rest of the day flew by like nothing filed with me completing chores and taking care of Frances. I didn’t see Tim or Brian for the rest of the day, I didn’t even see them when they left. I think nothing of it, especially since Matthew did say they rarely come into the house I guess part of that was true. The night goes by with ease as I finish up, strangely no paranoia tonight. I shower and head to bed drifting off into another easy nightfull rest.
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A/N: Yall I’m tired… I seem to only ever write all in one sitting all in the middle of the night. That might explain the story kinda not make sense at times and horrible spelling😬 forgive me 😓. I am trying my best. I kinda wanna ease into the sinisterness of Tim and Brian’s ‘other work’ so it might not show now. Along with the romance parts. I won’t ask for likes or anything the only thing I actually really want are opinions, criticism and thoughts PLAESE. I feel like I’m begging every chapter but 🤷♀️. Anyways ima try to sleep now BYE BYEEEE!!
Before story: read the other part PLEASEEE but also please leave opinions on the story in comments. Also the images shown in this chapter or any chapter and just references and especially of the house because I want to and MIGHT make my own sketch/layout of the house and stuff. Also no images are mine at all they were all found online. This one’s a bit of a long one to me. Continuation of last chapter + the next day.
Summary: When reader is a girl who goes from living in the city to the countryside in order to help a family friend out. Little did she know this choice would cause a lot more to happen in her life.
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Chapter#4
I stay in the front door way until Matthew’s car was completely out of sight, still pretty dumb founded. I turn my head to the side once again looking at the ash tray. I brought the two guys to mind again. It was all so strange.. Matthew acting weird, the two guys which were not mentioned at all, everything. I close my eyes for a second and take a deep breath. ‘I mean I’m already here so I’m gonna have to deal with this for now…doesn’t mean I’ll forget about this..’ I think to myself. I decide to close the screen door and the actual door and lock them both. I turn and look up to the old clock on the wall and saw the time read 11:…something, the clock was so old I could only see the big hand and barely anything else and honestly I wasn’t gonna worry myself on it especially since the clock most likely wasn’t even really working.
I turning off the remaining small lights still on and make sure that the back doors were also locked, after I head up the stairs on the way to my room. It was at the very back off the hall to the left. I opened the door and I wasn’t kidding when I said my room was relatively small. There was a small dresser up against one wall while on the other side was a small twin sized bed, a wooden bed frame, white sheets with designs, and small little pillows. On the edge of the bed was a trunk of some sorts for storage but when I opened it it was empty. It’s clear this room was most likely for show instead of for someone to actually stay in. The sheets were paper thin, the smallest pillows in the world, and the mattress was hard as rocks, not to mention the room not being very spacious. The only other thing in the room was a window. It was a rectangular window, long ways. It had nice little thin white curtains to cover it. Looking out the window it faces the backyard so from my view I could see the barn, the garden, the small lake, and of course the line of trees.
Despite it not being ideal I’ll have to make do with what I’ve got. I head to my luggage on the bed and grabbed myself a pair of pajamas and my towel along with other huge stuff like face wash and a toothbrush and headed to the bathroom. On my way there I became aware that almost everything in the house made noise even when I was trying to be my quietest, since Frances’s room was right across from mine I didn’t want to wake her. Opening my room door. It creaked. Tiptoeing down the hall. It creaked. Opening the bathroom door…. It creaked. The noise finally stopped when I made it inside the bathroom since the floor was tile. I looked at myself in the mirror and saw I actually didn’t look too bad after the whole day, I start brushing my teeth and washing my little bit of makeup away before I start heading for the shower. I turn the shower nob and…. It creaked.. SO LOUD. I cringed not wanting to make too much noise. I hop in the shower and let myself relax a bit my mind drifting back to..whatever that was with the two guys and Matthew but my mind drifted to one in specific. The guy with the darker hair.
He seemed the most off putting out of the both it was just weird. Everything really not just him. It also made me think that, if Matthew told me they would also be working here just in the farm.. why wouldn’t he tell me their names?.. why tell me they’re nothing to worry about when they are basically working at the same place as me? ‘Ughhh’ I decide to just put up with everything and get it off my mind for now. I feel as if I need to stop being so accusing and suspicious of everything and everyone. This could all just be chalked up to me not being used to the new setting, job, and people since I’ve never done anything like this before. I slip out the shower hop in my pjs and try my best to fall asleep on the worst bed every made, but I will admit the quietness of the country side lulling me to sleep caused me to fall into a good deep sleep.
The next day_________________________________________>
I wake up the next morning to a continuous hitting noise. I sit up and stretch still wondering what the hitting noise could be, in my confusion I see the list of things for my job on the dresser and decide to go over them. First thing was making Frances breakfast that she usually eats in bed. I glance at my phones time and it read 7:17am. Reasonable time to be up in the morning, while going over the list I couldn’t help but grow annoyed with the constant …‘thunk!’…..’thunk!’…..’ thunk!’… Ringing throughout the house but it didn’t sound like it was coming from inside the house but rather outside it.
I walk out my room but before going to investigate the noise I peep my head into Franceses room, seeing she was still sound asleep in bed then I headed down stairs. I tried to follow the noise while also thinking of what could be made for breakfast. I finally make it downstairs and right there is the back door. The back door was wide open but the screen door was closed. This alarmed me. It wasn’t like that last night, and the only people in the house being me and Frances and we’ve both been asleep. In fact I remember making sure that it was locked. The closer i got to the door the louder the noise got.
I opened the screen door, my guard up. For all I know it could be some type of crazy animal or some one had broken in. I then look out and let’s just say I was met with….quite a sight. It was the guy from yesterday, the dark haired one
He was chopping wood with an axe none stop. He chopped one, picked up the next, chopped that one, picked up the next, and repeat. Also by the looks of it he was shirtless. His back was facing me so he hadn’t seen me yet but as I continue to open the screen door…..it creaked…
He snaps his head quickly to the side in my direction, looking over his shoulder, back still turned, a dark look in his eyes as he just looks at me. I jumped. I got a bit nervous and scared I splat out a quick “Oh! uhm Good Morning! ..sirrr..?” I say ‘sir’ with uncertainty, I have yet to know the guy let alone his name, not to mention he did look older than me. He just sat there and stared which made me even more nervous and once again made me aware of how dumb I probably look. I was still wearing my bonnet, accompanied with my fuzzy socks, slippers, mismatch pajama top and bottoms, just looking like a complete fool. I decide to just push that to the back of my mind when he just mumbled a quick and quiet “ mornin” before turning his head back around and going back to chopping more wood.
I just stood there not completely ready to end the conversation, I mean come on, Matthew practically left me in the dust and I’d rather be accompanied with two only other people here, MEN to be specific instead of being complete strangers. I need a way to feel myself around with this weird off putting vibe going on. “Uh sir?” I let out interrupting his wood chopping once again. He turns his head only looking at me from over his shoulder again with an annoyed look in his eyes that’s also said ‘you better say something worth my time’. “Is your friend here also? You know, the one I saw with you yesterday?” He raised an eyebrow just a bit almost barely noticeable. Giving the look of ‘why do you ask’ without having to say it. “I-I was just about to make breakfast for Ms.Frances and I thought it’d be pretty rude to not at least offer you two some since you guys are working here.” I say squinting my eyes and covering them a bit with my hand since the sun began to shine way brighter now.
The guy just stares again…’man he’s got a real staring problem’ I think to myself but it was either a staring problem or he just stares at me every time I talk to him just to make me feel awkward on purpose in order for me to leave him alone. I stand there playing a small smile on my face to seem a bit more friendly, he mumbles out a small “sure.” before turning around and going right back to wood chopping.
‘That’s getting somewhere…. still hasn’t told me his name yet..’ I think to myself heading back inside but before I start cooking I was most definitely going to go change. I head to my room and take my bonnet off first seeing my hair still looking decent. I then fish in my trunk for an outfit I guess more appropriate than the dressy clothing like yesterday. I ended up choosing a mid length brown skirt that stopped right below my knees and a short sleeve low cut but long gray shirt. It was breathable and airy so it felt perfect to me, instead of wearing shoes I decided to wear my slippers still since there was really no reason for me to leave the house but just incase I set aside a pair of flats.
I head back downstairs and straight to the kitchen. I look in the old fridge to see what I had to work with and planed out what was for breakfast and got to cooking. Most of the pans were rusty as well as the cabinets and drawers but honestly it wasn’t a bother. I decided to go basic. For breakfast I decided on making scrambled eggs, some French toast, sausages since there was no bacon in the fridge ‘making a mental note to restock on foods’, some cut up potatoes, and with what’s left of the packaged pancake mix, small little pancakes.
I decided to make the pancakes first, then the French toast since they would be the easiest. Then I moved on to the potatoes since they needed pealing boiling and of course seasoning, then the sausages next then ending with the easiest the scrambled eggs. I decided on the eggs last so they would still be hot because no one likes cold eggs. I plated the food, two plates for the two men then two for of course me and Frances. I grab the small table from the kitchen and head up the stairs to Frances’s room and open the door, she’s still asleep so I put the plate in one hand and the small table under the same arm to shake her awake from my other. “Wake up.!!” I say In a sing-song type of tone to wake her up gentle but still loud enough to actually wake her. “Ms.Frances its me Y/N!!! It’s time for breakfast!!”
She finally got up and satup to a point where I was able to set up the small table in front of her and set her plate down. “Oh! I forgot your silverware, I’ll be right back!” I say as I stood up and left her room. She let out a little grumble. I walked into my now room switching to the flats and headed downstairs.
I knew Matthew already told me that she doesn’t really talk at all and if she did it wasn’t much so I guess I should have expected her to just make noises. I grab silverware for everyone and headed back up the stairs to give her her silverware. I then leave her, back downstairs and grabbed the plate for the two men set it on the table with the silverware along with a cup of orange juice each.
I step out onto the back porch but I no longer see the guy. I looked around from the porch and still saw nothing. I step off the porch and walk a few feet forward onto the small trail, barely noticeable but the grass covering it. I peered out to the backyard from where I was and saw movement from afar. It was the two guys…walking out of the line of trees all the way at the back…huh… Pretty weird but it couldn’t be that weird I mean anyone can be in the forest for any reason. I mean the dark haired guy was just cutting wood so they must have just been doing some thing related to the I don’t know. I stop trying to make up explanations for them and start waving at them, my hand stretched up high hoping for them to see. The blond guy put his hand up in a way to tell me he saw me and I took that as my sign they were coming. Since they were still a ways out I go back upstairs to check on Frances. I pep my head in just a bit and see her slowly chewing her food so seeing that she was alright I let her be once again.
I finally head back downstairs and to my own plate of food and start eating while leaning against the counter in the kitchen instead of the table. I will say so myself I didn’t do too bad on the food. I hear the back door open and I’m met with the sight of the blond guy walking in first, a smirk playing on his face when he saw me as well. “I heard you were makin us some food missus. Real kind of you.” He says as the dark haired guy follows right behind him this time wearing a gray flannel.
They both head to the table and sat down. “Why you standin over there eatin by yourself? You made all this nice food you could sit and enjoy it y’know.” The blond guy said. I sit there a bit hesitant to make my way over. Thins didn’t go unnoticed by the blond “come one, we don’t bite” smirk still on his face as he starts to dig in. I make my way over noticing the dark haired guy hasn’t spoken at all. ‘A man of not many words’ I think to myself as I sat down.
The dinning table wasn’t the biggest. It was rectangular shape, one chair one both of the shorter end and two chairs on the longer sides. The dark haired guy sat that the end of the table, while the blond sat next to him on the side leaving and empty seat next to him. I decide to walk over and sit on my own side. Making my positing to the other side of the dark haired guy and right across from the blond. As I sat down I noticed the brunette was a lot more slower at eating the food than the blond, it made me realize how kind of polar opposites they are. The blond being more optimistic and out going while he was more reserved. It drew me in, made me more curious on this guy. My thoughts are interrupted by the blond speaking once again. “So your Ms. Frances’s care taker yeah? We didn’t quite catch your name ma’am.”. “Yes I’m her new care taker for now, my names y/n. If you guys wouldn’t mind me also asking you guys names?” I answered and asked.
“Don’t mind at all, my names Brian and my friend here…” he says as he reaches over and lays his hand on the brunette’s shoulder “is Tim.” He finishes off by shaking his shoulder a bit then going back to eating his food. It was silent for a bit as everyone continued to eat. I decide this this a chance to at least try to get an answer to ease my mind. “I have another question if you guys don’t mind.” I break the silence and I’m guessing my tone showed through as the two men Tim and Brian pause and look up from their food to look at me. “Do you guys have any idea why Matthew left… his real reason for leaving?” I asked as everything starts rushing to my head again. The look behind their eyes changes, something more dark or even a bit of a look as if they’ve been caught. They make eye contact with each other through the corners of their eyes. This furthers my suspicion instead of easing it. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.” Tim says a cold and a bit of a warning tone in his voice as we made eye contact. There was a pause, as if time had froze. Then everything goes to normal as if nothing ever happened. I feel the tensions and decide to try and leave for a breather. “I’ll… go check up on Frances.” I stop as I left my plate behind and as I start to walk away I feel eyes on me.
Tim’s eyes follow me as I walk away from the table and up the stairs until I fully disappeared from his sight. Before I even made it to opening Frances’s door I hear their hushed voices from back downstairs. “Pretty ain’t she?” I hear Brian ask Tim in a playful tone with a but of a chuckle after, as Tim replied “A bit too curious already.” his tone more cold and unmoving. I decide to mind my business and walk him her room.
She sat there all done with her food. I take her plate and small table in and began to turn to take I downstairs when she mumble a very quiet “I wanna watch tv.”. I didn’t quite hear her the first time so I walk a little closer and put my ear in front of her mouth. “Tv” was all she said this time and I got the memo, “Of course I’ll come get you after putting up your dishes.” I say as I head back out. When I walked to the kitchen I noticed that Tim and Brian had stopped talking and it was obvious they didn’t want to discuss in front of me, noticing this I turn and walk away back to get Frances. I get her up and help her down the hallway down the stairs. “I got you!” I told her as I help her down the stairs slowly. As I’m doing so it seems that Tim and Brian are starting to finish up their food and have resumed to a normal conversation they don’t mind speaking on out loud.
I finally make it to the couch and carefully help Frances sit down. I turn to turn on the tv but I saw that the tv was an old make, it was also lower than most tvs. This made me realize ‘not everything is like in the city where every TV is a flat screen or mounted high on a wall’. I sigh bending over trying my best to figure this TV out, and as I’m going so I hear the back screen door open and close with no more conversation happening from the table meaning Tim and Brian have just left. I continue to struggle cursing myself because I felt kinda dumb not knowing to work and old model tv.
I bend over a little more to check the bottom of the tv and the cords then my behind hit something. I turned my head a bit to the side and my sight was met with a pair of jeans…my gaze follows up to meet Tim’s.
He stares down at me with his stern face, wearing no expression as he just stares. Embarrassed, realizing where my behind just hit and the position I was in. Bent over right in from of him while my… back area is against a… certain area… of his. I open my mouth to say something but nothing but a weak stutter falls out before I close my mouth again then open it to say something before Time begins to move. He starts leaning closer, my eyes widen ‘what is going on right now’ my mind freaking out, as he begins to lean closer. My mind occupied by the closeness I didn’t even realize what he was doing. Suddenly a blast of static noise blares from the tv interrupting my minds thoughts in the closeness between me and Tim.
He’s back standing up right as I also straight my body up tensely very quickly out of embarrassment. I turn around and blurt out “I’m..I’m sorry!! I just don’t really know how to work the tv. Sorry! I didn’t mean to…” I was interrupted when he spoke “I was just helpin you out sug no need to freak.” He says a bit annoyed at my frantic embarrassment. I calm down a bit seeing so but still being very embarrassed. “Uhm thank you” he looks at me up and down reaches into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette, hold it in his mouth and says “no problem.” as he diggs for his lighter I presume. He takes long and slow deliberate steps as he walks towards the back door as he’s lighting the cigarette. My gaze follows him until he’s fully out. I turn back facing forward and see Frances just sitting there watching, feeling even more embarrassed after realizing everything just played out right in front of her. I clear my throat and move from in from if the tv so she could watch.
It was now only 9:39am. It was gonna be a long day…. So skipping details of the day I did my chores and I did what I had to do and a bit extra. I made lunch with what little was left and decided to have dinner orderd to the house which was a bit of a process since it isn’t like how it was for the city. Until about 5pm, I took time to myself to relax on the couch with Frances. I didn’t get to rest for even a second until she said she wanted to sit outside on the porch and doing my job I do so without complaint. I sit her down outside and decide to head back closing the screen door behind me but leaving the door open just in case.
When I’m inside I’m met with Tim standing there. “There’s not really any food left you know.”. “Yes, I know. I’m having dinner ordered here.” I say. “Hmh…. Be ready early tomorrow. I’ll take you to the store to get some food.” He says. “Oh you don’t have to I could just drive myself plus I wouldn’t want to interrupt your work out there to help me out with stuff in here.” I say shaking my hands to indicate that I was just fine on my own, but he just stares as if unmoving and not budging with his suggestion. “I need to get some stuff for out in the farm anyways. Don’t be rude and not take what’s offered.” He says, he then turns and starts walking towards the back door. He turns back once more and says “Be ready early I mean it.” Before heading out.
Both Tim and Brian were gone before food got to the house so there wasn’t much to feed. Frances ate and after a few minutes after dinner I put her to bed. After that I cleaned up a bit before going to the kitchen and making a list of things to get tomorrow morning. I thought to myself that’s he never really said how early so I guess I’ll just have to figure it out. As I’m waking around the kitchen i feel a sense of strong paranoia…almost as if I was being actively watched. I try to ignore it and shake it off for a few minutes but I just couldn’t. It got even worse when I realized all sounds of nature, the country side had stopped. No crickets, no buzzing of flies, no animals, no leaves, no nothing. The sense of stillness was strong and so was the feeling of being watched. I became aware of the blinds of the small window in the kitchen being open… open for the outside to look in… I closed it, but closing the window made me aware of how open everything else was.
I then go around closing and licking the screen doors of the front and back door. Locking the actual door the closing all the windows. After doing so I felt a bit more secure my paranoia fading. I finally head upstairs to my bedroom, change into my pajamas and fall asleep.
——————————————
A/N: please ignore any spelling or grammar mistakes anything PLEASE. Wrote this so late at night all in one sitting. Please I need feed back on the story itself please please please 🙏. Anyways I still have that glitch where it deletes some of my paragraphs or sentences so if something seems missing please say so I can go back and fix. Anyways thank you. Bye bye
THE DOG AND THE BITCH | EYELESS JACK x WITCH! READER | SMUT
SYNOPSIS; He broke your spell jars. You shredded his log records. You and Jack were at war for as long as you were recruited in the mansion. You know no real reason why he targets you, but the mansion sure is sick of it. They’re gonna have to force you guys to get along– or else they risk forever dealing with war instigated by you and the humanoid medic.
forced proximity trope!
TW; foul language, knife, belt as form of bondage, biting, blood, rough sex, hate sex, lots of creampies, NO pregnancies, claws, implied squirting, lots and lots of cum, angry EJ, nasty EJ, mischievous reader, mischievous EJ, porn with little plot, short-lived angst somewhere in there
WORD COUNT; 6, 245 words
It had been… five months.
Not exactly. Five months, two weeks, and three days.
That’s how long you’ve been here, yet the mansion still has its own undiscovered oddities that you are most satisfyingly fond of.
But that doesn’t mean they’re fond of you.
You’ve figured that out the moment you found your spell jars spilled before the intentions were even completed.
The marks were obvious, of course. You weren’t stupid. In fact you were very intelligent, and you are convinced that Eyeless Jack Nyras is threatened by it.
Not exactly threatened, you knew him well enough. He isn’t that easy to tick off. Although that doesn’t exactly apply to you, you’ve learned.
But you were sure enough he didn’t like being overshadowed. And while he knows nobody does what he does— your ideation of what’s real and what’s not— that’s what bothers him.
You practice witchcraft. Although you don’t worship any deities (your big tall black-faced boss refuses to let you do so), your spells and abilities are proven to be very effective as it’s quite literally your very own weapon against your opponents.
Oh, you could do wonders. Paralyze them. Make them blind. Possess them like a puppet.
You weren’t born with it. Instead, you took the time to do, to learn the abilities you have now.
You worked hard. And it paid off by a fuck-ton.
Sure, people might believe you, might not even hear a word you say. But the second your incantations go into action– they believe, alright.
But some people— refuse to budge.
Jack. Jack. Jack.
His name is ringing in your head the whole time you’re wearily picking glass shards up with your bare, yet perfectly manicured, fingers.
Jack. Jack.
The rage starts to boil in little by little. It especially reached a high point when you took in the fact that your time, your money, your ingredients, your energy– are all gone.
Jack.
After you wipe the last of your carefully curated oils and herbs, you calmly made your way down to where you would always see him at 3 p.m. (Yes, you remember. It’s his down time.): the kitchen.
Your platform heels thumped against the wood floors before it finally clicked on the slightly sticky tiles of the kitchen.
Clad in his gray turtleneck and bootcut denim jeans (and black combat boots to match), was Jack Nyras.
There he is.
He’s sipping his usual espresso coffee and keeps his eyes (sockets) on the rim of his mug, but you know he knows you’re there.
“I hope you were at least satisfied.” you grit, still keeping your calm posture but hiding the bitterness in the cross of your arms.
Jack sets the mug down. He stares at it for a while, then—
“I was. Thank you for wishing such pleasantries over me.”
Your eyebrows furrow. He cannot be serious.
“Tell me, what ever did you gain by doing that?” you took two steps forward. “Was it so difficult to leave my room be?”
He flashes a toothy smirk. Asshole. “It stunk up the whole mansion. It reached my lab. That was the only sensible solution.”
“The disadvantages of your dog-nose is in, no way, my liability.” you hiss. “And if you want sensible, do something sensible for all of us and leave forever.”
His smirk drops. “You’ll all die if it weren’t for me.” His head was turned to you, now. “I have stitched up reckless cuts, wrapped up more broken bones, healed your bodies even when they were in critical condition. You should be kissing my boots and thanking me for letting you do so.” Jack was suddenly right in your face. You could smell the fabric conditioner off of him.
His warmth. You could feel it.
“I’ll thank you the day I’m on my deathbed, you slobbering son of a bitch.” you sneer at him before turning on your heels and stomping out of the kitchen.
Toby was about to make some cocoa, but steered clear when he saw you zooming out the kitchen door. Curious, he went in to see Jack.
“Wuh– what the hell was tuh-that all about?”
Jack empties his mug. “She’s acting nonsensical to logic. I just gave her a lesson on how it is.”
“Dude… yuh–you’re gonna die if you d-do that.”
Jack starts to wash the mug: “I’d like to see her try.”
Pacing, pacing, pacing. You’ve been pacing for fifteen minutes.
Dagger in hand, tapping the blade lightly on your palm repeatedly.
You’ve been thinking on how to take revenge on his prissy ass. You couldn’t let him slide. Jack broke your jars, jeopardized your work, and now he wants you to kiss his boot.
You should be kissing my boots. You should be kissing my boots. You should be kissing my boots.
“I wouldn’t even kiss his stupid dog-face if my life depended on it,” you mutter under your breath, the frustration from his STUPID comment still lingered in the darkest corners of your brain. Kiss his boots? Kiss his boots?
Kissing… Kissing… kissing…
Stop it.
“I’ll make him kiss my ass after I’m watching him die!” In a fit of rage, you threw your dagger toward the dart-board that was already there even before you moved in. Sighing, you drew closer to retrieve it.
Bulls-eye. You expected nothing less of yourself.
Smiling briefly, you yanked your dagger out to put it back inside its case. Scarlet, you named it. You’ve had her for longer than you know. You’ve taken such good care of Scarlet, that even God knows how many years later, she could still easily cut through paper in one, swift slice.
Wait.
Papers.
Papers, papers.
His papers.
Jack’s papers.
You were in his lab via breaking and entering before you knew it. You were in front of his desk, almost shaking with adrenaline with Scarlet still in your hand, handle a little moist with slight sweat.
On your right, was Jack’s daily log records. (You didn’t want to do the more-important records that included each of the residents’ biography– you’d figured the whole mansion would be very disadvantaged instead of just Jack. He’s your target. Not them.).
You read some of it: Injuries sustained by your other co-workers, medicine head shipped in and shipped out to the other mansions belonging to your boss’s brothers that he very carefully and meticulously jotted down, and all medicines, procedures, and treatments he has given to your dear co-workers arranged by date, time, and in, impressively, alphabetical order.
All the records date all the way back to three months.
And all the records… are all shredded.
Thanks to you, the rough, inked paper is as meticulously ripped apart as how it was meticulously created.
You took the time to admire your handiwork when another idea popped into your head.
To add insult to injury, you took the perfectly straight, thin strips of shredded paper—
and mixed them all together.
You escaped his lab as quietly as you came.
The consequences came faster than you would’ve expected.
It was about 9 p.m. now. You’d already had your dinner, classic instant noodles and a soda with fried egg. (Yeah, yeah, health and all— but you were tired.)
You were in the middle of your divination session, your tarot cards flipping themselves all on their own while you were sitting in the middle of your room, on the floor.
The last card was just about to reveal itself, when—
Knock knock knock.
Three loud knocks. But you wanted to finish your reading, so you—
Knock Knock Knock…
Anyway–
KnockKnockKnock—
“Jesus Christ–”
Swinging the door open, you were greeted by Tim, clad in his signature red plaid button-up shirt.
You open your mouth, but he interrupts.
“Downstairs. We need to have a meeting.”
His cold, monotone voice already told you what you need to know. You grinned a little, but stopped when he interrupted your thoughts by walking away. You follow him.
It was only about five steps until you were downstairs when you could already hear the arguing.
“I’m just sayin’ that maybe if you haven’t sabotaged her work— maybe you would’ve been safe.”
“What she does isn’t work. I know what real work is, Brian. I’ve plucked more bullets out of your flesh than she has done any of her ridiculous ‘miracles’ that actually worked.” Jack’s voice was eerily calm, but still had the tinge of frustration. Not much, but it’s there.
You could hear BEN butt in, “Well, she did save Jeff from that lunatic last pickup. All she did was say one word and boom! Lunatic dead!”
Jack hisses. “What he had was a stroke.”
“Yeah,” Kate countered, too. “A stroke she caused.”
He looks at her in disbelief. “You–”
“Everybody shut the fuck up.”
Tim’s voice boomed through the room. All heads turned to him. You could see Jack’s face souring at the sight of you, but nonetheless, he stayed composed.
Then, Tim points to the staircase you both just descended. “Get out. All of you except Jack and Brian.”
A collection of sighs and groans emanated from the small crowd, but all of them obliged and did what Tim said. They always do.
Tim turns to you, then cocks his head toward the couch. Sighing, you plot yourself down a little farther than Brian.
Silence. Then,
“We’ve been at this for way too fuckin’ long.” Tim groans when he lowers himself on the couch, too. You could smell Brian lighting a cig.
Brian takes his first puff. “The whole house is gettin’ sick of it, sug’. Why ain’t you just quit it, now?”
Jack cringes at the nickname.
You click your tongue. “Because he’s nothing but a good-for-nothing dog.”
Jack whips toward you, shoving his pointer finger in your face. “I am not a fucking dog,” he sneers. “You watch your dirty mouth.”
You smirk. “Oh? You think my mouth’s dirty? Come clean it up, then,” you’re grinning now. “Dog.”
He sucks his teeth. Then… licks his lips?
“See what the hell we’re talkin’ about?” Tim takes the cig from Brian, who was offering it to him, then puffing. “We gotta find some compromise,”
Jack scoffs. “The only way you are getting a compromise is to banish this– this— her out of this house forever—”
“We were thinkin’ something more that doesn’t require banishing,” Brian clears his throat.
“And somethin’ that won’t get any blood on the floor.” Tim follows.
“Yeah? I suggest putting him in a cage, then.” You snicker, but none of them laugh with you.
“We were thinking…” Brian starts.
Tim continues. “Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make you two spend a night together. A little bonding time, if you will.”
You can feel Jack’s repulse blend in with yours.
“Hell no,” you start up from the couch, but Tim pulls you back.
