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erenasia · 10 hours ago

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𝑮𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒚, 𝑷𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝟏 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝟐 (𝟏𝟖+)

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑺 𝑫𝑵𝑰. 𝑵𝑶 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑶𝑹𝑺.

𝑰 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒐𝒅 𝒊'𝒎 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒄𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒉 𝒐𝒖𝒕---

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑾 𝑰𝑵𝑪𝑳𝑼𝑫𝑬𝑺 𝑩𝑶𝑻𝑯 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑺.

𝑾𝑯𝑬 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑺𝑬𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑺𝒀𝑴𝑩𝑶𝑳 *** 𝑰𝑻 𝑴𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑺 𝑻𝑯𝑨𝑻'𝑺 𝑾𝑯𝑬𝑹𝑬 𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑶𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑰𝑵𝑨𝑳𝑳𝒀 𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑫.

(𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒔𝒉𝒉𝒉𝒉𝒉)

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑱𝒆𝒇𝒇 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒃𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒂 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒎𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒂𝒌𝒆, 𝒃𝒆𝒇𝒐𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒑𝒖𝒔𝒉 𝒉𝒊𝒎 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒕?

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 𝑱𝒆𝒇𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑲𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓 𝒙 𝑭𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔: 11.5𝒌 (𝑰’𝒎 𝒔𝒐 𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚)

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑺/𝑻𝑾: 𝒅𝒖𝒃𝒄𝒐𝒏 (𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒂) 𝑺𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒄𝒉 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒚, 𝒅𝒐𝒎/𝒔𝒖𝒃, 𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒆, 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈, 𝒉𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒅𝒆𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝑨/𝑵: 𝑺𝒐𝒓𝒓𝒚 (𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒐). 𝑰 𝒉𝒐𝒑𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒍𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝑰’𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕 𝒍𝒎𝒂𝒐.

𝑨𝒍𝒔𝒐…𝒑𝒔𝒔𝒕, @horny-marbles 👀

Regret. The word hung heavy in the air.

People lay slouched in the chairs, cigarettes burnt low, fingers pulling at grass just to keep the blood flowing.

No one was there by choice.

Not anymore.

They were just waiting for it to end.

Waiting for this unfolding nightmare to be put to rest; to go back inside and enjoy the warmth of the house, or eat unlabelled human organs in the privacy of their own room.

But it wouldn’t. They couldn’t.

Because they’d agreed to it.

And now they were paying the price.

The atmosphere was tense, quiet. The strained squeak of a chair leg only highlighted the unusual silence spilling over the forest.

You shifted in place.

Everyone was attending a garden party.

One held in the dead of night. With a guest list of serial killers, crazed psychopaths, unnatural beings, and a dog, to boot.

It was freezing. It was uncomfortable.

No one wanted to be here, not when the threat of freezing to death lingered like a dense fog.

No one except, that is, for Toby.

Because he was the man of the hour, the king of it all— the organiser of this cursed ensemble. Just an hour before, all attendees were sleeping soundly, tired from a long mission or a tricky day at the house.

Yet Toby had other plans.

The clock had struck 3am. The entrance had flung wide with a deafening ‘thwack’. Toby stood in the centre of it all, causing a ruckus so loud that sleeping dogs could no longer lie in peace.

At the time, you tried to ignore it, tried to nestle further into the bedsheets and push away the craziness happening outside.

Yet it couldn’t be avoided.

Smile was the first to wake, bounding down the grand staircase to greet Toby with a wagging tail and curious sniff.

Jeff soon followed.

After that, all hell broke loose.

You didn’t manage to catch the first part of their conversation. You didn’t want to catch the rest, but it became impossible to drown out.

“W-well, m-man, I d-don’t see why not?!” His voice was raised, defensive.

Jeff hissed, before groaning in annoyance. You threw a pillow over your head. It didn’t help.

“Because it’s a stupid fucking idea, that’s why.” Footsteps followed, then so did the sound of metal grinding against wood. “These chairs look like dogshit anyway!”

…Chairs?... Idea? You sat up in bed, throwing away the pillow before letting out a deep sigh; this could no longer be ignored. Whatever was going on downstairs suddenly became far more interesting than sleep anyway, and with a scoff, you swung your legs over the bedside.

“M-motherf-fucker, d-don’t fucking ins-sult my ch-chairs! I went through a l-lot of e-effort to get those!”

Jeff grinned, as if Toby's words had lit a fire in the room, then handed him a can of gasoline. You didn’t need to see it— it was present in the tone. The rat bastard couldn't help but antagonise every situation he was a part of.

“Don’t insult your chairs? What, they got feelings or somethin’?... They gonna start cryin’ if I call them rusty, no good, god awful, pieces of—”

“Jeff.”

A voice cut through the carnage.

Yours.

It cascaded down the staircase and brought the two bickering men to a halt. Clad in a long shirt and wearing it like armour, you stood tall at the precipice— quiet spilling into the dilapidated foyer, tense and uncertain. As Jeff dropped the chair he was holding, a metallic clang echoed off of the walls.

He glared. “Yeah? Got somethin’ to say?” Then he took a step forward, and If it were at all possible his gaze would have narrowed.

In the meantime you’d descended into the scene of the crime, and surrounding the culprits sat four rusty garden chairs. Looking behind them, an equally grimy table wedged the front door wide open and let in a sharp breeze. The whole scene was disjointed, like something out of a comedy sketch; almost impossible to read at first glance, and requiring you to have seen the past 3 episodes to understand. You hadn’t been privy to those, so instead you directed your attention back to Jeff.

“Yeah, I do,” The words slipped out through a yawn. “Stop being mean to Toby will you? and instead,-” Another yawn, “-tell me what the hell is going on?”

The man scoffed, arms crossing in a firm ‘x’ across his chest. He opened his mouth once more— most likely to spit venom— before Toby interjected, the persistent twitching seemingly having eased at your presence.

“W-well, I found these.” He gestured to the chairs, as if they were something marvellous. A flicker of a smile ghosted across Jeff’s face, noticing how you looked over the furniture in confusion.

”I… see that, Tobes. And… why do you have them?” You gave Jeff a warning glance, one that reflected the words ‘Don’t fucking start’, as much as humanly possible. In response, furrowed eyebrows raised to create an expression— one that was smug, waiting, expecting.

“Stole t-them on a mission. I-I thought we could throw a party outside— one of those, like, g-garden parties, you know?”

You grinned, side eyeing Jeff. What was wrong with that idea? Why the looks? Maybe he was just trying to get under your skin like usual, or vehemently hated the idea of being a community.

“...Oh! Sure, I’ll attend. We could grab some beers from the store, I'll make potato salad, it’ll be fun. When are you thinking?”

You and Toby were pretty close. Close enough, that it was almost always you who felt the brunt of his strange ideas, or impulsive decisions. He let himself run free in your presence, and more often than not, you indulged it with open arms.

Jeff let out a sliver of a laugh.

Toby responded.

“... R-right now.”

Expressions stalled. Thoughts ground to a halt.

He wanted to throw it right now? In the dead of night? In the cold, dark, nightmare ridden forest?

No chance.

