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absolute-flaming-trash · 21 hours ago

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Oh I'm fucking SICK

Horrorfest: The Formula for Life [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: The Formula for Life [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito is your creator, and you ought to listen to his rules. But something inside you wants more.

For Horrorfest request: I got two different requests for Mahito + creating a Frankenstein-monster style of reader, so this is for those!

Word count: 5400ish

notes: yandere, very dubious consent, power dynamic abuse, non-graphic descriptions of sex; violence and death (not against reader); Mahito in general is a warning

You are perfectly imperfect.

Mahito is not entirely sure where he heard the phrase before –a women’s magazine, maybe, or some 1960s British film with upbeat, witty dialogue and blonde starlet at the helm–but as he stares down at your prone, sleeping body, he decides that it’s a phrase which suits you well.

You are a perfectly imperfect human, naked as the day he made you. Something in him puffs up at the thought, a hot sensation that makes his chest tingle. Yes, he made you, didn’t he? He is your… creator. Or as close to a creator as you will ever get in this world or the next, because whatever came before no longer matters.

There is no before-you. There is only the you-of-now, resting with your eyes closed and your mouth slack and ah, here, now, finally–

You wake up.

Limbs jerk and your neck twitches and he wonders how much it hurts–the stitches criss-crossing your body like his own, keeping the various parts of you held together. The skin and muscle and sinew, bold black stitches sewn across your hands and arms and legs and chest and every single part of you. There is even, and he finds it a delightful detail, a stitch across one of your ears. It’s cute.

Like you, he thinks. Cute.

Cute as you sit up on his makeshift operating table, testing out your newfound limbs. Cute as your eyes squint, as your pupils adjust to the dim lighting, as your gaze steadies on the only other living thing in the near vicinity–him.

Cute as you try to say your first words.

“Ah…” You say, or try to say, and he wonders just how much of speech your soul remembers, and whether or not that connection will extend to the way your body works. No matter. He’ll just teach you, if necessary.

He grins, and puts his fingers on either side of your lips, squishing them together.

“Hel-lo,” he says, slow, moving your mouth with the words. “Can you say that? Hel-lo?”

You blink at him, awareness and confusion seeping into your expression. The stitches that cross your face, going from the corner of your scalp across the top of your nose and landing around the curve of your neck, scrunch in with the effort.

Your mouth opens, and closes; he can hear the spittle in your mouth working, can see the way your cheeks move, the pink of your tongue testing out its boundaries.

And then–

Then, you lean forward, and he grins, eager to hear you try; but ah, you surprise him. Cute, ugly thing that you are. Your hand extends, wobbling, and your fingers loosely grip his own lips like they’ve never held anything before.

“Hel-lo,” you mimic, slow, warbled, the word coming out almost foreign. “Hel-lo?”

He grins, and can’t help the croon of pure, unadulterated delight that follows.

–

He has a lot to teach you. You, dear pet, are a lot of work. Not that he minds. Not that he views it as a chore. No, teaching you is some grand, extended hobby. More fun than reading, more fun than experimenting, even, because isn’t that what you are? A complex experiment.

A beautifully awfully blank creature that belongs to him: that’s what you are, and that’s the first thing he teaches you. That you are his, wholly, and everything you should know and do will come from him.

You accept it so easily that he laughs until he cries, and then laughs some more, when you reach up to touch his tears and ask him what they are, and why they come from his eyes, and why your own eyes don’t leak like that.

“Don’t worry,” he told you, catching his breath, adoring the way your recycled callused fingers felt on his cheeks. “You’ll get some of your own eventually.”

And you did, of course. At the most stupid time, which was frustrating, but something he could work with.

The first time you cried was the first time he brought a human home to experiment on. Some salaryman he’d fetched on his late night walk home, exhausted, barely able to hold up his briefcase. Mahito had set you on the ground (you never complained about it being hard, and maybe soon he would give you something soft to sit on, sweet thing that you are) and told you to watch, excited to see how you’d react. Would you be confused? Scared? Or simply feel nothing, and watch blankly as the man died?

But ah, how disappointing. You’d cried, of all things. Your hands had flown to your cheeks, feeling the wetness; your skin had gone all splotchy–”My head hurts, I feel warm,” you’d told him–and your lips curled into a nasty frown.

“Why are my eyes leaking?” You asked, and Mahito had to think about it. Because he wasn’t quite sure. He decided to root around in your soul for the answer, and it was so strikingly simple that he imagined slapping himself for it. You felt empathy for the man. You thought he was like you. And if you were being hurt, well, you’d feel downright awful, too.

Silly thing. So that was the next thing he taught you: that the people he brought down into the sewer were simply experiments. Not living beings, not like you, and certainly not like himself. Nothing for you to worry about at all.

And you simple, sweet thing, what do you do after he tells you this? You listen. You’re so good for him that when he pats you on the head and says, ah, silly goose, this is not a person, it doesn’t matter if it gets hurt, if it dies, if it screams until its mouth bleeds…. You believe him.

And now, you simply watch–or don’t, if he says it’s okay to go about your simple day–as he goes about torturing countless living souls. Stretching, twisting, bending, hurting. None of it makes a difference, because Mahito told you it didn’t. The most you react is sometimes covering your ears–”Why does sound hurt, sometimes?”--and curling up on the nest of blankets he’s seen fit to give you.

You’re a bit like clay, he muses. To be molded and shaped in just the right way. And if something doesn’t work out, well, he can simply squish you in and start over.

There’s something freeing, something altogether delightful, in the fact that you learn what he teaches you, you know what he gives you.

He does not teach the concept of freedom–why should he?--or the outside world.

There shouldn’t be an outside world for a creature like you, only the world he creates for you; this damp, dim world where he is the only thing you need to care about.

You do come with some surprises. Some things, it seems, came along with your soul.

“I know what this means!” You blurt out, beaming, looking to him for approval as you grip the well-worn cover of one of his stolen books. You read the title slowly, carefully, but there’s that flicker of recognition in the way your mouth sounds the words, understands the connection between the printed text and its meaning.

You know something he hasn’t taught you.

He frowns–and you frown just as easily, setting the book down like it burned your precious fingers. Your eyes get wide and your mouth gets slack and you stammer out an apology, even if you don’t know why.

It is one of your most endearing qualities, this readiness to understand that what he thinks is bad is bad, and the uneasiness in him flickers away, just a bit. You’re still his clay, his creature, his pet.

He reaches out and runs his fingers into your hair, gripping your scalp hard until you grunt.

“Well,” he says, when you look up at him with those confused doe eyes. “I suppose you could read my notes back to me, when I do my work.”

If you had a tail, it would be wagging.

And oh, he almost drools on you, from the way your expression shifts from that confused worry to unadulterated delight despite the pain that must be radiating through your scalp–

It feels good, sometimes, to make you look this way. It’s a strange notion, one he doesn’t want to think too hard about. It’s only natural that you should feel pleasure when he is pleased with you, but why should he feel the same?

It’s a conundrum. Something to write about in his notes–the private ones you’ll never see, of course. The notes about you, and himself, plans and plots, theories and guesses.

It wouldn’t do, really it wouldn’t, if you saw his scribbles about making sure you didn’t learn something that annoyed him. A something that would make you want to leave, or know other people, or comprehend that you were your own individual being.

Ignorance is bliss, or so he’s read, and he intends to keep you that way.

–

Oh, oh, oh–your breath comes out in wispy pitter-patters that almost match the rapid beating of your heart.

This… This is not allowed. It is not allowed because Mahito, your master, your creator, said so. And what your master tells you, you obey, because that is how the world works. He’s told you so many times, and it makes perfect sense.

He knows what’s best, because he’s smarter, and stronger, and you’re just a simple person. You’re supposed to make him happy, and would it make him happy, to break this rule? No, is what he would say.

And yet–you wonder. He likes it when you learn, when he teaches and you actually get it and can repeat it for him on demand.

Like when you learned to walk without falling down, or when he taught you to stay still while he squeezed and touched and tickled your various body parts to see if they still worked. That was difficult, and it took many tries, but when you finally did it right, he praised you. Even if it made your stomach flutter in strange ways, and you were sometimes sore afterwards.

Would doing this make him praise you? Or would it make him angry?

Your fingers ghost over the covers, some of them all cracked and worn, others looking fresh and shiny. Books. His books. They’re all over the world, in stacks and stacks. On his hammock, on the floor, on the stacked table he said was a “book shelf.”

He said you weren’t allowed to touch any of his books or papers. Only what he gave you, when he gave you, and sometimes he even pointed to a line and said don’t you read past that, little pet, and you didn’t.

But he wants you to learn, doesn’t he? And you can learn from these books. Maybe you’ll learn something that makes you better, helps you avoid those stumbles that sometimes make him frown. Like when you first remembered how to read, or the time you tried to talk to one of his experiments.

Oh, you didn’t mean anything by it! You were just–bored. And while Mahito hadn’t been as sore once you told him why you tried to talk to it, he’d still punished you (rightfully so, you had been bad) and told you never to do it again. Unless he said so.

So–so yes. He said not to read these books. But. If reading these books helps you be better, and being better means you’ll make your master mad less often, then reading these books is the right thing to do.

You just won’t tell him, and he won’t have any reason to be mad about it.

It’s so simple, you can’t believe you hadn’t thought of it before. Well–you can believe that. You aren’t very smart, or so your master says, and he knows everything.

This will help then, won’t it? He knows what’s in these books, but now you will, too.

With a lurching feeling in your stomach, you pick up the first book, a hard one with a shiny glossy cover that says HUMAN BIOLOGY, and flip to the first page.

–

You read about lots of things, and every one of them makes you wonder.

The biology books make you wonder why your body looks like this, but all of the pictures of people (inside and out) look like that. You had never wondered before; you looked like your creator, and that seemed normal enough. But… none of these other people were all mismatched and jumbled. None of these other people had scars everywhere, patched together by black stitches that sometimes itched.

The romance books are nice, even if they make you feel a bit funny. Your master touches you like the people in these books touch each other, but it’s not quite the same. He never says the same words, “I love you,” or asking, “Do you want me?” before he touches. You’re not sure exactly what love is just yet, but you’re sure one of these books will explain it properly.

One thing you learn is that the world is not actually the world. The world, you thought–you were taught–was just… here. With Mahito. In these walls, within the damp stone. But there is a whole entire world out there with things you’ve never seen before.

Things you’ve never seen or done. Things that make you wonder why you live one way, and the people in the books another. People seem to live in houses, but this place does not match the descriptions in the book at all. People get married–you’re not sure what it means, really, except they are together, so maybe you and Mahito are married, after all? He does kiss you, and more besides.

People have children, and these seem to be tiny people that grow up. But you don’t have any children that walk down a staircase–you have seen these in photos, and patch them into your images of houses–in the morning and complain about being tired. You don’t have a yard with a garden to tend to; you wouldn’t mind it, actually, from the pictures of flowers you’ve seen. They could be pretty.

You wonder how they smell. The books tell you most of them smell quite nice.

It is this sort of wondering that gives you the strongest itch to tell your master that you’ve been reading, so that you can ask him to take you outside. Sometimes you even mouth the word to yourself, when you’re alone. “Outside.” It feels wonderful on your tongue, all tingly. But then your stomach hurts and you think he would be mad about the reading, so you don’t ask at all.

Not everything you read makes your stomach curl. You read about lots of things, things that make you smile, make you laugh. Things that make you forget the reason you started reading was to make Mahito proud of you, to learn how to be better. Things that have nothing to do with being better at all.

Even you realize that learning about the world outside isn’t going to help you in here. But the world outside sounds so… so… big. Big and full of things to see and do and experience. Full of people, trees, buildings and even animals.

Oh, you really do love the idea of animals. One of your favorite books is a well-worn guide book to birds. Birds. What a wonderful thing they must be, all pretty colors, flying around in the sky; in the outside.

What would it be like to fly? To have feathers with so many different colors? To make what the book calls “chirps” and “calls”? You’ve tried to imagine what they must sound like, but it’s hard, with no frame of reference.

And you can’t exactly ask your master to mimic them, either.

Sometimes, in your dreams, you turn into a bird. Feathers sprouting from your stitches and taking you up in the air. Birds, the books say, use their chest and supracoracoideus muscles to fly, flapping their wings in just the right way. You don’t think you have supracoracoideus muscles, except in your dreams, and you’re too afraid to ask.

You’re glad Mahito hasn’t asked you about your dreams in a while.

–

You are being so good today. So good, in fact, that Mahito has told you to sit quietly on your nest while he works on his latest experiment. You didn’t even have to read him his notes–you didn’t mind, and told him so, but he’d simply patted your head and said it wasn’t necessary today.

So instead, you watched quietly, legs pulled up to your chest. It was harder to watch, ever since you started reading, because sometimes–

Sometimes you wondered if it was true, that the experiments were not people after all. They certainly look like the people in your master’s books. They talk like the people, sometimes, when they’re not screaming.

But if your master says they aren’t people, well, he must be right. It does get a little frustrating when they beg you for help, because most of them can’t even see your master at all. That makes you feel a little sorry for them, sometimes, if they haven’t been screaming too loudly. If they could see your master, they might know he’s not doing anything wrong when he hurts them.

He’s just learning.

Today, the experiment seems to be going well. Your master is smiling, humming, writing down his notes. You hope you’ll get to read these ones, eventually, but he doesn’t always let you.

(He’s even got a private book, you’ve seen him scribbling in it sometimes. It is, however, the one thing you dare never to read. Not even to learn.)

And then the experiment does the silliest thing! When your master touches him, elongating his arms into a strange shape, he tries to run. Silly experiments, they never get far; but this one tries. He screams–ouch–and begins to run, flapping his arms like they’re on fire. No, flapping them like he’s a–

“Oh,” you say, leaning forward, a delighted smile on your face. “Like a bird!”

The man does not last long. Whatever your master did takes full effect, and he’s misshappen, no legs, a wiggling blob. Not like a bird at all, anymore, but it was nice while it lasted.

Nothing happens, for a moment. And in that moment you realize that something is wrong. It’s suddenly quiet, suddenly heavy.

Mahito, your master, your creator, slowly turns his head towards you with an expression you’ve never seen before. His pupils are too small, his mouth open in something like surprise. “A bird?”

“Yes,” you say, slowly, not knowing yet, not catching on. “It’s–his arms, you see? The way they moved.” You sit up on your knees and mimic the way you’ve seen birds flying in still photographs, the way you sometimes try to fly in your dreams. “When birds fly, they use…” But you stop, because Mahito is frowning. And when Mahito is frowning, you are doing something wrong.

But what, and when, and…

“How would you know what a bird is, pet?”

Oh, no.

The realization makes your guts clench so hard that you almost think you wet yourself, and you throw your hands over your stomach at the strange new sensation. An awful stomach-churning feeling.

You don’t quite know what it is, but a memory from a book you read comes wafting back; a book about a woman who lives alone and a man tries to break into her house and kill her. She’s scared. Is that what this is? Are you scared?

There’s no time to really wonder about this, because Mahito stalks over and grabs you by the hair, yanking you up until you’re on your feet, reflexive tears in your eyes.

You don’t struggle, because he has explained to you that when you’re bad, he’s meant to treat you like this. And sometimes when you’re good, too. You’ve never figured out if there is a difference.

“You’ve been reading my books.” Not a question, and you don’t answer. “What else have you been reading about?”

“Nothing,” you say, your voice hoarse. You scrunch your eyebrows together: that wasn’t what you should have said. You have read about lots of things. He asked, and you should have told him. That’s the rule he gave you. Simple and easy.

“I’ve read about lots of things,” you correct, confusion spilling from your mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say nothing. I don’t know why I did.”

His eyes widen, and you don’t know what he’s thinking, but there’s that small-pupiled look of surprise again. “You lied,” he says.

Something in you wants to struggle against the tight grip on your hair. It hurts. You don’t like it, when it hurts, that something says. Even though your master says it’s okay for things to hurt. Which is right, your master, or that something-inside-you that has only gotten louder in the last few weeks.

“I didn’t,” you say, some instinct pulled from deep inside you to deny, deny, deny. Then you pause. “What is a lie?”

His expression never loses its own sense of almost horrified wonder, even as his other hand comes to caress your face, catching against your stitches.

“When something isn’t true. And it’s not true, is it, that you haven’t read about anything else?”

“Yes–no.” Your little head is confused, and the sting in your scalp doesn’t help. “I did read other things. Lots of things.” You swallow hard. “I just wanted to know… to know…”

But how do you explain it, this desire to know? The desire to know that went beyond pleasing him, making yourself better for him?

“Know what?” He murmurs, almost not a question, releasing your hair. You take the opportunity to put your hands in your lap, holding them tightly together, as all of the knowing you’ve been doing in the past few weeks catches up with you.

The questions come like bubbles in the water, one after another, having been crammed inside your head for far too long without a proper outlet.

“Why don’t I ever talk to other people? Why do I look like this, when they don’t? Why don’t we go outside? I want to see, I want to know–” Your fingers hurt from how hard you wring your hands together. “About the sky and the animals and the birds and what music is and how a train sounds and how many wheels do they have, and there’s more, there’s more, I just can’t say it all–”

You can see his expression shifting, but you’re so steeped in your own release of the knowing that you don’t heed it as a warning. Instead, you ask something that has been bothering you a bit. A lot, if you were honest, and you were supposed to be honest, weren’t you?

“What are we?”

His gaze narrows as he looks down at you, and you don’t want him to look at you like that. Not with the question you want to ask.

“What are we?” He repeats, a hint of something in it that makes you feel ashamed. A joke–no, that’s not the proper word. Mockery, you think. Mimicry. Birds can do that, but, you’re not wanting to stay on the topic of birds just now.

“Are we…” Your brain fumbles for the word, flipping through the figurative pages you’ve read and read and read. “Married?” Yes, that was it. Many of the people in the story books you read had marriages. And other things, too, that you don’t have, and he hasn’t talked about giving you.

“Do you love me?” You say, voice rising in pitch. “What is love, exactly? And why don’t we live in a house, in a neighborhood, with a street and a fence? Why don’t we have children? Why don’t I have a job or a dog or parents or ride an airplane–”

He shoves a palm over your mouth and you do finally heed the warning: Stop. Talking.

Your breath comes out your nose against the top of his palm, and your stomach hurts, and all of this feels so awful that it’s a relief when he speaks, even if he’s not happy with you.

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns and his mouth twitches before he smiles, but it’s not a smile that makes you feel better. It almost looks–like a lie, you think, the connections falling into place. He’s smiling, but he’s not happy, and that makes it a lie.

“Why do humans always want more,” he asks lowly, and you almost try to answer before he presses harder against your mouth, making your teeth ache.

“Even broken ones, remade ones,” he continues, “always seek out more.”

If his hand wasn’t on your mouth, you would ask what he meant. You try to think about an answer, and maybe when he pulls his hand away, he’ll be happy that you came up with one. But it’s hard to get your mind around the question.

It’s too slippery, too vague. Are you the broken one? If so, he should fix you. And what was wrong with seeking out more? Isn’t that why he taught you things? Maybe you learned the wrong things from the books; but he should have read them to you, and corrected you, if he was worried about that.

It’s all too much, too confusing, and before you can stop them, tears are leaking from your eyes. Hot ones that make your eyes scrunch and you cry openly against his hand, wanting the confusion to stop, wanting the ache in your chest to go away.

Instinctively, your hands reach for his arm, holding him like you sometimes hold your blankets.

His eyebrows raise again, and there’s a flash of surprise before he smiles. This time, it doesn’t look like a lie.

“You poor thing,” he says, crouching down and bringing you to your knees with him. His hand leaves your palm and your little sobs come out openly, almost barking into the air. “You’re so confused, aren’t you?”

You nod, and it’s true, and you resolve to never lie again. Lying hurts.

“I-I don’t know what I did wrong or why I did it wrong and you’re mad,” you tell him, open, honest, like you should be. The words come out fast and stumbled. “I thought I could read books to be better but now I know about birds and I don’t know what they sound like or why I don’t have things and why I’m so… so…”

The word doesn’t come and that only makes you cry harder.

He coos, and pulls you against his chest. It’s familiar, this soothing, and it makes you feel warm even as those confusing thoughts stay stuck to your brain.

“Want to know a secret about the two of us, pet?” He asks, speaking against your hair. “A secret about you?” Every syllable is soaked in the promise of knowledge.

“No,” you breathe out, and it’s that buried-deep-down instinct again, pushing the word through your lips for you. You’re glad, though, because you realize this wasn’t a lie at all. You don’t want to know a secret. If the books you’ve read are to be believed (and are they?) then secrets always lead to trouble.

You don’t want any more trouble. Not now.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Really? I thought you wanted to know everything.” A touch of amusement in his face, and you cling to it like a lifeline. You remember this side of your master; the side that smiles and pats your head. It’s much better than the side that smiles when he’s not happy at all.

Your arms latch around him, snuggling as close as you can get, your face pressed against his chest. “Can we go to bed?” Your words are muffled against him, but you’re sure he understands. “I’m so confused.” And tired, and worried, and scared. All these awful feelings swirling around in your guts, making you want to be sick.

Mahito pulls away from you, and there’s a brief snatch of fear before he begins to wipe at your tears with his fingers. He wipes too harshly, and his nails catch on the lid of your eye, making it sting. You don’t pull away. You remind yourself, if he thinks this is how he ought to stop your crying, it’s the best option.

Is it really? says that deep-deep-deep-down voice, and you tell it to be quiet, you’re tired, you aren’t thinking right, and it should stay buried with whatever secret your master knows.

“Poor pet,” he whispers, cooing. “It’s all too much, isn’t it?” You nod, chin wobbling. His hands go from your cheeks to your head again, petting you on both sides, snarling in your hair. “I could make it go away, if you want.” Sticky words that you want to reach for.

His hands smooth all around your head now, and it’s almost like he’s trying to feel something inside. Like your brain, like your thoughts, like everything that makes you tick.

Your eyes get wide and all you know is that when your master says something, it’s true.

Is it really? repeats that voice.

“You could?” is what you say, because it’s simpler that way. Simpler to remember the way things were before the world had birds, when what he said was exactly so.

“If you’ll be agreeable to it,” he tells you.

His hands trail from your head down your shoulders, your neck, your chest, down and down and down, tracing each stitch on your body. And something in you–that deep-deep-deep-down part of you–says this is wrong. He shouldn’t touch you, you should be screaming, clawing at him, getting out of here.

But you push that something down, with the birds and the children and the stories of courtship, with the way your hands trembled as they flipped each page, with the way you felt proud of yourself for finishing each book.

Those things were nice, until they were not so nice; until they upset the very creator of your being, and made you too confused and hurt to think about them. What good was knowing about the more when the more made him upset?

It feels better, not to think too much. Not to know so much. And if he can fix you–if he’s willing to fix you ,then it’s what you want, too. You think. Maybe. Yes?

“Of course I will,” you stay, trying on a smile.

You can’t tell, even as his hands go from touches to gropes, if it’s a lie or not.

–

You’re finally sleeping now, and he doesn’t mind sighing, sprawling out on the floor and watching with his chin propped into his elbow.

What an awful human trait, this desire for more-out-there-in-the-world. What good is creating your own little creature if it always wants to find out its place in some grander scheme of things? The only world you should know is here, and him, and yet you had to get your grubby little hands on his books and read about ridiculous notions.

You probably didn’t even understand some of them, maybe most of them. That is fascinating, in its own right. He wonders what you would do, if you saw a pretty little robin hopping on the ground, about to get pounced on by some neighborhood cat.

Would your expression of delight turn to horror as the bird was mangled in the cat's jaws? Or would you not process it as horror at all, but simply an experience to learn about? Could he touch you to overlook it, as he has his experiments?

It’s tempting, sometimes, to see what you would do with more outside stimuli. But that temptation doesn’t go too far, because the whole point of your being was to shape you for himself. And that does not include this damned human desire to explore the inside and outside, forever expanding your knowledge of whos and whats and whens.

Well. At least you didn’t put up a fight at the notion of being fixed. At least you seemed properly subdued, once he made it clear he wasn’t pleased. He’d brought you up well enough, after all.

He’s not sure he can really pull it out of you. There are many ways to reshape the soul, and the soul he pulled into that cobbled-together body has certainly been–well, changed, by the experience.

Could he change it further? Wipe out your memory of those books? Maybe he could reach further down, deep down into your soul, and yank out the offending desires like weeds from a garden.

Maybe so.

For his own pleasure, he’s willing to try again and again, until you are just right.

He owes it to himself, after all, to never give up on his most thrilling experiment.

#Everyone stop what you're doing right now and read this please #Theo I'm-#we talked about it but oh #nothing in this world could have prepared me #'naked as the day he made you' had me acting unwise #'You are his. wholly. and everything you should know and do will come from him'.#You just. Have such an incredible ability to create sentences that stick to my mind like tar and live there rent free with utilities includ #God the way you built this up #I do not have the words #You just know something is going to go so horribly wrong #and oh my god #The books #Everything they represent #The way he FROWNS when they know something he hasn't taught them.#Such an innocent little 'quirk' at first but then oh...#'Like a bird!'#and the immediate death of the human that followed that as a result #I felt genuine panic because oh fuck on no oh dear god #(also the hair grab. bye)#'Are we married? Do you love me?' my fucking heart #the confusion from Reader is so palpable and his reaction to it #Kicking my legs. Biting this whole fic like a dog toy and shaking it.#I want to put this entire story into my dryer and tumble around with it #I had to put my phone down so many times #The way you write Mahito I will never get over it #Never #Everything is awful and delightful and just utterly wrong #I can pass away now it's fine #Mahito will rebuild me #Mahito

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ckret2 · 3 days ago

Text

Pictured above: a shape's eye view of the end of the world.