“No. We’re tired of dealing with you two.”
Brian speaks again, “We can’t risk any more of our vital residents being in the infirmary because you two decided to dance a little too hard.”
Jack chuckles darkly. “This won’t fix anything.”
“Not if we were supervisin’.” Tim adds. Supervising? How the hell are they gonna do that?
“We’ll be standing by the door all night.” Brian takes another drag.
Rolling your eyes, “How are we gonna be sure you’re gonna be awake the whole time?”
Tim answers. “We just took a night recon job yesterday. Me and Brian slept all day. We’re awake all night, now. Wouldn’t hurt to do so, either. It’s our off-day tomorrow.”
Fuck.
Fuuuck.
“So we won’t fight anymore. Fine! Deal done.” you start.
“No. Stop tryna fight this. You brought this upon yourselves and you’re gonna deal with it.”
“I–” Jack tries to speak, but Brian stands up and suddenly grips Jack’s arms and drags him to the spare bedroom.
You were next. Tim practically pulls and pushes you until you and Jack were basically stumbling backwards and on your asses on the floor.
Before you two know it, the door slams shut, and a door stopper is wedged into place.
You look at each other, then you get up and start banging on the door.
“Tim– I swear to fucking god– open the fucking door!”
Then, from behind the wood, “Goodnight, you two.”
“You fucking—”
“It won’t work, you know.”
You turn to Jack. His arms are crossed, his face tired and annoyed. Like he was watching some failed experiment he spent months on.
“Yeah? You got any other plans, then? Mr. Nyras?” Your voice was calm now. But Jack could taste the poison it’s laced with from where he was standing.
“They aren’t letting up anytime soon.”
“So? You’re saying we should give into their torture? Have a fucking backbone for once, you idiot–”
He grips your jaw, bringing it closer to him. “Talk to me nice. We’re gonna be spending all night here, after all.” He pauses. “Not to mention, in the same bed, too.”
You break free from his loosened grip and look behind his shoulder.
Your worst fears have come true.
One bed– one bed was situated in the back wall. The headboard was facing the left side, and one big window’s ledge was kissing the side of the bed, giving you a view of the big, bright, moonlight outside.
King-size. How fancy.
“Not unless I sleep on the floor,” refusing to give up your space, you found a thin, foam mat and rolled it out on the floor beside the bed. You were about to lay down until—
“Sleep with me.”
You whip your head toward him.
“What the fuck–”
“You heard me.”
“You pervert. You really are a dog.”
Jack sighs, as if being disappointed. “I meant, sleep beside me. If anyone here is a pervert, it’s you.”
You stood up now. “What the fuck did you just say about me?”
He grins. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
“Yeah. With disgust, that’s what.”
“Except that, disgust is not the only thing you’ve felt, no?”
“What the hell are you going on about–”
“I’ve felt things, too.”
Silence. Silence. Sile–
“Do you want to know about them?” Jack tilts his head, hands behind his back.
Like the fucker didn’t know what he was doing.
When there was only silence from you, he continued.
“I’ve felt your heartbeat go faster when I go up-close. I’ve felt your temperature rise when I hold your jaw. I’ve felt…”
He comes closer, hooking his finger into the belt-loop of your miniskirt. He pulls you.
“I’ve felt your pussy tighten when I whisper threats in your ear.”
Your chest collides with his when he tugs harder. Your breath hitches.
You feel his fingers trailing up from your hips to your waist to your—
Jack gropes your tits through your top, humming when his thumbs feel your tightening nipple.
You were in deep shit now. You don’t know what’s worse: him touching you like this, like he was your next goddamn meal—
Or that you weren’t stopping him.
“You say you hate me, and yet your cunt’s leaking at me doing this to you.”
He notices you avoiding his gaze, head turned sideways.
“Look at me.”
Silence.
“Fucking look at me when I’m talking to you.”
Hesitantly, you turn your head towards him. You’re flushed.
“Tell me you want this.”
Silence again.
“Tell me.”
With a grin, “I want this, Jack.”
He growls.
“I want this. I want your hands all over me. Your teeth into my skin. Your claws.”
You lean into his ears.
“I want your cock.”
With no warning, he pushes you backwards, leaving you flushed and breathless on your back.
He stares at you for a bit. He grins.
Pointing a finger toward the headboard, “Hands and knees. Hold on to that headboard.”
“You can’t tell me shit to do—”
“Now. You’ve been a fucking brat to me all week.”
Rolling your eyes but slyly smiling, you crawl all the way from the edge to the headboard, arching your back so you could give him a mean view of your ass. (Yes, he stared.)
He spent no time yanking your skirt down as soon as you held onto the headboard.
Your black thong was now in his view, one inch away from exposing your leaking cunt, which was seeping through the thin fabric.
Jack purred. But you weren’t patient.
“Are you just gonna stare, or—”
His tongues lick your cunt through the thong, hot and wet and sticky and so fucking good. You groan when he started sucking at your clit through the fabric, his lips squelching and making the filthiest of sounds reverberating in the room. YoYou should be kissing my boots. ur pussy is leaking all over– so much that your juice mixed with his spit was spilling from the corner of his mouth and on the bed.
He was licking, licking, licking. Making out with your pussy through the stubborn little piece of cloth you’d wish he’d taken off, too.
“Jack–Jack. Fuck. I’m gonna cum, baby.”
You can feel your world about to fall apart, hips rocking up and down on his face.
Faster. Faster. Faster—
You jolt when he pulls away, the sudden loss of contact greeting you at your highest point.
“What… what? –”
“You’re just as sweet as I’d imagined you to be.”
Sweet? Imagined?
He’s… he’s thought about you like this before?
“Please..”
“Mm. That’s it. Talk to me nicely, and I’ll give you what you want.”
You bit the inside of your cheek. Is he really gonna make you play this game?
“Please, Jack.” You arch your back a little more, swaying your lips left and right while your pussy was up mid-air: all for him to see.
“Please what, dove?”
You whine a little, “Please make me cum, Jack.”
You could do nothing but grin when you see his sweater into a small pile on the floor. And you could do nothing but grin even wider when you hear his belt clinking unbuckled, then thrown on the far edge of the bed.
“I’m gonna– fucking break this cunt,” He’s pumping himself. He starts circling the pad of his fingers on your clit, earning something between a gasp and a whine from you.
When he couldn’t just settle on watching you anymore, he hooks his claws under the string of your thongs, pulling hard and snapping your poor panties in half.
“You asshole, that was expensive–”
He plunges his long, sturdy fingers inside the seeping hole of your cunt before you could even finish. You moan, body trembling at the cost of his touch.
Jack worked you open, sucking in his teeth whenever he stretches you just right, watching your walls press firmly against his soaked fingers.
He plunges his fingers out. Another gasp from you. You watch from behind your shoulder.
You see him take his fingers up to his lips, sticking his tongues out, and watch them slide in between his middle and ring digits before his lips wrap completely around them, reaching just below his middle knuckles, popping right back off with a pop!.
“Sweet… so sweet and ready for me.”
He lines the tip of his cock at your hole, rubbing the tip up and down, his pre-cum coating your folds, mixing your wet and his creamy tip.
Jack pushes in, and you tremble. His tip alone was enough to have you shaking.
“Jack– ngh,”
“I know, I know honey. Just let me get this in.”
Midway. He’s in midway. You can feel it.
“Fuck! Jaaack–”
“I know, pretty girl, I know.”
More. A little more.
“Just a little more, honey, I know you can take it. Be good for me, yeah? Been so mean to me…”
You practically scream when he bottoms out.
Shuffles could be heard through the door.
“Not too loud, dove. I want those sounds for me and me alone.” He hooks a claw under the back of your top and—
Riiiiiip!
Your tits bounce out in the cold cold air. Your nipples slightly graze the pillows underneath you.
“No bra, dove?” He chuckles. “So you were waiting for this to happen.”
Of course. Of course he finds a way to irritate you.
“I wasn’t. And don’t call me ‘dove’. It’s fucking corny.”
“I think I’ll do whatever I want.”
“Like hell you will!”
You push yourself back onto his cock with one, big thrust. His frame falters a little, shuddering, before his hand flies to your hair and pulls hard.
“Behave.”
Your heel flings upward and kicks him squarely on the back of his thighs. He grunts in pain before reaching his arm around your throat and hugging tight, abruptly cutting off your airflow. You gasp, strained.
“I fucking hate you.” He growls pressed into your ear. “I fucking hate you–”
Jack pulls back and thrusts into you, hard.
“I hate your hair,”
Thrust.
“I hate your face,”
Thrust.
“I hate your voice,”
Thrust.
“I hate your scent,”
Thrust.
It was only a matter of time before Jack started to speed up, your moans sounding nothing more than strong gasps and little whines here and there. His other arm was wrapped around the front of your hips, pulling you back so his cock could dig deeper into you.
You would have been yelling at the top of your lungs if it weren’t for him choking you.
It didn’t take that long for you to feel the coming of your climax. Your thighs had lost the strength to hold yourself up, so you just gave in and let Jack carry the rest of you while you held on for the headboard.
Your orgasm was reaching, now. Eyes rolling back, you shivered against Jack’s body while you gave a strained moan, gasping in between pleasure-filled sobs.
Jack lunges himself into your neck, teeth baring, baring, baring—
biting.
He keeps you like that, and you let him. The pain almost just mixes in with the pleasure, and you couldn’t be in any more bliss.
“Fuck–fuck!” Jack came with a tremor in his veins, hot cum pushing inside the warmth of your walls.
God, you can feel him in your stomach.
Your cum made a creamy ring around his cock, mixing in with his own and messily spreading all the way to his hips.
There was silence.
“Get on your back. I wanna see you.” He commanded. With the little strength you had left, you let go of the headboard and dropped on your back.
The moonlight was the only source of light in the room, albeit a strong one. Jack could see all of you, now. The white light casted a ghost over your body, shining over your tits, your stomach, your face, your legs. Everything.
Jack thought you were beautiful this way.
He looks at the broken skin his razor-sharp teeth had made, almost proud, you think so. Then, he swoops in.
Jack licks your wounds rather deeply. The sting makes you hiss– then shudder. More blood beads up at the red slits of his mark, and he tastes it, too. With a kiss on his bite on your skin, he sits up once more.
He reaches down to grab something, but you gain visibility over it when he was fully on top of you.
His belt.
Without a word, he takes both of your wrists, brings them together, and fastens them with the thick leather strip and locking the buckle (despite your quiet protests).
He pins your wrists down above your head, trailing his claws from your neck, down to the side of your tit, to your ribs, all the way to your hips.
Goosebumps rise on your skin.
“So beautiful… yet such a foul mouth…”
You glare at him. “You hated me first.”
Jack smiles. “I was only stating true facts about you and your personality.”
“Shut up and fuck me,” you hiss. “Dog.”
“I told you to stop calling me that.”
He plunges his cock deep inside you again without warning, and your back arches up as if it was reaching the heavens, before he starts moving again.
Rough. Hard. All the pressure.
And you weren’t complaining.
In fact, you started smiling through the pleasure and the slight pain.
Jack looms over you. “You think this is funny?”
“It is,” you gasp through half-sobs. “You want me hngh– banished from the mansion and yet– ugh–you’re fucking me this hard– ack–”
“So? You were the one— fuck– you were the one checking me out–”
“Because you wouldn’t get out of my face!”
He sped up, and you were certain that every breath you took was forced out by him.
You were crying out loud now. Neither of you cared about how loud you were– not anymore.
“Look at me.” Jack commands, and you oblige.
You look deep into the voids of his “eyes”, with tears blurring up your vision, you kept your gaze steady on him.
His forehead was pressed into yours. Sweat mixing, bodies grinding on each other.
“Do it,” he whispered. “Tell me how much you hate me.”
Fuck, his hips were so heavy.
“I hate the way you walk,” you manage to chuckle a little. “Looks like— hrk—looks like you’ve got a stick up your ass all the time.”
“I don’t,”
“Then why do you do that? —”
“Because having so many people rely on me is a bitch of a workload.”
You continued.
“I hate how you talk like I’m not even there– you’re so— fuck! So passive aggressive al the time and I hate it,”
You can feel your body falling apart– for real this time.
“I hate– I hate how you make me feel so– mngghh— so stupid when I get one single thing wrong, it makes me feel I’m not doing anything right,”
Closer. Closer.
“I hate— oh fuck!! I hate when you make me feel so hot and high when you genuinely smile— I hate how you always look down at me when you’re talking– I hate– I hate–”
Everything blurs into one color when your body finally reaches its point to no return.
“I hate you Jack!” you cry it out as you came, wincing at his cum seeping into your pussy once again.
He keeps you in place— but his composure still very much falters, shuddering and slowly falling down against yours.
Everything seemed to mellow out and come into focus the more you two laid there, with him on top of you and you below him. He pulls out slowly, earning a wince from you, before you two gained consciousness once again.
“You’re a bitch.”
You giggle. “You’re a dog.”
He lets off of you and removes the belt, throwing it away in the dark of the room. You both are now laying side to side on the bed, shoulders touching, hair almost blended together.
Silence.
But you break it this time.
“Why do you hate me?”
You turn toward him, but Jack is still staring at the ceiling.
You continue. “Is it because of what I can do? What I am? Is it because I’m new?”
Jack swallows. But he isn’t nervous. Or angry. Or annoyed.
He’s thinking.
Then, “Every monster I knew starts by saying they were trying to help.”
You furrow your eyebrows. “You think I’m a monster?”
“Not yet,” Jack sighs. “But every person I knew with your kind of power managed to cross a line, somehow.”
“Jack, I never used my magic against you— not saying I haven’t wreaked well deserved revenge on you here and there, but I’ve never used magic on you. Or anyone else.”
He stays silent again. But then, “The people who–”
Jack pauses. Then starts again. “The people who took me. Forced me into their twisted celebrations. They were people I trusted once.”
He turns his head to you. “People who believed they were doing something important when they were hurting me with the same power you have.”
You speak. “But I’m not the people who did this to you.”
“You’re using the same kind of power.”
“No, they used power to take whatever humanity you had left. I use mine to protect the mansion. Do my job.”
Jack scoffs. “You think that makes a difference?”
You stand your ground. “It makes all the difference.”
Jack turns away, looking at the ceiling once again. He runs a hand through his brown locks, breathing deeply.
“You still have a choice. I don’t.”
“What the fuck do you mean?”
“You can still stop practicing your craft. You can stop relying on spells. You can stop being the thing that people fear. Me? I don’t have that choice. I don’t. I stay this way forever. I can’t even go out in public without covering myself in so many layers just to look half-normal. You can do that with no problem.”
“Are… are you jealous of me, Jack?”
“Not with who you are, at least. But with how different my life could’ve been.”
You stay quiet.
“Do you know what hurts me too, Jack?”
He doesn’t budge. But you know he’s listening.
“It hurts me that whenever you see me, you see them, too. The people who hurt you. They aren’t me. I’m not them. I don’t understand why you keep treating me how you should’ve treated them.”
Jack doesn’t answer.
“It’s like— it’s like you’ve already decided who I am without actually taking the time to know me. I’m me. Nobody else.”
He’s the quiet one now.
You prop yourself up on your side.
“Do you think I enjoy this?”
He turns to you. You continue.
“Every single one of my spells cost me. Every curse leaves something behind. Every time I get into someone’s mind, I wonder if I’m becoming someone even I myself couldn’t recognize.”
He doesn’t say anything.
“If you think you’re the only monster you think you are here, then you’re dead wrong. It’s not fair to me, Jack. I am sensible. You just never tried to know me the way you never did. You paint me like I’m one of them. Do you think I had a choice when I was forced into this– this ‘job’? Do you think I wanted to be bound to an eldritch faceless entity for the rest of my life? Do you think I want to live my whole life casting endless spells, incantations, sickness only to kill people? Do you ever once think about the fact that sometimes, I want to help them too?”
Jack’s shoulders drop down like he surrendered to a war he was fighting on for so long.
“I had no choice either, Jack. And I’m no less of a monster than you think you are. And I’m definitely not those bastards who took your whole life away from you before it even started– so stop fucking treating me like one.”
Silence. Silence. Silence.
You lay back down, naked and vulnerable, just like he is.
“I’m sorry.”
Your heart stopped for a bit. Was it really happening? Were the walls both of you put up finally going down?
You sigh.
“You should be, asshole.” A pause. You can hear him quietly wince at your response. “Do you know how many jars from Walmart I had to keep spending on because of you?”
A snicker from him. A giggle from you.
“I’ll get you new ones,” Jack started. “The ones I use in the lab are far sturdier and can hold vast amounts of ingredients.”
“They better have no human remains or some shit. You know well I don’t work with those. It’s gross.”
“Gross,” Jack smirks. “Gross, but you fucked someone who eats them. Who’s really gross?”
“Fuck you.”
You started on top of him, straddling his hips.
Your bare pussy was laying on the underside of his cock. Jack is pulling, prodding, and playing with your tits.
You’re getting wet again, and when you know your slick is coating his dick, you start rocking back and forth, sliding yourself up and down, up and down, up and down…
“Take what you want,” Jack rasps. “Take all you want. I’m yours now.”
You grin. “Aww, look at you, all so romantic.”
“Get to it–”
“Talk to me nice,” you sneer. “I’m in control now. You’re under me. I get to do what I want.”
“Fucking minx– shit!”
You didn’t even let him finish his sentence before you pull up and drop down harshly on his dick.
The warmth of his cock began to fill you again, from your thighs to your hips to your chest. So full. So good.
You didn’t hesitate to go hard on him. Jack destroyed you, now it’s time to destroy him.
The cum and slick that remained on both of you were making filthy sounds yet again. Your cunt was leaking and drooling all over him, and his pre-cum didn’t help either. You were riding him, riding him hard and fast and deep, you look down and—
Every time you lift yourself up, strings and connections of yours and his slick were connecting your skins together. Every time you drop down however, the slick pools between you two, creating a bigger pool of a mess although only slightly after each time on your hips.
You were sweating. He was, too.
The room stunk of you, Jack, and sex.
Sex, sex, sex. That was what’s happening, was it?
Not to you. And probably not to him, too.
No. This isn’t just sex. It’s who you are. Who he is. Who you both could’ve been if it weren't for all the fighting. What you could’ve been doing if it weren’t for all the hate.
“Riding me like a whore,” Jack grits.
“You’re the one who likes it.” You press a sloppy kiss on his neck. “I thought we were done with the pretending.”
He groans, claws digging into your ass and thighs, leaving long, whitening welts that were bound to stay on your skin for a day or two.
You grip on his hair, just enough for his head to press back into the mattress.
Then, a sudden snapping of his thighs up into yours made your eyes shoot wide. You whimper and you whimper loud, right into the abyss of darkness sitting on the ceiling.
Jack was fucking up into you, now. And you held yourself, letting him take the reins once more.
You two went at it as long as you could, listening to each other and yourselves losing to the pleasure and the high, the loud squelch squelch squelch of your hips slamming into each other, more and more of your spend and your juice and your arousal building up, up, up—
“Jaaaaack!” you mewl, hips snapping in all directions, body twitching and squirming over him but under his touch.
Jack groans loud and long. Hips snapping up into yours, he comes once again, warmth invading your body.
You were full all over. Full with him, with satisfaction.
Silence once more.
Then he lets you fall into him like a collapsing tower.
Immediately, he reaches for the blanket (which was kicked to the side somewhere during your little escapade), and covers you both.
You and Jack stayed like that. In each other’s arms. Naked, vulnerable, but safe and secure.
“I hate you, Jack.”
“I hate you, too.”
10:32 AM
That was the time your phone greeted you with, before sitting up in a panic.
Your movement stirred him awake.
Him? Him. Jack.
He groans. “What’s with you now?”
“We’re late for breakfast,” you shot up on your feet, snagging your skirt up your thighs as fast as you could. (You would’ve started with your panties first, but someone coldly ripped them apart.)
Jack checks his wristwatch. The same panic blows over him and he starts dressing himself up, too.
You both staggered into the dining room. Everybody’s eyes snapping on you two.
BEN gets the hint first and grins at you.
Kate hums first, then nods. You knew she knew, too.
Jeff, still groggy, does a double take, then flashes a thumbs up at Jack. (Jack sighs.)
Toby, giddiest of them all, and probably received the news first, flashed two thumbs up instead of one.
Tim and Brian? Nowhere to be found. You’d figure they’d gone to get their well-deserved sleep.
Dinner was, albeit, a little awkward. But Jack was right there beside you. Saying nothing, but letting both of your appearances tell the whole story.
Breakfast was done. Dishes are washed.
Jack had done what he promised and brought you new, unused spell jars which you admitted really were high quality.
Silence again. But not unsettling, not this time. Comfortable, nice, peaceful silence. That’s what it was.
Jars were clinking in both of your hands, stopping when your bedroom door was in front of both of you.
You were about to say a heartfelt thank you, but when you opened your mouth:
“The lab is in its downtime between 3 p.m. through 5 p.m.” he started.
You smile. “I know. That’s how I shredded your papers.”
Jack sighs when he was reminded of the work he had to redo.
“Come by. I need company.”
You raise an eyebrow. “Need company?”
“Your company. I would like someone to talk to while I redo all the work you so graciously destroyed.”
“Okay.”
…
“Okay.”
…
“Round four in my room after?”
“You’re insatiable.”
“You don’t hate it. You don’t hate me anymore. So what’s the problem?”
CW: Explicit sexual content, rough sex, semi-public sex, hatchet play, overstimulation, degradation, praise, squirting, minor blood play, danger, fear play, bj, sexting, violence, blood, physical fight, insults, toxic relationship, jealousy, drug use, smoking, harrassment, emotional whiplash, insecurities, petty crime, strong language, obsessive behavior, emotional distress, emotional manipulation, moral ambiguity, featuring appearances by Tim, Brian, Ben, Jeff, and Jack
Summary: Your relationship with Toby is equal parts sweet, filthy, and completely messy. One thing leads to another, and what was supposed to be a simple night out turns into drama, tension, and a whole lot of chaos.
Wordcount: 24k
Part 1: HERE
Part 2: HERE
Part 3: HERE
The clock on your nightstand read just past 3:30 AM. You should have been asleep hours ago, but sleep refused to come. You were sprawled across your bed in nothing but an oversized t-shirt and panties, staring at the picture Toby had sent you five days ago. The screen glowed in the dim lamplight of your bedroom, illuminating his busted face in harsh detail: swollen eye, split lip, blood smeared across his chin, and those thick white bandages wrapped around his left shoulder and chest. He looked like absolute hell.
Yet somehow he was still stupidly, painfully cute.
You’d texted each other nonstop since that night. Random good-morning messages that turned into hour-long conversations, voice notes where his stammer made your chest feel warm, even one late-night phone call where he’d explained everything in that rough, tired voice. How Tim had shoved him first. How the fight had snowballed. How he’d buried a hatchet in Tim’s thigh and Brian had shot him in the shoulder.
And then the second bomb.
“I d-don’t… feel pain,” he’d admitted quietly over the phone, like he was scared you’d hang up. “Like, at all. It’s always been like that.”
You’d been worried sick ever since. The image of him bleeding out on the floor haunted you. The fact that he couldn’t even feel the damage somehow made it worse.
He was on house arrest now. Brian wasn’t letting either him or Tim leave the property until they were “healed and done being idiots,” as Toby had put it. Punishment and recovery all in one. You hated it. You hated that you couldn’t see him, touch him, make sure he was really okay with your own eyes.
With a heavy sigh, you rolled onto your back, clutching the phone to your chest. Tomorrow was finally Saturday. No night shift at the gas station. You were genuinely excited - Andy had been hyping up his DJ gig for days, and you’d already planned to stay out late, dancing and blowing off steam. But right now, all you could think about was Toby.
You missed him so much it ached.
You typed out a message before you could overthink it.
you:
still stuck at home?
i miss your stupid face
send me another pic so i know you’re not dead
You hit send and stared at the screen, chewing your lip. The little typing bubble popped up almost immediately.
boyfriend 🪓:
yeah
brian is being a dick
tim still cant walk right lol
miss you more
A second later another message came through. A new photo.
Toby had clearly taken it in his room. He was shirtless, sitting up in his bed with his back against the wall. Fresh bandages on his shoulder, a nasty bruise blooming across his ribs, messy brown hair sticking up everywhere. But he was grinning that crooked, scarred grin straight at the camera, middle finger raised lazily. His neck was mid-tic, slightly blurred from the movement.
Underneath it:
boyfriend 🪓:
this better?
still alive
kinda bored tho
wish you were here sitting on my face instead :))
Heat flooded your cheeks. You laughed under your breath, thighs pressing together instinctively.
you:
you’re such a whore
i’m coming over
You typed it and immediately deleted it. Then typed it again. Deleted it again.
Brian and the others were terrifying. Showing up at their house unannounced after everything that happened sounded like a fantastic way to get yourself killed. But the longer you stared at that photo - at his tired eyes and that hopeful little grin - the less you cared.
you:
what if i snuck over?
just for a little while
i need to see you
you can send me the address
The typing bubble appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
boyfriend 🪓:
no
you CANT come here
its far as fuck
brian is up my ass rn
not a good idea
sorry
ill come to you soon
You stared at the messages, eyebrows furrowed. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard. It was… weird. Why was he being so secretive about where he lived?
You didn’t want to push him - especially not after everything he’d already been through - but it felt suspicious as hell. What exactly was he hiding? More blood? Something worse?
You sighed and typed back, trying to keep it light.
you:
okay okay, relax
i won’t come
just… try to sneak out soon? or at least stop by the store
i miss you fr
boyfriend 🪓:
yeah
promise
miss you more than you know :(
You chewed your lip for a second, then smirked. If he was going to be all mysterious and cagey, you could play dirty too.
You sat up on your bed, heart beating a little faster with mischief. You tugged your oversized t-shirt up over your tits, letting them spill free, then hooked your thumb into the waistband of your panties and pulled them down just enough. The angle was perfect - tits on full display, panties barely covering anything, your face cropped out except for your smirking mouth.
You snapped the photo, checked it once, and hit send before you could chicken out.
you:
[image attached]
this is waiting for you 🖤
The typing bubble appeared instantly. Then disappeared. Then appeared again. It felt like forever.
boyfriend 🪓:
holy fuck
your tryin to kill me
im so hard it hurts :’(
fuck i need you so bad
please send anothr one
You burst out laughing, falling back against your pillows with a giddy little squeal. Your face felt hot, thighs squeezing together as you reread his desperate replies. Even through the screen you could practically hear the stammer and the frantic tics in his voice.
you:
good boy
maybe i’ll let you bury your face between my legs again
boyfriend 🪓:
fuuuuck
yes ma’am
gonna be such a good puppy for you
You were still smiling, thighs squeezed together, when another message came through.
boyfriend 🪓:
actually… i think i can sneak out tomorrow
brian has a job at like 1:30 pm
he’ll be gone for a while
i can slip out around 2
meet me at the edge of the woods? not right by your house tho
go a little further down the treeline, past the old broken fence and the big fallen pine tree
there’s a small clearing with a bunch of rocks, kinda hidden
you’ll see it when you get close
just for a little while okay? i cant stay long
Your heart flipped with excitement. You sat up straighter, grinning at your phone.
you:
yes
2 pm sounds perfect
i’ll be there
just… be careful sneaking out, okay?
boyfriend 🪓:
i will
cant wait to see you
gonna be lookin at that picture all night :)
You set your phone down on the nightstand, a warm, fluttery feeling settling in your chest. Tomorrow was going to be a good day. You’d get to see Toby in the afternoon, then head to Andy’s DJ gig in the evening and actually have some fun. The thought made it easier to finally turn off the lamp.
You pulled the covers up over yourself, plunging the room into darkness, and closed your eyes. Sleep still took its time coming, but at least now you had something wonderful to look forward to.
Toby’s cracked phone screen was still lit up with your photo - tits out, panties pulled down just enough to tease him with that glistening little wet spot between your thighs. His breath was already ragged.
“F-fuck…” he hissed under his breath.
He shoved his sweatpants and boxers down his thighs in one frantic motion, freeing his cock. It was already rock-hard, flushed dark and leaking at the tip from just that one picture.
