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vennilavee · 11 months ago

Text

Petrichor

pairing: stsg, geto x reader, gojo x reader, stsg x reader

summary: In the middle of the lush forest, there sits a lonely house on a hill. On a dark and rainy night, you find your way to the house and it's inhabitants while running away from a deep, dark secret that you refuse to confront. Little do you know that they welcome you with open arms because they want you in a way that you’ve never been wanted before. It’s so easy to succumb to the darkness once you’ve been invited in…

warnings: this is meant to be a horror fic so please heed with caution - vampire geto, ghost gojo, smut, biting, drinking of blood, bloodplay, unreliable narrators, murder, death and dying, suicide, everyone is a little freaky here including oc, yandere behaviors (i think??)

word count: 15k

a/n: meant to be written for spooky season in october...happy new year do not perceive me. HUGE thank you to @lovenona @libroparaiso @hoennislands for reading large chunks of this fic before i posted it, and @lovenona for the painting for the fic banner! i appreciate u<3

To add to an already terrible day, heavy and dark storm clouds cover the expanse of the sky before splitting open. Rain follows the split seam, pelting down and landing on your car before being met with your windshield wipers.

It’s a good thing you had your tires replaced recently, you think distractedly while tightening your grip on the wheel.

The rumble of your car’s engine is the only noise you hear as you zip through the barely there road in the forest. There are no cars on this road. There are no lights, save for the high beams bursting from your car.

It feels as if you are going in circles, despite the GPS telling you that you are on the right path. You can barely see five feet ahead of you as the rain begins to downpour. You hate driving in storms.

Perhaps you should pull over, rather than potentially wrap your car around a tree while trying to get out of this storm. Can you beat it? Can you beat the ominous clap of thunder and the bright streak of lightning?

In the distance, you hear the winds picking up speed as the towering trees sway. The last thing you need is to die because a tree fell on you.

All you were trying to do was clear your head with a nice, soothing drive after what can only be described as the worst week of your life. The weather forecast didn’t include heavy rain with zero visibility today. You must just be incredibly lucky.

Driving in this weather will surely result in your premature death. You make a split second decision and pull over to the side of the road, glancing at the umbrella in your passenger seat.

You scoff, stepping out into the darkness and further into the belly of the forest.

Night has fully draped over the forest and yet, the rain has not relented. You must have been walking, following your GPS for hours now. And yet, it seems as if you continue to walk further and further away from the road.

You are drenched and shivering, possibly looking like a drowned animal as you trek through the mud and fallen branches. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to return to your car. There is no way to tell what direction it’s in anyway.

So you continue on, shivering with the hood of your jacket covering your head and cursing the skies for leaving you stranded in this endless storm. Your phone vibrates with weather alerts indicating that you should seek shelter due to extreme flooding.

How ironic.

Your umbrella is long gone, proving to be useless with the force of the rain and the wind. You are completely alone in the lush, green forest. Perhaps you stop and appreciate the scent of petrichor if you weren’t so stuck and at the mercy of the unseen forces from above.

You don’t know how much you endure the walk, but you see something in the distance. Something warm, something like the light.

A tall, dark house sits on a hill barely visible with the darkness of the night. But you can clearly see the warmth of the lights that emanate from inside the house.

It feels like a reprieve, a lighthouse as you are lost at sea. So you run towards the warmth.

The house is more of a mansion, you realize as you stand in front of the ornate, mahogany door. Green vines twist around the door as if to protect the house from any trespassers. They seem to pulsate when you touch them, hissing at you in an attempt to send you away.

You shiver again.

Lilies and red roses line the entryway to the front door. Despite the remote location of this strange mansion, clearly someone maintains the upkeep of it.

You’ve never seen a viridian so vibrant. It’s hard to take your eyes away from it, tracing the way drops fall from the vines onto the stark white lilies before dripping onto the meticulously carved stone pathway.

The rain pours down on you heavily, and it rolls off of your trembling shoulders. It feels dry here, like the sun is gently peering out. This strange mansion must be an oasis, or a safe haven for those lost in the woods.

You knock on the door impatiently, hoping that someone, anyone, can save you from the storm. A crack of thunder splits your ears and you jump, knocking again.

“Come on, come on,” you mutter under your breath, “Please, it’s freezing-”

The magnificent door creaks loudly before being pulled open dramatically, only to reveal a tall, white haired man with striking and absurdly blue eyes.

You can’t look directly at him for too long. You think you’ll be blinded.

“How annoying,” he drawls, “Annoying and impatient.”

“My car broke down,” you interrupt, your teeth chattering, “Please, I’m so cold-”

“Oh?” he looks you up and down several times over with an infuriating, smug grin on his stupidly handsome face.

“Can you please assess whether I’m a thief or a murderer or anything equally as dramatic while I’m inside?” you say, glaring at him, “I’ve been walking for hours, please let me in until the storm passes over. I’m begging you.”

“You’re lucky you’re so charming when you beg,” he says, waving you in.

Warmth immediately engulfs you and you sigh in relief. “Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Didn’t you call for help?”

“My phone has no service,” you reply easily, staring him right in the eye.

“No service, What a shame. I suppose it cannot be helped,” he shrugs, “Didn’t you hear? This storm is supposed to last several days. You must be a fool for driving through this.”

“I guess so-”

“Especially in the forest. You never know what’s lurking around here.”

His smile fades and he looks at you pointedly, as if he’s looking straight through you. His gaze unnerves you but still, it takes you half a second to decide you’re staying here in the dry warmth.

Besides, it’s not like you have anywhere to go.

“Gojo Satoru,” he says simply and begins walking away from you. Does he care to know the name of a complete stranger that he just let into his home?

“Aren’t you afraid of strangers? Have you learned nothing from the movies? I could kill you when your back is turned,” you reply as you follow behind him.

“That’s highly unlikely,” Gojo laughs, but it sounds hollow as it echoes through the hall.

“You don’t know me.”

“I know you’re stuck in the middle of this horrendous storm with only me and the inhabitants of this house for company. You think I have reason to fear you?”

Gojo Satoru stops walking and abruptly turns to face you, crowding your vision. He speaks to you, but you’re not quite listening. You’re too enchanted by the odd blue of his eyes. Eyes that bright and deep simply do not exist beyond the walls of this house.

You think you may drown if you stare for too long. Gojo’s skin is pale, even when the lights hit the angles of his handsome face. Maybe there is a halo around his head, invisible to your eye. After all, he is the only semblance of a human that you have encountered in the last six hours.

He must be an angel, sent to shepherd you through this storm.

Inhabitants. Gojo mentioned other inhabitants, but you have yet to see anyone else in the house. Despite the emptiness of the house, it looks homey and cozy, with trinkets and odd items strewn about. It is clear that someone lives here. Someone other than Gojo.

You try not to let curiosity get the best of you and just focus on getting warm. With chattering teeth, you allow scalding hot water to drench your skin and your hair. Trying to catch your breath as you shake like a leaf under the spray.

All alone in a strange house in the middle of nowhere with no escape. It’s enough to make anyone nervous, but you welcome it like a reprieve. A second chance. A rebirth.

You brace yourself against the wall of the shower and watch absently as blood mixes with water into the drain.

Wholly unaware of the pair of eyes watching you in the bath, you sigh heavily as if the weight of the world is on your shoulders. It is. Everything is-

No. You won’t think about it, not now.

You can’t feel the graze of his fingertips, not when he caresses the slope of your neck or presses his fingertips to your hips. Not even when he rubs the inside of your soft thighs, or flutters over your calves just to feel the warmth of your skin. He traces the curvature of your spine with the palm of his hand, while you are none the wiser.

He stands in front of you, admiring the way you turn your neck from side to side and rub your sore muscles. Will you let your hands drift downwards? Would you give him that reprieve?

Your tits fit perfectly in his hands, spilling into his palms without any misgivings. He’d nearly forgotten how velvety a woman’s skin was. Much less a human’s. A gasp leaves his lips as he massages your chest, meeting your eyes eagerly. But you can’t see him.

Your cheeks are heated as you lather soap on your skin with hooded eyes and bitten lips. He leans closer, sniffing your neck- you smell divine, what a gorgeous gift you might be…

And then he is called away abruptly, lamenting that loss of your warmth curled away in his hands.

A dark emerald silk robe lays on the pristinely made bed. It’s buttery and soft against your fingertips and it looks brand new. You can’t help but try it on, and somehow it fits you as if it was tailored for you. It’s perfect. You do a little spin in front of the full-length mirror and giggle to yourself, marveling at how it fits you perfectly.

The guest bedroom he showed you to is massive, with ornate cherry wood furniture and a four poster bed that seems like it was custom made.

The warm scent of sandalwood remains on the duvet and on the pillows as you sink into the bed and try to get comfortable. It’s been such a long day and you just want to rest…

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep in this odd house despite only having been here for a few hours. The storm rages on outside, rain battering against the windows as it lulls you into the first peaceful slumber you’ve had in months.

It has been a long time since a human showed up drenched, terrified and shivering to his home. In the modern age, it seemed that less and less people would venture this deep into the forest. In the old days, it would have been the odd traveler or warriors passing by through the night or a woman running away from her betrothed.

Those were always his favorite visitors. These days, it’s usually just foolish, inebriated teenagers or a stray fox. Definitely not nearly as entertaining.

He remains hidden, until Gojo tells him to come out of the shadows. For now, he will remain content to watch you from a distance in his own home. Your shoulders are tense but your face is friendly as you chat away with the white-haired man as you nurse a warm cup of tea in your hands.

You keep him at arm’s length but not too far away so as to arouse suspicion from the man who gave you shelter during such a horrendous storm.

It smells so sweet inside now. Like nectar and honey and flowers. He had a feeling that dark green would be your color, anyway.

There is a portion of the house that Gojo has warned you to not enter. About half of the house is dimly lit, a sharp contrast to the rest of the house that you have seen. The quietness of the hallway just a few short steps away from your bedroom is eerie.

You can’t help but look beyond the threshold and into the darkened hallway.

With the risen moon in the storm as your witness, you ignore Gojo Satoru’s voice in your head and take a few tentative steps towards the forbidden part of the house.

The bedroom at the end of the hall.

It’s not your fault. He shouldn’t have made it sound so enticing.

An owl hoots in the distance, just outside the house. Is the storm still devastating the forest? It’s awfully quiet. Save for your clumsy footsteps. How long has it been? A night? Three?

Darkness is your only company as your heart thunders in your ears and you push against the heavy wooden door. A single turn of the knob reveals that the door is in fact, unlocked.

You exhale, very aware of the hairs standing at the back of your neck. Turning your head, you squint into the darkness. Trying to shake the inevitable feeling of being watched in this endless abyss of a hallway.

You have to know. You must know why this room is forbidden to you.

So you push the door open with your full strength, only to be met with even more darkness. Somehow, it’s a different kind of darkness. The kind of darkness that swallows you and does not spit you back out. The kind that you surrender to.

Surrender comes easily.

Your pupils cannot seem to adjust to the dark, no matter how long you stand here in the forbidden room. Waiting for something - anything - a stream of moonlight, a flicker of a candle. Instead, you stand in the middle of this airy room, one that you can’t see even five feet in front of you in.

A shiver rips down your spine as the door slams shut with a sudden gust of wind from a seemingly closed window whips around you, only for the air to remain perfectly still and breathless.

Amethyst eyes stare back at you in the unmoving darkness. Mirth is clear in these eyes and your shock is amusing, it appears.

“Can’t follow instructions, can you?” The voice is syrupy and magnetic. You hear the voice, beckoning you closer, but you cannot see where the voice is coming from.

He is illuminated by a sudden flash of thunder just by the large French windows.

This is what Gojo must have meant by inhabitants.

The stranger stalks towards you, his steps languid and sure. You’re frozen in place, unable to move. Too mesmerized by the gold flecks in his violet eyes, and the curtain of glossy, black hair that billows with each step he takes.

Light does not need to brighten his face for him to announce his presence.

“Not great at following rules, are we?”

“Rules?” you manage to reply after a beat, squeezing your fingers together in an attempt to ground yourself. He notices, a barely there smirk forming on his handsome face.

He towers over you like a god of the skies, with the moon as his crown.

“You were told not to come here, weren’t you?” His voice is coated by soft velvet, curling around you but leaving you cold.

“Gojo’s told you about me?” you ask curiously. He talks about you? To this chiseled stranger? The thought makes your heart flutter and heat to flood your cheeks.

“I know all about the lost women who seek sanctuary in my home,” he says softly, a hand curling around your jaw. Your eyes drift to his glossy lips briefly. It’s impossible for you to look away from him, his eyes are magnetizing as they stare right through you. As if you are made of glass.

He chuckles.

The erratic beating of your heart thrums in his ears as blood rushes through your veins like syrup. He licks his lips as your eyes drop to follow his tongue eagerly.

What a foolish girl. You don’t even know his name, and you’re already rubbing your thighs together. His reflection looks back at him in your glossy, dark eyes.

Oh, you are exquisite, a divine little thing wrapped up in a bow. A gift given to him by his lover.

Gojo Satoru is a man of celestial tastes and he always has been for decades. He must remember to praise his lover on a job well done, after all. It’s not often that a woman with blood as sweet and ripe as yours falls into his bedroom serendipitously.

Your eyes are wide and wanting, waiting for him to say something. You just want to hear the melody of his voice once more. Just once more. Another few minutes until you leave his bedroom. Just once more.

His touch is icy cold as his thumb parts your lips further, a sharp exhale blowing against his face. A shiver wracks your spine once more but you will not leave his embrace. The simple touch makes you feel alive again, as if you have been searching and searching for something for years but have not been able to find it.

It feels familiar and foreign.

“Go back to bed, girl,” he says dismissively.

“Can’t I stay? With you?” you ask unabashedly, reaching for his velvet, black robe. You catch a sliver of his tanned chest from underneath his robe and swallow.

He is vaguely reminded of a stray kitten, desperate for attention. Adorable, and pathetic.

“Not yet,” he replies, disappearing back into the darkness that he emerged from with a featherlight touch to your cheek, “Not yet.”

His voice echoes through the walls of the grand bedroom, bouncing off of the ornate paintings. You leave the room, wondering if the enigmatic man with purple eyes was merely just a dream conjured up by the wildest parts of your subconscious.

Time must operate on a different frequency in this house. You’ve slept at least six nights here, and yet the storm is as vengeful as it was the first day you arrived at the house. There is no sign of the storm easing up, either. With no end in sight, you continue to explore the house, thoughts of your car long forgotten.

You’ve yet to come across the purple-eyed man again.

Gojo Satoru is the best company you’ve had in weeks. Possibly months, or years. He finds you in the library more often than not, or in the garden.

The garden that seemingly has not been marred by the wicked winds of the storm. Somehow, the house stands still, impervious to mother nature.

“What are you reading today?” comes a voice far too close to your ear. Gojo Satoru loves invading your personal space, as you’ve come to learn.

