Yandere & Dark Writings

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Everyday, even before you arrived in town, Joey was hired as a farmhand for your aunt, tending to animals and mucking the horses. He took pride in his work, and it only furthered his position as a town darling. When you arrived, despite your arrogance and clear disgust at your new life, he feels that you just need to see how great it is to live in a community like this. Joey hadn't really ever felt anything serious for the girls from town, and some would even say he didn't seem like the romantic type. This was far from the truth, as it was plain as day what he wanted when he would go doe-eyed at the preachers sermons on marriage, and god's purpose for it. He hasn't relented since he met you. Flowers, offering you baked goods, offering to do your chores, whatever you need to get him on your good side. Frankly, you can't stand him. It's not that you hate him persay, but you want nothing to do with this community of red-necks, and you would NEVER sink so low as kissing one of these country bumpkins sons.

Joey hops up the porch with a grin, adjusting the strap of his overalls as he approaches you. 'Aunt May, please hurry up and give him his chores already!' You think, trying to suppress rolling your eyes. "Mornin', stranger!" He teases. "It's a nice morning, sun's not too hot neither..." You nod, trying to simply wait out the conversation. He waits for you to speak, and when you don't, he sighs, but is happy to do the talking. "I'm glad I ran into you, I hadn't seen ya the last few times I visited. I-I sure hope you're not avoidin' me!" He laughs awkwardly, his grin faltering a little when you don't deny that this was your intention. He clears his throat, and quickly turns around, grabbing something from his back pocket. He thrusts his hand out, and a bundle of mixed flowers and weeds rests in it, still covered in dirt. You look disgusted at the half-dead bouquet.

"I don't want that." You say. His hand shakes a little, and he rubs the back of his neck with his free-hand. "Yeah, I understand. I was actually riding Maisie this morning, and by the time I saw these out in the field, she'd trampled right over em' with her hooves." He tosses the bouquet away over the porch, and it falls apart immediately upon impact with the ground. "It was stupid a' me to think ya'd like em'. Worth a shot though!" You open your mouth to retort, but before you can your aunt finally comes to the porch.

"Mornin' Ma'am!" Joey greets, and she responds sweetly, before pointing out a few things round the farm from her spot on the porch she'd like him to get done. He nods, and after grabbing the toolbox he'd always leave by the stairs, he sets off. You decide you've had enough off outside for today, and head back inside, placing your now empty glass on the counter.

Several hours go by, and as you flick through the channels on the tv, (most of which are static due to the terrible signal out here), you hear your aunt call you from the kitchen. As you enter, you can see she's finishing preparing lunch, a salad bowl to her left and a knife in her hand. Her free hands steadies some lettuce on the cutting board. "Hiya kiddo', how's your day been so far?" She asks. You don't hate your aunt, and lie to protect her feelings. "Fine. Just fine." You lean against the counter. "That poor McCall boy has been out there all mornin', hasn't even come in to ask for a glass of water." She sighs. You roll your eyes. "Be a dear and bring him this sandwich, would ya?" You want to say no more than anything, but when your aunt raises her brow and gives you that look, you quickly take the plate and scurry out to the barn.

As you approach, the sound of hammering and heavy breathing can be heard. As you enter, you see Joey trying to patch the gate on one of the horse-stalls. It seems he sent the horses out into the field, as the barn is empty save for you and him. "My aunt wanted you to have some lunch." You say coldly, placing the plate on top of a turned-over bucket which you considered to be the only place clean enough for it. Joey looks up, eyes wide in appreciation. "Well, thank ya' very much! I'll admit, I've been getting might hungry sittin' out here tryna' fix this darned gate." He huffs. He thinks it's a problem with the hinge. You let out a 'hmm', in response, and begin to leave, when Joey abruptly hops up and grabs your wrist. As soon as he sees your face change to one of disgust and shock, he recoils.

"Sorry to spook ya', I just wanted to ask you something before ya' ran of like ya' always do..." He places the hammer down, and his hands come to fidget at his side. "There's a party being held soon, outside the church. It's a picnic on the lawn sorta' thing, we have one every year. It's a real big deal." You raise an eyebrow. "I guess what I'm tryna' ask is if you'd considering going with me? I could show ya' around, help you meet some of the other townsfolk. Hell' ya' could even meet my sisters! I bet ya'd get along swell." His smile become shy, his freckle disappearing into his skin as a bright red blush covers his face. He hopes you think it's just a sunburn. You sigh, and shake your head. "I'm sorry, Joey. I don't think so..." You say. He frowns, but quickly nods. "Nah, I get it. It's kind of a big event. Maybe we could start with something smaller, maybe just the two of us? Say- I know a real nice spot north of the creek, I could take ya down there, a-and we could-" You let out a loud groan, and stomp your foot.

"No, Joey! It's not that I don't want trampled flowers, or I don't want to go to some big event with all you hick's, it's that I don't want you!" You exclaim. His face falls immediately, that light in his eyes extinguished like squashing one of the fire flies you'd see in the fields on a hot evening. "What..." He mumbles, shaking his head a little. "I don't want to date some small-town guy, okay! I don't even want to be in this town. I have a life back in the city, where I belong. Shit, I've got a BOYFRIEND!" You yell. His sadness at your rejection falls for a minute, and he seems to freeze his panicked breaths. "Ya- Ya' gotta' beau already?" He asks, his voice trembling as he swallows heavily. "A beau? What the hell does that mean, some kind of country talk? Yes, I have a boyfriend, and a very handsome one from the city at that." You sneer, turning your nose up at the boy.

"He pretty?" Joey mumbles, licking his lips as his gaze falls to the floor. You raise an eyebrow at the odd question. "Yes, he's very handsome." You respond. "S' got a lotta' money?" He asks. You nod again, not bringing yourself to be able to speak at Joeys sudden change in demeanor. When Joey does finally look up again, his face is no longer blushing red, but red with shame and embarrassment. Tears prick at the corners of his eyes. "W-well, it ain't gonna work out. I know how boys from the city are. They only want one thing from girls... that's what the preacher says." He points out the barn door. "You know Peggy, from the grocery store? She went and ran off with a boy from the city once. H-he knocked her up and left her alone, no where else to go. She came back to town, and she eventually married my brother Samuel. She always says he's the best thing that happened to her. He saved her..." Joey whimpers, his fist trembling at his side. You scoff. "Please, boys from the city have plenty to offer-" He cuts you off. "MORE THAN ME?!" He yells, a sob cracking his voice. "Have you done it with your pretty beau? Has he made you feel good?" You gasp, shocked at his vulgar question. "I don't have to tell you that..." You exclaim. "I'm not asking, I'm tellin' you to tell me." His voice is now filled with an equal tone of contempt, though you don't think it's direct at you, but rather the image of your boyfriend he's conjured up in his head. "He has. We've had sex before, he was my first." You say, swallowing nervously as you try to stand your ground.

"Then lemme ask you one more thing..." Joey huffs. "Is he gonna' marry you? Get ya' a nice house, some pretty dresses, keep ya' safe?" You shrug. "Uh, we're only twenty, we don't need to think about that." Joey shakes his head. "Cause'... Cause' that's what I'd do for ya'. Get you a nice ring, somethin' to match all your pretty dresses and clothes from the city. I'd build ya' a house right on my ma and pa's land, make sure we're still close to the family, but still give us some privacy..." He swallows harshly, taking a few steps towards you. "But most of all, I'd make sure you were safe, safe from any city boy who'd try to get off in ya' and then leave." He's now only a few inches from you. "And I intend to do that." He whispers.

You gasp as his calloused hands grab your wrists, turning you around to face the barn wall. He frees one of his hands up and moves to the stall door he was working on, bumping it open with his hips and shutting it behind the two of you. "L-Let go you brute! Get off of me!" You yell. He rips the red patterned bandanna he usually wears around his neck to keep the sun off, and quickly shoves the cloth in between your pretty, soft lips. As you try to kick, your feet only seem to bounce off the boys firm chest. "That's one thing about us farm boys, we're pretty strong. Firm, ya' know?" He whispers. He forces you to turn over, and you sit on the floor of the stall with your back to the wooden wall of the barn. Joey fumbles around, looking for something. His hand brushes across a rough rope for leading the horses mixed into the hay of the stall, and in just a few moments your hands are bound up to a horse feeder, just above your head. You whine through the gag, tears beginning to fall down your face. He shakes his head.

"Nah, c'mon now... don't cry. It's gonna be okay, I promise ya'." He whispers, brushing away one of your tears with the pad of his thumb. "Don't be scared, I'm not gonna do anything that hurts ya', I just wanna prove to you how good I can be. I realise, I can give you all the things that I said earlier, but... but I know the one thing that city boys have given you." Your eyes widen when you understand his words. He smiles softly. "I know the pastor says we should wait till' marriage, but I kinda need to convince ya' to marry me, and I know now to do that I have to prove that I can give everything some city boy can, and more." His hand comes to rest on your knee, before he uses the palm of his hand to bunch up the fabric of your pink skirt, now smudged with dirt. "Sorry about the location, didn't want anyone to see us. I-I'll buy ya' another dress after this, one even prettier, okay?" He says. Hiking up your skirt, your trembling thighs are visible to him, and the sheer lace of your panties allows him to see you without even taking them off. "Wow, I've never seen something as pretty as this..." His fingers trace the top of the lace, brushing your outer lips slightly. Despite your fear, the contact with a sensitive spot makes you whimper through the makeshift gag. "Maybe I don't wanna get ya' a new dress, maybe I want to see ya' in more of these." He laughs a little, rubbing the back of his neck.

His rough hands try to pull down the fabric around your womanhood, though your resistance makes it hard. Eventually, he groans and simply rips the lace in two, tucking it into the pocket of his overalls. "Surely, since this is damaged now, ya' won't need it." He mumbles. He toys with just the fabric in his hands for a moment, his curiosity evident, before he turns back to you. "I'm gonna get a look at ya', okay? See what exactly a pretty girl like you is workin' with." He roughly slots himself in between your knees, making closing them impossible. His large fingers part your folds, giving him a full view of your moist, aroused pussy. He bites his lip, letting out what can only be described as whimper. "G-geez, darlin'. This is definently better than them' health videos they used to show us in the schoolhouse..." He sighs. Joey's face falls for a moment, suddenly insecure.

"I guess you'll be wanting to see me now, too." He removes one hand from your inner thigh, and unclasps the shoulder straps of his overalls. "I-I'll admit, I know there's a little more to all this, but I only really know the basics, so I'm gonna show ya' what I know how to do. Rest assured though, I'm a quick learner." He stammers. His hand is shaking, and it takes several seconds for him to even undo one button on his overalls. Eventually, they fall, resting just below his wait. He lifts his button up shirt slightly, revealing a pair of briefs, and a very prominent bulge. He blushes as he looks down at it, and your eyes widen at the size. "Y'know, I've never had to deal with these before I met ya'. But, sometimes I go home and thinkin' of you is the only way to get em' to go away." His face is even redder with shame. He pulls the briefs down, allowing his cock to spring free. It's thick, and veiny. Somehow, it's freckled, much like his face. He spits into his hand, shivering as he rubs it down his length. "Sorry I don't have something better than my spit. I know it's kinda' gross, but, we are doin' it in a barn." He pulls his hips forward a little, rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance, which against your will is now soaked with arousal. "See, I've already got you wet, I can do whatever that boyfriend back home can do for ya'." He says.

"Listen, I know ya'd said you've had sex with him, but I know it can still hurt a little. So, I promise to be real gentle with ya'." He stroke your face with his free hand, and presses his chapped lips to your forehead in a tender kiss. "I'll never get over how much softer you are than me..." He whispers. He begins to hump his manhood against your entrance, biting his lips each time he angles away from you instead of penetrating. "Huh, this is a lil' harder than I thought..." He seems upset at the idea he is under-performing. He takes his hand, and with a solid grip on his member, he pushes the tip just past your hymen, making you squeak into the gag. Before he's even fully got the tip in, his legs are shaking at the feeling. "Oh... Oh lord..." He stammers, fighting the urge to put himself in you all at once. He musters all his strength to pull out, then go back in, just a touch deeper this time. After a few thrusts, he's almost bottomed out in you. Despite your shaking head, your pleas for him to stop, muffled by the gag, soon turn to wanton moans. He places his hands against your hips, allowing him to work himself in and out of you. "God, you're so wet, a-and it's tight... God, didn't know you'd be this tight." He shakes his head though, and leans forward. "Not bad though, not a bad thing, darlin'. You feel so good around me, do I make you feel good too?" In a moment of weakness you nod, prompting him to grin widely. He's so overwhelmed in the moment, from the pleasure and happiness, that his eyes begin to swell with tears. He quickens his pace, almost sobbing now. "My pretty darlin', taking me so well. Making me feel so good, such a good girl. Not city boy could give you what ya' need, not like me..." He huffs. He angles his hips up just a bit, so his tip smacks against a spot deep inside you.

At this, you practically convulse, making him continue once he notices your reaction. "I'll make you finish, don't worry. That's what a good beau does, makes you finish..." He groans, his pace now rapid as he hammers at that spot. Both you can him feel a coil forming in your stomachs, ready to burst. "Hah, I think I'm gonna cum to, you wanna' come together?" His minds fills with thoughts as he thinks more on this while chasing his high. "I already said I-I would marry ya', build ya' a house. We could add on an extra room, for a baby." Your eyes widen in panic at the thought. "Don't worry, I wouldn't leave ya' if you got pregnant from this. That's what that city boy did to Peggy, remember?" He moans. "I'd help ya' the whole way. Build our little one a crib, get them clothes, and I'll bet you'd still be beautiful, if your worried about that." He assures you. You can feel his cock twitching inside you, as as the coil inside you bursts, you feel yourself cumming around him. He gags, inhaling a breath at the feeling. Soon, you feel him convulsing to, a warm liquid filling your caverns as he groans. "God, you're milking me, taking all my seed. So good for me... C'mon baby, just let me stay in a little more, fill ya' up." He groans. After a few seconds, he finally pulls out, and pants, wiping some sweat from his brow. He makes sure to close your legs, wanting to keep in all the seed. He chuckles a little. "Y'know, I'm sure that seed'll take pretty quick... my dad says all the McCall boys are fertile..." He pauses .

The house wasn’t much to look at—just a two-story structure nestled between the trees on the edge of an unmarked stretch of forest, the type of place someone could pass by on an empty road and never look twice. But to the ones who knew, the ones who wandered between shadow and slaughter, it was more than just a house.

It was neutral ground. A stopgap. A place to patch up wounds, lay low, and avoid the eyes of the living world.

You called it the In-Between House.

You weren’t entirely sure what had compelled Slenderman to strike a deal with you in the first place. Maybe it was the way you hadn’t screamed when you found him standing motionless in your backyard that night two years ago, his faceless head tilted in curiosity. Or maybe he just found your offer interesting: you provide a safe haven for his proxies—and the wider cryptid-rampant network—in return for protection, secrecy, and the one thing you truly needed.

Peace.

Of course, “peace” was a flexible concept.

Especially now.

You kept a notebook tucked behind the coffee tins in the pantry. Not because you were sentimental—though, truthfully, maybe you were—but because it helped to remember who had passed through and what they’d needed. Some of them were dangerous. Some just tired. All of them were complicated.

Toby Rogers had been one of your first regulars. He stumbled in during a storm with a busted wrist and a bag full of stolen meds. You didn’t ask where the blood on his hoodie came from; he didn’t offer. For a while, he stayed in the attic room and made a game of jumping down the stairs two at a time. He twitched like he was constantly being shocked and left piles of burnt matches in every room. You once walked in on him dismantling your toaster “just to see how it worked.” But after you patched up his leg and made him waffles one morning, he left you a note that just said: “Thx.” He hasn’t been back in a while, but you keep a box of Eggos in the freezer. Just in case.