He wrapped his hand around himself and started stroking fast - almost rough - eyes glued to your body on the screen. His hips jerked up into his fist with every stroke, the wet sound of skin on skin filling his messy room. His neck cracked sharply to the side, shoulders hitching violently as he imagined burying his face between those thighs again, tongue deep inside you while you called him your good puppy.
“Shit–y-your tits… so f-fucking perfect–” he muttered, voice hoarse and broken. His hand moved faster, thumb swiping over the sensitive head on every upstroke, spreading the pre-cum leaking out of him.
It didn’t take long. He was too worked up, too desperate after days of being stuck in this house. His whole body twitched hard as he came with a choked groan, thick ropes of cum spilling over his fist and onto his stomach. He kept stroking himself through it, milking every last drop while staring at your photo.
When the last shudder finally left him, Toby let his head fall back against the pillow with a heavy sigh. He wiped his hand on his already ruined shirt, then kicked his pants the rest of the way off and just… lay there. Shirt pushed up to his chest, cum cooling on his skin, phone still loosely gripped in his other hand.
For a while he just chilled, scrolling back through your old messages, rereading the filthy ones with a stupid little grin tugging at his scarred mouth. His shoulder still felt numb under the bandages, and his ribs were bruised to hell, but none of it really mattered when he had you texting him shit like that.
Eventually his eyes grew heavy. He set the phone on his chest, still open to your picture, and let his mind wander. He thought about meeting you tomorrow afternoon in that hidden clearing. How he’d pull you behind the rocks, shove your shorts down, and have his way with you. He imagined the way you’d moan his name, fingers twisted in his messy hair while he ate you out until your legs shook. Then he’d bend you over, fuck you deep and desperate against a tree, biting your neck and whispering how you owned him while he filled you up.
The fantasies played on loop - soft and filthy and obsessive - until his breathing evened out and he finally drifted off, phone still glowing faintly against his chest.
The next morning dragged.
Toby woke up early, nerves and excitement already buzzing under his skin. He spent the first few hours pacing his room like a caged animal, shoulder twitching every few seconds, neck cracking sharply as he checked the time on his cracked phone over and over. He changed his hoodie twice. Brushed his teeth. Tried (and failed) to fix his messy brown hair. Every minute felt like an hour.
He kept replaying your messages in his head, especially that picture. The thought of seeing you in person again - touching you, smelling your skin, hearing you call him puppy - made his stomach flip with giddy anticipation.
Around 1:15 PM he finally heard movement downstairs. Brian’s low voice drifted up from the living room, talking to someone - probably Jack or Tim - in that clipped, no-nonsense tone he used when he was heading out on a job. Toby’s head jerked hard to the side as he froze by his bedroom door, listening.
Heavy boots on the stairs a few minutes later. Brian’s footsteps stopped right outside his room.
The door creaked open.
Brian stood there in his usual dark clothes, mask pushed up on top of his head, looking tired but alert. His eyes flicked over Toby - taking in the fresh hoodie, the restless twitching, the way he was clearly trying and failing to look casual.
“Heading out for a job,” Brian said flatly. “Should be back tomorrow afternoon. You’re staying here. No leaving the property. And I expect you to keep your shit together with Tim. No more fights. We clear?”
Toby rolled his eyes hard, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His neck twitched sharply to the left again.
“Y-yeah, whatever,” he muttered, voice low and annoyed. “Not gonna start shit.”
Brian narrowed his eyes, clearly not convinced. He stepped a little further into the room, voice dropping into that stern, older-brother tone that always grated on Toby’s nerves.
“I mean it, Toby. Stay put. Heal up. Don’t make me come looking for you when I get back. You’ve already caused enough problems this week.”
Toby’s shoulders hitched violently. He gave a short, sarcastic nod, refusing to meet Brian’s gaze directly.
“I h-heard you the f-first time. Jesus.”
Brian stared at him for a long second, jaw tight, like he wanted to say more but decided against it. Finally he exhaled through his nose and turned toward the door.
“Stay out of trouble,” he repeated one last time before heading downstairs.
Toby waited until he heard the front door slam shut and the truck rumble to life outside. The second the sound faded down the road, a wild, giddy grin split across his scarred face. His neck cracked sharply again as he practically bounced on his heels.
“Fuck yes,” he whispered to himself, already grabbing his hatchets and clipping them to his belt. His hands were shaking with excitement, tics coming faster now that he was finally free.
He slipped out of his room, heart pounding with giddy anticipation. The old wooden floorboards creaked faintly under his boots as he made his way down the hallway. Just as he reached the top of the stairs, he heard muffled laughter drifting from Ben’s room - high-pitched, chaotic giggles mixed with Jeff’s raspy drawl. Sounded like the two of them were fucking around with something on Ben’s computer again. Good. That meant they were distracted.
He moved carefully down the stairs, keeping his steps light and uneven gait as quiet as possible. The house felt almost too still now that Brian was gone. He expected the living room to be empty.
He wasn’t that lucky.
The second he reached the bottom step, his neck twitched sharply to the side and his eyes landed on Tim.
The bigger man was sprawled across the couch like he owned it, leg propped up on a stack of old pillows, thick bandages visible under the fabric of his basketball shorts. Empty beer cans littered the coffee table and the floor around him. He was already on his fourth or fifth one of the day, judging by the pile. The TV droned in the background, some mindless action movie playing on low volume.
Tim’s head turned the instant Toby appeared. His eyes narrowed, mouth twisting into a disgusted scoff.
“Well, look at that,” Tim muttered, voice thick with beer and irritation. “Of course you're sneaking out the second Brian’s tires hit the road. Real fuckin’ classy, Toby.”
Toby froze for half a second, shoulders hitching hard. Then he rolled his eyes and kept walking toward the front door, jaw tight.
“I’m n-not the c-cripple here,” he shot back, voice low and edged with annoyance. “And nobody c-can fucking stop me from going out.”
Tim’s face darkened. He shifted on the couch, wincing slightly as his injured leg moved. “You little shit. Brian said stay put. You really that fuckin’ stupid?”
Toby’s neck cracked violently to the left again. He stopped near the door, turning just enough to glare back at Tim. “I’ll b-be back soon. It’s n-not a big deal. No need to be a f-fucking snitch… unless you w-want to lose the other leg.”
The threat hung in the air, heavy and ugly. Tim stared at him for a long beat, eyes burning with pure annoyance and something colder underneath. For a second it looked like he might actually reach for his phone. Then he shook his head, letting out a bitter laugh.
“Whatever.” Tim jerked his chin toward the kitchen. “Go grab me another pack from the fridge. I’m a cripple now, remember?”
Toby’s shoulders hitched again. He stood there for a moment, jaw working, clearly debating telling Tim to fuck off. But the guilt - small, annoying, and unwanted - twisted in his chest. Tim looked pathetic like this: leg fucked up because of him, surrounded by empty cans, stuck on the couch while everyone else moved on.
With a heavy sigh, Toby turned and stalked into the kitchen. He yanked open the fridge, grabbed a fresh cold six-pack, and brought it back. He dropped it unceremoniously onto the coffee table next to the mountain of empties.
“Here,” Toby muttered. “I’ll b-be back soon.”
Tim didn’t even look at him. He just hummed, low and annoyed, eyes glued to the TV as he cracked open a new can with a sharp hiss.
Toby lingered for half a second longer. A flicker of something like regret passed through him - this was still Tim, the guy who’d dragged him through more shit than he could count - but he pushed it down. He didn’t say anything else.
He turned and slipped out the front door, letting it click shut quietly behind him. The second the warm afternoon air hit his face, the giddy excitement came rushing back full force. He adjusted the hatchets on his belt and disappeared into the treeline, heading toward the hidden clearing to wait for you.
You stood in front of your bedroom mirror, turning side to side with a satisfied little smile. After hours of anticipation, you’d finally finished getting ready. Your hair fell in loose, shiny waves down your back, soft and bouncy after you’d taken the time to style it. A fresh layer of glossy lip gloss made your lips look shiny and inviting, catching the afternoon light every time you moved. You’d chosen a cute low-cut tank top that hugged your chest nicely and showed off just enough cleavage, paired with your favorite denim shorts that sat low on your hips, the frayed edges brushing your thighs.
You adjusted the hem of your top one last time, tugging it down slightly before smoothing your hands over your hips. A giddy little giggle escaped you as you checked yourself from another angle.
“God, I look good,” you muttered to your reflection, biting your glossy lip. The butterflies in your stomach were going wild. After days of nothing but texts and some blurry photos of his injured face, you were finally going to see Toby again. Touch him. Feel him.
The thought made heat flush across your skin.
You grabbed your phone, slid it into your back pocket, then slipped on your sneakers. One last look in the mirror - you blew yourself a playful kiss - before heading out the front door.
The afternoon sun was warm and bright, a perfect Saturday contrast to the late-night texting session that had led to this. Your heart raced with excitement as you locked the door and started walking toward the treeline. You followed the path Toby had described: staying along the edge of the woods rather than cutting straight through them.
Even though you’d lived near these woods your whole life, you’d only ever stayed on the very edge. You’d heard too many stories - people disappearing without a trace, hunters finding bodies months later, strange lights and screams in the night. The woods had a reputation. A bad one. So you kept to the clearer, sunlit path that ran parallel to the treeline, the tall pines casting long shadows across the grass.
As you walked, the warm breeze tugged at your hair and made the hem of your shorts brush against your thighs. You couldn’t stop smiling. In just a few minutes you’d see him - your twitchy, needy puppy with his crooked grin and those intense dark eyes.
A sudden rustle in the underbrush made you pause.
You turned your head just in time to see a graceful deer step out from between the trees, only about twenty feet away. It froze the moment it spotted you, large dark eyes locking onto yours. The deer was beautiful - sleek brown coat dappled with sunlight, ears twitching nervously.
You stopped walking and smiled softly, keeping your voice gentle.
“Hey… you’re really pretty,” you murmured.
The deer didn’t bolt. It just stood there, staring at you with an almost unnerving stillness. Its ears flicked once, twice, but it didn’t move. For a long moment the two of you simply watched each other.
You let out a quiet laugh. “The woods are full of you guys, huh? Must be hunters everywhere this time of year.”
The deer tilted its head slightly, still staring. Something about its gaze felt… off. Too calm. Too focused. But you shook the weird feeling away. It was just a deer. These woods were crawling with them.
You hummed a little tune under your breath, offering the animal one last smile before continuing down the path. The deer watched you go for a few more seconds, then disappeared back into the trees with a soft rustle of leaves.
You kept walking, the hidden clearing with the rocks and fallen pine tree coming into view up ahead. Your pulse quickened with every step. Toby was probably already waiting for you.
The thought made you pick up your pace, excitement bubbling over into a bright, hopeful smile.
You kept walking along the treeline until the big fallen pine tree came into view, exactly where Toby had described. And there he was.
Toby leaned casually against the thick, weathered trunk, one boot propped up behind him as he idly toyed with a small branch in his hands, snapping off little twigs. He wore dark jeans and a loose navy hoodie, the hood pushed back so his messy brown hair stuck up in every direction. His face was fully exposed - no bandana today - and the twin hatchets hung heavy from his belt, handles bumping lightly against his thighs with every small movement.
The second you stepped into the small clearing, his head snapped up. His dark eyes lit up with pure, unrestrained joy, that crooked, scarred grin splitting across his face instantly.
You didn’t hesitate. Your feet carried you forward faster, almost running the last few steps. Toby straightened up and opened his arms wide, and you practically crashed into him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. He caught you just as eagerly, strong scarred hands splaying across your lower back as he pulled you flush against his chest.
“F-fuck… hi,” he breathed into your hair, voice rough with emotion. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breathing you in deeply like he’d been starving for it. His body swayed gently with you, restless energy humming under his skin as his shoulders hitched once, twice. You could feel the rapid crack of his neck as a tic jerked through him.
You clung to him for a long moment, eyes stinging with relief. He smelled like pine, faint smoke, and that familiar metallic edge that always clung to him. God, you’d missed this.
When you finally leaned back just enough to look at him, you couldn’t stop smiling. “I missed you so much,” you whispered, one hand coming up to gently cup his bruised jaw. Your thumb brushed carefully over the fading yellow-green marks on his cheek, then traced the thick scar that ran along his face with feather-light touches. “So, so much.”
Toby’s eyes fluttered half-closed at the gentle contact. You leaned in and kissed him - soft at first, then deeper as his mouth opened against yours. Your fingers slid into his messy brown hair, threading through the strands and tugging lightly. He groaned quietly into the kiss, one hand sliding down to grip your hip possessively.
Eventually you pulled back, breathing a little faster. You gave his chest a gentle push and took a small step away, eyes roaming over him.
“Alright… let’s see the damage,” you said, voice softening with worry. “I’ve been worried sick about you, Toby.”
He let out a low, sheepish chuckle, his neck cracking sharply to the side again. “It’s n-not that b-bad,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “I t-told you… I don’t feel pain. Like, at all.”
Still, he reached down and carefully shrugged off his hoodie, letting it drop onto the fallen log beside him. Your breath caught.
It was brutal.
Thick white bandages wrapped tightly around his left shoulder and upper chest, already showing faint pink stains in places. Dark bruises bloomed across his ribs and torso in ugly shades of purple, blue, and yellow. The bullet wound on his shoulder looked especially bad even covered - swollen and angry beneath the gauze. He stood there shirtless in the afternoon light, scarred and battered, but still watching you with that shy, hopeful little grin.
You gasped softly, stepping closer again. “Toby… this is so bad,” you whispered, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers over the edge of the bandages on his ribs. His skin was warm under your touch.
He shrugged one shoulder, cheeks flushing faintly under the scars. “It w-was worth it,” he said quietly, dark eyes locked on yours. “Nobody’s allowed to d-disrespect you like that. Not even them.”
You looked up into his eyes, a weak, conflicted smile tugging at your lips. The fierce protectiveness in his voice made something warm bloom in your chest even as worry gnawed at you. You leaned in and pressed a soft kiss right over the bandages on his shoulder, then another on his bruised ribs, holding him gently as you did.
“Thank you,” you murmured against his skin.
Toby’s breath hitched. His hand came up to stroke through your hair, fingers gentle despite the calluses and scars. “You’re s-so beautiful,” he said, voice low and sincere, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I c-couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
You hummed happily, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your cheek to his uninjured side, breathing him in. For a moment everything felt perfect - just the two of you in the quiet clearing, sun filtering through the trees.
Then your gaze drifted downward.
The twin hatchets still hung at his hips, handles catching the light with that dull, wicked gleam. A small shiver ran through you. No matter how many times you saw them, you didn’t know if you’d ever fully get used to it.
You pulled back slightly, fingers absently tracing the hem of his jeans near one of the handles. “Why’d you bring them?” you asked softly.
Toby glanced down at the weapons, then shrugged, that crooked grin returning. “H-habit,” he said simply, like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Never really go anywhere without them.”
You reached down and lightly touched one of the hatchets at his hip, your fingers tracing the smooth wooden handle. The metal was cool and heavy under your touch. You hummed softly, still a little fascinated and unsettled by them, before looking back up at Toby. He watched you with dark, hungry eyes.
You rose onto your toes and kissed him again - slow and deep, your tongue sliding against his as your hands cupped his scarred face. When you pulled back, your voice was soft and sweet.
“You’ve been such a good boy for me, Toby,” you murmured, thumb stroking his cheek. “Going through all of that… getting hurt so badly just because someone disrespected me. I just want to take care of you now.”
Toby’s breath hitched. His neck cracked sharply to the side, and he nodded eagerly, eyes glassy with need. “I’d d-do anything for you,” he rasped, voice thick. “Anything.”
You smirked, a wicked little thrill running through you at how quickly he melted under praise.
“Good,” you purred. “Then let me make you feel really good, puppy.”
You sank slowly to your knees in front of him on the soft forest floor, the fallen pine needles cushioning you. Toby groaned loudly at the sight, his cock visibly twitching in his jeans as he stared down at you.
“F-fuck…” he breathed.
You reached up first and carefully unclipped both hatchets from his belt, handling them with cautious curiosity. They were heavier than they looked. You ran your fingers along the flat of one blade for a moment, humming softly to yourself, before setting them both safely aside on the ground near the log, well out of the way.
Then your hands returned to him.
You popped the button of his jeans slowly and dragged the zipper down, peeling the fabric open. His hard cock strained against the front of his boxers, a small wet spot already forming where he was leaking. You leaned in and pressed a soft, open-mouthed kiss right over the bulge, feeling the heat of him through the thin fabric.
Toby’s hips jerked forward instinctively.
You giggled, resting your cheek against his clothed cock and looking up at him through your lashes. “How much did you miss me, baby?”
His hand came down to rest gently on the top of your head, fingers threading carefully into your hair. He was breathing hard already, chest rising and falling rapidly. “So f-fucking much,” he groaned, voice wrecked. “Thought about you every day… every night…”
He leaned back heavily against the fallen pine tree for support, one hand braced on the rough bark beside him. His hips twitched again, trying to press closer to your mouth.
You giggled softly. “So impatient,” you teased, rubbing your cheek against the hard length of him through the boxers before dragging your lips along the outline. You mouthed at him lazily, pressing wet kisses up and down his clothed shaft while your hand cupped and gently squeezed his balls through the fabric.
Toby let out a broken whimper, fingers tightening in your hair. His neck cracked sharply again, shoulders hitching as another tic rolled through him.
Finally, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pulled them down just enough to free his cock. It sprang out, thick and flushed dark, curving slightly upward with a bead of pre-cum already dripping from the tip. You wrapped your hand around the base, giving him one slow, firm stroke as you looked up at him.
“Such a pretty cock,” you whispered, leaning in to drag your tongue slowly from the base all the way up to the head. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive tip, tasting the salty pre-cum, before sucking just the head into your warm mouth.
Toby moaned loudly, head falling back against the tree. “Oh f-fuck– yes–”
You took your time, savoring him. You bobbed your head slowly, taking more of him into your mouth inch by inch, your tongue pressing flat along the underside of his shaft. The wet, obscene sounds of your mouth filled the quiet clearing. You hollowed your cheeks on the way up, sucking hard, before sliding back down until he bumped against the back of your throat.
You kept one hand wrapped around the base, stroking in time with your mouth, while the other rested on his thigh, feeling the muscles tremble under your touch. Every few strokes you pulled off to tease him more - licking long stripes up the vein on the underside, kissing and sucking gently on his balls, then licking back up to swirl around the head again.
Toby was losing it above you. His hand stayed in your hair, hips jerking in shallow, desperate little thrusts, but you kept control, pulling back whenever he got too eager.
“P-please–” he whimpered, voice cracking. “Feels so good… your mouth– f-fuuuck–”
You hummed around him, the vibration making his cock twitch hard on your tongue. You took him deeper again, relaxing your throat and swallowing around the head until your nose brushed the messy hair at his base. You held there for a few seconds, eyes watering slightly, before pulling back with a gasp, strings of spit connecting your lips to his glistening cock.
You stroked him firmly with your hand while you caught your breath, thumb rubbing over the slick head. “You’re doing so good for me,” you praised softly, kissing the tip. “Such a good puppy, letting me play with you.”
You dove back in, sucking him with renewed enthusiasm - faster now, but still careful not to let him tip over the edge. Every time his breathing grew too ragged and his thighs started to shake, you slowed down or pulled off completely, licking lazily along his length until he was whining and twitching.
His thighs trembled, hips jerking forward in short, desperate thrusts as he chased the heat of your mouth. His hand tightened gently in your hair, holding on for dear life. Broken whimpers and choked moans spilled from his lips between every sharp crack of his neck and violent hitch of his shoulders.
“P-please– fuck, please– I’m so close– I’m gonna– l-let me cum, please–” he begged, voice wrecked and cracking. His cock throbbed hard against your tongue, leaking steadily.
You pulled off him with a wet pop at the last possible second, strings of spit connecting your swollen lips to his glistening cock. You looked up at him with a wicked little smirk, stroking him slowly with one hand.
“Aww, c’mon,” you mocked softly, voice sweet and teasing. “You’re really gonna cum already? Before you even get to fuck me? After I’ve been waiting days for you?”
Toby groaned loudly, head falling back against the tree with a thud. His neck cracked sharply to the side again. “N-no– fuck, I’m s-sorry– I just– you feel too good–”
You kept stroking him lazily, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the side of his throbbing shaft. “Don’t I deserve to get fucked too, Toby? You’ve been holding out on me for days… and now you’re just gonna bust in my mouth like a desperate little loser?”
His face went bright red under the scars, eyes glassy and desperate. “I’m s-sorry– I’m really fucking sorry– I’ll hold it, I-I won’t cum y-yet, I swear– please–”
You giggled softly and kissed the leaking tip again, tasting him. The power rush felt intoxicating.
Then, without fully thinking it through, something darker and thrilling took over. You reached over and picked up one of the hatchets from the ground, pulling it smoothly from its holder. The weight felt heavy and dangerous in your hand.
Toby’s eyes widened, a loud groan ripping out of him as he watched you stand up slowly, still holding his weapon. Something visibly snapped behind his eyes. It was almost worryingly hot, the way his scarred face twisted with raw, unfiltered hunger. Like the sight of you wielding the tool he’d killed with unlocked something feral and dangerous inside him.
You giggled, standing in front of him with the hatchet in your grip. “If you don’t get your shit together and stop being so impatient,” you purred, voice low and teasing, “I might have to punish you.”
“F-fuuuck…” Toby moaned, one hand immediately dropping to wrap around his cock, stroking himself slowly at the sight of you. His dark eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing almost all the color. “You look so fucking hot like that… holding my hatchet… shit–”
You stepped closer, pressing the flat of the blade lightly against his bare chest, right over his racing heart. Toby shivered hard, another violent tic jerking his shoulders. You traced the cool metal slowly upward, watching his breath hitch with every inch. Then you carefully brought the blade to rest against the side of his throat - not pressing hard enough to cut, just enough for him to feel the danger.
His pulse hammered visibly against the steel.
“Be a good boy,” you whispered, “and help me with these shorts.”
Toby’s hands moved instantly, almost frantically. He kept his head perfectly still, eyes locked on yours as his fingers worked the button and zipper of your denim shorts. The blade stayed right against his throat while he tugged your shorts and panties down your legs in one shaky motion. You stepped out of them, kicking them aside, now completely bare from the waist down. Cool air hit your soaked pussy and you shivered.
Toby stared at you with pure, desperate hunger. “C-can I please fuck you now?” he begged hoarsely, voice barely above a whisper. “I need you so bad–”
You hummed, pretending to think about it while still holding the hatchet to his throat. “Hmm… I don’t know. I’m actually really enjoying my new friend here,” you said, glancing down at the weapon with a playful smirk.
Toby groaned deep in his chest. “Yeah? It m-makes you wet? Holding my hatchet like that?”
You bit your lip and nodded, slowly pulling the blade away from his throat. With careful movements, you turned the hatchet and brought the smooth, thick wooden handle between your thighs. The blade faced safely downward and away from both of you. You rubbed the rounded end slowly against your slick folds, letting out a soft, breathy moan as it brushed your clit.
Toby’s hand sped up on his cock as he watched, completely transfixed. His breathing was ragged, eyes dark with lust and awe.
You moaned softly as the smooth, rounded wooden handle glided against your soaked folds, rubbing shamelessly over your clit in slow, teasing circles. The contrast of the cool, hard wood against your hot, slick skin made your thighs tremble.
Toby’s breathing was ragged. He forced himself to stop stroking his cock, his hand moving instead to wrap around the handle of the hatchet right below yours. His fingers overlapped with your own, steadying it.
“Keep g-going,” he rasped, voice wrecked. “Don’t stop… fuck, this is so hot.”
He looked completely hypnotized - dark eyes wide and unblinking, locked on the sight of you grinding against the handle of his weapon. His neck cracked sharply to the side, but he barely seemed to notice. “This hatchet… it k-kills people,” he whispered hoarsely, pushing the handle a little more firmly against you. “And now you’re fucking it… my good girl using my muh-murder weapon like a toy…”
The filthy words hit you hard. Shame and raw arousal flooded through you in equal measure, making your face burn bright red. A fresh gush of wetness coated the handle as you rocked your hips harder against it.
Toby groaned at the sight. He carefully pushed the rounded end upward until it nudged right against your entrance. You gasped sharply, spreading your legs further apart on instinct, bracing your hands on the fallen tree for balance.
“It feels so good,” you whimpered, voice breathy. “Toby–”
The thick, rounded wood stretched you just enough to make your eyes flutter. It wasn’t as big as his cock, but the danger of it -the sheer wrongness - made everything feel more intense. Toby watched with dark fascination as the handle grew slick and shiny with your arousal.
He let you ride it for a few more moments, gently guiding the angle, before he slowly pulled it away. You whined at the loss, but the sound died in your throat when he brought the soaked handle to his mouth and licked it clean with long, obscene strokes of his tongue - tasting every drop of you while staring straight into your eyes.
The sight was so filthy it nearly made you cum on the spot. Your pussy clenched hard around nothing.
Still holding the hatchet in one hand, Toby guided you with the other, gripping your hip and turning you around. He pressed you forward until your hips rested against the rough bark of the fallen pine tree, your upper body leaning over it.
“Lean f-forward for me,” he murmured, voice thick with need.
You obeyed, arching your back and spreading your legs wider. The position left you completely exposed to him - ass up, back arched, pussy dripping and ready. Toby groaned at the view, his free hand squeezing your hip hard enough to bruise.
He lined himself up and pushed inside you in one slow, deep thrust.
“F-fuuuck–” he moaned as your tight, wet heat swallowed every thick inch of his cock. The stretch was perfect, overwhelming. He bottomed out with a sharp snap of his hips, his pelvis flush against your ass.
Then he started fucking you.
The pace was deep and relentless from the start. Toby gripped your hip with one hand while the other still held the hatchet - the flat of the blade resting against the curve of your lower back, a constant cold reminder of exactly who he was. Every powerful thrust rocked you forward against the tree, your tits pressing into the rough bark through your thin tank top.
The wet slap of skin on skin echoed through the quiet clearing. His thick cock dragged against every sensitive spot inside you, hitting deep with every stroke. He was fucking you like he’d been starving for it, hard and desperate.
“God, you’re so t-tight,” he panted, voice breaking with every thrust. His hips snapped forward harder, the angle letting him drive even deeper. “Missed this pussy so ffff-fucking much– been thinking about it every night–”
Your moans grew louder, shameless. Every brutal thrust pushed a broken sound out of you. The hatchet stayed pressed against your back, the danger only heightening everything. Toby’s tics made his rhythm stutter and jerk at random - one particularly hard crack of his neck made him slam into you even deeper, ripping a cry from your throat.
He leaned over you, chest against your back, messy hair brushing your shoulder as he fucked you harder. The hand holding the hatchet slid around to rest the flat of the blade against your throat, just holding it there as a dark, thrilling reminder while he railed you from behind.
“You feel that?” he growled against your ear, voice rough and stammering as he fucked you harder. “My h-hatchet on your throat while I’m buried in your pussy… so fucking easy for me to kill you right now. One little slip and–fuck–you’d be b-bleeding out while I finish inside you.”
The dark, possessive words sent a violent shiver through you, your walls clenching hard around his cock. Toby groaned at the feeling, hips snapping faster, the danger making everything more intense. The angle was devastating - every thrust dragged perfectly against that spot inside you that made your vision blur.
Your nails scratched down his forearm, a desperate attempt to remind him who had been in charge just minutes ago. You wanted to say something sharp and dominant, to mock him for how quickly he’d flipped the script.
But the cold, heavy press of the hatchet blade against your throat made the words die in your mouth.
Toby was everywhere - his chest plastered to your back, hips slamming against your ass with every brutal thrust, one strong hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks, and that damn hatchet resting right against the vulnerable skin of your throat. The danger of it, the raw reminder of exactly who he was and what those blades had done, only made you want him more.
He was showing you who was really in control.
And fuck… it made you even wetter.
Toby chuckled darkly against the side of your neck, the sound low and rough, vibrating through you as another sharp tic jerked his head.
“You can b-borrow my hatchet to play with,” he rasped, lips brushing your ear, voice thick with lust. “But I decide how this g-goes.”
His hips snapped forward particularly hard on the last word, driving his thick cock so deep you saw stars. You moaned brokenly, your attempt at teasing completely shattered. Your pussy clenched hard around him, dripping down your thighs.