“It’s a history book,” you reply, not looking up from the page you’re on. He doesn’t need to know, but you’ve stopped reading the page ever since you noticed him appear in the room. You’ve been waiting for him to stop by, as he always does.

“How absolutely fascinating,” he says, sitting next to you and pushing the book aside to lay his head on your lap, “Now you have something nicer to look at.”

“Is that so?”

You look down at him, once again startled by the blue of his eyes. No matter how many times you’ve seen it, it always takes your breath away. It takes a moment to adjust to the unnatural hue of his eyes and his stark white hair.

He smiles at you. At that moment, he looked so boyish and young. You wonder how long he’s been here.

“You’ve made quite a home for yourself here, haven’t you,” he muses.

“Have I overstayed my welcome?” you don’t sound particularly troubled by it.

“Not at all. Don’t you want to get back home? I’m sure you have people wondering where you are. A child? A spouse?” he probes, eyebrows raising when your heart quickens at the mention of a spouse.

“He’s not waiting or wondering where I am,” you say bitterly, immediately tensing up, “He never loved me.”

“I’m sure he’s worried about you-”

“No. He’s not,” you say with a note of finality. You look away, at your hands in your lap as your face falls and something far away settles on your features. Your lips tug into a slight frown.

“Well, anyone would be lucky to have you love them. He wasn’t worthy,” Gojo soothes you with a comforting squeeze of your hands.

“No, he wasn’t,” you reply. Your eyes are glassy and distant, as if you are replaying a memory of your past in your mind. It was simple, until it wasn’t. You were enough, until you weren’t. “I am deserving of a lover who would do anything for me.”

“Of course you are, darling,” he says, sitting up and tilting your chin up to meet your eyes, “I’m sorry anyone convinced you otherwise.”

You turn toward him, meeting his gaze with big, watery eyes. Your hands are held tightly within his, as you lean towards him. Allowing your gaze to flicker to his pouty lips and back to his eyes.

“You deserve a lover who would write you love letters,” he murmurs, “Compare you to the moon’s beauty.” A kiss to your chin. “Be your lighthouse in the storm.” A kiss to your cheek. “Protect you from the darkness of the world by destroying it. Keep you safe,” A kiss to your eyelid. “A lover who would do anything for you.” A kiss to the corner of your lips.

“A lover who would kill for you.”

A final barely there kiss to your lips. Your cheeks are warm, chest fluttering as you lean into him once more to press your lips to his again. He lays back against the couch so that you lay on top of him comfortably as you chase his kisses. You are impatient, your hands straying to his hair, to his chest to unbutton his shirt.

Your moans are soft in his ears, as if you haven’t been touched like this in forever. Gojo watches the pretty planes of your face shift as he focuses his energy on you, on gripping your hips and letting his hands wander over you before resting on your chest. Your heart is hammering away, soft and delicious.

He looks ethereal under you, fallen from the skies above. You can’t pull away, certainly not from the foreign look in his eyes. One that you’ve never seen before, not in your husband, not in previous lovers… It’s for you, the look of ripe, unbitten desire.

“Oh, you are a gorgeous thing, aren’t you?”

Your skin feels overheated- with too many layers covering the space between you and the man beneath you. You struggle to take your dress off, but Gojo replaces your fingers with his own.

“I’ll take care of you, won’t I? You’ll let me take care of you?”

You nod wordlessly as he lifts you up to take your dress off. You sit completely naked on top of him while he is still clothed.

Your face is buried in his neck as you rut your hips against him, trying to gain friction. Gojo looks up and to the side, feeling a pair of eyes on his back. Purple meets blue and he winks at his lover and smiles before turning his attention to you.

He hopes his dear lover is watching.

Geto Suguru is exhausted, deep within his centuries old bones. Blood does not come by the house as often as it used to, and while it would be just as easy to go to the nearest city to get his fill…

It does not hold the same pleasure anymore. Besides, when his lover is intent on finding him an everlasting source of blood, who is he to argue?

He is just so hungry, absolutely famished. It doesn’t help that a brilliant and beautiful damsel is sleeping in his home, just down the hall. He can hear your soft breaths and the rustle of the sheets as you twist and turn. Are you dreaming of him?

He supposes he can find out just as easily.

He enters your dreams with hardly any resistance from you. Your mind is malleable as he sifts through as if flipping pages of a book. There are patches of grey darkness melded in with hues of emerald and cerulean and amber as he takes a look around the essence of your mind.

It’s almost as if your subconscious can sense his presence and clears a path for him.

There you are, standing in a cemetery surrounded by fallen leaves and dead trees. The sky is grey, fitting with the melancholy that surrounds the cemetery. A breeze in the air whistles through his hair and leads him to you.

Sitting in front of a tiny memorial with an odd smile on your face.

Is this a dream, or is this a memory?

He makes a note of the name on the memorial, just as you lift your head and stare vacantly at him. Almost as if he’s made of glass and you are looking straight through him to the other side.

The dream shifts in a puff of smoke and he is suddenly in an apartment shrouded in shadows and darkness with nothing but the sounds of hoarse voices speaking loudly to each other. Not quite yelling, but not quite talking quietly either.

“... You never loved me, never made me a priority-”

“That’s not true and you know it-”

“You can’t wait to get rid of me, can you-”

“You have this version of love in your fucked up head that doesn’t exist. That nobody can live up to-”

“I just want you to love me and protect me!”

Then there is crying and harsh screaming. It grates against his eardrums before ebbing away into nothingness.

Until he is flung into an ocean of blood and nearly drowns trying to get back into reality.

An envelope outside your bedroom door awaits you after your morning walk in the garden. It is addressed to you, with your name written in black ink in cursive with a large wax seal. You run your finger over the seal in awe.

Who exactly are the men who live in this house, anyway?

The letter reads:

You are cordially invited to join me for dinner tonight, at 6:30 PM sharp. You will find three dresses in the closet of your bedroom. Choose wisely.

I look forward to our evening together.

There is no signature, only initials embossed in the parchment paper in silky, black print. The initials are shiny and wet, as if it was just signed and placed under your bedroom door.

You hold the letter close to your chest, unable to keep the giddy smile off of your face. Ever since you were a young girl, you’ve always dreamed of a lover who would write you letters dictating their unconditional love for you.

You look at the letter again, tracing over the initials gently and press a gentle kiss to the ink. How utterly enchanting.

You decide on the muted mauve gown with tiny, shimmering stars embedded into the tulle. Will your mysterious dinner guest be happy with your choice? Which of the three dresses did he want to see you in?

Your heart flutters at the thought of seeing the long, dark haired man with otherworldly eyes chance a glance at you once more.

He awaits you in lustrous black robes at the bottom of the neverending marble spiral staircase, looking like a painting come to life. Your breath catches in your throat when he meets your eyes with that soft up-turn of his lips.

“Good evening,” he says, voice carrying as he offers his arm to you, “Your punctuality is alluring.”

“Only my punctuality?” you ask breathlessly.

“I suppose that remains to be determined, doesn’t it?”

He leads you to the dining room, one of the many rooms you have not explored yet. A heavy chandelier glitters above the dark mahogany table and if you look for longer than a second, you’d be able to see your reflection in it.

“I’ve observed you, you know. Exquisite taste in books,” he informs you.

“Oh, yes, I’m…well-read, I guess,” you shrug, taking a sip of your flavorful soup.

“I’ve seen you in the library. That old couch isn’t very comfortable. Is it you who leaves my books out in disarray?” he teases.

“What?! I never left behind a mess-” you protest but relax when you see his grin, “Oh. Don’t make fun of me.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes. He barely touches his full plate of food, instead opting to take in your presence in his home. In just a few short days, you’ve made this house your own home.

“Tell me,” he says, his voice curling around you and warming your cold hands, “What are you reading? What’s caught your attention?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” you say vaguely, “I like history.”

“History? What about history interests you?”

“Well… I like learning about the past,” you muse, “We’re doomed to repeat history if we don’t see the patterns throughout time…”

“Yes, we certainly are,” he nods, “History is funny that way.”

“It is. Our own histories are just a reflection of that, too.”

“Oh?”

“We’re doomed to make the same mistakes if we don’t recognize our own flaws… I suppose.”

“And what are your flaws?” he asks smoothly, making you laugh.

“I have none, couldn’t you tell?” you reply with a wink.

He merely looks at you, staring at you as if he can see right through you into the fibers of your soul. It’s unnerving, and you look away to focus on your food and on chewing each bite thoroughly. He doesn’t eat much, if anything, only drinking every few minutes from his glass of wine. But his eyes remain transfixed on you even as you sit in silence.

“I want to show you something,” he says once you’re finished with your meal.

You nod and let him lead the way.

He takes you through the garden, past freshly bloomed tulips, cherry blossoms and red spider lilies and dewy, green bushes. Your eyes are suddenly filled with color, but all you can fix your gaze on is the man who glides in front of you with your hand in his.

His hand is cold, but his voice is warm like tea.

The summer rains continue to fall, but not on you.

In the center of the vast garden sits a shimmering lake with the bluest, clearest water that you’ve ever seen. Your eyes are wide in wonder. Is there a mountain hidden beyond the trees?

“This lake wasn’t here when we moved into the house,” the man says softly.

“How is that possible?”

“The universe gave her to us when we needed her most,” he replies, turning his head with an intense stare.

“And you believe that?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrug, breaking eye contact with him to look back at the lake. The man is intense, like a blazing fire in the darkness. You can’t help but hold onto his every word as he regales you with the tale of how he stumbled upon this forest. His voice is enchanting as it echoes through the silent forest- the trees must be listening to his reverence as well.

He reminds you of a tortured prince. His voice is heard from further and further away as you marvel at the stillness of the young lake. Soon, you can’t hear his voice at all.

The thought should scare you, but you feel safe and protected by the trees in this forest.

You hardly realize how far you’ve walked by yourself, to the other side of the lake. Excitement (maybe adrenaline) settles in your bones as a sudden impenetrable fog emerges, and yet you touch it, wrap your hands around it. As if it has a heartbeat.

It surrounds you but is gentle in its caress as you pick up the skirt of your dress to avoid tumbling as you sprint through the woods.

The trees fade away behind you.

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Air fills your lungs like a reprieve. Just before you let it go and gulp down air again. The crunch of boots on fallen leaves and sound of birds fleeing does nothing to quell the nerves in your belly.

The puffy sleeve of your dress catches on a stray branch, the pretty tulle ripping into shreds. What a waste of such a beautiful dress, you think absently. Your arm begins to bleed profusely but you pay it no mind.

You are a princess, being sought after by the monster in the closet.

Geto Suguru nearly hisses when the scent of fresh blood permeates the air like a barely hidden vice. It’s sweet, like a freshly plucked peach on a summer day.

He wonders how you’d taste on his tongue, your neck bare and craned all for him…

Dull pain radiates across his gums as his fangs descend further. Your sharp laugh pierces the uneasy quiet of the dark forest. His runaway princess, always seemingly ten steps ahead of him.

You flit in between the trees, looking over your shoulder with curious, cautious eyes. Even from this distance at the edge of the forest, he sees honey dripping from your wild eyes.

As you look over your shoulder, you see him taking languid steps toward you. When you blink, he’s there, a shrouded shadow that you nearly miss in your line of sight. When you blink again, he’s gone. Your sprints slow to a walk before you stop completely. In the middle of these strange woods, you look up to the sky, only to see a shroud of endless grey descending upon you.

Purple blinks back at you from high up in the trees. You shiver, and he suddenly stands in front of you, his velvety black robes billowing behind him.

“You have every opportunity to leave,” he says silkily. His words melt over you, dripping onto your skin like hot candle wax. The warmth is soothing and you would do anything he asked, you think.

“I know,” you say softly.

His eyes sear into yours, searching and burning through you as he comes closer. His touch is cold as his index finger remains on your jaw, stroking your cheekbone slowly. Your eyes are wide, shining eagerly with obedience.

His lips part, his gleaming fangs lengthening so daintily and his eyes shift from purple to black. But he is still his welcoming self, with his easy smile and his gentle touch. Except, the way he smiles is different.

The shift is there, but barely recognizable.

“You should’ve run away, little dove, ” he says softly in your ear as you shiver in his hold, “When you had the chance to.”

You shake your head, only making him graze your neck further. You are ravishing, the slow honey in your body gushing like a waterfall.

“There is nothing for me beyond this forest anymore,” you whisper softly into his ear. His lips flutter warmly against the column of your neck.

The first bite is always the most painful, but it eases away as quickly as it came as his fangs sink heartily into the delicate skin of your neck. Right next to your jugular vein, but not quite.

A sigh echoes through the forest, barely a noise over the sound of drops of your blood dripping onto his tongue. It is euphoric- your eyes flutter shut when his fangs pierce further into your neck. Almost straight into the vein.

If he’s not careful, he might drain you dry. That would be…tragic, considering the promise he made to Gojo.

But you are so sweet. Like nectar, and you walked right into his home with open arms, tangled in his decadent web.

Your grip on his robes is tight as you somehow pull him closer. As if you want him to take more out of you. How greedy. But he doesn’t, instead pulling away and licking his lips. His eyes revert back to their chilling purple as he keeps his gaze on you.

You sigh again, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. And yet, something flutters in your belly, making you smile and look up at him with lovestruck eyes.

“What’s your name?” you exhale, your breaths coming out in cold wisps as the wind bites your skin.

He smirks at you, fangs still tinted red with your blood. Your heart races.

“Geto Suguru,” he murmurs, brushing a stray drop of blood away from your neck with his lithe finger and licking it.

He says your name softly before he kisses you, the taste of metal ripe on your lips like a summer peach. Your knees immediately buckle as he slips further into your mouth. Despite the chill of his fingertips, a fire alights in your belly and spreads and spreads. Your breaths are erratic as you trail after him, struggling to keep up.

Your name in his mouth sounds like a promise.

The slight pain in the back of your head throbs lightly with each thready thought that forms in your brain, and yet all you can think about is the way Geto Suguru’s lips felt on your neck. The cold touch of his fingertips against your skin as he meticulously drank your blood.

Your blood. He chose you and he came after you in that forest.

It makes you giddy. It makes the headache worth it.

Slowly, the night turns into day. Repetitively, you hear the sound of the cozy rain and the sharpness of the wind against the windows nearly rattling the house. You don’t recall the last time you saw the sun, and yet light filters into the house through the skylights placed in the living room.

You don’t question it. It’s better than the alternative, being stuck in that stuffy house with your awful husband. Your husband who never cared for you, who never sought you out. Made you his priority.

Despite the fancy jewelry and pristine silks, the way you would dote on him, he never noticed you. He probably didn’t even notice that you were gone, anyway. You were supposed to be his favorite. His only.

No matter. Geto Suguru drank your blood today. Nobody else’s but yours. Are you his favorite? His only?

You can’t help but laugh at such a ridiculous thought as you gingerly touch your neck and soothe the bite marks. Of course, you’re his only. You are the only woman in this house, save for Gojo Satoru. And he has been nowhere to be seen as of late.

You must be his favorite.

“Jealousy is quite attractive on you,” Suguru says, chuckling as Satoru glares at him and throws a pillow at him half-heartedly.