You’d be mauled to death by Seed-eater, eviscerated by the rake, or worse, have to spend the whole time with Jeff complaining about the cold. Feet tapped the ground trying to think of an excuse, or a way to let Toby down gently.

Because Jeff was right, this was a stupid idea.

No sooner had the thought crossed your mind, did something sour begin to dwell; something that pooled in the depths of your stomach and settled like a thick venom— something vicious.

Spite.

The feeling festered, no matter how fleeting the moment was; it worked quickly, poisoning every judgement you made with precise accuracy. It only worsened, when you glanced at Jeff.

The bastard was smiling.

Smiling, because he knew you were about to agree with him.

You, whose main objective in this place centered around driving him to the depths of hell— arguing every point he made without reason, getting under his skin when things went awry, poisoning people against him— you.

And the cherry on the cake? You weren’t just about to agree with him—

You were about to prove him right.

This concept was so foreign; if you had to place money on which would come first— the rapture, or Jeff and yourself finding common ground— your bets would be on the rapture. No hesitation. You weren’t about to lose hypothetical money, either— so with a sly grin thrown his way, you turned to Toby.

“Oh, right. Well, we can’t have any beers or food, because there isn’t any, and the store is closed. But, I don’t see why that should stop us. So come on, I’ll help you get the chairs back outside.”

Jeff’s face was a picturesque mix of anger, disbelief, and embarrassment all at once. It was perfect, and you? You lived for it.

Toby smiled, excitement bubbling under his skin as he began pushing at the table almost immediately, trying to un-wedge it. You were, of course, doing this for him too. You weren’t about to let Jeff bully your best friend— no matter how stupid the idea.

Another large yawn echoed off the walls.

“Actually, I'll help in a second. I’m still shrugging off the last of my sleep.”

A lie. You just wanted to watch Jeff unravel in full view.

Toby nodded, groaning with another push to the table.

Your smile remained sweet, ‘genuine’, looking from one man to the other like there wasn’t a problem in the world.

Meanwhile, Jeff fumed.

He wasn’t the type to admit when he’d lost, nevermind accept it with open arms. In any other scenario he’d storm off, throw a calloused insult, then slam the door. He’d retreat. But not with you. Never, with you. Because you worked so hard, so damn hard, to bring out the worst in him; to take his fury and set it to a boil, all while wearing that damned innocent smile.

“Oh fuck you! You bitch. You really wanna go outside and play tea parties? Right fuckin’ now?” He laughed, callous, raising his arms with a grin. “Just fuckin’ fess up already, doll, you think it’s a stupid idea too. Admit it, come on, I know you want to”

With that said, it wasn’t as if he was guilt free. He forced your hand many a time— deep rooted insults, petty theft, ‘harmless’ pranks, often curating his own torture as a result— but the blame was never on his shoulders.

An emotionless stare was thrown his way, as if the mere act of paying attention to him was a cruel punishment. It was then followed by a phrase, and a grin.

“Admit what, Jeff?”

Then Jeff stalled, his anger festering even further. He could’ve kept it contained, too, if you hadn’t paired the words with that smug expression.

With that smile.

That damned smile.

After that, he lost all composure. The man was stepping closer now, pointing angered fingers and almost frothing at the mouth. Meanwhile Smile stood up beside him, his teeth bared and growling, mirroring his owner perfectly.

“That you’re lying. Fuck– you know damn well what i’m talking about. You’re just sayin’ that, you’re not agreeing just because—fuck— you fuckin-’,”

He cut off the mismatched sentence, taking a deep breath.

God, it was so easy to get under his skin.

Your response was the opposite: calm, composed, and soft.

“There’s nothing to admit. I just think we all need a break, and it could be a nice way to let off steam. I get along with the others, and it’s a lovely idea from Toby. So no, I'm not just saying that. I genuinely don’t see a problem here!”

You paired the phrase with an evil grin, knowing exactly what it would do to him— knowing that even though he had clocked half of your motivations perfectly, he could do nothing to prove it. Each insult lay hidden, laced perfectly between feigned ignorance and wove a tapestry only he would understand.

Even when he let out a low hum, clenching his fist tight, you still persisted.

You still pushed further.

For Toby, and yourself.

“Well, no problem other than you I suppose. No one wants to spend that much time around you, Jeff, no offence and all. But I'll put up with it, for Toby. I’m kind like that, you know?”

Truth be told, you didn’t even know why Toby himself wanted to throw this party; usually, he was standoffish to most other inhabitants, only really talking to them to relay orders or bark commands. Unless they were his friend, he purposely hid much of his bubbly personality around them, a hard lesson he came to learn many years ago. If you had to guess, it was nothing to do with the people attending, and more to do with the chairs serving a purpose.

But that didn’t matter. What did matter, was forcing Jeff into a situation he’d do anything to avoid, whilst still having your friend’s back.

Jeff was breathing deeply now, trying to hold on to any semblance of his temper. The venom tripled, forcing out a line that would make the man crumble.

“And, look, If I have to put up with a giant man child for a few hours to make my best friend happy? Then so be it.”

Although he was still in a fight with the table, Toby grinned at your words, chuckling softly.

And that was all it took for Jeff to snap.

To no-one’s surprise, the both of you ended up in an explosive and heated argument— so loud, in fact, that if Toby hadn’t woken everyone up with his earlier racket, they were definitely awake now.

That point proved to be true, as at the end of this horrible debate, the whole house stood divided on two opposing sides of the foyer.

The chairs remained in the centre.

Majority voting was the way this house worked. Although it was full of people who never even obeyed the law, the inhabitants strangely obeyed this one rule:

The majority vote is final.

They’d figured out long ago that nothing would get done if they continued to work solo, and none of them denied the fact that they were selfish, either. So this system, as flawed as it was, worked; at some point, everyone would get something out of it. They didn’t have to vote fairly— put biases aside, rationalise,— they just had to vote. The deciding factor could be as arbitrary as someone forgetting to take out the trash.

The state of this vote was troubling, however. It was a perfect split, directly down the middle, completely equal on both sides.

Jeff smirked, eyes locked intently on your form with a gaze that rivalled a burning pyre.

You started to think you’d lose, that the vote would be called a draw, that you’d have to backpedal and seek revenge another day.

That is, until Eyeless Jack entered the fray.

Your smile returned, as your rivals fell.

You delivered him organs last week—

unprompted, and free of charge.

Wearing a blank expression, he calmly walked to your side of the room.

Jeff scoffed.

And then, it was decided.

Everyone was having a garden party.

So there you were. Planted In the grass, shivering from the cold, and wondering whether your win against Jeff was even worth it.

Masky stood with his back turned, looking out into the forest whilst smoking a cigarette. Hoodie lingered alongside him, the two somehow silently communicating with subtle head shakes and glances.

Jack sat hunched on the grass opposite, showing nothing but a neutral expression.

Nina and Jane perched beside you on the chairs, nattering quietly about a new ‘pop figure’ coming out soon.

Clockwork lingered nearby, sharpening her knife.

Toby lounged across two chairs, using one as a footrest and gazing at the sky.

Smile slept in the centre.

Ben was texting.

And he was sitting right next to Jeff.