Jack—the one without eyes—rarely stayed more than a night. Always came in the back door. Never let you see him without the mask. He’d bring his own supplies—surgical tools, samples, journals scrawled in some dead language—but your guest bathroom became something of a makeshift operating room when he was around. You once found a neatly labeled cooler in the fridge with “DO NOT OPEN” written in Sharpie. (You didn’t.) Despite everything, Jack was strangely respectful. Always cleaned up. Always asked if you had painkillers. Once, he stitched up a gash on your arm without a word and then handed you a cup of tea after. 

Natalie was a wildfire. Loud, sharp-tongued, and utterly unapologetic. She rolled in one night dragging someone half-dead by the collar, bleeding from her own shoulder like it was a paper cut. You let her in because she looked like she wasn’t going to ask permission. She smoked on the porch, cursed like a sailor, and gave unsolicited dating advice that was usually just some variation of “punch him first.” She scared off a group of masked wannabes who tried to sneak in one night and then stayed up with you playing cards until sunrise. She called the place a “murder hotel” and promised to come back when she needed “a break from the testosterone.”

Ben was… a lot. He didn’t knock. He just appeared. Usually mid-glitch, usually inside your walls or flickering through the living room television. He liked to complain about the internet, left fingerprints on your controllers, and made it a point to torment the microwave just because he could. But when he wasn’t being an absolute asshole, he was surprisingly helpful—especially with the security systems Slenderman insisted you install. You think he might’ve rigged a few extra cameras just for fun, though. He flirted shamelessly with you, never serious, but always with a wink like he knew it got under your skin.

Hoodie never said much. Moved like smoke through the house. Stayed for days at a time without a word, often holing up in the basement or perched on the roof in the rain. You weren’t sure if he trusted you—or if he just tolerated you because Slenderman said he had to. But once, during a winter blackout, you found him sitting by the fireplace with an old Polaroid camera, snapping pictures of the snow through the window. He offered you a blanket without a word. You kept one of those pictures. It’s tucked in a drawer, next to a lighter he left behind.

Kate only came when she was bleeding or being hunted. Or both. She always moved with urgency, always left before dawn, and rarely stayed in the same room twice. But once, during a full moon when no one else was around, she let her guard down. Sat at your kitchen table. Let you braid her hair while she talked about how exhausting it was to always be someone else’s weapon. You didn’t speak much. Just listened. She left her boots by the door once and didn’t realize until she was halfway through the woods. You keep them, just in case she needs them again.

Privacy was nonexistent to you now. But at least the horrors that came through your door weren’t there to hurt you.

You stood in the kitchen, your hands deep in soapy water, humming quietly to yourself while the tea steeped behind you. The window over the sink looked out into the tree line. It was misty today, dew clinging to the glass. Somewhere on the second floor, you could hear the faint creak of floorboards—the telltale sign of your most frequent guest.

Liu.

He had the kind of presence that didn’t scream—he lingered. Quiet, steady, like the hum of a storm building behind your ribs. His eyes were a deep brown, nearly golden in the sunlight, but held a tiredness that made you ache. Like he’d seen too much, lost too much, and still hadn’t stopped running.

He’d been staying here on and off for the past six months. At first, like all of them, he kept his distance: polite but guarded. But something changed after a particularly bloody mission left him limping into your foyer, soaked to the bone and barely conscious. You’d bandaged him, fed him, and let him crash on the couch. When he woke up, you were asleep in the chair beside him, your head resting on your knees, keeping watch.

That’s when it began.

He came back more often after that. Started helping out. Fixing the front steps, chopping wood, organizing the shelf of burner phones and bloodied medical supplies. He’d sit at the kitchen table while you read, just listening. Some nights, you’d find him asleep against your door, not because he was guarding you… but maybe just because it made him feel safe.

And eventually, those quiet moments turned into kisses. Into hands brushing yours while you poured coffee. Into whispered jokes and unspoken promises. He never said he loved you—not out loud—but the way he looked at you made it hard to imagine otherwise.

You weren’t a couple, there wasn’t time for that. Liu was full of pent-up anger and was too unsure of himself to settle anything—especially with you. You slept together here and there, he always stayed around to make sure you were safe. But there was just something holding him back from moving forward—from making you his. It didn’t bother you—at least not as much as you’d care to think it did—but it was nice to watch him move around your kitchen while he cooked you dinner and pretend.

You liked watching him when he thought you weren’t looking—brushing his hair back from his face, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket, sitting on the porch with his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for something he couldn’t name.

A thick trace of stitches ran across his face, and you’d traced it once with your thumb in the dark. He didn’t flinch. He’d just closed his eyes and leaned into you like it was the only time he ever let himself rest.

He dressed plainly—dark flannels, sturdy boots, a jacket that smelled like tobacco and cold air. But it suited him.

He didn’t try to scare you. He didn’t have to. There was something about Liu that felt inevitable. Solid. And when he looked at you, it felt like coming home to something you didn’t know you’d lost.

It was simple. It was real, or as real as it could be.

Until last night.

Until he stood in your room, jaw clenched, eyes dark. “He knows.”

You’d blinked from your place in bed. “Who?”

“Jeff.”

You knew the name. Of course, you knew the name.

Jeff the Killer. The infamous maniac with the carved smile, Liu’s estranged brother. You’d heard stories—hell, half your guests dropped his name when telling horror stories over whiskey and bandages. You’d never met him, but even through myth, he left a long shadow.

Liu hadn’t said much more. Just paced the room, rubbing the back of his neck like the old pain was crawling up his spine again.

“He’s coming here. Soon. He knows I’m here. Some shithead friends of his let him know.”

Now, this morning, you could feel the weight of that truth sinking into your bones. The tea had gone cold, and Liu hadn’t come downstairs yet. You knew he wasn’t sleeping.

And then, as if summoned by thought alone, a low rumble broke through the quiet. An engine, loud and ragged, rolled up the gravel road leading to the front of the house. You dried your hands on your sweater, heart picking up speed.

He was here.

── .✦

The motorcycle stalled in a gravel spit.

Jeff swung one leg off, hoodie smudged with dried something—you didn’t want to guess what—and his signature grin already in place. The first thing you noticed about him wasn’t the scars. It wasn’t even the way his smile looked like it had been carved with a kitchen knife and frozen in place. It was his eyes. Wide, wild, locked onto you like he was trying to decide whether to flirt or flay you alive.

His skin was ghost-pale, almost grey in the wrong light, stretched tight over sharp cheekbones and an unnervingly youthful face that shouldn’t have belonged to a killer. He had the kind of smile that made your stomach twist—not out of fear exactly, but from something darker.

His black hair was a mess, hanging around his face in uneven strands like he’d hacked at it with scissors in a fit. He wore an old white hoodie, stained and frayed at the sleeves, and jeans that had seen too many nights and too many bodies.

“Well, well,” he muttered, eyeing the house. “Big bro’s been busy.”

He kicked a stone with his boot and strode up the porch steps like he owned the place. Didn’t knock. Didn’t hesitate. Just opened the door.

You were already there in the foyer.

And when your eyes met his for the first time, he stopped walking.

“…Huh,” Jeff said, tilting his head, eyes scanning you up and down. “So you’re the reason Liu’s been ignoring me.”

You didn’t flinch, even though something in his presence was undeniably wrong. 

“He’s not ignoring you,” you said, voice steady. “He’s just been busy.”

Jeff snorted, “Same thing.”

And then, before you could answer, a low voice cut through the silence like a gunshot.

“Jeff.”

Liu stood at the top of the stairs, eyes hard, shirt wrinkled from pacing all night. His knives were sheathed, but you knew that meant nothing.

Jeff looked up, grin sharpening. “Liu! You didn’t tell me your new girl was such a hottie. You should’ve introduced us sooner. Sharing’s caring, right?”

“She’s not yours to share,” Liu growled, coming down step by step. “You’re not welcome here.”

Jeff shrugged, kicking the door closed behind him. “I don’t think you get to make the rules, big brother.”

Your stomach dropped.

The house had held killers before—shit, it had hosted worse. But the energy between these two? This wasn’t going to be some cold-shouldered stand-off.

This was a powder keg. And you were the spark.

── .✦

You weren’t sure when Jeff stopped being a guest and started acting like he owned the place. Maybe it was the third day, when he dragged his boots across the kitchen counter like he was testing your patience, or maybe it was the second night, when he stole Liu’s cigarettes and spelled “BITCH” in ashes on the porch.

Either way, your home hadn’t felt like yours since he arrived.

“You make cookies now?” Jeff snorted on his fifth night there, leaning over your shoulder like a ghost you couldn’t exorcise. “God, Liu, she’s really domesticating you. Next thing you know, you’ll be wearing matching aprons and talking about country cooking recipes.”

You didn’t dignify it with a response. Liu didn’t either—but the way his jaw ticked told you he was fighting the urge to plant his brother into the floorboards.

It had been like this all week. Jeff worming his way into every quiet moment, every near-kiss and fleeting brush of fingers. He didn’t just ruin the peace—he savored it. You’d catch him watching you from doorways, eyes wide and wild, that carved smile stretching a little wider every time Liu’s hands found your waist or your fingers tangled in his hair.

Like he knew. 

On Tuesday, Liu’s hand had been at the small of your back, lips ghosting your neck as he murmured something low and quiet against your skin. You’d been curled into him on the couch, the rest of the world finally quiet for once.

Then—

“Oh no. Am I interrupting?” Jeff’s voice rang out from the kitchen like a gunshot. He leaned in the doorway holding a beer he didn’t ask for and a grin like he’d been waiting to deliver that line all day.

Liu stood so fast the couch creaked. “Get out.”

“Of the house, or the room?” Jeff asked innocently. “You gotta be specific with me, bro. Boundaries, right?”

You had to pull Liu back by the arm before he could do something regrettable.

Thursday was worse.

The bedroom. The bedroom, for God’s sake. You’d locked the door. You were sure of it.

You were on top of Liu, his shirt half off, your fingers gripping the scarred line of his hip like you meant it, nearly unbuttoning the top of his jeans—but alas.

“Ohhhh no, don’t stop on my account.” Jeff’s voice from the hallway, accompanied by a loud rattling of the doorknob. “Hey, I found an old picture of Liu as a kid! Wanna see him with braces and a bowl cut?”

You nearly screamed. Liu did scream—into a pillow.

Every day chipped away at him a little more. You could see it—shoulders tight, eyes sharp, voice shorter with each passing hour. Liu had always been careful with his emotions, even around you. Controlled. But lately, he wore his tension like a second skin.

And you did your best. You really did.

Late-night whispers. Quiet reassurances. Hands threading through his hair as he sat on the floor in front of you, leaning his weight into your thighs like it was the only peace he could find.

“I can make him leave,” you said one night, softly. “I can ask Slender—”

“No.” Liu’s voice was gravel. “He’ll twist it. Make it worse. He holds Slender’s favor more than you do. He’s already trying to prove something.”

“To who?”

Liu didn’t answer. But the look in his eyes said enough.

── .✦

It happened mid-afternoon.

You were in the front yard, hanging up sheets on the line, the breeze soft and quiet for once. Liu had been helping, mostly because you liked the way he looked with sleeves rolled up and sunlight on his skin.

Jeff was on the porch, feet kicked up, flipping a knife through his fingers like he was bored.

“You look real cozy,” he called. “Gotta say, I never pegged you for the ‘play house’ type, Liu. What happened? Lose your edge?”

Liu didn’t answer. Didn’t even look up.

Jeff stood. Walked down the steps slowly. “C’mon, man. I mean, I’m happy for you. You’re so… normal now. Warm food, soft bed, a girl who pretends not to be afraid of you—”

Liu turned.

“Shut your mouth.”

Jeff smirked. “Touched a nerve, did I?”

“You’ve been pushing me all week.”

Jeff took a step closer, throwing the knife down, the blade sticking up in the dirt. “Not my fault you’ve gone soft. You think that little taste of comfort’s gonna fix what we are? You think playing boyfriend makes you less of a monster?”

Liu didn’t speak. He launched at Jeff instead.

The sheet in your hands flew into the grass as the bodies hitting each other rattled your senses.

Fists. Grunts. A crack as someone’s back hit the porch railing. Jeff laughing like it was the best thing that had happened to him all month, even as Liu slammed him into the ground, dirt flying from the impact.

You ran to them—shouting, grabbing at shoulders, but neither of them heard you. Or if they did, they didn’t care.

Jeff’s smile was bloody, broken-lipped but ecstatic.

“There’s my brother,” he snarled through his teeth. “I knew he was still in there.”

Liu had Jeff by the collar, slamming him into the dirt, and Jeff was laughing through a split lip like this was Christmas morning. Fists cracked against ribs. Elbows scraped across gravel. It wasn’t a fight—it was a blood-soaked grudge that had waited years for permission to surface.

“Boys—!”

You grabbed at Liu’s arm, tugged, but he threw Jeff off with a snarl that barely sounded human.

Jeff hit the ground hard but rolled to his feet like nothing fazed him. Blood on his teeth. Dirt on his smile.

“Oh, come on, sweetheart,” Jeff grinned, his eyes sliding to you like oil over glass. “You sure you want him when I’m this much fun? Gotta say, if you’re into bad boys, you’re fishing in the wrong half of the gene pool.”

That did it.

There was no warning—just a roar and the sudden weight of his body colliding with Jeff’s. Liu’s hands curled in the fabric of his brother’s hoodie, shoving him down, dragging him closer like he couldn’t decide whether to kill him right there or throw him for distance.

You stepped between them this time—hard. Shoving at Liu’s chest. Pushing Jeff back with your forearm, even though his breath ghosted across your neck when he leaned in with that maddening smile.

“Jesus, fuck!” you shouted, shoving Liu harder. “Liu, stop—it’s not worth it, he’s not worth it!”

Liu’s chest heaved. His hands dropped. Jeff staggered back, arms spread, still smirking like a devil on his way out of a church.

“You two always this dramatic?” he said with a whistle. “Can’t wait for the honeymoon.”

You barely had time to look back before Liu grabbed your wrist and hauled you toward the house.

── .✦

The bedroom door slammed shut behind you. You barely had time to take a breath before Liu paced away from you, hands tangled in his hair like he was trying to rip the rage out by the roots.

You watched him. The curve of his back. The shudder in his shoulders. The blood on his mouth that wasn’t his.

He looked like a bomb still ticking.

You stepped forward carefully, holding your voice low. “Sit down.”

“I’m fine.”

“Liu. Sit.”

He didn’t argue. That was almost worse.

You soaked a cloth in warm water from your bathroom sink, wrung it out, and knelt in front of him as he sat on the edge of your bed. He winced slightly as you dabbed at his face, and your fingers brushed the fresh bruise blooming near his cheekbone. A scrape at his jaw. Blood trickling from his lip.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered.

You kept dabbing.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I said, hold still.”

He did.

Silence settled between you, thick as syrup. The scrape of cloth over skin. The scent of sweat and copper. The pressure of unspoken words burning behind both your tongues.

“I hate the way he talks to you,” Liu said quietly. “Like you’re something to taunt me with. Like you’re not your own person.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to keep your touch steady. “I can handle Jeff.”

“No, you shouldn’t have to.”

He looked up at you then—eyes wide, dark, wounded in a way you weren’t used to seeing from him. And it broke something.

“Then what, Liu? You fight every time he opens his mouth? Every time he looks at me sideways? That’s your plan?”

He didn’t respond. His hands curled on his knees.

Your voice cracked. “Do you really think I’d leave you just because he acts like an ass?”

“That’s not what this is—”

“Then what is it?”

He hung his head, refusing to look at you. “He gets into your head, that’s what he does. He poisons everything. He’ll make you think I’m weak. He’ll make you see me the way I see myself and then—then you’ll go.”

Your breath caught.