The second dimension has burned; and Bill's been accidentally setting the second dimension's neighbors on fire. At the moment, the Axolotl is trying really, really hard to convince himself that these two facts are unrelated. Here, have a fic.

This is chapter 5 of an ongoing fic about the Axolotl in the wake of the Euclidean Massacre as Bill just keeps on committing atrocities. If you wanna read the earlier chapters (and/or look at more pretty art of Bill committing horrors and the Ax witnessing horrors), here's chapters one, two, three, and four.

####

As soon as the Axolotl and the Time Giant exited Dimension Zero, they were greeted with a faceful of rain. Apparently the storm cloud with the Apocalyptic Threat Task Force had been waiting for them. "The fires in the remaining dimensions around 2Δ are finally acting like normal fires," it said. "No teleporting around, no more targeting the mortals. We've got the worst ones under control. Think we'll save about 40% of Dimension 2 Zeta and 30% of Dimension 2 Epsilon. Whatever you two did in there, it helped."

"Yeah, well." The Time Giant shrugged, nearly dislodging the Axolotl from his perch draped over her shoulder. "It was one of those problems that fixes itself once you figure out what it is."

So the Time Giant had been right. The triangle's attempts to rescue "his" "people" and to stabilize his strange underworld in Dimension Zero had been what was destabilizing all the other dimensions. As much of a relief as it was to hear the situation was improving... part of the Axolotl had hoped that the fires were still as untamed as ever—because that would have meant the triangle wasn't guilty of perpetuating the blaze.

(If the triangle wasn't actively working to keep Dimension Zero stable, how much longer until it collapsed and erased all its imprisoned souls from existence? Would it be long enough to get them all out?)

The cloud asked, "So, did you find out what destroyed 2Δ?" Right. The Axolotl had almost forgotten that was what they'd originally been looking for.

The Time Giant shook her head grimly. "Didn't see any sign of it. But I've got a suspicion who did it."

The Axolotl said sharply, "All we have is circumstantial evidence." And he'd ripped into more than one god who'd tried to damn a mortal based on circumstantial evidence.

The cloud's sunbeam darted between their faces. Slowly, it said, "I take it you mean our triangular friend. I don't have any proof yet about the original fire; but he's been spreading the fire, I know that much."

"How did you know?" the Axolotl asked. He and the Time Giant had only just learned it themselves inside Dimension Zero.

"We've been interviewing some refugees while you were out. I—think you'll want to speak to them." The cloud directed this statement to the Axolotl.

The Time Giant said, "Later. The triangle says he's willing to move his people to another dimension." She gestured toward VENDOR, flanked by the two cops THEY'd apparently adopted as THEIR personal escorts. THEY were ranting into a phone that the crab-looking cop was holding up for them. "So we've gotta go discuss refugee stuff with Vendy McVendface."

"VENDOR," the cloud corrected.

"Vend 'er? I hardly even know 'er!"

The gods turned to stare at the border of Dimension Zero as the triangle laughed at his own joke until he wheezed. "I had to. It was sitting right there! It woulda been a crime not to pick it up!" His cackles slowly petered out. "What, no laughs? Maybe the joke doesn't translate."

The Time Giant shrugged. "I kinda thought it was funny."

"Ah, whatever."

"Have you been listening the whole time?" the Axolotl asked, not sure whether to be amused or mortified.

"Don't worry about it, I've got something more important to say." He zipped up along the surface of Dimension Zero's border until he was eye level with the Time Giant. "Hey, Hourglass. I didn't say I'm ready to move my people. I said I'm ready to talk about moving. Your guy better sell me on it. If your offer isn't worth it, we're not leaving."

"Are you serious?" She screwed up her face. "Ain't not being erased from existence worth it?"

"I have very high standards. And there are fates worse than death."

"Name one."

The triangle only thought about it a second before he answered, "Captivity."

####

It wasn't until the Axolotl and the Time Giant left the border of Dimension Zero that the Axolotl realized, the moment the triangle had shown up, the storm cloud had disappeared. It was now drizzling surreptitiously near VENDOR, waiting for them to catch up.

As they approached VENDOR, the Time Giant said, "You should give VENDOR the news."

The Axolotl gave her an affronted look. "Why me?" This wasn't his responsibility. He hadn't been hired to do a job here. He shouldn't even be here; he was essentially an over-involved lookie-loo.

"You'd be better at talking to 'em. You move in the same circles."

"I'm not a politician, I'm a lawyer."

"I'm an engineer." She took the Axolotl off her shoulder and nudged his butt to set him gently floating in VENDOR's direction.

The Axolotl twisted around to give her a resentful look, but swam toward the vending machine.

THEY ignored the Axolotl until THEY finished THEIR current call, at which point THEY snapped, "What?" and he explained the situation. Blessedly, THEY didn't ask any further questions or give him any instructions; THEY just grumbled, "Finally," and told the crab cop, "Call the Vitruvian Mandala—we'll need to find places for another ten million 2D refugees."

"And 1D," the Axolotl said.

"Yes, yes." THEY muttered under THEIR fan, "And hopefully we'll get that triangle to the afterlife he deserves and be done with him."

The Axolotl doubted THEY meant a serene eternal paradise. Pointedly, he said, "Which afterlife he goes to is his choice."

Afterlife law was his speciality. Not cases like "based on this mortal's good and bad deeds, which form has she earned for her next reincarnation?" or "has this soul earned entry into his religion's realm of the wicked, the good, or the heroic?" Those were decided on the local level.

Rather, he tended to handle inter-pantheon, sometimes even interdimensional, cases—like, "if a mortal born on one planet lives and dies on another planet, which world's afterlife has claim to his soul?" "Is a soul's right to return to her native afterlife forfeit if she's apprehended in another god's jurisdiction for crimes against reality?" "Can a death god in a dimension where wandering ghosts are banned incarcerate a ghost from a dimension where wandering is legal?" "How does a soul's right to claim an afterlife weigh against an afterlife's right to claim a soul?" "Who has the right to judge a deceased mortal in the first place?"

The Axolotl personally thought that mortals deserved to be treated as mercifully as possible—starting with respecting the dead's own choice of afterlife above all others, and ending with outlawing damnation at the interdimensional level.

The rest of the multiverse... didn't agree with him yet. He didn't intend to stop until they did.

He went on, "Case law has long established that unless the dead made other arrangements premortem, they will be taken to—in order—the afterlife of their birth, their death, or their choice. The afterlife under whose jurisdiction the triangle lived and died has been destroyed, so he can go to any afterlife that says they're willing to take him, whether or not you think it's what he deserves—"

VENDOR's camera rolled and THEY impatiently beeped acknowledgment. "Do you mind, I'm on the phone." THEY turned THEIR back on the Axolotl to focus on THEIR next call. Yeah, most gods didn't like being told they couldn't just smite and damn whoever they felt like.

The storm cloud called the Axolotl's attention with a fork of lightning. It said, "I'll need to help coordinate the rescue efforts with VENDOR. I can get the report on what you learned in there from the engineering inspector; but you need to go talk to some of the witnesses of the fire. Maybe you should ask the Vitruvian Mandala when He's free."

That was the second time it had told him to talk to the refugees. "Why?"

"You said that yellow triangle's your friend, right?"

"I... did, yes."

The cloud didn't explain any further. It only said, "Be careful around him."

####

VENDOR bustled around making preparations to receive ten million new refugees with absolutely no input from anyone else on the scene; the cloud's time was split between coordinating with the ATTF and getting a full debrief from the Time Giant on the conditions inside Dimension Zero; and left alone, the Axolotl found himself staring into the roiling barrier around the bloated singularity.

He swore, no matter where he looked, in the center of his view he could see a tiny, yellow, triangular pinprick of light, like an afterimage burned into his retina. No matter how deeply he looked into Dimension Zero, somehow his eyes always seemed focused on the triangle, making it appear nearer and then farther, like an optical illusion.

Be careful around him. He wished his Oracle were here to ask him questions. Helping her mortal mind make sense of this whole affair might help him make sense of it himself.

He'd seen the horror in the triangle's eye when he realized that he was the one incinerating the dimensions that had once bordered his own. He'd heard the sincerity in the triangle's voice when he said he could feel the deaths of every life that fell into his dream realm—the deaths that he himself was causing. He'd felt the guilt pouring from the triangle when he realized his efforts to save "his people" from being killed were what was killing them. Whatever else the Axolotl knew, he was sure the triangle hadn't meant to cause anyone harm. He hadn't started the fires on purpose. He just... didn't know what he was doing.

And "his people"—what did that mean?

Maybe some of the people in the triangle's dance party were from his dimension. The Axolotl couldn't totally confirm that they weren't; if the triangle had somehow survived, then why not others?

But it was undeniable that the triangle had been "rescuing"/kidnapping people from other dimensions, and he talked about the people he'd rescued no differently from the people from his own dimension.

Why? Had members of his species spread to neighboring dimensions? Or had his species come from another? Had his people established diplomatic relationships with cultures in neighboring universes, enough for them to consider themselves one people?

"Certainly not," said the Vitruvian Mandala.

He was a god from one of the worlds in Dimension 2 Gamma that the ATTF had managed to evacuate before the dimension was fully incinerated. Now, He was just another refugee, huddled with His confused, terrified people on one of the temporary worlds provided by VENDOR, curved uncomfortably atop the spherical planet. He had to be reeling from the loss of His home just as much as His people were—if not more, since He had known and seen and done and loved much more that any single mortal could. But nevertheless, He'd immediately stepped up to assist with organizing the rescue services, acting as a liaison between VENDOR and the 2D mortals to find new homes for them.

And some of His people had been among the ones dragged into Dimension Zero—which was no doubt why the cloud had suggested the Axolotl speak to Him.

The Vitruvian Mandala may have been a minor creation god (He'd only created a galaxy) but He was more than powerful enough to know whether any of His people had ever made interdimensional contact. The Axolotl had waited until He had a moment to spare from assisting VENDOR, and then asked Him about their relationship with Dimension 2 Delta.

"I seeded life on all the populated worlds in My galaxy. None of My worlds have ever so much as been colonized by another galaxy in Our own dimension, much less people from another dimension," He said. "And We're a young galaxy—the most advanced starfarers have hardly ventured beyond their own solar systems; none have left Our dimension."

"And they've never spoken to other dimensions...?"

"No. The first contact We ever had with 'Dimension 2 Delta'—or what was left of it—was when the Magister Mentium began dragging My people into his underworld. The leaders I've had a chance to speak to from Dimension 2 Epsilon and Dimension 2 Zeta have told Me the same. " He called the triangle 'Magister Mentium' without any of the halting awkwardness the Axolotl did, or even the self-consciousness the triangle himself did. The Vitruvian Mandala had never known the triangle as anything but the Magister Mentium—and in His voice, it sounded not like an oversized title for a tiny triangle, but like the name of a fellow god.

But—the Axolotl had only asked the Vitruvian Mandala about Dimension 2 Delta. He hadn't brought up the Magister Mentium, nor mentioned that he was asking about the kidnapped people. "How did you know about the Magister Mentium?"

The Vitruvian Mandala said simply, "Because he introduced himself to My people before he started stealing them."

At the Axolotl's shocked silence, He said, "Do you want to see what they saw?"

####

When the agents with the ATTF had started interviewing survivors about the cosmic fire, naturally, they'd first approached the other gods for information. And then the gods had approached the mortals under their charge to get their testimonies and pass them on to the apoc agents.

The Vitruvian Mandala had telepathically extracted His people's memories and copied them into tiny glassy discs with brass rims. He sifted through dozens of discs before offering the memory of a narrow rhombus from one of His most technologically advance worlds; and the Axolotl stared through the disk to experience the mortal's memory.

The memory started with a sight that had become all too familiar to the Axolotl: a distant line of burning blue fire. It took a moment for the Axolotl to orient himself to the mortal's razor-thin two-dimensional view of her world; but once he did, he realized that, from her perspective, it wasn't a line of light. To her, it was the entire sky. The constellations of faraway flat stars had vanished, and their place was taken by an inferno.

The whole world reeked of a stench that the rhombus didn't recognize, but that the Axolotl did: burning hydrogen. In most dimensions, three-fourths of all the matter in the entire universe—including the very stars themselves—consisted of hydrogen molecules. Hydrogen burned a pale blue. The stench in the air, the pale blue light filling the sky, was the smell and sight of the raw materials of reality itself burning away.

The nearby buildings had emptied into the city streets as people abandoned their work to coming outside and stare at the burning sky. Somewhere—it seemed very far away—people were screaming, sirens were wailing, government proclamations were issuing out of radios and loudspeakers; but on these streets, on the border of the city where the sky was most visible, everyone was horribly silent.

An eerie feeling of unreality hung over the world. It felt like a scene out of a dream. The rhombus's heart filled with dread. She didn't understand why or how the sky was burning, but she felt in her bones that it must mean the end of the world.

She never imagined that it was the end of the entire universe.

And then, more real than reality itself, bright enough to blind, a radioactive-yellow shape appeared in the middle of the crowd. Over the gasps of shock, a voice that echoed between the buildings proclaimed, "Gooood evening! Lines, bis, and tris; quads, quints, and more—my beloved believers and my new friends—I'm sure you all recognize my voice from the news, but it's a pleasure to finally meet you all in the flesh!"

She wasn't sure he had any flesh to meet. He was ghostlike, as insubstantial as smoke—and just as formless as smoke, too: his shape constantly shimmered and shifted and distorted, his skin appearing and disappearing as his internal organs were exposed; one moment a leg visible, the next a hand, then no limbs at all, just his blindingly bright body. His organs were all wrong. When she could stand to squint at the specter's light, in the split seconds that his ghostly form was properly visible, she thought he looked like a triangle.

(She'd never seen the third dimension, never even attempted to imagine what a 3D shape might look like. She didn't realize his appearance shifted because he was a 2D shape tilting in 3D directions trying to lay flat on the 2D plane of Dimension 2 Gamma, and not quite succeeding. )

"Allow me to introduce myself properly: I'm the Magister Mentium, seer of the third dimension! Your gateway to the stars and stardom, your guide to prophets and profits, your mastermind and master of minds; and, if you're lucky, your new eternal party host! I'm sure the honor's all yours—but please, resist the urge to swoon! I have a limited time offer that you cannot afford to miss."

For all his self-aggrandizing, the triangle was still completely unfamiliar. She didn't see recognition in the eyes of any of the shapes around them, either. She doubted he'd ever actually been on the news at all, unless it was in one of those dubious programs about ghost hunting or UFOs.

But the triangle charged on regardless: "I'm here to bring you salvation from— Whoops! We've got a crying baby over here. Sorry junior, I'm on stage right now." She hadn't even noticed the crying until the triangle pointed it out; the whole world seemed dull and muffled and gray except for the triangle. One of his arms stretched in the child's direction and disappeared; there was a split-second flash of black fingers where the baby used to be; and then both hand and baby vanished, the baby's cries morphing into a shriek of terror that slowly faded into the unseeable distance.

"My baby!" a rectangle wailed. She rushed up to the alien triangle. "What did you do to my baby, you—" She tried to seize his arm, and let out a howl of pain as her hands burst into flame.

"Calm down, Mama, your little brat's okay!" He reached out and flicked the rectangle back. His finger hit her with the force of a catapult. She tumbled away from him through dimensions unknown, skins and bone and organs turning inside-out over each other; and slammed into a nearby building, fusing with the wall. All that was visible of her was a thin cross section of meat. The rhombus couldn't imagine where the rest of her had gone—but she could smell the burning flesh.

"Too bad I can't say the same of you." The triangle turned to stare them all down, gaze darting restlessly from face to face. His pupil was bizarrely long, animal-like; and his gaze burned. She was sure that, if his gaze had lingered on her a moment longer, she would have caught fire, too. "We're burning time, people! Would anyone else like to be excused? Last call!"

There were a few whispers, but no one moved. The crowd was petrified with fear.

"Terrrrific! Then you'd better listen close, because I only have time to say this once," the triangle said. "Here's the deal! There's only two kinds of people: the ones who hate captivity, and the ones who love it. Oh yeah, there are people who love it! Some of 'em like inflicting it, some of 'em are too stupid to think for themselves, and some of 'em just want to do terrible things and pretend they had no choice!

"But I'm here to help the rest of you—you know who you are! You're the ones who never quite tessellated with the other kids! The ones who are sick and tired of your family saying you had so much potential and asking where it's all gone! You can feel the barbs of social obligation hooking into your flesh—yeah, you there, you know what I'm talking about, I see you!—and you'd rip your own skin off if you thought it would set you free! It won't, by the way—take it from a guy who knows! Luckily for you, my way's more effective and less painful! Probably!"

In spite of their fear, more than a few shapes had started pushing closer to the triangle. He was speaking to them.

"So if you crave freedom—from work, laws, morality, physics... death..."

More than a few shapes glanced fearfully toward the sky.

"...if you want to see the stars with me—then raise your hand! Reach out to me! Watch your enemies burn and escape to a realm of dreams with no rules and no responsibilities! That's right, this way!"

As soon as he said raise your hand, it seemed like half the crowd stretched their hands out to him —and the longer he spoke, the more reached out.

She recognized some of the people reaching out—some of them were her neighbors and friends. Here was a beaten-down pentagon who'd spent his whole life being controlled, and just wanted freedom from the ruthless monsters who used and abused him. There was a controlling circle who'd spent her whole life using and abusing others, and wanted freedom to be an even more ruthless monster. They all reached toward the triangle just the same—as if they'd been waiting their whole lives for an opportunity to escape. The desperate, the downtrodden, the dastardly, the barely daring to hope. If the whole burning world felt like a bizarre dream, then this must have felt like a dream come true to them.

But to the rhombus, it felt like a nightmare. She had to fight through the crowd to back away from him.

"No need to push! If you can't see me, just hold your hand toward my voice, I can see you!"

The smell of burning existence was growing stronger.

Was this a test? An approaching apocalypse and a shapeshifting god of light and fire offering a last-minute rapture. The sky was burning—what hope did they have if they didn't go with him? More of the crowd was reaching for him now—terrified of him, but more terrified of their fate if they didn't. The rhombus reluctantly stretched out a hand.

"Thaaat's right, this way! I've got all of you!" His voice was taking on an edge of impatience. "Just—come on already! Hurry up!"

She was at just the right angle to catch a split second glimpse of the triangle through the crowd. She saw as the person closest to him reached out and grasped his hand. She saw as the first of the triangle's new followers burst into flames. The unlucky soul crumbled to ash before they had a chance to scream.

"I said no pushing."

The rhombus jerked her hand back and hoped the triangle hadn't seen her through the crowd. He wasn't offering salvation.

Most of the crowd wasn't lucky enough to get a view of the unfortunate shapes at the front who were already learning what a deal with the triangle entailed. The rhombus could hear people, as though from a vast distance, calling out to the triangle: "Take me, take me!" "I'll do anything!" It seemed like the whole world was trying to get closer to him; she thought she was the only one trying to move away, until she made it as far back as she could, where the crowd was thinning out, and caught a few other shapes in her peripheral vision who'd moved the same way. More than half the crowd was rushing in toward the triangle.

But apparently, it wasn't enough to satisfy him. "Come on, people!" That enthusiastic voice, halfway between a salesman and a camp counselor, was gone now. His voice went shrill with anxiety. "What's it gonna take?! I'm offering you idiots paradise, why won't you listen? Why don't you ever LISTEN TO ME?!"

For a moment, even though the triangle was completely hidden by the crowd, the rhombus could feel his fiery gaze sweep over her. She felt the way her skin threatened to burst into flames, and she knew he saw her.

She backed away until her rear angle bumped into the nearest building.

"Fine! You've had your chance! I've found my people!" The triangle's voice dropped to an angry snarl. "For all I care, the rest of you can burn."

For every hand that stretched out to the triangle, a black hand reached back toward them—dozens and dozens of hands. "Let's blow up this popsicle stand!"

He seized his new believers' hands.

Most of them instantly burst into flames.

Most of the rest were either jerked away into some unseeable direction like the baby had been, or else the burning ghost hand they were shaking yanked something out of them, leaving behind a dry corpse.

Reality warped and distorted in ways her eye couldn't make sense of: buildings wobbling and spilling apart like they were made of liquid; people twisting together with the buildings in sickening multi-corpsed abominations.

"Whoopsie!" The triangle let out a shrill, tittering laugh. It sounded pained. "S-still gotta get the hang of that. Oh well!" He spoke louder and faster. "I saved as many of you as I could, doing the best I can here, the rest of you don't matter, anyway byyye!"

And then he was gone.

And then they were all awake. She hadn't known they were asleep. Whatever happened hadn't been a mere shared nightmare; it was as though the layer of existence that dreams happened on had been pressed into the layer of existence where reality happened, and she hadn't even noticed until the pressure applied by the triangle lifted and the layers popped apart again.

The layers had popped apart too hard. Several of the shapes nearest the triangle that he hadn't taken with him instantly died—the tether between their souls on the plane of dreams and their bodies on the plane of reality snapped like overstretched rubber bands.

The fused corpse abominations had been left behind, still tangled and mangled with the architecture. The buildings were charred. The survivors were covered in burns they hadn't noticed—everywhere the triangle had looked was burned. Anything the triangle looked through was burned.

She was covered in burns. She could feel the burning inside her body. She raised her hands to her face and felt it peeling off.

She couldn't even feel the bright blue fires roaring down from the heavens.

And then something else lifted her out of the world, just before the reality around them began to burn.

She didn't know where all the people the triangle had taken had gone. But as she blacked out, of one thing she was sure: this higher dimension he'd claimed to see, this realm of stars and dreams? They weren't there.

Wherever they were, they'd gone down.

####

When the Axolotl emerged from the recorded memory, he was dizzy with horror. He had to lay down on the prefab planet next to the Vitruvian Mandala while he reeled.

"Are you all right?" the Vitruvian Mandala asked.

Broken, the Axolotl said, "he threw a baby."

"I know."

"Is the baby alright?"

Delicately, He said, "It's beyond the dimensions I'm able to sense."

The Axolotl curled his gills. Not the baby. "What about the rhombus?"

"Her body was too burned; she died shortly after this memory," the Vitruvian Mandala said. "But fortunately, only a small part of her ghost suffered third degree burns. With an ectoplasm graft she's expected to recovery enough to have a fairly normal afterlife. Inasmuch as any afterlife can be considered 'normal' for My people now."

The Axolotl had noted how many ghosts were mingling with the living mortals when he arrived on this planet. He hadn't wanted to say anything; he didn't know whether that was normal for their people. "I can give you the contact rituals of some interdimensional psychopomps I respect. Very professional and compassionate gods." Although they'd be cursing the Axolotl's name for millennia for throwing so much work on their desks.

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you."

The Axolotl returned the memory disc to the Vitruvian Mandala; He momentarily stared into it Himself before returning it to His collection. "He gave speeches like this all across My populated worlds. I've retrieved thousands of memories like this from My people." His voice shook; the Axolotl couldn't tell if it was with anger or grief. "There would have been more—if more had survived."

"I'm so sorry." He didn't know what else he could do for the poor god but be sorry. All the senseless, slapdash slaughter. All of it so casual and accidental.

"Why?" the Vitruvian Mandala demanded. "He didn't speak like he meant My people harm, but he couldn't have done them more harm if he'd tried! I've never heard of him before—what is he, some malevolent trickster god? Why did he do it"

"Because... he thought he was saving them." That was the only thing the Axolotl could cling to.

####

(Thanks for reading!! If the art lured you in and this is the first chapter you read, this is part 5 of a 7-or-8-or-9 part fic that keeps getting more parts, about the Axolotl in the immediate aftermath of the Euclidean Massacre. I'll be posting one chapter a week, Fridays 5pm CST, so stick around if you wanna watch the Axolotl run out of ways to pretend Bill didn't destroy his own dimension.

It's ALSO chapter 61 Part Five of an ongoing post-canon post-TBOB very-reluctantly-human Bill fic. So if you wanna read more of me writing Bill, check it out. If you're not sold on the idea of a human Bill fic, I've also got a one-shot about normal triangle Bill escaping the Theraprism if you wanna read that.

If this is NOT your first time here and you already knew all of the above: Bill got SO CLOSE to looking like a misguided good guy last chapter, and that's why he had to throw a baby.

No actually it was because it seemed really really funny. Flipped that flat little thing like a pancake.

Due to real-world reasons, this is another chapter that isn't as edited & polished as usual, so let me know if you noticed any rough spots that need buffing. And let me know what you think! Bill with his cult leader persona cranked up to 100% is probably the hardest Bill to write.)

#gravity falls axolotl #the axolotl #(for the actual chapter)#bill cipher #(for the art. and also the chapter)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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cevansbrat0007 · 2 days ago

Text

Guessing Games: A Fast Car Interlude

Summary: You accidentally trigger Ari's jealous streak. Takes place directly after the events in Guessing Games.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Implied Future Smut, Ari Being A Menace, Brat!Reader, Jealous!Ari, Innocent Flirting, Stupid Men, Manhandling, Mentions of Spanking, Discussions of Self-Image, Mentions of Lingerie, Semi-Public Sex, Allusions to Fingering, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: After a shitty week, please enjoy this completely self-indulgent fic. Part of my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

“Hey. I know this car.” You think as you come to stand in front of a vehicle on display that happens to look strangely familiar. Smoothing your hands down the skirt of your sundress, you manage a quick side-step, narrowly avoiding a collision with a small child who was too busy enjoying his ice cream cone to pay attention to where he was going.

You’ve been wandering around Fulton County’s annual Classic Car Showcase for the better part of an hour now, and so far things were going better than you’d expected. And not only that, but you were even beginning to have fun.

“I can see why this one caught your eye.” A familiar voice muses as he comes up behind you.

“I’m trying to figure out where I’ve seen it before. But I’m drawing a blank.” Angling your body, you reach for one of Ari’s big hands, grasping it with both of yours. “Any ideas?”

