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The waking world slowly flooded Spooky's senses in waves, and it took a few moments for him to peel his eyes open, lashes still fluttering as he adjusted. The sound of distant birds rang in his ears, bouncing off the metal walls, and he could see beams of sunlight shining through the gaps in the imperfect construction.
His entire body burned like hellfire and ached like he had run a marathon, his head still felt like an anvil dropped on it and his knees were scraped to hell and back. It was all a puzzle that his freshly wakened mind struggled to comprehend.
Upon slowly putting the pieces together, he eventually clued in to what happened the day before, and the memories flooded back all at once. They ran over his body like a tsunami and he shivered as he processed.
Once reality had fully settled into his bones, his eyes flew the rest of the way open, his body following suit with a similar urgency as it shot upright and broke into a cold sweat. He scanned the room frantically, looking for any little sign of his love still being with him.
Nothing. Not a hint of Blurry. Not next to him, not across the room, nowhere. Not even hiding in the shadows, not this time. The evidence of it having been there recently was still visible－the shape of its body imprinted into the snow that covered the ground beneath them, the patches of blood and signs of struggle still showing as clear as day. But Spooky Jim was, in fact, completely and utterly alone.
It felt as if his heart was ripped violently from his chest and left to rot on the soil, the eerie feeling of loneliness taking its place and making a home within his ribcage.
He looked down to check any expanse of skin he could think of, searching for remnants of the blurrypaint. Nothing of note to be seen, except for faint cum stains left painted on his pants and shirt－which he proceeded to rub away with a handful of snow, letting out a groan of disgust in the process.
His mind was clearer than ever, none of the shadowy ink in sight to cloud his judgement, and he still wanted to throw up at the idea of just being left there. He hated the stupid emotions he held on to that he just couldn't seem to let go of, and it was clear that Blurry looked down on him because of how emotional he was.
A small part of him was left hoping, nearly praying to whichever god that would listen that he would wake up next to Blurry. He became more embarrassed with every moment that passed as he thought about it. The more he mulled the wish over in his head, the more unrealistic it seemed.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would anything ever change?
Every single time he fell for the same game, but this time actually felt different for once. This time was different, it had to be－they literally fell asleep holding each other. He drifted off to the soft sounds of the creature's breath, they shared body warmth all night.
Why couldn't he just be enough? When did it even leave, and why?
A sharp stinging sensation brought him crashing back down to earth for a short moment, and he traced where the pain was coming from with his eyes before landing on the cause, covered by damp fabric. Upon lifting his hoodie sleeve, he was met with the sight of it. And it felt like fireworks, again, and for a moment things almost felt okay.
Almost.
A heart had been hastily cut into his wrist, the letters 'BF' carved deep into the flesh within it. The blood that had dripped from the cuts was dried by now, and the heart was traced with Blurryface's signature black ink. It settled into the wound like it belonged there, making a home in the early stages of scabbing that formed. Upon closer inspection, he saw his hand was smeared with the ink as well. How did he even miss that?
It was like Blurry held his hand, cut him, then just left in the middle of the night. Without so much as a word, and seemingly without much hesitation. After everything the day before－and this time he really, truly thought that things had changed.
The feelings and emotions that rose to the surface of Spooky's mind were incredibly conflicting, and he felt used. And so deeply tired, mentally and physically. The dizzying feeling crept up his spine and settled in his head, somehow making his stomach turn. It almost felt like it had infected his brain.
He didn't want to be in this beat up, piece of shit warehouse for one more moment.
Spooky peeled himself off the ground with an involuntary groan of protest, his clothes sticking to his skin in the spots he was laying on the snow. The feeling was disgusting, making his skin crawl with every little movement and every gust of wind that passed by.
Pain ran through his veins so suddenly and with such a white-hot anger that it nearly knocked him back down, but within a few moments he was up on his feet, albeit unsteadily. His body was fighting back, but he decided that he was stronger.
He leaned against the cold metal wall with his elbow for some much-needed stability, pausing for a moment to shake the memories of the previous day out of his head. He simply couldn't afford thinking about it anymore, he had to move on and press forward. Like every other time.
He started to hobble feebly towards the entrance of the warehouse, giving himself a push off of the wall to get a kick start. Despite his weak legs and every muscle in his body just dying to fail on him, he kept himself upright, dragging his feet through the thin snow.
Every day was the same－even if the scenery changed, he would still go through this as long as he lived. The same routine. Any moment now he could slip through the cracks and end up somewhere else, in some other universe. So, he filled his days with mindless wandering. He was sick of it, but it was all he knew, and it was still all the same.
He needed to escape. Needed to break the cycle. But how?
As he reached the outside, the cold nipped at his skin immediately and he let out a relieved sigh in response, some of his most tense muscles finally relaxing and letting him fully breathe in the fresh air around him. He started to walk, just picking a direction and sticking with it, uncaring of where he ended up. Anywhere but here.
The cold always made him feel alive－even in the moments he wasn't sure he could call himself that anymore. The way it rattled his bones and numbed his skin during the long nights was sometimes the only way he remembered days instead of just moments. So, he welcomed the shivering and his chattering teeth as he thought.
Any life he potentially had before Blurryface was completely erased in his mind when he was turned into a creation of its making. Whoever he was before becoming this was gone and had been gone for quite some time. Spooky Jim, the identity Blurry gave him, was all he knew－as stupid as that felt and sounded to him.