“You think I’m that shallow? After everything we’ve been through? All this time? You really think one fight, one nasty word from Jeff, and I’m just gonna—what? Forget you? Walk away?” You dropped the bloodied cloth on the nightstand. “You crawl into my bed every night, Liu. You kiss me every morning. I let you touch me every time you want. But when I ask you what we are—when I try to talk about us—you shut down. You deflect. You pretend like none of this is happening.”

Now his eyes lifted to yours. Tired. Haunted.

“You know why.”

“Yeah?” Your voice cracked. “Because of Jeff? Because you’re scared he’ll ruin this, just like he ruins everything?”

“No. Because I’ll ruin it.”

That hit you harder than you expected. You blinked, gathering your thoughts, then took a step back.

“You think I don’t know what I’m getting into?” you asked, incredulous. “You think I’ve just been guessing this whole time about who you are and what you’ve done? Liu—I see you. Every part of you. And I still want you.”

He stood up, slowly. “You think you see me, but you don’t. You don’t know what it’s like to live in fear of someone taking something from you—”

“Oh, please,” you snapped, “don’t make this about him again.”

Liu’s jaw clenched.

“All of this has been for you,” you continued, voice rising. “I stood between you and him. I defended you when he laughed in my face about this. And every time I think we’re about to be something real, you pull away. Like I’m just a place you crash when it’s too hard to breathe out there.”

He looked stunned. And then—ashamed.

You felt tears sting behind your eyes. Angry ones.

“Just say it,” you whispered. “Say you don’t want me. Say I’m nothing to you. I’d rather hear the worst than keep guessing.”

Liu stepped toward you like the floor burned under his feet.

“I want you.”

You blinked, startled.

“I do,” he said again, quieter now. “I just don’t know if I know how to keep something good. I don’t want to give you a broken name with blood all over it and call it a relationship. I don’t even know if I’m capable of that kind of peace anymore.”

You stared at him.

“Then stop crawling into my bed if you’re going to keep crawling out of this.”

Silence. Heavy. Crushing.

He opened his mouth—but you didn’t want to hear it anymore. You turned away, biting your cheek hard to keep the tears back.

And that’s when he stormed out.

Boots thudding hard down the stairs. The slam of the front door so loud it rattled the picture frames.

You stood there, chest tight, breath sharp.

And then—like a bad punchline—you heard the soft laugh from the doorway.

“Yikes.”

You turned.

Jeff was leaning against the doorframe like he’d been there for a while. Arms crossed, lip still bleeding, a spark of mischief in his eye like he lived for scenes like this.

“I mean,” he said, tilting his head. “I knew I could push him, but damn. I didn’t expect to break him.”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

Jeff’s smile widened.

“You sure you’re with the right brother?” Jeff’s voice lilted, lazy and smug like he thought this was a joke he’d already won.

But you weren’t in the mood to play along.

You stepped toward him—slow, measured. Not flinching when his black-rimmed eyes flicked to you, head still tilted like a curious animal.

“I’m going to tell you something,” you said, low and controlled, even though your hands were shaking. “And you’re going to listen.”

Jeff’s smirk twitched. “Oh? This where you scold me? I kinda like it when you get mean.”

You didn’t smile. You didn’t blink.

“You’ve done everything in your power to get under Liu’s skin since the second you walked through that door. You’ve stirred shit, ruined my nights, made me feel unsafe in my own home—all because you’re jealous he has something you don’t.”

That made the grin falter.

“I’m not scared of you, Jeff,” you continued, stepping closer, voice rising now. “You want people to think you’re scary shit, but you’re not. You’re just bitter. Bitter and lonely and too much of a coward to say what you really want, so you lash out like a damn child.”

Jeff’s tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek—or what was left of it. His eyes darkened, narrowed. “You talk a lot for someone who’s just fucking my brother.”

Your hand moved before your brain caught up.

Crack.

His head snapped sideways from the force of your slap. Not hard enough to injure—but hard enough to shock him.

Silence rang between you.

Jeff touched his jaw slowly, expression unreadable.

“I warned you,” you said through your teeth, chest heaving. “Don’t talk about me like I’m a toy, and don’t talk about Liu like he’s nothing. He is so much more than you’ll ever let yourself be.”

Jeff stared at you. Quiet. Still.

Then he let out a soft laugh. Not his usual unhinged cackle—this one was… lower—like a rumbling of thunder before a storm.

“You’re hot,” he said, lips twitching again. “I can see why he’s got it bad.”

You stepped back.

“You’ve made your point,” you said, voice still trembling. “You hate seeing him happy. You hate being reminded that someone chooses him and not you. But let me make my point, Jeff—he didn’t have to twist my arm. He didn’t trick me. I chose him. And I’ll keep choosing him. No matter how many times you try to tear him down.”

For a second—just a second—you saw something flicker behind Jeff’s eyes. Something hollow.

And then it was gone. Replaced with a grin, as always.

“Careful,” he murmured. “You keep talking like that, and I might fall for you myself.”

You stared at him.

“I’d rather kiss a live wire.”

Jeff chuckled. “Kinky.”

Then he turned on his heel and walked down the hall, hands in his pockets like none of it mattered. Like you hadn’t peeled back something raw and ugly underneath that smiling mask.

── .✦

If you thought confronting Jeff would stop him… It didn’t.

It just got so much worse.

At first, you thought maybe he’d follow his brother—maybe go chase down the fight they never finished, disappear into the woods and let the house exhale. But Jeff didn’t leave. No, he stayed.

And with Liu gone, you became his new favorite punching bag.

You’d underestimated how deep Jeff’s need for chaos went. Because now it wasn’t about riling up his brother—it was about you. The way your breath caught when he brushed past you. The way you stiffened when his voice dropped low behind your ear. The way you never told anyone—even when Natalie had stopped by one night for drinks and questioned why it smelled like wet dog in here.

It started in the kitchen.

Leaning too close when you were washing dishes. “That’s a nice shirt,” he said once, voice like heat down your spine. “But it’d look better on the floor.”

You told him to screw off.

He just grinned.

It got worse in the hallway.

Late at night, brushing against you with that sinful gait, eyes roaming like he had every right. One hand braced beside your head on the wall while he blocked your path, that crooked smile dripping with sin. “Liu’s not here,” he murmured. “What’s stopping you?”

You shoved past him. Locked your door.

But it didn’t stop him from knocking and whispering nasty jokes through the wood.

Then one night, you caught him sitting in the armchair in your room when you came out of the shower—legs spread, jacket halfway unzipped, eyes slow and heavy-lidded as they trailed down your towel-covered body.

“Relax,” he said before you could scream. “Door was unlocked. Thought you might need company.”

You threw him out that night. But your hands shook for twenty minutes after.

Because here’s the truth you didn’t want to admit:

You hated it. You hated him.

But somewhere in the dark corners of your mind, the part of you that had been strung out for weeks on tension and emotional warfare… liked the attention.

It stirred something twisted. Something bitter and hungry.

Because for once, someone wanted you.

Liu wanted to protect you. Wanted to keep you at arm’s length.

Jeff? Jeff didn’t hesitate. Jeff took.

You despised that. You craved it anyway. And that’s what confused you most.

── .✦

You were in the laundry room, bent over the dryer, when you felt him behind you. Not heard—felt. Like a chill up your spine. Like static.

Then his hand grazed the back of your thigh. Not hard, not rough, but there—fingers dragging up your skin just under your shorts.

You spun around with a start, heart hammering.

“Don’t touch me,” you snapped.

Jeff raised his hands in mock surrender, smirk curling wide. “Can’t help it. You bend over like that, and I forget my manners.”

“I mean it,” you said, voice trembling with fury. “I don’t care where Liu is—if you ever touch me like that again—”

“What?” he cut in, stepping closer. “You’ll slap me again?” His eyes dropped to your mouth. “You gonna do it harder this time? ‘Cause I gotta be honest, I was so horny after our little chat the other night.”

You went to slap him again, despite your better judgement.

This time, he didn’t laugh. He caught your wrist. Fast. Strong. His fingers tightened around you, and for one second, you saw the mask slip.

Not the grin. Not the predator. Something else. Something dark and lonely and boiling over.

But just as quickly, it was gone.

He let your hand go and took a step back, licking his bottom lip. “You keep looking at me like that,” he murmured, “and I’m not gonna believe you actually want me to stop teasin’ you.”

You didn’t say anything. Couldn’t. Because he wasn’t entirely wrong. And that was the part that scared you.

── .✦

The house was quiet for once. Almost peaceful.

The kind of quiet that made you anxious.

Dinner sizzled in the pan—chicken, garlic, something simple. You stirred, lost in the rhythm, ignoring the weight of Jeff’s presence sprawled across the living room couch behind you.

He’d been uncharacteristically quiet tonight. No crude remarks. No brushes of contact. No teasing.

But still there.

You glanced over your shoulder.

Jeff sat slouched in the corner of the couch, arms spread out along the top like a king surveying a kingdom, not wearing a hoodie for once—but rather a snug black t-shirt. His dark, messy hair shadowed his pale face, and for the first time in weeks, he wasn’t grinning.

He was watching you cook. Just… watching.

“You gonna stare all night, or you want something?” you muttered, trying to shake the nerves crawling up your spine.

His eyes didn’t move.

“You look different when you’re not pissed,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

Jeff tilted his head. “Softer. Like… an actual person.”

You stared at him for a second, spatula paused mid-stir.

Of all the things he’d said to you—every disgusting, flirtatious, off-color jab—that one somehow hit the most nerve-wracking spot. It wasn’t even laced with sarcasm.

You turned back to the pan quickly, heart pounding harder than it should’ve been. It was stupid. He didn’t mean it. It was just another trick. Another way to get under your skin. But your chest still felt too warm. Like someone had opened a window you didn’t know was locked.

You rolled your eyes at yourself.

“What?” Jeff called out, smug returning. “Speechless for once?”

“Shut up,” you muttered, grabbing a second plate and spooning a portion of food onto it.

His voice floated in, casual but low, “You don’t have to do that. I know you only cook for people you give a shit about.”

You set the plate down harder than necessary, resisting the urge to launch it at his head.

“Just take the damn food,” you snapped.

But you couldn’t help it—you brought the plate to him. Didn’t throw it, didn’t shove it, just… offered it, like he was anyone else.

His fingers brushed yours when he took it.

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

You sat on the armrest across from him, arms folded tight against your chest, and didn’t look at him as you asked, “Why do you and Liu hate each other so much?”

The question sat in the air like smoke.

Jeff didn’t answer right away. He took a bite of food, chewed slowly. You watched the muscles in his jaw tense.

“I don’t hate him,” he said finally. “He just hates who I am.”

You frowned. “That’s the same thing.”

He looked at you then, something sharp but weary in his eyes. “Nah. See, Liu still thinks I’m the guy who used to apologize when I hurt someone. He thinks I’m the version of me who gave a damn. But that guy’s dead. Been dead.”

You swallowed hard. The warmth in your chest was turning into something colder.

“He looks at me and sees a grave,” Jeff said. “And I look at him and see someone who keeps digging like he’s trying to find his little brother’s corpse.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. You weren’t even sure if you should say anything. Instead, you reached for your own plate. Picked at your food. Wondered why your throat felt tight.

Jeff sat next to you in silence. Too close, despite being on the complete other side of the furniture. He didn’t say anything after his last comment. Just kept eating, slower now, more thoughtful.

You studied the floor. The scratches from boots. The little flecks of dried mud and blood that had stained the wood over time. All of it felt so far from normal. But somehow, the way Jeff was sitting here—quiet, even human for once—made you ache for something you didn’t know how to word.

“Maybe…” you began slowly, “maybe Liu just misses his little brother.”

Jeff’s fork paused halfway to his mouth.

You went on, even though your throat tightened around the words. “Maybe he just misses when you guys were a normal family. Before everything went to hell.”

There was a long, stretching silence. And then—Jeff barked a laugh. Not cruel. Not loud. Just dry, cracked, tired.

“Normal?” he repeated, shaking his head. “You think we were ever normal?”

You glanced up. His expression wasn’t mocking anymore. It was flat. Distant. His gaze stuck on the dark TV screen across from you, like he could see something that wasn’t really there. “We haven’t been normal since we were kids,” Jeff muttered. “Hell, even then… I don’t think I ever knew what normal felt like. Not really.”

You watched him quietly, heart slowing.

“I didn’t hate my parents,” he said after a moment. “Even when they looked at me like something was wrong. I didn’t even hate Liu. I just—” he broke off, jaw tightening. “Everything changed. And once it changed, I couldn’t put it back. I broke something in all of us.”

You set your plate down. The warmth in your chest was back—but it wasn’t romantic or flirty or furious. It was painful. Like looking at a child who’d been left out in the cold too long.

Jeff didn’t look like a killer right then. He looked like a boy. A boy who had lost everything. And it shattered something in you.

“Liu doesn’t hate me,” he said finally, still not meeting your eyes. “He just sees me as a threat now. Not just because I’m a killer. Not because I scare you or mess with you. But because he knows what I’ve already taken from him.”

You swallowed. “What do you mean?”

Jeff’s voice dropped to a low murmur.

“Our parents. His childhood. His peace. His brother. I took all that from him. He’s scared I’ll take you too.”

Your breath hitched. That was it, wasn’t it?

Liu hadn’t told you all the reasons. But maybe he didn’t need to. Because Jeff had already said it. Already seen it.

And now so did you.

You looked at him, really looked, and suddenly everything tilted. He wasn’t just a nightmare anymore. Not just a grinning ghost who slipped into your space and threw gasoline on every fire. He was a broken, lonely boy who’d lost everyone and didn’t know what to do with the pieces.

A boy who wanted—desperately—to be seen. Just like Liu. Just like you.

You weren’t sure when your heart started aching. You weren’t sure if it was sympathy or something worse. But when Jeff finally looked at you, his eyes weren’t gleaming with humor or mischief. They were hollow. Honest. And in that moment, you saw it clear as day: There was still someone left in there.

You didn’t know when you’d leaned closer.

Maybe it was while he talked. Maybe it was when you saw that sliver of something raw in his expression—vulnerability twisted up in teeth and bravado. But now, you were leaned toward the middle of the couch, hand braced near his knee, close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin.

Jeff hadn’t moved. Didn’t smirk. Didn’t crack a joke.

He just watched you with a stillness that was almost skittish. Your eyes searched his face—not like you hadn’t seen it a hundred times, but this time, you looked.

The stitches. The scarring. The carved cheeks that were too tight from the grin that never left. The old bruises and newer ones. The mess of hair. The feral energy, muted now.

“If you and Liu didn’t have so many cuts and scars,” you said, voice soft, “you’d really look like brothers.”

Something shifted in his eyes. Something that wasn’t playful or dark. Just… quiet.

“You think so?” he asked, almost like a challenge. But it wasn’t sharp.

You nodded faintly, gaze lingering a second too long. “I know you’re probably used to being called a monster,” you said, barely audible. “But I think maybe you’re just… too human for your own good.”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

Your hand moved before your mind could stop it—reaching up, fingers brushing against his jaw. The skin was rough beneath your touch, the faint ridges of healed wounds cutting across smooth flesh. Jeff’s breath hitched just slightly. Not from nerves, not from arousal—but from something that felt like need.

Your thumb brushed the corner of his mouth.

And you saw it—the boy again. The one buried under blood and madness.

You leaned in close enough that your nose nearly touched his, that his hand lifted halfway toward your hip like he didn’t know whether to grab you or push you away or beg you. Your lips parted—less than an inch left between you.

And then your mind caught up with your body.

Liu.

You pulled back fast, like the air had turned to flame. Jeff blinked, breath uneven, but still didn’t say a word. You stood up like the ground had betrayed you, heat crawling up your neck in shame, in panic, in something that felt like regret already.