Who for the past thirty minutes, had been scowling at you in total silence. He sat upon one of the seats, elbows leant on his bouncing knees, fingers clasped together, eyes burning a hole through your skull. Maybe he was trying to explode your mind with his; the act wouldn’t be unusual. It was as if he were begging for you to react, to respond, to lash out at him and tell him to stop staring.

But you didn’t.

The act was instead countered with a grin.

A soft smile.

One that made Jeff tremble with rage.

Someone broke the stillness after that, evidently noticing the red-hot staring contest occurring around them despite the icy temperature.

“Hey. Tell me again, why are we out here?”

Ben spoke up, barely looking away from the phone glued to his hand.

“Because, I’m cold. And I don’t even get cold– I’m dead. So can we wrap this up, like soon? Cause, I got more interesting shit to do than this.”

The leaves rustled as if they had a response, crashing against howling winds which slithered between each tree.

Toby went to argue, before Masky turned his head, interrupting.

“No.”

His mask, lifted ever so slightly to expose flesh, glowed orange as a deep drag was pulled from his cigarette.

“Majority vote. We’re seeing it through.”

The masked man’s gaze lingered, daring Ben to respond and throwing down an imaginary gauntlet.

Yet it wasn’t him who spoke up next.

“I mean, It is pretty chilly out here. You know, like, maybe, we can change it? Or something? I know I voted for this, but, um…”

Nina. Her voice was wavering, the cold seeping through her flashy clothing and freezing down to the bone.

Jane continued the girl's sentence, picking up where she left off.

“What she means is this. We’re not opposing the vote, or questioning our stance on the matter,” She eyed Jeff, taking a shuddery breath. “But we want to reschedule. Because I know I’m not alone in feeling like my fingers are about to drop off.”

The air tightened.

She was right, she wasn’t alone—

Almost everyone let out an agreement, a nod, a hum, a scoff.

Fingertips blue, nose red, lips chapped, you let out a frost ridden breath too.

It was the middle of winter.

And you’d all been sitting out here for an hour and a half.

Masky hesitated, eyes glazing over in deep thought, the cigarette surging to life once more and providing a dull light. It seemed the man required nicotine to even breathe, let alone think. After a brief pause though the lifeline slipped from his lips and fell, crumpled underneath his boot.

Then the mask readjusted.

“Not how this works. We’re out here until Toby says it’s done.” His voice dripped with authority, each word punching through the air like a molten fist.

“---um, hello? we’ll freeze?! And—and the Rake? And Seed-eater? What about them?”

Nina again.

She was right. Those monsters lurked in the shadows, waiting for the perfect time to strike— and when they did? You’d never see it coming. They would be on their way soon.

If they weren’t here already.

As Nina’s concerns fell on deaf ears, a small sense of guilt began to blossom, flourishing the more you looked around the garden.

People were shivering.

People were cold.

People were hungry.

People were angry.

You weren’t just getting glares from Jeff anymore.

Jack now wore an expression of annoyance, his body tense and breathing labored.

Jane trembled, refusing to look at you, refusing to blame you, even though anger simmered beneath her skin.

Clockwork nestled into her coat, breaths fogging the cold air.

Masky glowered as his gaze flicked between Jeff, and you.

Hoodie sighed.

Ben glanced up from the phone, his eyes hardening.

Jeff remained the same.

Locked in his thoughts and seemingly having phantom arguments in his mind, the man barely paid attention to the world around him. That was, until he noticed the concern etched deeply into every wrinkle, the worry lining your lips, the fear clouding your eyes; the sight was relieving, like ice on a sizzling burn.

He smirked, his lips mouthing a silent phrase dripping with conceit.

“You. Lost.”

He was right.

You had.

Even though bile simmered like acid and venom seeped into every pore— he was right.

You’d lost.

Because you were ending this.

Whilst Toby had the final say, it wouldn’t take much to persuade him. All you had to do was admit you were cold, admit you were done, and that you needed to go back inside.

All you needed to do was admit Jeff was right, all along.

Everyone knew this fact too, their sly glares and pleading glances reflecting it well. It wasn’t a secret that you were close with Toby, that you had a sway over his occasional bullheadedness. Nor was it a secret that you had a deep hatred for Jeff.

It didn’t take much to connect the dots.

So, the longer time passed, the more resentment began to fester.

With a final tight lipped grin in Jeff’s direction, a voice slipped out from behind gritted, chattering teeth.

“Hey, Toby…?”

His head snapped over, ripped from a deep daydream with the stars above.

Trembling from both frustration and the cold, you closed your eyes in resignation.

“I think—”

The words got trapped in motion, as Toby launched from his seat and accidentally hurled the ‘footrest’ in the process. Then, following a grin that reached the eyes—

He became your hero.

“H-hold on a minute–” The man raised a gloved palm. “G-got something t-to say f-first.”

A harsh twitch of the left hand.

If someone knew him—really, knew him— they’d know that was his tell.

So If Toby ever wished to take up gambling as a hobby, you’d pull him out of the casino by his hair and scold him for being so stupid. Because every time a white lie escaped those damaged lips, his left hand almost always followed suit.

He spoke again.

“T-this was not as f-fun as I thought i-it would b-be.”

You raised an eyebrow, mouth falling open slightly as frozen air raced its way inside your lungs.

“L-lets head back inside.” He turned, stomping a mud crusted boot on top of the chair discarded by momentum, then puffed out his chest.

“I h-hereby, e-end this g-garden party. So s-sorry everyone! G-guess I got bored.”

And then, In the dim light, illuminated only by the small camping torch placed in the centre, you saw it.

He winked.

A faint gesture, veiled by the dim light and obscured by the tint of his goggles, meant for nobody except yourself.

You could’ve kissed him.

You could’ve run over to him, thrown your popsicle arms around his torso, and tackled him to the ground— showering him in friendly affection.

But you didn’t. Toby kept his motives quiet for a reason: to protect you from a loss in front of your rival.

So instead, with a real grin, you stood from the grass, dusted off icy speckles of dirt, and sighed.

“Alright, Toby. Well, thank you for-

“No, no, come on, tell us bitch, what were you gonna say?”

Eyes flung to Jeff, the man standing tall and huffing deeply as he paced towards his opponent.

You opened your mouth to speak, but didn’t get a chance; the sentence hung stagnant in the air, interrupted by another.

Masky held a firm hand on the man’s chest, glaring down with a stare so inhuman, it should’ve belonged to a wolf.

“Leave it. Get the fuck inside.” He growled, shoving Jeff backwards before pacing towards the house, grabbing your best friend by the hood.

“And you? You’re coming with me. We’re gonna have a little chat about what’s fucking appropriate, around here.”

While Toby was dragged away, with growls, punches, and phrases like ‘g-get the f-fuck off m-me!’, being yelled out into the wilderness for no-one to hear, you grimaced.

You’ll have to make it up to him later.

You had the power to stop this event from happening; the ability to prevent this punishment and nip it in the bud before it had a chance to flourish.

But you didn’t.

And the reason why? Stared deeply into your soul, eyes burning and raging with a fury so unrivalled, it could’ve raised the temperature enough to make the winter months masquerade as summer ones.