He would always desperately hold on to any little detail that made him feel like an actual person, rather than just a thing. He was resolute in his quest to hold on to his humanity longer than Blurry did, and his face scrunched up when he thought about it. The lack of empathy that the creature exhibited was alarming, but still deeply intriguing.
At the end of the day, he still would be driven by a need to learn every single thing there is to learn about Blurryface. He had so many questions left unasked, and he was just so curious. It was in his nature, that much he knew.
Spooky finally reached a tree that was thick enough to support him and leaned his entire body weight on it, letting out a deep breath he was unaware he was holding. Every muscle in his body screamed and begged to relax, but he couldn't stop here. Not now.
He was sick of this, all of it. Running from places and from his emotions. Why couldn't he just have Blurry in the way he wanted? He didn't want to wake up alone anymore, wondering when he would see the other next. It was driving him crazy. Days turned into months, which turned into years, and he had lost track.
Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes, and the resulting pressure built up in his head－which welcomed back the throbbing he had escaped previously. He was so deeply tired. In every sense of the word. Yet he still scrounged up the last bit of strength needed to walk just a little further, the warehouse finally becoming lost in between the trees and becoming a distant memory.
Everything passed by him in flashes and vague blurs－he had dissociated to distance from the pain, and it felt like he was watching his life from a screen. Just a little bit further was all he needed, and he couldn't even tell how long he had walked before his body finally gave the final warning signs of giving out.
He found a clearing with a big tree in the middle and decent cover, the leaves and branches coming down to create a nice shade. The ground underneath was drier than anywhere else he saw, the leaves having caught most of the snow－and it left him with a nice patch of cold, hard ground to rest on.
It was good enough, and he found his legs dragging him the few final strides needed to finally rest against the trunk before giving in. He slowly dropped down to sit, his back laying against the tree lazily once he finally hit the ground.
Finally.
The tree bark wasn't comfortable, it even got caught in his dyed hair and pulled at the strands, but he hadn't been truly comfortable in years. His expectations were nonexistent at this point, and his hair was in bad enough shape that he just couldn't find it within him to care.
His body relaxed, for once, somehow. Despite the cold, wet clothes sticking to him－which he almost always found new ones somewhere along the way, it didn't bother him－he found himself melting into the hard ground almost blissfully, his shoulders dropping just the slightest bit.
Wow, anyone from anywhere can really do anything, huh?
Within a few minutes of aimlessly looking around, scanning the trees around him over and over again searching for any sign of a threat, he fell asleep. Or rather, his body finally failed him like it had been waiting to, and he drifted off into a state of rest induced by the dizzying pain and the aches in his muscles.
When a snapping twig woke him up an unknown amount of hours later, it took a few moments to actually clue in, his brain lagging behind majorly. Like usual.
He lurched in his spot unnaturally, processing where he was before another crack broke the silence, and his eyes finally flew open. His heart rate shot up to the sky, rattling his entire body and pounding in his ears, and he looked around the clearing frantically.
There was a part buried deep within him that wished it was Blurryface lurking in the shadows, and he cursed that part every time it spoke up. With how sickening the push and pull was－he needed to stop needing it. All of it.
It was night at this point, the hours having passed him by, and he had to squint at his surroundings in order to make out any shapes as his brain caught up. The moonlight bounced off of the thin blanket of snow on the ground, making his surroundings unclear and sparkly.
Nothing was obviously out of place, nothing looked wrong at first glance, but the hairs on his arms were standing tall like his body was preparing for something. Like it knew something he didn't, and the thought made him shiver.
The cold seeped into his flesh like a bad omen, and he almost regretted finding a place outside to sleep for a split second; as if finding another building would have been any easier to do. It felt like dread had settled into the atmosphere around him and started suffocating him, clinging on to the walls of his lungs like asbestos.
The anxiety was yelling at him to stand up, to protect himself so he wouldn't be vulnerable. So, despite his limbs screaming at him and begging him to stay down, he used the little bit of strength he could muster to lean on the tree and force himself upright.
And then, the tree shook. As if someone－or rather, something－was up in the leaves, stalking him. He looked up with wide eyes and only caught a glimpse of glowing red and a thin sheet of snow falling from the leaves before he felt hands on him.
Just a split second; a cold, inky handprint being left on his throat and catching him off guard, making his head snap back down fast enough he heard a crack.
Then his hair was being pulled and used as a grip to push him against the tree. Everything happened so fast, the world spun around him in waves as he processed.
This was it, this was exactly what he craved. The fear, longing and arousal all combined into a sickening sensation as the blurred images in front of him finally connected and showed Blurryface. He simultaneously felt like he finally found the meaning of his life and like it was ending all at once.
"Why did you leave?" Spooky spoke out first, his voice soft compared to how he was being treated－the contrast was confusing. He couldn't help but open his big mouth every single time, against his own best judgement. "I thought…"
He trailed off, the rest of the thought getting caught in his throat. What did he think? Shame crept up his neck, making the tips of his ears burn in the cold.
"Thought what, hmm?" Blurry mocked, not a hint of empathy in its tone as it leaned in closer and let go of Spooky's hair, its breath ghosting against his lips. "Wanted to wake up next to me, that it?"