“You really don’t recognize it?”

“‘Fraid not.” Your lips purse as you continue to wrack your brain.

“It’s an exact replica of The General Lee, the 1969 Dodge Charger driven by Bo and Luke.”

“Who?” You stare up at him confused.

That earns you a chuckle, followed by him placing a gentle kiss atop your head. “Bo and Luke. From The Dukes of Hazzard. It was a popular show back in the eighties.” He explains, brushing a stray curl away from your face.

“Oh. Got it.” You nod, pretending to understand. “Mystery solved.”

You both stand there a few moments longer – mostly so he can admire the engine, or whatever the hell you assumed he was doing. Once he’s looked his fill, it’s apparently time to move on to the next car that catches his interest. You’re seemingly content to trail behind him until you happen to spot a nearby cluster of tents.

“Ari?”

“Yeah, little Bird?” The rich timbre of his voice has you smiling before you even realize you’re doing it.

“I reckon all this car hoppin’ has me feelin’ a little parched.” You tell him, turning your attention to the concessions located just across the lot. “I’m gonna go fetch myself a lemonade real quick while the lines are short.”

As expected, your man responds without missing a beat. But not before leading you over to the shade so that you can continue your conversation. Which was a good thing seeing as the temperature outside was hovering around the mid-eighties.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we?” Mirroring your smile, he brings your hand to his lips so that he can kiss the ridges of your knuckles. “Let’s go get you somethin’ to drink.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’ll go while you hang out here in the shade.” Your palms come up to rest against the hard wall of his chest. “Besides,” you continue when he opens his mouth to object. “It’s not like I’m going far. I’ll just be right over there.”

“Nah.” Ari swiftly disagrees, adjusting his sunglasses. “How about you wait here while I go get us both something to drink?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yep.” He gently flicks the tip of your nose. “After all, what kinda man would I be if I left my sweetheart out here to melt?”

“I mean…if you insist.” Rising on your toes – a feat made easier thanks to your wedge heels – you plant a smooch on his bearded cheek. “Hurry back, sugar.”

Now that he’s officially a man on a mission, Ari wastes almost no time making a beeline for the concessions. But not before issuing a stern warning to you, his curious little Bird.

“Don’t you go wanderin’ off on me, darlin’.” He growls, leaning down to tenderly peck your lips . “I expect to find you right here in this spot when I come back.”

And then he’s gone. You barely have time to respond with a playful salute before he’s striding off in search of sustenance for you both. Leaving you alone to twiddle your thumbs while you dutifully await his return.

Not that you minded. If anything, grateful for this brief respite from the heat. It never crosses your mind to abandon your spot in favor of looking at more cars. At least, not until you spy one that has you gasping in pure delight.

“Woah.” You breathe as you come to stand in front of the one vehicle with the power to transport you straight back to your childhood: a 1958 Plymouth Fury.

Better known as the car from Stephen King’s novel, Christine.

You’d absolutely loved this movie as a kid. So much so that your Uncle had bought you your own personal copy after he got tired of renting it for you weekend after weekend. Why, you must’ve seen it over a hundred times.

But as luck would have it, your private glee is interrupted by the sound of a voice coming up behind you.

“She’s a beaut, ain’t she?” The man asks, his southern drawl growing even more inviting when he tips his black stetson. “Restored her myself.”

“Holy crap! It looks just like the one from the film.” You chirp, reaching out to run your fingers along the shiny finish before swiftly thinking better of it. “Sorry.” Is all you can manage as you turn to face him. “I just…never thought I’d get the chance to see it in person.”

“Well…” The dark haired cowboy admits, flashing a chagrined smile. “It’s not actually the car. But it’s pretty dang close. Took me a few years, seeing that pretty smile of yours makes it all worth it.” His smile only grows wider as he holds out his hand to you. “The name’s Russell, by the way.”

You two spend a few more moments exchanging names and pleasantries before he politely redirects the attention back to the prized vehicle in front of you. Russell invites you to ask all the questions you like, only to laugh when you eagerly take him up on his offer.

In fact, you’re enjoying the conversation so much that you hardly notice when he slowly begins inching closer to you, his leanly muscled frame almost boxing you in. He was charming – you’d give him that much. And easy on the eyes.

Russell was the type of man who warranted a second look. Or at least he would. That is, assuming you hadn’t already been blessed with the gift of Ari Daniel Levinson.

“You know,” He murmurs, his cool gaze warming as he boldly peruses your dress. “Something tells me this conversation would pair wonderfully with a glass of wine.” His hand reaches for yours once more. “Perhaps over dinner?”

“Oh, I’m sorry...” The shocked apology comes tumbling out of your mouth. “I–I can’t. I actually came with someone. He’s–”

“Look, I don’t wanna be too forward.” Russell smoothly interrupts, stroking his thumb along the ridge of your knuckles. “But I haven’t been able to let you out of my sight since I saw you damn near an hour ago. Honestly can’t remember the last time I came across a woman as sweet as you.”

“That’s awfully kind of you to say.” You reply, intending to let him down easy.

“I saw that fella you were with.” He continues in earnest, still refusing to relinquish his grip on your hand. “Also saw him walk off and abandon you too.”

“He didn’t – no one abandoned anybody!” Closing your eyes, you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation. You weren’t used to men hitting on you like this. It has you feeling way out of your depth.

“Be that as it may, I also believe in fate.” His already gravelly voice dips an octave. “I mean, I’ve come to this showcase year after year and never once have I met someone like you.”

“I…I’m not sure I’d go that far.” You hedge as you weigh your options.

On one hand, you really did want to be polite. But you also needed to be firm. You already had a man in your life. A man who owned you – mind, body, and soul. Not that you’d had any say in the matter. But these days, you were well past complaining about the handsome Beast of a man you’d come to cherish.

“Think about it.” Your would-be suitor implores, giving you a gentle squeeze. “There has to be a reason our paths crossed today.”

Alright. It was officially time to put a nail in this coffin. You open your mouth to respond, only to have someone else beat you to the punch.

“I think it’s about time you let go of her hand.” Ari rumbles, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “Now.”

“Something I can help you with, buddy?” Russell responds without hesitation, clearly annoyed by the other man’s sudden reappearance. “Because the lady and I were in the middle of a conversation.”

“And I’m sure it was a great one.” Your bounty hunter is too busy glaring at his apparent rival to pay you any real mind. Although, he’s quick to shove a cup of what you suspect to be lemonade into your palm the second Russell releases his hold. “Too bad it’s over now. Let’s go, sweet Bird.”

The ice in his tone is enough to make you shiver. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ari was none too happy to find you entertaining the company of another man. But the last thing you’d expected was for him to be jealous.

Unless you were reading things wrong.

“I’m afraid you’re gonna have to wait, fella.” Russell surprises everyone by coming to stand almost nose-to-nose with Ari. “Because she and I were about to take the ride out for a little spin.”

“We most certainly were not.” You try, impatiently tugging on his arm. “Ari, let’s just go.” Although, you’re not surprised when you end up being completely ignored.

“Oh yeah?”

“Guess that’s what happens when you abandon a pretty little flower like her all alone in an empty field.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Russelly makes a point of poking your man in his chest. “I’m just glad I was lucky enough to be here to catch your mistake.”

Worry fills you when you see Ari simply nod along, his brawny shoulders wrought with tension. Sucking on his teeth, the bounty hunter briefly looks away as he forces himself to take a calming breath. Not that it seems to help any.

“You know what? I get it. No, really–I do.” Ari smirks, reaching up to lightly scratch at his jaw. “I knew what I was getting into, walking into a showcase like this with a beautiful woman on my arm, wearin’ the hell out of that dress.” One thick arm wraps itself around your waist, hauling you close. “My girl turns heads everywhere she goes. She’s just too sweet to realize it.”

Tucking you behind him, your man bridges the last bit of distance between himself and Russell. And while you can’t see his face, you’re shocked when he gently lifts his rival’s hat from his head, before tossing it in the direction of his forgotten plymouth.

“And sometimes that sweetness makes cowboys do stupid fuckin’ things.” Ari continues, sounding almost smug. But you don’t miss the danger in his tone. “Which is why I’m gonna be the bigger man right now and walk away, before I give into the urge to find out if you have what it takes to make the long drive home with a fractured arm.”

“Alright, that’s enough from you two.” You snap, finally fed up with all this male posturing. After all this nonsense, you just wanted to sit down and enjoy your drink before all the ice melted. “Russell, cool car. But I’m not interested, okay? And as for you, Ari…”

In lieu of responding, your man chooses to quirk one impatient, tawny brow.

“You’re looking a little flushed. I think it’s time we got you outta the sun.” Grabbing his wrist, you proceed to physically drag him away from the scene. It takes virtually all your might, but you’re grateful when his legs finally begin to move.

You don’t stop walking until you reach a set of picnic tables that are far enough away from the show to give you both some much needed privacy while you hashed things out.

“Darlin’, I can tell by your face you’re fixin’ to yell.” Ari growls, yanking his arm out of your grasp. "And I'd like to make my case before you start." His frown only deepens as he watches you perch on the edge of a bench, but not before taking a dramatic sip of your ice cold lemonade.

It tastes divine – the perfect treat for a hot summer’s day.

“Did you really have to throw the poor man’s hat?” You ask, fanning yourself.

“Probably not. But it felt good.” He shrugs, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Should’ve stuffed his ass in the goddamned trunk while I was at it.”

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but I was in the process of letting him down easy.”

“Could’ve sworn I told your bratty self to stay put where I fuckin’ left you.” His normally clear blue eyes glitter dangerously, letting you know that he’s pissed. “I mean, it was bad enough waitin’ in line listening to two idiots talk about which one of ‘em was gonna be brave enough to ask for your number…”

“Yeah right.” You scoff, looking up at the sky as you pray for patience.

“Roll ‘em at me one more time, baby. Swear to God.” Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he finds himself wondering for the umpteenth time just what the hell he’d been thinking bringing you to something like this with you wearing a dress like that. “I’m just itchin’ for a reason to lift that skirt and redden your disrespectful ass.”

In Ari’s mind, you were always the prettiest girl in the room. But on a day like today? You were downright irresistible. And what made it even worse is that you honestly had no idea the effect you had sometimes – on him and damn near every other man who came into your presence.

“You can’t talk like that!” You hiss, hoping that you weren’t being overheard.

“And just why the hell not?”

“Because we’re in public, you Beast!”

Rising to your feet, you set your drink on the table, deciding it might be better if you put some distance between you. Too bad Ari chooses to follow, walking you backwards until you feel yourself collide with the base of a nearby tree. His hands come to rest on either side of your head, effectively caging you in with his much larger frame.

“I should’ve known what I was getting into the moment I decided to let you walk outta the house wearing that dress.” Ari rasps, trailing his nose along the delicate column of your throat. “I thought I was safe, even with that lacey little scrap of nothin’ you’ve got hidin’ underneath.”

You barely manage to stifle a moan when your man captures your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking hard before releasing it with a soft pop. One of his hands leaves its purchase to settle dangerously low on your hip.

“But I see now that’s not enough for you, is it baby?” You press your thighs together when that same hand moves once again. This time working it’s way under your skirt - his short, blunt nails dancing along your skin as his mouth hovers a mere centimeter above yours. “I’m not sure why you thought it might be a good idea to tease me like this. Not too keen on you flirting with other men.”

“I promise I wasn’t.” Your eyes flutter closed as he grinds his growing erection against the softness of your belly. “I just got excited about the car. It’s from one of my favorite Stephen King stories.”

“Is that why I found you two holdin’ hands?” You let out a whimper when you feel the roughened pads of his fingers dig into your heated flesh, making you squirm. “Because you were excited?”

It wasn’t often that your man got riled up like this. But when he did there was almost no getting through to him until he calmed down. If you were lucky, you could typically drag him to some place quiet, away from prying eyes and listening ears.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, sugar.” Leaning up, you press a kiss against the corner of his mouth. “I suppose I wouldn’t like it either if I saw you holding hands with a random woman. Promise it won’t happen again.” You add, weaving your arms around his trim waist after all you receive is a grunt for your trouble.

Although you can’t help but notice that some of the tension seems to have finally left his shoulders.

“Thank you.”

Ari allows his forehead to rest against your own as he struggles to collect himself. Wanting more, you cup his face with your hands, bring his mouth down for a much needed kiss. His eager tongue dances with yours, demanding more of your submission as the passion builds.

You’re both breathing hard when you finally come up for air. However, you realize your man’s not done. At least not yet.

“You’re enough to drive a man insane. You know that?” He groans in between soft, yet feral kisses. “I swear I try to be progressive – I do. I got sisters. A niece.” A sound almost like a purr rumbles in his chest as he nuzzles his nose in the crop of your neck. “But I’m also man enough to admit I’ve got a bit of a jealous streak. Never was much of a problem until I met you.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.” You murmur at the same time as your pussy spasms, dampening your panties with your slick.

“Good.” Ari lifts your leg, hitching it around his waist and not giving a damn about who sees. “And Bird?”

“Uh huh?” A shiver courses through you as he begins covering your exposed flesh with tiny, possessive love bites. This time you make no move to stop him. Thank goodness you’d had the foresight to pack some concealer.

“I hate to break it to you.” His mouth finds yours once more, deliberately teasing you with each sensual stroke and flick of his tongue. “But you and me, we’re not gonna make it back to Bell’s Creek tonight.”

“And w–why is that?” Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head as his fingers find your clit, toying with the swollen nub through the soaked fabric of your panties.

“Because I’m having the damnedest time trying to talk myself out of fucking you hard and fast on the hood of my truck.” He responds with an unapologetic shrug. “But I suppose I’ll just have to settle for a hotel, huh?” Grinning, he increases the pressure on your sensitive bundle of nerves, loving the way you buck and writhe beneath his touch.

“I’ll start hunting for reservations.” You move to reach for your phone even as you feel your vision blur and your toe s curl. “But whatever you do…oh God…just please don’t stop.”’

END

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hercarisntyours · 22 hours ago

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pain

#this scene #it's the bullet to my heart #my getting shot in the shoulder and falling into the insides of my planet if you will #why is b127 piss yellow #yeah this scene destroyed me #actually US it destroyed us the oplita community is in shambles at this scene #SHE WENT. AFTER HIM. WHAT THE FUCK.#sometimes I think what would happen if b didn't stop her and then I remember the amazing Jade at @jadeandroses wrote an absolutely gorgeous #and heart breaking fic about it that I will threaten you to read “the only way to bring me down” NOW GO READ IT NOW 🗣🤬🤬🗣🗣#HOW DARE SHE GO AFTER HIM LIKE ELITA WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT ARE YOU INSANE WHAT THE HELL #LIKE GIRL DO YOU KNOW YOU'D DIE? RIGHT?? girl... WHY elita wtf do you WANT to break my heart into a million pieces #and make me spend hours analysing 5 seconds of a movie scene because if so mission accomplished #I have to point it out again BUT CAT!!! THE FIRST PICTURE!!! CATLITA!!!!!!!#elita one #elita 1 #transformers #transformers one #tf one #tf one elita #orion pax #tf one orion pax #B 127 #bumblebee #tf one b 127 #tf one bumblebee #also the guy behind do you think he was like #“oh FUCK oh shit is she going after oh well okay sucks for her.man today is a weird day for the high guard”

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flamyangelwings · 3 days ago

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Not to mention then going through the author's bookmarks to get what is essentially a cultivated list of fic recommendations. If the author has written things tou like, it's likely they've also read things you will like

I am incredibly serious right now when I beg you all, please, and if you have Twitter or Tiktok or whatever to please spread the word: click on an author's profile on Ao3.

You want to know if an author has written more? Want to know if they're still writing? Want to see more from them? Want to know if they've written a trope or kink or sex scenario you enjoy?

Click on their name. And look at their profile.

I cannot tell you how many times in the last six months someone has read a new or newer fic of mine and said they (a new reader who has read nothing else I've done) "can't wait to see what you do next!" I've written 50+ fics and over a million words already.

"I don't know if you're still writing..." click on my profile. I am. I literally wrote a 128k+ fic for that ship last month.

"Would you ever do X?" "Please do Y!" I already did. Click on my name and look at my works.

Archive of our Own is a library. It's an archive. Not social media. It is your responsibility to fight back against the laziness that corporate algorithms have trained into you.

Click my author name. Just click it. Just click it.

Before you demand more, or ask if a writer will do XYZ, or wonder if the author still writing, or anything - click on their profile. Click on the author's profile.

I'm not trying to be mean or condescending or anything like that. I'm just exhausted. It's disheartening and frustrating to repeat myself ad nauseam, because someone couldn't take thirty seconds to do the tiniest bit of work to see if I've written lately, if I've written more for their ship, or scan my works to see if I've written what they're asking for. Please. Please. I'm begging.

Click the author's name, and explore before you ask.

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p4ranormaluv · 23 hours ago

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BEWITCHED — 재윤, 제이

jake and jay are the complete opposite of vampire stereotypes. they aren't sex gods or evil devils like the people warn, they've never drank human blood or even lost their virginity. in reality, jake and jay are two loser best friends who touch themselves more than they've touched a woman's hand and they drink animal's blood. when they find out you've been blamed for their actions, the townspeople accusing you of witchcraft and sacrificing livestock, the two men try their best to help prove your innocence. in exchange you offer them your blood.

PAIRING: vampire!jake x f!reader x vampire!jay

GENRE: smut, romance, angst, dark fantasy au

CONTENTS: vague historical setting, strangers to poly relationship (no mlm), lovey dovey petnames (fight me), mutual love bombing? (in a good way), getting frisky in a corn maze, witches & trials, brief talk of animal sacrifices/death, biting & blood drinking, hanging, past death/side character death (with graphic desc.), one pride and preduduce reference, ft. jungwon, not proofread (it’s way too long i’m sorry)

SMUT WARNINGS: under the cut!

WC: 22.7k

NOTE: there’s title markers to help you find your spot from where you last read! if you like this work please tell me <3 i realize this might not be everyone’s type of fic, but i’m hoping there’ll be a few others who enjoy it. lengthy feedback is welcome as always :)

SMUT WARNINGS: two smut scenes (but they’re long af), virgin!jayke, sub!jayke & dom!reader (maybe kinda switchy at times), bedroom titles (puppy, angel, miss, etc), jayke get turned on by drinking your blood, voyeurism (jake watches you bathe), masturbation, jay is the goodest boy, jake is a pervy cuck in disguise as a good boy, oral sex, piv, creampie (vamps can’t procreate), breeding kink, praise/light degradation, making love but it’s filthy, double penetration, a little crying, breast stim, jayke eat you out at the same time

GUIDED BY FLAMES;

jake and jay are the complete opposite of vampire stereotypes. they aren’t sex gods or evil devils like the people warn. they’ve never drank human blood or even lost their virginity.

in reality, jake and jay are two loser best friends who touch themselves more than they’ve touched a woman’s hand and they drink animal blood.

“what the hell did this thing eat? it tastes awful.” jay complains after retracting his fangs from the creature’s body.

“it’s a goat, jay. most likely leftover slop.” jake answers as he watches in disgust at how jay’s mouth latches onto the goat’s furry flesh.

“would you stop staring at me like that?”

“you look like a heathen.” jake smirks at his own teasing, satisfied at the way jay’s eyes roll in annoyance, continuing to feed.

“i don’t understand how you can just drink it straight from the source. isn’t it disgusting?”

“i was starving. i didn’t want to wait for us to drain the carcass.” jay answers after drinking the creature dry, tossing it in a nearby wooden crate after.

later on the two boys will take the crate and descend into the forest to burn the body and destroy any evidence. but for now they go back inside the ‘abandoned’ cathedral— in which they’ve lived in for years. it’s the one place they feel safe— far away enough from the town line to keep them hidden, but close enough for them to walk by foot whenever they're due for another ‘blood run’.

of course they try their best to catch the wild animals that live in the forest before stealing the townspeople’s livestock, but they’re no huntsmen. the best the boys usually can catch is a hare or squirrel— and unfortunately, they’re not very filling.

“hey,” jake taps jay’s shoulder as they enter the high ceiling room they converted into a sitting area. there's a scarlet lounge couch, side table, pin cushion chair, as well as a few decorative items that they either found or were left behind.

jay turns to look skeptically at jake, the latter gesturing to his own teeth with a single pointed finger.

“you’ve got a little something here.”

“where?” jay asks with concern, immediately trying to scratch out whatever remains between his fangs.

“i think it’s…fur.” jake says with over dramatics, leaning in with faux concern and promptly bursting into a fit of giggles after.

jay realizes his sarcasm, nudging him firmly on the shoulder. “damn you.” he bites with only minor annoyance, most of it only for show as he lays down over the scarlet couch.

“we already are.” jake smirks, moving to sit in the chair he often occupies, picking up a book he’s just reached the middle mark of.

“clever.” jay replies flatly, the room falling into silence as the older shuts his eyes and the latter begins reading silently.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you’re out of breath, the cold night air causing your throat and chest to ache as you continue running into unknown darkness. you can no longer see the orange glow of the townspeople’s flaming torches— and the echo of their angry shouts grow fainter.

due to having no light before you other than the stars above, you trip over a fallen stick that snaps under your weight, causing you to harshly hit the ground. you huff— mostly by annoyance rather than the minor pain.

you can’t believe you’ve gone from being a…well— you were about to think ‘a well respected citizen’, but the townspeople hardly even treated you humanely. your father was a bastard child, so you were doomed from the start. your low status only added as reason for their distaste towards you— in the majority of the townspeople’s minds at least.

regardless, you never would have imagined they would accuse you of witchcraft— but here you are, groveling in the dirt as you run away from a mob of men and women with pitchforks and torches, wanting to capture you and put you on trial. (which are known to be unfathomably unfair.)

picking up your skirts to prevent further tripping, you stand up with a bothered pinch to your brow and continue forward.

you’re not sure what you’re going to do, but you certainly can’t return back to town right now— it would be certain death.

so you keep walking…and walking.

you’re not sure how much time has passed, but you’re certain the moon has risen higher in the sky than when you first started your trek.

then you see the faint glow of something in the distance.

your eyes narrow— stilling as you worry it may be the flame of someone’s torch, hunting you down. but the light is coming from the opposite direction of town— and by the looks of it, you’re deep into the thickest part of the forest at this point. it can’t be anyone seeking to throw a noose around your neck, surely.

so with hopeful energy in your steps, you walk closer to the light.

it leads you to an old cathedral that appears to have three levels. the faint glow of candle light comes from the second story’s window on the left. without thinking there’s any reason to knock, or that whoever’s up there would be able to hear you, you grab the large door's eccentric knob and open it.

it’s creaks, the sound making a chill run down your spine as the place is completely dark other than the moonlight pouring through the windows— though it’s not enough light for you to be able to see properly.

you take a few hesitant, fearful steps, thinking of how you’re in a very vulnerable position right now. someone could easily grab and hurt you— or do whatever they wanted, especially while you’re out in the middle of a forest. your father would surely have a heart attack from nerves. but you realize with a heavy heart that he must be feeling that way right now, wondering where his daughter is— or if you’ve been captured in prison, waiting to be put to trail.

you’re broken out of your depressing thoughts when you spot a lit candle in its holder down a long hall.

still walking slowly (and you’re not sure if it’s because you feel like you’re trespassing or from the fear of your own footsteps echoing eerily around you), you reach the single legged table that the candle sets upon, picking it up and holding it in front of you, revealing a staircase at the end of the hall.

you feel as though an eternity has passed when you finally reach the third floor. your overly cautious steps and halting every few seconds to peer into the darkness whenever you think you see or hear something is probably what’s to blame for it.

the weight of dread grows heavy in your stomach as you worry you’ll have to open every door in this endless hallway to find which room the light is coming from, but luckily, one of the doors is cracked, and you know it must be the room you’re looking for as the flickering light of candle flame reflects against the floor.

with a heart you feel is about to beat out of your chest, you slowly open the door.

“…hello?”

you’re brows furrow in confusion to find the room completely empty, yet appearing as though someone was just here?

there’s at least ten candles, all lit and resting on various surfaces, the white wax dripping down its base and golden stands as they’re clearly well used. a rug is on the dark hardwood floors, a large bookshelf with a plethora of old books, and two choices of where to sit.

you walk closer to one of the chairs, head tilting as you look at the book that lays on its seat cushion.

‘first folio’ it reads, ‘by william shakespeare’.

its blood red cover is stark against the dark fabric of the chair, the book laying spine up as if it was dropped haphazardly…

your stomach suddenly drops as you feel the powerful sensation of fear— like the impending feeling of doom is about to dig its claws into you.

you turn to run out of the room when you feel strong arms wrapping around yours, some sort of sack being thrown over your head.

you scream— blood curdling with the unmistakable sound of terror as you can hardly even muster the strength to struggle against the strong hold restricting your limbs and waist.

“please, please! let me go!”

you hear the sound of another body other than the one behind you, the second person sounding like they’re standing in front of you.

“please, don’t hurt me.” you start to sob, voice weak as you almost slump in your capture’s arms.

“why are you here?” the person— a man— in front of you asks, his tone deep and dangerous, like a warning.

“i— i…” you’re unsure of how to gather your words, especially in your panic and between tearful gasps of breath.

you decide to simply settle for the truth, you’re rather sure you won’t come out of this situation alive either way.

“i was ran out of town.”

the body against your back stiffens just a smidgen, but you don’t miss it.

“they— they think i’m a witch.” you sniffle, eyes watering again as you release this is how you will die, in darkness with a broken heart— ran out of town with the reputation of a poor seamstress and supposed witch. your father won’t ever know what’s become of you, forced to live the rest of his lonely life with the memory of your late mother and missing daughter.

“…are you?” the voice asks again, and you almost wonder if it’s even the same person with how much softer it sounds.

“no, no, i’m— i’m not.”