“Don’t make fun of me,” Satoru sighs dramatically, throwing his arm over his eyes.

“Now you’re just being juvenile,” Suguru says, tossing the pillow back. The air is briefly knocked out of Satoru’s lungs and he tries to sit up. He glares at his lover, but the heat in his bright eyes falters as he reaches for him and cradles his jaw.

“You know this is only a means to an end,” he soothes.

“Sorry I can’t be a human again so you could drink my blood,” Satoru says petulantly, “You like her, I know you do.”

“There’s no need to be accusatory,” Suguru replies, airily, “And there’s no reason to lie. I know you like her, too. As if I don’t know that you watch her when you shouldn’t.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but his shoulders slump as he slides into Suguru’s warm embrace. “I just…I wish I could bleed for you the way you need me to. I wish I could fulfill you in the way this stranger can.”

“Oh, I’ve neglected you, haven’t I,” Suguru says softly, tightening his hold around Satoru’s narrow waist, “You brought her into our home for me. There must have been something about her that was alluring to you.”

“It’s not everyday you find a woman who abandoned her car in the middle of the worst storm in years only to show up drenched at the front door. The opportunity presented itself and I couldn’t resist.”

“She seems in no rush to leave. To go back home. We should find out why,” Suguru muses, his train of thought interrupted by Satoru’s wandering hands.

“That’s a later problem,” Satoru murmurs, letting his fingers trail up his thigh. His touch is fleeting, barely there. Just applying the tiniest pressure behind his knee, where he knows Suguru is sensitive. He shudders- it’s funny, that a vampire as old as him can still feel flustered by a simple caress.

Well, Satoru has had many opportunities to learn over the centuries from the Meiji era to now. They were both young high school boys when they met, with dreams of samurai becoming distant as their worlds cracked wide open by the introduction of new literature, new teachers, new philosophies. They were still boys, running through empty fields, sharing copies of the same books. Sharing shade under the same tree branch.

Sharing each other’s first kiss. They were boys, until they weren’t.

The clocks continued to spin until neither of them could control the inevitable passage of time. Time pulled them apart, Satoru to Tokyo and Suguru back to the countryside to take care of his parents and the farm he left behind.

They found each other again, this time under much more dire circumstances. Vampirism was spreading through Japan like a plague, and Suguru wanted to know everything about it. What was eternal life like? Was it beautiful, did it contain multitudes? Was there anything human about an immortal being?

His questions were meaningless because it didn’t take long for him to succumb to a vampire bite. His parents were dead and everything on the farm was gone, ripped to pieces and blood splattered across the wooden walls of the barn.

It took him about three decades to discover that the carnage was laid out by him. He was turned and he rained blood on his own home. It took another decade to find the vampire nest who did this to him.

Then another three decades to find Gojo Satoru once more.

He had been nestled in the heart of Tokyo, as a teacher of all things. There had been a very brief, happy reunion. It didn’t take Suguru long to realize that something was off about Satoru. The coincidences were too many- he was flighty and impulsive, rarely eating (in fact, Suguru can’t recall the last time he saw him eat any food), and he swears that his skin was translucent in the sunlight.

“Something is keeping me here,” Satoru muses with his lover’s head in his lap, “Can’t imagine what it is.”

“I don’t want you to cross the Sanzu River, not without me,” Suguru says firmly, looking at him with red eyes.

“Is there an afterlife for vampires?” Satoru muses, “I mean, I’m surely safe. I’m a ghost, after all. A spirit tethered to the material earth, or something.”

“If you wanted to leave, you would.”

“Yes,” he says solemnly, “I suppose I would.”

It has been decades since that day and the universe has pulled them apart and brought them back together many times. For two immortal beings, spending five or eight or fifteen years apart is just a blip in the fabric of time. They both find each other each time, even when Suguru was contemplating his entire existence as a vampire and a former human.

He had become Japan’s most infamous vampire for a period of time after draining over a hundred humans completely of their blood. How was it just, for them to hold two little vampire girls hostage when they had no say in being turned?

Suguru couldn’t stomach it- how isolating and selfish humans could be in the face of adversity. In the name of self-righteousness.

Never again, he vowed. Never again would he allow humans to treat his own that way. But Satoru brought him back from the brink of sure destruction, before Suguru could decimate the entirety of Japan.

Satoru wouldn’t let him give in to his most primal urges. He wouldn’t let Suguru lose himself because he couldn’t be bound to the earth without him-

“I can’t let you do this.”

“Don’t tell me you care-”

“I can’t let you do this to me, you can’t leave me here! Not for this. Not for them.”

“You’re selfish, Satoru!”

“So are you,” he scoffs.

But that was the end of it. Suguru’s eyes had returned to their purple and Satoru whisked him away.

He had whisked him away from all the noise, the blood, the chaos to the towering castle in the trees that they currently lived in in the quiet of the forest-

“Hey,” Satoru questions, poking his cheek, “You just spaced out for a while.”

“I was thinking about you,” Suguru replies, turning his head to meet his caress.

“As always-”

“You saved me. And you continue to save me,” Suguru says, “So let me show you my undying gratitude.”

Satoru hopes desperately that you can hear the echoes of his pleasure from your bedroom.

The house seems to have transfigured into more of a castle the longer you stay here. Winding staircases appear out of thin air complete with unfamiliar corridors and twists and turns.

But what remains the same is the library and how often you frequent it. The entire history of the universe must be kept in these bookshelves. There isn’t enough time in the day for you to read all of the treasures inside the library that seems to get bigger everyday.

You have been reading the same book for some time now, getting distracted by thoughts of Gojo Satoru. He hasn’t come to visit you in the library recently and you can’t help but wonder if you’ve done something to upset him for him to avoid you.

He comes and goes as he pleases. As if he’s there but he’s not there at all.

“There you are,” you say easily, sitting next to him on the bed.

“Can I help you?” Satoru says petulantly. You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask, nudging his shoulder with yours.

“Whatever gave you that idea,” he deadpans, still not looking at you.

“Oh, come on,” you whine, tugging at his hand, “You can tell me anything.”

His head turns to you abruptly, too quickly to be considered normal. With narrowed eyes, he searches your face for any sign of deceit.

Satoru scoffs and lays back on the bed dramatically. You follow his actions and face him, meeting his terribly piercing gaze. Unable to stop yourself, you allow your fingers to graze his pale cheek. When he doesn’t flinch, you let your hand rest on his chest. He is more muscular than he looks, you think.

As if Satoru can read your thoughts, he turns to you and glares at you.

Comfortable silence fills the room. He stares at you, thoughts swirling behind those azure eyes, willing himself to speak.

Satoru pretends like he doesn’t notice your hand drifting down further.

“I found you first,” he mumbles, “And I found him first.”

“You did find me first,” you muse, “When nobody else wanted me, you did.”

Your grip on his shirt tightens briefly.

“And now he’s drinking your blood and I can’t-”

“Oh, Satoru,” you say softly, “You don’t want to be left behind, do you?”

He doesn’t meet your eyes, but his silence conveys all you need to know. If Satoru could blush, his cheeks would be tinted a rosy color. You vowed before, to never let yourself feel as unwanted and lonely as you did in that relationship. And to never let anyone else feel that same loneliness.

His name is a honeyed whisper on your tongue that he wishes to pull from your pretty lips as often as he can.

“I found you both first,” Satoru replies harshly before he presses his lips to yours, “Don’t ever forget that.”

Chaos bursts in his bright eyes before he closes them to kiss you, to pull your voice to the tip of your tongue. Your mouth is sweet, full of roses and tea. It’s no wonder Suguru is so taken with the taste of your rich blood.

You fist his shirt as if you can’t get close enough to him with quickened breaths. Satoru can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his. Can you feel his weightlessness against you?

Satoru pulls you into his lap easily, groaning into your mouth when you lazily rock your hips into his. You remind him that you’re with him in this magical forest, that he found you first. The universe brought you to him and he kisses you fiercely, to ground himself.

Despite your hands marking his shoulder blades and your legs tight around his narrow hips, Satoru feels far away. Impossible to touch as if there is a veil keeping you on the outside.

Does he know? It doesn’t matter- you’ll find your way through the fog to touch his soul with your gentle fingertips.

The castle contains newly appearing staircases and paintings that have surely been lost to something as feeble as time and history. It protects you from the raging storm outside, the storm that surely awaits you in your home.

It protects you from dangers that you cannot see.

You shouldn’t be here. You really shouldn’t, but you can’t be blamed. Not when the endless shadows of the house- the castle- lead you here. Straight to the ornate door of what must be Suguru and Satoru’s bedroom.

Only a door shields you from them. Only a door shields them from you.

Quiet whispers are muffled beyond the door, both of their voices mixing together. Whispers flow into syrupy moans as you press your ear against the door to listen.

You shouldn’t be here, disrupting what is surely to be an intimate moment between two lovers that you are not privy to. But you want to be. You want to feel their breaths span across your back, hear their voices low in your ear, feel their sinewy limbs under your fingertips.

It makes you shiver. To be velvet in between silver and gold. All you can do is press your ear closer, closer…

No, you shouldn’t. But they’re so close to you-

“I can hear you breathing from out there,” Suguru says dryly, loudly enough for you to hear through the door, “If you’re trying to conceal yourself, you’re not doing a very good job.”

Impatiently, you push the door open, mesmerized by Suguru on his knees in front of Satoru. He is seated on the bed, leaning back on his elbows with hazy eyes and his fingers tangled in Suguru’s hair.

You inhale hungrily, unsure of where to look. Suguru chuckles at you and beckons you closer with a simple, heady look.

“Don’t just stand there,” he says, his voice strained as Satoru complains over the lack of attention on him, “Sit down.”

You barely breathe as Suguru strokes Satoru’s hardened, leaking cock with his massive hand. You wonder how that hand would look around Satoru’s neck- as if he can read your mind, his left hand wanders up the pale divots of his chest and to his neck. Resting there, holding Satoru in place as he squirms for Suguru to do something. Anything.

Suguru’s voice is low but clear, softly telling Satoru to stay still and be patient. His hips jump in time with Suguru’s lazy strokes. How torturous- how long has Suguru had his lover on his back like this, waiting for mercy?

It must have been for a long time, considering the trembling of Satoru’s body and how he silently begs for more.

He smears pre-cum over his cock before pushing Satoru’s legs wider apart. Looking over his shoulder to see if you’re watching his movements, only to smirk at you knowingly. Your cheeks are warm as you peer at him. At Satoru’s vulnerability.

Suguru must know everything about Satoru. Everything about what he likes, about how to dissolve him into a pleading mess of want. You want to learn. You want to please them both. You want to learn from them.

But you just watch, for now.

You rub your thighs together subconsciously when they both sigh in unison as Suguru bottoms out. Their breaths are heavy against each other, silenced when he kisses Satoru harshly in contrast to his slow, purposeful thrusts. The fondness, the love between them is palpable in the way they gaze at each other. As if you aren’t even there- as if they are the only two stars in the entire sky of the universe. It wouldn’t be fair to the scales of the universe for there to be two pairs of lovers like them.

You wish to be the exception. You will be the exception.

“Touch yourself,” Suguru grunts from the bed, looking at you over his shoulder. You make an attempt to crawl closer to him but he stops you abruptly. “No, you’ll stay there and you’ll touch yourself. Let us see you.”

Their hands are interlocked and desire washes over you in a tidal wave. He turns away to give his attention to Satoru but you lift the skirt of your robe up to your waist to give them both a full view of your wetness.

You clench around nothing, wishing desperately to take Suguru in your mouth or press your pussy to Satoru’s lips. Instead you rub your clit in time with Suguru’s thrusts, watching his hips roll. Satoru’s moans are loud and raspy, calls of his lover’s name, please, please, please, more…

“Watch her,” Suguru hisses, his hair in disarray as he shoves Satoru’s face towards you. You gasp when both of them watch you together, watching as you shove your finger deep into your pussy, the sound of squelching mixing together and bouncing off the walls.

You’re quiet in your corner of the room, obediently waiting for Suguru to beckon you closer. For him to grant you a small touch, however fleeting. But he never does, and you are desperate for their attention. For an ounce of their shared love to drip onto your heated skin.

“O-ohhh-”

Your clit throbs as Satoru’s moans get louder and louder, breathier and breathier and Suguru is concentrated on how his cock pushes into Satoru effortlessly, how effortless it’s been for decades but it feels like a millenia- and if there is a god- this is the salvation he’d pray for-

He cums with a broken moan, his chest heaving but continues to push into Satoru as he murmurs sweet nothings to him. They both turn their eyes to you, you who is currently rubbing yourself furiously as if you’re racing against time. Your eyelids are hazy, clouded over with lust. You listen so well. You hadn’t even moved an inch from where Suguru had told you to stay.

“Come here, darling,” Suguru coos, “What a good girl. Do you want a kiss?”

You nod eagerly and all but crawl to him and sit in front of him on your knees, waiting patiently.

“Good girls get kisses,” he replies, “Come here, next to me.”

Satoru pushes back on Suguru, trying to fuck himself on his cock but to no avail. Suguru places a warning hand on his hip to stop him. He kisses you, a chaste peck. It’s not enough for you, but he gives you a meaningful glance. Telling you to listen to him.

You lean forward to give Satoru a kiss and before you can deepen it, Suguru tells you that’s enough.

“No touching,” he clicks his tongue, “Touch yourself while Satoru cums. Show him how much you like it when he cums, sweetheart. Doesn’t he look good like this?”

You nod vigorously with warmth pooling in your cheeks. Suguru’s hair is in disarray, long strands falling from his messily made bun onto his forehead. He moves gracefully, a painter with his paintbrush as he strokes against Satoru. He is Suguru’s canvas.

Your chest tightens at the stars barely concealed in his meteor eyes.

Satoru’s gaze is hooded and heady, concentrated only on the man hovering above him as his hair falls onto his skin. Your fingers are warm against your thighs, but you prefer the coldness of theirs.

Suguru pushes his angel hair away from his forehead and murmurs for him to sing for him. To sing for you. His moans rise in pitch with every stroke- you can’t stop the way you look longingly where they are connected. Each tense muscle in his body is soothed by the other’s gentle but firm touch. It’s a delicate dance, one that Suguru has barred you from partaking in.

Your fingers wander, languidly rubbing circles on your clit, entranced by the ripple of muscles and the sheen layer of sweat on skin. The connection of two lovers is a sight that you are blessed to witness. You want to drink them in, be drenched in their love for each other- for you.

“What a patient girl,” comes a silky voice from next to you, “Why don’t you let us have you now?”

Suguru laughs when you nod your head vigorously. Like an enthusiastic puppy wanting her owner’s attention.

“I want you both,” you say impatiently, pawing at them both,“Together-”

“Let’s give the girl what she wants,” Satoru says, still catching his breath as he lays flat on the bed.

You are met only with hungry eyes and salacious smiles.