Of course it was all a part of a big mind game. Everything was with Blurryface, and that's all it ever would be. Genuinely, Spooky Jim was nearly at his limit with all of this, he couldn't take one more moment of the back and forth. It felt like the only reason he woke up in the mornings was to count down the days until he saw Blurry again; he was depressed.
"I left you with a little present," Blurry purred out into the silent air between them, its inky hands trailing down to pull Spooky's sleeve up just enough, exposing the carved heart and brushing up against it in the process, eliciting a hiss out of him. "Did you like it?"
Spooky could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears. The way Blurry always seemed so unfazed, so uncaring－especially now, as it looked into his soul and mocked him… it pissed him off to no end.
But his eyes traced down his arm, looking over the heart once again, and the heart beating in his chest squeezed like it was grabbed, like it threatened to leap out. It made him so warm, he couldn't help how soft his demeanor became.
He nodded softly, meeting Blurry's eyes again with parted lips and a glassy stare. Why lie? As if he could lie; even if he wanted to, he would always bend to the will of his captor.
Blurry smirked triumphantly in response, its hand trailing up Spooky's body like it was laying claim. It was painstakingly slow, and even in the surrounding darkness he could see the streaks of black appearing on his clothes.
Yet again, the two were repeating yesterday's dance. And what was Spooky going to do about it?
He sniffed. His throat squeezed. Despite every curse he screamed at himself in his own mind, tears were pricking at the corners of his eyes and threatened to fall more with every second that passed. He averted his gaze for a moment, only for Blurry's hand to snake up and grab onto his chin, gently making him look back.
Spooky fucking hated when it got all soft like this, when it touched him like he could break any moment－the emotional whiplash was enough for him to want to spontaneously combust right then and there. He wished it would just slap him across the face, or grab a fistful of his hair, or cruelly kick him in the ribs. Anything would be less confusing than this.
"Why do you keep doing this?" he choked out pathetically, and his body failed him as a single tear fell. The moonlight caught it, and it didn't go unnoticed to Blurryface.
Not one single emotion showed on Blurry's face. No sign of anything, nothing that Spooky could hold on to. Not even an eyebrow twitch, or a smirk. Just completely unreadable. It was making him nauseous.
"Because it's you," it stated simply, like it was just a known fact. With no explanation, like the words were supposed to just make the years of hurt disappear. "It'll always be you."
"Then why the fuck am I not good enough? What do you do when you're not here fucking with me?" Spooky spat out, voice strained. His throat was burning, holding back a waterfall of tears. Another drop fell from his lashes as he sniffed again, fully aware of how stupid he looked. "Why don't you just stay?"
He felt so powerless, so pathetic, the weakest he had ever been. The ground threatened to give out beneath him, and the earth gave him a promise to swallow him whole. That sounded ideal at this point, anything but this. He was unable to do anything but give in to his emotions and let them all spill out. It was embarrassing.
"It's not you," it spoke, a certain weight behind its voice that Spooky just couldn't place. It broke eye contact and let its gaze wander to the tree bark next to his head, trailing off. "I just-"
Before he could even stop himself, Spooky's hand shot up and slapped Blurry across the head, the impact nearly making it lose its balance. The action sent the creature's red beanie flying on to the snow-covered ground, and it was clearly caught off guard enough to look at Spooky with a bewildered look in its eyes and its mouth agape.
"I'm so sick," Spooky yelled out desperately, his fist coming to collide with Blurry's shoulder with all of his strength as he hiccupped from the tears, "and tired," he pushed the other away by its chest, "of this being all I get!"
At this point he was swatting at Blurry uncontrollably, fists flying as he sobbed. And the other didn't even begin to fight back, it just let him. It let him take all his frustration out in this moment, hands resting by its sides as it withheld any true reaction. That was even more confusing; it felt like Spooky was taking his anger out on a brick wall, and it wasn't making him feel any better.
No matter how many times he punched, slapped and hit Blurry like it had done to him countless times before, it did little to fill the void in his heart. He was convinced that void could only be filled by real love from the creature－and that clearly wasn't happening any time soon. He hated being reminded of that.
Blurry kept its stare fixed on Spooky as he hit, swatted and scratched at it. He wasn't holding back, letting his fists communicate what he had failed to speak out for so many years. At some point, its lip even split, an iron crimson painting itself on its lip and bleeding down onto his chin.
Spooky grabbed its painted throat with frantic, bloody hands and pulled it forward suddenly, their foreheads nearly colliding as he yelled out, "Why don't you just fucking kill me already?"
The air around the two went silent for a few long beats, both of their breaths nearly combining into one. It felt like every emotion had boiled over into that outburst, and it washed away in waves with every breath Spooky took.
Inexplicably, a smile crept its way onto Blurry's lips, and it started to laugh.
Frustration seeped out of Spooky's pores as he groaned, letting go of the creature's throat with a push, leaving it stumbling back and catching itself. The leftover blurrypaint on his hands made them tingle in a way that made his skin crawl, and he actually put in the effort to rub it off on his pants this time.
Blurry rubbed at its throat for a moment－both replacing the ink that had lifted in the shape of Spooky's handprints and processing what had just happened－regaining its composure and taking a shallow breath before speaking lowly.
"You don't remember?"
Spooky blinked, and his face reacted by itself, contorting in confusion. The fuck was that supposed to mean?