“I—” you shook your head, voice breaking, “I need to go.” You didn’t wait for his answer. You didn’t give him the chance to twist it into something else. You stormed up the stairs, two at a time, slamming your bedroom door shut behind you as your hands shook at your sides.

Your heart was pounding. Your mind screamed what the hell were you doing over and over like it might knock some sense into you.

Downstairs, you didn’t hear laughter. You didn’t hear footsteps. You just heard silence.

And that might’ve been the worst part of all.

── .✦

A week after that night, the front door creaked open just after midnight.

You were curled in the corner of the living room, a blanket draped around your shoulders, a cup of tea gone cold on the table. You hadn’t been sleeping much—not since that night with Jeff. Not since Liu left without a word.

But when you heard the door, your head shot up like a thread had snapped tight in your chest. Boots scuffed the floor. Then you saw him—Liu.

Hair tousled. Hoodie torn. Blood dried on the corner of his mouth. But it was him. He looked up—and when his eyes met yours, he broke. “…I couldn’t stay away.”

Your breath left you.

He dropped his bag with a thud, crossed the room in three long strides, and wrapped himself around you like a lifeline. His arms locked tight around your waist, face buried against your neck. You could feel his shoulders trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your skin. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

You didn’t speak. You just clutched him back, fingers twisted in his jacket, tears already spilling down your cheeks. You hated how badly you’d missed him. How much you still wanted him.

Behind Liu, leaning against the dark hallway wall, Jeff watched, his face unreadable. No smirk. No grin. Just eyes that followed the way Liu curled into you—like he needed you more than anything. Eyes that lingered, knowing what had almost happened in the quiet of this very room, what still hung between you like smoke.

You didn’t say a word to Jeff. And he didn’t say a word back.

── .✦

Later that night, you and Liu sat in the garden.

It was quiet, only the wind rustling through lavender stalks and the moon bleeding soft light across the stone path. Liu had cleaned up. His shirt was off, a gauze wrap around his ribs, bruises fading across his chest. He looked tired, but softer now. Relaxed.

He was laying back against the bench while you sat beside him, your hand tracing the curve of his wrist where it rested in your lap.

“I was at one of Slender’s outposts,” he murmured. “Didn’t even realize how far I’d gone until I couldn’t feel you anymore.”

You tilted your head. “Feel me?”

He nodded once, eyes on his hands. “Like… the memory of you. It keeps me grounded. I think about your voice when it’s too quiet. I imagine you touching my back when it hurts. I replay the way you say my name when I wake up from bad dreams.”

Your heart twisted.

“Liu…”

He glanced up, and there was something devastating in the way his eyes softened. “I thought maybe you’d be better off if I left. That Jeff would get bored and move on. That he’d stop trying to ruin what we had.”

You looked down.

And in the silence, the guilt pooled low in your gut—because that’s not what happened. He didn’t leave, and Jeff didn’t stop.

He got worse. And something inside you had let him.

“I missed you,” you whispered instead, the only truth you could bear to say aloud. “Every night. Every morning. I didn’t even want to sleep in my own bed.”

His mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. “It’s not really your bed anymore. I made it mine months ago.”

You laughed—a tiny, broken thing—and leaned forward without thinking.

Your lips pressed to his. Gentle. Familiar. Like a sigh against his mouth.

Liu let you kiss him like he needed it to breathe. One hand slid into your hair, the other wrapping around your waist as he pulled you into his lap. You fit there like you belonged, like you always had. You kissed him deeper this time, fingers curling into his shirt, trying to remember every breath you’d missed.

But when you pulled away, your heart didn’t settle. Because all you could think about was the kitchen. The couch. The way Jeff looked at you like he saw something sacred. The way you almost kissed him too.

You sat there in Liu’s lap, forehead pressed to his shoulder, arms around his neck—and your chest ached with something you couldn’t name.

You loved him. You did.

But in that moment… you realized you wanted Jeff, too. Not instead. Not more. Just… also.

And you hated yourself for it.

So you held Liu tighter, hoping maybe that would chase the feeling away.

But it didn’t.

And somewhere behind you, through the cracked curtains of the kitchen window, you knew someone else was watching.

── .✦

The In-Between House had settled into a strange rhythm.

Liu was trying—that much was clear. He washed dishes without being asked. Helped you fold sheets even when he clearly didn’t know how. He lingered beside you in the garden a lot, his hand always finding yours when he thought Jeff wasn’t looking.

But Jeff was always looking.

He lounged around shirtless, always throwing you off guard with his strangely lean torso, flipped through your recipe cards like they were some kind of joke, and called Liu “your little housewife” every time he found him near a broom or in the kitchen.

“You missed your calling, bro,” Jeff grinned one morning, sipping your coffee like it belonged to him. “Should’ve opened a bed-and-breakfast with your girlfriend.”

Liu didn’t even look up from chopping onions. “You should try shutting the fuck up. For once.”

You rolled your eyes. “Enough.”

It was exhausting. It was normal. Until it wasn’t.

You were in the laundry room.

It was late afternoon, a few hours before the sun would set over the ridge. The washer rumbled beneath your hands as you leaned against it, trying to wrestle a stubborn bloodstain out of one of Liu’s shirts. The small space smelled like detergent and damp cotton, the dryer humming low behind you.

Then came the creak of the door. You didn’t turn. You didn’t have to.

“You know,” Jeff’s voice purred behind you, closer than it should’ve been, “you’ve got the prettiest hands.”

You stiffened.

His breath ghosted the side of your neck. “All soft. Gentle. Liu doesn’t deserve that kind of treatment.”

You finally turned your head, glaring over your shoulder. “Don’t.”

He smiled wide. “Don’t what? Flatter you? Or tell the truth?”

Then his hand—warm and confident—slid around your waist, tugging you back until your hips bumped against his. His fingers dug just enough to steal your breath, and you gasped in surprise, heat flushing up your spine.

“Jeff—” you snapped, grabbing his wrist. “Cut it out.”

But he didn’t move.

“Admit it,” he whispered in your ear. “You think about it. About me. You wonder how different it would feel—how rough I’d be.”

The door slammed open.

Jeff barely had time to blink before Liu’s fist collided with his jaw.

You screamed as Jeff staggered back, lips split, blood already pooling at the corner of his jagged mouth.

“You motherfucker—” Liu roared, grabbing the front of Jeff’s shirt and shoving him hard into the dryer.

Jeff just laughed like he loved this.

“You gonna cry, Liu?” he sneered, smearing blood from his lip with the back of his hand. “Your little housewife caught with her apron down?”

“Don’t talk about her—don’t fucking touch her!”

“I didn’t do anything she didn’t want—”

Liu punched him again. And Jeff finally hit back.

They crashed into the shelves, the detergent bottle flying off, towels toppling down like snowfall as fists connected, teeth bared, bodies grappling in the narrow space. You yelled for them to stop, heart pounding so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think.

It was brutal. It was ugly. It was personal.

Jeff stumbled back, but the grin never left his bloodied face.

“Oh, there he is,” he hissed, spitting red onto the tiled floor. “There’s the real Liu. Thought we lost you somewhere between folding pillowcases and playing boyfriend.”

Liu didn’t speak. His knuckles were bleeding. His chest heaved with a kind of rage that didn’t need words anymore. Jeff’s eyes flicked toward you. He wiped his mouth again, smearing crimson up to his cheek like warpaint. “Guess you should’ve stayed gone though. She didn’t seem to miss you that much.”

Liu flinched. Jeff stepped closer.

“Kitchen. Couch. Laundry room…” His smirk widened. “We got friendly while you were off having your little tantrum.”

You barely had time to yell—“Jeff, enough!”—before Liu lunged. They crashed back into the washer, and Jeff grunted as Liu’s shoulder slammed into his gut. The two of them hit the ground, Jeff scrambling to swing but Liu kept coming, pinning him down, forearm across his throat.

“I fucking hate you,” Liu seethed, eyes wild, hair in his face. “You came into this house and spit on everything. On her.”

“Oh, please—”

The next punch cracked Jeff’s head against the tile. You gasped, stumbling forward—but neither of them heard you. Not now.

Liu hit him again. And again. Until finally Jeff’s laughter broke off into a cough—raspy and wet—and Liu’s hands closed around his throat. He straddled Jeff’s waist, pressing down, his grip tightening like a vice. His arms trembled from rage and effort. Jeff clawed at his wrists, mouth open, teeth bared—but Liu didn’t stop.

His voice was a growl. “You don’t get to hurt her. You don’t get to touch her—”

“Liu—!” you shouted, too late, stumbling forward as the air thickened with panic. “Liu, stop it! Stop!”

Jeff’s legs kicked once. Then stilled.

“Jeff!” you screamed.

Liu’s head snapped toward you. His eyes—dark, empty, gone—met yours for half a second.

It was enough. He faltered, just slightly.

But Jeff twisted his hips hard and Liu lost his balance. With a grunt, Liu surged forward and kicked Jeff across the chest, sending him sprawling against the wall.

Jeff gasped in air, coughing violently.

Liu stood, chest heaving, blood running down the side of his face from where Jeff had landed a punch earlier. He stared down at his brother like he didn’t recognize him anymore—or maybe he had always looked at him like that.

You stood frozen—caught between the two halves of the storm, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Jeff wiped his mouth again, slower this time. He glanced up at you from the floor.

And for the first time… he didn’t smile.

The silence in the laundry room was unbearable.

Jeff sat slumped against the wall, one arm cradling his ribs, eyes still burning with something unreadable. Liu stood in the corner, hands shaking, face blood-slicked and pale beneath the rage.

And you’d had enough.

“Upstairs,” you snapped, voice like a whip. “Now.”

Neither moved.

So you stormed over—first to Liu, grabbing a fistful of his hair, yanking his head down to your level. He winced.

“You want to fight like a child? Then get treated like one.”

He didn’t argue. Just followed as you dragged him out by the hair.

Then Jeff.

“You too,” you hissed, grabbing him by the longer strands that fell past his ear, ignoring the chuckle he barely managed through the split lip.

“Shit, I like it when you’re rough.”

“Don’t talk to her—” Liu tried to cut in.

“Shut up,” you snarled between them.

The stairs groaned under your stomping feet, your hands twisted in both their hair as they stumbled and muttered behind you like scolded dogs. You threw open the bathroom door and shoved them both inside, slamming the door shut behind you.

Liu sat on the edge of the tub, his breath still uneven. Jeff leaned against the sink, blood drying at the corner of his mouth. You grabbed the washcloth, ran hot water over it, and stepped between them.

Wiping Liu’s face first—none too gently.

“You know what?” you snapped, scrubbing at the smear on his jaw. “I’m tired. I’m so tired, Liu.”

He flinched. “I know, I—”

“No. You don’t know. You left.”

You wrung the cloth out and moved to Jeff, dabbing at the blood near his nose. He didn’t move, just watched you with unreadable eyes.

“You left me here with him,” you spat, gesturing to Jeff with the cloth, “like it meant nothing. Like I meant nothing.”

Liu stiffened behind you. “I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t. You never think. Not about me, not about us.” You tossed the cloth in the sink and grabbed another. Your hands trembled as you turned back to Liu. “You crawl into my bed. Into my heart. And then you still act like I’m temporary. Like you’re afraid to say I’m yours.”

Liu’s throat worked. “That’s not—”

“And you,” you cut in, turning to Jeff again, stabbing the wet cloth against his cheek. He hissed but didn’t stop you. “You think this is funny. A game. Something to poke and prod and get off on.”

He grinned faintly. “Well, you do get very cute when you’re angry—”

You slapped the cloth against his chest. “Don’t push me.”

And for a moment, he didn’t. For once, Jeff stayed quiet.

Your shoulders sagged as you turned back to Liu, wiping gently under his eye. This time your voice came out softer, but sharper. “I wanted more from you. I still do. But you made it so easy for him to fill the spaces you left behind. And now…” you looked down, knuckles whitening around the cloth, “I don’t know what I want.”

Liu swallowed. “You don’t want him.”

You looked up and met Jeff’s eyes.

Your breath caught—because even after everything, he looked human. Not a monster. Not a killer. Just a boy—a boy who was hurting. Like you were.

You turned back to look at Liu. It was uncanny how similar they were beneath it all. But even still—you saw it—that boy begging to be seen, begging to be loved by something that wouldn't betray him.

Both of them pulled your heart apart in different directions.

“I don’t know what I want,” you whispered. “Because you both gave me pieces. But none of you gave me the whole thing.”

The silence in the bathroom stretched taut, fragile as glass. Jeff leaned back against the sink, his lips still bleeding faintly. Liu sat back on the edge of the tub, jaw clenched, a cut forming a crimson track beneath his cheekbone. And you stood between them—your chest heaving, your fists clenched at your sides.

They were both watching you. Waiting. Expecting. But you didn’t have the answer. You didn’t know who you wanted—who you trusted, who you needed.

So you did the only thing your body could offer. You stepped toward Liu.

He blinked, confused—until your hands were on his cheeks and your lips pressed firmly against his.

It wasn’t soft. It was hungry. Familiar. Everything you had missed in his absence. And for a moment, he kissed you back like he’d just won. Like he had won you.

But then you pulled back and walked across the room—straight to Jeff. His eyes flicked, unsure for the first time, but he didn’t move. Not even when you grabbed his face—palms rough against the dried blood—and kissed him, too. Slower this time—almost curious. His breath caught. His lips moved against yours like he’d been waiting for this—daring it to happen—and now it had.

You pulled back again, and it didn’t feel wrong. It felt like something terrible and perfect all at once.

You turned back to Liu—kissed him again, harder.

Then Jeff again.

Your fingers tangled in Liu’s shirt as you pulled him off the tub, guiding him toward the wall—then reached blindly for Jeff, dragging him forward until they stood side by side.

Until you were kissing one of them, and then the other, and then both—over and over—until your head spun and your heart thrashed and your lips couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

They were both rough. Both hungry. Both yours—and not. And the only thought that filled your brain was:

I need to know.

Your hand fisted into Liu’s jacket as you kissed Jeff again, tilting your head, pressing in deeper—then gasped against Jeff’s mouth as Liu gripped your waist from behind, yanking you back toward him for another kiss, possessive and desperate.

It blurred. Everything blurred. Tongues. Breath. Hands tangled in your hair. You didn’t know whose mouth you were kissing, whose fingers were on your waist, whose groan vibrated against your throat.

Only that it was too much—and not enough—and something in you cracked. The heat in the bathroom became suffocating, too thick for your thoughts to breathe.

You pulled back from both of them—chest rising and falling, lips red and swollen—and without a word, you turned and walked out.

You didn’t need to look back to know they followed—you could hear them shoving each other out of the way.

Your legs felt numb as you led them to your room, the creaky floorboards moaning under three sets of footsteps. You didn’t know if this was a mistake or salvation—only that you couldn’t not do it. Not anymore.

The door shut with a soft click behind you.

They both stood on opposite sides of the room—watching each other like wolves, like they still might lunge and tear each other apart.

“What the fuck are we doing?” Liu said hoarsely, jaw tight, eyes flicking from Jeff to you. “This isn’t—this isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

Jeff scoffed from the corner. “Says the guy who ran off like a little bitch and left his girl in my lap.”

Liu stepped forward. “You don’t get to talk about her like that.”

“Oh?” Jeff tilted his head, licking the blood from his lip. “Why not? You weren’t here to stop me.”

They took angry strides toward each other—again. The tension reigniting like gasoline on flame. But before they could touch, before fists could fly or words could cut deeper—

You grabbed Jeff’s face and kissed him, hard.

It stopped him mid-growl, his hands twitching at your sides as you poured your frustration into his mouth.

Liu swore behind you, pacing—and you broke the kiss to whirl on him and grab his shirt, dragging him close and silencing him the same way.

Another kiss. Deeper. Wilder. The only language they understood.