And while each inhabitant trekked their way back inside, taking off boots kissed with frost, breathing hot air into each hand, there you both stood.

In the frozen wasteland.

Snarling and grinning.

Even Jeff’s scars, wounds carved many years ago to form a twisted smile, gravitated to the ground from the hatred coursing through his veins.

Then, calloused, scarred, pale fingers flexed around something hidden beneath fabric. Jeff’s eyes darted to the door; he scanned the walls of the mansion, flicking across each window before finally focusing on one.

The second highest in the place, hanging just below the bosses— one which looked out onto the forest, but was too far up to see anything going on in the leaf littered undergrowth.

That one.

The one that belonged to his keeper:

Masky.

Although Jeff hated to admit it, deep down in blackened the depths of his soul, lay an undercurrent of fear— one which swept through him on days where the self righteousness keeping his head attached took a day off. One which kept him chained to this place, forever drowning, taking order after order.

The being that resided within the highest floor was the overarching cause— but Masky? Was only one level below him. Physically, and metaphorically.

He’d already been warned once.

A second time only entailed darkness.

Eyes darted back to your own, fingers and muscles tensing when they took in the sight of you once more.

In your nightshirt.

Alone.

Smiling.

Then something in his eyes… changed.

In turn the expression you wore proudly faltered, and in its place, lay fear.

It was time to wrap things up.

See, there was a line with Jeff. One that you don’t cross, one that you never even toe, unless you want to wind up dead in a ditch somewhere with nothing left but teeth to identify you.

You were approaching that line.

Fast.

The only thing keeping him tethered, was the threat that window held, and the reins the person behind it wound tightly around their weathered fist.

But that only went so far, didn’t it?

This was Jeff, after all.

He’d cut free before. Broken out of the chains, let himself loose— but then returned with his tail between his legs. Other times, his misdoings had gone undetected, and the tales of said moments lay buried with those who experienced them.

You tried to fight the nerves. Tried to keep up the charade, even as his hoodie pocket shifted with his fist, highlighting the shape of a weapon.

But no part of you forgot what he was, deep down.

A monster.

One much greater, and much scarier, than anything you could ever come close to rivalling.

However, as you turned to go back inside, moving frozen limbs in a mechanical dance towards the door, something simmered. It lurched its tentacles to your mind once more, pushing down the fear one final time; fighting every adrenal instinct and crying out in a last stand.

Spite.

Maybe you assumed you were safe.

That you hadn’t gotten as close as you thought, that there was still breathing room for a final, lasting, remark.

One look back.

Two words.

Three mistakes.

“I. Won.”

The light in Masky’s room flicked to life.

The light in Jeff’s eyes faded to a dull grey.

And that was all it took.

In an instant, he lurched forwards, grasping your wrist in a bruising grip.

You didn't even have the luxury of time to react as he stalked towards the edge of the garden, his strides quick and powerful, only looking back to revel in your fear. And revel he did, for when wide, terrified eyes met his own, it only filled him with the urge to continue; the urge to push further, just as you had so many times before.

He didn’t say anything.

Only dragged your body as if it was a corpse, one that fought against him with every ounce of strength it had left.

You didn’t say anything, either. Words were trapped, caged, by the element of surprise.

He turned his steely gaze ahead once more, stepping into the forest and pulling you through with a harsh tug.

“Keep that silence for me, bitch. I don’t wanna hear a fuckin’ word.”

A low whisper.

Unfortunately for him though, Jeff never got what he wanted, for his words seemed to jolt you back to the present; the reminder of who you were rippling through each and every inch of your body.

“Jeff! The fuck are you d-”

A hand, cold, rough, stifled the words penetrating dead air. Meanwhile, a blade, sharpened and wanting, found its way to soft flesh, resting firmly atop it. The tree was next— it’s harsh bark colliding with the thin cotton of your night-shirt, trapping you.

“I said, be fucking quiet. You an idiot? You wanna be fuckin’ mauled?” He hissed.

A slow shake of the head. Narrowed eyes.

“Thought so.” He looked around then, eyes dancing in the darkness for signs of life. After a tense moment, hot breath graced your ear, trickling down your neck and prickling every hair in its wake. “So shut the fuck up. You’ll have plenty of time to scream once we get there. But do us both a fuckin’ favour, and be quiet for now, got it?”

A sinister smirk.

A nod.

A palpitation.

Then a shiver of disgust.

He moved his hands, leading a now silent, but resisting corpse further into the dense woodland. All the while, you begged to ignore the feeling; to overlook the way your heart rate increased the moment he neared, put aside the fact your chest instinctively leant towards his as if it was born to do so. You pleaded with a phantom god, to tune out the faint sense of desire born only from a single spark.

Because it was wrong.

Because you were scared.

Because you hated him.

Even more so as he tugged your arm harshly, a low hum of satisfaction leaving his mouth in a muted tone.

You refused to acknowledge it any further.

Instead, eagle eyes scanned the surroundings, watching for any sense of movement that was out of the ordinary.

Jeff stalked ahead, your wrist clasped tightly between his fingers with a stinging grip, tugging as if you were a dog on a leash.

You had a good idea of where he was taking you.

The safe house.

Nestled deep in the centre of the woods, this place was a refuge for those caught in this treacherous landscape after the sun had escaped into the horizon; a place to hide out until morning from the hellish monsters that prowled beyond its doors. This was the intended purpose, of course, but it was used for other things too:

When people wanted to be alone,

When people wanted to talk without having eavesdroppers,

When people wanted to fight,

When people wanted to fuck.

You swallowed, almost tripping over a thick root.

Jeff spent a lot of his time in the little cabin, mostly when things had gotten too much back at the house, or he had landed himself in a messy situation with the higher ups. From your place on the second floor, which looked out into the thick forest, it was often you caught him stalking out into the dreadful environment, whiskey bottle in hand.

You grilled him about it.

Countless times.

Asked him why, why he went there alone to drown his sorrows, why he skulked off in the middle of the night.

He obviously refused to answer.

But you had a feeling.

A feeling then, and a feeling now—

You were going to find out.

You were right.

The cabin emerged slowly out of the thicket, surrounded by bushels of leaves.

Jeff, wasting no time, paced towards it, hauling your body up the decaying steps and onto the decking.

Then, with one large push, the door flung open.

A shove had you staggering inside.

He followed,

turned,

then bolted the door shut.

And there you both stood, treading water in an ocean of darkness, broken only by sporadic rays of moonlight dripping through the clouded, dusty windows.

One foot tread backwards, mirrored by one stepping forward.

Hearts raced. Pulses quickened. A mirror of reactions, yet both for different reasons.

“J-Jeff. What the fuck are you doing?”

You didn’t know whether it was the cold, finally managing to get through to an adrenalised body, or the terror, coursing through each vein and rooting you to the ground—- but the words came out stuttered. Forced. Scared.

He only chuckled.

“Something I should’ve done a long fuckin’ time ago.”

The floorboards creaked.

Further away to where you last remembered Jeff standing.

“…Masky will find out, you know. They all will. And Toby… Toby won’t forgive you.”