“and it’s…just you? do you have any weapons?”

“no.” you answer simply, voice cracking with desperation.

a few beats of silence pass, yet you feel as though something is happening between the two people.

“unhand her.”

“what! she could—“

“look at her, jay! she can do us no harm.”

another beat of silence, then a sigh right behind your head before the sack is pulled off and your arms are freed.

you blink hard to adjust your eyes and diminish your onslaught of tears. the blurry body of the man in front of you, and the second one who moves away from behind you to stand beside the other, slowly focus into view.

“who…who are you?” you breathe, trying to catch the breath you’ve lost from fright as you look at the two young men in front of you.

one’s eyes carry the softness of pity in them as he looks at you, longer, brown hair peeking out from the back of his neck just slightly as he stands with his hands holding themselves in front of him. he’s dressed in nice attire, a black waist coat with matching pants and boots, a white long sleeve underneath.

the second man was dressed similarly, but completely black— just like his shorter cut hair and bottomless eyes that bore into you. he reminded you of a snake— seconds away from striking.

and yet, even in your terror you could recognize that they were undeniably handsome.

“who are you is the better question.” the raven haired bites, tone harsh and slightly raised in volume.

“stop it.” the brunet interjects with scolding eyes, putting a hand to the other’s arms that are crossed defensively.

when he looks to you, his eyes soften immediately, tone gentle— as though he’s talking to a frightened animal. and you can’t really blame him for that. your legs are still trembling. you wonder if they can tell even with your long dress.

“i’m terribly sorry, miss. we really didn’t intend to scare you—“

“why do they think you to be a witch?” the other interrupts, voice demanding. the softer sighs, pinching is brow in annoyance.

“the…the livestock. more and more are vanishing. the townspeople think the animals are being used for sacrifices.”

the sharper one’s eyes widen for a moment, you seemingly catching him of kilter a bit. the other looks like he’s about to be downright sick.

“they…the animals?” he mumbles in shock, staring at you.

“what reasons do they have to think it’s you?” the dark one asks, slightly less demanding this time but still remaining stern.

“what reasons do they have for anyone?” you respond immediately, snapping slightly as your usual gumption rears its head at the mention of the subject that fills you with so much rage and sorrow. “they hung my own mother because of a baseless accusation of witchcraft— a nine year old girl was the most recent hanging.”

the raven haired swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as his hard exterior dwindles more and more.

he turns to his anxious looking companion, the two of them sharing a look that somehow looks just as dumbfounded as it does all-knowing.

“what are we to do?” the dark one (what did the other man call him earlier— jay?) asks, sounding completely lost as the other just shakes his head in disbelief.

“um— perhaps…uh,” jay stutters, turning between looking at you and the other. “give us a few moments to…discuss.”

you stare at him, standing stalk still— because what else can you do except go along with their every whim, you’re the one at a disadvantage here.

jay grabs the other’s arm, leading him out of the room before he turns to you once more, right before he shuts the door.

“and…please don’t try and jump out the window, alright?” he genuinely warns.

you hear the click of the knob, and you sigh as you now know he’s just locked you inside.

you stay in your spot, tears stopping but the tingle of your previous and slightly remaining fear lingering on your arms. but after what feels like a handful of minutes pass, you move to sit down on the chase couch. you haven’t had the chance to think about how tired you are from all the emotional exhaustion and running until your body meets the softness of the couch.

before you know it, your body drifts down to lower against the cushions, and you drift off to sleep.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

you’re slowly roused from the fog of sleep as you feel a poke to your arm.

“is she cattle? don’t prod her like that.”

“well i don’t know what to do! i’ve never woken a sleeping woman before, jake!”

you take a deep inhale as your eyes blink open, mind starting to become clearer as you sit up and rub your eyes before looking at the men in front of you.

“…hi again, miss.” the brunet smiles, awkward but charmingly as you’re slightly surprised at the flutter in your stomach it causes you.

“i’d like to apologize, for—…” the other begins, seeming to have a hard time finding his words.

finally he starts over, holding his hand out to you with a slight bow. he looks up at you through his eyebrows, a slight curve to his lips that’s somewhat tilted, akin to a humble smirk.

“my names jay. i’m sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.”

“likewise.” you reply, giving him your hand as he places the ghost of a kiss to it, showing his regret.

you’re a little unsure of how you should act. first they capture you, and now they’re acting gentlemanly?

“i’m y/n.”

“my names jake, miss y/n.” the barely shorter smiles, keeping a noticeable distance to you, especially compared to jay.

“so…” the other starts, looking back at jake for a reaffirming glance before holding your gaze. “we’ve come to an agreement. we’re going to help you.”

you falter, staring at them clearly confused. “i…why would you help me?”

“because we’re responsible for your misfortunes, miss.” jake replies, eyes flickering up to yours for a fleeting moment before looking down at his feet. he seems to be the shyer one out of the two.

“how…how are you…”

your eyes rake over their appearances one more time as you take in your situation.

you’re in the middle of a forest, in an old cathedral that these two men seem to live in. they’re young, seemingly healthy despite their slightly pale appearance. and aside from this well lit room, they seem to be entirely satisfied to wander around in the darkened halls.

and they’re saying they’re responsible…for….

your eyes flash with recognition that the two men are able to recognize, waiting and trying to prepare themselves for any reaction you may have.

“are you…vampires?”

“yes.” jay answers.

“but don’t be afraid!” jake adds, raising his hands in front of him as if to show his innocence. “we haven’t been…we’re not bad! and we’re not going to hurt you!”

“we don’t drink human blood.” jay continues calmly, a stark contrast to his friend. “that’s why the animals have been disappearing, we feed off of them instead.”

“you haven’t fed off of humans…ever?”

“only once, when we first turned. and that’s only because we’d gone mad from the transition.” jay promises with steady eyes. you look to jake, who almost flinches at your gaze, cheeks flaring into a pink blush as he shakes his head in confirmation.

you pause, deep in your head as you’re processing the information.

and your conclusion is— well, what else do you have to lose?

“so you’ll really help me?”

“we promise, lady y/n. we feel awful that it’s our fault you’re in this position— that anyone’s in this position at all, really.” jay assures. “we think it’d be a good idea to wait a good while though, until the villagers aren’t searching for you anymore?”

you nod your head in agreement, jay smiling and looking surprisingly sweet, completely unlike the stone cold man that interrogated you previously.

“great. and by that time, me and jake are hoping we’ll have devised a good enough plan. it might not sound like much but it’s the best we can offer.”

“no, that’s— this is a great help. thank you.”

“….and i’m terribly sorry i put that bag over your head!” jake bursts out awkwardly, the deeply sorry yet out of place confession making you gradually descend from a small giggle to full on laughter, jay joining you as well as he looks over at jake amusedly.

“let’s just forget about that. we’re starting fresh.” you smile.

the flustered boy is only able to respond with another nod, still unable to hold eye contact for very long.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

living with jay and jake is quaint, but there’s an undeniable charm to it— to them.

they bicker playfully often, but the moment they realize you’re watching with amused eyes or soft laughter, they pull apart as though embarrassed, brushing off their attire with blushed cheeks.

jay is ever the nurturer, always asking if you’re feeling well, physically and mentally. he’s the one who helped you adjust your sleeping schedule to their night time life— since they can’t walk in the sun. every time you woke, he’d be right there, a tray of delicious food that he prepared himself just for you.

“where did you learn to cook so skillfully? i must say, i didn’t expect a vampire to know how to prepare food so well when you don’t even eat yourself.” you asked while munching on a biscuit glazed in honey and butter.

jay smiled, the kind that has been making your stomach flounder like a fish lately— eyes sparkling and cheeks rising, a stark contrast to the handsome yet sharp expression his face usually rests in.

“i enjoyed cooking often before i turned.” he’d answered simply, leaving you to wonder about the life the both of them led before they became creatures cursed to the dark shadows of the night.

jake is akin to a skittish, stray puppy. it’s quite clear that he wants to speak to you more comfortably and spend time with you as jay does, but the moment you direct your attention to him he spirals into a stuttering mess with shaking pupils.

nevertheless, he’s incredibly polite.

you were balancing on a latter that was connected to the bookshelf, trying your hardest to grab a specific book that remained just out of your reach. you heard someone entering the room and turned your head out of instinct to see who it was, and you lost your footing.

your high pitched yelp and the squeak of shoes against hardwood was all that you can remember as you fell, before you fell into the surprisingly strong arms of—

“jake?”

“m— miss! you shouldn’t be on the latter when wearing such long of skirts!” he scolded, tone ever so gentle and sweet even as he did so.

“i’m sorry.” you apologized softly, feeling as though it was only appropriate given how close his face was to yours. jake suddenly became aware of this as you caught his eyes glancing down to your lips, before a raging red burned the tips of his ears, quickly spreading to his cheeks.

he put you down gently, but in a hurry— avoiding your gaze once again as he offered: “j— just tell me what you wish to read and i’ll get it for you, miss.”

irrefutably, they were kind hearted men— which is why it saddened you when they had to leave for hours on end almost every other day, struggling to catch anything significant in the forest, since they learned of the witch trails and stopped taking animals from the town.

you’ve thought heavily about it in the two weeks you’ve been here, and secretly you’ve collected and have been reading any book you could find in their vast collection about vampires.

just a few hours into the night and you see jay and jake looking out the window, judging by the rise of the moon what time it is.

you know they’re about to turn around to tell you they’re about to change and go on the hunt, and so you interrupt them before either of them can take a breath.

“i don’t want you to go hunting anymore.” you state almost a little too urgently, the two men turning to you with a look as though you’d grown two heads.

“but…my lady, we have to.” jay explains, almost sounding as though he’s asking a question with how confused he is over your outburst.

“what if you didn’t have to…” you begin, unsure of how to say it.

“what do you mean?” jake asks, a rare moment where he’s fully staring at you, bashfulness forgotten as you stand before them.

“i…i could give you my blood.”

jay’s eyes widen impossibly, and jake becomes so flustered he hides his face in his hands and turns his back to you in favor of staring out the window.

“y/n! but— you…it’s…”

jay’s eyes unfocus as his gaze is almost aimless, staring at nothing as you can tell he’s consumed by his thoughts.

then he clears his throat and shakes his head, your interest sparked as it’s rare for even him to be bashful— and if you didn’t know his expressions so well you would have missed it.

“it’s not…to be taken lightly, giving a vampire your blood. especially since…”

“since you haven’t fed off a human before, besides that one time. i know.” you begin, knowledgeable from your vampiric studying.

a vampire drinking blood, especially from a willing human— it’s intimate, and can sometimes be somewhat of a sexual act. especially when jay and jake have been deprived of human blood for such a long time, it’s more likely to get…intense. and you can’t lie, the thought thrills you— but that’s not even your intention. your purpose is pure. why have the boys go out every night to struggle to fill their appetite when you’re right here?

“i’m aware of it all, jay. and i still want to help you…if you want to have me.”

jake abruptly makes a choked sound that descends into a cough from your words, that he knows you didn’t mean to sound so…suggestive. and yet he finds himself having to talk himself down, desperate to calm the growing hardness between his legs before it’s noticeable.

jay stares at you with wide black eyes that can hold every spark of light in his irises, biting his lip and subsequently flashing his sharpened fangs at you. your heart stirs.

“are you…sure?”

“entirely, jay. i’ve thought of this for a while.”

“and you’re aware that it…will hurt, a bit.”

you nod your head, a small smile that’s meant to be soothing on your lips.

“i’m not one to be overly sensitive to pain.”

“…alright,” jay whispers, growing closer to stand before you, the tips of his shoes just beneath your skirts.

your heart starts to beat faster in anticipation, slowly pulling the sleeve of your bodice down to further reveal your neck and the junction of your shoulder, staring up at jay the entire time.

the raven haired man shudders a breath, unable to control where his gaze lands anymore as he looks from your face to the smooth skin of your clavicle, and how the short ruffled hem of your blouse frames it enticingly. your breathing becomes faster as jay finally closes the small remaining distance, hands holding your waist as he pulls you against him. his nose brushes against your cheek, and you can hear him taking a slow inhale.

“you smell good…like you’ll taste sweet.” he mutters almost to himself, but you feel your body reacting to his words and his breath fanning against your neck, large hands gripping your waist more firmly.

“your heart is beating faster.” jay wonders, leaning further down towards the junction of your shoulder. “are you ready, my lady?”

“yes, jay. go ahead…bite me.”

his mouth bares as he’s not slow in sinking his teeth into your flesh, making the pain not as bad— but it’s still enough to make you gasp, a burning hurt in your shoulder that turns into an odd yet tingly sensation as jay starts to suck.

you sigh as you get used to the feeling, jay’s lips pressing into your skin. his hands move in favor to wrap his arms entirely around your waist, and you find yourself having to surpass a moan at his chest being pressed against yours, and how his sucking spreads that tingly— growingly pleasurable weak sensation all over your body.

“jake,” you breathily call out, wanting the boy to get a taste before you’ll have to stop.

the brunet slowly turns around, big brown eyes glossy in the moonlight as they roam over your form that’s captured in jay’s hold. your dress has lowered even more, breasts peeking out from the top as your face is contorted into an almost pleasurable expression.

you look absolutely breathtaking— and delectable. which is maybe why jake hardly even notices how his feet take a step forward.

still, he’s hesitant, and you find yourself cooing to him with one arm outstretched.

“come, jakey. it’s okay. get your fill.”

you don’t miss the earnest whimper that he lets out before he’s suddenly in front of you, legs trembling as he stumbles to his knees beneath you. his hands are desperate and eager as he grabs your forearm, bringing himself closer until his teeth are piercing into your veins.

you can’t help the pained sound you let out, jake much more messy and uncoordinated with how he bites you, and him sucking right at your veins make that pleasurable feeling grow ten fold. your cunt pulses strongly between your legs, nipples hardening as you feel like everything becomes more sensitive.

your moan is crude, but the boys only react with throaty whines of their own as they press and suck their plush lips to your skin more desperately. all control has practically been lost between the three of you all at once, your thighs growing weaker as jake presses himself to your leg, one hand wrapping around it from beneath your dress while the other still holds your arm with bruising strength that you’re sure is unconscious. jake’s legs squeeze around your ankle, and that’s when you’re made aware of the distinct hardness his cock has turned. you find your foot pushing against him without thinking, the movement so slight— and yet jake his moaning out from the sensation.

one of jay’s hands creeps up from your waist to cup your jaw, tilting you more to the side before his fingers feel downward, over the veins of your neck.

“y— y/n,” he exhales shakily, retracting his teeth out of your shoulder to lick at the blood that drips down.

you let out a moaned sigh that sounds too weak for jay’s liking. he tightens his hold of you in his arms, finding himself having to keep you upright as you lose the strength to stand. his eyes look into yours, which are hazy and half lidded.

though he loves how undeniably arousing you look like this, he knows you need a break.

“jake..jake, stop.”

jake is still mindlessly sucking away at your blood, and when jay sees him grind his hips down onto your shoe, he takes a handful of his hair and roughly yanks him off of you.

“jake! that’s enough!”

your eyes start to repetitively blink until they’re shut, leaning all of your weight into jay’s arms as you drift into a deep slumber.

the tone of your relationship changes after that, and the three of you become lovers.

it was bound to happen, you realize now— with how sweet jay and jake are, and the sexual tension that keeps building between you with every blood feeding you give them.

jake is still easily flustered, but incredibly clingy and affectionate now. and jay fares no better, a protective hand always having to be pressed to the small of your back or around your waist.

now when they bicker they don’t stop until you’re having to scold them or pull them apart, and the boys only seem to enjoy how you fuss over them. when you wake you are still greeted with a tray of jay’s delicious food, but now instead of having jay simply sit by your side, jay and jake are both in your bed, cuddled up to your side or brushing their fingers through your hair.

the passion of your affections are growing, and so is your lust— and you can only wonder when the rope holding you all back will snap.

after four weeks of hiding out in their cathedral, jay and jake finally begin a conversation about how to prevent your own hanging.

“quite frankly, why don’t we just flee to another town?” jake asks as you all sit in the common area. you’re sprawled across jay’s lounge sofa, the raven haired man having you between his legs while jake sits at his usual spot in his chair.

“i can’t leave my father, and he won’t abandon the farm. it’s not much but…it’s his whole livelihood. and it’s where he lived with mother…”

jay and jake share a look, the older running a comforting hand through your hair as he speaks to you in a comforting tone.

“then we won’t flee, dearest. we’ll just have to find another way.”

“do you have any witnesses of your recent doings before they accused you?” jake asks after a quiet moment of deep thinking.

you ponder over his words, having trouble with how jay’s arm squeezes possessively around your waist. jake’s lips push into a pout as his brows furrow, beginning to feel jealous at the way you let jay be all over you— while he’s across just watching.

“yes. in fact, my week was full with appointments.” you recall.

you have a small seamstress shop to help ends meet, and though it’s quaint, it’s what you’re known for— which can come as a help with your current predicament.

“i think i had a customer every day. with the cold weather fast approaching, everyone wants to get their clothes patched up or new ones made.”

“perfect! so we’ll just talk to them and ask them to give their account.” jay says cheerily, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, causing you to giggle.

jake practically scoffs, abruptly standing to march over and kneel, wrapping his arms around your middle and pressing his face into your stomach.

“my tuurrn.” he whines, rubbing his nose against you and making you ticklish.

“alright, alright, puppy. come here.” you laugh, jake eagerly hopping up to lay himself in your lap.

he lets out a content sigh as your fingers massage at his scalp, jay chuckling under his breath.

“but how will you help me gather witnesses when you can’t walk in the sun?”

“we’ll just have to go at night, lovely. it may raise suspicion but…what more can we do?”

jay assumes the plan has ended at that. the boys won’t let you go alone to town in fear you’ll end up dead, so in their minds the plan is to run into town at night, gathering as many testimonials as they can over the span of a few days while hiding out in your father’s barn when the sun's out. but unbeknownst to the two men— you just won’t have it. the plan is more than a little iffy. the townspeople have been an edge from the witching trails and missing livestock for a while now. people are staying awake at night— watching out for anything that seems odd. with this plan, not only will you be hung, but jay and jake too.

so as you sit there, squeezed between your two overly affectionate lovers who you’ve only just begun the pleasure of knowing— you devise a secret plan of your own.

you’ll just have to wait for the perfect moment to put it into action.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the night is a foggy one, leaving your skin uncomfortably clammy.

jay prepares you a bath in a tin basin, left outside at the back of the church from where they would commence baptismals.

“make sure to let it cool.” warns jay as he pours the boiling water he prepared into the tub. “it shouldn’t take long with how cold it is.”

“thank you, angel.” you smile, jay coming closer to receive a peck on the cheek.

“don’t take too long to bathe, my lady. it’s safe, but i don’t like the thought of you being out here by yourself.”

you assure him you’ll be quick, and with one last look jay is opening the back door and going back inside, leaving you to the misty night.

it takes a bit for you to untie your corset and layers of skirts, hanging each article of clothing on the short stair rail of the back door until you’re stripped bare. the basin is billowing with steam, but when you prick your finger into the water it’s just the right temperature.

careful to not fall as you step in, you sink yourself into the water with a relaxed sigh.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

jake walks down the long corridor, heeding jay’s words to check on you as his anxiousness only seems to grow with every minute that passes, jake feeling the same way.

which is possibly why he forgets the fact that you are naked until he opens the door enough to crack, and gets an eyeful of your gloriously bare body, and he’s suddenly struck dumb— standing completely still and unable to look away.

you look as beautiful and dangerous as a siren, soaking in the steaming tub with skin that shines in the moonlight. your breasts are barely concealed beneath the water, one long leg peaking out and balancing along the basin’s edge. your hair is damp as you run your fingers through it, and jake doesn’t miss how the movement pushes your breasts together.

you are the most beautiful creature he’s ever laid eyes on— and jake hasn’t seen many naked women, but after seeing you he doesn’t desire to see anymore, as none could ever compare.

jake swallows dryly. enough seconds have passed for him to have at least one cognitive thought, which is that it’s entirely ungentlmenly to be watching a naked woman bathe— even if that naked woman is his lover— without her permission.

but he just…can’t.

against his better judgment and beliefs, jake continues watching you through the crack of the door, ignoring how his cock twitches to life at the sight of you.

after running your hands through your hair a bit, getting all the tangles out, you lean over the tub to grab a bar of soap. jake luckily is quick enough to press a hand to his mouth before his gasp escapes when you sit up straighter in the tub, revealing the entirety of your breasts and perked nipples to his perverted eyes. as you start to rub the soap over your body, bubbly suds run down your body and between the swells of your chest, making jake grow in jealousy as he wishes he had that honor.

his ‘second brain’, painfully hard and throbbing— is getting impossible to ignore. so jake lets one hand move down to grope at himself, softly jerking it through his pants.

he’s never felt such intense pleasure while touching himself as he does right now, and he knows it’s because he has a gorgeous woman with a heavenly body to watch as he imagines it was you touching his cock, calling him a good boy as you’d allow him to squeeze and suck at your tits.

jake has to bite down on his bottom lip to conceal a shuddered breath, and when you put down the soap to lift both your hands and start massaging the suds into the skin of your breasts, the poor boy almost chokes.

“puppy…i know you’re here.”

jake’s eyes widen as he stands stock-still, unable to even remove his hand from his crotch as he feels like prey standing in front of a lioness.

you turn your head to look at him, a sultry smirk on your lips that has jake whimpering.

you let out a small giggle at the sound and how sensitive the boy must be to get this worked up over just seeing you bathe. with one hand, you bid him closer.

“come, darling. you must be so hard, hm?”

jake feels as though he’s walking on clouds as he approaches the basin, standing at the side of it— humiliated at the realization that with you sitting down, the bulge in his pants is right at your eye level. he’s unable to look away from your gaze. he doesn’t want to— but he does try to shield his visual arousal with two hands over his crotch.

you tut disapprovingly, leaning relaxed into the tub like you have all the power and assurance in the world— and with jake, you do.

“don’t hide from me, puppy. show me.”

the term of endearment you often call him has a whole new effect in the situation jake finds himself in, letting out a little whine as he removes his hands to instead grip them behind his back. his lips pout and eyes shine, innocently round as you can tell he’s trying to win your forgiveness. but he’ll soon find out you aren’t mad in the slightest.

“aw, that looks so painful.”

jake nods his head, a now ploring look in his eyes that you have to resist smiling at in your cockiness.

“want me to help you, darling?”

“y— yes please, miss.”

your hand raises to cup his manhood, delighted to find he's more than a handful big. jake exhales shakily, body wracking in a sudden shiver before he apologizes for it under his breath. you’re so incredibly endeared by his shy sensitivity, wondering how a boy so sweet could have been touching himself to your naked body— thinking he was doing it in secret, just moments ago.

“naughty boy, jerking your cock when you thought i didn’t know.”

“i’m— i’m sorry, y/n. i— i thought—“

“that i wouldn’t find out? that’s even naughtier, puppy.”

jake moans longly at your sultry scolding, cheeks blushing at the sound he’s unfamiliar with making so passionately. and as he looks down, seeing his gorgeous lover palming his cock while her breasts are pressed enticingly against the inner walls of the tub— he finds himself babbling all his shameful thoughts.

“i’m so sorry, miss. you just— you looked so pretty. i just couldn’t control myself, couldn’t stop.”

you coo, continuing to move your hand over his covered shaft more firmly as he squirms.

“poor puppy. so helpless. but tell me this, jakey. if i hadn’t caught you, would you have kept touching yourself until you came?”

“m— miss!” jake exclaims, eyes squeezing shut as your hand only moves faster, his breath gaining speed along with it.

“oh, don’t act all scandalized. i know what a pervert you are now, jakey. tell me.”

“i— i—“ the boy struggles to speak, finding himself in this very moment close to coming.

but before anything can proceed further, another voice echoes into the night.

“what in god’s name is taking the both of you so long!”

jay busts through the door rather unceremoniously (unlike jake), but his eyes widen and he is suddenly silenced in a similar way.

he only stares for a moment, eyes flitting over your naked body— pausing at your exposed breasts and hip bone peeking above the water, before shielding your modesty with his own hands over his eyes.

“m— my lady, i’m so sor—“

“it’s okay, angel. you can look.”

jay’s body flinches, hesitant as though he cannot believe his ears. after a few seconds more, he finally slowly lowers his hands.

“…dearest?” he asks, question incomplete, but you’re sure you know what he’s wondering.

“jakey here was being a pervert and watching me bathe.” you tell honestly, your hand removing from jake’s cock to his utter dismay, feeling his climax slip through his fingers. (or rather, yours.)

“bastard.” jay mutters under his breath, but jake catches it as the open land causes the noise to echo, snapping his head to scoff at jay offendedly.

“don’t act so righteous. you would have done the same.”

“i quite literally just proved i wouldn’t!” jay defends himself, and before an argument can break out between the two, you’re raising yourself from the tub.

“m…miss? where are you going?”

you take languid steps towards the door, purposely swinging your hips to each side just enough to make the boys drool while at the same time trying not to seem like you’re meaning to tempt them. it works, because when you peer over your shoulder they’re not looking at your face.