Toby groaned at the feeling. Without warning, he pulled out completely, leaving you empty and aching. The sudden loss made you whine - but then his fingers found your clit, rubbing fast and firm, while the hatchet stayed pressed to your throat.
“C’mon,” he growled. “Let it out.”
Your whole body seized as you gushed around nothing, clear fluid spraying down your trembling thighs and soaking his shoes and the forest floor beneath you. The release was messy and intense, leaving you shaking and gasping against the rough bark of the fallen tree.
Toby didn’t give you time to recover.
He shoved his cock back inside you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your spasming, soaking heat. The new wetness made the slide even filthier. He started fucking you even harder - deep, punishing strokes that rocked your entire body forward against the tree with every snap of his hips.
The wet, obscene slap of skin on skin filled the clearing again, louder now that you were drenched. His cock dragged perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you on every thrust, the angle devastating.
“Am I f-fucking you good?” he panted against your neck, voice wrecked and desperate even as he dominated you. “Am I being a g-good boy for you?”
“Yes– yes, fuck– such a good boy,” you moaned loudly, the words tumbling out between broken gasps. “Baby– Toby– you’re fucking me so good, don’t stop–”
Toby groaned deep in his chest, the praise hitting him hard. His rhythm grew faster, more erratic, hips slamming into your ass with wet, filthy sounds. The hatchet pressed harder against your throat, enough for you to feel the sharp edge and the steady thrum of your own pulse against the steel. His other hand gripped your hip in a bruising hold, keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you as he railed you from behind.
You were getting close, fast. The combination of his thick cock stretching you open, the dangerous press of the hatchet, and the raw possessiveness in every thrust pushed you right to the edge.
Toby could feel it. He fucked you harder, grinding deep on every stroke, the hatchet steady against your throat.
“Yeah,” he growled, voice hoarse. “Cum for me– cum on my d-dick–”
The pressure, the danger, the overwhelming pleasure - it all crashed over you at once.
You came hard with a loud, broken cry, your pussy clamping down around his cock, gushing around him as waves of intense pleasure ripped through your body. Your legs shook violently, thighs slick and trembling as you rode it out, moaning his name over and over.
He kept fucking you through it. His hips snapped forward in short, desperate thrusts, chasing his own release while you trembled and moaned beneath him. The hatchet stayed pressed firmly against your throat, the cold steel a constant, thrilling reminder as he used you.
“F-fuuuck– you’re squeezing me so tight,” he groaned brokenly against your neck, voice wrecked with pleasure. His hips stuttered hard, tics making his rhythm jerk unpredictably as he drove himself as deep as he could go.
With a loud, shattered moan that cracked into a whimper, Toby finally came.
He buried himself to the hilt, thick ropes of cum flooding deep inside you as his whole body shuddered violently. In the throes of it, his grip on the hatchet tightened involuntarily. The sharp edge bit into the soft skin of your throat - just a shallow nick, enough to sting and draw a thin line of blood.
He didn’t even seem to notice in the moment, too lost in the pulsing heat of your pussy and the overwhelming pleasure. He stayed buried deep, hips giving lazy final thrusts as he emptied himself completely, scarred face buried in your neck. Only then did his grip finally loosen. The hatchet slipped from his fingers and dropped heavily onto the forest floor with a dull thunk.
You were both panting, bodies slick with sweat despite the afternoon breeze. You ran a shaky hand through your messy hair, trying to catch your breath as you slowly straightened up. Turning around, you leaned back against the fallen pine tree for support, legs still trembling as you watched him.
Toby looked beautifully ruined.
His cheeks were flushed under the scars, messy brown hair sticking to his forehead, chest heaving as he tried to steady his breathing. He gave you that sheepish crooked grin as he started pulling his clothes back on. But when you bent down to grab your discarded panties, tilting your head slightly, his eyes caught on your throat.
His entire body went rigid.
“Shit–wait,” he breathed, stepping closer. His fingers gently tilted your chin up, dark eyes widening in horror at the thin cut and the tiny trickle of blood. “Oh fuck… I did that? I–I didn’t mean to, I swear–fuck, I’m so sorry–”
He looked genuinely worried, neck cracking sharply as another tic hit him. He cupped your face, leaning in to press soft, frantic kisses along the shallow cut, tasting the faint copper on his lips.
“I’m s-so fucking sorry, baby–I got too into it, I didn’t realize–shit, does it hurt? I c-could’ve really hurt you, I–”
You caught his face in your hands, pulling him into a slow, reassuring kiss before he could spiral further. When you pulled back you were smiling, a little breathless, cheeks warm.
“Toby… it’s fine,” you murmured, voice soft and surprisingly fond. “It’s just a tiny cut. Honestly?” You bit your lip, a shy, heated little flush creeping up your neck. “It was kind of hot.”
He stared at you for a second, eyes wide, before letting out a shaky, relieved laugh and pressing another gentle kiss right over the mark.
“You’re insane,” he whispered, forehead resting against yours. The guilt was still there, thick in his voice, but he was relaxing under your touch, shoulders slowly dropping. “Fucking insane… and I l-love that about you.”
You laughed at his sincerity and gave him one last kiss before bending down and picking up your discarded panties, using the soft fabric to carefully wipe between your legs. Toby’s cum was already starting to leak down your thighs, and you cleaned up as best you could before tossing the ruined panties aside. You went commando, shimmying back into your denim shorts and buttoning them with slightly shaky fingers. The fabric felt strange against your bare, sensitive pussy, still slick and full of him.
Toby watched the entire process with dark, hungry eyes, like he was memorizing every second of it. Only when you were done did he finally pull his boxers and jeans back up, tucking himself away and fastening them. He shrugged his hoodie back on more slowly.
For a moment the two of you just stood there in the quiet clearing, breathing each other in, the hatchets lying forgotten on the ground beside you.
You leaned back against the fallen pine tree, sitting on the thick trunk with your legs dangling slightly. A soft, satisfied smile played on your lips as you looked at Toby. The afternoon sunlight filtered through the leaves above, catching on his messy hair and the faint sheen of sweat still on his skin. For a moment everything felt warm and perfect.
Toby pulled his hoodie the rest of the way on and stepped closer, standing between your knees. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering gently on your cheek.
“You w-working tonight?” he asked quietly, voice still a little rough from earlier.
You shook your head, grinning. “Nope. It’s my day off, finally. No gas station hell for once.”
His crooked smile started to return, but you clapped your hands together excitedly before he could say anything else.
“Actually… I’ve been invited to a party tonight,” you said brightly. “Well, more like a club gig. You know my coworker Andy? He’s DJing tonight and he’s been hyping it up for days. I told him I’d come support him. It should be fun, you should come with me!”
The change in Toby’s expression was instant.
His face fell. The happy, post-sex glow vanished like someone had flipped a switch. His dark eyes dulled, shoulders hitching sharply as a violent tic jerked his neck to the side with a loud crack. The crooked grin disappeared completely, replaced by a look of pure disappointment.
“…A party?” he asked slowly, voice flat.
You nodded, still smiling, though it was starting to feel a little strained. “Yeah, like… a club with music and stuff. Nothing crazy. It’ll be fun.”
Toby stared at you like you’d suggested something completely insane. His jaw tightened, another tic rolling through his shoulders.
“You… you s-see what I look like, rrrr-right?” he muttered, motioning to his face with one hand - specifically tracing the thick, jagged scar that ran across his cheek and mouth. “I can’t go to parties. I look like a fucking freak.”
Your stomach twisted painfully. You’d never heard him talk about himself that way - at least not so bitterly. He looked genuinely upset, eyes dark and restless, neck twitching again as he glanced away.
“Toby…” you said softly, brows furrowing. You reached out and gently touched his arm. “You shouldn’t use that word. You’re not a freak.”
He stayed quiet, jaw clenched. You tried to keep your voice positive, hopeful, desperate to ease the sudden tension thickening the air between you.
“But if you feel more comfortable, you could always wear your bandana,” you suggested with a small smile. “It looks good on you.”
Toby scoffed. The sound was sharp and bitter. He stepped back slightly, shaking his head as another harsh tic jerked his neck to the left.
“It d-doesn’t work like t-that,” he muttered, voice low and edged with frustration. “I just… I don’t do s-stuff like that. Parties. Clubs. Normal s-shit with normal puh-people. That’s not me.”
The disappointment in his voice was heavy. He looked smaller somehow, shoulders hunched, fingers twitching restlessly at his sides. The easy, affectionate mood from just minutes ago had evaporated completely, replaced by something raw and insecure that made your chest ache.
You sat there on the log, suddenly a little nervous. You’d never seen him shut down this quickly. The shift was jarring - from the intense, dominant way he’d just fucked you with a hatchet to his throat, to this vulnerable, almost wounded version of him pulling away at the mere mention of going out together.
You cleared your throat, trying to keep your voice steady and gentle even as the mood between you had soured so quickly.
“It would really mean a lot to me if you came,” you said softly, offering him a small, hopeful smile. “I want you there with me. It’ll be fun.”
Toby took a sharp step back, his shoulders hitching violently. A bitter scoff escaped him, his scarred face twisting with clear hurt and frustration.
“Why the ffff-fuck does it even muh-matter?” he muttered, voice low and edged with something ugly. “You already have Andy.”
He practically spat the name, like it tasted rotten in his mouth. His neck cracked hard to the side and his hands clenched into fists at his sides, the tics coming faster now.
You blinked, raising your hands in disbelief. “What the hell, Toby? Are you… jealous?”
He stared at you for a long second, dark eyes burning with insecurity and resentment. Another violent tic jerked his shoulder upward.
“Yeah, maybe I am,” he shot back, voice cracking. “You’re with him a-all the fucking time. Laughing with him, working l-late shifts a-alone together… and now you’re gonna go puh-party with him? Probably get d-drunk and cheat or s-some shit. I know how g-girls work.”
The accusation came out of nowhere. You sat there on the fallen log, staring at him in stunned silence for a moment. After everything you’d just done - the raw, intense sex, the way you’d praised him, kissed his bandages, told him how much you missed him - he was still spiraling like this? The insecurity felt so sudden and deep it left you reeling.
You couldn’t believe it.
“Toby…” you started, voice tight with frustration and hurt. “You’re being ridiculous. Andy is just a coworker. A friend. That’s it. We were literally just fucking each other ten minutes ago. I invited you to come with me tonight because you’re the one I want to hang out with. I showed up here for you. I’ve been texting you nonstop, worrying about you, letting you… do all of that with the hatchet. And you think I’m just gonna cheat on you at some club gig?”
The warm, affectionate glow from earlier had completely vanished, replaced by this heavy, uncomfortable tension hanging between you in the quiet clearing.
Toby shook his head, eyes darting away from yours as he stared off into the trees. His shoulders hitched violently, neck cracking sharply to the side with a loud crack. The silence stretched for a painful beat before he finally spoke, voice low and bitter.
“I’m not going,” he muttered. “And I d-don’t want you going either.”
You stood up from the fallen log, heart pounding with a mix of frustration and disbelief. You stepped right into his space, close enough that you had to tilt your head up to look him in the eyes.
“If you don’t want to go, that’s fine, Toby,” you said firmly, voice rising. “But you don’t get to control me like that. You don’t get to tell me where I can and can’t go.”
He finally met your gaze. Another harsh tic jerked his head to the left.
“I didn’t t-think you’d be like t-this,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I thought you were… different.”
The words stung. You felt your chest tighten.
“It’s just a party, Toby! Please come with me. I want you there. I want to dance with you, have fun with you–”
“No.”
The refusal was flat. Final.
You threw your hands up. “Well then I’m going by myself. You’re not gonna decide where I go or who I hang out with.”
Toby’s expression darkened. He stared at you in a way that actually scared you for a second. His shoulders twitched hard, fingers flexing at his sides.
“You’re not going to that party,” he said, voice dangerously low.
Your stomach twisted. You crossed your arms, trying to hold your ground.
“If you w-want to prove you’re actually l-loyal to me,” he continued, stepping closer, “then you’re not going either.”
That was it. You’d had enough.
You let out a bitter, incredulous laugh. “You’re being such an insecure idiot right now.”
You turned on your heel, ready to storm off, but Toby’s hand shot out and grabbed your arm, yanking you back toward him with surprising strength.
“And you’re being a ffff-fucking bitch,” he snapped, the words flying out before he could stop them. His grip tightened. “I know I’m not e-enough for you. You’re just like a-all the o-other girls–”
The slap landed hard across his scarred cheek before you even realized you’d done it. The sound cracked through the clearing like a whip. Toby’s head snapped to the side from the force, but he barely flinched. No pain. Still, the intention hit him.
You stared him down, breathing hard, your palm stinging.
For a split second, regret flashed across his face. His dark eyes widened, the anger draining away almost instantly as he realized what he’d said. His grip on your arm loosened immediately.
“Shit– I didn’t mean that,” he stammered, voice cracking. “I didn’t muh-mean to call you a b-bitch, I swear– it just s-slipped out, I’m sorry–”
You ripped your arm free, glaring at him with tears of frustration burning in your eyes. Without another word, you turned and started walking away, back toward the path along the treeline.
“You can come find me when you’re done acting like a fucking immature child!” you yelled over your shoulder, voice shaking with anger.
Your heart hammered in your chest as you stormed off, the warm afterglow of your earlier intimacy completely shattered. Behind you, Toby stood frozen by the fallen tree, watching you leave.
You spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening at home, sulking.
The house felt too quiet. You paced around your bedroom, flopped dramatically onto your bed, then got up again to stare out the window toward the woods. Every few minutes you’d replay the fight in your head, the warmth from the clearing long gone, replaced by a heavy knot in your stomach.
The sex had been amazing. For a while everything had felt perfect. Toby had been needy and dominant and sweet all at once, and you’d felt so close to him. Then, the second you mentioned the party, it was like a switch flipped. He’d shown you a whole different side of himself: insecure, possessive, almost cruel in the way he lashed out.
It scared you a little.
No one was perfect, obviously. Everyone had baggage and insecurities. But this felt so sudden and extreme. One minute he was moaning your name with a hatchet to your throat, the next he was accusing you of planning to cheat like it was inevitable. You weren’t some naive girl - you knew dating someone like Toby came with complications - but this level of jealousy after such a short time? It left a sour taste in your mouth.
Your phone buzzed on the nightstand. You already knew who it was before you looked.
Andy:
yo here’s the addy 📍
club’s called The Pit
starts around 11 but i go on at 11:30
u better show up i got u on the list
You sighed heavily, staring at the messages. The club was in the next town over - about a 1.5-hour walk, so you’d have to take the bus. You thought about canceling. Staying home. Not upsetting Toby. It probably wouldn’t even be that fun without him anyway.
But the longer you sat there stewing, the more something inside you snapped.
He hadn’t even texted you. Not a single apology. Not a “you okay?” or “I’m sorry.” Nothing. He’d accused you of being a cheater, called you a bitch, and then just… let you walk away.
You weren’t going to let anyone control you like that. Not even him.
“Fuck this,” you muttered under your breath.
You stood up, determination settling over you like armor. Andy had been hyping this gig for days. He was your friend, and he was counting on you to show up. You weren’t going to ditch him just because Toby threw a jealous tantrum.
You were going.
You marched over to your closet and started pulling out outfit options, jaw set. The sulking was over. Tonight you were going to get dressed up, go to The Pit, support your friend, and have a good time - whether Toby liked it or not.
Toby stormed back through the treeline, hatchets clipped back to his belt and banging against his thighs with every angry step. The giddy high from fucking you over that fallen pine tree had already curdled into something ugly and bitter in his chest. He slammed the front door behind him so hard the whole frame rattled, the sound echoing through the old house like a gunshot.
He couldn’t fucking believe it. He’d been so stupidly excited to see you - counting down the minutes, sneaking out like an idiot, imagining you’d be happy just being with him in the woods. And then you hit him with a party. A club. With Andy. Like it was nothing.
His neck cracked sharply to the side as he stalked down the hallway, shoulders hitching hard. Parties weren’t for him. He knew what he looked like. What he was. And now you wanted to go prance around in some loud, crowded shithole with that smug gas station asshole who probably flirted with you every shift. The thought made his blood boil.
He entered the living room. Tim was still sprawled exactly where Toby had left him - leg propped up on pillows, surrounded by a growing graveyard of empty beer cans. Only now Jack was there too, perched on a rickety chair he’d dragged over, black voids focused on the nasty wound on Tim’s thigh. His medical kit sat open on the coffee table, gauze and antiseptic scattered around. They did this every day now. That’s how bad Toby had fucked Tim’s leg up.
The wound looked grotesque - red, swollen, still seeping in places despite Jack’s careful bandaging. Toby stared anyway. A sick little flicker of guilt twisted in his chest before he shoved it down.
Jack didn’t even glance up as Toby entered, his face impassive, hands steady as he worked. Tim, on the other hand, was clearly wasted. His head lolled slightly as he squinted at Toby, words slurring together.
“Well shit… look who’s back already. Couldn’t even stay out longer than an hour, huh, Tobes?”
Toby muttered something incoherent under his breath - half curse, half tic - and kicked one of the empty beer cans hard. It clattered across the floor and bounced off the wall with a metallic clang.
Tim’s face twisted in annoyance. “Hey, the fuck is wrong with you, little shit? You got a problem?”
Jack finally looked up then, black sockets tilting in Toby’s direction. His voice was calm, almost clinical, hands still carefully wrapping fresh gauze around Tim’s thigh. “Do you want me to check your shoulder and ribs? Wounds need monitoring.”
Toby’s shoulders hitched hard. “N-no,” he snapped, already turning toward the stairs. “I’m f-fine.”
He was halfway to the staircase when Tim let out a sharp whistle, the sound cutting through the room like a whip.
“Not so fast, Toby.”
Toby stopped, neck cracking violently to the left. He didn’t turn around right away, fingers flexing at his sides.
Tim shifted on the couch with a pained grunt, beer sloshing in the can he still held. “What the hell crawled up your ass? You were practically skipping out of here earlier like a lovesick puppy. Now you’re slamming doors and kicking shit like someone pissed in your cereal. Spill it.”
The silence stretched. Toby’s jaw worked, teeth grinding. The spiral in his head kept feeding him images - your angry face, you slapping him, you storming away. His chest felt tight, hot anger mixing with that ugly, gnawing insecurity he hated more than anything.
He considered just bolting upstairs and slamming his door, burying the whole mess. But he could feel their eyes on him - Tim’s drunk, expectant stare and Jack’s empty black voids. The silence pressed in like a weight.
With a heavy, annoyed sigh, he turned around.
“Fine. I had a f-fucking argument with my girl, okay?” he muttered, voice thick with frustration. “It’s stupid. She wants to go to some p-p-party tonight.”
Tim let out a low, drunken chuckle, head lolling back against the couch. “Told ya,” he slurred, smirking. “Warned you about that one, Tobes. Girls like her don’t stick around in our kind of life. They get bored. Start looking for fun elsewhere–”
“Sit still,” Jack interrupted politely, voice calm and even. His gloved fingers pressed a little too firmly into the edge of the wound as he adjusted the gauze. Tim winced sharply, hissing through his teeth.
“Fuck–easy, asshole!”
Toby looked annoyed but said nothing. He leaned against the back of the couch, arms crossed tight over his chest, watching Jack’s steady hands work.
Then, unexpectedly, Jack spoke again, his tone formal and detached like he was stating a simple medical fact.
“Normal people engage in normal social activities. Parties, clubs, gatherings with peers–these are common behaviors for civilians. When you choose to pursue a relationship with one, you should anticipate such friction. It is a predictable outcome.”
The words landed like a quiet slap. Toby’s shoulders hitched violently, another sharp crack echoing from his neck. He stared at the floor, jaw tight.
“Well, I–I’m against it,” he muttered, almost pathetically. “She’s p-probably gonna cheat anyway. Why e-else would she go a-a-after I told her not to?”
Jack paused for a fraction of a second, his face tilting slightly. The black voids stared blankly, as close to confused as Jack ever got.
“Cheating is defined as the violation of an agreed-upon romantic or sexual exclusivity within a relationship,” he said formally, almost clinically. “I fail to see the direct causal connection between attending a social event and infidelity. Correlation does not imply causation.”
Tim barked out a rough laugh, nearly spilling his beer. “Nah, I’m with Toby on this one. Fuck that. I’d never let my girl go to some sleazy club full of drunk assholes grinding on each other. No way.”
Jack didn’t even look up from his work. “You do not have a girl,” he pointed out politely, voice still perfectly neutral as he continued wrapping the fresh bandage.
Tim shut up instantly, glaring daggers at the side of Jack’s masked head. “Fuck you, man.”
Toby just sighed, long and tired, rubbing the back of his neck as another tic jerked his shoulder. Jack’s detached logic made a frustrating kind of sense - normal people did normal shit, and you were normal. But it didn’t kill the bitter, ugly knot twisting in his chest.
He was still pissed. Still hurt. And the longer he stood there, the more that anger festered.
Toby opened his mouth, neck cracking sharply as he scrambled for something to say - anything to push back against Jack’s detached logic without sounding as pathetic as he already felt. “Yeah, well, it’s not that s-simple, she–”
Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs, cutting him off. Jeff appeared a second later, long black hair messy and half-tied back, his face wearing that familiar lazy smirk. The sleeves of his hoodie were pushed up to show old scars and veins along his forearms. He paused at the edge of the living room, one hand resting on the handrail as he took in the scene: Tim sprawled on the couch, Jack bent over the wound, Toby leaning against the back of it like he’d rather be anywhere else.
“Well, well,” Jeff drawled, voice low and mocking in that raspy way of his. “Look at the lovebirds. You two finally kiss and make up?”
“Fuck no,” Tim and Toby said at the exact same time.
They glanced sideways at each other, both wearing matching expressions of irritation. Tim’s was drunk and surly; Toby’s was twitchy and defensive. Jeff barked out a short, raspy laugh, clearly entertained by the synchronicity.
“Damn, that was kinda cute.” He shoved off the handrail and wandered further into the room, boots scuffing against the worn floorboards. “Where the fuck is Brian? I need the truck tonight.”
Tim took a slow sip from his beer, wincing as Jack adjusted something on his thigh. “Too late. He left a couple hours ago for a job. Won’t be back till tomorrow.”
“Fuck,” Jeff muttered, dragging the word out. He circled lazily around the couch, hands in his pockets, peering down at Tim’s leg with mild interest. Jeff watched Jack work for a beat, then reached into his pocket and pulled out his knife with a casual flick. The blade glinted as he leaned over and sliced cleanly through the excess bandage material Jack was holding.
“At your service, doc,” Jeff said with a mocking little half-bow.
Jack hummed quietly in acknowledgment, not even glancing up as he secured the fresh wrap. “Helpful.”
Toby huffed under his breath, arms still crossed tight. His mind kept drifting back to you, he barely registered the rest of the room.
Jack finished smoothing the bandage down, then reached into his kit and shook out a couple of pain pills into his gloved palm. He held them out to Tim. “Here you go. Wait until the alcohol has mostly worn off. I’ve told you this before–mixing them is not advisable.”
Tim waved a dismissive hand, nearly knocking the pills out of Jack’s grip. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll be fine.”
Jeff perked up at the sight of the pills, leaning in with a crooked grin. “Hey, hook me up too while you’re at it. My head’s been killing me.”
Jack’s face tilted slightly in Jeff’s direction. “No.”
Jeff groaned theatrically, slumping back against the wall. “Boooooring. You’re no fun, Jack.”
Jack began packing up his supplies with methodical precision - gauze, antiseptic, scissors all disappearing neatly into the kit. Tim shifted on the couch, testing the new wrap with a grunt. Jeff straightened up, stretching his arms overhead until his back popped.
“Guess we’re walking then,” Jeff said. “I’m dragging Ben out tonight. Dude needs to leave the house before he fuses with his computer chair.”
Tim snorted. “Brian wouldn’t have let you borrow the truck anyway.”
Jeff rolled his eyes hard. “Yeah, sure, cripple. Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He pushed off the wall and headed back toward the stairs, calling up loudly as he climbed. “Ben! Change of plans–we’re walking tonight, you lazy fuck!”
A loud, miserable groan echoed down from upstairs. “Are you serious?!”
Jeff’s laughter faded as he disappeared up the steps.
Jack clicked his kit shut and stood, smoothing his jacket. He gave the room a quick, polite once-over before heading toward the basement door that led to the infirmary.
Toby muttered under his breath, “I just wanna be left alone,” and shoved off the couch. His shoulders hitched with another violent tic as he turned and trudged upstairs, boots heavy on the old wood. The conversation, the noise, the unwanted advice - it all pressed in too much. He needed the quiet of his room, even if his head wouldn’t stop spinning with thoughts of you, that stupid party, and the sick feeling that maybe Jack was right… but it still fucking hurt.
Toby shoved his bedroom door open and slammed it shut behind him with enough force to make the old frame rattle and a few dust particles drift down from the ceiling. The sound cut through the quiet upstairs hallway like a final fuck-you to the rest of the house. He leaned back against the wood for a second, breathing hard, shoulders hitching violently as a string of tics rolled through him - neck cracking sharply to the left, then again.
“F-fuck…” he muttered under his breath.
The room was a mess, same as always: clothes piled on the floor, his cracked phone still glowing faintly on the unmade bed from earlier. He dropped onto the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, and dragged his hands through his messy brown hair.
At first, all he could think about was the clearing. The way you’d looked on your knees, then standing there holding his hatchet like it was nothing. Something had snapped in him the second he saw you gripping that blade - his blade, the one still stained with old blood no matter how many times he cleaned it. The raw, dangerous thrill of pressing it to your throat while he was buried deep inside you… the way your pussy had clenched around him when he growled those dark words about how easy it would be to kill you right there.
His cock twitched at the memory, even through the anger still simmering in his chest. You’d been so fucking hot - glossy lips, flushed cheeks, that little cut on your throat afterward that you’d actually called hot. He pulled his phone out and opened your chat, scrolling straight to the photo you’d sent him last night. Tits out, panties pulled down just enough, that teasing smirk on your lips.
He stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering over the screen. Pathetically, almost without thinking, he brought the phone closer and pressed his lips to the image of your chest. The glass was cold against his mouth. He held it there for a second, eyes squeezed shut, before pulling back with a shaky breath.
“Miss you already…” he whispered, voice rough.
But the warm memory soured fast. He thought about going to the party. Showing up for you. Making you happy like you’d asked, dancing with you or whatever normal shit people did. For a moment it almost sounded doable - just wear the bandana, stay in the corner, keep his head down. You’d smile at him. Maybe drag him onto the floor and grind on him like you had in the woods.
He opened the camera app and flipped it to selfie mode.
The sight hit him like a truck. Messy brown hair sticking up everywhere, the thick jagged scar cutting across his cheek and mouth, the faded bruises from the fight with Tim still visible. His neck twitched hard again, making the image blur for a second. He looked like a fucking freak. Crowds would stare. People would whisper. The noise, the lights, the bodies pressing in - he’d hate every second of it. He’d ruin your night just by being there.
The idea died instantly.
“Stupid,” he muttered, locking the phone and tossing it onto the bed. “F-fucking stupid.”
The anger shifted. It wasn’t really your fault, was it? You were just… normal. You worked at a gas station, had friends, wanted to go out and have fun sometimes. But Andy - that smug, tattooed asshole who was always around you, always texting you, always inviting you to shit. If he hadn’t pushed the party, none of this would’ve happened. You wouldn’t have gone against what Toby wanted. You wouldn’t have walked away from him looking so pissed.
Toby sat there for a long time, staring at the floor while tics jerked through his body. The spiral kept feeding him worse and worse thoughts: you laughing with Andy under club lights, Andy’s arm around your shoulders, Andy taking you home later. His hands clenched into fists until his knuckles cracked.
He needed to know more about that fucker.
With a heavy sigh, Toby reached under his bed and dragged out his old, beat-up laptop. The thing was ancient - Ben had mocked it endlessly - but it still worked for basic shit. He wasn’t about to crawl to Ben for help. This was his business. His girl. His problem.
The screen flickered to life with a low hum. Toby cracked his neck again and started typing Andy’s name into a search bar, along with the gas station town and anything else he could remember from your stories. His eyes narrowed at the screen as results slowly loaded.
He had an idea forming already. Nothing solid yet. But he’d figure it out. One way or another.
You spent hours getting ready, channeling all your frustration into making yourself look good.