Picking out which feeling was most overwhelming became impossible. Thoughts raced, emotions ranged, flipping between fear, anger, resentment… and something else.

Jeff hesitated. Another long creak echoed against the wooden walls, his next step drawn out, as if to haunt you further.

“You don’t think I thought of that?” He smiled; It was audible. “There’s a fuckin’ reason I waited until Mr.Perfect was in his room.”

“What?’

A ruthless growl of a laugh.

“You think he pays any attention to the shit going on outside, when he’s away in his room of personal torture? Nah-“

Another step forwards.

Another creak.

He was close now.

“The guy’s too wrapped up in self pity. Drowning in bottles of pills, looking over photo albums, you know— that sorta stuff. Wouldn’t even occur to him to look outside. Not when he’s alone.”

You shrunk away, feet hitting the opposing wall with a thunk.

You were trapped.

Cornered.

Alone.

And all at once the realisation dawned,

This was why Jeff liked the cabin.

Because It was isolated.

Quiet.

Hidden.

The idea of anyone coming to the rescue, slipped away with the howling winds.

“And, Toby?…”

A knife shot out, splitting the wood beside your head as it brought with it your aggressor, hand strained around the hilt. On the opposite side, his nails dug into the panels.

“Now, who the fuck is gonna tell him, princess?’

The knife was retrieved with ease, and instead traversed the length of the wall, before resting underneath your chin.

Jeff tilted it upright, forcing you to look at him.

Spit turned to ash.

You couldn’t see him. But he made sure you knew he was there.

Looking down. Enjoying it.

“Well? Come on, use your words, who?”

“… Fuck you.”

The words ran free before you could stop them. And with a short grunt, he pressed the tip of the knife further into your skin.

“Don’t fuckin’ start.” A drawn out sigh. “Fine. Since you’re too fuckin’ stupid to string a damn sentence together, I’ll answer for you.”

He leant closer then, chest pressed against chest with a suffocating force, lips gracing your ear.

“No one. Not me, and sure as shit, not you. No one will tell him. No one… will ever fuckin’ know.”

His breath lingered in short, sporadic pants. It was as if he still held back a monster, one that beat mercilessly upon his castle walls and yowled before the gates.

One he was failing to contain.

Jeff’s fingers trembled around the hilt of the knife.

What followed was a moment of quiet. A silent pause in the charged atmosphere, where the creaks and groans of the outside world seemed nothing more than an exit melody.

Thoughts once cast out by adrenaline cut through once again, unfortunately taking refuge in the stillness.

You fought them.

Because they were wrong.

Because it was him—

And he was about to kill you.

Fighting could’ve worked, if you’d had a weapon. But left forgotten on the night shelf, your knife remained a taunting reminder of the fact you’d rushed outside without a second thought— save for one.

The thought of embarrassing Jeff.

And look at all the good that it did you now.

You couldn’t take him without a weapon, either; In one on one combat, he beat you every time— and he had an advantage.

It was over.

You were going to die.

You swallowed, the knife’s edge moving as your jaw hardened.

The faint flame of desire, the one that trembled in the winds of his closeness, grew brighter. It swallowed the initial match, almost burning down to the pale fingertips which held it.

You put it aside.

“I fucking hate you.”

He smiled, retreating slightly, only to run his cold fingertips through your hair. Then in one swift motion he grabbed a fistful, eliciting a sharp whine. Jeff chuckled lowly, a sound more akin to a growl than a laugh.

“Good. Because I fuckin’ hate you too.”

Your sudden twisted smile met him in a standoff. Fight or flight, you supposed.

“So, so what’s your plan, huh? Kill me, leave my body outside, tell the others I’d been eaten by seed-eater? Lie and say you were too far away to help? Or is that excuse too overused by now? Whatever it is, fucking hurry up and get on with it.”

Jeff’s hand retreated, instead finding your wrist and pressing it against the wood.

With one sentence, everything changed.

“Who said anything about killing?”

His breathing, rugged and unkempt, slowed; his words once controlled and calm, sounded staggered and strained.

“…what?”

There it was again. That silence. That pressure.

The match, now burnt entirely, still held a flame; It simmered for a while longer, before the hand that held it tight let go.

And from there it fell into a pit.

A pit filled with years of stockpiled fuel, waiting for something to ignite it.

A pit filled with venom.

In a mere moment everything caught alight, creating a blaze so intense it took over every thought and feeling. It controlled each action, like you were a puppet on a string.

With your one free hand, you threw it around Jeff’s neck and dragged him close, lips crashing into his with a starved hunger. He groaned before dropping his knife in surprise, deciding instead to rest a callous hand around your neck.

He pushed you back, smiling as you both took in a breath.

“Turns out you’re not as fuckin’ stupid as you look.”

It was an insult. But you didn’t care. Thoughts had long escaped you, now all that remained was hatred and desire, mixed into a perfect cocktail.

“Yeah?” You hummed.

“Yeah.” He replied.

A beat of silence followed.

Then, as if no time had passed, his lips met yours once more.

He hummed between gasps, strong hands feeling around your waist, lifting you from the ground and pushing you further against the wall. Legs then curled around his abdomen instinctively, a stark heat boiling in your core.

“Don’t get it twisted. I still-“ a gasp followed, as he bit down on your lip. “-I still fucking hate you.”

You felt the grin as it crept upon his face.

“Good. You should. Wanna know why?” ***

His body shook as he tore away from you, chuckling whilst you dropped to the floor.

Wincing, glaring, eyes holding a feverish hunger, you responded.

“Why?”

He crouched low, retrieving the knife that had clattered to the ground in surprise, then brought it to your chin.

“Because… you’re not off the fuckin’ hook just yet.”

Blood raced through each vein. Meanwhile, Jeff moved closer, his calloused hands finding their way underneath your thin nightshirt and coming to rest on your underwear. With a soft but firm caress, he had your legs trembling.

“What do you mean off the hoo-“

A weaponised hand clasped over your mouth, whilst the other pressed firmly on your clit.

“You think that because you’re gonna open your pretty legs for me, I’ll let you off, just like that? You really think your pussy is good enough for that, bitch?”

Eyes pleading, chest heaving, you whimpered.

You fucking whimpered.

Because everything within you had been turned on its head.

He laughed in response, callous, cold, cruel, before freeing your mouth.

Then with a snarl, he cut away your underwear.

The cold air was a shock as it hit your pussy, now slick with your own arousal. But Jeff wasted no time in letting his hand explore it, his other dropping the knife and slithering up to tangle in messy strands of hair.

“No. It’s not good enough.” He grinned, leaning closer. “But it sure as shit makes it easier to forgive.” You glared at him, body tensing as you tried to fight the embarrassment. His next sentence did nothing to alleviate it, either. ”Jesus you’re fuckin’ soaked.” He purred, fingers rubbing slow, deliberate circles over your messy cunt. “And you’re supposed to hate me. How fuckin’ embarrassing.”

“S-shut the fuck up” You whined, angry, humiliated, twitching.

He merely scoffed, grinning at your words and leaning close, hot breath leaving shivers in its wake.

“Watch your fuckin’ tone.”

You eyed him. Body betraying each hateful thought with a jolt, only furthering your want for more.