“to my bedchamber, where i expect you both to follow me.”

the boys pause for only a moment, giving each other a wide eyed look before hurrying to catch up with you.

jay grabs your hanging clothing before you can, folding them neatly over his bent arm. you smile at his sweetness, slowly moving to cup his jaw and give him a kiss. jake watches it all with bated breath, how your naked breasts push up against jay’s suit as you whisper a ‘good boy’ in his flushed ear. jealousy and longing starts to simmer in his stomach, but the flutter of his own arousal is enough to sedate him.

the two men stay silent as they feel an eternity drags on while following closely behind you down the winding hallways, their eyes trained on your ass and the alluring way it sways when you move. the shadows and moonlight sticking to the contours of your spine make you look like a sort of enchanted being— which is humorous when you consider it’s really them who are the magical creatures. and you have them trailing behind you as though on a leash, listening to their enchantress’s every whim.

when you reach your bedroom jay hurries to open the door for you, and jake curses at himself for missing another opportunity of praise.

the three of you enter in, you bidding jay to set your clothes down over a chair before asking them to sit on the edge of your bed.

they both do so hesitantly, as though they still can’t believe what’s happening. here you stand completely naked, and yet they look like the utterly vulnerable ones. jay and jake both have their hands folded in their laps obediently, the bulges in their pants evident as they look up to you with adorably round and shining eyes.

you acknowledge the tenderness of the moment with a gentle hand to both of their thighs. if this continues, it will be your first time to bed together.

“do you both…want this?”

“yes.” the boys answer together.

they immediately become embarrassed, not only by speaking in unison but also by their obvious eagerness, glancing at each other before avoiding eye contact completely.

you giggle, raising your hands to ruin your fingers through each of their scalp’s affectionately. jake sighs out in what practically sounds like relief, jay having a ghost of a smile as his eyes fall shut.

your hand starts to creep down jay’s chest, the path you're taking to his cock evidently clear to the man as he stops you with a gentle yet urgent grasp around your wrist.

“i— my lady…we…”

“what is it, angel?” you ask, brows pinching slightly in concern as jay looks down at your touching hands, rather than your face.

jake clears his throat nervously, cheeks a bright red when your gaze falls to his.

“we haven’t ever…laid with a woman before.”

your disbelief is apparent, eyes widening and mouth opening just slightly as you gawk at the two absolutely stunning men in front of you. how on earth could they have ever kept their chastity? they must have had plenty of women throwing themselves at them.

“we were virgins when we turned, and after that we just…” jay begins, jake finishing for him yet again.

“we were always on the run, terrified of the monsters we had become. we spent years together practically running away from our own cursed existence, just trying to keep away from humans completely in fear that we’d hurt someone.”

“after a few years we realized we could manage control of ourselves pretty well. every adult in our lives or book we read as humans talked of vampires as bloodthirsty killers, so it’s what we had assumed.”

your heart sinks, having to will your eyes not to water hearing them describe such a sad existence up until now.

“you’re— you’re not.” you insisted breathily, making sure to look firmly into both of the boys eyes. “you’re wonderful, unlike any men i’ve ever met— unlike anyone at all really.”

they smile, eyes twinkling, and it touches a part so deeply in your heart that you’re sure hasn’t ever been reached before. and yet they manage to do so easily— without even meaning to.

“anyway…” jay begins softly. “losing our virginity was the last thing on our minds.”

“speak for yourself.” jake mutters with a little sass. “i for one am tired of how well i’ve gotten to know my own fist.”

you laugh abruptly, keeping eye contact with jake as your hand continues its track to cup over jay’s manhood, causing his thighs to twitch a little farther open and an almost undetectable sound to come from his throat.

“well, i’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little longer.” you smirk, slowly lowering to your knees between jay’s legs— the raven’s eyes watching in absolute rapt attention at your gorgeous form kneeling in front of him.

“what? miss—“

“you had your turn when you got a private little peep show. now go sit on that chair and watch, hm?”

jake’s eyes roam, from your groping hand motions over jay’s cock to the way the man throws his head back in ecstasy at just the minor stimulation alone. biting his lip so hard you wonder if it might bleed, jake takes a few steps over to sit at the chair that’s placed at the perfect spot to get a full view of your ass as you’re looking over jay’s lap.

“good boy.” you whisper to him, jake whimpering at the praise— the way you don’t even look at him when you say it somehow rilling him up even more. “if you keep acting good i’ll give you a special treat, puppy.”

“ok, miss. s— so, i can touch myself?”

“yes.” you answer, and then bring your full attention to jay.

his eyes are squeezed shut as the simple action of your palm over his cock brings him to absolute bliss. the bulge in his pants is…generous. your mouth waters to have it in your mouth, but you want to play with him a bit more.

“feels good, angel?”

“yes— yes, y/n. your hands are heavenly.”

you bite down on your smirk, jay opening his eyes and shuddering at the expression on your face that makes his skin burn even hotter.

“well, it will feel even better when my hands are actually on your cock. can i take off your pants, darling?”

he nods eagerly, eyes almost sparkling amidst the black of them in excitement.

you begin to unbutton his pants, glancing up at him again and speaking soft and sweet, trying to take extra care because it’s his first time— but also in efforts to return the gentleness he always treats you with. “could you help me by taking off your upper garments?”

he nods again, rushing all too much to unfasten his black and charcoal gray suit vest, fingers clumsy and unsuccessful in their haste.

you coo, stopping your original task to clasp both your hands around one of his, sitting up a little straighter so you’re drawn closer to his face.

“there’s no need to rush my dark angel, we have all night.”

“yes…sorry, my lady.” jay whispers, appearing flustered as he stares down.

you nudge his nose with yours to get him to look at you again, smiling at him affectionately when he does.

“it’s alright, gorgeous. just let me take the time to make you feel good.”

he sucks the bottom of his lip in his mouth with the ghost of a nod, trying but failing to not glance down at your own pretty mouth.

you grant him his unspoken wish, pressing your lips to his, eventually falling into a slow and sensual dance with every kiss. your fingers make good work at his vest, pulling away from him when you unfasten the last button. you return back to your original task of removing his pants, jay obediently lifting his hips as you pull them off, his hardened length springing free. the mushroom tip is a soft red, average length with a prominent vein running up the shaft that makes you want to run your tongue along its path.

jay’s hesitant groan is what makes your eyes flick up to his, only to be distracted by his chest that is now completely bare. he’s strong…unsurprisingly, defined arms and a torso hardened by muscle making your heart beat faster.

“you’re staring…” jay almost whines, voice textured as it wavers from embarrassment.

“sorry.” you murmur, almost breathless yourself as you sit back on your feet, lowering your mouth nearer to his cock. “can’t help it.”

the touch of your tongue against his shaft is gentle, and yet jay makes a choked moan as you lick up his vein. your hand grasps around the base of it to keep it still as you begin kissing and flicking your tongue at his leaky tip, looking up into his eyes while doing so.

“f— fucking hell.” jay curses, losing more control as his pleasure begins to become more apparent in his voice, breathing out through his nose deeply.

you then swallow down all of his length into your wet, hot mouth, feeling him twitch against your tongue as he abruptly moans loudly.

you hear a high pitched whimper behind you that has you feeling cheeky, arching your back for the boy behind you as you bob your head on jay’s cock once.

“sh— shit.” jake shudders at the dirty yet gorgeous sight of your feminine hips and behind, not quite being able to see but knowing you have another man’s cock in your mouth. his hand tugs at his own with more speed than his previous languid groping, not wanting to release too soon as he has a feeling he’ll be waiting for a while. and oddly, he’s okay with that. the sight and sounds of you sucking off another man— his best friend no less— is more arousing than he could have ever expected.

“never had someone taste you before, angel?” you rhetorically ask, but jay’s shaking his head cutely anyway.

“n— no. feels…hah…your mouth feels so good on my c— cock.”

you continue bobbing your head, careful to not go too soft, but at a rhythm that’s not so slow that he feels you’re being too mean. you want this to last, which means you need to keep him from busting too soon. jay’s hands move to brush your hair behind your ears, away from your face. you feel your heart flutter from his affectionate consideration. even when he’s so aroused, he doesn’t forget about you.

you reward him by fondling his balls and swallowing around him tightly, the man’s hips bucking from the sensations, causing you to gag as his hands remove from your hair and hover before you— as though he wants to touch your body, needing something to anchor himself to, but is hesitant without your explicit permission.

“f— fuck, i’m sorry, my lady. didn’t— didn’t mean to, can’t control it.”

you hum around him as a way to say it’s okay. your hands wrap deliberately around his wrists, bringing his open palms to your breasts. his eyes are almost innocent in the way they widen at the first brush of your hardened nipples against his hands, hesitant yet eager in how he finally begins to fondle them in his hold.

“oh shit…”

the feeling of your plump breasts being squished between his kneading hands becomes an immediate addiction to jay. and judging by the shaken little exhale you breathe against his pelvis, it’s making you feel good too. which only makes jay feel even more pleasured, knowing that his hands are making your body feel good, the man groaning lowly as he gropes at your tits with more confidence.

jake lets out a particularly loud, needy whimper that reminds jay that he’s still in the room, looking over to the younger.

his entire cock is drenched in pre cum, the tip literally drooling in little strings that land on his thighs or the chair below. his entire body is stripped, jake having taken off his clothes sometime when neither of you were paying attention. his hips thrust into his hand desperately, stomach quivering and muscles taught by the intense sensations that wrack over his body.

jay would laugh at him if he weren’t breathing so heavily from your hands and mouth, but he does manage to tease jake a little further by pinching one of your nipples, causing you to moan out prettily as your thighs spread open a little more, your own cunt becoming needy to be touched.

when jake notices jay’s cocky yet blissed out smirk, he’s unable to even glare at him, his climax rapidly approaching.

“y/n, p— please can i cum?”

“not yet, pup.” you order to his dismay, the boy whining childishly, making you clench at the pretty sound.

“l— lovely?”

“hm?” you hum around jay, making eye contact with the man who’s cheeks are ruddy and lips bitten red. he looks absolutely ravished, and you’ve only had him in your mouth.

“can you go faster, please? wan’ want to come now.”

“yes, darling. fill my mouth, hm?”

right after you speak, you attach your lips around his cock again and don’t hold anything back— for the first time tonight.

a bead of your spit drips down his length as the raunchy sounds of your mouth bouncing up and down his cock, piercing your throat fills the room. jay cannot hold back his wanton moans, or help the way his hips hump along with the fast pace you’ve set. his hands move from your tits to cup your face,

fingers trembling against your skin.

“oh, oh dearest— i’m cumming, i’m cumming!”

his seed erupts from his tip and fills your mouth as you do your best to swallow it all down, jay’s girthy cock pumping against your lips as his juices just keep coming, his powerful orgasm lasting long.

he’s trembling when you finally pull off, yet his hands grab at your body frantically, pulling you up until his lips meet yours in a passionate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth. jay sucks on your tongue, the dirty taste of his cum staining it somehow only arousing him further as he sighs blissfully.

when the kiss is finally broken jays eyes are drooped sleepily, and you help him scoot up on your bed and lay him down.

“just rest here, my dark angel. i’m gonna take care of jakey now.” you whisper after kissing his cheek tenderly. jay only nods, humming out dreamily as you rise from the bed.

“miss, please.” jake begs as he watches you get down on your knees before him now, his eyes teary and hand still roughly fisting his cock, stopping just below the head every now and then to fend off his climax.

he watches the cruel smile that stretches your enchanting lips as you see what a mess he’s made of himself— just from watching the two of you.

“my, jakey. you really are such a dirty little puppy.” you wonder aloud before pushing off his hand to replace it with your own, jake moaning long and drawn out just from the simple touch— feeling as though he’s about to fall apart after practically having to edge himself this entire time.

you break the string of his precum connecting to his trembling thighs when you encase him in your mouth, not bothering going slow with him— as you know no matter what you do he'll be cumming down your throat quickly.

jake’s whimpers are high pitched and cracked from his sore throat, panting between each pathetic sound as you move your mouth up and down his cock just like jay’s.

jake’s cock is a little longer than jay’s with less girth, making you think of how good the older’s could stretch you open, while jake’s could kiss your cervix with each thrust.

you moan around him as you find yourself unable to keep your hands off of your own neglected clit, rubbing your slick around and around it just enough to give you some relief.

“kiss— wanna kiss you!” jake begs, voice so broken and desperate that you hurry to give him what he cries for, sitting up on your knees and letting him lick and drool into your mouth while your hand still rapidly fucks his cock.

the kiss is sloppy and can hardly be called a kiss, but the sensuality of it riles you up all the same, jake’s stuttering hips rutting into your hands while his brows furrow, eyes squeezing shut and sobbing as you feel him squirt all over your fist, white stripes shooting out everywhere, some even landing on your stomach or the bottom swell of your tits.

his cock never softens, even when you’re sure his orgasm has finished, he doesn’t even ask you to stop— he simply cries and trembles, never once shying away from your hand.

“lets go to the bed, puppy. come, that’s a good boy.”

“good. good boy.” jake mutters cutely to himself as he hardly can stand up on his own, clinging to you in a hug immediately after you help him upright. you have to walk him backwards to the mattress as you have no intentions of making him separate from you, your seizing heart wouldn’t allow it. he’s so adorable and needy.

“yes, jakey. you’re such a good boy. lay down, sweetheart.”

“yes, miss.” he squeaks obediently, lying against the sheets as you straddle his hips and admire him from above.

his thick tufts of hair splay out beautifully around his head, a few tear tracks glistening on his pink little cheeks while big brown eyes gaze up at you like you’re the one who’s hung the stars above, lighting up the darkness.

“i love you…” jake confesses in a tender whisper, that somehow still hits you with such power you audibly gasp.

“i’m sorry, but i do love you so terribly much, my beautiful girl. i just couldn’t keep from saying it.”

“i love you too.” jay adds after turning on his side, grabbing your hand and pressing it to his lips. “so much it makes my heart ache.”

you’re silent, unable to find words as jay rubs his thumb over your knuckles, and jake’s hands move up and down your sides soothingly.

“we know it’s soon, y/n. you don’t have to say it back—“

“i love you!” you exclaim, much more loudly and ungraceful compared to their adoring words encased with tender tones. but you mean it all the same, and it hits them just as powerfully.

“i’m— i’m in love with you both.”

jay is unable to keep himself from sitting up and hurriedly kissing your lips, hand grasping the nape of your neck while your mouths wetly smack together.

jay confesses his affections once more, uttered against your panting lips, before pulling away and letting you lower your body down against jake, wrapping him up in just as passionate of a kiss.

“my love, p— please put me inside. need to feel your warmth around me.”

“yes, puppy.” you grant, voice airy as you’re still catching your breath.

when your hand takes hold of his still hard and throbbing length, jake winces at the mix of slight pain— which only heightens his pleasure as he finds himself enjoying the overstimulation. when the tip breaches your sopping entrance jake’s entire body shivers, and you don’t even bother hiding the cocky smirk that lifts your lips, the boy whining in response as his cheeks blush so prettily.

choked little grunts and moans come from jake as you slowly slide down to the hilt, releasing a sigh of your own as you get used to the feeling of his long cock inside your cunt.

“fuck, s— so warm, n’tight.”

“are you alright, darling?” you check, brushing a delicate hand over his hot cheek.

his damp eyes look up to yours, staring at you as his brain needs more time to process your words when he’s distracted by the overwhelmingly good yet unfamiliar feeling of his cock being encased in such soft warmth. then he’s frantically nodding his head, as pleads fall from his swollen lips.

“m’okay. please move, y/n. i’ll be a good boy, please?”

you wrap your arms around his neck and press a kiss to his lips before you start riding your hips up and down his shaft. jake’s reaction is immediate, eyes squeezing shut and pushing back into the pillows as his large hands squeeze into the comforting flesh of your hips. you find your cunt needy from all the messing around and lack of attention before this, feeling a fluttery pressure in your stomach build and build quickly with each time jake’s cock impales your womb.

jake feels a natural sort of instinct as his pleasure grows, his hands moving to press your waist against his stomach, tilting the angle differently before he plants his feet firmly into the mattress and starts fucking up into your pussy.

you cry out as you feel new colors burst behind your eyelids, falling forward and subsequently burying jake into your breasts.

the man only groans as he wonders if he’s died a second death and has somehow made it to heaven, his shining slick lips mouthing over your tits until they brush over your bud and he sucks it inside. what he and jay lack in experience they more than make up for it with their passion and love for you. you’re not sure if only a small twinkle of moments have passed, or if it’s been an otherworldly eternity. all you know is that as jake flicks his eager, desperate tongue over your nipple, and one of his hands move to rub little patterns against your clit, you feel your climax quickly approaching.

“oh— good boy. good boy, jakey. k— keep doing that.”

“can i come inside of your pussy, miss? i— i—“

“yes!” you cry out desperately as your legs start to tremble, thanking every god out there that you studied so many vampiric literature, or you wouldn’t have known vampires can’t procreate.

“inside! inside me, p— please, puppy!”

“y— yes, miss.” jake whimpers sweetly, rutting into you deeper as he hugs your body against his. “puppy’s gonna give it to you, gonna fill your cunt up with my cum. sh— shit!”

the second you feel his warmth filling you, you’re seeing stars, reaching your high along with jake as he pants and kisses sloppily at your neck.

you collapse into his chest, your rib cages rising and falling in sync as you catch your breath.

you hear a swallowed moan, and turn your head to see jay’s eyes squeezed shut, jerking off his own cock furiously.

“don’t you dare waste that, jay.”

“w— what, my lady?” he flinches, hand immediately stopping its frantic movements as his eyes widen from being caught.

“i want you inside me too, love. come,” you beckon him, legs still laying open as you're laid against jake.

“b— but, if you’re tired—“

“nonsense. please come fuck me before i ride you myself.”

jay thickly swallows, evidently not expecting this outcome.

he moves somewhat unsurely, positioning himself behind you between the entanglement of your and jake’s legs. you lift yourself up on your knees, presenting yourself so lewdly to the man as a furious red burns up his neck. you giggle at him, jay looking away from your pussy that has jake’s cum leaking out of it to see that you’re peering at him over your shoulder— the image becoming a new core memory for jay, one he’s sure he’ll never forget in his eternal lifetime as his thoughts tell him you’re the perfect picture of pure beauty and raw sensualism.

jay slowly pushes into your wet heat, more of jake’s cum gushing out as his girthy shaft stretches you deliciously, a drawn moan escaping your lips.

“there you go, angel. fuck my cunt. y’fill me up so good.”

jay shudders at your praise, hips stuttering at the foreign pleasure as he finds his rhythm.

he doesn’t want this to end, but he knows he can’t last long inside your wet heat as you feel him twitch uncontrollably inside you— noticing how his eyes squeeze shut while his hands squeeze handfuls of your hips— holding himself back.

“let go, darling. pussy’s too good not to fill it, right?”

jay cums with groan at your words, rutting into you with reckless abandon— his sudden roughness causing your eyes to roll back as you reach release once more.

even as you both come down, neither man seems able to catch their breath— even as satisfied exhaustion weighs down their eyelids.

jay falls against your chest while jake cuddles into your sides wordlessly, and it’s not long until their breathing descends into a slow and deep pattern, feeling their chests sink and rise rhythmically against you.

you’re a little drained, but you clearly don’t feel as exhausted as the boys who just gave up their chastity to you. as you lay in their hold, you bask in the moonlight that pours out the window and think of how strongly you feel an emotional bond to these men— almost magical like in its force. you feel a calm, deep happiness, as though all the strings attaching you to your problems have been cut. and yet…

you can’t help but heed to that small voice in your head, which is hissing in urgency at you to get up— that now’s the perfect time to put your plan in action.

and you know that you must listen. even if it stings your heart a bit when you slowly rise from the bed and jake’s lips pout and jay’s brows furrow in their sleep. even when that strange force you’re probably just imagining in your mind aches for you to return. you simply try your best to ignore it, gathering your clothing, only putting enough layers to be somewhat presentable if you are caught— universe forbid.

as you’re making your quiet descent out of the cathedral, you grab what you’re fairly certain is jay’s cloak draped over his bedroom door knob. it’s black as night, perfect for what you’ll need it for— and you veil it over yourself quickly.

the heavy door is loud as you push it open, a low, haunting creek almost making you feel as though it’s warning you to turn back.

but you tell yourself you must as you step out into the dark and shut the door behind you, knowing this could be your only opportunity.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

WHO IS THE DEVIL;

the soft glow of dawn is like a bright, orange trim sewn into the horizon.

you don’t dally, hurrying to push open the cathedral’s large heavy doors once more.

the ridiculously long stairs are no match for you now as you hurry towards your bedchamber— hoping to find the boys still fast asleep in your sheets. despite your rush, you try to calm your heavy breathing from all that running you did through the woods and up the stairs, before twisting the door knob carefully.

what you find is an empty room, your heart quickening yet again in alarm as you step deeper into the room, your lovers clearly not tangled into the covers as you left them— and neither are the drapes as they were before. they’re drawn tightly shut, a candle near your bedside the only light.

“where the hell where you?” a quiet tone with sharp edges speaks behind you, causing you to jump and turn to see the two men standing behind you.

your initial gasp turns to a sigh of relief, your hand pressing to your chest.

“goodness, jay. you scared me. why must you both always sneak up behind me like that?”

your voice turns somewhat playful at the end, as you lightly giggle, the smile on your lips quickly falling when you see the expression on their faces.

jay’s jaw is tensed and his brows are tilted in anger, hardened eyes reminding you of the day you met— but the vulnerability is very obvious to spot for you now. he looks…hurt— you realize with a rapidly sinking stomach.

and jake’s eyes almost appear like he’d been crying.

“what…what happened?”

“what happened?” jay scoffs credulously, taking a step closer as he gestures to your form with the wave of his hands. “what happened to you, did you go outside? you’re wearing my cloak!”

“i—…i’m sorry, my love.”

jake’s face suddenly crumples as he looks down, akin to a wilted flower that’s finally falling apart.

your own eyes widen in alarm, beginning to walk closer to him to take him in your arms— if it weren’t for jay’s gentle yet commanding hand on your stomach, or how jake backs away into the corner, shoulders hunched as his arms wrap around himself in a hug.

“you left.” he croaks, and you feel somewhat confused as to how strong his reaction is to that fact— not expecting this emotional of a moment when you returned home— until he says his next words.

“you slept with us— with me, and— and told me you loved me, n’ then you leave?”

that sting you felt in your heart when you first left them now feels like someone’s crushing it in their hand, and it only gets worse as jake starts letting out little sniffles and hushed cries. your shocked face looks up to jay, who’s also avoiding your gaze as he turns his head from you.

“jake, jay— you didn’t…you didn't think i had abandoned you both, did you?”

a sniff, clearing of his throat, and then jay meets your eye contact, his angry resolve cracking ever so slightly with each second he has to look at you.

“we didn’t know what to think. we still don’t, y/n…”

without needing any more prompting, you hurry and plunge your hand into the deep pocket of jay’s cloak, soon fishing out the items as they jingle slightly when you pull them out, letting them hang from your outstretched hold.

“…a pendant?” jay utters, thoroughly confused.

jake rubs his eyes to look at the glittering silver in your hand, brown orbs irritated and glossy.

“they’re enchanted. you will be able to walk in the daytime when you wear them.”

neither of them speak, but jay’s sadness poorly hidden by anger has seemed to have left, though he still appears to be slow at processing the information you tell him as he comes closer and takes one of the necklaces from your hand. the pendent is too rounded to be heart-like in shape— but it’s close. a burnt orange crystal carved into a point hangs right beside the larger silver piece.

“what is this?” he asks softly, pointing to the charm.

“tigers eye.” you answer simply, hesitant in your movements as you silently ask for the necklace back with an open hand. jay gives it to you and you stand on your tiptoes to clasp the jewelry around his neck. you bite down the small grin that wants to curve your lips when jay bends his knees to help your height difference.

once you’re done, the man looks down at the way it rests against his chest, taking it into his hand again as the metal feels cool in his palm.

“you really couldn’t have just told us, love?”

“would you have let me?” you answer his question with another, and you know what jay’s response would be as he doesn’t even say anything back. instead, he sighs— trying to convert frustration despite how he moves to wrap you up in his arms, the both of you melting into the hug.

“the timing was horrid.”

“yes. i see that now.” you mean it apologetically, but jay chuckles at your words, putting a smile on your own face.

jake sniffling once again has the man releasing his hold on you, looking back at his friend before giving you encouraging eyes to go comfort the poor boy.

your steps are slow, like you're approaching a wounded animal.

“jakey?” you softly coo, the boy looking up at you with eyes that were starting to dry— now rapidly filling back up with crystal tears. the next thing you know he’s running into your chest, wrapping his arms around your waist as he cries against you.

“didn’t— didn’t intend to accuse you, b— but, i was so scared you weren’t coming back.”

“i’m so sorry, darling. i’d never leave either of you. i love you.”

your hand pets over his thick locks, jake reacting by fisting the fabric of your dress even tighter in his hold and nuzzling his nose against your neck— yet he still is restless. jay walks to stand behind you and removes the cloak from your shoulders, throwing it onto the bed.

“jay?”

“be still, love. i think this should help him.”

jay’s delicate fingers slip beneath the trim of your blouse, pulling it down until it’s past both of your shoulders. the bites you received last night are now exposed, along with a peek of your breasts. jake nuzzles into them with a puppy-ish whimper, but jay cups the back of his neck from behind you, pulling his head up until jake spots the bruised flesh he marked last night. with a small moan that has you pulsing in surprise, jake presses an opened mouth kiss over the bite, licking and sucking at your skin without actually sinking his teeth in. jay moves to do the same, leaning over your other shoulder and peppering his mark with more controlled pecks before he swipes his tongue over it as well.

you’re unable to contain an aroused shudder, especially when jay’s hand twists around your body to grope lewdly at your tits.

after a few torturously teasing minutes, jake seems to come back to his own mind, kissing up your neck, around your jaw, and finally to your lips— before pulling away.

“thank you.” he sighs, giving jay a meaningful eye as well when the older pulls away from your shoulder, forcing his hands away from your breasts.

you only give a breathless smile, taking the second necklace that’s been clenched between your now sweaty palm and clasping it around his neck as well.

“you need to keep them hidden. don’t let anyone see them, lest they grow suspicious.”

you receive easy agreeances as they slip the pendants under their clothes. jay moves to stand in front of you by jake’s side, while you cover your mouth as a long yawn forces its way out.