You picked out a cute black skirt that hugged your hips and flared out just enough to swish when you moved, pairing it with a glittery silver top that caught the light beautifully. You did your makeup more dramatically than usual - sharp winged eyeliner, smoky eyes, and a bold glossy lip. You teased your hair until it fell in big, bouncy waves around your shoulders, adding just a touch of shimmer to your collarbones and cleavage for extra effect.
You traced the thin cut on your throat with a fingertip, the shallow nick still faintly stinging. It was bigger than you’d thought when Toby kissed it in the clearing - longer, a little more noticeable now that the adrenaline and post-sex haze had faded. The memory of how it happened flashed through your mind: the cold blade pressed against your skin while he fucked you deep and desperate, the way his grip had tightened right as he came. You shivered, a confusing mix of heat and lingering worry curling in your stomach.
You thought about covering it with makeup. A little concealer, maybe. But something stopped you. You left it bare, visible under the light. A small, private reminder of Toby - of how intense and dangerous and him the whole thing had been.
When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you felt good. Hot, even. Like you were stepping out as your own main character tonight.
Still, the knot in your stomach hadn’t fully disappeared. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a quick shot of vodka, downing it in one smooth motion. The burn helped settle your nerves a little. Just enough liquid courage to push through the lingering anger and doubt about Toby.
By the time the clock hit 11:00 PM, you were out the door.
You made sure to lock up carefully, double-checking the deadbolt before slipping your keys into your small bag. The night air was cooler than the afternoon had been, wrapping around your bare legs as you started walking toward the bus station. Your heels clicked loudly against the pavement with every step - a sharp, confident rhythm in the quiet night. The sound echoed slightly off the surrounding houses and trees, making the walk feel longer than it was.
You reached the bus stop and leaned against the shelter, pulling a cigarette from your bag. You lit it with a soft flick of your lighter, inhaling deeply as the smoke curled up into the dark sky.
Your mind immediately drifted back to Toby.
The memory of his face twisting with jealousy and insecurity replayed on loop. The way he’d grabbed your arm. The ugly words he’d thrown at you. The fear and anger that had flashed in his eyes when you said you were going anyway. Part of you still felt guilty - you knew he was damaged, knew he had serious issues - but another, louder part of you was pissed. He had no right to speak to you like that. No right to try and control you after everything you’d already accepted about him.
You took another long drag from the cigarette, staring out at the empty road as you waited for the bus. The glitter on your top sparkled faintly under the streetlight every time you moved. You looked hot. You felt hot. And you refused to let Toby’s bullshit ruin your night.
Still… you couldn’t stop wondering if he’d texted you yet. If he was sitting somewhere regretting what he’d said. Or if he was still spiraling, convinced you were going to cheat on him the second you walked into that club.
The distant rumble of the approaching bus pulled you out of your thoughts. You dropped the cigarette, crushing it under your heel as the bright lights cut through the darkness.
You were going to The Pit.
And you were going to have a good fucking time.
You stepped onto the nearly empty bus, the doors hissing shut behind you. There were only a couple of other passengers -a tired-looking older woman and a guy with headphones who didn’t even glance up. You picked a seat near the middle and settled in, the engine rumbling beneath you as the bus pulled away from the stop and headed out of town.
The ride was quiet. Streetlights blurred past the window as you left the familiar edges of your neighborhood and crossed into the next town over. You pulled out your phone and opened the location Andy had sent you earlier - “The Pit”- staring at the little red pin on the map. It looked unassuming from the satellite view. Nothing special.
Your thumb hovered over your chat with Toby.
The conversation was still open from earlier, the flirty messages from last night feeling like they belonged to a completely different day. You started typing something - “I’m heading to the club if you change your mind…” - then deleted it. Typed it again. Deleted it again.
You sighed heavily and locked the phone, shoving it deep into your bag. Fuck him. He didn’t get to ruin this too.
The bus finally pulled up to your stop. You thanked the driver quietly and stepped off into the cooler night air. The walk to the club was only about ten minutes, but your heels made it feel longer. The streets here were busier than yours - groups of people laughing, cars passing, the distant thump of bass already hinting at where you were headed.
The entrance to The Pit was surprisingly understated. Just a plain, unmarked black door squeezed between a closed laundromat and a shuttered pawn shop. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, you’d walk right past it.
You took a deep breath, adjusted your glittery top, and pulled the door open.
A wall of heat and sound slammed into you immediately.
The air inside was thick and warm, heavy with the smell of sweat, cheap perfume, and spilled alcohol. Unsteady wooden stairs led downward, painted a deep, bloody red that matched the walls. The music was loud - the bass so powerful you felt it vibrating in your chest even from the top of the stairs. Red lights pulsed and flickered below, painting everything in shifting shades of crimson and shadow.
You hesitated for just a second at the top, heart beating fast. Then you squared your shoulders, lifted your chin, and started walking down the stairs.
Each step made your black skirt swish around your thighs. The glitter on your top caught the red lights, sparkling with every movement. The deeper you went, the louder the music became - heavy electronic beats mixed with rap and bass drops that made the railing tremble under your hand.
When you reached the bottom, the club opened up in front of you: a crowded, hazy space bathed entirely in red. Bodies moved on the dance floor, lights flashed, and somewhere toward the back you could see the DJ booth lit up with glowing equipment.
You paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking it all in, a strange mix of nerves and defiant excitement swirling in your chest.
You started pushing your way through the dense crowd, squeezing between sweaty bodies that pulsed and swayed with the heavy bass. The air was thick and humid - a potent mix of spilled booze, cheap mixed perfumes, cigarette smoke, and pure human sweat. It clung to your skin as you moved, the red lights flashing across faces and glittery outfits all around you.
Your eyes lifted toward the elevated DJ booth at the far side of the club. There he was - Andy in his full element.
He looked completely in his zone: buzzcut freshly faded, tattoos snaking down his arms and across his chest, visible under a simple black tee that clung to him from the heat. Headphones clamped over one ear, he was swaying to the rhythm, one hand on the mixer, the other adjusting knobs with practiced ease. The bass dropped perfectly as he transitioned into a new track, and the crowd roared in approval. You couldn’t help but smile. Looking at him up there, confident and commanding the room, you never would’ve guessed he was the same lazy, conspiracy-ranting gas station coworker you joked with every shift.
He was actually really good.
You weaved through the crowd toward the stairs leading up to the booth, heels carefully navigating the sticky floor. When you got close enough, you waved your arms frantically and yelled his name over the music.
“Andy!”
He finally spotted you, his lazy grin spreading wide across his face. He motioned for you to come up, and the tall, bored-looking guy guarding the booth stairs gave you a quick once-over before stepping aside.
You climbed the short set of stairs and walked straight into Andy’s open arm. He pulled you into a quick side hug, careful not to lose his rhythm on the equipment, his body warm and slightly damp from the heat of the booth.
“You came!” he shouted over the music, clearly happy to see you. “This place is fucking insane tonight!”
You laughed, hugging him back tightly for a second. “This party is crazy! There are so many people!”
He nodded, already switching up the next song with smooth precision, fingers flying over the decks. The bass shifted seamlessly into something even dirtier, and the crowd went wild again.
“You look great,” he said, glancing over at you with an appreciative smirk. “For real. That top is doing numbers.”
You smiled, doing a little playful spin for him. Then his expression turned curious.
“You here with your boyfriend?”
You gave him a look and shook your head. “Nope. I’m here alone.”
You tried to keep your voice light, but the disappointment still slipped through. Andy saw right through it anyway. He gave you a knowing nod, not pushing for details, which you appreciated.
“I’m on for another hour or so,” he told you, eyes flicking back to his equipment as he adjusted something. “Then I’ll come down and hang with you. In the meantime, go buy yourself a drink on me.”
He rooted around in his pocket for a second, then pulled out a folded twenty-dollar bill. As he handed it to you, you felt the unmistakable little baggie tucked inside - a small, friendly gift.
You grinned, leaning in to kiss his cheek in a quick, friendly peck. “You’re the best, Andy. Seriously.”
He laughed and gave you a playful shove toward the stairs. “Go have fun! I’ll find you later.”
You slipped the twenty (and its bonus) into your bag and headed back down into the pulsing red crowd, the music vibrating through your entire body. The night was young, you looked good, and for the first time since the fight with Toby, you felt a spark of real excitement.
You were here to enjoy yourself.
And you damn well were going to.
You made your way through the throbbing crowd toward the bar area, the red lights pulsing across your skin with every step. The bar itself was packed, but you managed to squeeze into a small opening at the end. You flagged down the bartender - a tall guy with a nose ring and sleeves of tattoos - and ordered a strong mixed drink plus two shots of tequila.
While he poured, you chatted with him lightly, yelling over the music about how crazy the night was and how good Andy sounded. He laughed, nodding along as he slid the shots and your drink across the sticky bar top.
You handed him the twenty Andy had given you. Then you leaned against the bar, the cool wood pressing into your lower back, and threw back both shots one after another. The tequila burned pleasantly down your throat, warming your chest almost instantly.
You sipped your mixed drink slowly after that, the sweet liquor mixing with the lingering bite of the shots as you scanned the crowd. Bodies moved in waves under the flashing red lights. Couples grinding, groups laughing, people lost in the music. Your eyes kept drifting down to your phone, screen lighting up your face as you checked it again.
Still nothing from Toby.
No apology. No “where are you?” No anything.
You swallowed the sting of it and shoved your phone back into your bag. Fuck him.
Your fingers brushed against the little baggie Andy had slipped you. You pulled it out, staring at the small white pills inside. You had no idea what they were - Molly? Something else? At this point, you didn’t even care. You were here to have fun and forget the ugly fight in the woods.
You quickly popped one into your mouth and chased it with a long sip of your drink, the pill sliding down easily.
The decision came fast after that.
The music was too good to just stand around sulking. You finished most of your drink, set the glass on the bar, and slipped into the crowd.
It didn’t take long to find a group of girls who were clearly already very drunk and having the time of their lives. They were laughing loudly, dancing in a loose circle near the center of the floor. One of them - a tall girl with bright pink hair - spotted you and grinned, waving you over enthusiastically.
“Come dance with us!” she shouted.
You joined them without hesitation. The energy was infectious. The five of you quickly formed a little crew, moving together to the heavy bass, hands in the air, hips swaying. It was fun and lighthearted - no pressure, just pure chaotic joy. They complimented your outfit, hyped you up when you did a little spin, and screamed along to the lyrics with you.
The alcohol was hitting harder now, spreading a warm, fuzzy glow through your body. Your head felt pleasantly light, the edges of your thoughts softening as the pill started to kick in too. Colors seemed a little brighter under the red lights. The music thrummed deeper in your chest. Your skin tingled with warmth and the press of bodies around you.
You laughed as one of the girls grabbed your hands and spun you around, your black skirt flaring out and your glittery top catching the lights like stars. The bass dropped again, and the whole dance floor roared.
You let yourself get lost in it.
The night had blurred into a hazy, pulsing rhythm.
The pill you’d taken started hitting hard and fast out of nowhere. The world tilted slightly, colors bleeding brighter, the bass sinking deeper into your bones. Everything felt electric. One moment you were holding hands with the pink-haired girl, spinning and screaming lyrics, and the next… they were gone. Swept away by the crowd or lost in your own haze - you weren’t sure.
You didn’t care.
You danced alone now, eyes half-closed, hips swaying sensually to the heavy, freaky beat. The music was filthy and catchy, the kind that made you feel sexy just existing in it. You sang along under your breath, hands sliding down your own body, glitter sparkling across your chest every time the lights flashed. Every now and then you glanced up toward the DJ booth, catching Andy’s eye. He’d shoot you a lazy grin and a nod, clearly pleased you were having fun.
The high crept up on you stronger with every passing minute - warm, fuzzy euphoria mixing with the alcohol, making your skin tingle and your thoughts melt into liquid pleasure.
That’s when you felt it.
A pair of clammy, sweaty hands grabbed your hips from behind, yanking you back hard against a solid, overheated body. The sudden grip cut through the haze like ice water. You jolted, trying to twist away, but the stranger only laughed low and sloppy in your ear, his breath hot and reeking of cheap liquor and cigarettes.
“Hey, baby,” the random guy slurred, voice thick and entitled. “You’ve been dancing like a little slut all night. Shaking that ass for everyone to see. Why don’t you stop teasing and dance with a real man, huh?”
You froze, heart slamming against your ribs. The euphoric buzz fractured instantly. You pushed at his arms, trying to pry his fingers off your hips. “Let go,” you said sharply, voice raised to cut through the music. “I’m not interested. Get off me.”
He didn’t listen. If anything, his grip tightened, hips grinding crudely against you in time with the filthy bass. One hand slid lower, boldly groping at the hem of your short black skirt, fingers brushing the back of your thigh.
“C’mon, don’t be a stuck-up bitch,” he laughed, the sound ugly and wet against your ear. “I saw you looking all lonely out here. I can make you feel real good–”
Your stomach twisted with disgust and rising panic. The high made everything feel too intense - the press of his sweaty body, the sticky heat, the way the red lights pulsed across his leering face when you glanced back. You struggled harder, elbowing backward, but the crowd was too dense and he was too drunk and insistent to care. No one around you seemed to notice. Everyone else was lost in their own worlds - drunk, high, eyes glazed, bodies moving to the rhythm. A few people glanced over but quickly looked away, too out of it to intervene.
Before you could shout again, the guy was suddenly ripped backward with brutal force.
You stumbled forward, catching yourself as the stranger’s hands were torn off you. The crowd shifted lazily around the commotion, but not many heads turned. Just another drunk idiot causing a scene in a club full of drunk idiots.
Jeff appeared like he’d materialized from the red shadows themselves.
He towered over the sleazy guy, one big hand fisted tight in the man’s collar, yanking him close. Jeff’s long, messy black hair cascaded past his shoulders, strands sticking to his face from the heat. He wore a tight black tee that clung to his lean, toned torso, old scars visible along his veiny forearms. His thin, self-inflicted smile scars stretched as that lazy, predatory smirk pulled at his mouth. His dark eyes were glassy and blown from whatever he was on, but they gleamed with sharp, amused danger.
In one smooth, practiced motion, Jeff pulled his knife from his waistband and pressed the blade discreetly against the man’s stomach, hidden between their bodies so it wasn’t obviously waving a weapon around the club. Only the sleazy guy - and you - could feel the threat.
“Aw, c’mon now,” Jeff drawled, voice low, raspy, and mocking, loud enough to carry just between them and you. “You really out here groping girls who clearly don’t want your nasty fuckin’ hands on them? That’s pathetic as shit, man. Real bottom-of-the-barrel behavior.”
The guy sputtered, trying to shove Jeff off, face flushing with alcohol and fear. “The fuck, man? We were just dancing–”
Jeff’s smirk widened, pressing the knife a little firmer against the man’s gut, twisting the handle just enough for him to feel the sharp point through his shirt.
“Dancin’? That what you call it when a bitch is tellin’ you to fuck off and you still got your hands all over her ass?” Jeff chuckled darkly, tilting his head. His long hair shifted with the movement. “I should gut you right here like the sad little rapey fuck you are. Spill your guts all over this sticky floor while everyone keeps dancing. Bet no one would even notice.”
The sleazy guy’s eyes widened in panic. He went pale, mouth opening and closing uselessly.
Jeff didn’t give him time to recover. In a flash, he pulled the knife back and slammed a vicious punch into the man’s face. The crack of knuckles meeting nose was sickeningly loud. Blood exploded from the guy’s nostrils, spraying dark across his shirt as he stumbled backward with a pained, gurgling cry, hands flying up to clutch his bleeding face.
A few people nearby gasped and turned their heads, but the reaction was muted - most of the club was too drunk or high to care beyond a quick glance. The red lights kept flashing, the bass kept thumping. Just another Saturday night scuffle.
The bleeding man didn’t stick around. Terrified and humiliated, he turned and shoved desperately through the crowd, disappearing into the mass of bodies while clutching his broken nose.
Jeff casually wiped the blood from his knuckles onto his black shirt, leaving a dark smear, then glanced around at the few people still staring. His voice carried that same lazy, mocking drawl.
“The fuck are you idiots looking at? Mind your own goddamn business and keep dancing. Ain’t nothing to see here.”
The onlookers quickly averted their eyes and went back to their own hazy worlds. The club swallowed the incident whole.
Only then did Jeff turn fully toward you.
It took your fuzzy, euphoric brain a second to place him - Jared? No… John? No… Jeff. That’s it. The tall, scarred guy from the gas station. Andy’s big-spending client. The one who’d shamelessly flirted with you.
He stepped closer, towering over you in the pulsing red lights. Up close he looked even more dangerous - long black hair framing his sharp, scarred face, dark eyes blown wide. His smirk was pure smug satisfaction as he looked you up and down, clearly appreciating the view.
“Well, well… look who it is,” he murmured, close enough that you could smell cigarettes and cologne on him. “Harley. You good? That piece of shit didn’t get too handsy before I showed up?”
You struggled to keep it together. Your heart was hammering, the high making every sensation feel ten times stronger - the lingering ghost of those clammy hands on your hips, the sticky heat of the club, the way the red lights kept flashing across everything like nothing had happened. You swallowed hard and quickly ran your fingers through your messy, teased waves, trying to smooth them down. You tugged at the hem of your short black skirt, adjusting the glittery silver top that had shifted during the struggle. Your hands were still trembling slightly as you collected yourself.
Jeff watched you the entire time, that lazy smirk never leaving his face.
You forced a shaky little laugh, trying to play it cool. “Well… looks like the Joker just saved the day. Thanks for the dramatic entrance.”
Jeff let out a low, raspy chuckle, the sound vibrating through the space between you. His eyes dragged slowly up and down your body - lingering on the shimmer across your cleavage, the way your skirt sat on your hips - before flicking back up to your face. “That’s what I’m here for.”
You shrugged, still trying to steady your breathing. “I’m used to this kind of shit, honestly. Working the night shift at a gas station… you get all kinds of creeps thinking they can just grab whatever they want.”
Jeff nodded, stepping a little closer. The heat rolling off his body mixed with the thick, humid air of the club. The whole room was spinning - you hesitated for only a second before reaching out and holding onto his arm for balance, shaky fingers wrapping around his bicep.
He let you hold on, his smirk deepening as he leaned down, lips brushing close to your ear so you could hear him over the pounding music.
“You okay, baby?” he murmured, voice laced with that mocking amusement. “You a little high right now?”
You nodded, biting your glossy lip as another warm wave from the pill rolled through you. “Yeah… I’m good,” you breathed, voice a little breathier than you intended. “Just… caught me off guard.”
Jeff hummed, clearly pleased. He stayed close, letting you keep your grip on his arm as the bass thumped around you. His free hand lightly brushed the hem of your short black skirt, fingers grazing the fabric.
“Fuck, I like this little skirt on you,” he said, voice dripping with appreciation. “Short enough to make a man lose his mind, but you already knew that, didn’t you?” He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, that predatory grin widening. “C’mon, give me a little spin. Show me how it moves.”
You let out a surprised giggle, the tension from the sleazy guy already starting to melt. You held onto his arm for support and did a slow little spin. The black skirt flared out around your thighs, glitter sparkling wildly across your chest and collarbones under the flashing red lights. When you faced him again, you were smiling - genuinely this time.
Jeff’s dark eyes were locked on you the whole time, hungry and entertained. He let out another low chuckle and flexed his bicep under your grip.
“Goddamn. That’s dangerous, baby. You keep spinning like that and I might have to fight off more assholes tonight.”
The casual vulgarity, the smug way he carried himself - it should have felt overwhelming. But in your current state, with the pill buzzing warmly through your veins and the adrenaline from the incident fading, it felt… thrilling. Distracting. Exactly what you needed to push the memory of those unwanted hands out of your head.
For the first time since the guy had grabbed you, your mind was off what had just happened.
The red lights pulsed across Jeff’s face, highlighting the thin smile lines carved into his cheeks. For a moment he just drank you in - your flushed cheeks, the glitter sparkling on your cleavage, the way your skirt had flared and settled around your thighs.
Then his gaze drifted higher.
His smirk faltered for half a second as he zeroed in on the thin, pink cut along your throat. The shallow nick stood out under the flashing lights. Jeff’s expression shifted - something darker and more intrigued flickering behind his blown pupils. He lifted his free hand slowly, almost gently, and brushed his thumb gently along the edge of the cut, barely grazing the sensitive skin.
A low whistle escaped him under his breath.
“Goddamn,” he murmured, voice rough and raspy. His eyes snapped back up to yours, magnetic and intense, holding your gaze like he could see straight through the hazy high clouding your mind. It was as if everything had clicked into place for him in that single moment - the mark, the way you carried yourself tonight, the faint flush still on your skin.
His thumb stroked the cut again, feather-light, sending a shiver down your spine.
“You like it rough, huh?” he asked, the words low and vulgar, laced with that smug amusement.
You felt heat flood your face. The memory of Toby pressing the flat of his hatchet blade to your throat while he fucked you deep and desperate flashed through your mind, unbidden. You nodded, voice coming out soft and a little breathless. “Yeah…”
Jeff’s smirk widened into something almost feral. “You into knife play too?” He leaned in closer, thumb still tracing the edge of the shallow cut with careful fascination, like he was admiring someone else’s handiwork.
You shrugged, the high making it hard to filter your words. “Something like that,” you muttered, biting your glossy lip.
The look he gave you then was pure reverence - like you’d just blessed him personally. His dark eyes gleamed with fresh hunger, long black hair falling forward as he tilted his head. “Fuck, Harley… you just keep getting more interesting.” His thumb pressed a little firmer against the cut, not enough to hurt, but enough for you to feel it. The touch was appreciative, and dangerously intimate in the middle of the crowded club.
Thoughts of Toby slammed into you all at once.
The way he’d looked at you in the clearing - desperate and feral after you’d held his hatchet. The cold steel against your throat while he railed you from behind. The way he’d cum so hard he accidentally nicked you, then panicked and kissed it afterward like he was terrified he’d actually hurt you. Guilt twisted sharp and sudden in your chest, cutting through the euphoric buzz. This mark wasn’t just some random thing. It was Toby’s. Raw and intense and private.
You gently caught Jeff’s wrist and pushed his hand away from your throat, your fingers lingering for a second before letting go. You bit your lip harder, suddenly unsure what to say, the words tangling in your hazy mind.
Before you could find them, an exasperated voice cut through the pulsing music.
“Jeff, what the fuck, man? I turn around for two seconds and you disappear again–”
A guy appeared almost out of nowhere, holding two plastic cups of alcohol in his hands. He elbowed Jeff’s arm roughly, nearly spilling the drinks.
The newcomer was blonde, much shorter than Jeff, and wearing an oversized 2Pac shirt that hung loose on his frame, paired with baggy pants and a beanie pulled low despite the sweltering heat of the club. He looked cute in a disheveled, ridiculous sort of way. His eyes were bloodshot and his pupils were huge, clearly just as high as Jeff, but unlike Jeff’s relaxed confidence, this guy looked nervous and on edge. His gaze flicked between you and Jeff with obvious irritation.
He shoved one of the plastic cups into Jeff’s hand, his voice tight and exasperated as he tried to be heard over the pounding music.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere, dude. You can’t just leave me alone in this fucking crowd.”
Jeff took the drink with a lazy grin, completely unbothered. He shrugged one broad shoulder, long black hair shifting as he glanced between you and the blonde.
“Calm down, Benny. I just got distracted,” he said, nodding toward you with a smirk.
The new guy finally seemed to register your presence fully. His bloodshot eyes gave you a quick once-over, lingering for a second on your glittery top and cleavage before he flushed red and looked away awkwardly.
Jeff nudged him with his elbow. “Don’t be rude, introduce yourself.”
Ben rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. “Uh… I’m Ben,” he muttered, offering his hand.
You shook it, your palm still a little clammy from the earlier incident. “Nice to meet you. I’m–” You gave him your name, then added with a small smile, “Andy’s been talking about you, by the way.”
That seemed to catch Ben’s attention. His eyes widened slightly behind the haze. “Wait, you know Andy?”
“Yeah, he’s my coworker,” you replied, still holding onto Jeff’s arm for balance as the club spun pleasantly around you.
Ben nodded, looking a bit more relaxed. “Cool, cool.”
While you were talking, Jeff lazily reached into his pocket and pulled out a small baggie of fine white powder. Without any attempt at subtlety, he poured a generous amount straight into his plastic cup, swirling it with a finger before handing the drink over to you.
“Can’t let the lady be thirsty,” he said with that same smug, mocking grin.
You gave him a pointed look - half-annoyed, half-amused - but the high made it hard to care as much as you probably should. You took the cup and sipped anyway. The fruity alcohol masked most of the taste, but you felt the sharp chemical kick almost immediately, a new rush blooming hot and fast in your chest. The world sharpened and softened at the same time.
You lowered the cup and turned back to Ben, gesturing vaguely toward the dance floor. “Some idiot just grabbed me a minute ago. Wouldn’t let go even when I told him to fuck off. Jeff… handled it.”
Ben’s eyes went wide. “Dude, no way,” he gasped. He glanced at the blood smear on Jeff’s shirt, then back at you. “You okay?”
For a brief moment he actually seemed to relax into the conversation, the shared chaos pulling him out of his own head. But it didn’t last long. His shoulders stayed tense, eyes darting around at the pulsing crowd like it might swallow him whole. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, clutching his own cup tighter.
“Jeff, I wanna leave,” he said, voice tight. “You tricked me into coming here and my claustrophobia is kicking in hard. I fucking hate crowds.”
Jeff just ignored him at first, sipping from his own spiked drink and watching you with that predatory glint in his eyes, clearly more interested in the way you were still holding his arm than in Ben’s panic.
You felt a little bad for Ben - he looked genuinely on edge, nervous and overwhelmed despite being high. His face was flushed, beanie slightly askew, and he kept glancing toward the exit like it was his only lifeline. The poor guy was clearly way out of his element.
“Hey,” you said, raising your voice over the music and giving him a sympathetic smile. “Why don’t we step outside for some fresh air? Get away from the crowd for a bit.”
Ben gave you a genuinely thankful look, nodding quickly. “Yes. Please.”
Jeff sighed dramatically, tilting his head back before downing the rest of his drink in one go. He crushed the cup and tossed it somewhere behind him.
“Fine,” he said, waving a hand. “Lead the way.”
You led the way through the packed dance floor, the red lights still swirling around you as the high made everything feel a little dreamlike. Jeff stayed right behind you, and Ben trailed a few steps behind, looking increasingly uncomfortable.
You pushed the heavy door open at the top and stepped out into the cool night air. The sudden drop in temperature was refreshing and sobering after the suffocating heat of the club. You leaned back against the brick wall just outside the entrance, closing your eyes for a second as you tried to steady your spinning thoughts. Your head was scrambling, a dizzy mix of alcohol, the pill, the spiked drink, and the overwhelming bass still echoing faintly in your ears.
Jeff stepped up beside you, leaning one shoulder against the wall. Ben, on the other hand, looked like he was fighting for his life. He took several deep, shaky breaths, muttering a string of curse words under his breath as he paced a small circle, trying to collect himself.
You glanced over at Jeff and asked quietly, “Is he… alright?”
Jeff chuckled, low and raspy, glancing at his friend with clear amusement. “Yeah, he just gets a little anxious around people. It’s fine.”
Ben shot him a dirty look and flipped him off. “Fuck you, man.” He finally straightened up, still breathing hard. “You promised me a chill night at the strip club, not this fucking insane overcrowded hellhole.”
Jeff just shrugged, completely unbothered. “Andy sent me the invite. Figured it’d be fun to drag your ass out of the house for once.”
Ben groaned loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, you didn’t have to fucking trick me, dude. I just wanted to see some ass, you told me–” Then his expression shifted. He went pale.
“I’m… feeling kinda sick,” he muttered.
You raised your eyebrows, a little concerned. “Please don’t throw up–”
Too late.
Ben suddenly bolted a few feet away to the other side of the wall and doubled over, vomiting violently onto the pavement. The sounds were loud and grotesque in the quiet night air. His whole body shook with each wave.
It was honestly ridiculous. Almost comic.
You stared for a second, then couldn’t help the small, disbelieving laugh that escaped you. Jeff was outright grinning, shaking his head at his friend’s misfortune like it was the funniest thing he’d seen all night.