Jeff’s hands gripped your hips from behind before Liu shoved him away and replaced them with his own. They bickered over your shoulders, voices low and angry, but you didn’t let them finish.

You kissed Jeff again—tugging him forward. Then Liu—fingers curling into his jacket as you guided them both, step by step, toward the bed.

“You’re both so fucking loud,” you whispered, breathless against Liu’s neck. “Just… shut up.”

And they did.

Because the moment the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress and you fell back, pulling them with you, the fight turned into something else entirely. Teeth scraped against your jaw, hands tangled in your shirt—one on either side, the space between them barely wide enough for air.

They tried to fight for you. Tried to own you. But you kept them equal—a kiss for one, a kiss for the other.

Fingers sliding under fabric, bruising heat against your thighs, chest, mouth—and still you couldn’t tell whose breath was whose, whose moan curled hot against your boiling skin.

They cursed at each other over you, breathless and bitter—but whenever it got too sharp, too ugly—you silenced them again. Mouth first. Then hands. And for a moment, maybe even longer—you didn’t care if this was right or wrong.

You just wanted to feel everything. Both of them. All at once.

The mattress dipped beneath you as their weight settled on either side—Liu braced on your right, Jeff to your left. Both of them towering over you as you laid on your back. Heat radiated from both of them, breath sharp, skin flushed from the adrenaline, from you, from each other.

Liu’s hand slid under your shirt—hesitating only a second—then traveled up your stomach, callused fingers dragging heat in their wake. You gasped against his mouth as he kissed you again, deeper this time, like he was trying to stake his claim through your tongue.

Jeff chuckled low beside you. “Didn’t think you had it in you, big brother.”

You didn’t let Liu answer. Instead, you turned, lips still swollen, and kissed Jeff again—just as fiercely. He growled into it. Bit your bottom lip until you whimpered and arched your back between them. His fingers gripped your thigh, pulling it over his hip as he pressed against you—you felt the outline of his erection through his jeans.

Your body turned molten.

Fingers in your hair. Tongues tangling. Jeans scraping against bare skin. The soft creak of the bed underneath all three of you like a heartbeat, like it could barely keep up with how fast everything was escalating.

“You like being in the middle?” Jeff rasped against your jaw. “Can’t pick, so you want both? Greedy…”

You didn’t answer. But you didn’t push him away either.

You gasped when Liu tugged your shirt over your head, rough but reverent, revealing your bra that barely covered anything. He didn’t look at Jeff, didn’t even seem to see him anymore—just you, just the way your eyes fluttered when his mouth found your collarbone, the soft sound that spilled from your throat when his hand replaced his lips, trailing lower.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your skin. “You’re mine.”

Jeff scoffed, breath hot against your neck. “Pretty sure she wanted me first.”

“I came back,” Liu snapped.

“I never left,” Jeff snarled.

Your fingers gripped the back of both their necks—one in each hand—and pulled them down again.

You were drowning in them—one hand sliding under your spine, the other gripping your waist, their movements chaotic and possessive and worshipful all at once as each brother attacked opposite sides of your neck, racing to see who could leave more bruises.

You whimpered, stuck between them, dizzy on the edge of something you couldn’t name—couldn’t control.

Jeff’s voice dropped to your ear as he pulled your hips against his lap, grinding against your thigh. “You’re shaking. You like this, don’t you? You love being wanted like this.”

You gasped. You weren’t sure if it was in protest or agreement.

Liu shoved him aside and kissed you again, harder this time—desperate. “Don’t listen to him. Don’t let him twist you up. I’m right here. I’m real.”

You pushed them both back—palms to their chests, breathless and flushed, pupils blown wide. For a second, neither moved. They just stared, stunned, as if you’d taken the oxygen from the room by stepping away.

And then—your feet touched the floor.

You stood at the edge of the bed, bra-strap falling off your bare shoulder, skin flushed and marked from their mouths and hands. Your chest rose and fell as you looked down at them, at the chaos you’d created.

Liu was sitting up, chest heaving, eyes glued to you with a reverence that almost hurt. Jeff leaned back on one elbow, a smirk growing at the corner of his mouth, tongue sliding across his bottom lip like he was tasting the memory of you. You met both their gazes. Your fingers moved slowly, deliberately, hooking under the waistband of your pants.

And you smiled.

“Since you two can’t shut up,” you said, voice low and dangerous, “maybe I should show you which one of you I’m choosing.”

Their eyes snapped to your hands as you slid your pants down—inch by inch. Not rushed, not shy. You wanted them to see. You wanted them to burn.

Jeff muttered something under his breath as his eyes dragged down your body, and Liu looked like he might lose his mind, hands clenched into fists at his thighs like it was taking everything in him not to reach for you.

Your pants hit the floor.

You stepped out of them slowly, walking a slow circle in front of the bed, letting your fingers run down your own sides, over the curve of your hip, teasing the edge of your underwear—leaving nothing to imagination. Their breathing got heavier. The room got hotter.

“Still fighting?” you asked, tilting your head. “Still arguing over me?”

Neither answered. They couldn’t. You saw the tint in their jeans, the way their bulges hugged against their hips. You walked back toward the bed, and their eyes never left you. You climbed up between them again, kneeling—your mouth finding Liu’s first, devouring his stunned groan as your hand fisted in his shirt.

Then Jeff—hot, open-mouthed, teeth clashing.

You tasted like fire and they drank deep.

You stayed on your knees between them, breathing hard—feeling their eyes eat up every inch of your bare skin like they were starving.

And you knew they were.

You could feel it in the way Liu’s chest rose and fell too fast, his fists still clenched like he didn’t trust himself to move without breaking something. In the way Jeff licked his lips again, slower this time, that lazy smirk slipping into something darker, more impatient.

They’d fought for you—bled for you—and now, they were waiting. Waiting to be chosen.

You looked between them, then leaned toward Liu first. His eyes searched yours like he couldn’t believe this was real. Like he’d already convinced himself it would be taken away again. You weren’t letting him fall into that lie—not tonight.

Your fingers moved to the hem of his shirt, tugging it gently. “Up,” you said softly.

He obeyed without question, arms lifting—his breath hitching as your hands slid under the fabric, knuckles brushing his stomach before you peeled it over his head. He shivered, not from cold—but from you—from the way you looked at him now. Like he was something you’d chosen. Something you wanted to keep.

His chest bore the scars of a life lived in violence—some fresh, others long-healed. You ran your fingers over one near his ribs, soft and slow, and his eyes fluttered closed under your touch.

Then you turned to Jeff. He didn’t need asking.

He was already leaning forward, cocky grin twitching at the corner of his mouth as he tugged at the hem of his hoodie. “You gonna be gentle with me too, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer. You leaned closer, pressed your palms flat against his stomach, dragging them up slowly—watching the smirk on his face falter as you pushed his hoodie and shirt up over his head.

His torso was leaner than Liu’s—cut with the kind of sharp muscle that came from desperation, not discipline. You traced the faint lines of his abs, ignoring the way he hissed through his teeth when your nails scratched lightly down his side.

“Damn,” he muttered, watching you. “You’ve got magic hands, girl.”

You rolled your eyes and shoved him back down to sit, earning a low chuckle from him—and a jealous glance from Liu.

You looked between the two of them again, heart thudding, skin buzzing with too much sensation. You couldn’t believe this was happening—not just the touch, the skin, the fire—but the way they were looking at you. Like you were holy. Like they’d been fighting a war just to stand at your altar.

You stood up between them, looking left, then right.

You pressed a hand to each of their chests and guided them both to stand, backing them toward the foot of the bed until they were facing each other, you in the middle.

You could feel the heat rolling off their bodies. They stood still, barely breathing, as your fingers ghosted over their waistbands.

“Don’t move,” you whispered. Then you dropped to your knees.

The sound of Jeff’s breath catching was sharp. Liu exhaled like he’d been punched in the gut. You looked up at them—your hands at their hips, your mouth parted, your eyes heavy-lidded and sure.

“This is what you’ve both been fighting over, isn’t it?” you asked, voice like velvet laced with fire. “Me. On my knees for you.”

Neither of them spoke, just shot glares at the other.

You undid Jeff’s jeans first. Slowly, tugging his belt apart, pulling the zipper down, brushing your knuckles along the tight skin beneath. You didn’t pull them all the way down—not yet. Just enough to make him twitch, to make him curse softly under his breath and grip the back of your head like he was trying not to lose it. You could see the length of him in his boxers.

Then Liu. You turned and gave him the same treatment, tugging at his button, dragging your palms along the waistband, making sure your fingers brushed lower than necessary, running up the side of his bulge.

You leaned in, kissed the spot just above his hip. His knees buckled slightly. You heard him whisper your name like a prayer. 

You sat back on your heels, looking up at them both.

“You’re both mine tonight,” you said, quiet but firm. “You’ll fight later. But right now—” You smiled. “Right now, you just focus on me.”

You turned to Liu first—you owed him that much.

Liu’s breath hitched when your palm slid over his clothed cock, and his confidence to keep his attention on you all but evaporated when you drew him out of his waistband. He was long, mouth-wateringly so. Your mouth waters as you grip the base tight, so achingly hard and flushed your favorite shade of pink. Precum leaking down his glistening veins, twitching at the mere sound of your voice as you mutter, “Oh. You really did miss me.”

His brow knitted in concentration while you slowly slid your fingers over his length, dragging your hand from blushing head to thick base, unmoving until your gaze fell back on Jeff. 

All his arrogance had abandoned him, leaving the killer in a hungry stare down at your hand. Then, giddy delight overcame you, and a single stroke drew a gasp out of Liu that Jeff couldn’t ignore. His eyes glared, hands twitching at his sides like he could barely hold himself back with jealousy. If that wasn't encouragement enough, the sudden groan that slipped out of Liu while he relaxed into your fist sure was—groaning into his palm as you jerked him.

You turned back to face Liu, and Jeff swore.

“You’ve been waiting for this,” you whispered, letting your breath ghost over him. “Every night you climbed into my bed like you belonged there. Like I was already yours.”

He nodded. Swallowed hard. “You are mine,” he rasped.

You smiled. “Then prove it.”

Liu’s throbbing head pokes your kiss-bitten lips, precum salty on your tongue. You spare no mercy. Liu’s heavy breaths sound in the still air as your bruised lips inch closer to his throbbing cock. A deep breath, and you spit on his blushing head, saliva dripping down the side of his length and to where you gently grasped his base—eager to make him moan loud enough to have Jeff upset.

Liu lets out a strangled moan as you flatten your tongue and take his tip into your mouth, sucking gently. He bucks his hips into your mouth as you run your tongue along his sensitive slit “Shit- Sorry, baby. M’sorry.”

Popping off his aching cock, you press kisses to the side of his length. He groans lowly at the vibrations as Jeff snarls behind you, “Why do I have to just stand here?”

You ignored him, instead you asked Liu, "How's it feel, knowing the man you hate has to just stand there and watch me suck your dick?"

Liu’s lip curled at the very mention of Jeff, and you sped up. Whatever rage was brewing in him fizzled out in an instant, and he swallowed hard. "Feels good." He ground out between grit teeth, helpless to keep up with your pace. "Feels so—fuck, okay—" Liu chokes on his words as you take him fully into your mouth—partly because you wanted to hear him whine, and partly because wanted to hear the snarl that let out behind you.

“Sh-shit. Jus’ like that.” he rasps as you suck him at a dizzying pace. Precum drips down the side of your mouth as you take him in deeper—nose meeting the curly brown hair on his pelvis. Your mouth burns at the stretch, his hips grinding lightly into your mouth to meet each bob of your head. Your cunt aches in your panties at how desperate he is.

But this is meant to be a decisive act—so you pop off his cock, spit and precum shining across your lips as Liu whines at the loss. You give him two pumps of your fist before you’re pulling away completely, followed by a pathetic whine.

You turned to Jeff slowly—deliberately—your lips still wet, your chin still glistening with the proof of what you’d just done. His eyes dragged over your face, to your mouth, down your throat, and you saw it: He was panting.

Jeff nearly rips your hair out with the way he moves closer, searing his fingers into your hair and pressing his hips toward your face. Your hand slid across the front of his jeans—he was already hard. Painfully so. He flinched the moment you touched him, like he’d been waiting for it this whole time, suffering in silence while his brother got everything he wanted.

Good.

You hooked your fingers in his waistband and pulled, yanking his jeans down hard enough to make him stumble toward you. He was laughing—but there was no humor in it. It was sharp, shaky. Desperate.

“You just had to start with him, huh?” he muttered, voice low and strained. “Trying to kill me, sweetheart?”

You looked up at him with heat in your eyes, lips parted just slightly. “Maybe.”

Jeff didn’t flinch away when you reached up to palm him through the thin fabric of his boxers. His hips bucked into your hand—sharp, involuntary—and he groaned, biting down on the sound like it burned to let it out.

You tugged the last barrier down and watched as he hissed through his teeth, his cock springing free, heavy and already dripping. You didn’t touch him right away—just looked. Let the silence stretch. Let him suffer.

“Poor baby,” you said, saccharine sweet. “You always need what’s not yours, don’t you?”

He opened his mouth to fire back—something cocky, something cruel—but you took him into your mouth before he could say a single word.

He swore.

Moaning at his slightly salty taste, you take in as much of him as you can—inch by fucking inch. Not stopping till your nose meets the small tufts of black hair at this toned pelvis. He has been patient—loudly so—but he deserved to be rewarded.

Hips jerking so fast, his veins graze against the roof of your mouth as you start bobbing your head at a quick, ruthless pace. Milking Jeff’s heavy cock for all he’s worth. Not even easing him into it, because if he liked intense—he was going to have it.

Where Liu was all breathy groans, Jeff was loud and mouthy. “Oh- Oh fuck! Feels s’good hngh—” he babbles, hips bucking up involuntarily into your warm, plush mouth. “Shit shit shit oh—” Jeff’s carding his fingers through your hair, holding you steady as he rams his cock down your throat.

“Fuck- m’s-sorry, sweetheart. S’too ngh— fucking good.” His words slur together, drunk off the way you gag around him. Letting yourself be used as he fucks your mouth so ferally—letting his impatience simmer out through your throat.

You moaned around him just to feel him twitch.

“Fuck,” Jeff groaned, his head falling back, throat bared. “God, you’re—you’re so much worse than I thought, I swear—”

He cursed again—louder this time—as you dragged your tongue up the underside of his cock, letting it rest against your lips before swallowing him down once more, deeper this time, until he hit the back of your throat and grunted so violently you had to grip his thighs to steady him.

You pulled off before his hands could push your head any deeper, earning you a hearty swear and fingers that tried to drag you back. “No— no, wait—”

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, breath heavy, heart pounding like a war drum in your chest.

And you weren’t finished.

Not even close.

You rose to your feet just long enough to reach for Liu, tugging his hand until followed—his breath still shaky, his face flushed and eyes glazed over from how thoroughly you’d wrecked him minutes ago. But you weren’t done with him. Not by a long shot.

“Sit back,” you whispered, nudging him toward the edge of the bed.

He obeyed without question, collapsing back onto the mattress, legs parted, cock still heavy and twitching with need. You knelt again between his legs—this time slower, more intimate, dragging your nails lightly down his thighs, dragging his jeans off his hips and down to his ankles, before leaning in.

You took him back into your mouth.

Liu gasped—hands clutching the sheets now instead of your hair, trying to ground himself as your tongue slid over him, as your mouth sank down and your jaw relaxed, swallowing him deeper than before.

Your free hand reached behind you…for Jeff.

He hissed the second your fingers wrapped around his wilting cock, your grip tight, smooth, deliberate. He was still standing where you left him, staring down at you with an expression you’d never seen before—half reverent, half wrecked. Like he couldn’t believe this was happening, like he didn’t want it to stop.