“tired, miss?” jake smiles fondly, eyes now having their usual happy twinkle as the boys have a little more energy than you, thanks to their nap and not traipsing through the woods as you did.

“yes. we need to change our sleep schedules now that you two won’t burn in the sun.”

“you’re right, my lady. but for now lay down. me and jake will likely be awake for a few more hours before we have the urge to sleep. we’ll wake you when it’s lunch time.” jay assures, helping you to the bed with a gentle hand.

“y/n?” jake begins, just after the older presses a kiss to your forehead and picks up his cloak, about to slip out. “where did..you get the necklaces?”

“uh, i…just don’t fret over it, puppy. we’re safer now because of it, yes?”

“r— right.” jake responds gently, jay following him as they bid you a good sleep once more before shutting the door.

the sounds of their footsteps echo down the hall, feeling strange as the sunrise gracing the sky filters through the windows, not having walked in the face of the sun in almost a century— and yet all they can think of is you.

“where…where do you think—“

“she’s a witch, jake.” jay insists with a fearful yet powerful tone that has goosebumps rising on jake’s flesh. “what other explanation is there?”

“but you— you don’t know that.”

“do you know the materials witches use for magic?” jay asks with a snappy tone, turning on his heel to look his best friend in the eyes.

“e— elements, rituals…um—“

“herbs.”

jay shoves the cloak into jake’s hands before impatiently lifting them up to jake’s nose.

“smell that?”

the brunet takes a sniff, the scent wafting off the material terribly blatant now that it’s been pointed out to him.

“basel and…cinnamon?”

“whatever it is, i don’t care. this was already scary when i thought we had to prove a human innocent— then we fell in love with her and it got even worse. and now we have to find a way to prove to these crazy villagers that y/n isn’t a witch when she truly is?”

jake hears the panic in jay’s voice that quickly becomes cracked, pulling away the man’s hands that harshly press into his temples to wrap him in a tight hug.

“i’m scared too, okay?” jake confesses, whispering softly as jay squeezes him back. “we just…we can’t let anything happen to her.”

“what if we turned her?” jay asks darkly intense, trembling.

“…we don’t have her permission to do that and it’s way too soon to ask— despite how badly i’d like to…besides, it wouldn’t keep her safe. if they hung her and she didn’t die then they’d know what she is and would drive a stake through her heart.”

jay lets out a trembled exhale, his head still aching as the visual of your limp body hung by the neck, head leaning unnaturally to the side as crimson blood drips from the cavity in your chest and down your clothes haunts his mind. jay tries his best to disperse the image, squeezing his eyes shut before blinking them open a few times.

“we can’t let that happen.”

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

the day has finally come.

it’s been a month and a half since you first walked into the old cathedral and it will be the first time in years that jake and jay will be walking out of it, unsure of when they will return.

you leave at night, not wanting anyone to spot you when you appear like such strange travelers— having no luggage. it takes you about an hour and a half to reach town when walking so leisurely, which was at jay’s suggestion— the man fretting that it’s dark and if any of you were to trip and fall it could quickly become a detrimental situation.

your steps are now hurried and anxious as you walk through town, urging the boys to follow closely as you’re dying to get farther away from the heart of town and quickly to your father’s farm.

the next few minutes are spent with your hearts beating out of your chest, the boys looking over their shoulder for your sake— and you in worry for theirs. you avoid lampposts, duck past opened windows, and try to keep your footsteps as silent as possible— all while praying there’s no one staking it out for the night, waiting to catch you.

“boys,” you whisper excitedly, pointing to the dark silhouette of your old house. the three of you hurry up the hill, confident enough to run as you're a few miles away from the main square of town, surrounded by rolling fields of corn and grass. when you reach the front door your heart is still beating out of your chest— but this time it’s by happiness, overjoyed in anticipation to see your father again. pushing open the door so hard it almost falls off its hinges, the boys follow you into your abode much more calmly, yet breathing out a sigh of relief for successfully reaching the refuge. loving smiles grace their lips as they watch you eagerly looking around the house for your father.

“y/n?” that familiar voice calls. it’s not as smooth from the years he’s lived, but it speaks with just as much tenderness as when you were a child— likely because no matter how many days pass, he’ll always see you as his little girl.

“father!” you cry, the tears immediately bubbling up in both of your eyes as you practically fall into each other's arms, the hood of the cloak you wear slipping down with the momentum. his frame is much frailer than when you last saw him, which you note with a heavy heart.

“i thought you to be dead! they— they said they couldn’t find you, but there were rumors of a body found— eaten by a bear.”

“no, no, father. i’m fine! i’m completely all right.” you spoke between sobs, wiping at your tears to gaze at his face. “you’re so thin…”

“i haven’t been able to eat or keep down hardly anything. i was looking for you. every day i’d scour the forest and then try again the next day.” he takes a gasp of air, choking on his words yet trying desperately to speak— as he has so much to say. “oh, my precious girl. thank god you’re alive.”

it takes a while for you to gather yourselves, but once your eyes are almost dried— your father finally takes notice of the two men standing silently in the room.

“who are these gentlemen?”

“oh! father,” you begin, wiping your cheeks while underlying excitement is tangible in your tone. you walk over to your two lovers, holding both of their hands.

looking at jay’s facial expression is like looking through a window, clearly a bundle of nerves to meet the love of his life’s father. jake’s also worried— but only you and jay would know it. his hand is shaking in your hold, and although his smile is just as wide and beautiful as always, his eyes show a tinge of fright.

“these are the men that saved me.” you explain vaguely, a line all three of you settled on to say.

your father was old, but he wasn’t old fashioned. you have no doubt he’d be just as overjoyed to hear you have two lovers just the same as if you only had one. but jake and jay had their reservations, and just for the sake of not springing too much upon them— you planned to wait and tell your father of your relationship later into the future.

“this is jay and jake,” you gesture, both young men holding out their hands for your father to shake. but instead he steps forward and pulls them both in a hug, one that has jay and jake almost blanching from the powerful emotions he portrays with it— the thankfulness and love of a parent. something they haven’t felt in a long time.

“i’m eternally grateful to you. thank you for keeping my girl safe.”

“of course.” jake answers for the both of them, a sweet smile on his face despite his slightly breathless voice.

eventually the conversation leads to the plan, how you’ll sleep in the hay barn’s loft (for safety, to not hide in such an obvious spot as your home— but also because it’s too small to contain 4 people anyway) and wake tomorrow to get proof of your whereabouts.

“i only have one to spare, but you’ll want to take a quilt with you. i’m sure you all know after your journey that it’s cold out there.”

“yes, father. i’ll fetch them.” you say cheerily, disappearing into another room, leaving the two boys with him.

there’s a moment of awkward silence, and just when jake is going to start rambling about something to break it— your father speaks up.

“though i’m sure neither of you will mind having to share one blanket with y/n, hm?”

jay and jake’s eyes grow wide as your father smirks with playfulness, enjoying their embarrassment.

“sir, what…what do you know?” jay asks after an uncomfortable clearing of his throat.

“i know that you are in love with my daughter.” he states, the young men speechless at your father’s wisdom and how he so blatantly calls them out. jay desperately prays that what you said about your father being a hopeless romantic is true, and jake is mentally preparing to get punched and barated by your father.

instead, he does neither of those things— he only huffs good naturedly at the boys for thinking they were so good at hiding their affections for you, when he could tell the moment your eyes met with theirs.

“oh, come now. it’s quite obvious in the way you look at her. surely you see that in each other, yes?”

jay and jake glance at the other before nodding shyly. your father chuckles. “well, you have my blessing. just promise to keep her happy and safe for me, alright?”

“yes, sir.” both men respond without hesitation— because that’s all they want for you as well. they want you to be happy and safe with them.

before anyone can say anything else— you’re entering the room again, a folded up quilt in hand and ready to lead them to the barn and have a good night’s rest.

when morning comes you all wake surprisingly comfortably. you’ve come to find that sleeping on a huge pile of uncontained hay really isn’t that bad. jay and jake insist on feeding from you before walking around in public, and you assume it’s just for extra strength— but in reality it’s because both boys are concerned about being recognized as vampires for their pale skin— and drinking your blood helps bring some color to their cheeks.

“so, which of your clients do you think is trustworthy enough that they won’t go screaming about in the streets the second they see you’re back in town?” jay asks plainly, his nerves reaching great heights as you watch him pace about the dirty barn floor, while you’re tucking your hair into the hood of your cloak.

“i still don’t think you should go, my love. it’s very risky.” jake frets, biting his lip so harshly you worry it may burst.

“boys!” you firmly call, halting the fiddling of your clothes to look both of them in the eyes with a stern stare.

“no matter what we do it’ll be risky…” you say with a much gentler tone, trying to calm them as best as you can. “do you think i’m not scared also? if i let you two go out there alone you’ll have no idea who to look for or where you’re going. further more, if people see two strangers going around town asking others about me, they’ll most likely take you for a prisoner as well.”

jay growls out a sigh, his pacing beginning again as jake nibbles on his bottom lip even more.

you hurry to take hold of jay’s hand and stop him, cupping jake’s face to free his lip from between his teeth at the same time.

“don’t worry. i know what we’ll do. there’s an old woman that lives close to here with her grandson, jungwon. they’re old family friends, we can trust them. jungwon just so happened to have helped me all throughout the week before i was accused, on account of i had so much work to do and he offered. if he’ll agree to testify on my behalf— which i think he will, then hopefully that will be enough for the townsfolk to believe me.”

“and if not?” jake asks, eyes soft as they stare at you in a way that makes you feel sad. you choose your next words carefully.

“…we can only pray jungwon’s courage to speak up will inspire others to do so as well.”

….silence.

jay and jake eyes can only look at you, as if the rest of the world has all vanished— and it might as well, because the thing they care about the most in all of their miserable existence is right here before them. their chests ache. all they desire to do is go lay back down and spend the rest of eternity with you, in your own little bubble of reality you’ve been overindulging in up until now.

but they know that’s not what you want, and it’s not fair to you. honestly, they owe themselves more also. jake and jay spent almost a century of their undead life running away, not giving themselves a chance to have anything worth fighting for— but now that they have you, they do.

and so they are done running away.

“alright.” jay agrees, looking to his best friend who nods his head determinedly.

“let’s go.”

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

jungwon is crouched over tending to his grandmother’s garden and collecting all that he can before the approaching winter kills everything in its wake. the cool autumn breeze soothes the thin sheen of sweat that sticks to his nape when suddenly the young boy spots movement at the edge of his vision.

“hello?” he shouts, his voice echoing across the distance between him and the strangers. it appears to be two men, and one cloaked form.

jungwon heaves an annoyed sigh, supposing it is the council again, coming around to check over various households for another poor soul they’ve decided to demonize.

“gran! they’re here again!” jungwon opens up the front door to call out before shutting it behind him. he doesn’t speak, only standing and waiting until the three strangers are right before him. “can i help you?” he asks with a tone that’s trying to appear polite, but his thin thread of patience is clearly about to snap.

“jungwon…” you whisper with a playful smile— the only part of your face that isn’t hidden by your hood. the youngest’s eyes grow wide as they flick from jake and jay to you. he’d recognize your voice from anywhere, and suddenly he can see that it’s not a stranger underneath that cloak— but a longtime friend.

“y/n!”

he almost pushes your two lovers out of the way by knocking them with his wide shoulders, jungwon not even aware of it as he throws his arms around you in a hug, lifting you off the ground and causing you to burst into joyous laughter as he spins you around.

“what are you doing here?” he asks with a wide smile, eyes catty with mirth as he stares at you— like he can’t believe you’re really back.

“i came for you, actually.”

before you can explain anything more, jungwon’s grandmother is opening the front door, a grin that shines with love greeting all of you as she urges the four of you to enter the house.

“i’ll do it.” jungwon says with fiery determination after all the introductions and explaining is over. “of course i’ll do this for you, y/n. when you left…i thought i might never see you again. but now that you’re back— i can’t bear the thought of you having to leave again, or worse.”

you smile, and it’s a little tight with the last implication jungwon is hardly able to even utter— but right at that moment a cup billowing with steam is sat before you, his grandmother quick to serve the rest of the men also.

“what is this?” jake asks, but the answer is made clear when the steam reaches his nose, the fresh, icy scent almost making him feel more energized.

the elderly woman answers anyway after plucking off a few extra leaves from a small plant that sits at the window sill, along with a row of other potted herbs. she sprinkles the leaves into jungwon’s cup, knowing he likes his a little stronger.

“mint tea with a little ginger. it should give you a bit of a boost. i always drink it when the weather starts to turn cold.”

the woman turns an inquisitive eye towards jake and jay, forehead wrinkling as she looks them over from head to toe.

“although, it seems that you two aren’t very affected by the cold weather.”

the two men stiffen as you remain clueless to the little exchange, none of you considering that their usual attire of a vest and suit with no other coat could implement to their lack of needing warmth— considering their vampirism makes them ‘cold blooded’. jake keeps his wide eyes on the woman, while jay glances at you and jungwon, oblivious as you’re wrapped into a conversation with one another.

jay feels a wave of something he can’t identify prickle across his skin, feeling the air change between the three of you— and whatever it is, it’s not good. the old woman’s lips morph into a kind smile across her face, yet jake feels strangely sick with some sort of anxiety as it all of a sudden hits him. you’re all in an old woman’s house— in the middle of farmlands, with practically no one else around. there’s a garden outside and herbs lined all along the window sill. and now…now is she sensing that they’re vampires as well?

perhaps he and jay were wrong in their theory of you being a witch— maybe the person who gave you those enchanted necklaces…was right in front of them.

but that doesn’t inherently make the old woman evil— so what is this dread that lays so heavily in jake’s stomach?

looking over to jay, the older shares a look with him that says he feels it as well.

“ma’am…wh—“

before jay can finish his sentence, there’s an aggressive pounding at the door, a loud shout following quickly after.

“it’s the terminer! open up!”

instinctively, you all get up and huddle in a corner of the room, trying to make sure you’re out of view from the windows. jay’s breathing picks up as his hand tightly grasps your arm, pushing you farther behind him than you already are as jake pulls you into his arms and jungwon shields his grandmother with his body— already worrying of her getting seriously injured if a ruckus were to break out. no one says anything for a moment, jay tilting his neck out as little as he could to get a glimpse out the window in front of you.

“there’s multiple men out there—“

“the town council.” jungwon practically hisses, and jay has a brief thought of wondering how awful some of the people in this town must be to make hatred burn in the young boy’s eyes— before it sounds like someone kicks at the locked door.

“open up or we’ll enter by force!”

“hurry, hurry!” jungwon harshly whispers, pulling your hood back over your head and pushing you toward a tall cabinet that’s recessed into the wall— appearing big enough to fit you in. jake hurries along to help while jay braces to fight, the sound of thunderous kicking now becoming resounding through the small cottage.

jungwon opens the cabinet and a plethora of dry goods and jars of food go tumbling onto the floor. jake desperately tries to pick everything up quickly, shoving it into another cabinet as jungwon helps you step in and squeeze beside a dusty broom. your limbs are cramped, still unable to push yourself deep enough into the small, cluttered space before a rock is thrown through the window, breaking it and sending shards of glass across the floor.

jay moves to protect jungwon’s grandmother from the glittering rain of sharp pieces as jungwon and jake uselessly try to help you hide— yet it makes no difference in the end.

as someone throws a coat over the jagged edges of the now broken window to jump inside— the door busts down. angry men pour through and flood the small space, easily spotting jake and jungwon’s trembling hands still trying to maneuver your body.

one man— the terminer, moves towards you as you feel like your stomach has been filled with sand. jay yells out and the sound is so scary and desperate in his fear, and as your round eyes move to look at your love— you regret it.

jay only leaves the old woman’s side to protect you— but he’s not even close to reaching you before three men gang around him, twisting his arm back behind him with unrestrained force and tangible malice. jay groans as his eyes shut in pain, still trying to fight the men off before they push him into the wall. and then you can no longer see jay, the backs of the men shielding him from your eyes as you can also not see whatever their hands are doing to him.

then you hear a thud, the floor shaking. and that’s when the men start kicking who you can only assume is jay on the ground.

“stop! stop!” you cry just as jake’s hand grabs at the terminer’s arm, readying to fight as well— while jungwon still stands in front of you. you push him away with a heavy heart, fully exposing yourself to all of them.

“i’ll go with you, don’t hurt them. i’ll go.”

you feel bile rise in your throat with how cruelly the terminer smiles at you, quick to pull chains out from his bulky coat and shackle them to your obediently raised wrists.

jake is unable to abide by your wishes, screaming out your name as you hear the sound of movement— and then struggle. there’s a wail of pain that sounds too much like jake— and then a guttural shout from jay.

your crying at this point as panic strikes you, trying to turn your head and be able to see past the broad bodies of the two men who are leading you out of the house. but before you even can look you’re roughly jostled in their hold on you, pushing you forward with a jolt that causes you to gasp and almost trip over your own feet.

“keep moving forward, witch.” the terminer growls, spit flying from his clenched teeth to land in your cheek. your eyes squeeze shut at the action, tilting your head away from his face.

then there’s a fainter cry, another dull thud— and jungwon’s watery voice that cracks from behind you.

“no— stop! don’t touch her!”

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

by the time you’re led to the bridge that overlooks a deep, dried out river way— which is nothing but a long drop to jagged rocks and death— the small population of your town has formed a huge crowd as they follow you— either after spotting or hearing the ruckus as you, jay, jake, and jungwon were pulled along throughout the streets.

you dread to think of where jungwon’s grandmother is, or what’s become of her— and as though you’ve summoned your father just as you think of him— you hear him shout as he pushes his way to the front of the crowd.

“no! wait— let my daughter go! she’s not guilty!”

you’re brought to the middle of the bridge as the rest of the onlookers are guarded by men with torches and sharply spiked spears, warning them to stay back. you almost stumble to the ground when you’re shoved in front of the town’s priest, who must have already been called for the occasion as he stands with an evil air and proudness in his eyes— like you’re the vermin he’s finally caught, and your death will be his trophy of victory.

a heavy noose is swung over your neck, almost making you fall backward as you have to use more strength to lean forward and stay upright. the pressure against your neck is more than uncomfortable— it’s haunting. as though it’s been waiting for you as it grips around your jugular tightly. you do your best to stifle your tears, painting your face with a calm sort of hostility towards the priest.

you refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing your fear.

“you’ve been found guilty of evading the law and witchcraft— consulting with the devil, of which is punishable by death. repent now and confess your sins.”

your eyes widen, expecting to at least be given a trial and be judged by the council like the others were before being thrown over the bridge and have your neck snapped by the unforgiving rope. but it seems as though your month long evasion has only cemented everyone’s desire to take your life.

“no, she isn’t! she isn’t guilty!” jay— jake, you’re not even sure you can bear to decipher who’s broken voice that is who cries out for you as you keep your eyes forward, only staring with hatred at the same old priest who killed your mother— somehow even that is easier than looking at your loved ones.

maybe you’re a coward.

“i saw her! i— i was with her when she was accused! i know she’s not a witch, just listen to me!” jungwon shouts, trying to get the attention of the people— but it falls on deaf ears that only seem to crave the death of innocent lives.

perhaps you are cursed— but not by being cohorts with the devil. on the contrary, it seems he is against you.

“go on, child. confess.” the priest prompts, the minute and sinister curve to his wrinkled lips.

you take a shaking breath, liquid filling your eyes no matter how hard you try to resist— even as they turn slender with bitterness.

“one of us will in fact burn in hell, reverend.” you bite, voice trembling and low with emotion as you hear the sobs of your lovers— but there’s an underlying power with which you say your next words. “but where you’re wrong is it won’t be me. when you die you’ll wake to fire melting the flesh from your bones, and the red eyes of lucifer himself will be the only face that greets you into eternal damnation.”

that pompous smile is wiped right off the man’s face, and you could almost be satisfied from the flicker of fear in his eyes after he hears your words— if it weren’t for jake and jay’s begging voices yelling out to you again.

“please, y/n, just look at us!”

“will you really refuse us one last glimpse of your face before you die!”

you’re unable to contain your sobs then— and despite that it’s not the emotion you want to show them in your last moments, you lift your head and gaze at them through the tears.

you feel an almost unbearable amount of pain straining your heart, and you wonder if you’ll manage to die from a broken heart before the noose squeezes around your throat. jay’s wounded eye is swollen and bloodied from being beaten and kicked— and his lip is in the same shape. jake’s clothes are torn, a small yet deep break in the skin by the tail of his brow. but the worse thing is by far their tears; how their legs are too weak from devistation to even hold themselves up as the men keep them upright by the rough hold on their arms. how cruel they are— making sure your lovers have a clear view to watch your body be flung over the bridge.

you the crack of your neck won’t echo down the dry river’s trench— for their sake…

“do it.” the priest urges with unbridled rage at your words, and the terminer’s quick to roughly tug you to the bridge’s edge.

suddenly there’s a piercing scream— a stark contrast to the viciously delighted chants of the townspeople.

everyone looks over as a hole is made amongst the crowd, everyone stepping away from one form.

as bodies move, you’re finally able to recognize the person as your father, who’s stood with his eyes closed, hands in front of him and palms up— while you watch his lips move, seeming to be chanting under his breath.

his voice starts to slowly grow in volume— as so does your dread, unknown tongues spilling from his mouth.

there’s a choked sound— and you look just in time to see the priest’s neck crack to the side, the broken edge of his bone poking up against his skin as his eyes open and pupils tremble— like he’s fighting for them not to roll to the back of his head. yet they still do, after a few blood vessels pop and the whites of his eyes are filled with red. the image is burned into your memory as his limp body falls lifelessly off the bridge.

there’s a splat— quickly followed by the gasps of the crowd as you’re grateful that you can’t see how his body is surely busted open and bloody across jagged rocks.

“father, stop!” you cry— but it’s useless.

everyone knows he’s the witch now after witnessing the horrors you know he didn’t want to commit.

but in his mind— he has to stop this.

he did nothing when they killed your mother in favor of raising you, fearing you might wouldn’t survive— at least not happily— if both of your parents were dead and you were left orphaned. but now this is the best choice. he can’t let you or anyone else die. even if it means he will.

“it’s him! it’s him! hang him before he kills us all!” someone yells out amongst the crowd.

everyone is now in a panic, women and children are crying. some run away to evade the impending doom they think your father will reign upon them. a few council members let go of jake and jay in favor of capturing your father, and he does nothing to fight them off as he silences his chants, knowing he’s now too weakened to force all of them off. there’s literally a small army of men ready to fight, and he desires no other blood to be shed. he can only hope this is enough to turn anymore accusations away from you and save your life.

“no, no, please! i beg you!” you scream as someone takes the noose off of your neck and onto his.

your vision turns blurry and strange after that— and so does your hearing, like your ears have been filled with water. all you can hear is muffled screams— you think some of them might be your own. you must be trying to walk forward, but your trembling legs are too weak as you fall to your knees. all you’re able to focus on is your father’s eyes, strained with sadness as he tries his best to hide it from you— giving you one last, quivering smile.

they throw him over the bridge.

the snap of his neck does echo, and the rope cracks from the momentous swing of his limp body.

ㅤㅤ──────────────────────

EMBERS IN THE ASH;

the mansion is filled with finely dressed people, all having a good time— filling the space with conversation and laughter.

jay and jake are on either one of your sides, the younger’s hand on your waist while the older holds your hand.

there’s the ring of someone dinging their glass, everyone’s head including yours looking up to the town’s mayor as he stands at the upper level balcony, overlooking the whole party.

“if i may have your attention.” the man politely begins, voice bouncing off the marble floors with an echo. “as you all know, this is no ordinary celebration. while this fall festival is to enjoy the festivities and spend time with loved ones, it’s also to remember the lives that were lost to the horrific ‘witch trails’ four years ago.”

the mayor raises his glass of champagne, and the rest of you follow. “a toast, to our family and friends— even strangers, who have passed on.”

you, jay, and jake take a sip of the pale liquid in your sparkling glasses. the taste is bittersweet, and so are your feelings.

your father’s death was tragic— even now, you still wake in the middle of the night screaming from nightmares that force you to watch him die in an endless loop. but his selfless sacrifice wasn’t in vain. after the mass witness of what true witchcraft can really do, and the absence of the priest— who was rotting the anxious minds of the people— things changed for the better. your goodhearted mayor was elected, and hope was reinstalled into all of you. the problem was lack of funds to make the town a better place— and that’s where jake and jay came in. as humans they were born into a wealthy family, and in their undead life that money only grew over the years. the mayor had a strong belief that he’d find good fortune in mining, and jay and jake were happy to invest in the plan— knowing that it could be healing for you and jungwon to have your hometown— that’s filled with fond memories and tragic endings alike, be changed into a better place.

well, the investment struck gold— literally.

the town’s buildings were reconstructed and the influx of wealth attracted businesses and many new opportunities to arise. a clinic was even opened, where jungwon is currently apprenticing to become a doctor.

unfortunately, the day of your father’s death was also his grandmother’s. when the mob came for you, one of the men cruelly pushed her down, and the fall was just too much for her worn body to take. she was clearly in great pain, lying on the floor— but she urged jungwon to go after you.

and when he returned to the cottage— she had already passed on, left on the dirty floor with a hand over her weak heart.

her death and the guilt practically tormented jungwon— it nearly drove him mad. the only person that was able to get through to him was jay, and the two became extremely close in the process. soon the very thing that made jungwon want to end it all fueled his determination. he couldn’t save his grandmother, but how many lives have been lost that could have easily been prevented or aided, even by the simple knowledge of basic first aid or prevention?

jungwon is happy now, sated by his fulfilling work that is never done. it consumes most of his time, but it’s also what brought that sparkle back in his eyes— life. he no longer has the empty stare of a dead man, and for that— none of you can complain for how busy he is.

this brings you back to the present— standing in the huge mansion that you now call home. jay and jake made the arrangements to build it months ago, and it was finally done. so not only is this a fall festival, but it’s also a housewarming of sorts.