Blurryface took a short stride forward, face to face with Spooky Jim once again, and he felt like he was being sized up. Like always. He could feel the creature's breath washing over his lips, and they tingled in response, yearning for their home against the other's.
Stop thinking about kissing this fucking thing.
"I did," it spoke lowly, calculated, its tone skin-crawlingly calm as it scanned the other's face with its lifeless eyes, "how do you think you became just like me?"
The words were spoken like they were common knowledge, and no matter how long, how desperately he searched for any sign of this being some sick joke－all that Spooky was met with was a sense of dread and a blank stare from Blurryface. Fear crawled up his spine and settled under his skin like a parasite, cemented there by the creature's apathetic gaze.
"What the fuck are you on about－" Spooky started spilling out, but Blurry quickly ran over his words; it was clear it had no intention to let him speak in the first place.
"He was just too sad, y'know? Too lonely. Spent all day moping around, and I was always so well-fed," it started, words calculated and spoken with a certain edge that made Spooky's stomach turn. "I fed off of his depressive spiral. It made me stronger, it made him weak and wore him thin. Made him pathetic, a lost cause. Ring any bells?"
Spooky's heart pounded like a drum in his ribcage, threatening to slip through the cracks and fall by his feet. He was unnaturally frozen in place, almost hypnotized by the creature's words. Everything was too much, too soon, and he was left with little time to process before the other filled the silence.
"There is just so much negative energy to feed off of from a man whose best friend just took his own life, you know? The more I fed, the more hopeless he became－he wouldn't talk to anyone. I'm almost not convinced that I was the one that killed him in the end.
"All it took was me showing up once. Just once, in his lowest and most desperate moment, proudly wearing the face of the one he missed so badly, and then he was finally mine. He was mine because I made him mine, and I made him you.
"He couldn't take the pain of his beloved Tyler being gone for a second longer, so he penned up a letter and took his own life. It was almost romantic, really－as painful and slow as it was for him, poor guy. Is it all coming back now, Josh?"
The words it spoke so calmly, so casually, felt like knives digging into his insides, carving out his organs and leaving him bleeding out. It felt like his head getting stomped on, his brain spilling out on the snow－because yes, it was coming back.
He was left completely speechless, heart left beating so hard that his body shook with his pulse, entire body burning despite the cold that sinked into his bones. Sweat covered every inch of his skin and he was paralyzed in fear.
"I was a part of Tyler for so long, I knew him so deeply－I knew just how to get you out of Josh," Blurry continued with little care given to Spooky's shaken state, head tilting in an unsettling manner, "and now we're here, Spooky. You couldn't truly die if you wanted to, not in any meaningful way－"
"Stop talking," Spooky suddenly hissed out in a bout of adrenaline, pushing Blurry back with his palms－to no avail, as it instantly snapped back and pushed up against him with a cocky smirk, closer than they were before. The creature was clearly unfazed.
"Make me."
Those two words－which would normally make Spooky spring into action without hesitation, instead made his stomach turn in ways he couldn't fully understand. He grew nauseous, and his mouth filled up with saliva like it was preparing for the worst.
Blurry's hand crawled up his chest, lingering on the front of his neck for a moment before its fingers prodded at his lips. He would be stupid to think the thing was asking for permission－it never did any other time, it always just did whatever it pleased. It was simply a warning.
Before he could protest, it shoved two digits past his lips, and the taste of bitter ink overpowered his senses immediately. The ground felt like it was going to collapse beneath him and he couldn't do anything to save himself. Couldn't do anything but just take it and accept the world starting to morph around him.
The ink flowed freely off of the creature's fingers, and every time that Spooky thought the onslaught was over, he swallowed even more of the bitter paint. His hand came up and gripped－almost clawed－at Blurry's wrist as a last, desperate effort to get away, and he writhed pathetically as he was held in place.
He just wanted to think. That's all he wanted. A clear mind, for once. But when he was with Blurryface, he couldn't think for himself－wasn't allowed to think for himself if the creature had any say in it. A pitiful existence.
"Shhh, you can take it, just shut your mind off," Blurry cooed, so deeply condescending that it made Spooky's body burn with shame－a sensation he had grown used to at this point.
He was sick of it and wanted to pin his skin in place so it would finally stop fucking crawling.
Spooky bit down with as much strength and will as he could muster up in his woozy state, and it actually startled Blurryface－it ripped its fingers out of his mouth in response and shook its hand around, clearly taken aback by the pain.
He choked on the bitter flavor left behind by the creature's fingers, and he almost wanted to rub the ink off of his tongue, not wanting to put up with a second longer of this. It would be hopeless though, it was already making him feel intoxicated. It was too late.
He was so dizzy, the world had begun spinning around him the second he woke up. It came back in waves, always worsened by the cursed ink, and it was at its peak in this moment. It was as if sharing the same air with Blurry drained him and fucked with his judgement, and the key to his undoing undoubtedly dripped from its masterful fingers.
"I know you want to, I know you're thinking about it," Blurry whispered, tone velvety as its thumb snuck up to smear ink against Spooky's lower lip in a single swipe, "you seemed pretty eager to kiss me yesterday, pup."
The pet name unfortunately ran straight to his dick, and suddenly it felt like every inch of his skin was burning. Blurry's presence was suffocating him. His body reacted in ways he didn't want it to, and he could feel himself actively falling deeper and deeper into a hole, falling into the creature's gravitational pull hopelessly.