“Here’s how it’s gonna work, sweetheart.”

His hand slowly trailed towards your entrance, bringing your slick with it.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” He teased then, keeping a thumb trained on your clit whilst letting two fingers caress your folds. Hands gripped his hoodie, body shuddering.

“I’m gonna show you exactly how it feels,” A sharp breath. A whine. Fingers barely slipping into your warmth. “When you fuck with me. When you drive me to the damn edge,” His grip on your hair tightened, only amplifying the desperate need for him to go deeper. “And then fuckin’ smile about it.”

Your warmth takes his fingers to the hilt.

And as he begins to move, harsh and rough, you become a moaning, whining, mess; the pleasure was overwhelming, even from just his hands working in tandem. Then came the bites, fierce, harsh, unforgiving, leaving teeth marks trickling with blood. You could do nothing more than cry into the chest of his hoodie whilst he cradled you on the ground, lurching over you like a predator feasting on its hard earned prey.

“You should be counting yourself lucky” He growled, his voice low, sadistic, enjoying every second of your unravelment.

“A lot of fuckers have done way less,” he let out a shaky huff, his own arousal culminating in his jeans, amplified by the slick coating his fingertips. “And come out of it way worse.”

The words elicited a spike of fear, yet that only amplified the experience.

Your self control was long gone. Your body thrummed with excitement, grinding into his fingers and milking them for all their worth.

He laughed, releasing his grip on your scalp to grope harshly at your clothed tits. “So I guess being a whore worked out, huh?”

Deep down, a part of you wanted to lash out at him, to spit in his face, to tell him to go fuck himself— all because he called you a whore.

But you couldn’t.

Because you enjoyed it far too much.

As soon as the words left his mouth, your back arched, moans catching in your throat and turning into nothing but silence. In turn, his hands moved faster, desperate, frantic, forcing an orgasm to the surface quicker than anyone could have imagined.

He grinned. “Really? That fast? Pathetic”

He increased the already mind numbing pace. Nails reached up, digging into his neck, and with a growl he shook them off. The pressure suddenly building within was too much to bear, so overwhelming and begging to be let out.

“Jeff, wait, I’m-“

“you’re…? Go on, say it. I wanna hear it. Beg me, and I might let you.”

Your face flushes red, heart pounding in your chest as the moans become too fast and frantic to be consistent.

“Please, I’m going to come, please let me co-“

Then everything stopped.

His fingers retreated.

His body moved away.

And what they left behind, was a trembling pathetic mess shuddering on the floor of the cabin. Gasps, stuttered words, sounds of confusion, all escaped your mouth within a matter of seconds as you grasped at him.

Jeff started to laugh, before uttering a lone phrase.

‘You to take me to the fuckin’ edge… and then smile about it.”

His laugh continued. Even as you pushed against him, angry fists beating down on his chest but garnering no reaction at all, he cackled.

Then in an instant, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Hands grasped at your throat, and as you struggled to breathe, pussy throbbing from the lack of touch, he leant close.

“That’s, what it fuckin’ feels like,”

He let you gasp for air a moment longer.

“When you’re a bitch. I want you to remember this, every fuckin time you decide to test me. Every time you say something, do something, cause something, and then smile— remember this moment. Got it babe?”

A frantic nod. Gasps for air. A low hum.

“Good. Now stand the fuck up.”

You stood, choking, gulping down oxygen like a lunatic.

Jeff stumbled somewhere in the darkness, obviously knowing the layout by heart, before a beam of light finally battled against the shadows. A small camping torch sat on the nearby table, silhouetting Jeff as he faced it. The table creaked as the man turned around, then leant against the wood.

“Come h-…”

Jeff hesitated for a moment, drinking in the sight of you bathed in low light, desperate, wanting, broken. It fuelled the fire in him; the very same fire that had brought you both here in the first place. His cock throbbed with want, with need. Jeff turned away from you again, barely managing to contain himself.

“C’mere, now.” He spat.

But you didn’t listen. Instead, your eyes remained glued to something highlighted by the blue tinge of the camping torch.

His knife. Laid forgotten on the ground.

Eyes floated towards Jeff slowly as you moved.

Then his appearance fully took hold; he looked as freaky as he normally did, sure— but the way his back rose and fell, the trembling of his hand, the sweat gracing his neck, his strained grunts— all painted a picture of something so desirable that it only cemented your want for him.

But this was not going to happen in the way he pictured.

Not now,

Not after that.

You didn’t know where the new-found confidence came from—- whether it was the frustration of a denied orgasm, or the false confidence of obtaining a weapon, or maybe you just remembered who you were.

You weren’t some helpless girl, who bowed to his every whim. You were here for a reason. You lived here, for a reason.

He was a monster, sure. A terrifying one, at that.

But so were you.

“Hey, are you fuckin’ listening? I said come here. Don’t make me fuckin’ ask-“

The words were cut off. Trapped, by the feeling of his own knife pressed harshly against his neck. Your words came next, whispered over his shoulder, hot breath just gracing his ear.

“I’ve got a better idea.”

He shuddered. He could get out of this, he thought—- but not without damage; not without ending up in Jack’s care. He’d win, but at what cost?

Not to mention part of him wanted to see where this went, where your little attack would lead.

His cock strained against his jeans, the material clinging to his legs and almost suffocating him.

The man raised his pale hands, slowly.

“What the fuck are you doing.” He stated, low, shuddery.

You smirk, knees trembling with anticipation, heart racing.

“You’re not the only one here, who has fucking issues.” You press the knife harder into his neck before continuing. “You’ve shown me how you feel, now it’s my turn to show you.”

Jeff paused, his hands lowering, shoulders slumping as breaths escaped in quick succession.

He could end this. He could. He was far stronger than you.

But he didn’t want to.

Because he couldn’t deny the ache in his groin that was growing more and more pertinent by the second; the way it throbbed, leaking with excitement. He couldn’t deny the way his heart rate has spiked, nor the way his fingers flexed in anticipation.

He couldn’t ignore the fact he still wanted you.

Like this.

He’d let the scene play out for now, pride battling with internal instincts that screamed for him to be the one on top—- for him to be the one with power. But he’d let you get your way, then take back control when you were least expecting it.

Atleast, that’s what he told himself.

“Lie down.” You spat, ripping him from an internal monologue.

He smiled then, letting out a nervous hum of laughter.

Your eyes, heavy with lust, stalked him as he retreated from the table, steadily treading over to the tattered couch nearby— all the while, you kept his knife trained against skin. Your core throbbed, wanting, begging for more, needing to be touched once again; the feeling only worsening when he sat down, his chest heaving, cheeks flushed a deep red.

You kept the knife still, yet hopped effortlessly over the back of the couch, crawling over to his lap. You said nothing. Instead, simply straddled his thighs with your own, pressing the weapon harder into his skin as you neared.

“Take them off, Jeff.”

The man stalled. His heart raced. His expression faltered, but slowly, nervously, he shifted. Lifting you up with ease as you sat on his hips, he shuffled down his Jeans and freed his length, before resting on the couch again.

He should’ve had something to say. Something to bite back against your tone. But nothing was coming to mind.

