Five Ticks 'Til I'm Yours (Dark Ticci Toby x Reader)

Setting the Ground Rules

You weren't entirely sure what to think as Toby led you through the mansion. Perhaps mansion wasn't the right word, when you think of a mansion you think of something lavish and luxurious. This place was neither of those things, instead it was quite the opposite. It looked unsettling, empty, and quite creepy to be honest. The walls were chipped and dark, the occasional stains making you wonder what in the world went on in this place. Well, you actually had a few ideas about what went on. It didn't take much for you to notice the dark red drops on the wooden floors, or the old, torn-up furniture. Most of the lights didn't work or were missing, but you did vaguely notice sound and luminescence coming from certain rooms, not that you got close enough to investigate.

Toby had a very particular way of guiding you. Instead of leading the way like you expected, he walked behind you, casually telling you when to turn right, when to go left, when to move towards the stairs. Yes, that's right, stairs. You were walking up the staircase at this very moment, not appreciating how confining it was. With the railings on one side, creaking wood below you, and a psychopath blocking you from behind, you had no other choice but to comply.

From what you had heard and seen so far you were certain of one thing. There were a lot of people in this... estate, yeah, let's call it an estate. Thought you couldn't see them all, you saw traces of their existence everywhere. From the sounds of televisions, to the hushed chattering and the occasional room lights being switched off. The only question in your mind was who they were. More killers like Toby and Jeff? Or perhaps more victims like you? No, wait, you remembered the officers when you were at the hospital. They had told you how odd it was for the killers to be kidnapping, that they usually murdered their victims.

You were all alone in a house of monsters, weren't you?

"Turn r-right, se-second door." He awkwardly cleared his throat, and you didn't bother turning to look at him as you followed the order. Your feet, which were quite tired from trekking through the woods, obediently made their way down the hall. You kept your eyes on the unstable looking wooden floors, occasionally peeking at the walls from the corner of your eyes. There were no paintings or decorations, but the walls did seem a lot cleaner on the upper levels.

"Are there people here....?" You asked the question with a bit of uncertainty, wondering if he minded you speaking. "I mean... people like me."

"Open the door." Was his only response, and not daring to disobey you followed his order. The room was a bedroom of sorts, and surprisingly quite tidy. It wasn't anything lavish or extravagant, instead it was pretty plain. There was a queen-sized mattress on a thin, metal bedframe against a wall. In the corner of the room sat two sets of those cheap, plastic drawers you could buy at Wal Mart. By the looks of it they were filled to the brim with clothes and other smaller things you couldn't quite recognize. Other than that, you noticed a dark but hefty duffel bag sticking out from under the bed, across from it was another door in the wall, you assumed the bathroom. All in all, it wasn't how you'd decorate your room, but at least there weren't blood stains littering the floors.

"Walk." His voice was rather quiet, but with a deep sigh you did as he said. He walked into the room as well, moving past you, his hands in his pockets as he moved towards the center of the floor. "Close the d-d... door."

That particular request was a little difficult, your eyes were staring at the door knob as if it dictated your survival. Were you really ready to seal yourself in a room with a known serial killer? A killer who in the past has shown you just how vicious he could be? Your hand trembled at the thought, the absence of your finger impossible to miss. It took a minute of silent struggle before you finally slammed the door close.

Next you turned to him, wondering if he was annoyed, angry maybe? No, he wasn't. His brown eyes just stared at you in the calm way he did. What was his deal anyways? You weren't an idiot, you knew there was no affection or sympathy for you in his eyes. You were smarter than that. Proven serial killers don't go soft on their victims all of a sudden after a few days. Silently you considered the possibilities. Was it because you were a woman? Was it a sexual attraction? You'd find soon enough, after all you had just locked yourself in a room with him, a bedroom at that too. If he was looking for some sexual satisfaction you really could do nothing but comply. What would fighting get you? Another slap to the face? Maybe he'll take another finger?