The worst thing about everything is that Spooky knew his obsession wasn't solely because of all of the blurrypaint－from the second he came into existence, he was obsessed with Blurry's entire being. Obsessed with the idea of pleasing it and always running back to it in the end.
It had to have been residual feelings left over from Josh, buried somewhere deep within him. Somewhere he just couldn't reach.
The memories that flashed through his mind from Josh's life were so vague, nothing he could truly hold on to. But he remembered Tyler. He remembered who Blurry was before, even if it was the faintest projection. That had to have been why no matter how hard he tried－he just couldn't rip himself from Blurry's side.
The two were doomed eternally, and Spooky knew it would be the end of him.
"They were in love, you know? Never said anything about it, too scared," Blurry taunted lowly, inching closer to the trembling man in front of him as it whispered, "are you too scared to admit it, Spooky?"
With that, the creature finally closed the barely-there gap between them, the kiss considerably softer than the one they shared the day prior. It was slow, calculated, and it made Spooky's skin crawl－partially because he accepted it. He always would, whether he fought it or not.
He would accept anything Blurry gave him for the rest of their meaningless lives, as long as he got something.
Spooky returned the kiss eagerly, hands coming up to grab onto the front of Blurry's hoodie－and he gripped onto the fabric like the creature would cease to exist if he let go. Blurry's tongue swiped across his bottom lip and he parted his lips gently, offering access.
It was like they had done this countless times before, the way the two melted into each other so effortlessly. Like they'd had the chance to learn the other's lips, or as if they were molded to each other from the start. If it weren't for the circumstances, Spooky would almost consider it romantic. But this was all so new, so sudden, and it scared him so deeply.
Blurry bit down on his bottom lip with painful force before its tongue started exploring, unapologetic and unrelenting in the way it claimed every inch it could reach. The taste of its own bitter ink lingered in Spooky's mouth, and the resulting arousal shot right between its legs as a soft whimper rose from its throat.
Spooky took the lull in their entanglement as a chance to grab onto Blurry's shoulders and turn them around, switching their positions so it was pressed against the tree instead－so he could feel like he was in power for a brief moment. It let out a soft yelp, clearly surprised by the action, but it melted into the other's control for a split second.
Hips pressed against hips, chest to chest, beating heart to beating heart; it was almost too much. He was drunk on Blurryface and felt like he would die without this. He gripped onto the fabric of Blurry's hoodie like his life depended on it.
The push and pull was undoubtedly and absolutely sickening, but Spooky would never get enough of it. He would always yearn for this, for the dizzying confusion of whatever the two had going on. Whether that was the blurrypaint speaking or not, he simply didn't care anymore. His tongue explored Blurry's mouth, drinking up every second of their closeness.
When they finally pulled away, it took a few moments for their eyes to open, instead choosing to bask in the moment as their breaths synced. Spooky didn't look away for a second, keeping his gaze fixed on Blurry's face and scanning every inch.
Its lips were puffy and covered in spit, an erotic sight inherently that had Spooky's pants feeling a bit too tight. He could've sworn he saw a slight smile creep its way onto Blurry's face before they were suddenly flipped around again, his back up against the tree where he was before. Cornered with no escape, once again.
The air was silent, neither of them uttering a single word－just softly breathing in sync, staring at each other like there was so much to be said. Yet, neither of them would ever speak up, and there was a palpable charge in the air that felt inescapable as a result.
Blurry dug into its back pocket, pulling out a beat up pocket knife and making a show of flipping it open dramatically. The moonlight shone off of the edge, showing dried blood－his dried blood, unmistakably left over from the heart carved in his wrist－resting on the blade.
The creature's eyes traced the weapon, laced with a silent threat before finding their way back to Spooky's face.
He shivered when their eyes met, and if there wasn't a voice screaming at him from deep within that he wanted it all over with, that he actually wanted to die right now, he would be afraid of the creature in front of him. However, with how things were going for him as of late, he decided he would accept whatever the knife brought him.
Blurry slowly dropped to its knees without breaking eye contact, hands dragging on the front of Spooky's clothes the entire way down－and his breath caught in his throat, completely and utterly enthralled. It wasn't typically one to submit, to put itself in a vulnerable position, so the action itself made Spooky's head spin.
He watched intently as the creature dropped so slowly, so calculated. Its skilled, dark hands lifted his hoodie only slightly to get access to the button of his jeans. Just enough to rile him up, of course; Blurry chose every action carefully to fuck with him the most, reveling in each and every reaction.
The creature looked up through its eyelashes, not once losing Spooky's gaze. Its eyes shone bright in the dim moonlight, the red piercing through the darkness and aiming directly at Spooky's soul. Its inky hands worked at his jeans, mouth hanging open in wait in a manner that was just obscene. Like everything else this thing beneath him did.
Sometimes he hoped that he was the only one that got to see Blurry this slutty; the only one to make it feel like this in the first place.
His breath hitched again when Blurry finally grabbed onto the waistband of his boxers along with his jeans and pulled them down slightly, just enough for his cock to spring free. The cold air immediately made him hiss, his hand going to card through Blurry's short hair.
There were beads of precum at the tip－he had already begun leaking in his pants, as embarrassing as that was. He was so hard that he was surprised he was still upright, every throb from his neglected cock sending electricity through his veins. He needed something.