The moon hangs above for prolonged hours as the night begins earlier and earlier. It must be nearing the winter, you think. Frost clings to the air like stars in the sky, but you don’t mind it. Not when you’re there to keep both Satoru and Suguru warm.

Despite the winter fast approaching, you still hear the faint sound of rolling thunder.

“That’s enough,” Suguru murmurs, pulling away from your wrist gently as he licks drops of your sweet blood.

“Are you certain?” you ask, despite feeling a bit lightheaded.

“Yes, darling. You’d let me have you, wouldn’t you?” he coos, as if he is speaking to a newborn deer. Your lips part into a wide, bashful smile as you bat your eyelashes at him.

“My sweetest girl,” he says, pressing his lips to your jaw. You laugh airily at the sensation, pretending to push him back with a hand on his firm chest.

“I would give you all the blood you wanted,” you reply, “You only want my blood, right?”

“Is validation from me what you seek?” Suguru teases you.

Your voice is so full of hope, eyes shining with reverence as you wait for an answer. How far would you walk for him? Just to the edge of the universe? Would you fall over the precipice with him? Would you look over your shoulder before jumping if he told you to?

Judging by the way you shove your wrist in his face, he thinks he has his answer. Your skin is dotted with fading bite marks, some fresh and some old. You wear them with pride, uncaring if anyone sees. Not that there is anyone to see you, besides Gojo Satoru and himself.

The soft smile that uncurls on your face when Suguru’s eyes shift from a calm purple to charcoal and veins abruptly appear under his eyes as he feeds on you is enthralling. No feeling will equate to his soft whimpers as the first drop of your blood enters his circulatory system.

That’s all he is, anyway. A mess of blood and an undead heart thoughtlessly arranged together with frayed red strings in a puzzle where the pieces don’t fit. But somehow, you fit. You and Satoru both fit in different places.

No feeling, not even the memories of your formerly known lover, can make you feel as desired as Geto Suguru drinking your blood as if you are the last living, breathing thing on the planet.

Suguru gives you beautiful gowns and glittery jewels to adorn on your neck and your ears. All you need to give him is your blood and he’ll indulge you with his undivided attention.

“I desire you,” he mumbles, kissing your cupid’s bow, “Your mind,” a kiss to your forehead, “Your company,” a kiss to your palm, “Your body,” a kiss to your clothed chest, “Your soul,” a final lingering kiss to your bruised wrist.

“Oh,” you say sheepishly. Suguru can feel your lashes flutter against his cheek.

“Shall I prove it to you?”

He grins wolfishly, determined to indulge in every inch of you.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Satoru says with food in his mouth, “A cop came by earlier. He was asking about a certain abandoned car about two miles from here.”

Satoru’s eyes shift to you, piercing and intense but you don’t meet his gaze.

“That’s so…interesting,” you mutter, “Who would come out this far and just dump their car? How weird…”

“Someone trying to leave something behind, maybe?” Suguru suggests knowingly, his eyes equally as piercing as Satoru’s.

You avoid both of their pointed gazes and take a long swig of red wine.

The silence suffocates you, but you don’t relent. They don’t need to know your secret, the one that you’ll carry with you until your dying breath. The real reason for your abrupt departure from your home, the perceived carelessness of throwing your car keys out in the mud on the forest floor for anyone to find. All for the simple hope of salvation in this sea of trees.

Instead of salvation, you’ve found eternal damnation with the immortal vampire Geto Suguru and ever living ghost Gojo Satoru. It’s still far better than the unfortunate alternative that awaited you in your former life.

You play with the emerald necklace seated at the base of your neck. A gift, of course, from the two ethereal beings sitting in front of you. Your lip nearly bleeds from how tightly you hold it between your teeth, debating whether you should tell them or not.

Not today.

“We need to know who is looking for you,” Satoru says firmly.

“Why? So you can hand me over to them all wrapped up in a bow? Or so that you can exile me from your home?” you challenge petulantly. Suguru narrows his eyes in your direction and you swear they flash an angry red. You try not to feel small in your seat and hold your head high.

“Don’t you dare imply that either of us would give you up so easily,” he all but hisses, “Do not insult me.”

“Besides, don’t you think we should know why the cops are knocking on our door asking about your abandoned car?” Satoru chimes in with a barely concealed smirk, “And how stupid do you think we are? To not know that that abandoned car was yours?”

Your eyes land on your hands in your lap and you sigh, the burden of your former life weighing heavily in your throat.

“You will banish me if I tell you,” you say, “I can’t handle it if you tell me to leave. There is nowhere for me to go.” Your words are sincere as you cave into yourself.

“Of course we wouldn't, sweetheart,” Satoru coos, coming around the table to sit next to you. He places a lithe, translucent finger under your chin and forces you to look at him. Uncertainty dances in your dark eyes but you’re unable to break the trance that he has placed you under.

“Maybe I’ll tell you later,” you mumble.

“How very mysterious of you,” Satoru teases you, patting your hair without a care in the world.

“We’re only asking so we can protect you if we need to,” Suguru offers. Heat blooms in your chest at his firm admission. Of course, they’d protect you. After all, this house is a lighthouse in the storm.

Today, you've forgotten to check if the rain continues to fall outside.

The garden behind this castle of a house is flourishing and colorful, filled with flowers and blooms that you have never seen before. A sea of reds, pinks, blues and greens bursts in your eyes. To think, you’ve never seen the garden before. In fact, when was the last time you stepped outside?

You have not seen the sun in days, weeks, months, perhaps. But you feel the warmth of the sun whenever you lay between Satoru and Suguru.

But the breeze is refreshing against your face as it threads through your hair.

You look over the treeline, at the tallest trees that seem to pierce the stormy, grey sky. The rain has not begun for the day yet, but you suspect it will soon. It’s heavy in the air, palpable against your skin. If you reach out into the empty space, you’re certain you could collect raindrops into your hands.

A shiver trembles down your spine as the frosty air whips your face. Perhaps the rain will turn to snow soon. You always did love the snow. The silence of a fresh, bright snowfall where everything is as still as the night

Despite the approaching winter chill, the flowers in the garden are flourishing as if it’s the middle of springtime. You never really appreciated the springtime flowers in the past. But maybe because you never noticed, never took the time to smell the roses.

The tiny pond centered in the garden is as motionless as the air that chokes you with silence. Lotus flowers float mindlessly from one side of the pond to the other. You’ve never seen so many lotuses in one place before. It’s beautiful and rather ominous.

Time does not move in this patch of the forest. You’re forced to stand still along with the magic of the house, the symphony of the storm. Is it the magic of the house, or is it the vampire and the ghost who live inside the house?

Does it matter?

You sigh heavily, picking at your cuticles as you lose yourself in your thoughts. Your coat is heavy around your shoulders. Are they watching you in the windows? Wondering why you’ve left them alone in the house, why you’re sitting outside all alone?

Will they come find you? What would it take for them to come crawling to you, begging for your attention? Perhaps a deep cut on your wrist with the sharpened end of the gate surrounding the backyard, a scrape of your knees-

A whoosh of air wraps around your face in a firm caress but it’s not the wind, it’s more warm and comforting. You feel something being placed gently into your hair- a red spider lily.

You hide your smile.

The breeze feels like the curl of lithe fingers around your cheek, invisible but heavy against your skin. You sense Satoru’s touch but you still play coy, pretending like you don’t notice him pawing at your clothes.

You can’t see him, but you can feel him. His hands pushing the collar of your coat to lick up the column of your throat. Cold breaths against your ear as his teeth graze your earlobe.

It’s playful, teasing- you can nearly hear his laughter. Until it’s not anymore, and you find yourself on your back in the grass. Staring at the stormy sky, despite the column of sunlight illuminating you.

You wonder if Suguru is watching. You hope he is.

His hands are nimble, an out of body experience, as your blouse becomes unbuttoned and tossed to the side. With a shaky breath, you try to feel for him, wanting to touch his chest or press your lips to his-

But he doesn’t allow you to, only allowing you to be at his mercy as he holds your chest in his unseen hands. You look down in interest as your own flesh is kneaded by the concealed force that is Gojo Satoru. His touch is searing, heavenly and goosebumps rise on your neck as the pressure of his hips presses against yours. Your skirt is suddenly flipped upwards in a flurry of impatience as he pulls you closer to him. To close the gap between life and the afterlife- to tip you towards the latter.

A moan parts through the veil and settles deep in your belly as warmth bursts. You are sensitive to the plush grass against your back, against your bare thighs- your skirt has been pulled off and you lay unclothed in the garden. Like izanami herself, you lay with only the elements to witness as the unearthly being on top of you parts your knees lewdly.

He stares at your wetness as your legs part open- after all, divine intervention sits at the apex of your thighs and he wants a taste. He wants to see the great light, or whatever comes next, in your eyes as his teeth brush against your inner thighs. Satoru tastes honey once he moves your hands aside. You can’t hide from him- you can’t hide from something you cannot see. He is hungry for you, hungry to devour you, hungry for you to give in fully to him. To be absolutely and fully open to him and bare your entire soul to the deepest, dead parts of him.

Your gasps are slight, barely heard breaths as he licks you with fervor. In between your legs is Satoru, grinding into the dewy grass in time with the rise and fall of your chest. You throw your head back when Satoru pushes two translucent fingers into you, your slick coating his skin.

You smell ravishing, the pulse of your heart a song in his ears. No wonder Suguru nearly drained you dead the other day.

Satoru groans when you wrap your legs around his hips. It’s not surprising that you intuitively know exactly where he starts and ends. To your eyes, you see nothing but open space in front of you. But you feel his distorted lines pinned against you, pushing you further into the earth.

He wants to savor the image of your parted lips and half-lidded eyes, the heat on your cheeks as he strokes himself and pushes into you. The noise that leaves your throat goes straight to his cock. Do you enjoy being full like this? Stuffed full of his cock and not being able to see it? See him?

“Faster, Satoru,” you mumble, looking straight at his six eyes, “Faster-oh!”

Careful what you ask for. He grins at you wildly, pushing his chest down to yours. He could spit into your mouth if he wanted, it would be so easy to let his spit slide into your wet, warm mouth. Your body jolts with every thrust, tightening as he rubs your clit and spreads your wetness sloppily.

A pearly sheen of sweat coats your sweet skin and if you could see him now, the wolfish look in his eyes would be shining in yours. He presses down against your bottom lip with a ghostly thumb, groaning when you whimper into the open air. It’s quickly silenced when he pushes his finger into your mouth harshly as surprise melts into heat in your eyes.

Satoru can feel Suguru’s eyes on you both, laid out in the grass. He wonders if you can, too.

The slope of your neck is enticing and he must sink his teeth into you. With a breathy gasp, you shudder and clench your walls around him as you cum abruptly. He grins crookedly at you, not that you can see it. You squeeze around him like a velvety vice. Your eyes are mischievous as you roll your hips against him. The rise and fall of your chest is tantalizing- his hand moves of its own volition to wrap around your neck loosely.

As if you are a goddess with a chain to keep you tethered to the earth, to him, you look directly into his eyes and smile.

His hips stutter as he loses rhythm before he pushes into you and stills completely. Satoru whines your name brokenly in your ear before he cums loudly and triggers you to cum once more. You feel full and heavy, sated with the feeling of his thick, gooey cum pooling and mixing with your own wetness.

His eyes widen when you let your hand graze downwards to rub yourself. You taste him on your lips; tangy and sweet. Your smile is lewd, like you’re proud of yourself for seducing him in the open garden with your bare body and honey eyes.

Your skin glistens with the dewy grass that you have claimed to be your bed as the selective sun forms a patch around your head like a halo. In truth, Satoru feels unholy in the way he looks at you, thinks about you.

He drops his head low to kiss you once more, driven by the desire to paint you with himself. To paint brushstrokes of his devotion on every inch of your skin.

It’s so simple to give in to his kiss. To dive into him without worrying about how far the jump is or how far off the cliff you’ll go. You trust that he will catch you, even if you can’t see him.

He is still unseen to you, but your hands are flat against his taut chest as you maneuver yourself on top of him. You throw your head back as you welcome him inside, your wetness coating him like a salve.

Your hips move of their own accord and Satoru lays back to let you take control of him. You lean down to kiss him but your lips hover. As if you want to say something.

This garden of Eden will hear your secrets and here they shall die, you decide. Nothing seems so terrible with the way he fits inside you. You want to give him your mind, body, and soul.

And with this declaration you will. You rotate your hips, coming down on him gently at a slow pace before picking up again. His hands stay idle on your hips as you finally say something-

“I killed him,” you say softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You can’t hear him, and you don’t need to.

“My husband. We just…it fell apart!” you pant, bouncing faster, “what was a girl to do?”

“He never loved me! Never wanted me. Never paid attention to me,” you whisper, “so I killed him. And I ran away. I just wanted to be his one and only…”

“I killed him and you found me,” you sigh breathlessly, moving an arm away to rub your clit furiously. The words have never been said out loud and the secret that remains between you and him has you squeezing around him tightly. “I wish you had been there to see it, Satoru-“

He finishes loudly, without warning and you keep rolling your hips. He pushes your hand away to replace your fingers and rubs you until you finish with him.

You fall onto his invisible chest and sigh happily. He stays unseen, running a hand over your bare back and feeling the mix of your cum and his of you both leaking out of you and onto him. Your words are the words of a lover, confessions and shy smiles bursting at the seam of your lips and into his.

It must be alright, if a gentle spring breeze caresses your back.

Satoru looks at you in awe- how frightened you must have been when you had realized what you’d done. And through all of the strife and turmoil, you still came to him.

That must be divine intervention. After all, he only planned for you to be a momentary blood bag for his lover until your inevitable decay.

The openness of the house, the wall to wall windows, the way the breeze floats inside and coats the house in a gentle chill despite the ongoing storm outside, is comforting to you now. Rather than eerie as it was days ago. Days? Weeks? Months?

An invisible weight is lifted from your chest, one that you didn’t know even existed since you drove away in a frenzy on that cold, rainy night. The memories are almost too painful, but the newfound freedom tastes sweet on your tongue.

“Will you keep me waiting much longer, darling?” Suguru whispers, tracing your cheek with a long finger. You lean into his icy touch and he smiles at you.

Lifting the skirt of your midnight blue robe, he caresses your thigh and smacks it lightly. His grin widens when you yelp and laugh. Oh, he’ll have so much fun with you. What an excitable thing you are, completely defying any expectations he had of you only to enjoy your time in this castle.

A prison without a fence. He expects you won’t try to leave for a long, long time. Not when it took you all of the drama of a poor husband for you to leave in your prior life.

Yes, you are starting a new life, as you’ve indicated to him in the confines of his bedroom before. A new life with him and Satoru, one where you will be free. As free as the rain that falls from the sky.

Your soul is vulnerable, exposed for him to read whenever he desires. All Suguru sees is pure longing and fear. Fear that you will be abandoned once more.

It doesn’t matter. Suguru will make it so that your wishes are fulfilled forever. And once forever ends and you are nothing but an afterthought in his everlasting life, he will be sure to scatter your ashes in the lake by the house.