“now, for anyone that would like to participate in the corn maze, please make your way outside!”

you flash the boys an excited smile before turning your back to them in favor of following the crowd out the door, but jake stops you with a hand to your forearm.

“we’re— we’re hungry, miss.” he says shyly, yet the way he looks at you with those gleaming, wanting eyes tells you he’s not as bashful as he’s trying to portray.

neither of them should need more blood, you’d just let them feed from you this morning, and the subtle blush on jake’s cheeks give away that they have plenty of blood in their system for him to even be able to have such a reaction. not only that— but jake called you ‘miss’, a title that now after being so far into your relationship he only uses when he’s needy.

your eyes crease in suspicion, gaze moving to look at jay standing right behind jake’s shoulder. he blanches— very minutely, before his head tilts downwards in favor of inspecting the floor beneath his feet.

you bite down a smirk, knowing exactly what game they’re wanting to play.

but you want to play a game of your own.

“later, darlings. i really want to go into the corn maze.”

tugging your arm out of his grip to descend out the front door, you swear you hear jake let out a complaining whine under his breath before both men hurry to follow you.

the air has a slight bite thanks to the chilly air, but the sun shines brightly and everyone is buzzing with excitement— making you feel almost electric.

you run to the entrance of the corn maze, both of your lovers fretting at you not to be so fast as they don’t want to lose you to the small crowd that came outside. you don’t respond to them in favor of looking at each pathway.

you could either go left, right, or straight.

your pause is long enough for jay to think you’re unable to decide as he begins to suggest his idea. “i think we should just constantly go right. eventually we—“

“tag!” you childishly declare, pushing your hand against jay’s chest, giving jake a glance as though to say ‘you too’, before bolting left.

“dearest, don’t fall!” jay calls, quickly running after you. jake mutters out a ‘seriously?’ under his breath, a fond smile on his face as he watches you giggle and look over your shoulder at jay, his best friend’s worry turning to playfulness as your energy fills him with it.

then the two of you turn a corner and jake finally breaks out of his admiring— hurrying to catch up with the both of you before he gets lost trying to find you.

you continue trying to escape their sight as you laugh, turning down different pathways as quickly as you can. dirt crunches beneath your boots and the rustle of crisp corn stalks and your lovers calls and laughter is all you can hear. you must be towards the edge of the maze or something— either way, you don’t think anyone else is nearby.

so with that reassurance and feeling cheeky knowing the boys are so needy, you halt your running and turn towards the direction jake and jay are coming from.

just before they round the corner and appear in front of you, you pull down the neckline of your dress, your chest popping out.

jay’s the first to reach you, stopping dead in his tracks and wide smile falling as he stares at you flashing him.

jake’s giggles aren’t far behind— the puppy practically running into jay’s back.

he’s mid complaint when he steps to the side and finally gets an eyeful of you, that flush rushing back to his cheeks again.

“y— y/n, what are you doing?”

you laugh, covering your modesty as quickly as you revealed it before turning on your heel to run off again— except a rock catches on your boot heel and sends you falling onto the dusty ground.

both men gasp behind you, horniness completely forgotten as they are both by your sides in a second to help you up and make sure you’re not hurt.

“i told you not to run, gorgeous. your dress is way too long for it.” jay gently scolds, cupping your face in his hands as he gives you a onceover.

“sorry, angel. i suppose i got carried away.” you breathlessly laugh, your smile aiding his worry— especially as you press a sweet peck to his cheek that has his eyes sparkling over cutely. jake is busy dusting off the skirt portion of your dress when his heightened sense of smell catches a whiff of something.

“…you’re bleeding, my love.”

“hm?” you hum, somewhat startled as you look down at your hands for cuts or a tear in your long sleeves.

you miss the way jake’s eyes dilate as he slowly hikes your skirts up— all the way to the bend of your thigh. it isn’t until you gasp at a wet sensation against your leg that you look away from your arms and down at the boy on his knees.

there’s a small cut on your inner thigh, yet it’s deep enough to have a long, thin trickle of blood dripping down from it— and jake is licking it up, tongue flattened as he slowly runs the warm appendage up your soft skin. your heart quickens, and you know jay notices it too, as well as smells the scent of your sweet blood. the raven haired wraps wanting arms around your waist, making the hardness in his pants known as it presses against your hip.

“pu— puppy…” you whisper, feeling yourself dampen between your legs as jake whimpers happily in response, kissing the blood trail up your thigh— dangerously close to your core.

once he gets to the actual cut he presses an opened mouth kiss to it, letting out a breathy moan when he sucks at it. at the same time, jay rocks his hips against you, just once— but you know he’s getting more and more worked up as he starts kissing at your neck.

jake’s fangs brush against your wound, jay’s simultaneously raking across the skin of your neck— and you hurry to pull yourself away from them, knowing if you don’t they’ll start feeding from you right where anyone can show up and see.

“we need— a room.” you pant, standing a foot away from them as your chest expands and falls quickly.

jay isn’t hesitant to tell the both of you to follow him, jake clumsily getting up from the ground as the older takes your hand to lead you.

his theory of turning one way the entire time worked— though you’re not sure if he was actually correct or just lucky. either way, jay and jake are on a mission to find somewhere private to ravish you as the older keeps a firm grip on your hand. taking you up the stairs and down a hallway, the sound of music and voices of the now dancing crowd fades away.

“how many bedchambers do we have anyway?” you ask curiously as you look around the fully furnished and decorated space.

jake and jay had given you a tour, but not of the entire mansion, only the bottom floor— the construction was only recently completed and so was purchasing and moving in all the furniture.

“who cares?” jay says impatiently, too pent up. jake speaks at the same time. “four.”

“damn...” you mumble under your breath, jake hurrying in front of you and jay to open a double door, large and white with intricate detailing carved into the wood.

“here it is, love. our room.” jake says softly, eyes shinning and sweet as he watches your reaction to the space closely.

you gasp as you take in how beautifully done it all is. the room is moody, mahogany wood with black tapestries and pops of red. a large, black wardrobe is painted with intricate vines and little flowers spiraling up the surface— and a canopy bed is placed right before you, black curtains draped beautifully.

“you…how did you both even do this? it’s gorgeous! i can’t even express how well done this is.”

“it was all jay.” jake tattles, smiling at the older— who’s already pink in the cheeks when you turn to him.

“you did this?” you ask in wonderment. jay’s hand squeezes yours tighter.

“well…i enjoy fashion, and it translates to room design also..i suppose.”

“oh, angel, i love you.” you sigh, wrapping your arms around kind his neck to kiss him, jay not resisting in the slightest as he smiles against your lips.

“hey! i helped with the bed!” jake whines, though you can hear his smile. the puppy’s hands fall to your waist, pressing up behind you as he nuzzles into your neck for attention.

“of course you did. all you care about is where we’ll lay, isn’t it?” you smirk after separating from the kiss, only to turn your head and give jake a fondly accusing look.

“i refute that accusation.” the brunet denies poorly, unable to keep his cheeky smile at bay.

“i second it.” jay replies dryly, only for his eyes to sparkle with mirth as you giggle against his chest.

“untrue! i have many opinions for the choice in paintings we should put on the wall.”

“and what opinions would that be, jakey?”

his eyes shift to a heated stare as he playfully bites his lip, gaze roaming over the skin and bones of your collar— exposed in your already low cut dress. (it’s rare that you can leave your neck on display given how often the men feed from you, but lately you’ve asked them to bite your wrists instead as you’ve found it’s a more convenient spot and doesn’t rile them up as much as other places on your body— especially since you’re usually wearing long sleeves to shield from the increasingly chilly weather.)

“your flawless face, hung up in every room.” he declares, beginning to press ticklish little kisses all over your neck and shoulder.

“hm, i have to admit that’s not a bad idea.” jay smirks, you weakly slapping him on the chest with a bashful smile and shake of the head.

“enough, that’s nonsense.”

jake abruptly sinks to his knees, hand slipping beneath your dress to lightly trail his fingers up your calf— and the grin is wiped right off your face as your eyes widen just barely.

“perhaps even,” jake murmurs hotly, his breath rising goosebumps on your flesh as he slowly collects your skirts in his other hand. you know his face must be close as you feel his nose brush against your thigh. “a painting of your bare skin; these beautiful thighs; your supple breasts.”

your breathing stutters as jake’s tongue teasingly swipes over your core, an airy chuckle made between your legs as the man doesn’t miss how your body starts to tremble.

“though i doubt even the most talented painter could capture how glistening and wet you become for us.”

“as if. i’m not letting any other man besides us look upon her naked body.” jay retorts— the buttons of your dress’s bodice being ripped off a second later when the man forcibly tears it open, pulling your chemise down and causing your breasts to bounce forth. his mouth immediately latches to your tit, sucking at your hardened nipple as his other hand tweeks the other.

at the same time, jake’s tongue gets bolder— moaning at the taste of your arousal.

“i— i thought you said you were hung— hungry.”

“come now, love. you know that’s not what we really wanted.” the brunet gently retorts, drawing a gasp from your lips as his fingers rubs up and down your slit. “your blood does taste sweet, i can still smell it. but there’s something else that i know tastes even sweeter.”

you moan when jake finally stops teasing and attaches his plump lips to your cunt, peeking his tongue out with each open mouth kiss he grants you with.

jay’s hands become firmer as he gropes your tits in both palms. his fangs accidentally brush against your sensitive skin— yet it causes you no pain, only pleasure as your eyes squeeze shut, hands needing something to hold onto as you cup his face in your hands. his shut eyes open to gaze up at you— dark eyes heavy lidded and so sexy as he continues to tenderly suck your bud between his pouty lips.

“oh, angel. you’re so pretty.” you murmur lovingly, at the same time spreading your unsteady legs further apart as jake starts to lose himself in your pussy.

to your dismay, jay pulls off your tits with a pop— but the disappointment doesn’t last long as he begins taking off your dress completely.

“jake, get out so i can get her out of this…jake!”

jay huffs when he gets no answer and the sounds of your dripping pussy squelching in jake’s incessant mouth doesn’t stop, a loud moan forced from you as jay reaches under your dress and pulls jake out from under your skirts by the collar— the suction of jake’s lips around your clit becoming even stronger when he was roughly pulled away from you.

neither man say a word to each other when jay lets go and jake almost falls on his back, the younger only catching his breath and wiping his glistening lips against his hand— and jay removing the layers of your clothing with quick movements.

when you’re stripped bare, you yelp as jay picks you up in his arms— descending into quiet giggles after as your legs wrap around his torso.

laying you in the center of the bed, both men are already kneeled between your spread legs— that you only stretch wider as you look at the two expectantly.

“well? you said you were hungry, so eat.”

both men nearly conk heads as they eagerly lower to get your pussy in their mouths, the following throaty groan and high pitched whine sending a wave of pleasure to your nerves. jay descends down to your pulsing entrance, flicking his tongue out and going a little deeper each time inside you, slowly stretching you out around him. jake suckles at your clit like the brainless little puppy he is, spit drooling out of his mouth to slick your already dripping folds.

“go—“ you swallow around the pleasured sounds that try to escape you, fingers tangling into jake’s hair in an attempt to keep him and you grounded. “go deeper, angel. use your fingers too. i want— i want to have both your cocks tonight.”

“fff— fuck. yes, my lady. whatever you desire.”

jake whimpers at your request, beginning to pathetically hump against the mattress, comforter bunching between his legs— before you pull at the tufts of his hair.

“no, puppy. be good.”

a whine, and then— “sorry, miss.”

as the process of jay stretching you out on his fingers and tongue continue, one finger— two, then four— paired with his wriggling appendage and jake’s ticklish whimpers against your swollen clit, you’re brought closer and closer to ecstasy.

“no— no more. i’m about to cum.” you pant.

but all jake hears is you’re about to cum, and greedily he pushes jay away from your cunt to finger your hole and lick hungrily at your pussy like a crazed animal. you can’t even scold him as you cry and whither against his ministrations, your release filling his mouth.

“bad puppy. so, so bad.” you half heartedly scold. you’re not even entirely certain the boy hears you when he pulls away from your pussy with dazed eyes, tongue almost hanging out of his mouth as your cum sticks to his lips in glossy strings.

“me first.” jay tells jake grumpily— the older using jake’s disobedient moment as a chance to get ahead and take all of his clothes off. he lays on his side next to you, looking at you for permission with begging eyes that have you going along with his every whim immediately.

“go ahead, angel. you can have me how you want me.” you grant, thumb rubbing up and down his temple.

jay presses a sweet kiss to your lips, whispering a thank you before grabbing your thigh and positioning it over his hip.

“this is hardly fair. i wanted to be facing her.” jake whines like a spoiled child, jay rolling his eyes in response.

“you’re the one who started it.”

“i—“

“stop fighting and fuck me!” you raise your voice, feeling edged by how you can feel jay’s hard length poking at your inner thigh, yet it’s not inside you yet.

they both give you an apologetic look before jake’s settling behind your back, pulling himself against you in a hug— while jay delicately glides his cock back and forth through your folds, making sure he’s slick enough for you.

“ready, my lady?”

at your wordless nod jay sinks his bulbous head past your hole, slowly pushing the rest of himself inside. jake repeats the action after ensuring you’re alright, and you moan in complete bliss at the feeling of being so full when jake and jay are both nestled to the hilt in your cunt.

“fuck, can feel your pussy cl— clenching.” jay strangles out, fingers squeezing into the side of your hip. jake sounds as though he’s already about to lose it, hot breath puffing against your shoulder as he nuzzles his face between your neck and shoulder, hands moving from your waist to hold your tits in his needy hands.

“so..good!” he whines, unable to wait for your permission to move as he starts fucking into you with small thrusts, getting used to the feeling of sharing your pussy with another cock.

“shit— jake!” jay grits as though he’s scolding him for his misbehavior— yet he also can’t help rocking his hips into you when his friend starts.

that gummy, sensitive spot is constantly hit as the men thrust into you at the opposite moment, making you feel deliriously good as you find yourself shaking— your previous orgasm not helping your dwindling control.

“fuck yes! good boys..oh my god! faster, fuck me faster!”

jay whimpers, high pitched and desperate as his hips start slapping against your skin, hiking your leg farther across him as his hand takes a handful of your thigh’s squishy flesh in a bruising grip. jake is crying worshiping words of your body and beauty as he pulls away from your neck to watch how your ass bounces with every pound of his cock, one hand leaving your breast to grab your cheek and spread it open.

“my love, you look so gorgeous with two cocks stuffed in your little cunt— sound so pretty too.”

“c— can we breed your pussy, dearest?” jay pants. “want our seed to fill up your hole and fuck it out of you.”

“yes, angel— puppy, give me your cum.”

hands are squeezing and grabbing all over your body as you lose track of who’s hands are who’s anymore, your eyes rolling to the back of your head when jay and jake’s cocks pump ribbon after ribbon of white into your wanting cunt. their warm fluid fills you to the brim until you feel it gushing out as they continue to fuck you, filthy noises of their dripping wet, pulsing cocks continuing to absolutely ruin your hole.

you reach your release with a loud cry, throat cracking as your arousal drenches jay’s groin and drips down between the three of you.

your body continues to shake even after it’s over, none of you moving from the sensitivity (or perhaps it’s simply that none of you want to). jay presses comforting pecks up your sternum, even as he’s catching his own breath— and jake is sat up on his elbow, even though he’s weak from pleasure— to brush your hair out of your face and comb his fingers through your scalp.

“you look like a dream…” the brunet whispers reverently.

“i feel like i’m in one.” you whisper back with a breathless laugh.

your dark angel slowly pulls out of you, causing all of you to grimace before he’s calming you with two kisses to your cheek. “then let's pray you never wake.”

the next pass of time is spent with more kisses pressed between loving words said with tender tones and passionate eyes that are so warm— so warm with love that you find yourself sniffling as jake is buttoning the last clasp of your dress shut— all of you fully cleaned and clothed now.

“love, what’s wrong?”

“i’m— i’m perfectly fine. perfect.” you whisper, wiping your teary eyes as jay cups your face in concern, both men staring at you. “i’m just so happy. i love you both so much, you’re my everything.”

they fall quiet— which is unusual for the two who always answer your professions of love with eager promises of their own. jake gives jay a look, and the older grins with a fond sigh.

“fine. i suppose now is a perfect moment to.”

“…what?” you utter as you watch jake walk to the large wardrobe you admired earlier, opening it and pulling something out that he keeps hidden in his palms as he returns to stand before you again.

“it’s not the most traditional or legal proposal of sorts, but our whole relationship is rather unique— so i’d say it’s fitting.” jay says, his eyes utterly entranced by yours as the tears finally begin to spill as jake uncovers the crimson little box in his hands, slowly opening it to reveal a glittering ring.

words don’t grace your tongue— but it’s not necessary as jake speaks first.

“you’ve bewitched us, y/n. body and soul. a million passes of the moon couldn’t even satisfy our all consuming desire to be with you always.”

“and we wanted to ask you,” jay smiles, a twinkling of tears in his own eyes. “if you would like to spend an eternity with us. to give us a chance at making you endlessly happy, and being truly ours.”

your heart pounds, your hands tremble— these two men stand before you with centuries worth of love to give you, and your only two bites away from it.

nothing has ever felt so right before as you say yes, yes, yes!

and as jay holds your hand and jake slips the ring onto your finger, all you can think of is how your love will last even more than forever.

PLEASE REBLOG/COMMENT IF YOU ENJOYED

NOTE: congrats, you made it to the end! ily for that. consensual kisses for you 😙💕

kinda upset i didn’t get to post this during october 🙄 but it’s still autumn! sooooo hopefully you don’t mind. i tried to address all of the plot that i made up but i couldn’t always find a spot to talk about it that seemed right. so if you have questions, ask away!

this fic had my google and youtube history so out of wack. like ‘what was soap like around the 1700’s’ and ‘how did peasants bathe’. 💀 (they used animal fat as soap btw. it was gelatinous & not like a bar of soap at all…i decided to leave that detail out.)

279 notes · View notes

cuntdevil · 2 days ago

Text

★ TINY LITTLE FIRES.

for two firemen whose jobs are to help civilians, they've managed to spark flames inside you that you wish not to extinguish.

( fic demographics. ) jujutsu kaisen, toji fushiguro & sukuna ryomen, sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs : do not interact & 2519 words !

╰┈➤ firefighter!toji fushiguro & sukuna ryomen & afab!reader (she/her), throatfucking, fingering, dirty talk mostly on sukuna's behalf, double penetration, anal & vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

( author's note. ) i thought of this specific prn link when writing this and thought it was tojikuna fucking reader. just a liddol visual while you read 😋

It was overwhelming, the heat of two men looming over you— how they were both so hauntingly handsome as their eyes explored your body. They caged you in with their bodies, tiny little fires sparking inside of the pit of your stomach as they held interest on you all night. Shoko wanted to hold a small celebration dinner after completing her residency, finally becoming an actual doctor. She held it at a small bar and grill, where the food was greasy and the drinks were strong. You hadn’t thought your night wouldn’t be one so special, just have a few drinks and enjoy the time with your friends. However, from afar, two men had their eyes on you the majority of the night. Crimson and hazel following your form in a way that had you constantly looking behind you, eyes never failing to meet theirs.

You weren’t the only one to take notice of their domineering stares, Shoko watching over your shoulder before saying, “You should go talk to them.”

Eyes widening as your head quickly turns to her. Immediately, you shook your head. “I’m here to celebrate you.”

“You’re here to have fun,” she corrects. “Plus, you need it— them. When was the last time you had a spontaneous hook-up, much less a threesome?”

She was right. You rarely spend your leisure time actually doing any leisure, always finding something to keep you busy or something that came around the corner last minute that you completely forgot about. Your social life went down the drain outside of her, Geto and Gojo. But even the time you spend with them is too short. However, you don’t want to be a bad friend.

“But,” you pout. “Who’s going to drop you home if you get too wasted?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” Shoko says. “I’ll probably have one of the waitresses do it if it comes to that.”

“I don’t feel—”

“I don’t care how you feel,” Shoko frowns, nudging you from your chair. “Go to them right now, or I’ll disown you as a friend.”

You’re not sure if you’re thankful for Shoko, or if you want to curse her. You feel like a mouse trapped inside of a lion’s den. Outside of the conversation with Shoko, you can’t recall how you even ended up in this situation, just knowing that you walked up to the bar, signaling for a bartender in their close vicinity. You let them watch you, slowly creeping closer towards them.

Other than their impressive physique that had other men gawking at them in jealousy, they were different. One had dark hair that went over his forehead, black strands that nearly prickled his hazel green eyes. He had a scar on the left corner of his lip that had you curious how it ended up there in the first place. The other man has messy pink hair and piercing red eyes as he scrutinizes you, tattoos travel down his neck that you’re not sure where they travel to because of the hoodie he has on.

You only remember through short conversation that they were firefighters, but other than that, they were very straightforward with what they wanted from you. And from the many men that have tried approaching you before, you could respect it. You respected it so much that you let them bring you to their shared apartment, their hands roaming your body the moment you were inside.

Your dress hiked up over your waist as the pink-headed man— Sukuna— has found comfort in your breasts, massaging and kneading the fat as the brunette in front of you plays with the hem of your panties, finding fun in teasing you as your head falls to the chest of the tattooed man behind you. Wedged between them, there’s no room for escape as they pull out soft moans from you. Your braids tickle Sukuna’s skin as he watches you fall apart so easily. “We’ve got you this worked up and we’ve barely done a thing to you. It’s kinda pathetic… and cute.”

Just as he says this, Toji’s fingers dip inside of your panties, running to run two fingers down your clit and in between your folds. It has your chest rising and falling in the anticipation of it all, so needy and desperate to be filled by these two large men. “You should feel how wet she is. It’s like she hasn’t been fucked in forever.”

It’s an epiphany upon both men, a deep hum reverberating off of Sukuna’s chest as one hand leaves from under your dress. Black painted fingernails that reach to grab your face harshly and forcing you to turn, your eyes meeting his daunting red ones. “You poor thing,” he breathes. “Your pussy needs to be well taken care of then, huh?”

“Yeah.” You can’t help but nod. “Yeah, it does.”

“It’s a good thing you got us, huh?” To which you nod again, whispering out a “yes.”

They lead you to the confined space of one of their bedrooms. You still have your back to Sukuna, sitting on his lap as he pulls the dress over your head. Breasts spilling out and leaving you nearly bare in front of them, the only thing left on you are your flimsy pair of panties with a hearty stain right in the center from your arousal. You can feel the hard erection of Sukuna right against your ass. Oh, how he feels so big and thick underneath you that it has your pussy clenching in a desire for something— someone— to be inside of you.

Sukuna’s hand snakes in between your legs, the gloss of the black shining underneath the dim lighting as he shifts your panties to the side. Your folds glisten and shine, resembling the gloss of a porcelain doll. He spreads your lust over your clit as Toji begins to undo his pants, a sliver of his dark happy trail peaking out as his shirt rises. He’s in a haste, dragging down his pants and underwear, revealing his lengthy cock. Dark and heavy shaft that weighs him down surely as it hits his inner thigh instead of standing up prominently. He surely rivals the few partners you’ve had down the road. It’s intimidating, but your cunt is a curious thing, not caring if it’s the same thing that killed the cat. From its nine lives, you’re sure you can be brought back to life over and over.

Tiny little fires ignited in the pit of your stomach, you’re sure that these men are the only ones able to extinguish them. Toji holds the hose, his length in hand as the tip drips in his precum, sauntering over to you with it in hand. Your head moves involuntarily, moving yourself to the edge of Sukuna’s lap.

“Look at her,” Sukuna moves a stray braid, pulling it back behind your air. “So eager…”

Toji adores it, reaching to cup your face as you lean closer to him. His cock so dangerously close to your begging mouth that's lolled open and ready. His tip kisses your bottom lip, smearing his pre against it and making your lips shine in the coat of lust-born gloss. Sukuna’s fingers still dance around your clit, teasing at your entrance as he plays with your folds. You moan and mewl, keeping eye contact with Toji while you squirm in the other man’s lap in need.

“Please…” It comes out in a soft breath, whiny as your voice jumps up a few pitches. With two fingers against your chin, Toji makes you meet his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give ya what you need,” he says before making the head of his cock enter your mouth. It takes your breath away, making you literally speechless as you’re only left to moan and mewl. Your muffled voice goes ignored as a dragged out groan leaves the brunette's lips as he curses. “Yeah, that’s so much better.”

Shallow thrusts in your mouth, it’s a filthy sight to envision as you’re held tightly by Sukuna. Finally does he end his torture against your pussy, the two fingers that swirled around your fat clit now pushing inside of your needy hole. Subconsciously do you clench, making it hard for him to enter before he’s slapping at the sensitive nub, making a squeal spark from your lips as the vibrations run straight through Toji’s cock.

“Fuck,” he curses, pushing more of his length inside of your poor little mouth, forcing you to open wider to further accommodate him. Sukuna bites at the shell of your ear simultaneously, stretching out your cunt with two of his thick fingers. Your whines of pain are muffled by the cock in your mouth, your legs tensing around the hand in between them as your cheeks hollow around Toji. A deep inhale you take before you momentarily stop breathing altogether, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat and causing you to gag.

The choked out cough is only music to their ears as Sukuna bucks his hips upwards in you, fucking your hole with his fingers and Toji stilling inside of you as you struggle to breathe. Tears prickle the corner of your eyes, face pushed into his happy trail. Tangled in this web that you willingly trapped yourself in, it’s starting to frighten you as you feel yourself drowning in the water of their hoses. You cry from the overwhelming sensation, how it feels so good to be used like this, the wet sounds of your pussy being fucked and abused by Sukuna’s fingers and the mess that Toji makes of your face, your makeup being smeared as tears run down and your lip gloss dissipating with each and every thrust of his cock inside you.