Ben stayed hunched over for a long moment, spitting and cursing weakly between heaves, one hand braced against the brick wall for support.
While Ben was still recovering, you reached into your small bag and pulled out two cigarettes. You lit them both with a quick flick of your lighter, the flame briefly illuminating your face in the dim streetlight. You handed one to Jeff.
He took it with a small nod, his fingers brushing yours. For a moment the two of you stood in silence, smoking. You watched as he brought the cigarette to his lips, his sharp jaw flexing, cheeks hollowing as he took a slow, deep drag.
Jeff caught you staring. His dark eyes met yours through the haze of smoke, that smug smirk tugging at his lips again. You cleared your throat and quickly looked away, focusing instead on the ground.
Ben finally straightened up with a long, miserable groan. He spat one last time onto the pavement, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and shuffled back over to you and Jeff. His baggy pants were sagging even lower now, and his beanie was slightly askew, revealing strands of surprisingly long, messy blonde hair underneath.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered, clearly ashamed. His face was flushed, eyes still bloodshot. “I’m never leaving the house again. This was a mistake.”
You chuckled softly, the high making the whole thing feel less gross and more absurdly funny. You rooted around in your small bag for a second before pulling out a pack of gum. You handed him a piece with a sympathetic smile.
Ben took it gratefully, nodding. “Thanks… seriously.”
You tried to smooth over the awkwardness, leaning back against the cool brick wall. “It’s fine, really. Parties can get overwhelming. It’s not really my thing either–I’m just here to support Andy.”
Ben took out his vape from his pocket, fiddling with it for a second before taking a long pull. Sweet-smelling vapor mixed with the cigarette smoke as he exhaled, joining the hazy cloud the three of you were creating in the cool night air. He still looked shaky but slightly more grounded now that he was outside and had something to occupy his hands.
Jeff smoked slowly, his gaze drifting back to the thin cut on your throat. He eyed it with open interest, the red cherry of his cigarette glowing as he exhaled another plume of smoke into the cool night air.
“So,” he drawled, voice low and raspy, “where’s your man tonight?”
You rolled your eyes a little, taking a drag from your own cigarette. The smoke burned pleasantly in your lungs. “He’s busy,” you muttered.
Jeff chuckled, the sound dark and amused. “The mystery man is always busy, huh?” He tilted his head, long black hair shifting over his shoulder as he studied you. “Funny how that works.”
You hummed, biting your glossy lip as thoughts of Toby flooded back in - the fight in the woods, the way he’d grabbed your arm, the hurt and anger in his eyes when you walked away. The high and alcohol were making everything feel heavier, more emotional than it should.
Jeff leaned one shoulder more comfortably against the brick wall, still watching you. “If he’s as armed and dangerous as you described him last time, he should be here with you, right? Protecting what’s his. Making sure shit like that fucker inside doesn’t happen.”
Ben looked between the two of you, trying to follow the conversation while still vaping nervously, his bloodshot eyes darting around.
You sighed, shrugging as you took one last long drag from your cigarette before dropping it and crushing it under your heel. The cool night air brushed against your bare legs, but the warmth from the substances in your system kept you flushed. Thinking about Toby right now - after everything that happened in the clearing, after the fight, after Jeff stepping in like that - made your chest feel tight. Your eyes stung unexpectedly.
“Stop prying, Jeff,” you said, voice quieter than you meant it to be.
Jeff chuckled again, low and teasing. “Ooh, hit a nerve there, did I?”
Ben shifted awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Maybe she doesn’t wanna talk about it, man…”
“It’s fine,” you insisted, even as your voice wavered. You crossed your arms over your glittery top, suddenly feeling exposed. “We just… got into a fight earlier. That’s all. Nothing crazy.”
The words hung in the air. You tried to hold it together, but it was hard. Your eyes started to water. You blinked rapidly, clearing your throat and looking away toward the empty street.
Ben and Jeff shared a quick look - a classic oh shit, emotional girl look. Neither of them seemed to know what to do with it. Jeff’s smirk faltered for a second, while Ben looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.
You took a deep breath, forcing the tears back. “It’s for the best he wasn’t here anyway,” you added, trying to sound casual. “If he was, he would’ve killed that guy. Like… actually.”
Ben actually let out a surprised laugh, the sound a little hysterical from the high. “Hey, don’t underestimate Jeff here. He was probably just feeling nice tonight.”
You laughed softly despite yourself, the absurdity cutting through the emotion for a moment. They had no idea. No idea that your boyfriend was actually a killer who carried hatchets and lived with other murderers.
“Well… you don’t know my boyfriend,” you said, a small, wry smile tugging at your lips.
Jeff seemed a little challenged by that. He lazily reached out and touched your shoulder, his fingers warm against your skin as he smirked down at you. “You don’t know me either, baby.”
You giggled, humming sarcastically. “Oookay, I believe you. Guess I’m just surrounded by killers.”
Ben and Jeff made eye contact and burst out laughing - Jeff’s laugh low and raspy, Ben’s more hysterical and uncontrolled, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. You blinked, smiling in confusion. You didn’t know what exactly was so funny, but their laughter was contagious enough that you found yourself grinning along.
Jeff took another drag from his cigarette, still smirking. “I’d love to meet that mystery man one day.”
Ben added with a snort, “Yeah, that’d be one hell of a dick sizing contest.”
Your phone buzzed in your bag.
Your heart jumped. For a second you thought it might be Toby - maybe an apology, maybe asking where you were, something. You quickly pulled it out, but the screen showed Andy’s name instead.
Andy:
where u at?
You typed back fast: Right outside
Andy:
omw
You slipped your phone back into your bag and leaned a little more comfortably against the brick wall, the cool night air helping clear some of the fog in your head, and asked, “So… how do you two know each other?”
Ben answered first, still chewing his gum. “We’ve known each other forever. We’re roomies.”
You nodded with a small smile. “That’s nice. Do you guys live nearby?”
“Yeah, pretty near,” Ben muttered, glancing off toward the street. “Out by the woods…” He trailed off, then quickly changed the subject, his voice picking up a bit more energy. “You like to game at all?”
You shrugged, your movements loose and slow. “A little. I’m not super into it, but I’ll play sometimes.”
That was all Ben needed.
His face lit up a little and he launched into a surprisingly passionate rant. “Dude, gaming is the best. I’ve been grinding this new open-world RPG that just dropped–the graphics are insane, the storytelling is actually decent for once, and the combat system–” He went on for a solid minute, hands gesturing animatedly as he talked about builds, lore, and why certain games were superior. His social anxiety seemed to melt away now that he was on familiar ground and away from the suffocating crowd inside.
You smiled softly, finding it genuinely cute. He looked so much more relaxed out here, long blonde hair messy under his crooked beanie, eyes bright despite being bloodshot. It was a nice contrast to how panicked he’d been just minutes ago.
All the while, Jeff stayed quiet, watching you.
His dark eyes never really left your face. After a moment, he casually reached out and started toying with a strand of your hair, twirling the glossy, teased lock around his finger. The gesture was slow, his knuckles brushing lightly against your shoulder. He listened to Ben’s rant with mild amusement, but his attention was clearly on you - the way his gaze lingered on your lips, your glittery top, your throat.
You felt the weight of his stare like a physical touch.
Ben was still mid-sentence about some boss fight when Jeff finally spoke, voice low and teasing, still playing with your hair.
“You’re a good listener,” he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear over Ben’s enthusiastic rambling. “Most girls would’ve tuned him out by now.”
Ben paused, noticing what Jeff was doing, and rolled his eyes. “Dude, I heard that.”
You couldn’t help the small, hazy laugh that escaped you, caught between Ben’s endearing nerdiness and Jeff’s shameless flirting.
Jeff chuckled, still twirling that strand of your hair around his finger. “Sorry, nerd,” he teased Ben, not sounding sorry at all. “Didn’t mean to steal the spotlight from your epic gaming lecture.”
Ben rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small grin tugging at his mouth.
Before you could respond, the club door swung open again.
Andy stepped out, the loud music spilling into the night for a brief second before the door shut again. His buzzcut was slightly sweaty from the heat inside, tattoos gleaming under the streetlight as he grinned at the sight of you and Jeff standing way too close together. He took in the whole scene - you leaning against the wall, Jeff’s hand still playing with your hair..
“There you are, dude!” Andy said, grabbing your arm lightly and pulling you into a quick side hug.
You greeted him happily, the high making your voice warm and bubbly. “Hey! Finally done?”
Andy clapped hands with Jeff in that casual bro-way, then his eyes landed on Ben. Something clicked. His eyes went wide.
“Dude… no fucking way. Is this Ben?” He looked back and forth between Jeff and the blonde guy like he couldn’t believe it.
Ben laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. Jeff just smirked, clearly entertained. “Yeah man, finally managed to drag his ass out of the house.”
Andy let out a genuine laugh and stepped forward, pulling Ben into a quick, enthusiastic hug. “Holy shit, it’s so nice to finally meet you, man! This is so cool. My most loyal customer!”
Ben grinned, clapping Andy on the back. “Yeah… well, I was promised strippers and instead I got dragged to this crowded hellhole.”
Andy barked out another laugh. “Ohhh yeah, you got some social anxiety, right? That’s cool, dude. I’m happy you made it one way or another.”
The three of them fell into easy, casual bro-talk - teasing, laughing, inside jokes flying around. You found the whole thing oddly cute through the warm haze of the high. You smiled softly, tugging at the hem of your short black skirt and leaning back against the cool brick wall as you watched them.
Andy eventually turned and threw his tattooed arm around your shoulders, pulling you against his side. “So… have these two been nice to my favorite coworker?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
You chuckled and leaned into him comfortably. “Mostly.” Then you glanced over at Jeff, giving him an appreciative look. “Actually, Jeff saved me in there. Some sleazy asshole wouldn’t keep his hands off me. Jeff stepped in and handled it.”
Andy’s eyes widened. “Woah, respect man,” he said, looking at Jeff with genuine appreciation and giving him a solid fist bump. “Thanks for looking out for her. I owe you one.” He turned to you, his arm still around your shoulders, concern flickering across his face. “You okay though? For real?”
You nodded, offering a small but reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Thanks to Jeff.”
Jeff just shrugged one broad shoulder, that signature smug smirk tugging at his scarred mouth. “Wasn’t a big deal,” he said casually. “Couldn’t let some pathetic fuck ruin your night.”
You smiled at him again, warm and genuine, the high making the moment feel softer than it probably should. Jeff’s dark eyes met yours, holding the look for a beat longer than necessary.
Ben, meanwhile, stayed quiet. He just smoked his vape steadily, the sweet vapor curling around him as his bloodshot eyes kept flicking over to you - watching the way you leaned into Andy, the way you smiled at Jeff, the faint cut on your throat. He didn’t say much, but his gaze lingered.
Andy was grinning ear to ear, clearly buzzing from both the gig and the surprise of finally meeting Ben. He kept his tattooed arm slung casually around your shoulders as he spoke, clearly excited.
“Man, this is wild. I’ve been wondering who the fuck this Ben guy was for months,” he said, looking at Ben with genuine amusement. “You’re a legend online, dude. The way you carry in those games? Insane. And then you’re the same dude hitting me up every week for the biggest orders I get, always sending them to some sketchy-ass address out in the woods like you’re running from the feds or something.”
Ben let out a genuine laugh, exhaling smoke. His beanie was still a little crooked. “Yeah… I don’t really go out much. It’s just not my thing. Easier to stay in and game.”
“I get it, I get it,” Andy nodded, understanding. “But we should all link up sometime for real. Not just business shit. My place isn’t bad–got a decent setup, big TV, plenty of space. We could run some games or whatever.”
Jeff, still leaning against the wall beside you, smirked. “I’m in,” he said casually, eyes sliding over to you, “but only if she’s there too.”
You rolled your eyes and pushed his shoulder lightly, laughing despite yourself. “Shut up.”
Andy barked out a loud laugh, squeezing your shoulders. “See? Jeff’s playing a losing game. She’s veeeery in love with her man. Like, stupidly in love. You should see the way she lights up talking about him at work.”
Your cheeks burned. You blushed hard, the high making the warmth spread even faster across your face. Still, you nodded, a small, genuine smile tugging at your lips. “Mhm… you got that right.”
Jeff muttered something low and cocky under his breath as he looked at you with that half-lidded stare. “We’ll see about that.”
You shook your head, smiling wider as you leaned a little more into Andy’s side. The whole interaction felt strangely easy and chaotic at the same time. Everything felt a little softer around the edges, the red glow from the club door spilling out and painting the sidewalk in shifting crimson tones.
Ben took another hit and passed the vape to Andy, who accepted it with a grateful nod. The conversation drifted naturally - Andy asking Ben what games he’d been playing lately, Ben explaining some new mechanics, Jeff occasionally throwing in lazy, sarcastic comments while his eyes kept drifting back to you.
Andy eventually checked the time on his phone and nodded toward the club door. “Aight, we heading back inside or what?”
Ben immediately shook his head, laughing nervously. “No fucking way, man. I’m good out here.”
Jeff smirked and slung a long arm around Ben’s shoulders, towering over the shorter guy as he looked between you and Andy.
“Guess I’m keeping my promise,” Jeff said, voice low and amused. “I’m taking him to the strip club like I said I would.” He glanced at you, that cocky grin widening. “You’re more than welcome to join, Harley.”
You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah… not happening. Gross.”
Andy grinned down at you, his arm still comfortably around your shoulders. “You heard the lady. I’ll be keeping her company for tonight.”
You said your goodbyes. Ben, still looking a little flushed but more relaxed now that he was outside and the night air had helped, gave you a shy smile. You stepped forward and pulled him into a quick, friendly goodbye hug. Ben stiffened for half a second in surprise before awkwardly patting your back, his baggy 2Pac shirt bunching up under your arms.
Ben and Andy then launched into their own long, drawn-out goodbye - clapping hands, laughing about future gaming sessions, Andy hyping Ben up about finally leaving the house, and Ben muttering complaints about crowds and how he was never doing this again. The two of them went back and forth for a solid minute, typical bro small-talk that stretched longer than necessary.
Meanwhile, Jeff wasn’t about to let you slip away so easily.
Before you could fully step back, he pulled you into a cocky little side hug, one strong arm wrapping around your waist and tugging you against his side. He leaned in close, lips brushing your ear as he spoke low enough for only you to hear.
“If you wanna show your gratitude for me saving your ass tonight,” he murmured, voice raspy and smug, “you should give me your number.”
He didn’t wait for a proper answer. Jeff shoved his phone - screen badly cracked in multiple places - straight into your hands, that lazy, predatory smirk firmly in place as he watched you.
You looked down at the phone, then up at him, narrowing your eyes in playful thought. “You really don’t waste any time, do you?” you teased, arching an eyebrow.
Jeff just shrugged, still holding you loosely in the side hug. “What can I say, life's short.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. After a moment’s hesitation, you typed your number in and saved the contact under harley (who has an armed boyfriend). You handed the phone back to him with a pointed look.
Jeff read the contact name and let out a low, raspy chuckle, clearly amused. “Cute. Real cute.”
You gave him a small, warning smile. “Don’t text me.”
Jeff played along perfectly, raising both hands in mock innocence as he pocketed the phone. “Oh don’t worry,” he drawled, smirking wider, “wasn’t planning on it.”
You shook your head, laughing softly despite yourself.
Jeff finally released you from the side hug, giving your waist one last light squeeze before stepping back. He clapped hands with Andy in a quick goodbye, then slung an arm around Ben’s shoulders, already teasing him again about “surviving the night” as the two of them started walking off down the sidewalk.
You and Andy stood there for a second, watching them disappear around the corner. Then you both looked at each other and burst out laughing at the same time.
“Damn… that really just happened,” you said, still giggling as you leaned against the wall.
Andy shook his head, grinning. “I can’t believe Ben actually came out. And Jeff being Jeff, of course.”
You jokingly shoved his shoulder. “This is your fault, by the way. Why would you invite Jeff to your set? He’s so persistent, oh my God.”
Andy laughed harder, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, he pays well and he’s entertaining. I didn’t think he’d zero in on you that hard. My bad.”
You rolled your eyes, still smiling. The high made everything feel warm and funny instead of stressful.
“C’mon,” Andy said, throwing his arm around your shoulders again. “Let me buy you another drink.”
You nodded and the two of you headed back inside, pushing through the heavy door and down the red-painted stairs. The heat and bass hit you all over again, but this time it felt comforting having Andy beside you.
He kept his arm loosely around your shoulders as he guided you through the crowd toward the bar. He ordered a strong mixed drink for you and nothing for himself. When the bartender slid the glass across the counter, you raised an eyebrow at Andy.
“You’re not having one?”
“Nah,” he said, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “Staying sober tonight. I’m on the clock, plus I drove here. Somebody’s gotta get your ass home safe.”
You hummed in appreciation and took the drink from the bartender, thanking him quietly before taking a sip. The sweetness mixed with the burn felt good. You turned back to Andy.
“Cool. You owe me a ride, man, I’m high as fuck right now,” you said with a playful glare, lightly shoving his shoulder. “Which is your fault, by the way. That pill was no joke.”
Andy grinned wide, not even pretending to feel guilty. “I knew you needed to relax and have a good time. You’ve been stressed lately. Admit it, you’re feeling better, right?”
You laughed, the sound bright and a little hazy, and nodded. “Yeah… okay, fine. I am.”
You sipped your drink while leaning against the bar, the alcohol and pill blending into a warm, floaty euphoria. The music thumped through your body as you swayed lightly in place. Andy stayed close, chatting with you between tracks, but people kept coming up to him - some clients slipping him cash or quick words, others just friends hyping him up about the set.
You didn’t mind. You drifted a little away from the bar and danced on your own again, moving to the heavy beat. Your black skirt swished around your thighs, glitter sparkling across your chest every time the lights hit you.
A couple of girls from earlier even found you again on the dance floor and pulled you back into their group for a bit, all of you laughing and dancing together in that loose, drunk way. You let yourself enjoy it fully - no overthinking, no guilt about Toby for these few minutes.
Andy eventually rejoined you after his set wrapped up, sweaty and smiling as he bumped your hip with his.
“You good?” he asked, loud enough to be heard over the music.
You nodded, grinning, the world tilting pleasantly around you. “Yeah… I’m good.”
You chatted with Andy for a little while longer, laughing and half-dancing in place as the music continued to thump around you. The high and drinks had you feeling warm and loose, but the exhaustion was starting to creep in. Eventually you leaned into his side and said, “I think I’m ready to head home if that’s cool with you.”
Andy nodded immediately, flashing you that easy, familiar grin. “Of course. Let’s get you home.”
He said quick goodbyes to a few people on the way out - clapping hands with some guys near the stairs, giving a nod and a half-hug to a girl who worked at the club, and shouting a final “good set!” to someone else. Then the two of you pushed through the heavy door and back out into the cool night air.
The parking lot wasn’t far, but the walk felt endless in your current state. You were drunker than you realized. Your heels kept catching on cracks in the pavement, making you stumble every few steps. Your feet were killing you now - sore and aching from hours of dancing. Andy noticed and slowed his pace, letting you lean on him for support as you made your way to his car.
His ride was exactly what you’d expect: an old, beat-up sedan with scratches along the side, a slightly dented bumper, and faded paint. It was messy inside too, but it was so him.
Andy unlocked the passenger door first and held it open for you like a gentleman. You mumbled a thanks and slid into the seat, sighing in relief as you kicked your heels off immediately. The car smelled faintly of weed and fast food, but it felt safe.
He jogged around to the driver’s side, dropped in, and started the engine. The car rumbled to life with a familiar, slightly rough sound. He glanced over at you with a soft smile as he pulled out of the parking lot.
“You good?” he asked, voice gentler now that you were away from the noise.
You nodded, leaning your head back against the seat as the streetlights blurred past the window. “Yeah… thanks for the ride. And for inviting me tonight. I needed it.”
The drive home was quiet and comfortable. Andy kept the music low, some chill playlist humming through the speakers while you stared out at the passing scenery, the high slowly softening into a warm, sleepy buzz. Your mind drifted back to Toby for a moment, but you pushed the thought away. Not tonight.
You were safe, you were with Andy, and you were finally heading home.
Eventually, Andy glanced over at you, keeping one hand on the wheel. His voice was casual, but you could tell he was curious.
“So… why’d you come alone tonight?” he asked. “What happened to bandana boy? I figured he’d tag along.”
You sighed, fingers idly toying with the hem of your short black skirt. The glitter on your top caught the passing lights as you shifted in your seat.
“We… got into a fight earlier today,” you admitted, keeping it short. You didn’t want to go into too much detail, but the alcohol and the lingering high made you more open than usual. “It was about this. He didn’t want me to come. Got really jealous about me hanging out with you and everything.”
Andy nodded slowly, eyes staying on the road. “Shit… that sucks. I get it though. Some guys get weird about that stuff.”
You hummed, staring out the window. It was hard to talk about Toby. You couldn’t exactly tell Andy the full truth - that your boyfriend was a wanted killer who lived with his psycho buddies. You had to carefully pick your words.
“The bandana thing… it’s there for a reason,” you said quietly. “It makes it hard for him to be social. He has some… issues.”
Andy hummed in understanding, glancing at you again. “Like what? Is he ugly or something?” he teased lightly, trying to keep the mood from getting too heavy.
You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “No. Not at all.”
You paused, chewing on your lip as you chose your next words. The alcohol made everything feel a little easier to say.
“He has a pretty big scar on his face,” you said gently. “I don’t even know how he got it. I’ve been trying to be patient and not push him with too many questions, you know? But today I realized… he’s really insecure about it. Like, deeper than I thought.”
Andy stayed quiet for a moment, processing. His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel.
“Damn,” he said eventually. “That’s rough. Sounds like he’s got some shit going on. You okay though? After the fight, I mean.”
You shrugged, still playing with the edge of your skirt. “I don’t know. I was really pissed at him earlier. He said some shitty stuff. But… I still feel bad. I like him a lot, Andy. It’s just complicated.”
Andy was quiet for a moment, eyes on the dark road ahead as he thought about what you’d said. The low music played softly in the background while the car hummed along the familiar route back to your house.
“Toby’s lucky to have someone like you, you know,” he said finally, his voice careful and sincere. “For real. It can be a little hard sometimes for guys to be with someone who’s as open and friendly as you are. Especially if they’ve got their own shit going on.”
He chose his words thoughtfully, not wanting to overstep, but the message landed. It gave you a small, reluctant glimpse into Toby’s perspective - the insecurity, the fear of not being enough. You hadn’t really considered how your easy friendship with Andy might look from the outside to someone as damaged and possessive as Toby.
Andy continued, keeping his tone gentle. “You’re probably already doing a great job, but… maybe hype him up a little more. Make him feel appreciated. Chosen. Some guys need that extra push in the right direction, even if they act like they don’t.”
You nodded slowly, staring down at your hands in your lap. “Yeah… I’ll try. Thanks, Andy. For listening, I mean.”
“No problem,” he said with a small smile, glancing over at you. “You deserve to have a good time without drama. But I get it, relationships are messy.”
The rest of the ride passed in comfortable silence. Before long, Andy turned into your driveway and put the car in park. He looked over at you with a playful grin.
“Alright, here we are. Door-to-door service, ma’am.”
You laughed softly and unbuckled your seatbelt. “Thank you for the ride. Seriously. And for tonight. I had fun, even with everything.”
You leaned over and gave him a warm, grateful hug. He hugged you back tightly for a second, patting your back.
“Anytime. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you smiled, pulling away. “See you tomorrow.”
You stepped out of the car, barefoot now with your heels dangling from your fingers. The cool night air felt nice against your flushed skin. You waved as Andy backed out of the driveway, his headlights sweeping across your house before he drove off down the quiet street.
You stood there for a moment in your driveway, watching his taillights disappear. The house looked dark and quiet. The high was starting to fade into a heavy, sleepy buzz, and the events of the day - the fight with Toby, the club, Jeff saving you, Andy’s advice - all swirled together in your mind.
With a tired sigh, you walked up to your front door, keys in hand, ready to finally go inside and crash.
You walked up the path to your front door, heels dangling from your fingers, steps a little unsteady.
Then your heart nearly stopped.
The door was slightly open.
Just a crack - barely noticeable, but enough. You knew you had locked it. You’d double-checked the deadbolt before leaving. You always did.
A bucket of ice-cold panic slammed into you, cutting through the alcohol and the fading high like a knife. Your stomach dropped. Your hands started shaking as you stood frozen on your porch, staring at that small gap of darkness inside your house.
What the fuck…?
You thought about calling the police. Your phone was already in your hand. But then another thought hit you - What if it’s Toby?
You swallowed hard, breath shallow. Part of you hoped it was him. Another, smarter part was terrified that it was.
Taking a slow, careful breath, you stepped forward and gently pushed the door open the rest of the way. The hinges creaked softly. You slipped inside, leaving the door ajar behind you just in case.
The house was dark and quiet. Too quiet.
You took a few silent steps forward, heart hammering against your ribs, and peered around the corner into the living room.
There he was.
Toby sat on your couch, hunched forward with his elbows on his knees. His messy brown hair was even more disheveled than usual, his dark eyes staring at nothing in particular. The twin hatchets rested on the coffee table in front of him, catching what little moonlight came through the window. He looked… unsettling. Like a predator waiting patiently in the dark.
The second his gaze lifted and landed on you, the air in the room grew heavier.
“You actually went,” he said, voice low and cold. No stammer this time. Just flat disappointment and something sharper underneath. “Even after I told you not to.”
Your stomach twisted. The lingering warmth from the club evaporated completely. You stood there in your glittery top and short black skirt, suddenly feeling exposed and ridiculous under his stare.
Toby’s neck twitched sharply to the side with a quiet crack. His dark eyes slowly dragged over you - taking in your messy hair, the smudged makeup, the way you still smelled faintly like smoke, alcohol, and the club.
CW: suggestive, GN!reader, Jeff and reader being mutually toxic as usual
synopsis: sending the creeps nudes and then pretending it didn’t happen
req by: anon
a/n: you would not BELIEVE how many times i tried to post this. sorry if this post is ugly but i literally lost all energy to try to make it pretty since every time i tried to post it it would delete all my progress on it.
𝗡𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴: lıllılı.ıllı.ılı Jack Nyras x F!Reader ıılıı.lllııılı.
"Haunted - Beyoncé ⋅" ★
𝟶𝟷:𝟻𝟷 ━━━━━━●─── 𝟶𝟹:𝟶𝟹 ⇆ ◁ ❚❚ ▷ ↻
W/C: 10.6k // Summary: Your mother had always warned you to be careful with who you trust- for if you weren’t, the devil would eat you out of house and home. Getting used to your new life was easy, until a man born half shadow starts to visit your door. And with no one to turn to, you realized that maybe you should have listened.
Tags: P in V, cunnilingus, slight dub-con, breeding, monster fucking, light fear-play, the dove is mildly concussed, predator-prey dynamics, water sports if you squint, dry humping, throat fucking, knotting, marking and biting, cannibalistic tendencies (obvi :p), and talking reader through it.
A/N: This is the most freak nasty thing I’ve ever written. She is fat. And she is FILTHY. Jack is actually prehistoric and is fluent in at least 8 languages !! (He calls reader like 2 latin nicknames bc I thought they were fitting ^.^ mellilla: little honey and mi ocelle: my little eye. Like, that’s so him me thinks…)
I’m really proud of this one so I hope you guys like it T-T ALSO title idea from a blurb @horny-marbles wrote that I obsessed over and @rainrot4me ILY. The name little lamb fits Jack so well I’m crying. (I’ve stolen it.) OKAY HAPPY READING ^3^ !!
➽──────────────❥
You moved in exactly a year ago.
New town, new you, or something like that. A house on the edge of nowhere, tucked into the treeline. When you’d initially bought it, shaking hands to seal the deal, nothing was out of the ordinary. The conversation itself was mundane, but there was a tension in the realtor's shoulders that made you uneasy. His eyes were constantly darting to the windows in every room, always glancing at something just out of sight. It was odd how he seemed so ready to bolt, like there was a threat he couldn’t tell you about, a hushed secret that outsiders weren’t supposed to know.