He will remember you fondly as the girl who killed to find a home in him. But ultimately, this story will not conclude with you in it. No matter how sweet your blood tastes or how you bat your eyelashes at him to get your way or how endearing he finds you as you list out trivial history facts from a time period he never lived in, not even how warm your pussy feels right after he cums inside you-

None of that matters, except for right now. Right now, when you reach for him with warm hands and look at him as if he is not a bloodthirsty creature, but as if he hung the moon in the sky.

“Make you wait? I’d never,” you reply with bright eyes, shifting against the cool sheets to press yourself closer to him. Your eyes flutter in pleasure when he pulls the knot of your robe loose from your waist. He pushes the robe to the side, leaving you open and exposed to him. Suguru purrs against your skin, the noise vibrating against your bare chest. He lifts his head as his eyes turn red and black veins form on his face.

He’s hungry.

Suguru lifts your wrist to his lips, pressing delicate kisses to the still bruised skin there. Most of the bruises have faded by now, anyway, with fresh ones blooming elsewhere. He remembers where each one is- your thighs, your chest, your neck… You don’t bother with covering them, not anymore. Not since you’ve fully accepted the castle in the forest as your home.

His tongue is gentle as he allows his fangs to elongate and brush against the skin of your wrist, like he is asking for permission.

With a soft gasp, you feel his sharpened teeth pierce your skin as he messily drinks from your vein like a man starved. In truth, he has been starved over the last few decades. Starved of a sweetness like you.

In over one hundred years, he can only remember Satoru’s blood tasting so decadent. Filling him up with a sudden unquenched thirst. Suguru wants more of you- and you know it.

He lets go of your wrist, lapping any extra blood that angrily pours out of the small puncture wound with his tongue. With a comforting rub of your skin, he presses kisses down your torso, taking his time in enjoying how you squirm in his tight grasp. Your body moves in waves against his hold, moving with his push and pull.

The familiar pierce of his canines brushes against the fragile skin of your inner thigh, one of his favorite places to drink from. He says he can taste all of your feelings in that exact spot. Suguru doesn’t care about the guttural noises that rip from his throat as he drinks from you, careful to ensure that you don’t nearly faint from blood loss. Again.

Warmth blooms in your belly, uncurling like fairy wings to envelope you in comfort. But really, it’s Suguru’s touch, his mouth, how loved he makes you feel. He says he’s never had blood like yours before and you believe him. You push his head further with your free hand, encouraging him to take more from you.

But he pulls away, blood dripping from his teeth down his chin and onto his chest. You pull him on top of you for a sharp kiss, smearing your own blood on your lips. He tastes metallic with the taste of your blood down his throat. You want to devour him, to see how you taste in his eyes. You never want him to stop looking at you the way he does- as his prized possession, his favorite girl.

“There have been so many women,” Suguru coos, “Has Satoru told you? But you are the only one who stayed.” He drags lithe fingers over your chest, only to use his long nails to cut you. It’s not very deep, but you watch in wonder as ruby red blood blooms on your skin.

He uses his thumb to paint your blood over your skin only to press his finger to your lips and wordlessly tell you to suck.

“You stayed because you love us,” he says in a honeyed voice, “Good girls should be rewarded for their loyalty.”

Suguru reaches over to his nightstand where he pulls out a silver dagger encrusted with jewels. You stare at him as he places it carefully into your hands. What does he want you to do with this?

It dawns on you when you look at the angry lines on your chest. You sit up on your haunches and smile at him, enamored that he entrusts you to this degree.

You hold the dagger, trying to get comfortable with the feel of such a heavy metal in your hands. It’s a foreign weight, necessary for the foreign task that your lover has for you.

“Right here?” you ask quietly, your hand on his chest where you expect his heart would beat.

“Wherever you’d like, darling.”

With no hesitation, you allow the surface of the blade to pierce Suguru’s skin. Dark, burgundy droplets fall from the cut and trickle down his torso. With wide eyes, you look at him, asking him what to do. Instead, he laughs at you, curling a hand around your cheek.

“Is it not obvious?”

He gathers the blood from the cut onto his finger and presses it to your lips once more. You swallow instantly with doe eyes- you will always take whatever he gives you. But you surprise him when you lean forward and press your lips to the blood on his torso and lick, whimpering with each swallow of his blood in your circulatory system.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Suguru says, petting your hair, “Good girl. Do you want more?”

With darkened lips and eager eyes, you nod vigorously. Wanting nothing more than to please him. He takes the dagger back from you and cuts a much deeper wound into his chest, wincing as he does so.

“There you go,” he says, throwing his head back when you latch onto him and drink his blood. It comes to you so easily. The urge to please.

Strangely enough, he tastes like ripened cherries. His moans are soft as you drink from him as you please. He owns you now, whether you realize it or not. Now that you’ve drunk his blood, he is a part of you now.

Until he decides otherwise.

In your new home, you have created the perfect life. You are cherished and desired, not needing to hide the ugly truths about yourself to Suguru and Satoru. You see them with rosy hearts in your eyes, convinced that they have accepted you the way that they have accepted each other.

You refuse to let any seeds of doubt fester. Will they tire of you, the way your husband did? Will they say that you’re too needy, too demanding of their attention?

The words are familiar in your mind but they look at you as if they are enthralled by you. No, you are a part of them as much as they are a part of you. You try your hardest to quell your rising, unfounded fears. It’s you, not them, you convince yourself. It’s you, not them.

Suguru and Satoru are already in the library, waiting for you to join them on the barely sat-in leather couch.

You read your book in silence, the same three paragraphs burned into your eyelids. You can’t focus, not when the two men next to you try to vye for your attention. Despite their lips on your neck and their sweet, seductive words… There is a buzzing in your head that you can’t seem to shake away. It gnaws at you and gnaws at you, even as you succumb to their touches. Even as they drape themselves over you and pull sweet sounds from your throat.

Why don’t they look at you the way they did before? Are you imagining the look of disgust in Satoru’s eyes as he undresses you? Is the boredom on Suguru’s face an unfounded figment of your imagination?

You are desperate for them, for them to bury themselves in you and build a home inside you. For them to keep you and never let you go. With a harsh kiss and bite to their lips, you seal your fate of your own accord.

In the thick of the frigid winter, the seasons change. It no longer downpours everyday- instead, snow covers the forest. Completely untouched and pure in a delicate, white blanket that cradles the earth.

The cold nips at your cheeks as you step outside the castle on the hill. You are dressed only in a thin black robe that rustles with the icy wind. With barren feet, you step into the snow. Hardly registering the way your blood cools with each step or how your teeth begin to shatter.

Despite the clean scent of snow in the air, you still catch the lingering scent of rain.

Loose deep red rose petals that you hold in your arms taint the pristine white snow as if they were drops of blood. The plant life still somehow thrives even in the wintry weather.

It is so quiet, with each step you take hardly making a sound. The world is still as you make your way over to the nearly frozen over darkened lake. It glitters with the pale sun, almost blinding you but you remain undeterred.

It is a chance for rebirth. Revenge. Or is it redemption?

You dip your foot in the lake first. Then, you close your eyes and surrender to the unknowing abyss with nothing more than a silent splash.

Melted snow coats the earth you walk on when your eyes open once more. It must be days later that you breathe the dry air and emerge from the depths of the lake, your robe soaking wet and sticking to your clammy skin.

But you do not feel the cold, nor do you need to breathe air. It’s a leftover reflex from the person you were not even a full week ago.

The door to the castle on the hill is the same as the first day you saw it. When you were running away from your old life. Here you are, embracing your new one.

You knock on the door gently. Once, then twice.

You are met with wide, surprised celestial eyes. Only offering him a grin in return.

“What did you do?” Satoru hisses, yanking you inside by your forearm. He senses the difference in you already, the darkened energy coating your bloodstream. Your heart does not beat at all and your canines have become sharpened fangs in your mirthless smile. Your hands are cold when you paw at his chest. He’s used to cold hands, but yours are unforgiving. A threat when your nails nearly pierce through his skin.

Most of all, blood stains your skin and your teeth when you smile widely at him. Some of it is fresh, still dripping down your neck and some of it is dried along the curve of your jaw and your chest. It reminds him of a lost, wounded wolf. It’s jarring, the sweet smile he is used to is sinister and unforgiving.

It doesn’t suit you, and yet this is what you have chosen. Your laughter is grating in his finely tuned ears, reminiscent of a curse. Is that what this is? Is that what you have become? An immortal curse?

He ignores the trepidation crawling on his skin. Satoru can’t exactly slam the door in your face, can he?

“Come, lover. Let’s find Suguru,” you say with bright eyes, “We have much to catch up on.”

“You were supposed to be nothing but a blood bag for Suguru,” Satoru seethes, “Look what you’ve done-”

“No, please, I did this for you,” you wail, tugging on his shirt, “I want this forever. Don’t you want the same? You said you did!” Doesn’t he see you? Doesn’t he see how much you crave him?

“Enough,” comes Suguru’s voice from behind Satoru. He looks at you, running a thumb over the blood on your skin. Then at the silent, unmoving lake.

He closes his eyes for half a second and sighs, ignoring Satoru’s very purposeful glare at his head.

“I did it for you, Suguru,” you whimper, relaxing when he gathers you in his arms and strokes your hair. He says nothing, instead raising his eyes to meet Satoru’s. Two vampires in the same forest? A newborn vampire, at that?

Suguru is tempted to stake you for your naivete, but refrains from doing so. Sheer bloodlust is what got them into this mess, after all.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says into your hair, but he means for Satoru to hear it, “Don’t you worry about a thing.”

The sun sets in brushstrokes on the world, but not on you.

#stsg x reader #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satosugu x reader #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader

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hotmentransformed · 4 months ago

Text

The Tornado Wrangler

Kevin had always been fascinated by the sky. Growing up in the heart of Tornado Alley, he spent countless evenings watching the horizon, mesmerized by the towering clouds and the electricity of a brewing storm. So it was no surprise to anyone when he doubled down his efforts in high school to get a full tuition scholarship to study meteorology at the University of Oklahoma.

Despite his meek stature and unassuming presence, Kevin wasn't just your average meteorology nerd; he was also an amateur storm chaser, spending his weekends and evenings tracking storms, hoping to witness the raw power of nature up close and in person. His peers admired his passion for twisters but often worried about his safety. They'd warn him to be careful, and that he could get hurt. Kevin would simply laugh it off, saying he knew what he was doing.

One sweltering May afternoon, just after finals finished up, the atmosphere was ripe for severe weather. A tornado outbreak was forecast, and Kevin could feel the excitement building in his chest. He checked his gear, ensuring his cameras, weather instruments, and emergency supplies were all in place. His beaten-up 2005 Honda Accord, affectionately named Storm Seeker, was gassed up and ready to go.

The sky darkened, and the first storm cells began to form. Kevin monitored the radar, pinpointing the most promising supercell. He drove rapidly with a mix of caution and anticipation, weaving through the countryside, always keeping an eye on the sky and his instruments. The thrill of the chase was a feeling like no other. As he approached the massive, rotating storm, Kevin could see a funnel cloud beginning to dip down from the base. He pulled over to the side of a deserted road, his heart pounding with excitement. He grabbed his camera and stepped out of the car, eager to capture footage of the forming tornado.

The tornado touched down, a swirling monster of wind and debris. Kevin watched in awe, his camera rolling. It was a perfect intercept, the tornado moving steadily away from him. Being out of harm's way, Kevin could take the time to truly admire the magnificence of nature's destructive forces: each tornado was special and distinctive. He couldn't wait to return to his dorm room and upload the photos to his database. He was about to return to his car when he noticed something alarming: the tornado was changing direction, and fast. Within a matter of seconds, the massive twister barreled straight towards him. Kevin's heart skipped a beat as he sprinted back to his car. He barely had time to shut the door before the tornado was upon him. The wind howled, the car shook violently, and the world outside became a chaotic blur of flying debris.

Then, with a terrifying lurch, his car was lifted off the ground and pulled towards the sky. Kevin gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white, as he felt the incredible force of the tornado suck him and his car into its heart. He was weightless, tossed around like a child's toy in the vortex. The noise was deafening, a roar that drowned out his own screaming. Suddenly, the car door was ripped off, and the violent wind yanked Kevin from his seat. His lanky body was flung into the air, spinning uncontrollably, the world a chaotic blur around him. He felt the sting of debris cutting into his skin and tearing his clothing, the force of the wind threatening to rip off his scrawny limbs which flailed like a ragdoll. He saw, in the chaos, Storm Seeker crash onto the ground and crumple like a piece of paper.

He struggled to keep conscious, the pain and fear overwhelming him. As he was thrown across a field, the ground rushed up to meet him, Despite his best efforts, Kevin's vision began to darken, his brain struggling to keep up with all of the adrenaline and pain. He landed with a bone-jarring thud, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. As darkness closed in, the last thing he saw was the towering tornado moving away. Kevin's world went black, and he passed out, surrendering to the storm.

Kevin's consciousness flickered back like a faulty lightbulb. He awoke with a massive headache, his head pounding in rhythm with the distant rumble of thunder. Groaning, he squinted against the harsh sunlight piercing through the dissipating clouds. Blinking rapidly, he tried to piece together what had happened. Slowly, he sat up, rubbing his temples in a futile attempt to ease the pain. He reached over and put on his sunglasses to try and make the sunlight more bearable. As his vision cleared, he looked down at his muscular body. Something seemed different, but he couldn't quite place it.

His massive legs filled out his jeans, his arms bulged inside of his weathered leather jacket, the lines of his abs were visible through his sweat-soaked shirt, and his feet felt cushy and warm inside his boots. Looking to his right, he saw his cowboy hat lying beside him. That must be what was different!

Feeling disoriented yet determined, Kevin reached for the hat. As soon as his manly, calloused hands touched the worn leather, a sense of familiarity washed over him. He placed it on his head, and suddenly, his mind was flooded with memories. Images and sensations poured in, overwhelming him. He remembered filming videos and live streams, engaging with fans, and chasing storms across the Midwest. He saw himself standing in front of towering thunderheads, narrating the events with confidence and charisma. He recalled the thrill of the chase, the roar of the wind, and the exhilaration of driving headfirst into a twister.

Tyler Owens stood up, still unsteady on his feet from being tossed around by the wind, and looked around. His outfitted storm-chasing truck was parked just where he had left it. As he strutted over to his truck, he turned back towards the sky and saw another twister forming in the distance. Pulling out his camera from the cab, he began to set up for his next livestream adventure. He was going to show everyone online why he earned the nickname Tornado Wrangler.

#male tf #transformation #tf #transform #male transformation #muscle transformation #muscle tf #celebrity tf #celeb tf #twister tf #celebrity #glen powell tf

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astroboots · 1 year ago

Note

Hmmm ok maybe the three of them going on holiday and making good use of a hotel room and balcony 😉

STRIP POKER

Summary: The trio goes on a beach holiday only to get trapped in their hotel room and you end up playing strip poker.

Rating: Explicit, DP with Frankie's giant cock which needs a warning of itself.