Then he both saw and felt as the knife was lifted up to his abdomen, resting a few inches above the base of his length. The cold, sharp edge of the metal bit into his skin like frostbite as it was pressed there ever so slightly. Just enough to put him in his place. He gasped, his hips pulling back instinctively only to be met with the tree behind him.
No escape.
"Shhh, just take it," Blurry whispered quietly, its breath hot and humid on Spooky's neglected dick.
It slowly raised its free hand and took his length into its fist, giving him a few slow and experimental strokes. Its eyes bore holes through Spooky's skull as it made sure to study every single reaction, every rise and fall of his chest. Every flick of its wrist, every rub of its thumb was one step closer to his undoing, and it was driving him insane.
This was potentially the hottest thing that had ever happened to Spooky, and he was so hard he felt like he could pass out. His knees nearly buckled, a pathetic whimper leaving his lips as the blurrypaint was slicked onto his length. Even in the darkness of their surroundings, the deep shadowy shade of the ink contrasted so heavily with his pale skin. It made him feel so sensitive, combined with the wetness of Blurry's hand－he felt like he was going to explode.
His hips stuttered forward instinctively, only to be met with the cold blade finally biting into his skin. He could feel it break the flesh, leaving a sharp sting in its wake, and he sucked in a breath, chewing on his bottom lip. The blood was the least of his worries, all he cared about was getting off and making this moment last as long as possible.
When Blurry suddenly pushed the blade further into the fresh cut, halting its ministrations for a moment to look up at Spooky with its glowing eyes, he stopped immediately. He froze in place, hips immediately pressing back against the tree, and he was begging Blurry to continue in his mind, but in reality he failed to utter anything other than a pathetic whine.
The air went silent, Spooky tensing up completely as he stared and waited. He was completely at the mercy of this thing, completely wrapped around its finger without any escape in sight. It was intoxicating, and Spooky never wanted to come down from it.
Blurry slowly brought his dick up to the side of its mouth, smirking while it tapped the tip to the outside of its cheek a few times. A tease, like always, and it made his jaw lay open in anticipation.
"What is it, Spooky?" it purred out, voice velvety and low as it leaned in closer to him. "You seem nervous."
Spooky gulped, opening his mouth to speak－but whatever words he tried to say were interrupted by a strangled moan as Blurry skillfully swiped the blade across his abdomen, faster than he could process. Not deep enough to cause any serious damage, but deep enough to start dripping blood down his body, and it got to Spooky so badly that he actually twitched against Blurry's cheek.
Blurry hummed at the sight and feeling, clearly pleased with the art piece it had created and the reaction elicited from Spooky. The blade then swiftly returned to its previous position, held against Spooky's stomach as a silent, unspoken threat. It slowly opened its mouth as it kept eye contact, making a show of the spit strings that it produced and sticking its tongue out like a fucking slut.
Spooky wondered if the creature ever actually felt shame, but he had a sneaking suspicion the answer was a resounding no. It was obsessed with putting a show, always having the attention and the spotlight. And it was working－he yearned for the warmth of its mouth so badly that it made him look stupid, he was completely and utterly enthralled.
It finally positioned itself right in front of his leaking, red tip, on its knees waiting so patiently. It was taking its sweet time on purpose, dragging out every moment of this that it could. Keeping any semblance of control that it could, and the contrast was dizzying. And it looked so pretty, too.
The sight of it on its knees so eager to please was insane to Spooky. So unbelievably erotic－he knew, or at the very least hoped the image would be imprinted in his memory forever. Blurry tapped the tip against its warm tongue a few times, pulling a whimper out of Spooky's throat before it closed its mouth around his cock like it was claiming its prize. It never looked away once, no matter how filthy the performance.
It drove Spooky mad. He watched Blurry closely as it took more of his cock into its warm, welcoming mouth before pulling off with a vulgar pop. A string of spit connected from its mouth to the tip, so insanely erotic to witness. It swished the saliva around in its mouth for a moment before opening up wide again, letting it drip off its tongue. The clear liquid was mixed with blurrypaint, lewdly dripping onto the ground.
Holy fuck.
Spooky whined desperately, his knees threatening to buckle from beneath him. It was like his mind was being picked apart－everything Blurry was doing was unraveling him. He was met with a predatory smirk from the creature beneath him, and it let the spit drip down onto his dick before taking it back into its mouth even deeper than before, cleansing him of even more of the ink that was left behind.
If only it could cleanse him of his sins. Maybe then he would have an actual chance at getting into heaven, but he knew better than to hope for that. Blurryface's inky hands would always drag him back into hell.
He had no idea what it was about this blurrypaint that was so erotic, that he was so obsessed with－but watching Blurry ingest its own ink, especially directly off of him like this, was causing his mind to run wild. He watched as the very same ink that controlled him swirled around in its spit, becoming one and being used to undo him.
His hand instinctively shot up to rest on the top of Blurry's head, his fingers lightly combing through its hair. Just experimenting, searching for stability as the sensations made his entire being feel weightless. He watched closely as Blurry's gaze narrowed up at him for a fleeting moment, but then it just gave him a slight nod of permission.
Huh?
Blurry stopped for a moment, the hand that held the blade briefly leaving its home by his stomach to reach for Spooky's hand. It smeared the shadowy ink onto his flesh before pushing its own head, not once breaking eye contact. The knife then returned to rest even lower, just below the cut it had made, and Spooky could almost feel the frigid bite of the metal against his dick.