He only stared at you.

With a mixture of awe, and absolute hatred. Admiration and arousal; disdain and frustration.

“Now.” You uttered, tracing your free hand down his face, watching his expressions react to the touch. Meanwhile, slowly, you shifted, hovering over the bare length which almost reached his navel. Gently you ground against it, liquid arousal coating it entirely as his back arched in response—- calloused hands grasping at the cushions beside him with a groan.

“Here’s how it’s going to work”

The words were a mockery of his, and with a cruel smile, you brought a cold thumb to his lips, jutting it inside and capturing his jaw between your fingertips. His eyes grew wide as you kept his lips parted.

His inner conflict spiralled.

He’ll take back control soon, right?

Because he fucking hated you, as much as you hated him.

He wanted to destroy you.

So why was he continuing to let you steal the power from him?

You pulled him close by his Jaw.

“I’m going to show you,” You ground hard against his length then, eliciting a shuddery moan, and panting gasps. The feeling was immense, overwhelming, and after a soft series of breaths, you spoke again.“I’m going to show you exactly why I hate you. Why I grew to hate you.” You grinned, letting go of his jaw and capturing him in a rough kiss, hand flying to tangled strands of hair and grabbing them in a fistful.

He whined into it.

Jeff the fucking killer, whined into your kiss.

You couldn’t hide the grin that jumped into your features after the soft noise escaped his lips.

He couldn’t hide the shame he felt, his anger bubbling beneath the surface, subdued by a want for more. His hand reached out, grasping your hips with an inhuman strength— then pushed you down further against cock, his hips jutting, swallows strained.

You pulled back, grasping his cheeks in a firm grip.

“You don’t move until I fucking tell you to move, got it?”

He stared, wide eyed.

His emotions failed to make sense; he wanted to kill you—- now more than ever.

But instead, he nodded.

You smirked, yet your own heat was becoming equally as overwhelming. With a shuddery breath, you raised from his hips, lining him against your entrance.

But you wouldn’t let him inside. Not yet.

Not until he begged.

You lingered there.

“When you first arrived here,” You begin pushing down slightly, as his chest jerks. “I wanted nothing more than to get along with you. Remember that?”

This time Jeff actually had something to say.

”Yeah, you were pathetic. Even brought me a damn-“ He interrupts himself with a sharp gasp, followed by a whimper. You’d shifted away slightly. It worked in getting him to shut up.

His face crumples, beet red.

”Yeah. It was. And you only made it worse.” Your own legs were failing you now, begging to give in, begging to lower yourself and chase a much needed release. But you persisted, your slick pooling on him. Your breath hitched. “You never stopped. You took my kindness, and you tortured me with it, forever harassing me, never giving up,” You grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, bringing him near. “And do you remember what you said, Jeff? When I came to talk to you about it. When I wanted it all to stop.”

Jeff swallowed. His dick twitched.

He did.

The implication of it hit him no sooner, knowing what was about to happen. His face twisted into what can only be described as pure dread.

He struggled, yet you kept him caged with one flick of your hips.

“You said that I needed to beg. To get down on the floor, and beg. Beg for you to stop.”

Jeff shook his head, his chest heaving.

He couldn’t beg. He wouldn’t beg.

But when you let go of his hoodie, letting a hand fall beneath your legs to appease the lewd need for him, he caved.

He didn’t know why. But he caved.

“S-so.” You grinned, letting breathy moans escape into the tense atmosphere.

“Beg. Beg, and I’ll sit down.”

His response was quick. It surprised even him, as the words left his lips without so much as a second thought.

“God fuckin’ dammit, please, sit down, holy fuck-“

“Louder.” You interrupted him, a sadistic chuckle paired with the phrase. “Fucking scream it.”

His voice, choked up, followed soon after— much louder than last time.

“S-sit the fuck down, please, I’m damn fuckin’ beggin’, god, sit the fuck down. Plea-“

And with a devilish grin, you finally obliged, his thick girth sinking into your warmth and trapping any sense of sound escaping the man’s lips.

It was damn near euphoric.

The two of you let out shuddery whines, gasps, your free hand falling to his chest as your grasp around the knife trembled. Jeff was still almost silent, the only noise present in the short gasps that escaped his lips; he could feel everything, the way you clenched around him, the way your legs shook, the way your head rolled back as you began to move. The man clasped his weathered hands to your hips, letting out an almost disbelieving whine after each bounce.

Meanwhile, you were losing control. After every rock forwards, each harsh slap of your ass against his thighs, each time his dick hit that sweet spot over and over and over again— your will to keep your head held high was beginning to falter. So much so that after a short while you leaned forwards, threading a hand down to your clit as you rocked against him. Then you rested your head against his. He didn’t fight it. Instead, he lifted a trembling hand, running it through your hair and grasping it tightly.

“H-hey, bitch,” He uttered, his throat letting out a low groan. “Your little act is starting to slip.” Although the growing urge to submit to your whims remained—confusingly—- in tact, one fact proved true:

This was Jeff.

And you were never going to have him under complete control.

Not in a million years.

His psyche just couldn’t handle it.

The defiant words were paired with a low chuckle. His hazy eyes scanned your face for a response, an indication that he was in trouble, but he found nothing. Nothing, except that is, for a weak point.

You were already losing yourself.

You should’ve grabbed him by his hair, whispered in his ear that if he ever spoke out of turn again? You’d stop. But instead:

“F-fuck you,”

The words were bitter. Intertwined between moans which only became louder, hips which only moved faster.

As if awakened by the phrase, something started to creep up on Jeff, something that had been temporarily subdued by his need to be inside you so desperately.

Anger.

Fuelled by the words that were spoken to him, the position he was in, the way you made him act, even for a short time.

The way you made him feel weak.

He’d given up control voluntarily, sure— but enough was enough.

He gripped your thigh with one hand, teeth gritted and breaths escaping in rugged gasps, then used all of his force to thrust up into you; his other still tangled deeply in strands of hair. Your grip on the knife loosened, as a knot in the pit of your stomach began to tighten, an unbearable heat brimming at the surface.

You tried to regain control at least a little— pressing your free hand to his chest, but he merely fought through it, forcing you to give in. The man continued to relentlessly abuse your insides, grinning as he felt the knife loosen from his throat, tumbling to the ground and clattering against the wooden panels.

He figured he’d let you finish this time.

And you did. Coming so hard against him that it left your body a trembling, shaking mess— slick pooling on his stomach as your thighs clenched around his, head aimed at the sky. He grinned, watching you with heavy lidded eyes, his sinister intent surging the moment you came down from your high.

You lifted your hands to your face, taking deep breaths.

Then paused.

Slowly, you lowered them, staring at the man beneath you— realising something.

You’d dropped the knife.

He grinned.

In an instant, he lifted you from his thighs, cock slipping out of you and hitting his stomach with a slap. Then he carried you towards the table, throwing you down against it with a clatter and grabbing a fistful of hair, pulling your face up to meet his.

“Playtime’s fuckin’ over.”

He didn’t take long to line up again, and you— too fucked out and swimming in a post orgasm haze— did nothing to fight him. Not even when he grabbed an arm, twisting it behind your back and holding it there, whilst burying himself to the hilt.