Warning: Writer has no fucking clue about poker (or any card games) and it fucking shows. She did research and friends and family tried to explain it to her but that only confused her more.

Pairing: Frankie x female reader (you) x Santiago

Word Count: 5k

Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It's raining outside.

A violent smattering of rain so aggressive it sounds like the window panes are getting the beating of its life.

Frankie sighs. $250 a night for a hotel room with a seaside view and it's just fucking pouring down.

He is standing outside on the balcony, still within safe shelter from the rain. Leaning his elbow against the balcony rail, he peers down at the perfect aquamarine water that glitters like a precious gem underneath, out of reach.

It's his first proper holiday from work in years, and he'd thought it'd be nice to splurge a bit. Big king-sized bed. Hotel Spa. Beach access.

It would have been perfect. And at first it seemed to be. Gorgeous sun as far as the eye could see when the plane touched ground on the tarmac. Then it started raining, and it just didn't stop. Torrential -- there's a typhoon warning on the weather forecast that everyone is recommended to stay inside -- kind of rain.

He throws a glance behind his shoulder, back at the hotel room where Santiago is draped across the large king sized bed with a thick novel he picked up from the airport. Santiago is about three quarters in, which means there's an hour, maybe less, before he's finished.

After that there will be nothing to distract the man and it's only a matter of time before Santiago will get restless. God knows what he'll get up to then.

For once, Frankie won't blame him.

Stuck in a small room with nothing but reruns of telemundo and shitty overpriced hotel service club sandwiches to keep everyone distracted. Frankie's pretty sure that he's going to follow suit with a case of cabin fever not long after Santiago.

From the corner of his eyes, he spots you stomp over to the bed where Santiago is lying. He can't hear what you're saying, but you're waving your hands around animatedly. Santiago immediately puts his novel face-down against the mattress, then he shakes his head adamantly at whatever it is you are saying.

Out of the three of you it looks like your patience was the first to snap.

Your arms cross across your chest, feet stomping down in dismay. Then you turn in the direction of the balcony and Santiago is immediately shooting to his feet to preempt you. He outruns you across the room and flings open the balcony door.

"Frank! Tell your wife it's a bad idea!"

Frankie rolls his eyes at the dramatic outburst. Oh it's his wife now that you have a bad idea, is it?

Cocking his head to the side, Frankie looks to you over Santiago's shoulder. "What's a bad idea baby?"

"Let's go out!" You announce. "So what if it's raining? We can go for a quick swim anyhow. It'll still be warm."

Frankie blinks. He casts his eyes over the cascade of rain that has turned the once white sand into grey sludge. Catches sight of the parasols on the beach that has been uprooted by the winds and are flying wildly, a scene straight out of that 'Twister' movie with Helen Hunt he saw as a kid.

There aren't many occasions in your life together that Frankie has ever said no to you. This though might be one of those rare ones.

"Baby," he starts, voice soft as to cajole you. "That's a bad idea."

You throw your hands out in a dramatic gesture as you stalk your way back inside the room. Frankie barely catches the tail end of your sentence but he hears the string of swears to understand the sentiment of it.

Frankie's left with only Santiago for company on the balcony. The man calmly walks up to the end next to him, leaning out against the railing to assess the weather outside.

To Frankie's surprise, Santiago doesn't say anything. Seemingly content with the companionable silence and the sound of rain smattering all around them. There are no bratty complaints about paying hundreds of dollars only to watch rain. No witty snark.

"You're being uncharacteristically well behaved," Frankie says.

Santiago grins. "I've had a lifetime of experience sitting out shitty weather with nothing to do during missions, Frank. At least this time, I don't have to listen to Firefly's snores."

Frankie snorts at the memory.

"There's much worse things in life than having you and Boa cooped up with me in a fancy hotel room."

There's something soft in Santiago's eyes as he says it. A sentimentality in his voice that Frankie has a hard time placing, because he can't quite recall when Santiago has ever used it with him before.

Before Frankie has a chance to recuperate from blanking out and think of something to say back, Santiago is already leaning away from the balcony to step back inside the room towards you.

"Come on sweetheart. Stop being a brat," he says and playfully swats your backside with a gentle tap that makes you jump.

Santiago leans over the desk and opens a drawer to pull out a pack of cards that he cracks open and your eyes light up at the sight of it.

"If you're bored, let's play a game, yeah?"

In his own humble opinion, Frankie's never been particularly good at poker. He's got the poker face part down, but he never had an interest for gambling and the rules of the game never quite made sense to him.

Santiago on the other hand is a master of it. He's the undefeated champion during their military days and he regularly cleaned out everyone's savings on any given night.

As for you. Competitive as you are, as with every game that you've played more than twice -- you got good at it with practice, but the poker face bit of it is something you are still struggling severely with, because it's always written as plain as day on your face if you have a good or bad hand.

So in a game of strip poker, it's a bit surprising that two hours in, Santiago is the one sat in his underwear, while you and Frankie are still fully clothed.

Frankie's down to his t-shirt and briefs, whereas you have only lost your right sock.

In all honesty, Frankie doesn't quite understand it. Because right now you're sitting across Santiago, a grin so wide you are going to end up with muscle soreness in your cheeks. It's a sign the size of a massive billboard on Time Square lit up in neon and flashing lights that the hand you've been dealt with is good as gold. Yet, despite all the clear signs pointing to only one very clear and undeniable conclusion, for some unfathomable reason, Santiago still refuses to fold.

He tips his chin up in challenge towards you. "What you got sweetheart?"

That grin of yours grow impossibly wider as you set down your cards, revealing them one by one on the wooden floor where you're sat.

First a diamond 8. Then a ace of heart. Then an ace of diamond. Santiago's defiant features fall, pearly white teeth sinking into that pouty lip as he watches you put down a club ace. And as you put down the final card: An ace of spade. Santiago groans in defeat.

"You're cheating," he mumbles indignantly. But his fingers are already dragging his sole remaining garment down over his hips to the sound of your cackling laugh.

If Frankie's eyes linger for a little longer than they should at the round ample curve of Santiago's ass, you don't notice over your absolute glee in defeating the man.

You're already hooting with joy as Santiago demands another round, metaphorically kicking the man when he's already down.

"And what exactly are you going to gamble with for the re-match? You're butt fucking naked Santiago!"

"We'll do different stakes," Santiago shoots back.

"Like what?"

"I'll do whatever you say."

It's like a pin drops in the space between you. Your laughter stops.

"Whatever?" you repeat.

There's a glint in your eye that even Frankie can tell is dangerous, and only an idiot (a competitive idiot) would still go ahead when met with that look on your face.

Santiago is seemingly that idiot.

"Whatever," he confirms. "Carte blanch. Nothing's off the table."

The devious smile on your lips doesn't wane for even a second. You take the deck of cards back into your hands and shuffle them.

"You're on."

Tense is an understatement to describe the next half hour that unfolds in the hotel room.

For a game that was meant to be a fun distraction from the rain outside, it's now turned into something else entirely.

Rundown gambling dens by the border of Colombia are less intimidating than what is going on between you and Santiago right now.

"Antique markets every Sunday at 6am for a month," you threaten him. Santiago practically twitches at the scene you're painting. His fingers grip on tighter on his hand of cards.

You grin at the sign of weakness.

"Oh and you're calling Martina about that time you blamed her for stealing booze from your mom but it was really you."

"What?" Santiago pipes up in alarm, with no trace of his trademark coolness that he usually has for these games. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Whatever I say," you remind him. "Those were the terms."

Santiago seethes. Gritting his teeth as he shakes his head and sits back down firmly on the ground. "Sure," he mumbles like a petulant child. "Whatever. Show your hand already."

You scoot closer to Santiago, cards tucked close to your chest with a smile so wide it lights up the whole room with it.

The first card that comes down is a club of 9. The next is a 10 in the same suit.

Frankie can already see the small muscle in Santiago's cut jaw flex before the man drags his hand over it in a tell-tale sign of displeasure that both you and Frankie recognize all too well.

Normally Frankie would say that with that look on your face, Santiago is in a whole world of trouble.

Normally.

The face of Jack is staring up at the three of you from the floor, and before you even put down the final two cards, Santiago and Frankie both already knows that it is going to be a Queen and a King dressed in black club.

You fling down the duo triumphantly and you're already listing out loud every embarrassing act you are going to force Santiago to endure. There are threats of toilet scrubbing. Brunches with Frankie's mom. Attending a taxidermy class with you.

It lasts for several minutes before you lean down to start gathering the cards to put them away.

"Sweetheart, slow down."

Santiago reaches over. His free hand that's not holding the cards, cupping over yours to stop you. There's a slow and almost gentle smile that spreads across his lips.

Then Santiago finally drops the act.

"I haven't shown my cards yet have I?" he says.

From the way that your smile fades. The way the bright light in your eyes dim, you know it too. The bastard played you. Has been playing you this whole evening, right into his conniving and clever hands.

Frankie suspected as much.

After all, Santiago is brilliant at poker. Undefeated for as long as he's known the man.

As good as you may have gotten with practice, there was no way your long and uninterrupted winning streak of this entire evening was from sheer luck. Especially not when Santiago has not shown his hand a single time this evening.

10 of hearts. Jack of Hearts. Queen and King dotted with red hearts above their crown. Then finally an Ace in the shape of hearts.

A royal flush.

"Soooo," Santiago starts with a slow and meaningful drawl as he grins back at you.

"Whatever I say huh?"

Frankie should probably put a stop to this.

Because you look like you're about to kill someone.

You're kneeling on the floor, tucked between Frankie's legs, as Santiago is right behind you, plastered closely to your back.

The man can't resist the urge to tease you, even if it is under imminent threat to his life. Santiago's nimble fingers tuck a loose curl of your hair behind your ear before pressing a kiss to it.

"You're scaring poor Frankie," he tuts. "It's not good manners to stare daggers at a man when you're inches from his cock, sweetheart."

That comment doesn't make you look any less like a murderess to be.

"Frank," Santiago calls out. "Take out your cock."

Frankie sighs as he reaches for his belt to unbuckle. One hand reaches underneath his boxers as he pulls himself out. He doesn't know why he lets either of you constantly rope you into these situations.

God he feels fucking ridiculous.

"Look at how nice and obedient our husband is being," Santiago goads as his hand comes to your jaw, bridging the span of it. Then he gently tilts you downwards to guide your face forward until you're lips are mere inches from Frankie's cock.

As if by instinct, without further instructions, your mouth already parts for him. Just the sight of your glistening tongue makes the entirety of Frank's back tingle.

He can't help it. It's sense memory at this point.

The tip of your tongue darts out, but before you make any physical contact, Santiago stops you.

"Not yet," he says.

His arm curls around the front of your chest, pulling you back again with an expression of pure schadenfreude.

"I'm gonna have to have you ask nicely for it, sweetheart. Ask Frank to let you suck his cock."

Frankie nearly rolls his eyes at Santiago. The man just has to rub it in doesn't he? Insufferable brat.

If he was Santiago, he'd sleep with one eye open tonight.

Still for all his teasing, it could be so much worse. Not to defend Santiago and his idiocy. But in comparison to what you had in mind for the man, Santiago is going more than easy on you. This is mild for the man.

You must know it too, because you don't protest. Barely even hesitate as you gaze up at Frankie, through your thick lashes, dutifully and do as you're told.

"Please can I suck your cock, Francisco?"

Shit.

Excitement pings across his nerves at your words.

This is a ridiculous situation. Frankie shouldn't get turned on.

But he can't help himself. not when he feels the warmth of your breath exhale gently over his cock and the stupid thing immediately stirs into rapt attention.

Your hands reach over, fingers wrapping around his girth. Frankie doesn't even get a chance to savor it before Santiago is already grabbing for your wrists.

Cock-blocker.

"Nuh, uh," Santiago admonishes. "No hands".

You don't fight him on it. Your hands withdraw to your sides and you keep them there obediently, as you lean down the rest of the way, until your soft gorgeous lips press down against Frankie's quickly hardening cock.

Heat spears through his stomach at your touch.

Soft and almost chaste, your lips linger on his cock and it has Frankie immediately swelling to full hardness, until he can feel it twitching against your soft cheek.

Your tongue darts out, the pink tip gliding along a protruding vein as you pamper his cock with your full attention. Lapping, sucking and kissing at the spot with a quiet moan before you finally move along and slip the head of his cock between your lips.

Dizzying pleasure punches through him and for a brief second, even sat on the bed, Frankie thinks he might pass out from the overwhelming sensation. His mind is in the process of drifting and floating out of his body and away from the room. The only thing that still keeps him tethered to consciousness is Santiago's voice. The gentle mocking praise that spills from the man's filthy mouth.

"Isn't our sweet girl good?" Santiago asks him. "Doing such a good job isn't she?"

Frankie wants to say yes. But his tongue is heavy in his mouth, and he's gone dumb with pleasure to the point that he's forgotten how to speak.

In front of him, Santiago is having the time of his life (because of course the bastard is). There is a sly smile on his lips as that clever hand of his palms the small of your back. He traces the length of your spine until his hand disappears under the edge of your panties.

It doesn't take much detective work for Frankie to guess what Santiago is doing to you as you moan keenly around his cock.

"Look at her isn't she so pretty sucking your cock, Frank?"

For all that the man keeps coddling you with his words, cooing and hushing you with a soothing cadence, Santiago doesn't show you much leniency. His hand isn't stopping, even as you whimper and shake from his touch. He doesn't let up.

Even from Frankie's obscured view from the bed, he can see Santiago's fingers working into you. Finding every perfect angle that has tears stinging in the corner of your eyes until they gaze up pleadingly at Frankie with a wet glossy sheen.

Fuck, you're so fucking pretty like this.

"So fucking perfect for us. I think my only criticism is she gets so easily distracted", he teases as your hips cant up to chase his hand, for Santiago to give you more.

All Frankie can manage is a desperate groan in return. His head tilts back as the overwhelming sensation washes over him. Hips canting deeper into your mouth to have more of your lips, your tongue, more of… anything that you are willing to give him.

Your throat protests at the thick intrusion, swallowing in fits around Frankie. You whine, trying to pull back but Santiago is there pushing you forward with another encouraging string of praise.

Frankie can see the man work his fingers deeper into you and your body is wracked in another series of shivers, mouth parting until his cock slip out. You try to cover your mouth with your hand to stop a moan that breaks out, but Santiago's hand immediately shoot out to grab your wrist again to secure it to your side.

"That won't do. Put your pretty mouth back on Frank's big cock sweetheart."

"Santiago," you protest throwing him a menacing glare, a second away from telling him that it's his fault to begin with.

"Whatever I say," Santiago reminds you, parroting your own taunting words from before. "Those were the terms."

You bite your lip with a pout that is all too similar to Santiago.

In moments like this, Frankie is reminded of the closeness of the two of you. How inextricably intertwined you two are having grown up together. Two sides of the same stubborn, competitive coin. And god he loves both of you.

Swallowing your bruised pride, you bend over again, parting your lips to put your mouth back on his cock.