God, this thing would be the death of him for a second time tonight. He was sure of it.
He got the message and took control for once, and it didn't come naturally to him. Not at all. Not even a little bit, control felt completely foreign. The knife being held to his stomach was still a silent promise, a sign that one miscalculation could be deadly, but he was being given a taste of control. And he was slowly beginning to feel drunk on it.
Spooky hesitantly pushed Blurry's head forward, his fingers gripping onto its hair with more urgency. He couldn't help the moans that bubbled past his lips as he watched spit and blurrypaint gather on the edges of the creature's lips and felt the warmth of its mouth slowly envelop the rest of him. He was already so sensitive, it was almost too much. He set a steady rhythm and couldn't help but hold back.
His hand was tingling where it was smeared with the ink, and it was like it had a mind of its own as his pace quickened, finally letting him use Blurry's pretty mouth. It was too much－too many firsts lately, and he could tell the blurrypaint made him pliable, but he was absolutely drunk on the feeling. Spooky never wanted any of this to end.
A whimper left his lips and he put all of the self restraint he could muster into keeping his hips in place against the rough tree bark, the blood from the recent cut dripping down and reminding him of the consequences. This was so unreal, he almost didn't care about the consequences.
His hand began doing all the work, and he pushed Blurry deeper and deeper until the creature had its nose buried in the curly hairs at the base of his cock. It took every inch, tongue flattened against the sensitive vein that ran down his shaft. The feeling was absolutely insane－it took his dick so well, like its mouth was made for this.
"Oh my god－fuck, Blurry," Spooky moaned out, pulling it back to then continue his pace and abuse on the creature's throat while it seemed so unfazed, eyes boring holes through his skull. "Shit－feels so good, you're so fucking good…"
Blurry let out a whorish moan, eyebrows furrowed, finally giving the reaction that Spooky was searching for, and the vibrations were enough to make a familiar heat start to rise in his core. He chased it, rhythm faltering for a moment only for Blurry to pick up the slack, being so good and taking everything Spooky was giving it.
Blurry kept going－up and down, sucking at the tip and flattening its tongue on the most sensitive spots until it was almost too much to take. Spooky could feel every sensation rising to a peak, his back arched in anticipation. Then it pulled off of him just at that moment, ripping the impending release out from under Spooky's feet.
The hand with the knife finally dropped, the weapon falling to the cold, hard ground, and Spooky let out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding－more of a whine, considering how wound up he was. He mourned the loss of the warmth of its mouth for a brief moment, but the disappointment was taken over the second he saw Blurry line itself up, mouth open wide and waiting, inky hand stroking him at an unrelenting pace.
God. The sight was enough to do it, and before long Spooky found himself teetering over the edge, his climax washing over him so strongly that he could've sworn he just died again. His release painted Blurry's tongue lewdly, and a deep groan pushed past his lips as he watched the creature put on a performance.
It made sure he saw as it closed its mouth and swallowed every last drop, not wanting to waste a single speck of its reward. The creature savored, and once it was done it revealed that there was nothing left. The sight itself made Spooky whimper embarrassingly.
It panted－almost pathetically, it made Spooky's dick twitch with want－and peered up at him like it was absolutely wrecked. Eyes glassy, face flushed and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Only then did he notice Blurry squirming in place, legs squeezed together.
Oh.
It continued stroking him a few times, the high lingering and making his skin tingle. Its wrist flicked and twisted as it furrowed its eyebrows at him, spit-slicked lips shining in the moonlight. Lips parted and everything. It looked so desperate.
"Hit me, please," Blurryface pleaded, eyes watering in the moonlight, chest rising and falling as it squirmed in its place. It was searching for any sort of friction, but it wasn't enough. "I need it…"
The way it begged him was so unbelievably whorish, so shameless, so filled with need and Spooky almost could cum again just from hearing the way its voice cracked. Whether it was fake or not, calculated or organic－he needed to hear more of it and indulge more in the sin. Yet another first, but one he could quickly grow addicted to.
Spooky raised his hand in a blur and a flash, swinging it down on the side of Blurry's head, nearly as hard as it had hit him the day before. It let out a whorish moan, regained its composure, and looked up at him all woozy. He grabbed a handful of its hair to get a closer look, eliciting a whine out of the other.
So fucked out looking and he hadn't even touched the thing. Its fist never once stopped stroking him, so warm and wet and eager to please, and all of the sensations were so overwhelming. He could die happily after this, he was sure of it.
His hand let go of Blurry's hair with a push and raised again to collide with its cheek, the impact sending its head flying to the side. The sound reverberated through the atmosphere around them. It practically whimpered, legs squeezing together and eyes slamming closed as it bit down on its bottom lip. It rocked its hips steadily, chasing friction from the seam of its jeans.
One more slap from Spooky－hard enough to leave a mark, on the opposite cheek－and it was gone, moaning so loud as it came hard enough it saw stars. Its grip and rhythm faltered for a moment as its entire being tensed up, caught in a state of absolute bliss.
So it just came untouched just from being slapped around a little. Okay. Spooky would be thinking about that for a while, and the image of his captor cumming that hard would be burned into his retinas until the day he finally died died.