Your hand pumped him in steady rhythm, just enough to keep him gasping, to keep him right on the edge while your mouth worked Liu, your tongue flicking and swirling in ways that made him groan low in his throat and whisper your name like a prayer.

And god—it was power. Having them both like this. Their hands clenched, their thighs trembling, their breath stuttering—all from you.

Jeff’s hips rocked into your hand, slow at first, like he didn’t want to break the rhythm. His voice was hoarse above you, tight with restraint. “Fuck, sweetheart… you’re really trying to kill us, huh?”

You hummed around Liu’s cock, and both of them twitched.

Liu’s hips lifted involuntarily—your hands pushed him gently back down. You set the pace. You decided who came and when and how. And the way they both looked at you—like they were afraid to move without your permission—only made it sweeter.

Your hand on Jeff picked up speed. Your mouth on Liu grew messier, wetter, filthier. And still, you didn’t stop.

You pulled off Liu with a lewd pop, strings of spit still clinging to your lips, his cock glistening and twitching from your mouth’s attention. He stared down at you, pupils blown wide, chest heaving, sweat sticking his hair to his temples. One hand gripped into the sheets; the other clenched the edge of the bed like he needed it to stay grounded.

You didn’t give him time to speak. Instead, you turned and faced Jeff.

He was already ready. Panting. Eyes nearly feral from the constant teasing you’d inflicted on him, your hand still pumping him, gliding through precum and tension and something deeper, something volatile. His hips rocked forward as you looked up at him through your lashes, your lips curled into something just shy of a smirk.

“Your turn,” you murmured.

He didn’t even speak—just growled low in his throat as you leaned in and wrapped your lips around the head of his cock, still planted between Liu’s legs.

Jeff shuddered. Loudly. Visibly.

“Jesus—fuck—you’re gonna ruin me—”

You didn’t stop. Didn’t pause. Just sucked him deeper, letting your tongue drag along the underside, your jaw relaxing, taking more of him in with every pass. His hand clamped down in your hair—tighter than Liu’s, rougher, more erratic—trying his best not to throatfuck you.

But you weren’t forgetting Liu. No, you never forgot.

Even as you swallowed Jeff down, you reached over with your free hand and wrapped it tight around his cock—stroking him slowly, purposefully, making him groan aloud as his body jolted from the sudden return of attention.

Liu’s eyes dropped closed, face tilting toward the ceiling as he bit out your name, his hand covering yours, fingers lacing as he guided your pace. Jeff, meanwhile, was a shaking mess above you, hips twitching, teeth clenched so hard you swore you could hear the strain. He tangled a fist in your hair again, trying his damn best to make you go faster.

You moaned around Jeff’s cock—and that was it.

His knees buckled, and he had to grab the bedpost beside him just to stay upright. You swallowed deeper, faster, letting him hit the back of your throat, letting him lose the rest of his restraint until he was swearing nonstop, twitching hard in your mouth. You could taste the globs of precum that shot against your tongue.

And then—

You pulled off him. Just like that. Snapping your hand off of Liu, too.

Both of them gasped—voices high, ragged, needy. And you stood up, slowly. Your lips were swollen, slick with spit and heat and satisfaction. You looked between the two of them—Liu flushed and panting, Jeff wild-eyed and shaking—and smiled like the devil.

You hooked your fingers into the clasp of your bra, and shimmied the fabric off of your shoulders. You could hear their breath hitch, Liu’s lips parting as his eyes raked over your chest. You moved to your panties next, dragging them down your thighs until Jeff nearly buckled over in want. You think they could’ve come just from the sight alone.

“Liu, stand up, sweetheart,” you purred, stepping toward him. He shuffled up and off the bed, kicking his jeans and boxers off in the process. You turned your gaze to Jeff, a fist wrapped around his cock as he pumped himself slowly.

“On the bed. Lay down. Now.” You were stern—mean—but it was the only way he would listen. Jeff didn’t even hesitate. He kicked off his jeans, too, throwing them somewhere behind you. He sat on the edge, a smug look on his face despite the way his cock twitched on his hip, still glistening with your spit.

You reached out, grabbing a fistful of his messy black hair, and tugged him up onto the bed fully. His body followed without question, cock bobbing, smeared with precum and desperation. He collapsed back against the pillows, his arms spreading wide like he owned the whole damn mattress.

“Get up here,” he rasped. “Come on, mama. Ride me.” His smirk was sharp, cocky, but his eyes told another story—wide and hungry and practically begging.

You didn’t give him a warning. You just climbed on top of him.

Your knees bracketed his head, one hand reaching between you to grab his jaw, the other bracing on his chest. He groaned deep and loud when your wet cunt hovered above his face—his hands flying around your thighs, gripping tight.

“Fuck—are you kidding?” he groaned. “You’re dripping for me.”

But you weren’t paying him full attention. Not yet. Because you looked up—and there stood Liu.

Chest rising, lips parted, pupils blown wide—watching you with something between awe and torment, his cock flushed and stiff, your spit still drying on his skin. His eyes met yours, locked tight—and in them, you saw everything: want, confusion, betrayal, longing.

You raised a hand to him, palm up.

“Come here,” you whispered.

He did. Of course he did.

He stepped in front of you, towering slightly where you straddled his brother, and you wrapped your free hand around his length again, dragging your thumb slowly along the head while you started to lower yourself onto Jeff’s face.

“Keep your mouth busy, Jeff. I don’t want to hear your whining when I make your brother cum,” you grinned up at Liu, kissing the drooling tip of his cock as you settled your hips.

“I can do that.”

And then his mouth was on you.

You gasped, hips jolting upward as Jeff’s tongue dragged through your folds, slow and savoring. His lips sealed over your clit, sucking hard, making you cry out before you even had time to muffle it. Your back arched—and Liu was right there, one hand wrapping behind your head, bending down as he kissed the edge of your jaw.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Watching you like this—seeing him taste you—”

You moaned, shivering against both of them. You looked up at Liu through heavy lashes—gaze dark, lips parted.

“You’re gonna let him have all the fun?” you whispered, your voice low, teasing, as your hand kept stroking his length in slow, deliberate pumps. “Or are you just gonna watch while I come on your brother’s tongue?”

That snapped something.

Liu growled, hands flying to your face as he kissed you—hard, possessive, his fingers digging into your hair while your moan melted against his mouth. He pushed forward, and you welcomed it, letting his cock brush your cheek, your lips, letting him drag it slowly along your tongue.

Jeff groaned beneath you, words muffled against your cunt, “C’mon now, Liu. Give the girl what she wants..” 

Searing grip on your hair, Liu pushes his cock all the way down your ready throat, using your mouth as if it was nothing more than his favorite fucktoy.

Your pathetic, wet gurgles mix with the lewd squelches of your cunt as Jeff’s tongue bullies past the tight ring of muscles. Fat head hitting the back of your throat and your nose pressed into the tufts of thick, brown hair at his pelvis. “Mmm—fuck, holy—” he groans, strong fingers pressing around your neck to feel his dick down your throat, drawing low hisses as you tongue at his slit. You breathe in the heady scent of Liu. 

“Look s’pretty gagging on his cock, baby.” Jeff’s voice is still muffled, mockingly pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Liu growls above you.

“I thought she told you to shut up.”

You slap Liu’s hip, glaring up at him as you run your tongue up the underside of his length. Your other hand moves down between you, wrapping around Jeff’s needy cock and beginning to stroke him as fast as you could, his hips stuttering up into your fist with a groan.

A weary chuckle, and Liu’s thrusting animalistically into your poor, pretty mouth, balls tightening each time his thick cock disappears into your throat, lips stretching almost-painfully to accommodate him. Liu’s hand closes tighter around your throat, blocking your airway. Making you choke and gasp for air around his cock, blood roaring in your ears the harder he pulls your hair.

Jeff’s legs were twitching closed every time your wrist twisted on the tip of his cock. Ah, he looked so pretty when he was shut up with his mouth full of your dripping cunt. Hungry whimpers leave Jeff’s throat at each flick of his tongue, fucking your pretty pussy with his mouth till you felt raw. You ground down onto his jaw, his nails digging into the creases of your thighs.

Jeff’s lips were messy with spit and arousal as he nips and teases your clit hard, making you cry out in wet, little gurgles that muffle around the throbbing erection in your mouth, fucking into you with reckless abandon. Liu’s heavy balls sting your face as he bottoms out with each harsh shove down your throat. 

He was being so rough—but maybe it was punishment for how careless you had been with him.

Your body was on fire. Your pulse thundered in your ears. And as you rode Jeff harder, your mouth working Liu deeper, your own pleasure began to crest—rising, breaking, threatening to drown you.

“Y-You’re not playing fair,” Liu choked out, voice wrecked, eyes wild. “You want both of us to lose it, don’t you?”

You moaned around him, sending vibrations up his shaft that made his hips jerk forward. You eased off for a second, lips red and swollen, a string of saliva connecting you as you gasped for air.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered hoarsely, eyes darting between them. “Maybe I want both of you to come for me.”

Jeff’s nails dug deep into your hips, snarling against your cunt as drools of precum dripped from his tip and down onto your fist tight around him.

“You first,” he growled. “You fucking first, mama. Come on. Let me have it.”

It only made sense your orgasm came with it.

You see white as you cum—or maybe that was the hot, thick ropes of seed that Liu painted your face with. Moans muffled and hips bucking deliriously, you moan breathlessly as Jeff lapped up every ounce of your spend that dripped on his tongue. He was close behind, rutting his hips up and chasing your hand as he came into your fist, smears of seed shooting into your palm and down his length.

Jeff and Liu—ever the opposite ends—somehow compromised in a split second, pushing past their hatred to manhandle you to the bed together.

Wrestled down onto the mattress by two sets of strong arms still groping the expanse of your body, you ride out your white-hot high on the taste of Liu slipping down your throat, and Jeff’s still merciless tongue. Both of them panting so hard you thought they’d pass out from the waves of their orgasm.

But they were still hungry—there was still anger boiling in their bones—you could feel it, as if their still hard cocks weren’t evidence enough.

“Fuck—Jesus, sweetheart, are you okay?” Liu panted, leaning down to where you were laid on the bed, kissing your lips as he wiped the strings of his cum off your cheek. You nodded, going to wrap your arms around his shoulders—before you felt his body being shoved off of yours.

Jeff’s mouth found yours faster than you could argue, hungry nips of his teeth on your bottom lip before he bullied his tongue into your mouth. You whined in protest, nails digging into his taught shoulders as he held your jaw open with one hand, and shoved Liu away with the other.

“Can you taste it?” He panted into your mouth, smearing his tongue across your lips, “Can you taste your pussy? So fucking good.” He groaned, tugging you off your back and closer to his chest, palming at your tits that felt so heavy on your chest. He pinched a nipple, making you hiss.

Liu didn’t take being cut off kindly. He wrapped a fist into the back of Jeff’s hair, jerking his mouth off of yours with a snarl from his brother—whose fingers were still rolling your nipples. You felt dizzy as he grabbed your throat, wrapping a hand around the expanse, and dragged your mouth to his.

“I want to taste—” He whined, pressing tongue-first into the hot heat of your mouth, tasting what Jeff has left behind. “I want to taste you, too.”

“Dramatic, much?” Jeff shuffled behind you, dragging your hips back until the swell of your ass pressed back against his hips, his cock slotting against your backside. Liu is languid and desperate where Jeff is impatient and starved, rutting desperately against your ass. It was overwhelming, to say the least—but you don’t think you would like it if it was just one of them. Both, you decided, both were good.

Delicate strings of saliva and slick you and Liu as drool drips down the corner of your mouth, eyes scrunched closed at the pleasure. Jeff lets a rough hand palm at your tits, while the other reaches around your hips to slide two fingers between your messy folds, collecting all the slick still pooling there. Your hips jerk involuntarily, knees pressing into the mattress as Jeff teases your entrance, but pulls away before your hips have time to shift downward.

“Watch it, Jeffrey.” Liu spits out, eyeing Jeff’s fingers inching closer and closer to your ass, deftly prodding at your quivering entrance. Yet, his movements only grow more urgent, kissing your chastly once more before he’s dragging your hips toward him.

Liu lays back against the pillows, dragging you with him, shaky legs steadying on either of his bony hips as he pumps his cock, tugging your face closer so he can kiss you again—he just couldn’t get enough of the taste. But bent over, leaning forward to kiss him, Jeff takes his opportunity—he always has been a man of chance.

You shiver at the cold feeling of his middle finger hitting your rim, circling it just to watch the way your hole quivers so obscenely for him. 

Liu only has his flushed tip kissing your folds, but you already feel so fucking full. He hissed through his teeth the second your wet heat touched his tip—his hands flying to your thighs, gripping tight. Maybe it was the way Jeff was now bullying long, pale fingers through that first, tight little circle of muscle, scissoring you open, hooking a thumb to stretch your slutty hole till he was more than satisfied. You whined at the feeling, the electric stings that ran up your spine as he pressed another finger in. The only thing keeping you from shifting away was the bruising grips both pairs of hands had on your hips and waist.

The moment Liu slid inside you, a moan cracked from your lips—high and stuttering—and Liu swore hard beneath you, his hips jerking up to meet yours. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, despite the panic setting in, as he pushes deeper and deeper. Inch by inch. “Fucking hell,” he gasped. “So tight—I’m not gonna last if you squeeze me like that—shit—”

You clenched around him on purpose, just to feel him twitch inside you, just to feel the tremble in his thighs. Liu whines your name like you just slapped him.

“C’mon, big bro. That hardly seems fair. Don’t be greedy.” Jeff taunts, pumping two long, curling fingers into your ass as Liu lowers your hips to the hilt, burying his cock in your fluttering cunt. It’s mind-numbing. Your hips begin to rock before you can even stop yourself, grinding on Liu’s cock and pressing back on Jeff’s fingers.

“Jeff— Jeffrey. C’mon, c’mon. Fuck me, too— Need it—” You’re babbling now, words coming out in hiccups and chokes as Liu grips your tired hips and begins to bounce you, planting his feet into the mattress to piston up into you. His patience is dwindling—and fast.

“Jesus Christ, Liu. Where did you find her?” Jeff laughs, dry and panicked, like he can’t pull his fingers out fast enough. You’re not nearly as ready as you should be, but with the way your stomach coils every time Liu’s cockhead knocks your cervix, there’s nothing you can do to stop yourself. “Don’t worry, mama. Gonna fuck you so full.”

And at that last word, Jeff’s leaking tip pushes past your entrance—longer than Liu, and somehow worse—grunting at the resistance that came with being so fucking full from both ends. Liu’s movements slow to a stop when he feels Jeff, planting your hips flush against his and burying himself completely as his brother works himself in. You can feel tears spill past your lashes and onto your cheeks.

Jeff’s hand snakes around your hip to wildly draw circles on your clit, jolting at the overstimulation, whining deliriously as both brothers bottom out inside of you. Full—so painfully full—but it felt so right. Both of them panted and moaned against you, hands and nails gripping any area of skin they could grab.

“Oh my god, this is better than I ever imagined,” Jeff gasped, bucking his hips up into you. “You taking both of us—fuck, you’re filthy.”

You didn’t care, not when they both began to move.

“Oh— oh fuck. Can’t— Too much. Hah—” raspy moans ripped from your throat at each little movement, hips moving in a mindless tandem with them as they start thrusting in slow, experimental thrusts. 

“Awww, look at her— hah— cock-drunk little whore can’t even speak.” Jeff taunted, one hand circling against your clit, the other wrapping around your arm to pinch at your nipples as they bounced. Delicate tears stream down your face.

You could feel the burning stretch as their throbbing cocks rubbed against each other through your walls—Liu in your cunt and Jeff in your ass. Balls smacked against your stinging skin and their prominent veins massaging your snug cunt just right. The slapping of skin and throaty grunts have your head spinning.