The pace wasn’t soft, gentle, no, the moment he felt you clench around him, it was full speed ahead; animalistic grunts, curses under his breath, like a feral monster chasing nothing but his own release. It didn’t take long before your body writhed underneath him; it took every thrust with a sharp moan, raised its legs to hook around the backs of his thighs, surged with excitement.

Your rational thought had been cast to the wind. Because the feeling was more than overwhelming.

It was almost addictive.

He dropped your hair then, in favour of slapping your ass, and before you knew that familiar tension began to build; he seemed to notice, almost cackling as he belted out a laugh.

“Hates me so much, but wants to come twice on my cock? Startin’ to think you’re full of shit, whore.”

He matched it with another deep thrust, grunting as he grabbed your hip with a free hand, the other still pressing you firmly into the table.

You said nothing, only glancing at him with clouded eyes, mouth open wide and gasping for air.

He grinned.

“Beg.”

The word slipped out through staggered breaths. Yet were too fucked out to acknowledge them.

“Beg.” He spat, firmer, matching it with a harsh smack.

You did just that.

You begged for him to let you finish, screaming his name over, and over, and over, free-hand grasping at the panels of the table.

He snarled, satisfied.

“Cum then, slut.”

Then, for the second time, you were coming— and all he could do was laugh. Laugh as you shook, as you milked against his cock as it drove into you, as you gasped for air. He soon stopped; twitching as you rode through your high, shuddering when he felt himself nearing his own release. He let go of your wrist to grip you by the back of the neck, pulling you upright then hooked an arm around it in a chokehold.

Your eyes rolled, letting out sharp, desperate, whines as he grasped at your tits.

“Fuck,” Jeff rasped, groaning into your shoulder before biting down harshly.

You cried out.

Only for it to send Jeff completely over the edge, his body tensing, his arm flexing and choking out any form of air. His hips jutted to chase his fleeting orgasm, as he filled you in entirety, the hot liquid already escaping down your thighs.

You both remained for a moment, his arms loosened, his chin rested by your neck.

A heart beat passed.

Breaths slowed to a halt.

Then, the air was still.

The gravity of what you had just done hit you both like a ten tonne truck, mowing over any sense of life in the room.

It only brought with it a thick sense of dread.

Jeff was the first to move. Silent, hesitant, pulling out of you with a crude ‘pop’ before treading over to the couch. Clothing shuffled as he grabbed his jeans from the ground.

You had yet to shift, eyes glassy and clouded over, staring at a distant point on the wall; even though your lips spoke, it’s as if you weren’t even saying the words.

“Nobody hears about this Jeff.” You swallow. “No-one.”

A moment of silence passes, before Jeff responds.

“Yeah, I know. Not one fuckin’ soul.”

Over the next week, everyone could tell something had changed.

The house was now eerily quiet; the violent arguments that once adorned its halls in excess now simply ceased to exist. There were still chitters, still disagreements, still conversations which got loud—- but they weren’t one sided screaming matches. They weren’t altercations which ended in one party being dragged off screaming, whilst the other stood there smiling.

They weren’t between you and Jeff.

Toby was the first to notice something was up, and you had expected no less from him.

It started with the subtleties; First, you couldn’t give him a straight answer on what took you so long to get inside that night. Second, every time Jeff passed by in the hall, Toby looked at you expectantly, faltering when the man passed you both without a hitch on multiple occasions. Third, the moment you sat amongst Jeff and the others at the dining table a few days later; not a single foul word was said between either of you.

It all came to a head, when Jeff took your seat on the couch.

Toby knew the perpetrator was in for a rough time then; witnessing time and time again the passive aggressive, sweet-sounding, psychological remarks that would roll off your tongue in quick succession whenever it had happened before.

Yet,

When you entered the room…

Jeff moved.

He said nothing. He rose from his seat, cleared his throat, then sat somewhere else.

You didn’t acknowledge him either. Instead, you flopped down into the seat that was previously being kept warm, then closed your eyes.

And that is what alerted the others.

That’s when they knew for sure, something had changed— but nobody could figure out exactly what. Hushed conversations followed your form everywhere, hiding behind closed doors and happening when they thought nobody could hear.

“Those two confuse me, Jane. One minute they’re at each other's throats, the next? They’re strangers.”

”Maybe they came to an agreement, Jack. Or maybe they got bored of tormenting each other. As you know, Nina and I had a feud with him for many years, and after a while, the aggression became exhausting. That doesn’t mean their feelings have lessened, though. Ours haven’t.”

Each time you heard their twisted theories, it only made the fear of being found out fester; only made your ears hypersensitive to the sound of whispers. Your heart stopped the time Ben hit the nail on the head.

”Maybe they hate fucked. I dunno. I’ve seen it works.”

“No, y-you’ve ‘seen’, it works, in f-fucking p-porn. It d-doesn’t work like t-that in r-reality.”

Luckily, he’s a known pervert, so nobody took him seriously.

Toby pulled you aside on every free moment he had, to poke holes in your lies. But you wouldn’t let up, no matter how hard he tried.

Besides, by the time he’d even gotten to that stage, you’d long since figured out an alibi.

“I don’t know where Jeff went, why would I care? I went to the safe house, I needed some time alone. When I got there, I fell asleep after getting cosy. Then, I came back.”

You heard through the grape-vine that Jeff said he went for a walk; he could fend for himself in the woods, so the excuse was plausible. You hadn’t spoken to him about it directly though, In fact, you hadn’t spoken to him at all since that night—-

Until now.

A lit cigarette dances between your fingertips, blanket wrapped tightly around your shoulders, as you sit on a garden chair.

Jeff leans back into a different seat, fingers tapping away at the metal as smoke curls into his mouth.

An empty pack of Marlboro reds lies discarded nearby.

You’d come out here to smoke, to get away from the whispers that wouldn’t cease inside the house.

He’d come out here before you, to stare at the sky.

And now, after sharing the last pack of cigs you own over brief small talk, you sit here, silently.

Together.

The quiet lingers for a good while. The trees groan in discontent.

Then, Jeff stands.

He tosses an extinguished cig to the ground.

He rolls his shoulders.

Then slowly walks to the edge of the forest…

and stops.

He turns his head.

You meet his gaze, the blanket slowly falling from your shoulders as you come to a stand.

You see, throughout this past week, there has been something else happening in your mind; a realisation.

You hate the stares, the theories, the whispers— the fear of being found out.

But not…

Jeff.

Because since that night, you haven’t been able to stop thinking about him; fingers delve between your thighs each time you get into bed, imagining it happening all over again, frame by frame.

Little do you know, he’d been doing the same.

You meet him at the edge of the forest.

He grins, letting out a breathy chuckle.

“Thought so.”

𝑻𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒑𝒍𝒐𝒂𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒐𝒃𝒊𝒍𝒆. 𝑺𝒂𝒊𝒅 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈. 𝑩𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒄? 𝒐𝒉 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒉, 𝒏𝒐, 𝟏𝟏𝒌 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆. FUCKIN HESUS CHRISTE.

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