Heat spears through him until his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head. The last thing he sees before they do is Santiago's eyes gazing back at him.

Even behind closed eyes Frankie can't get away from it. Santiago's sweet and murmured praises as he talks about how good you are. How pretty you look. In the dark it's easy for the lines to be blurred enough that Frankie isn't entirely sure who Santiago is directing the praise at anymore. And that makes it even better.

When Frankie opens his eyes again, blinking away at the watery edges of his sanity, Santiago is right there.

One hand palming languidly at his own cock as he observes Frankie and you.

He smiles at Frankie, holding the eye contact before he moves to position himself behind you, gripping at your hips. Cock lined up and nudging against the cleft of your ass, taking his sweet fucking time like he's putting on a show for Frankie's benefit to make sure he catches every single detail. Then he pushes forward, into you.

You gasp at the new intrusion, hands flying to Frankie's hips to keep yourself steady as Santiago thrusts forward. The momentum forces your entire body further onto Frankie's cock.

It's a struggle for you to keep your mouth on him and it's a maddening sensation for Frankie. The way your tongue darts out, desperately licking and sucking around the tip of him as best as you can. All the while the man is taunting you with unrestrained glee in his tone.

"It's not too much is it cariño? You can do it. You can take me and Frankie both can't you? Be our good girl, don't stop. Keep going."

And fuck, you don't stop. Your mouth envelops the length of his cock. inch by inch as Frankie watch in delirious fascination as the thick girth disappears between your lips.

You take in so much of him, Frankie has a momentary thought of how you even manage to fit it. Then he feels himself hit the back of your throat.

Christ, Frankie's not particularly religious but he's pretty sure he sees heaven as his cock nudges the back of your throat.

Still you continue, past your limits, eyes watering as you swallow desperately around him.

"Good girl. Such a good fucking girl," Santiago repeats, as he grinds his hips into you.

His hand rests on your back, sweeping your hair to one side until your neck is bare. Then he leans over, his chest pressed along your back and presses a kiss onto your nape.

It's such a sweet gesture, completely at odds with what the man is doing to you in this moment. Then his hips come to a still, an indicator that Santiago is well on his way to implement phase two of whatever devious plan he has for the three of you tonight.

Because Frankie knows Santiago. Better than you know Santiago sometimes, it seems. He knows him well enough that what has transpired so far is just the appetizer for what's to come.

That's just Santiago. Always a step ahead of everyone else. Always an opportunist to the core, his mind is always considering and assessing and re-evaluating the situation for changes.

It's where you lose to him. You get too honed in and narrow minded, your eyes too focused on the prize in front of you. Your mind always too occupied with thoughts of winning the battle while Santiago has his eye on the horizon to emerge victorious from the war.

In front of him, Santiago's hand comes to your cheek cupping you gently as he pulls you off Frankie's cock to your confusion.

"So good for us. You wanna claim your prize hmm?" Santiago murmurs in your ear ominously.

With one arm wrapped around your front, the man lifts you up and guides you to your feet. Then he's maneuvering you onto the bed, arranging you to his liking until you're sat in Frankie's lap.

He curls his fingers around Frankie's cock, like it's a trophy for you to claim and guides Frankie to your slick and waiting entrance, until the blunt tip is nudging against your wet clit.

That clever hand steady at the small of your back, in a steady but firm pace until the entirety of Frankie's cock is fully sheathed inside you.

Fuck.

You feel so fucking good. Warm, slick and so fucking perfect. Frankie thinks he's going to lose his mind with it.

His brain cells are melting with pleasure inside his skull and he can barely pay enough attention with the way you're clutched so tightly around his cock to register that Santiago isn't next to you anymore. He's gone off somewhere, fuck knows where, as Frankie palms the soft curves of your hips to press you firmly down on him, pushing as deep as he goes.

Frankie can't stop long enough to think much else, except for the sweet pace that you're rocking forward on his cock with. He's lost in it. Drunk and inebriated on the way you feel in his arms as he rocks you up and down on his cock that he barely even notices when Santiago's back again.

This time with a bottle of lube in his hand and a shit-eating grin on his face.

Of course, that's where the clever bastard went.

"San--" you start, but your voice is cut off at the long drag of Frankie's cock inside of you as he thrusts up again.

Santiago's smile spreads even wider, predatory. "What sweetheart? Don't you want your reward?"

Frankie can hear the click of the bottle, two seconds before he registers the way that Santiago's hand slips between your legs again, and then he fucking feels it. The pressure of Santiago's finger as he presses inside of you, and fuckfuck--shit! It knocks the fucking breath out of Frankie's lungs.

The sound you make is the sweetest fucking thing that Frankie's ever heard. It's needy and desperate. It echoes in his head and he never wants it to stop. Wants to record it so he can replay it a thousand times over.

"You did so well," Santiago says, pressing another kiss to the top of your head. He stills, allowing you to adjust to the new sensation.

"You won the game tonight. Fair and square. I'm just here to give you your hard-earned prize."

Even though Frankie can't see it, he can feel it. The rigid heat of Santiago's cock nudging at your ass, inches from Frankie's cock.

"This good cariño? You want me inside you too hmm? Tell me how you want it," Santiago demands.

But there's no way you can answer the man coherently.

You're an absolute trembling, shaking mess. Can barely form a word and much less a sentence. You just keep nodding, as you keep moving up and down on Frankie's cock with a stuttering "ye-yes."

And that's not enough for the bastard

"Yes what, sweetheart?" Santiago teases.

You sob, knowing fully well you won't be able to give Santiago what he wants in this state.

But he doesn't ease up. "Try again," he says.

"Both," you try, struggling. The word panting and out of breath. "I want-- f-fuck!" It's such a high pitched sound, you practically sound like a damned squeaky to. "Please, please," you cry, tears brimming in your eyes.

That smug bastard likes that, smiling and humming as he rubs the side of his jaw along the back of your neck, scraping his prickly five o' clock shadow against your soft skin until goose bumps form in its wake.

"Ple--please, San--I want--"

"Greedy girl," Santiago rasps out. He moves back for a brief moment, and you squeak in alarm that he's gonna leave. Instead he thrusts forward and fuck, fuckFUCK!

Shit. Frankie can't breathe.

There are bright sparks in his vision. Blood rushes to his head and for a moment Frankie isn't sure if he's going blind or having a seizure.

It's electrifying, a sweet burn that zips through Frankie's spine.

The blood thrashes and swirls inside his ears. It makes every noise around him distorted, like he's under water and drowning in you.

In the far off distance, he thinks he can hear Santiago groan brokenly against your skin. Whatever bravado was there before is all but gone in his voice now.

You're so fucking tight. He can feel Santiago through you. Can feel the way your perfect cunt is clutching onto every inch of his cock... and Santiago's not even all the way inside yet.

He doesn't know if you can fit more. Everything feels tight and overwrought and so so so much. His brain is so overloaded on sensation, it takes him a second to register that both him and Santiago have stopped moving.

None of you are speaking, and Santiago isn't teasing anymore, seemingly at loss of words now.

Santiago hisses out a breath between gritted teeth. His fingers gripping into your hips until it dents the soft flesh as the man tries to hold on by his literal fingernails.

"Fuck sweetheart, you're so tight. Relax for me okay?"

And you're trying to. Frankie can tell that much. You really are. It's not like you're doing this on purpose. It's real fucking easy for Santiago to ask you to relax when Santiago's never had to try to fit two cocks inside his body.

On top of that, while Frankie's never liked to brag, he's self-aware enough to know his own size and how he's a lot to take.

Frankie's hand comes to the small of your back, stroking it to provide you with comfort in the best way he can manage in the circumstances.

"It's ok baby, it's okay. We got you," Frankie murmurs against your skin.

Behind you, Santiago's eyes are squeezed tightly shut. An expression of bliss and torture all blended together. "I'll go slow," he chokes out. "I always do don't I? Let me open you up and make you feel good,"

His voice has gone sweet and indulgent. There's nothing mocking about it now. Just pure unadulterated fondness.

Whatever game he was playing before has ended now. Frankie knows that all Santiago wants in this moment is for you to feel good.

But you're too out of it to notice Santiago's defeat and your own outright victory.

You crane your head back towards Santiago with an indignant glare, no doubt to start off what will be a round of bickering between you and the man.

And that's the last thing Frankie wants in this moment, for either of you.

And maybe Frankie's an opportunist too. Maybe he's just as bad as Santiago. Because he quickly cups your cheek, guiding you back towards his lips to cut off any words you might have for Santiago.

His other hand, moves down to the front of your stomach, sliding his palm down along the inside of your thighs until his fingers can draw along the wetness of your folds, pressing light circles against your clit.

You try to escape it, oversensitive and overstimulated. You try to press back only to be met by Santiago's firm chest caging you in, pushing you forward and back into Frankie hand.

You shake and spasm in between them. Tears brimming in the wet sheen of your eyes.

Frankie's barely done anything to you and, god you're already close somehow.

He can feel it. The rise in the pace of your breathing, the thrum of your heart beating against your chest like your very heart is trying to escape from your ribcage as your impending climax builds and builds and builds from within you.

You come with a defeated whimper into his mouth. To Santiago's rasped groan in your ear and Frankie's low moan into your mouth. Your orgasm cascades over you as you shiver in his arms and squeeze tightly around them both.

Everything is a pleasant buzz thrumming in his veins as he can sense how all of you are unwinding. Your body melting in his arms, pressed between him and Santiago as you are.

They let you recover. Let you calm down. The only movement between them, is Santiago lips dragging against your hairline fondly as if to console you.

"That good baby? Think you ready for us now?" Frankie asks.

You're still swimming in the afterwaves of your pleasure, but you nod drowsily in reply.

Santiago continues to press open mouth kisses against your cheek and jaw, before he moves back to give you space.

You whine, a little bit panicked at the sudden movement. Your hand clings onto Santiago's wrist and the man immediately stills for you.

"Stay," you plead.

"Not going anywhere sweetheart," Santiago says, there's no hint of teasing this time. No lingering bluster of pride or a need to one up you.

"I'm staying right here."

It's soft and loving.

The very same tone in his voice he held when he was gazing out at the rain on the balcony.

Frankie had a hard time placing it when he heard it the first time, but he recognizes it for what it is now.

Contentment... It's a tone so foreign on Santiago but it suits him so well. If he can, then for the rest of his life Frankie wants to make sure the man gets to keep it.

Raising one hand to the back of Santiago's neck, Frankie cups his hand over the old-worn surgery scar as he reels the man closer and seals his mouth over Santiago's.

His lips are soft and pliant against Frankie's own. Then his mouth parts with a sweet little hum that sounds all too similar to the gorgeous whines you've been making all evening.

Outside the rain doesn't stop. It rains for the whole of that week.

But Santiago was right. There are worse things in the world than being cooped up in a room with the two people you love the most.

I don’t have a tag list. 😅 Please follow astroboot-writes and turn on notifications for writing updates! 🥰

Author's note: We're baaaaaaaack! I know it's been a hot minute since we got some proper porn with these three! It's also the first time in months I've written proper porn so I may be rusty. Thank you for your patience everyone while I was off lusting for tall spidermen.

#pedro pascal #oscar isaac #triple frontier #triple frontier fic #triple frontier fanfic #triple frontier fanfiction #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x reader x frankie morales

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ryin-silverfish · 7 months ago

Text

Headcanon: Dragons of the Four Seas

(inspired by a recent discussion with @the-monkey-ruler)

-Although Chinese dragons are water deities, there are dragons who control stuff other than water: Cold Dragons under the Dragon King of the North can freeze stuff, and Bailong Ma used to be a Fire Dragon in pre-novel variants of JTTW.

"Wouldn't it be interesting if the four major lineage of dragons all have their unique side-power, apart from water and weather manipulation?"

-It starts off as this, then spins out of control and becomes one giant worldbuilding exercise.

East Sea:

-The eastern direction is traditionally associated with the Wood element. However, I feel like plant manipulation will be too obvious.

-So instead, they are the master of Thunder and Wind——the trigrams that represent these two things, Zhen and Xun, are both Wood-aligned.

-Their lightning has a notable azure hue, and have adapted the force of Thunder specifically for underwater usage, creating highly potent sonic blasts as well as what basically amount to a sonar spell.

-They kinda consider themselves the archetypal dragon, representative of their kind, and certainly have the attitude to match.

-Like, they claim to be descended from the Azure Dragon of the East, even though the idea that a Divine Beast of the Four Directions, stellar guardian of the entire eastern section of the sky, can reproduce is...dubious at best.

-Don't you mention the time Ao Guang got bullied by Wukong. Or Nezha. Or Huaguang. Or the Eight Immortals. They are very touchy about that. Violently touchy.

-They also have close relations with water-dwelling Yakshas, who act as a sort of elite mercenaries in their military campaigns against other seaborn demons and rogue flood dragons.

-Basically, the proud generals of dragonkind, with a vast weapon collection to match. The dragon king's family also name their kids after Celestial Stems and Earthly Branches, much like the ancient Shang dynasty rulers.

-The East Sea dragons are the only lineage who has an official representative of the Celestial Host stationed in their territory, who's only known by his title, the "Water-dividing General of the East Sea".

-He seems to be an older sort of god, the half-man, half-beast ones who look like they walk out of an illustration of the Book of Mountains and Seas.

-Most of the time, he takes the form of a seal, lounging around on rocks and watching sunrises, and has the personality of a sarcastic old man.

-Whether he's here to keep an eye on them, or they are supposed to keep an eye on him, no one can say. Ao Guang certainly treats him like an old acquaintance, though.

West Sea:

-They are a bit tricky. West is associated with Metal, and the two Metal-aligned trigrams, Qian and Dui, represent Heaven and Marsh...which don't neatly map onto weather and natural phenomena.

-Then I had an idea. What if they have a natural affinity for heavenly bodies? In ancient times, the movements of stars are believed to affect weather, after all, not to mention the sun and the moon.

-This affinity can be figurative——their lineage has a strong relationship with the stellar deities of the 28 Lunar Mansion and Dipper Mansion——or literal.

-Like a natural talent for divination and astrology, predicting the future from the patterns of stars. They are no governors of fate, unlike the actual Star Lords, they are just fate's weather forecast guy.

-This puts them in an awkward position, though: the stellar gods act according to the Jade Emperor's orders, some of which are very much secret and beyond their clearance levels, but the best scions of the West Sea can just infer it from the movement of stars alone.

-Which makes them obsessed with proving their loyalty, as well as enforcing a draconian standard of secrecy, just so they wouldn't get into trouble for knowing something they weren't supposed to know.

-Even more rarely, they can harness the power of astral light. Most of the time, such light is of lunar nature——Star Lord Taiyin also holds sway over the ocean's tides, though it is an easily forgotten power.

-But sometimes, that light comes from a fiery, lively, or ominous star, and the power that results is just as temperamental as their stellar origins.

-Enters Ao Lie, Third Prince of the West Sea, who has highly potent fire powers despite not being a South Sea dragon, and became the subject of some rather tasteless gossips about his parentage the moment it awakened.