A wolfish bite on your exposed neck—Jeff—as he tried to keep himself together, arching you deeper into him, thrusts stemming from a carnal, depraved part of him. Faster. “Nasty girl. You love this, don’t you?” he purrs, amusement evident in his tone.

“Ah. So good, princess. You’re sucking me in so good. Ah—fuck. Feels so good.” Liu huffed underneath you, slamming your hips down onto his—like he couldn’t get his heady cock deep enough.

With a harsh slap to your clit, both men speed up their pace in your sloppy holes. Relishing in the precum and slick dripping down their sensitive lengths, and the creamy rings forming around their bases. Your headboard knocked against the wall, rattling the whole room around you.

You felt the boys shift, Jeff pressing your forward with his chest against your back, Liu shifting upwards. You were pressed between them, skin slapping so obscenely you prayed no one had decided to pay a visit downstairs within the last hour.

You thought Liu was going for a kiss, but when he passed your lips and wrapped his mouth around the crook of your neck—the brothers must have given each other a look—because Jeff’s lips pressed the opposite shoulder in the same spot.

“Liu— Hah— Jeff— I’m, M’gonna cum— Please—”

Liu bit down, hard. Not harsh. Not violent. But claiming—just enough to make you gasp and arch against them, your fingers digging into his wrists and skin.

Jeff didn’t miss a beat. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, tilting your face to him just as he leaned in, his lips brushing the other side of your neck, right where your pulse fluttered hot and frantic. Then he bit too. Slower. Lazier. His teeth sank in deeper, and his tongue flicked against your skin after, soothing the sting. You gasped again, a tremor rolling through your spine.

“Aw,” Jeff murmured, lips still pressed to your skin, “she liked that.”

Liu growled low beneath you, his grip on your waist tightened. “Don’t push it.”

Jeff just laughed, soft and cocky, like he was already halfway to doing it again.

They were too busy to notice the way you jerked your hips frantically, too worried about scowling at the other to realize your moans nearly rattled the paintings on your wall.

This orgasm is more intense than the last. Supported by Jeff and Liu’s strong arms, spread open and stuffed so shamefully by their throbbing cocks. Your head is thrown back, voice-shot as broken moans leave your swollen lips. The brothers curse loud as they feel you clamp down, their browns knotting as their paces falter.

“F-fuck, princess. Gonna—”

All it takes are your half-lucid, fucked out mewl, walls wrestling with the effort to clench around them, for Liu to slam into you purposefully—once, twice—before spilling into you with a guttural groan. “Hngh— M’cumming. Oh, god m’cumming, princess. Ah— Pussy feels so good.”

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill your snug cunt. You could feel the warmth pooling in your stomach, Liu’s cum already dripping from your folds and onto his pelvis. You’re dead weight in their arms, Jeff slowing his pace in your ass to a stop, before pulling out with a wince.

Did he cum? You didn’t have time to ask, he was already tugging your hips up.

“Switch. Wanna cum in her pretty cunt.”

You jolt as Liu snarks under his breath, pulling out his softening head with a lewd pop. A wave of his hot cum gushes out of your sloppy hole, pooling so sinfully beneath you.

Your body is limp, brain not catching up yet, too fucked out. Your drooling cunt barely resists as Jeff presses his rock-hard tip inside, pulsing with need. He drags your hips up, forcing you to arch on top of Liu as you both pant, Liu finding your lips and snagging another kiss.

“Yeah, that’s right. Take it.” Jeff grunts lowly, hands gripping the divot of your hips as his thick cum spurts uncontrollably from his twitching cock. He missed your hole slightly, splattering on your ass, but pushed his leaking head inside in desperate, shallow thrusts. He just needed it inside you.

Jeff pushed in all the way to the hilt, and let himself cum deep into your snug cunt, fluids mixing with Liu’s as he panted behind you. You felt his cock twitch, then another couple of drops of cum ran between your thighs. You were full. Ruined.

He pulled out a second later, sitting back on his haunches as groped your ass. He tugged your folds to the side with his thumb, watching as drools and globs of cum spilled from your loose hole. He could practically hear him purr.

“Liu, man. You gotta see this.”

You felt Jeff’s arms wrap around your middle, pulling you back against his chest and off of Liu—who tried to chase your lips as you left. He went to say something to Jeff—but when he pulled you back into his lap and held your legs apart—Liu was left dumbfounded.

“Oh, sweet girl,” he groaned, pressing forward at the sight. Liu’s long fingers found your entrance, scooping bits of cum that had leaked out and pressing them back inside you. You gasped, eyes fluttering closed as Jeff wrapped a hand around your jaw, kissing your flushed cheeks as he pushed his hand down too.

“So pretty,” Jeff hummed.

They didn’t try to make you cum—you didn’t think you could any more—it was more like they were trying to make sure their spend stayed where it rightfully belonged. Two of Liu’s fingers, one of Jeff’s—pumped their fingers into your cunt with languid, lazy rolls of their wrists.

You whined around the feeling, stomach tensing every time Jeff curled his finger along with the stretch of Liu’s. At least they’re working together, you thought. When they were satisfied, they tugged their fingers out, digits covered in your slick and their own cum.

The room was warm with the kind of silence that only followed something seismic.

The storm had passed—left in its wake tangled limbs, flushed skin, and a quiet too heavy to be awkward. Just… complete. Exhaustion clung to every breath, every slowed heartbeat. The sheets were a mess, the bed half-off the frame, but no one moved to fix it.

You were curled back in Jeff’s lap, your bare legs draped lazily over Liu’s thighs where he sat close. Jeff’s arms were looped loosely around your waist, his chin on your shoulder. Liu leaned into your side, one hand on your knee, the other resting on the curve of your hip, like he wasn’t quite ready to let go of you either.

You felt like something sacred and dangerous—like a secret neither of them could stop whispering to the other.

Jeff was the first to move, brushing his lips along the side of your face with a gentleness you didn’t expect from someone so sharp around the edges.

“You’re trouble,” he mumbled, voice rough with sleep and something like affection. “Beautiful, beautiful trouble.”

You smiled faintly, leaning into him lazily, eyes fluttering closed as he kissed the corner of your mouth. You were so exhausted, eyes barely opening every time they blinked closed.

Then Liu’s hand came up to cup your cheek. You turned instinctively toward him, and he kissed the opposite side of your face—slow, grounding, like he was making sure you felt everything he couldn’t quite say.

“You’re mine,” he murmured, soft and ragged. “I don’t care what else happens. You’re mine.”

“From the looks of things—” Jeff started, but you slapped his thigh before he could continue.

“Hush.”

You couldn’t look away from Liu—not even when Jeff let out a quiet snort of protest and gently turned your face back toward him, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. Not greedy. Not teasing. Just a show of want.

“Mm,” Jeff murmured, pulling back just enough to grin against your mouth. “You’re ours, baby. Better get used to it.”

Liu didn’t argue—not this time.

Instead, he just leaned in and kissed you again too—slow, deep, lingering—like maybe, just for a second, the war between them had quieted.

And maybe—for now—that was enough.

── .✦

The days that followed blurred in slow-motion.

Not because they were forgettable—but because they were soft.

In the mornings, you woke up between two bodies instead of one. You still hadn’t figured out how they managed to sneak in without waking you—sometimes Liu on your right and Jeff on your left, other times tangled up in a mess of limbs like neither could decide where they belonged more.

But you never woke up alone anymore.

And that—more than anything—was what had changed.

Liu still hung around like he always did, his presence calm and grounding, his way of touching you more thoughtful now. Protective, but not in a way that made it feel fleeting.

And Jeff—well. Jeff was there now too.

Uninvited at first, but clearly not planning on leaving anytime soon. He’d wander through the kitchen in the mornings like he owned it, shirtless, hair a wreck, stealing bites of whatever you were cooking like he wasn’t the reason you burned half of it.

And Liu, infuriatingly, didn’t kick him out anymore.

Not even when Jeff would come up behind you at the sink, slink his arms around your waist, and rest his chin on your shoulder while mumbling some flirty little praise like, “Damn, mama, you really can do it all.”

Liu would just grunt, mutter something about “only touch her in bed,” and then slap Jeff on the back of the head if he got too handsy.

Which, of course, only made Jeff more handsy.

They still bickered.

Still had trouble sharing—stole kisses like it was a game, like they were always trying to outdo each other. Jeff with his cocky grin and teasing hands, Liu with his slow-burn touches and deep, loaded stares.

But there was something different now—an unspoken truce. A mutual understanding that they’d both crossed lines they couldn’t uncross—and for once, they weren’t trying to destroy each other over it.

Still, the domesticity came with a price.

You couldn’t count how many times someone from Slender’s mansion showed up at the In-Between House and immediately rolled their eyes.

Like when Hoodie dropped by and caught Liu folding your laundry while Jeff tossed socks at him across the room. “Did I miss the wedding?” Hoodie deadpanned, arms crossed in the doorway.

Or when Natalie found you wedged between them on the worn-out living room couch, Liu asleep with his head on your thigh and Jeff drawing little circles into your collarbone like it was nothing.

“Christ,” she muttered, “you guys are the worst thruple I’ve ever seen. I hope you’re at least putting on a show for rent.”

Toby, of course, made the worst comments.

“Hot,” he said the moment he spotted all three of you shirtless in the kitchen one night. “G-Gross, but hot.”

Still, for all the teasing—for all the weirdness that came with trying to blend three broken people into one makeshift home—there was a peace to it. A rhythm.

Sometimes Liu left for a mission. Sometimes Jeff disappeared for a day or two, chasing chaos wherever it called. But no matter what—you weren’t sleeping alone anymore, you weren’t left wondering where you stood, you weren’t caught in the middle of feelings and morals.

It was peaceful.

Of course, “peace” was a flexible concept.

Especially now.

Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

๑ back to my masterlists

You’ve only been here a week. The others mostly leave you alone, but you can feel the eyes. You smell like flesh and dirt and bad decisions. They know what you are. You’re a cannibal, same as Jack. But Jack’s been here longer. He’s not just another creep. He’s the fucking cannibal. And you’re afraid he’s gonna see you as competition.

Or worse, an intruder.

You’re not here to offer a sacrifice for his mercy. You’re here to be normal. To knock on the door like a grown-ass human being and say, “hey, just wanted to introduce myself, I’m new, I eat people too but I’m not gonna step on your turf, all good?”

Y’know. Proffessional courtesy.

You don’t even know if he cares, but it's been gnawing at you all week. He hasn’t looked twice at you, hasn’t said a single word -but that just makes it worse. You can’t tell if he’s ignoring you, tolerating you, or planning to dissect you in your sleep. So you’re gonna clear the air.

You take a deep breath, straighten your spine, and knock.

You expect silence.

You expect slow, heavy footsteps.

You expect him to open the door with that same blank stillness that makes your stomach twist -stoic, unreadable, the kind of presence that makes you feel like prey even when you’re not. You hope you're not, at least.

You do not expect it to swing open less than a second later like he was already right there .

And you definitely don’t expect what’s behind it.

Jack stands in the doorway, barechested and heaving. His presence hits you like a freight train: six foot seven of solid, silent terror. Black, scarred, empty sockets that somehow still manage to pin you in place. His skin has a weird, almost too-warm flush to it - gray tinged with red, like stone under heat. There’s a light sheen of sweat across his collarbones. His hair is damp. His claws twitch, flexing in and out of fists at his sides. And worst of all - he fucking stinks.

Not like gore. Not like antiseptic. Not like you. Not bad, but strong.

He smells like sex, like pure pheromones. Like heat and musk and ozone and blood and salt, like ancient stone cracking under pressure, like the kind of sex that leaves crescent shaped bite marks and bruises in the shape of unrestrained hands.

“...Hi,” you say, weakly.

His head tilts. His nostrils flare.

“New proxy,” he says. Voice like gravel, deeper than you imagined. Rough.

“Y-Yeah. I... I just came to say, like, I’m not here to… step on your toes or anything? I know we’re both, uh. Y’know.” You gesture vaguely, too nervous to say the word cannibal for some reason. “I don’t want beef. Pun not intended.” You're rambling. God, shut up.

Jack exhales through his nose. It almost sounds like a laugh. Almost.

“I know.”

His voice is slow. Controlled. Too controlled. Like every word has to push through clenched teeth.

You shift in place. “You, uh… okay, man?”

He closes his eyes - what’s left of them, anyway. His claws clench into his fists, then relax.

“No.”

Oh.

You blink. “...Do you want me to go?”

“No.”

Your brain makes a soft popping noise.

You try to take a step back anyway, but one of his claws lifts, just slightly; not threatening, more like a halt gesture.

“It’s mating season.”

You freeze.

“I- what the fuck.”

Jack doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t leer. Doesn’t do anything .He just stands there, flushed and feverish and breathing like he ran a marathon. But the air around him feels hot, electric, heavy. You feel it in your stomach, in your teeth.

“I’m not going to touch you,” he says, jaw tight. “I have control.”

You believe him. That’s somehow worse.

Your voice comes out hoarse. “I didn’t know. I- fuck. I wouldn’t have come here if I knew.”

“I know.” Another breath. “You couldn’t have known.”

He leans a shoulder against the doorframe like his legs are tired, body vibrating with the effort of staying still.

“I can smell you,” he murmurs. “You’re afraid.”

“Yeah. A little.”

“I’m not a threat.”

You almost laugh. “You sure look like one.”

That earns a sound from him - low and dry, almost a chuckle. Barely. Not really. “I won’t hurt you. But if you’re going to stand there, I need you to say what you came to say,”

Right. Words. You had a plan.

“I’m not competition,” you blurt. “I’m not here to challenge you, I don’t even want the woods, I’m barely domesticated enough to live in a house, and I’m scared shitless of you, so please don’t eat me?”

Silence.

Then, deadpan: “You’re not very threatening.”

You look up sharply. He’s watching you, what’s left of his expression unreadable - but his mouth twitches, the ghost of a smile. Still tense. Still fevered. Like a beast in a cage, pacing internally, chained by sheer willpower and nothing else.

You manage a laugh. Weak. Awkward. “Right. Okay. I’ll just- go.”

His fingers twitch. You take a step back.

And then, his voice - low, raw, almost slurred with restraint:

“If you don't have a peace offering, you could always offer yourself.”

It hits you like a bullet.

You freeze. Blink. Your brain throws up the blue screen of death.

Your eyes snap to his. Not that there’s much to see - but something moves in his face, a flicker of realization. Like his mouth acted before his brain.

Jack’s jaw tightens, and for a moment, the air feels razor sharp.

“...That was a joke.”

Bullshit.

You don’t say anything. Can’t. You just stare, pulse hammering, skin prickling. He’s not smiling. He’s not leering. But something about the way he said it - low, even, matter-of-fact - is so much worse. Like it wasn’t a threat. Like it wasn’t even fantasy. Just a passing suggestion. A biological truth.

Your breath catches. You definitely didn’t mean to look at him the way you did, like you’re not just scared, but curious too. Like some lizard part of your brain is weighing it; like it wants to know what kind of creature could say something that filthy with a face so blank.

And he smells it.

Your arousal isn't loud. It's not dramatic. But it’s there. A flash of curiosity through the panic, an ugly little throb in the base of your spine, something your body registered before your brain could veto it.

His body goes still.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink.

But his chest rises, slow and deep, as he inhales – and you see it hit him like a fucking punch. His throat bobs. His claws twitch. His stance shifts just barely forward, toward you.

“…Fuck,” he mutters.

Your heart seizes.

“Okay, what the fuck was that-”

“I told you,” he cuts in, voice low, rough, tight. “It’s mating season.”

“That didn’t sound like a seasonal allergy just now, man, you sounded like you were about to-”

“I wasn’t.”

“You aren’t now?”

“I’m not going to touch you.”

He says it like a promise. Not to you - to himself.

You swallow around the lump in your throat.