Being so caught up in the moment, he almost didn't notice the heat rising in his core again as it picked its rhythm back up. A second release threatened to spill over the edge, creeping up on him and catching him off guard. Blurry looked so pretty coming down from its high－eyes half-lidded, lips parted, so fucking needy… he couldn't take it.
It opened its mouth wide once again in wait, this time positioning itself further away as it brought Spooky to the peak again. He came stronger than the first time, if that was even possible, and his release shot out and painted Blurry's features. Only some landed in its mouth, the rest decorating its face like a veil. Exactly where it wanted it.
It looked so pretty. Gorgeous, even, with the moonlight enhancing its features, with his release covering its face. Looking up at him with those eyes.
Feelings were bubbling up in Spooky's stomach, mostly shame. Regret almost bloomed within him, but once Blurry took Spooky's wrist gently and used his hand to gather all of his release, the regret was immediately gone. He watched as the other sucked all of the cum off of his fingers, then finally lifted off of its knees.
The fantasy was over－Spooky could already feel his reality crumbling in front of him, and he took the time that Blurry used rising to its feet to tuck his still half-hard cock back in his boxers.
Shame.
He was preparing himself for the worst, ready to be mocked and laughed at. It was what happened every time, why would this time be any different? He stared for every second that passed as Blurry finally got to his level, watched every single facial expression. His mouth grew dry.
Don't leave.
Blurry broke eye contact as it scanned the ground around them, gaze landing on the knife from earlier. It bent over and picked it up slowly, strangely calm. Spooky traced every movement, and only then did his mind finally clue in to the gash on his stomach. It burned, stung, the feeling of the dried blood was becoming more and more prominent, but he didn't care.
Please stay.
If it left again, after all of this, Spooky would start looking for ways to kill himself. He had never considered it so seriously before, but with the events of yesterday and now this－he couldn't imagine wallowing in his own emotions for one second longer. Maybe pills would do it? Bleeding out?
I'll do anything.
Blurryface stared at the bloodied knife then looked back up at Spooky, expression unreadable. Not a hint of anything, as nauseating as it was. It grabbed his wrist, pulled his fingers away from his palm, and placed the handle of the knife in his hand.
If you want me to kill myself, I will.
It let go of the knife, relinquishing it to Spooky in a simple motion; but his fingers didn't close around it. His heart was racing, pounding in his ears relentlessly. He looked up to its eyes, searching for answers, but there were none to be found. The creature just calmly lifted its sleeve, took Spooky's free hand, and placed its wrist down in his palm.
Please let this be it.
Spooky looked up, down, up, down－glaring between its wrist and its eyes, so unbelievably confused. Unable to connect the dots, frozen like a deer in headlights.
"Like yours," it whispered simply, head nodding towards his wrist that had the heart carved into it the night before. "Your initials."
His heart soared－he felt like he could levitate up off of his feet in this moment. There was no way this was happening. His lips parted softly and his fingers closed around the handle of the knife, shifting it around to grip onto it properly and taking a moment to just stare at it. Was he going to do this?
"Do it."
Spooky Jim took one more decisive look up at Blurryface, and when he was met with a nod, he got to work. No questions asked.
The creature didn't so much as wince as the knife broke its flesh, just bit down on its lip, and the two both watched as black ink dripped out from the wound. It was unlike anything he'd ever seen before, and it was gorgeous.
The shadowy ink painted the ground as he finished the heart, positioned the same way that his was done. Just as messy as the one he had. He looked up for a quick moment, unsure of what he was looking for, and his eyes were met with the sight of Blurry shedding one tear. A single tear.
The drop was gray, and it left a noticeable streak down its face as it ran down. Spooky felt like that wasn't meant for him to see, so his head quickly snapped down to look at the heart again, regaining his composure before he carved his initials with care and precision.
SJ. Right in the middle of the heart, emulating what Blurry had done to his wrist. It dripped black down the creature's arm, streaking onto its hoodie.
Then, finally, it was done. Matching hearts, with the initials of the other in the center. Flaunting whatever it was that they had.
Don't go.
Spooky looked up at Blurry like it was his entire world, and it took a moment to meet his gaze. The single tear streak shone in the moonlight, and it almost hurt his heart. Almost. The memories of all of the nights and all of the days he spent crying over the creature flooding back soothed the hurt, just for now.
It held his hand, carving touching carving as their wrists pressed together. The wet, cold feeling of Blurry's black blood ran down Spooky's arm, and it felt like home. It felt like everything could possibly be okay between the two of them. Blurry pressed its body up against Spooky's, sharing the little warmth that it did have in the frigid air of the outside.
It nuzzled into his shoulder, rubbing its nose into the bite mark from the day before and melting into his embrace as it grabbed onto his hoodie.
"Come with me," it whispered, voice low and wavering. It almost sounded unsure. "I'll take you with me when I disappear."
And with that, the floodgates opened. Spooky let out a quiet sob, his head falling forward to rest on Blurry's shoulder as the two intertwined. He nodded before he could even say yes, but the answer was known either way. Unspoken, but known.
It was obvious from the very beginning that Spooky would follow Blurry into hell. So, that he did, his arms wrapping around Blurry the second that he could feel his being start to fade away. He could feel Blurry start to fade away with him, and the two didn't let go of each other as they faded together.
He hoped he wasn't making a mistake.
And Blurryface was finally sure of something, for the first time in its so-called life.