You had brushed it off, even when his palm trembled in yours far more than professional jitters allowed. Ignored it when his obvious apprehension built sky high as dusk started to set. This was a good deal, rare and reasonably priced on the market compared to the others. So you packed your bags and settled in, the memory of the troubled salesman long forgotten.
Until that night.
A week in, and you were decently satisfied. Arranging the built-in fire pit for some well-needed rest, when you’d heard it. A rustle of leaves along the borders. Your backyard stretched acres, the fields were vast, your home was isolated from neighbours, and the closest thing you had to civilization was a gas stop on the highway.
You weren’t superstitious by any means; logic came first. It was probably just a fox, attracted to the bright lights of your porch, not some ghastly ghoul that’d come to eat you, right? Shaking your head to rid the thoughts, you resumed your task. Your decor was homey, miscellaneous camping chairs you’d bought on a whim, all circling the bonfire you’d painstakingly started on your own. Armed with a pack of marshmallows and graham crackers, you sighed. Popping the fluffy treats on a cleaned stick and kicking your feet up.
The hearth looked borderline ancient, with scuffed brick and unused for at least a decade; it still worked like a charm, though. Enjoying the warmth, you should have been relaxed, the atmosphere serene, moon hanging bright over the clouds. The breeze was cool enough for a light sweater, comfortably chilled to perfection. There was just this feeling that wouldn’t leave you fully, the heaviness of being watched.
Overactive imagination had haunted you since childhood; that’s all it was, naive anxiety over things that didn’t exist. Yet the feeling of eyes on you only grew.
You had eaten through a quarter of the bag by now, distracting yourself with the sugary snacks barely worked, and the once peaceful evening had developed an edge. This was stupid; you were not going to ruin your long weekend because the person who sold you the home had anxiety. The rumours hadn’t helped much either; your trips to town were eventful, the people kind and considerate. It was whispers that made you pause, the look of shock, when you told them about your residence.
Patting your shoulder as if they pitied you, gaze drifting to the multitude of missing posters stapled on almost every corner. The words ‘how unfortunate’ were never spoken; you felt it anyway. The nonsensical worries flooded your mind, and you decided you were going to silence them once and for all. What’s the harm in checking? You were going to do a quick sweep along the perimeter, something to ease the tension.
You’d gone back inside and grabbed a flashlight, the metal snug in your hold. Feeling confident as you walked. This was just because the house was new, being unaccustomed to your surroundings, had you a little off-colour, that’s all. The beam swayed back and forth, searching between branches and shrubbery, but nothing. You were about to head back, ready to tell your friends the next day about your little adventure, when you caught it.
A figure, just stray of the spotlight. The shape of a hand, the rest completely swallowed by darkness. It didn’t even register at first; you were frozen, not screaming or sprinting, simply standing in place. Nearly unbothered, you slowly tilted the torch up, from his arm to his chest, your head angled back. His form never seemed to end, reaching to the leaves, you don’t know how you’d missed him before. Broad in an inhuman way, you had to step back to fully capture him in light, neck hurting from the strain.
The sight hits you full force when you see his face.
A dark blue mask, eyes barren with empty voids in exchange, he looked a part of the shadows themselves. Towering over you, only a few feet away. Cold sweat wracked your body. Donning a black sweater, sleeves rolled up to the elbow, you realized why his hand had confused you. His skin was grey. A muted charcoal, claws in place of dull nails. Stygian and blade-like at his fingertips, you were going to die tonight. It wasn’t even his appearance; it was how he carried himself.
The air around him reeked of death, making every instinct preinstalled in your blood scream danger. Your ancestors’ way of survival. A millennium of defining what it meant to be in the presence of a predator. Palms clammy, you were panicking; therefore, you said the first thing that came to mind.
“Please don’t eat me.”
Squeaked out in a pitiful attempt to be spared. He didn’t move an inch, stillness alienating. You were an anxious rambler; this time was no different. “I have marshmallows if you’re hungry?” Then, just barely, he leaned his head to the side, as if he was studying you. You continued anyway. It was a very, very dumb thought, but maybe he was friendly?
“You’re uh… super tall. That’s cool, you live around here, or you just prowl the trees for fun?” Awkward and sweaty, you laughed at your own joke. And despite being terrified, you did your best to crack a grin at him. He remained silent. Shifting from foot to foot, you stared at him, and he stared back. His eyes, or lack thereof, were boring into you, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Coughing into your fist once, you cleared your throat, “I just moved in, so, neighbours, am I right?” Shrugging, you chuckled.
He didn’t. “I think I’m gonna turn in, long day and all that. I’ll.. see you around, probably?” Cautiously backing up, you inched towards the house, facing him the entire way. By the time your heel made contact with the porch, he was still here, unmoving as ever. Now, a faint silhouette in the distance, you waved and shouted goodnight.
You didn’t sleep a wink.
➽──────────────❥
You truly, in honest to god truth, have no idea how you ended up here.
After your encounter, you began gaslighting yourself into thinking it was a fever dream. That plan immediately went down the drain when he started showing up. Frequently. At first, you’d been jumpy to say the least, stiff while you had your one-sided conversations. He’d show up at the threshold at random times during the week, always silent and as rigid as the day you’d met him. You didn’t know why he kept coming back, or why you’d light your bonfire and wait, you just did. Justified by the fact that if he wanted to hurt you, he would have already.
Over time, his attendance became less scary and more routine. You could rant, spew every living thought you had, and he’d just stand there. You weren’t even sure if he was paying attention; it was simply nice to get things off your chest. Then, he’d stopped looming in the evergreen, choosing to sit quietly on a stump a couple of steps behind your chair.
It was kind of charming the way he’d scrunch himself up to fit, the make-shift stool far too small. His hands folded neatly in his lap as he listened. The question of who he was and why he was forefront of your mind, he definitely wasn’t a run-of-the-mill man from what you could tell. Aside from the ashen skin and claws, you’d catch glimpses of pointed ears when he’d shift. Hidden under his hood, highlighted by the fire when the wind was in your favour.
You’d asked before, but you never really expected a response to be fair. Odd fashion choices, you supposed, but who were you to judge? You’d talk about unceremonious things, a show you’d started, a new recipe you tried, and he’d stay no matter how boring. You spoke to him the way you would a stuffed toy, not quite addressing him, more just filling the air. However, after another night in his mysterious company, it clicked. He was lonely. An answer so obvious that you were disappointed in yourself. The discussion wasn’t special or different than the others prior; the pieces just fused.
You couldn’t guess what he got up to in the daytime, but you thought you were well within your rights to assume he didn’t get out much.
The understanding changed your view of him entirely. And with that, the way you interacted did too. Your fear mellowing out into fondness, your talks stretching longer and longer. Finding comfort with him near, and whether you knew it or not, you were breaking him down. The walls he’d spent years building, soaring and impenetrable, were starting to chip. Jack kept his distance for good reason; he knew what he was. The thing parents would tell stories about to keep their young in bed, the shadow in the closet that you’d have nightmares of.
He was an abomination, born of violence and greed, sacrificed for the promise of grandeur. The ritual forsaking, binding him to walk the earth in chains. Imprisoned by the very hunger that had damned him. The appetite for blood. The need to take, stealing from the innocent, to feed. He had lived more lives than he could count, each more punishing than the last.
He hunted on autopilot, getting it over with and gorging himself full. It made him feel disgusted; most days, he’s numb, and on others, he screams until his throat is raw. An outsider in his own home, his peers wary at best, but he sees the way they judge. As if their hands are not as tainted as his, they talk amongst themselves, sharing meals and inside jokes, and he watches.
Their companionship refuses to extend. When passing around chips or confectionery, he’s skipped. Never considered, like the nourishment will be dirtied if he touches it. The worst part is, he can’t blame them. He doubts they’re aware he can even digest anything other than flesh; how could they? When he returns, emanating finality, when he walks past with crimson dripping from beneath his mask. He hates it, being the boogeyman, even amid monsters.
That’s why you were so interesting. He could smell the fear on you, yet you laughed at him. Told him he was tall, and that it was cool. The normalcy of it stunned him, made him return. To watch as he always did, but you started talking to him. Cautious at first, then your scent warped into something sweeter, warmer.
He searched everything for hints of distress, your body language, your tone, your eyes, to the way you sat- and nothing. You trusted him.
He thought you were strange.
You thought he was sad.
So, that night you’d brought him a snack. His hands were always empty while you munched on whatever treat you had. It made you feel a little guilty; perhaps he never talked because he was shy, and you were literally stuffing your face in front of him. Waking up early to prepare, you spent the afternoon baking away. If you were going to offer him food, you were going to do it right.
Packing a basket with the pastries, you descended the foyer, already spotting his emerging figure from the trees. However, instead of facing your seat to the fire, you’d swivelled around. This was new; the basket in your arms was also new. He tilted his head to the side. Just what were you planning? For the first time since you’d met him, he seemed genuinely shocked. Leaning back like a skittish animal as you placed the goods in his lap, he tensed. A couple of seconds passed, and you began to second-guess every decision you’ve made up to this point. Was it offensive? Maybe he was allergic? An uncomfortable pause wedged between you, before he broke the silence.
“You don’t fear me.”
A statement. His voice was deep, baritone rumbling low in his chest. The base of it was so guttural you felt it more than you heard it. Peering up, his gaze meets yours, “Why?” The question was asked softly, for someone who appeared so commanding, he spoke fairly quietly. The contrast was jarring, yet it endeared him to you even more. “Well, I don’t know, I thought you looked lonely.” The last syllable left your mouth as he stood. How curious, a human, capable of understanding how he felt.
His frame overtaking you, neck craned up, “I just think you’re neat, I suppose.” Nodding, your eyes flicked to the basket that had slipped onto the grass. “I baked, if you were hungry.” You were a timid little thing, clueless and naive. A fawn ensnared in the claws of a beast you’d willingly thrown yourself at. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had looked at him without disdain, and you were so open. Defenceless, almost like a pet, it wasn’t your weakness that made his mouth water. It was your trust.
It stirred something in him, a part he’d assumed died long ago. Want. His desire, animalistic and starved, simmered under his skin. Ever-present and ready to snap. You could see it for just a moment, his muscles contracting as if he’s prepared to pounce- before it’s smothered. The heat freezing over, shame taking its place. Guilt and mortification surge through his body in waves. You’d offered him your efforts in good faith, and his appetite had increased for a completely different reason. It was humiliating to have the lack of control he possessed.
Your words had seemed to take his breath away for the worst. Somehow even more rigid than earlier, this was not the effect you wanted. Backtracking, you sputtered, “I’m sorry if I overstepped- it’s just I always have something when you visit and I realized I’d never offered before-“ A clicking resounded from his throat, eyes (voids) vacant. You fidgeted in place, “You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to, it’s cinnamon rolls I made today. I think they’re pretty good- ah, I should have asked if you’re allergic.”
The explanation is clumsy, though your earnestness fascinated him, so desperate to make him feel at ease as if you had any power here. Caring so much about his comfort that you’d spent your precious time baking for him. Mortal lifespans were terribly short in comparison to his decades of existence, and you had chosen to waste your constantly whittling human seconds just to not- what? Hurt his feelings? An ever-draining hourglass, each granule of sand adding to the growing mass, counting down to your end. An act so seemingly meaningless to you held a world of weight to him.
A sacrifice. Scarlet dripping down your arms as you proposed it at his decaying shrine, clueless to the fact that this was what had sealed your fate. The moment he’d decided for the first time to keep something for himself. If the devil dealt in blood, this must be his payment for the carnage he’d spilled. His paid bounty finally surfacing, a gift in exchange for all the destruction he’d raged. Wrapped in silk ribbon, his naive rabbit to keep.
You’d spent the rest of the evening as you usually did, except for his newly added dialogue. He still wasn’t much of a talker, but he’d tell you things. Actually answering your questions instead of leaving them to fade into obscurity.
He told you his name was Jack, that he lived far into the woods away from the lights, told you he didn’t like the noise. Said that it was better to wear a mask, not expanding further when you prodded. You had learned that he had some sort of enhanced hearing, scent and senses alike, you also assumed he was blind, though you thought it’d be rude to ask, settling on his hobbies instead.
He was smart, that’s for one. Jack’s knowledge of the medical field was no joke; he knew about intricacies you hadn’t even heard of, and that he liked order and schedule. Organization, spending his time memorizing the way the trees moved, mapping out the forest trails and the wildlife that inhabited them. It was admirable how much he noticed about such tiny details, picturing his lumbering form silently staring at squirrels while he walked past made you giggle.
His responses drifted from vague to elaborate; it felt like you’d both known him your entire life and only met him today at once. Nonetheless, a routine had formed. And so had your solace in him, an unlikely companion was a companion all the same.
Or so you thought.
➽──────────────❥
The anxiety of the house’s surroundings became a far-off memory.
Rarely crossing your mind, you worked, you rested, and in between, you had a friend to keep you company. Yet, the word friend was becoming more denial than fact by the day. Your initial impression of Jack was fear-inducing, clouded by distrust and adrenaline, then it was baseline acceptance, and currently it rests at humbling and embarrassing attraction. The traits that had you recoiling in shock now had you doing a double take, not in disgust or terror, but in longing.
His outfits remained more or less the same; it wasn’t new clothes or anything of the sort that drew you in, it was the minute attributes that slowly caught your attention as your perception of him altered.
First, his height. It had stunned you the night you’d run into him; presently, you had to take a breath every time he ducked under a doorway not to say something obscene. Towering in all his might, the worn-down fabric stretched across his chest, struggling to contain his brawn with each step he took. And he was broad, shoulders stacked with high-strung muscle, built for pressure and gruelling labours you couldn’t name.
The same claws that had frightened you made you want to douse yourself in ice water; you think your entire head could fit in his palm. Faint scars littering his forearms, you’d watched as the veins in his hand bulged when he helped you move a table. Lifting the heavy oak with an arm, not a single grunt, either, it was effortless. One time, you were so entranced in your daydream about what it’d feel like if he’d just pick you up and squeezed—
He had to have called your name at least three times to snap you out of it.
The worst offender? His voice. Like the purr of an engine every time he spoke, smooth and low. As deep as bourbon. He didn’t speak much, and when he did, it reminded you of distant thunder. Resonate in the way it commanded, never failing to make you shiver. You thanked your lucky stars he couldn’t see, saving you the humiliation of being caught glancing at him excessively, or the way you pouted with want when he’d move a certain way, his hoodie rising just above his belt.
Your face growing hot, eyes averting his face when he’d lean down to listen. The way you’d squeeze your thighs together when he’d hum by your ear in agreement. He was your friend, so when you’d mention you needed something fixed around your home, he’d do it without question.
The shameful part came when he would grab the tools, and you’d tell him you were going to read. The lie was always said confidently. You were most definitely not going to read or spend any time in your room, trailing behind him as quietly as you could, peaking from the corner while he worked. It was terrible, and you knew it; the guy couldn’t see, and you were using that to your advantage like a pervert. He would kneel by your sink or wherever and tinker about, with your figure tucked by the room’s edge.
He navigated your space with ease, most likely due to his intensified awareness, you presumed. You tended to forget he didn’t possess the same sight you did, rushing up to him, picture in hand to show him a stupid doodle you’d made, to be met with nothing. A slight head tilt and silence, freezing for a brief moment before you start prefusely apologizing. Jack’s response was the same every time. Bringing up a loose fist, his knuckles brushing your nose bridge, before tapping your forehead twice with his thumb. A way of teasing you, his version of vocalizing he took no offence.
His face is hidden by the mask, but you swear he’s grinning at least a little behind it. You imagine the quirk of his lips, the way his cheeks pull up just a tad, you think his smile would be nice. You also think it’s an absolute crime that no one has hit on him before, appalling, actually.
Selfishly, you’re grateful, though that doesn’t make the information any less shocking. You’d brought it up in passing if he was seeing anyone, and he’d turned to you with such visible confusion you’d laughed. In theory, it made sense; in practice, it did not. Like have you seen him?
Over seven-feet-something of straight man, hulking yet gentle, and aside from his vaguely questionable hobbies— he was nearly perfect boyfriend material. Gentlemanly, where he didn’t even try, the type to cup the corner of tables when you’d bend to pick up a dropped mug. Closing cabinets so you wouldn’t hit your head in the bustle, and grabbing your bags before you could even decide if you needed help or not.
Jack was thoughtful, far more considerate than you think people gave him credit for. And perhaps if you told your peers you were in love with some lone-wolf forest dweller who lacked eyes, they’d judge you, but that’d only be because they hadn’t met him. You guaranteed that if he had a night on the town, he’d have suitors lining the block. You told him that. Making a joke about it when he was staring at you like you were crazy for insinuating he, the literal embodiment of the silent type trope people dreamed about, was taken. He had shaken his head, pinching your cheek softly, then returning to his task.
Patient, tall and humble. And he almost one-hundred-percent did not see you like that. This must be hell.
➽──────────────❥
Jack was not blind.
As a matter of fact, he had better sight than anyone else on the planet.
Demon biology and science were tricky; he didn’t have physical eyes, sure. However, he could see just fine, analyze moving creatures even miles away if he wanted; his “view” of things worked vastly differently from the average person’s. The first time you’d stumbled and apologized, he had half the heart to correct you, until you blushed.
He could feel it, the blood rushing to your cheeks, then you mumbled out some shy excuse about your bad memory. Twisting your thumbs together, pupils dilated as you blinked up at him. It was adorable. He knew it was probably bad and very misguided to lie to you like this; he simply couldn’t help himself. You and your puppy-like curiosity, so excited to show him the most mundane things, because you thought he’d like it. A cool rock you had, or a funky colored sticky note you’d found, as if your eagerness would overwrite your previous knowledge of him.
It was awfully indulgent on his behalf, yet he didn’t have it in him to cease. Especially when you started following him around, nearly tripping over yourself in an attempt to be discreet. It became a game, pretending he didn’t see you, ignoring your inaudible giggles behind your hand when he’d move something heavy for you. Acting like he hadn’t noticed you peering from the hallway, mouth pressed into a thin line in fear of being caught while he was repairing a rickety chair leg. He was well aware he was playing with fire; you didn’t even know who he was, what he did, let alone what he was.
But was it truly so wrong to preserve this one thing?
All he did was serve under orders; his dictator left him alone most times, but that didn’t mean he was free to do as he pleased. Patching up wounds day and night, drowned in violence at hours on end. Saving the lives of people who would leave him to bleed if they got the chance, not even in feeding did he have reprieve. An act so impossibly human warped into something despicable by most standards.
He was deluded at this point because, somehow, a part of him believed you’d stay. Stay when you inevitably find out, stay when he’d confess to you his wrath, stand by his side when he’d return to you, soaked in gore and carnage. You had to, wouldn’t you? He’d shown up in the middle of the night, looking like death itself, and you’d grinned at him had you not? He’d returned time after time, as mysterious as the last, and you’d welcomed him, had you not? Giddy when in his presence, your joy seeps into his bones, and he can smell you. Smell your craving. Your lust. The scent is sickly sweet, thick molasses that coats the walls. Borderline taste the heat that coiled between your plush thighs.
Your want comes in waves, knocking the air out of his lungs, the second it hits his nostrils. And it was getting harder and harder to ignore, spit collecting under his tongue as you bluff. Sitting in front of him, pretending your core wasn’t slick with need, all because he was close to you. A lamb to the slaughter, presented on a silver fucking platter. The control on his own desires waned every time you pushed too close, leaned in too far.
He was growing restless, the energy making his body taut. He started hunting more, feasting with abandon, tunnel vision stuck on his memory of you. Winter was approaching fast, and he needed more meat to keep him satiated than normal, primal instincts taking hold. Jack’s hunger was blistering; he wanted to devour you whole.
And he was sure you’d thank him with a smile on your face.
➽──────────────❥
There had been a shift in the air recently.
The forest around your residence had turned quiet. Originally, you’d assumed it was the weather that had driven the birds away, but this seemed… different, strange in a way. The silence felt unnatural, like the wildlife was hiding from something. Chased away by an invisible threat, the once lively trees had fallen still. It left a strange ache you couldn’t quite place. As for Jack, he’d been weird lately, too.
The last time you saw him, his shoulders were tense, and he barely answered any of your questions. It didn’t feel like he was irritated or annoyed, just distant; as if his mind were elsewhere. Responding to everything you said with grunts or stiff nods, his body jerking faintly once and a while, resembling a predator holding itself back.
He’d abruptly stood up when you were reading on the couch, arriving only a few hours earlier before suddenly storming out. That was weeks ago. You were worried, staying up on random nights just in case he’d stopped by and no one was there to open the door. He did have the spare key you’d given him; you just wanted to see him the second he returned. Wracking your brain for anything you could’ve done to set him off, yet you can’t remember a single time in the past month he had even disagreed with you. He was fine, nothing was standing out, leaving you to stew in your own confusion and fret. Your concern was solely focused on him—
Until you started noticing the blood.
Stark against the fresh snow, the faded red streaks weave between the timber. Specks spread across the yard; you had tried to rationalize it, you lived in the woods for god’s sake, just because it was a little quieter than usual didn’t mean the animals stopped existing, stopped hunting. It didn’t mean the rumours were true.
Then, you noticed the claw marks. Dug into the bark, stretching across the trunks and dragging into the frozen soil. They were ragged, angry, left by something starved. The scores were sizable; whatever creature that had done them had to have been massive, some too high up to be from a bear. You weren’t close to the hillside either, mountain lions out of the question, and even if you were, what kind of feral cat leaves scratches like that?
None of it was making sense; the lacerations didn’t look sporadic either. Your property had been marked. Ice filled your veins as you stared; you hadn’t even realized how much time had passed.
The sun was long gone, dusk setting heavy over the treeline. A gnawing dread had begun creeping in; you were terrified. If it were on paper, perhaps you could have brushed it off, chalked it up to nerves. You’ve dealt with strays before; this was another variant entirely. A finality in the air that wouldn’t shake. Along with your worry for Jack, you selfishly wished he were here to protect you. His unyielding nature, always reliable, sturdy and safe. He appeared to be able to keep a cool head about almost anything. He’d know what to do, where to go, what to say to stop the tremble in your hands.
You were close to tears when you spotted it, cold sweat lining your back. A flicker amongst the trees. Moving far too fast to be human or animal, the shadow ripped its way through the shrubbery. Breaths picking up, you darted behind your sofa. You knew it was a bad hiding place, but something in the way it advanced told you shelter was pointless. Pulling your knees to your chest, you clamped a palm over your mouth to muffle the petrified sob. A growl echoes out; the sound is guttural, reverberating through the walls, shaking the glass windows as the wind wails.
Eyes shutting tight, you curled into yourself. Of course, this would happen when he was away. At this moment, you would’ve given anything to bring Jack back to you; he’d know how to fix it, he always did. When you’d panic over something stupid, he would soothe you in a way only he could. But Jack wasn’t here, and you were alone. Scared out of your mind with a hell bound beast encroaching on your home, you didn’t want to die.
The fear was unlike anything you had ever felt, chilling you from the inside out. It spread like a parasite, aching in your lungs with every breath, twisting your stomach to nausea. You hiccuped, hugging your legs close. You didn’t want to die- this wasn’t fair, and if something happened to you, what would happen to him? Your dearest friend, more loved than he’d ever know, and you’d never even gotten the chance to tell him. The porch creaked loudly, heavy steps thudding against the frosted wood; you wanted to scream.
The door swings open, breeze screeching in the background. The cold is rushing in, draft circling the room, and the lock clicks shut. Apparently, this beast had manners. Heartbeat deafening in your ears, then you hear it. The tell-tale shuffling of boots, Jack. Shooting up, you spun around, already stepping past the couch. Relief flooding your body, lips twitching up, you wanted to laugh— tell him about how scared of the storm you got without him.
He’ll probably think you’re ridiculous, shake his head a tad and ruffle your hair. Scold you softly, say you’ve been watching too many movies, reading too many books, with a reasonable explanation on the tip of his tongue. Rounding the corner, the words died in your throat. The tempest had cut your power, but even from where you stood, you could tell something was horribly wrong.
The darkness of the hallway enveloped him. He stood off-center, shoulders hunched, his hands limp by his sides, twitching every couple of seconds. It was too dim to see clearly, yet you caught it anyway. A thick, viscous liquid, dripping from under his mask, now that you had noticed it, you realized he was drenched in it. The scent reaches your nose a beat after, metallic.
“… Jack?”
Muttered weakly. His head tilted down, like he was observing you. You knew it was him, so why were you so uneasy? His foot dragged an inch forward, your legs reacting before your mind, subconsciously taking a step back. He notices, he always does. When you were anxious, when you were hungry, because you forgot to eat breakfast, when you were scared.
The notion hurts him; your fear felt violating and wrong in his body. The pained howl he lets out has every hair on the back of your neck standing on end. Sharply pitched, inhuman as he continues to stalk closer. You shuffle away further, retreating, and it upsets him. You looked so terribly fragile, meek, with tears still clinging beneath your lashes. He needed to warm you, to keep you safe, it was blizzarding outside after all, and he knew how anxious you got during blackouts. His mask took a hit during the hunt, and his hood had been knocked off somewhere along the way. The buckle too withered to hold up the weight, finally snapping, mask slipping off and clattering to the floor. You barely register the sight before he crosses the hall in three strides.
His face. Gaping sockets where his eyes should be, filled with black tar that smeared his skin. He says your name, or a version of it anyway. Voice warbling deeper than you thought possible, cadence unsteady. Reaching out for you, his clawed hand brushes your cheek, catching a tear that falls when you blink.
“Little lamb.”
It barely sounded like him, and all you can do is stare. His mouth opens, tongues sliding out to wet his lips. Wait, tongues..?
Your eyes widen as they swiped along the edge of his teeth. Pointed and sharpened, like they could bite through bone. He presses his forehead to yours, arms caging you in. Your hands instinctively pressed against his chest, clutching the damp fabric. You trust him, yet your gut is screaming for you to run, the inner battle making you shake in his embrace. Brows furrowing, why wasn’t this working?
Shivering meant you were cold; it meant you were vulnerable. The scent of your distress sets off alarm bells in his head; his urge to consume and preserve you clashing. A gravelly and repetitive clicking resonated from his throat, overlapping his speech, “Cold. Why do you tremble so, mi ocelle?” The concern emitted from him in ripples, apprehension so heavy it felt as if you were suffocating. “I- I was just worried about you, it’s… storming out.”
You didn’t know what to say; the events playing out were something you’d never learnt to plan for. What were you to do when the devil was at your door with a bleeding heart in his hands? Perhaps you were foolish. Naive in ways others would never understand, but if the Morningstar were yours, then it must be in your fates to be burned.
Leaning in, he cooed. “You were worried… for me?” Your timid confession seemed to appease him, nuzzling your face with his. Amusement blooming across his features, he traced up your spine, the edge of his talons fraying cotton. “Prey tell, my dove. What do you fear?” Your mind was racing for an answer, searching for something- anything- that wasn’t him.
Swallowing, you stuttered, “I thought- I thought I saw something in the woods—“ He hummed, like this was fun, like he knew. Reading the barren truth that you could only deny for so long. “It was by the window. I saw it earlier, I swear-“ Cutting you off when he suddenly withdraws. The frost was a harsh contrast, his warmth no longer shared. “Then let’s look together. To ease you.” He glances at you once from over his shoulder, turning as he heads for the living room.
The plush entryway carpet does little to comfort you, following in his steps until stopping in front of the aperture, your stomach in knots. Jack leaned back against the frame, almost leisurely. “Describe it to me, won’t you?” You toed at the rug, ankle bumping the coffee table leg.
“It was tall- and it growled so loudly the house shook.”
His shoulders twitched, stature reaching above the windowsill. His brawn obstructs the moon’s glow, the shadows spilling like ink. As if you were framed by death’s silhouette. Baritone purr rumbling deep behind his ribs.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and it left these gashes on the trees. Blood trails in the snow-“
The muscle in his forearms twisted while he gripped the glass ledge, sable keratin tapping the surface in rhythm. They gleamed under the pale light, dark crimson dripping off the razor edge and splattering up his hands like paint.
“I see.”
“And it sounded hungry, like it wanted to devour me in one bite.”
Tongue dragging along his teeth, nearly drooling. The weight of his eyes left goosebumps in their wake. Sweeping from your pouty cheeks to the flushed curves of your chest. Memorizing your damp skin.
“Starved, I’m sure.”