It’s painful how Toji’s hand pulls at your hair, holding it as leverage as he drills his length inside of your mouth. Your mouth being used as a fleshlight for him to obliterate, he’s a selfish man as he can only think of his release. And it’s the sheer amusement of you that spurs on Sukuna, how your pussy salivates around his fingers as they stretch out your tight hole. Your honeyed slick painting the two digits as you clench around him. You continue to rock your hips against him, having him hold restraint as it goes straight to his cock. His free hand wrapped around the expanse of your waist as he batters your cunt until you’re feeling that call deep within. Your eyes squinting shut as you mewl out pathetically before the two men as Sukuna alerts Toji, “She’s gonna cum.”

“Well, she better hold it,” he says, speaking to you as if you weren’t there. As if you’re not the girl with his cock in your mouth. However, you obey, trying to keep it together as Sukuna’s unrelenting, his drilling inside of your pussy only getting worse in an effort to make you fall apart all too soon. Your legs spasm as you can’t hold it any longer, capturing Sukuna’s hand as you cream around his fingers. Fortunately, he doesn’t pry your legs open, only chuckling deviously to himself when your lower body finally relaxes.

Toji chases his high inside of your mouth, leaving you to gag and choke around his length as he fucks it until he feels himself twitching. “Make sure to swallow all of me. Don’t waste a single drop,” he says before grunting. He spills himself inside of you, forcing you to swallow as he cums deep. You squint your eyes shut as he pushes his hips deeper before finally retracting and his cock falling to his thigh. Your throat’s dry, the absence leaving you gasping for air as you whine out, head hitting Sukuna’s chest.

You’re made a pretty mess on his lap, your orgasm staining his pants as his fingers finally exit your cunt. He brings the coated digits to his lips, sucking them clean as a deep hum vibrates off his chest. “This starved pussy tastes so good. I think we might want to keep you after this.”

Sukuna pulls you both further on the bed, shedding his pants along the journey as you feel his length in between the crevice of your ass. Toji has your legs pressed against your chest, both holes out and vulnerable for their taking. You can feel Sukuna’s fingers inside your asshole, stretching you with the same two digits that were previously in your pussy while Toji’s got his cock aligned at your entrance. Your heart pangs heavily against your chest, trying to make a get away, but you swallow the anticipation away as you peet at Toji above you. However, it’s Sukuna that you feel first, his girthy length piercing through you as if it was creating a new hole inside of you as you cry out in pain.

“Breathe,” Toji has to remind you, feeling how tense you’ve become as Sukuna has stretched out your poor asshole. With all the prep he’s done, nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. Finally does your body relax when you feel Toji’s length glide against your folds before his tip kisses at your entrance. Both sheathing themselves completely in you, this moment feels like the most gentle they’ve ever been in you, waiting for you to calm down before you’ve given them the okay.

You’re the sweetest and most salacious thing they’ve ever devoured, cocks plunging inside of your holes greedily as they both thrust inside of you. The heat of their bodies leave you so dizzy as you can’t focus on a thing around you, and certainly not on a word either of them have said.

“Taking our cocks so greedily,” Toji pants into your ear. “You’re a selfish little thing.”

“But the best one we’ve had yet,” Sukuna rebuttals, thinking of the countless times someone’s had to back down in the past. They thought you were close to it, how in your eyes there were moments of second guessing and terror written all over you. But you pretty little thing, you’ve braved it through, stuffed to the brink by two enormous men.

Tiny little fires inside of you that they only make bloom even further, creating a wildfire in their paths as they beat and batter both of your holes. They stretch your out deliciously, having you ignore the ache that you feel course through your body as you gnaw on your bottom lip. No amount of water would extinguish the desire that’s now embedded deep within you, their seed spilling inside of you as you cream uncontrollably.

Bed sheets stained as the pungent smell of sex infiltrates the air as the room grows hot and stuffy, caught within the flames of shared lust. When they’re done with you, cum drips from your cunt and gaping ass as you fall on your face. When you finally head back home, you find both of their numbers saved inside of your phone and a message from Toji:

Sukuna’s right. I wouldn’t mind keeping you.

And you wouldn’t mind being kept.

( author's note. ) here's my hand at trying to write more plotless porn. :p

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zyafics-recs · 1 day ago

Text

reblogging comment review from @zyafics

guess who has to be studying for another exam but instead she needs to catch up on this fic? (this girl) little annotations below ⬇️

Or the next. You couldn’t. Every time you picked up one of the stupid boxes, your heart would drop to the pits of hell and your hands would start sweating. You’d shove it back in the drawer like it could disappear if you just ignored it hard enough.

manifest it girlypop

What if it was positive? Then what? The thought of seeing his name pop up on your phone after you blocked him, or worse, hearing her voice if she picked up...you’d rather die. He didn't deserve to know.

i eat up any scenes where she wants nothing to do with him and he barges into her life and finds out all the things he's been missing out? the angst of not being able to go backward in time no matter how much you regret it

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

i would burst out in tears

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five.

i was like why r we bringing up topper's bitch ass here and then i realized it to put in a frame of reference that she couldn't possibly know topper's birth bc he moved to kildare later. i just thought reader needed to put in a quick jab about topper 😭

You weren’t exactly the picture of health. What if you weren’t strong enough? What if something went wrong, and you ended up in a hospital bed, alone, because Rafe sure as fuck wouldn’t be there. It was just you.

i love the spiral of madness. i'm reading (and analyzing) it and i'm so so amazed by how ur structure descends. it flows so smoothly - from one topic to the next - all at a great pace and with a lot of internal turmoil. it builds up to me feeling everything reader feels.

It hit you just how ironic this was. You were sitting here, freaking out about being possibly pregnant, scrolling through nightmare stories about abortion and pregnancy complications, while Lily was talking about a fundraiser for children’s health. Kids. It felt like some twisted repulsive joke the universe was playing on you.

ugh, i love the parallels between her being (potentially) pregnant and the idea that she has to wrap her life around this foundation for children.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

i love her i feel like she inches closer to insanity every day and i, too, feel the same

If Rafe wanted to play games, you’d ruin his life if you had to. He thought he could fuck you over, leave you with all this—leave you with nothing? No. You weren’t going to let him have that power.

like i said

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room.

BABES 😭 YOU'RE CARRYING HIS CHILD oh this is too good, the idea that she wants to erase him from her life and leave no space for him (mind), but her body is accommodating spacefor his child, making her reserve a permanent space for him in her life

Every year. He’d sit with you while you struggled through every word, telling you it was okay to take your time, reminding you that you didn’t have to do it if you didn’t want to. And when the gala came, he was always by your side, standing just off stage, waiting for you after the speech was done. You’d run into his arms, and he’d whisper that you 'did great baby', holding you until the room stopped spinning so much.

i fear i would crash out if i am currently stressed with the idea of being pregnant and remembering my ex bf and remembering my lost parents

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.You were going to do this without him.

my boss baby!!!

There was a sigh on the other end, the sound of him trying to not to lose his patentience, like he was the one in the right here. Typical Topper. Always wanting to smooth things over, play peacemaker between you and Rafe, like this was just another fight you’d get over.

topper, in the words of reader, a bitching BACKSTABBER

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

ugh i love ur dialogues sosososo much

You were having a meltdown, and he’d stepped in, like he always did when you went off the rails. That was the problem with him—he cared, even when you didn’t want him to. He was family, the only family you had left, and he was too loyal for his own good.

so fuck his parents then ig

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala?

apparently me

There it was.

💌 — aaaaaaaaaa, i'm so glad i waited until after my exam to read this and truly experience the gift of ur writing. i love the juxtaposition and parallels in this scene! especially with her deleting rafe from the gala's list, erasing space from him in her life, but having his child grow inside of her. i love love how she has to have a gala for children—and crippling over the current dilemma of whether she has a child herself. and i love that she's very isolated in a sense, because it amplifies how this child can truly make or break her. topper was so enjoyable—especially their conversation. u always write dialogues so smoothly!! honestly, i thought this scene would end with rafe showing up unannounced at the gala, haha but ig we'll see in next chapter

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - TWO

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mentions of possible pregnancy, of abortion, of pregnancy risks & death. self-loathing. chapter one

You lied.

You didn’t take the tests the next day.

Once you knew, you knew.

There was no more pretending as if nothing happened.

No more pretending like you didn't care that Rafe moved on like he didn’t just dump you, with no real closure and ran to the next girl he found.

Fuck, why did he have to look so happy that night? He got to be carefree, living his perfect little life with her, and you were there, sitting on the bathroom floor, too scared to even pee on a stick.

He didn't deserve anything from you anymore.

You started googling abortion clinics before you even touched the tests. You could afford it. That wasn’t even the issue.

You had more money than you knew what to do with. Your inheritance was just sitting there. You could book a flight tomorrow, pay for whatever procedure, whatever it took—fly out of state, out of the country, if you had to.

But that wasn’t the point. It has never been about the money. It was the overwhelming shame. The fear. The realization that Rafe might have left you, but he was still there, stuck in your head, in your body, in your fucking life. Even when he wasn’t.

He didn’t have to worry about any of this. He was most likely out on the boat, not even thinking about you. Not thinking about what he did to you.

And you— you were left with this. Sitting on a bathroom floor for hours a day, trying to figure out how you were supposed to make a decision that changed everything.

You started looking up clinics again, scrolling through the options, but your mind was barely even there. It was legal in North Carolina for now, but you read something about the 12-week ban they passed in June, and suddenly you were spiraling one more time, wondering how much time you even had.

Could you wait? Could you put it off like you’d been putting off the tests, like if you waited long enough, maybe the problem would just... disappear? Shit, wouldn’t that be easier?

You heard that voice in your head, the one that sounded like your mom, at least what you remembered from watching old videos.

It was depressing how life didn’t let you hold tightly to your memories sometimes. She always reminded you of the kind of person you were supposed to be. The type of girl who had her shit together. The type of girl who didn’t get herself into situations like this, in the first place.

But instead, you were the girl who lost everything—the life you were supposed to have—and somehow, you’d still found a way to screw up what was left.

You kept scrolling like you couldn’t stop.

One page led to another, and soon you weren’t just looking up clinics—you were looking up everything.

What happened during the procedure, how long it took, the side effects, the complications. You read horror stories about infections, about women who thought it was over and then bled for weeks, about people who changed their minds too late.

You even looked up what could happen if you didn’t get an abortion—what pregnancy could do to your body. And that was a whole other rabbit hole you didn’t need to go down. Your body changing, your hormones going insane. You thought about your boobs getting sore, your stomach stretching, the possibility of throwing up every morning, and it felt like your body was already betraying you. And then you read the serious stuff—gestational diabetes, preeclampsia, all these words you didn’t even know existed before that night. There was a minefield of things that could go wrong, things that would go wrong.

Complications. Risks. Dangers.

You read about women who almost died in labor. About miscarriages and stillbirths and the trauma of carrying a baby for months, only to lose it. You never even thought about that, how pregnancy wasn’t just this smooth, magical process people make it out to be. It was brutal. But you’d been the little sister, you never saw your mother go through it, or anyone for that matter.

Your younger cousin, Topper the bitching backstabber, had been born and raised in Los Angeles before he moved to Figure 8 when he was five.

You were terrified—not just of being pregnant, but of what it meant to stay pregnant. Would your body even handle it? You’d always lived off coffee and takeout half the time. An unreasonable amout of parties. Too many drinks some nights.

For a second there, you thought you might pass out.

You’d thrown your phone across the room, it hit the wall with a thud, but it didn’t help. The anxiety was still there, vibrating under your skin, making you want to scream. You glanced at the bathroom drawer again, where the pregnancy tests were hidden like some cursed thing.

Maybe you should’ve just taken one.

Rip off the bandaid.

The stupid phone rang, like was having fun pissing you off, vibrating on the floor where you’d thrown it. You stared at it for a second, debating if you should even pick it up. You didn’t feel like dealing with anyone, especially not whoever was about to ask something from you.

But it kept ringing, and of course, it was a number you recognized—Lily, one of the coordinators from your dad’s foundation. Shit. You forgot about the gala. Again. The one that was happening in two freaking days, the one you haven’t even thought about preparing for.

You swiped to answer, “Yeah?”

“Hey, I didn’t want to bother you, but we need to go over the final details for the gala,” She greeted you, sounding way too perky for how you were feeling. “I really need your input on the seating arrangements, and the auction items, and—”

You blinked back into the conversation, realizing she still talking, and you hadn’t said a word. “Uh, yeah, sorry. I’ve been busy. Can you just handle it?” you muttered, feeling guilty but not enough to actually deal with any of it.

“I’ve already taken care of most things,” she said carefully, “but we really need your approval on the final guest list and the speech. You’re the face of the foundation, after all.”

The face of the foundation. The legacy your dad left you. It was supposed to be this huge responsibility. And it was. You’d always taken it seriously. The one thing in your life you never ruined. But this year, you hadn’t written the speech yet. Jesus, you forgot it was even happening. And the guest list? No clue.

You rubbed your forehead, “I’ll look at it later. Just send it over.”

Lily hesitated again, probably sensing that something was off, you'd always been a control freak. “Okay, I’ll email it to you. Just let me know by tomorrow, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.”

You hung up before she could add anything else, staring at the ceiling. One more thing. One more responsibility piled on top of everything else. You were drowning in all these expectations—being the good daughter to dead parents, the responsible one, the perfect kook girl who was supposed to have everything. You were supposed to be the girl who had the trust fund, the perfect life, the foundation that helped kids in need.

You earned to be her.

Your phone buzzed again, this time with an email notification. You rolled your eyes, already knowing it was from Lily. She’d sent over the guest list, and you groaned, thinking you’d skim it, give it a half-assed glance, and send it back. But as you scrolled down the names, you stopped.

Rafe Cameron.

Of course, he was going to be there. Why wouldn’t he? His family had been involved in your dad’s foundation for years. It was like you couldn’t escape him.

The fucking nerve. To your gala. Your blood boiled instantly, your fingers gripping the phone so tight you almost cracked the screen.

Fuck him.

If he thought he could just show up and rub his new life in your face, he had another thing coming. Without thinking twice, you deleted his name, erasing him like he didn’t even exist. And then, without checking another name, you sent the list back to Lily.

You didn’t give a shit if it was petty. You didn’t care if it wasn’t professional.

Not over this. Not over you.

You were shaking now, but it almost felt good. Even if it was just a stupid guest list. Let him find out when he got there and there was no table for him. No seat. No fucking room.

You still sat there staring at the screen with that stupid blinking cursor. The email from Lily sat open in front of you, and somewhere buried in the list of attachments was the speech. Blank.

Your speech—the one you were supposed to read at the gala in two days. The one you hadn’t even started writing.

This was always the hardest part. Writing it. Saying it. You used to cry every time. Standing in front of all those people, talking about your dad, your family, how the foundation was this beautiful way of keeping their memory alive. It was never just a speech—it was like ripping your heart out of your chest and letting everyone see it, year after year. It never got easier.

But Rafe, used to be there with you.

You could still hear his voice in your head sometimes, 'you’re stronger than you think'.

That’s what he always said, even when you didn’t believe it. He’d hold you, kiss your forehead, and make you feel like it was true, like you really could get through it. He was always so sure of you. But this year? He wasn’t going to be there. He’d stop believing the lies he fed you. You were angry. You were seething. You were utterly alone.

You’d been avoiding this moment—writing.

This time around, it wasn’t just about the speech. It was about the fact that when you walked out of that stage, you wouldn’t have him waiting for you.

You’d step down into nothingness, with no one to catch you.

Your fingers hovered over the screen, but they wouldn’t move. What were you even supposed to say this year? How were you supposed to stand up in front of all those people and talk about love and family and legacy when yours was shattered?

You hated looking at yourself in the mirror, feeling like you’d lost every single piece of who you used to be.

Fuck the speech. Fuck the gala. Fuck Rafe Cameron and his stupid lies, his stupid smile, his stupid promises that he never kept.

If he thought you were weak, if he thought he could break you, if he thought you were the same girl who used to cling to him like he was the only thing keeping you together—he was wrong.

You were going to do this without him.

You were going to stand up there and give that speech, no matter how much it hurt. And if it killed you, so be it. You’d still do it.

Because unlike him, you didn’t just walk away from the things that mattered. Even if it tore you apart. Even if it was killing you to keep pretending like you were fine. You weren’t fine. But you’d fake it. You’d fake it until the whole world believed it.

You’d barely hit send on the email when your phone rang again, and this time it wasn’t Lily.

It was Topper. You hadn’t talked to him since that night—the night. The party where you’d found out, where you’d seen Rafe and Sofia together for the first time. Where you realized that everyone knew.

How he’d called Rafe over, like you needed him to fix it, like he was still yours to rely on.

“What?”

“Hey…” Topper’s voice was cautious, “I, uh, I wanted to call and apologize for the other night.”

You snorted, leaning your head back against the wall. “Yeah? For what part? For calling Rafe like his little bitch or for getting in front of my car when I was trying to leave?”

“I didn’t mean to fuck things up. I was just trying to stop you from doing something stupid.”

“Like what?” you snapped. “Leaving the party? Getting out of there before I had to watch him with her for one more second? Yeah, Top, real dumb of me.”

“You almost ran me over,” Topper shot back, his voice rising just a little, like he was offended you hadn’t mentioned that part. “Kinda felt like maybe you weren’t thinking straight.”

“You jumped in front of the car you fucking idiot. What the hell did you expect me to do? Slam on the brakes and listen to whatever bullshit you and Rafe had to say? Because trust me, ’m all out of patience for either of you.”

He never really got it.

“Look,” Your cousin started, calmer this time, “I didn’t mean to call him. I just thought—”

“You always think calling him will fix things,” you cut in, “Like he’s the answer to every problem I have. He’s not. Not anymore.”

“I get that,” He added quickly, like he was afraid you’d hang up. “But I didn’t know what else to do! You were upset, and I thought maybe—”

“Maybe what? That he could swoop in and save the day?” You let out a bitter laugh. “He’s not your golden boy, Top. He doesn’t fix anything. He ruins things.”

Topper went quiet for a second, probably trying to figure out how to respond without setting you off on an angry rant again. “I get it,” he said finally, “You’re pissed at him. You have every right to be. But I didn’t call him to hurt you, okay? I was worried about you.”

You hated how genuine he sounded, hated that he meant well. He was a nuisance half of the time, sure, but he wasn’t malicious. He never was. He just had terrible judgment.

“Next time, don’t,” you muttered, rubbing a hand over your face. “I don’t need you playing little brother and calling him when things go wrong."

“I wasn’t trying to clean anything up,” Topper explained, a little defensive now. “I just didn’t want you driving like that. You were upset.”

You rolled your eyes. “Upset doesn’t mean I need you or Rafe deciding what’s best for me. I’m not a kid.”

“You’re not,” he agreed, “But you weren’t exactly in a great headspace, so yeah, I stopped you. I wasn’t gonna let you leave like that and end up in a ditch somewhere.”

It hurt like a bitch, because deep down, you knew Topper had a point.

“You could’ve told me,” you confessed what had been upsetting you, your voice losing some of its initial attitude. “About them. Instead of letting me walk into that party blind.”

Topper sighed again, “I should’ve,” he admitted. “I didn’t want you to find out like that. But it wasn’t my place to say anything. And I didn’t want to make things worse.”

Your hand instinctively moved to cup your stomach. You didn’t even realize you were doing it at first, but the second your fingers touched your shirt, the earlier panic welled up inside you again. If he only knew how bad things were. How bad they could get. You yanked your hand away like you’d been burned, heart hammering against your ribs most painfully. There was no way you could even begin to explain what was going on inside your head—or your body.

Not to Topper. Not to anyone. If he knew, he’d freak and you didn’t need that right now.

You clenched your jaw, pushing yourself to focus on the conversation, on Topper still yammering on about apologies and guilt You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at your lips.

“Are you even listening?”

“Unfortunately,” You sounded apathetic even to yourself, fingers tapping against the phone, agitated. “Look, Top, I don’t have time for this right now. I’m busy.”

He sighed. “I know you’re pissed, okay? I get it. But the gala’s in, like, two days. You... you still going, right?”

“Of course I’m going,” you scowled, barely able to hide the bitterness in your voice. “I have to. It’s not like I can just dip out and pretend it’s not happening.”

Unlike some people, you thought, but you bit your tongue.

“Good, because I’ll be there too. And I—”

“Oh, joy,” you interrupted, “Another chance for you to babysit me and make sure I don’t make a scene? Can’t wait.”

“Jesus, I’m just trying to help!” Topper groaned. “I didn’t want to make things worse the other night. I—”

“Yeah. Whatever, I’ll see you at the gala.”

You hung up. You didn’t have the patience to deal with him right now.

The day of the gala came faster than you thought it would.

It was like you blinked, and suddenly, you were standing in the middle of the venue, walking through final checks with Lily, nodding along as she rattled off details you barely absorbed.

The room was all glitz and glamour, with chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, and everything draped in the foundation’s signature gold and white.

Crisp tablecloths. Flowers in perfect, elegant arrangements. Waiters in black-tie uniforms were circulating, making sure everything looked flawless. Flawless.

That word made you want to gag.

You moved through the space like a ghost, smiling at the right moments, giving half-hearted approvals when needed. You didn’t care. People were running around, asking for your opinion on this or that. You’d stayed at the venue longer than planned, making sure everything was in order, but your mind was stuck in that floating-place. You wanted to burn the whole thing down, if you were being honest.

You should’ve called your doctor. Days ago. Hell, maybe weeks ago.

Making smart choices wasn’t your thing lately, was it?

When you finally slipped into the room where they’d set up your glam team, you just wanted to sleep. The room itself was a suite off to the side of the venue, a private space meant to make you feel like royalty.

A massive mirror ran across one wall, surrounded by soft, glowing lights. A table was set up with everything—hair tools, makeup brushes, palettes, serums. Bottles of champagne sat chilled in the corner, the condensation dripping down the glass, untouched. It was the kind of place you were supposed to feel special in.

Normally you did. But this year you were numb.

The stylist worked quietly on your hair, soft curls falling into place as she tugged and pinned each section with meticulous care. The makeup artist was dabbing foundation onto your skin, blending and contouring until you didn’t even recognize yourself in the mirror. The dress hung behind you, a shimmering white gown, custom-designed by Versace for the occasion.

You looked like you were stepping into one of those perfect, glamorous lives. But on the inside, you felt like you were going to lose it at any second. You nodded along, giving tight-lipped smiles when they complimented you, and then they finally left.

The room was dead silent now, just you and your reflection. You stood in front of the mirror, staring at yourself, the perfect curls, the glowy skin, the gown waiting behind you. It all felt wrong. It felt fake. You didn’t bear a resemblance to yourself.

You looked like the version of you that the world expected—the untouchable girl. A doll.

Your rifled through your bag for your phone, but instead, your fingers brushed something else. Cold, hard.

You hadn’t even realized it was in there.

One of the pregnancy tests. You must’ve thrown it in without thinking earlier that morning when you were rushing out the door. You hadn’t even noticed it until now.

What the fuck were you doing?

You had a gala to host in less than an hour. People were going to be looking at you, waiting for you to give the speech, expecting you to hold everything together like always. And there you were, standing in a private dressing room, about to do something so monumentally stupid. Maybe it was the pressure of tonight, or maybe it was the anger you’d been shoving down for weeks, but suddenly, you didn’t care.

You were going to do it.

Without even thinking, you stormed into the bathroom. You were so fucking tired of avoiding this. Tired of pretending like everything was fine, like you were fine.

What the hell was fine about any of this? You tore open the box, hands trembling as you pulled out the test. The room was so quiet, you could hear every little sound—your breath still uneven, the rustle of your dress against the tiles, the click of the test cap as you flicked it off.

You sat down, staring at the stick in your hand. This was insane. You were insane. Who the fuck took a pregnancy test ten minutes before they’re supposed to host a charity gala?

You couldn’t get a proper breath out as you waited, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might rip your chest open. You leaned against the sink, gripping the edge. Your stomach churned, the nausea rising again, and you had to close your eyes to stop the floor from spinning.

What if it was positive? What if it wasn’t?

You stared at the test, willing the result to appear, but it didn’t. Not yet. The little window stayed blank, as if taunting you, making you feel like you were losing your mind. You knew you had to wait longer. You weren’t stupid. You’d read those instructions a million times by now, but you hated waiting.

Hated not knowing.

You couldn’t take your eyes off the stupid little piece of plastic. Just one line or two. That was all it came down to. One fucking line or two, and your entire life would either fall apart or what? Be fine?

You glanced at the mirror, catching another glimpse of yourself, and it almost startled you—your eyes were wild. Desperate. They were the eyes of someone who was just about ready to do anything to get this over with.

You tried to picture telling him again, but the idea alone made you sick. You thought of Sofia, of her perfect smile next to his, and bile rose in your throat. Your hands never stopped shaking. You wanted to run. You wanted to throw that thing in the garbage can and never stare at it again.

Your thoughts spun in circles, going nowhere, just making everything worse. The clock on your phone ticked louder and louder, and you knew—somewhere out there, everyone was getting ready. Guests were arriving. The gala would start soon, and they’d all be waiting for you. Watching you. Expecting you to be the poised, perfect version of yourself you’d spent your whole life pretending to be.

And you were in here, trying not to lose your fucking mind.

You peeked back at it. Still nothing.

No line. No answer.

It felt like you were suspended in time. You closed your eyes, gripping the sink harder, praying for it to end—something to happen, anything.

Then finally, you felt it in your chest—a heavy, sinking feeling, like the moment before a fall.

You opened your eyes.

There it was.

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron (by @itneverendshere)

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