Jack’s chest is still heaving, slow and deliberate, like he’s meditating through it. You don’t miss the flex of his fingers. The faint tremble in his shoulders. And worst of all, the fact that he’s still staring, like you’re a threat, or prey, or a goddamn solution.

“…Didn’t mean to say that,” he mutters.

“You did,” you say quietly.

“Didn’t mean for you to hear it.”

You should leave.

You know that. Every cell in your body is screaming it, but your feet don’t move. You don’t want to die or find out what happens if you don't die. But your mind is tangled, twisted, caught somewhere between fear and what if.

“...You’re still standing there,” he says.

You nod. “So are you.”

Silence, another breath.

“You should leave.”

You nod again. “I know.”

Neither of you moves.

And in that moment, everything is suspended - your pulse, the air, time itself. Jack stares at you like he’s memorizing you. Every molecule of scent, every twitch of your breath. Like he’s holding himself together cell by cell.

“You’re not a threat,” he says finally. Quietly. “But you are dangerous.”

“To you?”

His mouth twitches. That almost-smile again.

“To me,” he echoes, “and to yourself.”

You swallow. “...You’d still fuck me, though.”

That catches him.

Something flickers under his skin, his jaw flexing tight as he stares at you like he didn’t just imagine it - but heard it, loud and clear, from the source. He doesn’t answer right away.

But when he does, it’s barely a whisper.

“...If you asked.”

You almost shudder on the spot.

The weight of those three words drops into your spine like a stone. Not if he wanted to. Not if he could. If you asked.

You don’t know how the words come out of your mouth. You don’t even feel your lips move. It’s like something else in you - deeper, hungrier - took the wheel and said,

“I’d ask.”

His breath stops.

The silence that follows is indecent. Your ears ring with it. You watch Jack go still, not like a man - like a beast feeling the air shift before a quake. His head tilts the slightest bit down, his nostrils flare again, and his lips part like he’s tasting your fucking soul in the air.

Then, slowly, like he's afraid to break the spell, he steps aside.

You cross the threshold.

And you're immediately hit with a wall of scent so thick and delicious it curls into your lungs and lingers like smoke. Blood, coppery and sharp, but not stale - fresh enough to hum beneath your skin. A faint iron tang, the subtle, meaty funk of consumed organs. And underneath all of it, him. That deep, heavy, impossibly male scent that makes your legs tremble and your mouth go dry.

The door closes behind you with a click.

Jack doesn’t move right away.

He just looks at you. The tension in his body is so sharp it practically hums, his shoulders rigid, hands flexed and trembling at his sides, claws curling like he’s trying to crush the air. His chest rises in slow, shallow gulps, like every breath iss work.

Then he speaks. Voice low. Graveled. Careful.

“One last warning.”

You don’t answer. Not out loud. Your gaze stays locked on him. It feels like he's watching your throat move as you swallow.

“You don’t know what this is,” he says, and for the first time, it’s not calm. It’s strained. “This isn’t like fucking some guy in the mansion. I'm not human. It hurts. It's violent. I’ll lose control for hours. It’ll leave marks. You’ll feel it for days. Maybe longer.”

He’s not boasting. Not posturing. There’s no lust-drunk swagger, no smirk, no game. Just raw, desperate honesty, dragging out of him like it physically hurts to say it. Like his mind it battling between the need to warn and save himself the guilt - and the need to fuck and breed and devour.

And despite every survival instinct shrieking in your bones, you stay.

You nod. “I know,” you whisper.

“You don’t.”

“I don’t care.”

You mean it. You don't know why, but you mean it. Even if your hands are shaking. Even if you feel like you might pass out from sheer adrenaline. You don't know if it’s insanity or instinct or just some deep, terrifying desire, but something in you wants this. Wants him. Like an offering to a god that never learned how to be merciful.

Jack takes one step toward you.

Then another.

You try not to flinch.

His fingers reach out - hesitate - then curl just barely beneath your chin, tilting your face up. His touch is hot, impossibly warm for someone who looks like a walking corpse, and his claws tremble where they rest near your throat. You can tell he’s holding back by the millimeter. That he could shred through skin and muscle and tendon and bone without any effort.

His voice drops lower, almost broken.

“I won’t take what isn’t offered,” he murmurs. “Say it. Or walk away.”

You stare up at him, skin buzzing, breath shallow.

“…I want you."

Jack’s restraint snaps.Not in some sudden, ravaging burst. But like a beast unchained. Controlled, deliberate, inevitable.

His lips barely graze yours. Just hovering.

“…Fuck,” he growls.

And he lunges. Not with speed - just momentum. Gravity. A controlled collapse.

His mouth crashes onto yours, and you feel the teeth first, sharp and pointed and dragging - but not bitting. Not yet. They graze. They threaten. They tease the edge of pain. And then his tongue follows.

It drags over your lips. Slips past your teeth. You can’t breathe, can’t think, and by the time he bites - your lower lip, a clean tear that sounded like nosing into a summer peach - you were already breathless, enough to gasp silently and jerk back on instinct.

The taste of your own blood floods your mouth, and he moans. Deep, equal parts strained and relieved, like you just fed him.

His hand fists in your hair. The other splays across your lower back, dragging you flush to his chest. You can feel every taut, strained inch of him. Every hard line.

Then his tongue pushes back into your mouth, thick and intrusive, and it carries your blood with it, making you taste it. Your whimper tastes even sweeter in his mouth.

His claws rake lightly up your back - slow and warning, but not enough to slice, just enough to make your skin scream. And then one palm cups your ass, the other grips your waist, and he groans like your body just did something to him.

“You taste good,” he pants into your neck. “You smell like- fuck, you don’t even know-”

He licks a stripe up your throat. You feel his tongue flick over a pulse point, but you swear you feel something more there. You don't have time to dwell on it, but your pulse is fluttering now.

His teeth nip your skin. Break it. Blood wells. He laps it up, groaning again, cracked and raw and feral.

Hands roam. Bold. Bruising. Claiming. Gripping you like you’re already his. His mouth stays locked on your throat, jaw, shoulder - biting, licking, drinking. And for a moment, he pulls back just to take you in, your taste, your smell, your fucking essence thick in his nostrils like summer air, lips wet with your blood.

“I can't go easy on you,” he repeats, voice barely held together. “I’m not human. I can’t do human.”

You don’t answer. You grab his face and kiss him again, and he bursts at the seams. Moaning into your mouth, hands everywhere, blood smeared between you, tongue tangling with yours like he’s trying to devour you from the inside out.

You’re still reeling from the kiss - bloody, deep, consuming - when his mouth moves back to your throat.

This time, the teeth sink deeper.

No more testing, no more gentle nips. He bites, hard enough that your knees almost give. Sharp canines sink into the soft muscle where your shoulder meets your neck, gums pressing into the immeidate swelling, and you yelp - half pain, half fucked-up thrill. He moans around the wound like it’s the sweetest fucking thing he’s ever tasted.

"That's better," he growls into your skin, lapping at the blood. “That’s what I wanted.”

Your clothes don’t stand a fucking chance.

His claws catch your shirt and rip. Fabric tears like wet paper. He’s not even trying to be careful. Just shreds it off, mouth biting its way down your chest, your ribs, your stomach - leaving bruises, welts, more shallow punctures. Blood blooms in hot trails, and he follows every drop with his tongue.

His hands, huge and clawed and not crafted for love, grip your hips hard enough to bruise as he throws you onto the bed, clothes half-hanging off, breath caught in your throat.

You're still catching up, still blinking at him towering at the foot of the bed, shirtless, panting like he ran miles, sweat slick on his chest and broad shoulders, your blood staining his lips... And then he's on his knees.

You expect his tongue again.You expect a tongue.

When his mouth drops between your legs and his face splits open wider than it has any right to, you barely have time to process what you're eyes are being flashbanged by.

Three tongues. Long, thick, slick with saliva. Moving independently. And they descend on you, no warning, no tease. He doesn't have time for that shit.

Just devastation.

He shoves your thighs apart and dives in, tongues moving like they’ve been starving for this - two spreading you open, one plunging deep and curling inside your cunt, fucking you while he holds you up like you weigh nothing.

You scream. Not just moan - wail. Because it’s too much. Wet, hot, writhing pressure on every nerve all at once, wasting no time in easing you into this otherwordly genre of overhwelm, like his mouth was built to destroy you.

"What the fuck-" you yelp, hands flying to his hair, half prying him off, half pulling him deeper like you can't take it but want to.

And he growls into you. Deep, low, inhuman. The sound vibrates against your pussy, against your fucking soul, a guttural snarl like some wild thing burying its face in a fresh kill.

He's jacking himself off the entire time; fist pumping slowly, strangling, precum drooling from the head of his cock, but not enough. Not nearly enough. This isn't for pleasure. It's just to keep from exploding.

His claws dig into your thighs as he lifts your hips off the bed like you're weightless, mouth working between your legs, tongues licking, twisting, ravaging.

Your back arches, you can’t breathe. You’re crying out something barely resembling his name, just guttural syllables and sobs, because it’s so much. Too much. So wet. So loud. Slurping, snarling, every movement feral and unrelenting.

When one of his tongues flicks over your clit and the others deepen, you lose it with no warning. Your orgasm hits like a brick wall, blinding and sudden, and you keen again - legs shaking, thighs clamping around his head, and he growls louder.

Moans. Keeps fucking eating you. Keeps jacking himself harder, like your orgasm made him hungry.

Because it did.

He breaks off only when you're twitching, overstimulated, barely conscious, and even then he doesn’t speak. He just pants against your thigh, teeth latched to the soft skin there like a leech, blood and slick and saliva smeared across his mouth, stroking himself like he’s about to burst.

You're still trembling when he yanks your hips down the bed, claws dragging over your skin like he doesn’t even realize he’s touching you that hard. There's leftover blood, slick, spit, and he licks it off his palm like he can't help himself, before bracing himself over you - and that's when you see his cock.

Big is an understatement. It's obscene.

Long, thick, heavy, and curved just enough to make your insides clench on instinct. The skin is flushed dark, veins bulging, and it looks angry, like it’s been aching, throbbing, desperate for this for years.

You flinch when he lines up, heart thudding, and he hears it.

You expect another warning, maybe some stoic restraint. But no.

Jack leans in- panting, black sockets narrowed like every second he's not bruising your cervix is fucking strenuous - and spits in your mouth.

Heavy, hot, thick - your blood, his saliva, the mess of you - and your mouth is too open in shock to stop it.

"Swallow," he growls.

You do.

And that’s when he thrusts in, like the spit was only a diversion, like a doctor distracting a patient with small talk before driving a needle into their arm.

No teasing. No easing you into it. Just shoving the whole thick length of himself inside you in one brutal, unforgiving motion.

It's so fucking vicious that your scream catches in your throat, strangled and pained.

The stretch burns, splits you open, the pain folding over into something too deep and too hot to name. And he doesn’t fucking stop—doesn’t give you time to breathe before he’s got both your legs bent and pinned to your chest, folding you like laundry, forcing deeper.

His strength is terrifying.

He holds you down like nothing. Just one hand pinning your thigh against you, the other wrapping tight around your throat, thumb under your chin to tilt your head back, making you look at him - if you could see anything past the blur of tears and fucked-out haze.

His hips snap forward and you wail.

“Ohh, fuck,” Jack groans, voice thick, rough, feral, pace already too fast, too hard, too deep. “Tight little thing. Been starving for this. So- fucking- tight.”

The praise isn’t sweet. It’s raw. Like he’s talking to himself more than you. Like every inch of him is relieved to finally, finally bury himself in something hot and wet and clenching and have the weight of this blistering heat lifted off his shoulders.

“Feel that?” he grits through his teeth, pounding into you with quick snaps of his hips, deep enough to make the bed cry out lbeneath you. “Sucking me in- like you were made for it.”

You whimper, mouth open, barely forming words. His grip on your throat tightens- not enough to stop your air, just enough to control it.

“You’re gonna take every fucking inch,” he growls. “Take what I give you. Take- all of it."

His pace turns brutal. Every thrust punches a sound out of you - raw, helpless cries drowned out by the wet slap of skin, your blood and slick smearing between your bodies.

And still, he holds you there. Bent. Exposed. Pinned. You can’t move. Can’t run. Can’t breathe. Just heave and wheeze out broken animal whines while he fucks into you like his sole purpose in life is to breed.

And when he shifts his angle, grinding deep, dragging against the spot inside you that makes your vision white out, you cum with a strangled sob. Instantly, without as much as a heads-up from your pussy.

He feels it.

The overstimulation has you clawing at his arms, legs shaking, breath catching on every moan that tears out of you, but all Jack does is growl. Low and heavy in your ear, dark praise melting into the crackling static of pure need.

“Fuck- there it is,” he snarls, still rutting into you, relentless. “That’s it, yeah- So fucking good for me. Just like that- fuck yes- just like that.”

"God, keep fucking clenching," he pants, voice thick with hunger, hips slamming against yours with brutal rhythm. "Tight little cunt. Gonna make me lose my fucking mind."

You’re whimpering - high and broken - when he finally pulls out with a wet pop that leaves your pussy gaping, twitching around nothing.

Before you can even think of begging for a break, you're flipped onto your stomach, your face barely sinking into his sheets before he slams back in from behind with a ragged, guttural snarl. You cry out, hands scrambling for grip, spine arched in a shiver of pain and heat as he bottoms out in one vicious thrust.

The stretch is horrible all over again. You're soaked, so open and used already, and still - he splits you wider.

Jack’s claws dig into the soft meat of your ass as he grabs two full handfuls, dragging you back into every sharp, hungry thrust. The sound is feral - skin clapping, bedsprings shrieking, his lupine growls vibrating in your chest.

Then his hand finds your hair.

Jack wraps it around his fist like a rope and yanks your head back, arching your spine and baring your throat. His pace never falters. He fucks you like he needs it to survive, like your body was made to take this. (It wasn't.)

You barely get a breath before his grip changes again - his arm slides around your neck, elbow snug against your throat, and he pulls you upright into him. Your back arches tight like a drawn bow, head lolling on his shoulder as he bends down to snarl into your ear.

The other hand slides over your stomach, down low, low, palming the spot where his cock bulges inside you, visible and so fucking deep.

“Feel that?” Jack breathes, breath hot and ragged. “That’s how fucking deep you're taking me. That's how deep you're gonna take my seed."

You can’t even speak. Just shudder and whimper, stuffed so full it aches deep in your belly. The arm around your neck tightens just enough to make you dizzy - floaty, pliant, mind slipping out of your control.

Right where your shoulder meets your neck, his teeth sink in deep again, sharp teeth and longer canines piercing skin like butter. You yelp, back arching harder, but he just holds you there, locked tight in his grip as blood wells up and rolls down your chest. His tongue drags over it, lapping it up greedily, moaning like your essence is just fueling Chernabog inside him. To breed, to fuck, to relieve, to destroy.

“Fuck... fuuuck me,” he snarls, every word a tremor. “Gonna fucking fill you- Breed this tight pussy, shit-"

He slams into you. Once. Twice. A third time-

And then he groans, loud and shaking, as he cums.

It’s hot. Endless. You can feel it pulse through his cock, feel the flood of it painting your insides, thick and heavy and too much. His hips don’t stop moving—slow now, dragging through your overstretched cunt just to make sure none of it goes to waste.

"Yeah- yes, yes- fuck," he rasps, breath stuttering as he presses in deep, so deep you feel it in your lungs. "Finally. Finally... fuck, take it-

Like he's been waiting for this. Like he’s been going rabid over the idea of this for months and now he’s got a warm, bleeding body to fill instead of his own fucking fist.

You feel so full that it would make you nauseous if you weren't on the brink of passing out.

Jack's still holding you there. Still buried deep, arms locked tight, cock twitching as the last of it seeps out of him.

“Mine now,” he murmurs against your ear, voice wrecked. “You feel that?”