“It was tearing apart everything in its path, and moving too fast to be an animal- I don’t know- it- it was like a—“
“Monster?”
Your head snapped up. Empty voids boring into you, black oil mixing with red. His complexion, the claws, you couldn’t decide if you were stupid or so desperate for attachment you’d refused to see the signs. It was always there, a whispered thought when the conversation died down, a realization when his hand would jerk at the sight of the news. Now it was too late, the monster was in your home, and he was going to eat you alive. With nowhere to turn, panic seizes you, breath coming in shallow pants. Jack’s face was unreadable, eerily still.
You spin on your heel, sprinting up the stairs. He was standing next to the main hallway entrance; you wouldn’t be able to get past without him grabbing you. You can hear the harsh thud of footsteps from behind, hot on your tail. You know it was futile, yet adrenaline clouded your judgment. Running like hell, as fast as you could, swerving around the staircase railing the second your feet hit the second floor. It didn’t matter if he was going to catch you; you needed to get away. Ducking in through the gap of the bedroom door, you carefully made your way to the ensuite bathroom.
It was over; you just wanted to go on your terms, have some time to think before it ended. Being a human was truly awful, you think. Because in all of this, the part that bothered you the most was how much you enjoyed being held by him. His touch, the way he brushed away your sadness, and now he was coming to slaughter you. How ironic is that? That even now, being hunted, you still wished he were there to comfort you.
Vision blurring, you laughed to yourself. The bathroom didn’t have a lock; you slid down the wall and onto the cool tile. The floorboards creaked beneath his boots, stopping outside the door. The knob turned slowly, and he pushed it open. When you saw him, it made your chest heavy. He looked handsome like this, the moonlight from the window outlining his frame. He was pretty, beastly features or not, they were his, and that was enough. “Can you at least do it fast? I baked you cinnamon rolls, y’know.” Wobbly smile on your lips, you tensed. Bracing for the impact, the numbing pain of a puncture wound, but it never came.
Opening your eyes, you sniffled. Jack had knelt in front of you. Docile, unmoving and rigid as stone. Submission in the way bite-ridden guard dogs revere sheep. “Such a peculiar little thing.” Said softly, hushed and low. Not snarling or pouncing on you like you expected, simply quiet, handling you with care as he always did. Scooting closer, he tucks your frenzied hair behind your ear before resting both hands on your legs. His thumb rubbed in gentle circles against your calf, “You thought I was going to kill you?”
The lightness of his tone makes you blink, like scolding a child for not holding on when they were afraid of the dark. Shedding tears for something so easily fixed. “So sure I was your end, yet your body still calls for me.” He had you pinned, half crawled over you as he spoke, the random jolts that wracked his body worsening by the second. Faces inches apart, you could see the restraint that held him together, the slight shake in his breathing, how his hand flexed, nails digging into the porcelain. “I can smell it, mellilla.” Dipping his head to your neck, he inhales deeply before his teeth break your skin with little effort. You flinch at the feeling, gasping.
You grabbed onto his sweater, eyes watering in confusion. It hurt; the laceration was shallow enough not to be fatal, just deep enough to bleed. His tongues lapped at the mark. You were so sweet. Groaning as he swallows, and you shiver at the sound. His knee was pressed between your thighs, rocking back and forth every time he moved. The pain was slowly melding into gut-churning heat, wires crossing in your head, you whined. Breathing hard, he shifts, hips grinding down.
“You have no idea, do you?-“ The zipper of his jeans nudged against your clit, your thin sleep shorts were riding up, and the pressure had you dripping. “-What you do to me, fuck.” His assault on your throat never faltering, drinking in your nectar. Sinking his canines in deep over your pulse, he needed to feel it. Had to taste your heartbeat or he’d lose his mind. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, and you clung to him as if he were a lifeline, squeaking when he started gulping at your spilling wound. “Sorry- I know. It hurts, doesn’t it?” Muffled against your skin, his apology fell on deaf ears.
Parting from you with a wet pop, strings of blood and saliva stretched from his jaw to your neck. More beast than man as he sat back on his haunches, chest heaving. His lids drooped low, drunk off it, “Look at you, my little rabbit. Ripe enough to eat.” Hooking a finger under your shirt, he yanks it up in one swipe. Claw slicing it cleanly, leaving you bare. It made his mouth water. Caging you again, his mouth clamping around the perky nub. Writhing, your back arched off the floor. Arms secured to your sides by his palms, Jack’s strength was otherworldly. Even through his sweater, the contours of his body were unmistakable.
The ache had you dizzy, cunt throbbing in pulses with each nibble he took, littering your breasts in bruises and cuts. Tongues acting as a salve, easing the sting with gentle licks. Mewling, you pushed up into his mouth. He didn’t touch you like he wanted to fuck, he touched you like he was trying to rapture your soul. Have you reborn, remade, fracture your very cortex until the only thing you remembered was him.
Bodies moving in tandem, driving his hips to a slow, agonizing grind. Simulating sex, the same motions, yet not quite there. Your head was spinning, denim stained where your cores met. “You’d forgive me, wouldn’t you? If I got too hungry, you’d let me have you-“ When you said he was going to kill you, this wasn’t what you had pictured at all. The base of his words had you squeezing down on nothing, crying to be filled. He kisses you softly, to mar you right after. “-Let me lick your bones clean, show everyone my teeth- so they’d know how delicious you were. How divine you satisfied me-“
It was sick, vile, the fantasies he spun, your lust betraying your principle. Lips molding to yours, his tongues violating each centimetre of your mouth. You gagged around the intrusion, slimy and tentacle-like; they swarmed the cavity. Proding deeper, his mouth latched as he fucked your throat. Only pulling back once you were on the verge of passing out, fist rapidly slamming against his side. Your lungs burned, black spotting your vision, fear reaped amore that seeped into the darkest corners of your mind.
His cock throbbed with need, hefty against your cunt, and you could feel each and every pulse. It’d tear you apart, larger than you thought possible; you’d never wanted anything more in your life.
Panting above you, the chuckle that left his lips was manic. “They’d wage war in envy, massacre their own kind- driven to madness that they couldn’t have you.” Laving at your collar bone, the heat in your stomach on the brink of scorching, coiling tight. You’d soaked through the fabric, wetness making it stick to your folds, “Build shrines in your name, frame your ribs in mausoleums just to admire-“ His rutting growing harsh, desperate and feral, “Worship you like religion. Offer gold and jewels- sacrifice their gods at the foot of your tomb.” Your release hits you hard, euphoria choking you. Jack, close behind, cumming with a hollowed groan, the aftershocks making his hips jolt. Unrelenting, when his pace fails to cease, not giving you a chance to recover.
“You’re cruel to me, my lamb-“ Arms cocooning you, he lifted you off the tile, trapping you to him. His words pierce through the fog, “I- I don’t understand.“ Huffing out his nose, he laughs, exasperated. “You think I couldn’t see you? Hiding behind corners, following me around like a needy pup.” The admission floods you with embarrassment, pouting as you try and avoid his gaze. “I thought you were-“ he interrupts you, amused. “Blind? How quaint.”
Mocking and adoring all at once, you were so fun to play with. “It was adorable, you know. Pretending you weren’t there, watching you stumble and apologize.” He leaned in close, mummuring against your ear, “Pretending it didn’t have me starved.”
The cadence sends goosebumps down your back, shoulders bowed while you whine. “Always so kind, hm? Don’t worry, even if my sight did not lead me-“ kissing down your neck, he continues. “-There are plenty of other ways to indulge, are there not?” Leaving hickies in his path, nicking your fevered skin, “Sound.” Teeth grazing, before sinking in, your lips parting in a sharp gasp, “Jack.” Trailing further, slipping his hands from under you, and gripping your hips. Hard. His talons penetrate the fat of your ass, drawing blood. “Touch.” Pain and pleasure laced, and all you could do was lie there and take it.
Crawling down your body, bruises blooming over your abdomen. Mouth dragging over your tummy, your navel and pelvis. He snags the waistband of your shorts with his canines, jerking his head back harshly and shredding them off you. He borderline growls when his eyes land on your pussy. He thinks they should hang paintings of your cunt at the fucking Louvre. Puffy and weeping, beautifully delicate as he runs the pad of his thumb up your slit. “And-“ collecting the syrup, his grin stretched wide, a smirk that had you gushing,
“Taste.”
He dives in, lapping at your aching clit with fervour. It was too much, too fast. Convulsing, your hands shot to his hair, grabbing at the messy locks. Thighs snapping closed, bracketing his head. His tongues were everywhere, nose buried in your mound, wet squelching filling the room. “Oh- ngh- fuck.” You were crying, screaming as if you were being murdered. He uses your waist as leverage, thrusting you into his mouth. The tendrils reached deep, fucking you rough while his nose grinded on your sensitive bud. They scissored you open, devouring you whole, and you felt dizzy. Arching, your heels dug into his back, “S’too much- Jack, please- I can’t.”
He groaned into your heat, your pleas making him rut against the floor. You were shaking something fierce, the pressure building in your gut becoming unbearable. “W-wait, please- please, feels weird-“ His tongues were hitting your spot over and over again, eyes rolling back as your body went taut. The orgasm was cataclysmic. Your cunt pulsed wildly, liquid splurting out. It coated his jaw, spraying across his face; you couldn’t even think. Brain completely emptied and ears full of cotton, Jack still gulping down your spillage. He pulls off of you with a sticky smack, breathing heavy, “Messy girl.” He taunts. Sitting up, he grabs the back of his hood, throwing it off in one swoop.
Shoulders sculpted, sweat beading down the contours of his chest, and you stared shamelessly. Gaze drifting from his flushed and heaving pecs to the divots of his V-line, happy trail peaking over his belt. He tugs at the buckle, the metal clasp falling open with a clink. Popping the zipper, he wrenches his cock free, and the sight made your eyes widen. The head drooled with pre, sitting dense in his hand, it looked like it weighed pounds.
There was no way that thing was fitting inside you. “I don’t know if I can…” Trailing off, hesitance contorting your features. “It’s going to hurt.” Blunt and matter-of-fact, and you knew he wasn’t boasting. Not for ego or otherwise, it was simply a warning. “But you’re strong, I know you are.”
Yanking you by the hips, he settled between your legs, lining himself up. “Remember to breathe, my flower.” Soothing you, as he nudges his cock against your entrance. The tip struggles past the tight ring before sinking in, the stretch making you hiss. Your fists are balled up at your sides, tears immediately gathering at your lashline. Whimpering, it felt like he was ripping you in half. “Shh, I know- doing so well. My brave girl.” He hushes you gently. Gathering your hand in his, he presses your palms flat and intertwines your fingers. “Squeeze when it gets too much.”
Rocking forward, he pushes in an inch, your pained whine bouncing off the walls. “Just focus on my voice, can you do that for me?” Forcing your lids to stay open, you nod, “Okay.” But as his hips buck barely a centimetre, your panicked yelp stops him in his tracks. “It- it hurts- I can’t.”
Hiccuping, you were quivering like a leaf, face scrunched uncomfortably. Cooing low in his throat, he drops his head closer. Tongue collecting the salt on your cheeks, “Poor thing, why don’t we play a game? To distract you.” You sniffled, “A game?” He hums, nose brushing yours. “When I move, you’ll count.” Explaining slowly, he kisses you, reassurance mixing with saliva. “Do you trust me?” The question whispered, sacred against your lips, and your eyes fluttered shut. “Yes.”
With your green light, he begins to thrust, carefully and reverently. Shaft glistening with your slick, he slides deeper. “One.” You sighed, breath fanning across his skin, “That’s it, good girl.” You felt like silk around him; it was intoxicating. His length is dialating your walls, “Two-“ The once prickling twinge had started to dull, melding into a warm simmer amidst your thighs. You clutched his hand firmly, “Ah- three.” Gliding in and out, probing further. He grunts, restraint wearing thin. “Four.” He was hardly halfway, and you swore he was in your lungs. Jack shuddered over you, vein prominent against the lines of his neck, Adam’s apple bobbing.
Jaw slack, his spit dribbling onto your skin, carnal and dangerous. His teeth bared as he let out a strangled keen, “Forgive me, my sweet.” His hips were jerking before you could even comprehend what he’d said. Slamming to the hilt, and you wailed. “Gods, you feel- fuck-“ He panted, head flung back. Tremoring violently while he held you flush. You went limp, the sensations overwhelming you, fully speared on his cock. So impossibly filled, the last of his control had withered to ash.
He fucked into you like an animal. Hard and fast, brows furrowed in ecstasy. Bruising grasp on your waist, using your pussy as a sleeve, he raises you. Bouncing you as if you weighed nothing. One hand tugging at your wrist, the other keeping you steady. “Feels so good- can’t fucking stop.” Your back bowed, helpless. Shockwaves sparked up your spine each time you sank on his cock. Molten iron pounding against your cervix, branding your cunt with his lust. The climax takes you by surprise, whiting out your vision. You clenched on him so hard he could barely move, glands pulsing as he stuffed you.
The sticky lacquer is pumping you full, leaking out and puddling on the bathroom floor. Tongue like lead in your mouth, you slurred, “J-Jack- ngh.” He doesn’t even blink, slipping you off, he flips you. Your arms were jelly, crumbling onto your chest, face pressed to the cold tile. Ass propped by his claws, he slides back inside in an instant. Sanity draining with each second, he couldn’t feel your warmth.
Your body jolted roughly from the power of his thrusts, drilling into you with abandon, frantically chasing his release. His veins had been flooded with magma, broiling him alive. Thumbs kneading at your flesh, spreading you wide, he lets out punched groans when his balls slap against your clit. A milky ring is forming at the base of his shaft, gluey and opaque. Lewd plaps filling your ears, his palm pressed your arch down into a perfect semi-circle, driving deeper and deeper, “Christ- you take it so pretty, my lamb- fucking made for this weren’t you?” You scratched at the foundation, delirious, he was so strong. So big, fucking his authority into you, ruining you for anyone else.
Your eyes crossed- stomach bulging from his girth, you couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, sobbing as drool leaked out of your agape mouth. Jack was mounted on you like a dog.
Lugging you up, manhandling your boneless form, he bends you over the sink counter. Chiselled hips pummeling you from behind, his flexed bicep locked around your throat. The mirror had fogged with condensation, the tap sputtering from the ruthless tempo, and you barely recognized yourself. It was pornographic the way he had you, something you’d see on the front page of an exed out website. And he wasn’t faring any better, dishevelled strands stuck to his forehead with perspiration. Skin dewy, globs of slick and cum dripped down your legs, he sounded gone. Huffing, “Made for me, made to be bred- should I keep you like this?” His pace quickened, close to the edge, “Keep you full, begging for my cock? Chained and desperate- you’d like that, no?”
Your brain failed to form a cohesive thought, high on the pleasure, “Ah- p-please-“ The response fuelled his rut; he needed to sear his print onto your flesh. Stain you like possession, sovereignty over your spirit, heart and womb. Jack snarled, seething, and he yanked your head back. The climate is sweltering, pressure on your airways tightened, “Words, girl.” He was so mean, abusing your poor cunt. “Yes- please, want it. Wan’ it s’bad.” Shrill cry, leaving your lips.
This wasn’t sex; it was ownership.
His release paints your walls lava-hot, stars bursting behind your lids. Before the afterglow has a chance to reach you, he throws you over his shoulder. Kicking the door open with his foot, the hinges screeching loudly, and you dangled almost lifelessly in his hold. Stepping into the room with little ceremony, he tosses you on the mattress, landing with a bounce.
He was gorgeous, the crescent light peeking through the curtains, tongue running along his sharpened canines. Sultry as he crawled between your thighs, up your body, famished. Prowling, eyeing you like sweet prey- he had you under him for hours. It was ritualistic, claiming and methodical; his devotion clung to you in smoke. Whispering scripture against your skin in languages older than the earth itself. Pulling orgasm after orgasm from your yielding body, refusing to stop until you’d forgotten your own name.
You were a mural of depravity, illustrated in fever. Aphrodisiac tinted with Jack as your artisan.
Ankles by your ears, you had lost count of how many times he’d made you scream, the bliss blending, and the only thing that existed was him. All encompassing, and drilling into your oversensitive pussy. “S’too m-much- I can’t.” His chuckle mocked, “Too much? And here I thought you wanted to be mine-“ He was bullying you, cruelly pressing down on your bloated tummy. Weeping tip knocking mercilessly into your soft spot, you flailed against the sheets, twitching and whining pathetically. “Please, I can’t- I can’t-“ babbling, you gushed around his girth, completely drenching his abs. He had fucked you dumb.
Snickering, he snaps his hips forward, pelvis flush and grinding on your puffy clit. “Liar.” And he began jackhammering into you, unrelenting, his weight folding you in half. The headboard slammed against the wall vigorously, pictures tumbling off the nightstand, mattress squeaking every thrust. Its movements were so harsh that they left indents in the plank flooring. His muscles rippling with exertion.
Claw hooked beneath your knee, his free hand reaching up to strike the bedpost with a bang. It splinters under his strength, and you moaned like a whore. “One more- give me one more, my life.” He grunted, panting and burying his face into your shoulder, the linen shredded to bits.
The frame was thrashing, creaking noisily with warning. His cock swelled at the base, the stretch burning as he forces it passed your opening. Knot stuffing you full, filling you to the brim, and you writhed hysterically- digging your nails into his back. Shallow scrapes littered his skin, from his shoulder blades to his tensing arms. “Mmph- oh god, m’cumming- Jack-“ It blazed from your head to your toes, igniting everything in its path, thrumming in your blood. Teeth sunk in your neck, growl vibrating to your lungs, his inflated girth trapping his seed deep.
Mahogany cracking sharply, the wood giving in and collapsing. The bed was slanted, haphazardly held up by one leg. And Jack is already licking the wound clean, kissing the area softly. He sighs, “… Apologies.” Strangely guilty, the change in demeanour gives you whiplash.
You didn’t know what he was apologizing for, whether it was the marks that scattered across your flesh, or the ruined guest room- either way, you could tell he meant it. Covered in bites and bruises, and you’d never been happier. He takes initiative, carefully scooping you up and rolling your bodies over slowly. Tucked against his chest as your breathing evened out, still connected. You assumed you’d be stuck here for a while. The primal heat finally dying down, the sun began to gleam over the horizon. Your limbs felt like lead.
Sleepy and warm, you broke the silence, “Would this be a bad time to tell you I have a crush on you?” The confession was framed as a joke, yet your vulnerability lingered in the air that followed. He exhaled through his nose with a huff, an almost laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching just a tad. “You are by far the strangest human I’ve ever met.” Giggling quietly, you cuddle further into his chest, “You would’ve eaten me if I wasn’t.” Your words make him pause, shame creeping in. Looking up, you can see the storm starting to brew in his head. “I was kidding, twas’ just a joke.” And he scoffs in disbelief,
“You should hate me.”
“Too bad I don’t.”
It was bothering him. No matter how stone-faced he was, you’d realized you had learned to read him. “Jack-“ He cuts you off with a disgruntled hum, “You don’t even know what I am, what I’ve done-“ Leaning up, you kiss him. Sweet and slow, letting him feel your trust. “I let you into my house when you’d say like- two words a day max. Plus, you looked like the boogeyman when you showed up that one time. And-“ You peck his jaw, continuing, “I still thought you were cute, so.” Jack stares at you as if you’ve grown three heads.
“Your self-preservation is severely lacking-“
“Answer my question, beasty.”
He raises a brow at the nickname before responding anyway. “… No, it would not.” You were admiring him, your gaze fond. “So…” Trailing off, expectant. Tilting his head in thought, while his hand pets the small of your back. “So?” He kind of reminded you of a stray cat, a very large, very dangerous stray cat. “Do you- y’know.” You mumble, shrugging. The expression that overtakes his features makes you snort. He seemed so offended, “If you’re asking if I care for you, the answer should be obvious.” He says it like you’ve insulted him, borderline pouting. Though if you told him that, he’d deny it with fervour. Perhaps it was in bad taste, but the rollercoaster he’d put you through demanded vengeance. “Which would be?” Drawling, you teased him. Jack’s deadpan somehow deepened, and you pressed.
“Say it- you like meee-“ And he blinks at you. Amused, he nods, “I do.” Something so plainly stated, so sure in his ways. It made your stomach flutter. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome, I’d be mad if anyone less pretty broke my bedframe.” His entire body freezes under you, sockets widening for a millisecond. Worry passes through your thoughts, going to ask what you’d said that had made him uncomfortable- you paused. The grey hue of his skin didn’t really allow for blush. Or so you thought. Because as he tilts his chin down just the slightest, the faintest hint of blue dusts his ears. You gasp,
“Oh my god, are you blushing?-“
“I beg of you.”
Interrupting you, his eyes shut. Holding you stiffly, as a lightbulb goes off in your head. He was flustered. Squinting at him, you were in shock. Jack had bent you six ways to Sunday after showing up covered in blood, scaring you half to death, and he couldn’t handle being called handsome? Swiping your thumb along the crease under his eye, you cradled his face. “I don’t know about you, but I actually think you’re quite dashing.” His lashes flutter open, memorizing your grin, the gentle lilt of your voice. “Rest.” Chiding you with a tut, he cups your nape, pressing your cheek back down. Skin on skin, you couldn’t tell where you ended and he began, closer than close, really.
Maybe there would be hardships, sleepless nights and times he’d chip at your heart. And maybe he’d mend it with guilty hands, hollowed eyes when he begged in atonement. However, that was for future-you to stress about. So for now, you’d lie your head and listen to the thrum in his chest. Safe in his embrace, more protected than you’d be anywhere else. Your love was filled with tongue-tied confessions, clumsy and unsure. That was okay, though.
Because he was yours, sharp teeth and all.
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A/N: SORRY FOR THE DELAY T-T I’VE BEEN TEWW BUSY BUT ITS HEREEE YAYY EVERYONE CHEERED !! I hope you guys liked it bc he is my princess and he is very gorjus to me ^3^
Waking up to the sounds of panting from on top of you. Sometimes there are popping sounds and loud incoherent noises. You wake up lazy and groggy only to find Ticcy moving his hips in circular motions on your abdomen. He's not pushing, not thrusting, just applying enough pressure on his leaking cock to find release.
⤷ 𝐓𝐖: dead dove do not eat: mentions of the word “rape”, noncon, unhealthy relationship, NSFW, mentions of fetishes, degradation, murder, kidnapping, overprotectiveness, paranoia, name-carving, pussy-slapping, overstimulation, hair pulling, choking, f!reader, mutilation, delusion, burning people, burying people alive, infantilization, unstable mental condition, mentally abusive dynamic, sex praise, etc.
• You have read the warnings, you know what you are getting into; if you choose to read it and get upset, don't say I didn't warn you.
𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈!
You know that one house of the dragon quotes? “they say everytime a targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin” — that is basically Homicidal Liu, same but different. He is a two different side of the same coin. Like a dormant angel and devil living inside one young fine man.
On a sunny side, you have Liu. I hcs him as a very sweet and even a very soft boy. He literally lived through hell so much thanks to Jeff but Liu is nowhere near him even after everything he has to go through because of his own brother.
It's the same for his yandere persona. He's extremely doting with you, i would say he definitely infantilizes you, maybe un-awarely, or not, it doesn't matter.
He is also a very somewhat paranoid yandere type, i think. The reason you may never see it is probably because of how he coats it. He always looks calm, cold-exterior, but he's actually a very mentally fragile man, not in a way he has a big ego but that he's a very overprotective and overtly paranoid ones.
When doing sex — or rape, he'd be so soft with you. He'd praise you for being so good for him, cooing you when you tried to walk away from all the overstimulation, and yes he had insane stamina, though he's more of a 'lazy' side. Not sure if its for good or worse since he doesn't move too much, he can stay fucking you for hours nonstop.
He'll never pull your hair or choke your neck, though the other side of him def do (Sully) but that's later. He'd give kisses to you, caressing all your flaws in an reverencing way, basically worshipping you like you're a goddess and he's your only one devoted follower. He'd call you the sweetest name despite what he's doing to you. Calls you his “love”, “mother of his child”, “dolly” — it's like you guys are in a very deep relationship or something! oh wait, you both probably are. You just don't know it.
When Liu is jealous to someone touching you, or god forbid if he sees anyone trying to hurt you, he is going to fuckin’ hunt their ass and no i'm not kidding. He'll never show the bodies as he's afraid you'll be scared of him and hate him. Liu is anything, but stupid and unnecessarily cruel to you. Though..
It'll certainly be a total opposite when Sully came to the image. Speak of the devil, he's a fuckin’ menace. Worse than Liu is for sure, and worse than Jeff. Jeff is clowny, he’s terrifyingly goofy. But Sully has none of that whimsy-ness to him nor a decent sense of joy. He was the result of Liu's subconscious mind bleeding into real psyche. A kind of defense mechanism, for all he's been going through. And if you think he'll be anything but gentle, in-fucking-deed you are precise.
You could even say Sully is a somewhat ‘sensitive’ person, he's easily irritated, doesn't like joking around unless he is the one doing it specifically. If you think Liu is bad as a yandere for murdering people’, Sully will give you something real for you to actually be scared about.
He's not out here doing killing and hiding their bodies. He'll gladly put them on sticks or poles outside the cabin he and Liu hold you captive in. Letting you see his 'charity' everytime you tried to escape as a reminder of your already misery fate. He'd have his stitched face smilling absurdly wide at you — green eyes gleaming like burnt emerald and shit.
And he's not just stabbing people out there, he'll burn them to medium-rare fucking steak, probably feed the bodies to wild animals or even Eyeless Jack or something’, have them get skinned, or buried alive and when they had finally died he'll dig them back up and put them on the goddamn pole — or perhaps not cus he will not do allat 😂 but he's terrifying, that's what im saying.
Oh and also speaking of terrifying, this man's paranoia is not any better than Liu, not even close. Liu's paranoia comes from the feeling of him not wanting to lose you, and it gets manifested through a ridiculous amount of overprotectiveness, delusion and paranoia. But Sully's paranoia comes from a much more rotting sense of unstable mental condition, you'd even click him as a bipolar or something for how fast his emotions are regulating. It'd be just in 6 hours and you already saw 17 emotions coming from him, and this is no joke.
And now you wanna talk about it. In SEX? you have never seen nothing. Forget bout’ any asmodeus or sex demons, because Sully's existence itself will shame them for all the holding backs they do. Sully, without question, would do some of the most unholy things to you. There will be no more gentle bear Liu shows you.
He'll pull your hair, or choke your neck if you have short hair ones, it didn't matter. He absolutely loves it if you usually wear pigtails or braids because he'll play rope with them a lot. He'll spit, slap your pussy, if you have a rather big-sized clitoris he'll playfully pulled them and just play with them till you're squirting all over the cabin floor. Demands you to clean the floor by licking all the liquid scattered across the wooden surface with your ass sticking out and then he'll take you raw from the back.
He's fuckin’ nasty in words. Calling you “cunt”, “slut”, “fleshlight” — if you're crying he'd say “what baby? you don't like me treating you like the fuckin’ cunt you are? like you aren't made to be my sex doll by destiny.. hehe” all with voice so astonishingly cold and ruthless you'd feel like you were having sex with a boogeyman or something. You'll have to figure out mid-sex while being ravished if he meant all the things he said or if he just had an extreme level of degradation fetish.
He'll also carve out his name onto yours using a knife, not “Liu” but actual “Sully” lmao.
By the time Sully is gone and Liu comes back, seeing you drenched in thick cums, holes swelling after being repeatedly penetrated by his alter self's cock (they, i mean Liu and Sully, has a very impressive size in length, by the way), mouth sore and overfilled like cream puffs, trying to catch a breath —
Liu would never admit this, partly because he's too kind and he doesn't really realize it, but highkey because he's not stupid and he does not want you to hate him for expressing this salacious thoughts, but those views of you did not help his aching cock at all. You're gonna get fucked twice after Liu comes in lmao. And because of that reason itself imma have to give two ratings. For Liu it's probably 7.3/10, he's not hostile to you outwardly, at least not to you. He's times more calmer and would gladly negotiate with you and comfort you even if its all honeyed, sugar coated or pure bs. For Sully? straight 9.8/10. Pretty self-explanatory.
I mean that's better i guess — at least Liu still has a lot of hospitality within him, no?