-All dragons love their pearls: it's kinda like an ordinary yaoguai's "inner core", an orb of solidified Qi that can be spit out and store separately from the body, but much more powerful and culturally significant.

-Well, the West Sea dragons use their pearls in the same way a Feng Shui master uses their geomantic compass, or a Zhou Yi diviner, their turtle shell and copper coins. The ones left behind by venerable ancestors are especially treasured, believed to lead to clearer insights and more reliable readings.

-Through that lens, Ao Lie's burning of one such pearl is the equivalent of descrating the dead + destroying a priceless, irreplacable supercomputer.

-Intentional or not, to a lineage that is so serious about their discipline, taboos, and absolute loyalty to the Celestial Host, it is enough to warrant death.

-To no one's surprise, they are the diplomats, the inter-department coordinators when it comes to weatherly business. Not just between relevant celestial bureaus like the Thunder and Water Bureaus, but also between local dragon kings of rivers and lakes.

-As a result, the West Sea lineage is the most open to marrying non-oceanic dragons, even though these are often out of practical and political needs.

-That's my explanation for why, in JTTW, Ao Run's nine nephews either guard rivers or work for JE/the Buddha. The West Sea lineage has really turned nepotism into an art form.

North Sea:

-In JTTW, we know that they have Cold Dragons that can chill stuff. It is certainly not too much of a stretch to imagine them as the ice-and-snow specialists, the ones you summon when you are sick of the heat or need to insta-freeze something.

-Historically, the "North Sea" in Chinese texts refer to Lake Baikal. However, I think it is cooler if their palace is literally in the arctic zone, under the ice caps.

-Instead of garden-variety shrimp and crab soldiers, they have lots of cultivated marine mammals. And elite legions of belugas and narwhals and bowhead whales.

-The smallest and most isolationist lineage also carries the grimest duty, as border patrols and prison wardens. Not only is the North Sea a hotspot of rifts that lead to the Underworld, it also conceals the portal to the Evil-Vanquishing Mansion of the North Pole——realm of Emperor Zhenwu, Lord of the North.

-Kind of like the Lord Father of the East and Queen Mother of the West, he is the sovereign of the northern direction and the Water element, as well as the direct superior of Xuanwu, one of the Four Divine Beasts.

-And his job? Subduing demons. The Evil-Vanquishing Mansion is basically a fleet of giant, hollowed-out icebergs, packed to the brim with powerful demons, ghosts, and rogue immortals.

-Any prisoners that make an unlikely escape will emerge into the North Sea, where the vigilant army of the dragon king awaits. However, that is not their main duty; it is the Eye of the North Sea that they swear to eternally guard.

-And the prisoner of the Eye is none other than Shen Gongbao, the infamous traitor of the Chan Sect who was behind most major conflicts in the War of Investiture.

-It was said that, though his body was stuffed into the Eye of the North Sea as punishment, in the end, his soul still gets deified as a minor water god.

-However, if there is only a mindless body left in there, why the need for such heavy security? Only the most experienced elders and veterans are allowed to go into the Eye's vicinity to check on Yuanshi Tianzun's seals, and repeated visit by the same people is strictly prohibited.

-Perhaps, instead of a split of soul and body, deification has split the soul itself: one half is exorcised of all the undesirable qualities, the other left to stew and simmer in them until it mutates into something unrecognizable.

-Such is the rumor among the North Sea's younger scions. But folks will make up anything to pass the time in those long, cold arctic nights, and whatever the truth is, it doesn't matter, as long as the seal still holds.

South Sea:

-Their element, Fire, is directly opposite to the North Sea's; much like the Cold Dragons, the Fire Dragons of the South Sea are heat specialists, creators of droughts and wildfires as well as bringers of warm winds.

-And their fire is a peculiar variant of Earthly Fire. Unlike Heavenly Fires, which draw from the blaze of the Three-legged Sun Crow, or the True Fires immortals used in internal alchemy, Fire Dragons channel the power of earth's flaming veins: that is, undersea volcanos and thermal vents.

-Though they usually display their power in less flashy ways——steam clouds, a playful whiff of sulfur, a blast of warm wind on a winter night, a Fire Dragon fully on the offensive is just like a mini live volcano, unleashing streams of magma and scalding smoke clouds.

-When dragons are mentioned as one of the Eight Classes of Demigods in Buddhism, more often than not, they are from the South Sea lineage.

-Like, the most popular Bodhisattva in Asia, Guanyin, resides in the South Sea. It's all but granted that the local dragons would also be heavily influenced by Buddhist teachings, in the same way their northern kins are drawn to the entourage of Zhenwu.

-Fun fact: the imagery of dragons has appeared in Chinese art since the Neolithic period, but the specific worship of dragons as gods of the Four Seas is a result of Buddhist influence.

-Prior to that, the gods of the Four Seas in the Book of Mountains and Seas are all beasts with human faces, wearing snakes as earrings or standing on a snake.

-And in Sui-Tang era works, some variants merged the Four Seas gods with the Four Directions gods of ancient times, and said that the god of the South Sea was Zhurong.

-A.k.a. the fire god that defeated Gonggong (in the most well-known version of the tale), who, being the sore loser he is, went and knocked over the sky support pillar with his head. Thus, Nvwa's patching of the sky.

-Legends of the South Sea lineage claim that the Fire Dragons draw their power from Zhurong's embers, and their king is descended from the two dragon mounts of the primodial fire god.

-To the outrage of more traditionalist dragons, they often intermarry with Nagas, the serpentine water gods of the Western Lands. Guanyin's dragon girl attendant is born of one such union, between the Naga lord Sagara and a princess of the South Sea.

-Their palace is located inside an underwater volcano, said to be the remnant of Zhurong's great forge. Giant tube worm gardening is a popular hobby among the South Sea nobility; however peculiar it may appear to outsiders, these colorful creatures thrive in the union of Fire and Water, much like the lineage itself.

(Pictures of the Four Dragon Kings come from Nezha 1979.)

(The animated film makes the dragon king of the West a black dragon, and the North, a white one, a reversal of the colors traditionally associated with the two directions——West = White, North = Black.）

#journey to the west #investiture of the gods #chinese dragons #worldbuilding #chinese mythology #headcanon

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jplupine · 1 year ago

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Primal Pred!Grimmjow x Prey!Reader

Pairing: Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez x AFAB Reader Word Count: ~4.6k Date Published: Nov 25, 2023 WARNINGS: 18+ Minors/Ageless get blocked, Exophilia, Established Relationship, Size Difference, Primal Play, Marking, Light Blood/Injury, Cunnilingus, Outdoor Sex, Feral Behavior, Name Calling [Asshole, Bitch, Kitty Cat], Creampie, Brat!Reader; Reader is AFAB but no gender is specified, Terms such as pussy/cock/dick/etc. get used

A/N: The follower milestone fic is finally finished! I want to thank everyone who participated in the event and everyone kindly supporting me ^-^ <3

The crackling fire danced in the pit surrounded by pale stones. The shadows swayed with the light flickering shades of orange and white. Insects of the night called out their chorus from the darkness beyond the fire.

You sat on a log with your fingers wrapped around a warm cup of coffee. It wasn't quite the same as what you brewed at home, but it did add a bit of comfort as you sipped it. The atmosphere was relaxing and made you glad you'd decided to go on a camping trip to get away from the bustle of work and city life.

The dark night sky littered with glittering stars and the moon shining bright were so unlike the sky hidden by street lights back home. It was breathtaking.

And given it was still in the transition time between summer and autumn, it wasn't too warm nor too cold out. You'd checked the weather forecast before heading out into the woods too, and it was supposed to remain like this for the next few days you were out there.

An owl screeched in the distance before a stick in the fire snapped, sending embers up into the night sky as if they were trying to join the stars.

You closed your eyes to just listen to the world around you; soaking it in while bringing the coffee to your lips. No sound of speeding cars. No foul smells from rotting garbage or fumes from exhaust pipes. And certainly no manager or boss nagging about work.

It was bliss.

You sighed and opened your eyes again. Glancing around, you began to wonder where your camping partner was. He'd gone off to stretch his legs, but that had been some time ago now.

Looking into the shadows of the trees, you tried to see if you could spot him. You weren't all that worried since you knew he could take care of himself, but that didn't stop you from wondering when he'd come back. Taking another drink of your coffee, you stretched out your legs in front of you.

However, as the fire popped and crackled, the woods began to feel different. The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as unease began to settle in. Something was wrong, but you couldn't tell what.

Your heart began to beat faster as you sensed something you couldn't see.

A low, thunderous rumble shook the air and made you jolt. It was hard to tell where the sound was coming from with how it bounced through the trees surrounding your campsite.

Sitting up straight with your eyes darting around, you still didn't see anything. It sounded like an animal; big and dangerous. Slowly setting down your coffee, you reached into your pocket to grab your knife.

It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing as the blade flipped out from the handle. Gradually rising to your feet, your grip on the knife tightened while your heart was pounding.

You could feel eyes on you. Whatever the beast was, it was certainly watching you. Swallowing, you hoped the fire was enough to keep the thing in the shadows.

Hearing a twig snap, your gaze shot in the direction of the sound. Eyes reflecting the fire's light shined from the darkness. Another rumbling growl came from the same direction as the eyes, and your heart beat faster.

The eyes went lower, and you had a feeling the beast was getting ready to pounce. Brandishing your knife, the creature in the shadows seemed to hesitate as light shined against the blade. The eyes in the dark locked with yours before there was a loud rush of wind.

The fire was blown out, leaving you surrounded in complete darkness until your eyes could adjust. You couldn't yet see but heard movement ahead of you.

The beast was closing in.

You ran and nearly tripped over the log if you hadn't caught yourself from falling. As you ran, your eyes became more accustomed to the night, allowing you to run through the trees faster. A roar that shook you to the bone silenced the rest of the woods, sending the other creatures into hiding to avoid getting caught.

With your heart loudly pounding in your own ears, you nearly screamed when something grabbed your shoulder only to swing the knife instead. You felt the blade make contact before the beast roared. Everything happened so fast that you only saw a flash of fangs in the moonlight and claws before the knife was sent flying out of your hand. You heard it thunk as the blade was buried deep into a tree trunk.

You didn't think twice, going into survival mode to run even faster.

"Bitch!" A barked, angry voice made you nearly stumble. No, you must have misheard. You still didn't stop. When a fallen tree blocked your path, you vaulted over it and hoped it would deter the beast.

However, as your legs carried you further, you could still feel the thing behind you, chasing you. What made it more terrifying were the sounds; the growling and snapping of sharp teeth like the razor point edges of scissors grinding against each other.

You knew it was getting closer and were already picturing in your head how it would tear you apart once it caught you.

You were grabbed from behind, getting jerked back by your jacket. Crying out from shock, you struggled and unzipped your jacket to slip out of the garment. The beast held onto the jacket as you scrambled away and managed to get distance.

Looking back, you saw the creature as it stood a few yards away. Its body was lean and pale with a long tail whipping around behind it. It was bipedal with muscled limbs and long hair past their waistline. And your jacket was clutched in its hands while being pressed against the beast's face.

When it looked at you, your breath caught in your throat. Those glowing eyes were set in a face that was all too human.

It wasn't an animal. It wasn't human, either.

"Grimmjow! You scared the shit out of me, you fucking asshole!"

"I know. I can smell it." His face then lifted from your jacket with a displeased expression. "And you cut me, fucker." Grimmjow's low voice growled, and your eyes drifted to his cheek where there was dried blood but no wound.

"It's already healed, you big baby." You retorted with a huff. His tail twitched as his gaze traveled over your face. Grimmjow's lips curled up into a vicious grin with his fangs exposed.

"Why are you still standing all the way over there? Aw, are you mad?" His tone was mocking, and your hands balled into fists at your sides.

"Yes, I'm mad!" You angrily pointed at the Arrancar without taking a step closer. "You made me think I was about to get eaten!"

"I mean," Grimmjow cocked his head to the side as his ears perked up. His slit pupils widened a slight fraction, eyelids lowering just a bit as he looked over your body. "I never said I wasn't going to eat you."

His tone and hungry gaze sparked something deep in your gut. Grimmjow's tail curled as he shifted his weight on his digitigrade legs, his paws so quiet when he took a step closer. You took a step back, maintaining the distance between you two.

Grimmjow stopped to look at you again as the hunger in his eyes intensified. He slowly licked his lips like a beast would its maw.

You knew the Arrancar well enough by now to recognize when the predator within him was stirring. You also knew if you made any sudden movement, he just might pounce and take you down like prey.

The air felt electrified as you two just stared at one another, eyes locked as unspoken words lingered at the forefront of your mind. Grimmjow brought your jacket to his face again, making a show of inhaling your scent with a soft purr rumbling in his chest.

You still didn't move. The Arrancar was on a precarious edge, and you weren't entirely sure what he would do next.

Grimmjow suddenly threw your jacket to the side and lunged forward. You reacted as soon as you saw him move, turning to run as he landed where you had been standing just a second prior. He was on his hands and paws like a beast, watching you as you went around a tree.

His instincts made his blood run hot through his veins, and you could feel those piercing eyes trailing after you. You'd set off the predator and ran like prey.

The hunt was on.

The bestial call that rang out through the trees made your heart beat faster as you weaved through the trees. Excitement and fear mingled together and fueled your legs to carry you further. Not knowing what he might do if he caught you had your mind racing with the possibilities.

Skidding around a boulder, you changed directions. Running in a straight line would make it easier for Grimmjow to track you down, and you didn't want that.

You'd learned to shift your weight and posture to make your steps quieter over the ground littered with dead leaves and did so now. You were going to do everything within your power to make this as difficult as possible for Grimmjow.

Grabbing your beanie, you rubbed it against your neck to make your scent on it stronger before you threw it into the bushes. You went in the opposite direction in the hopes of confusing Grimmjow even if just for a moment.

Panting, you hid behind a large tree surrounded by plants tall enough to cover you as you crouched. Leaning one hand against the trunk of the tree, you tried to catch your breath. Hearing a growl in the distance made you smirk.

Going lower, you pressed your body down against the earth to look out from under the foliage without giving your position away. The moon and stars cutting through the trees gave you enough light to see beyond where you were hidden.

Taking slow, deep breaths, your eyes scanned the woods. Far away, you spotted movement. Through the trees, you could see Grimmjow as spots of moonlight danced over his body.

The Arrancar was still on his hands and paws, muscles rolling beneath his skin-tight clothing as his movements were reminiscent of a big cat. His tail swayed with his head held level with his spine and nose twitching as he scented the air.

Watching him thrilled you. He was neither man nor beast and didn't care about keeping up appearances of either, and you liked that. You liked how he could posture and smirk like a man, and you also liked how he would act like an animal as he pursued you.

It certainly appealed to a primal part of your brain in a way you didn't fully understand. You should be terrified of his power and destructive capabilities, but seeing how his feral eyes and silky hair shined in the moonlight as he crouched left you enamored.

With Grimmjow crouching where he was, you could see the muscles in his thighs bunching beneath his clothes. You covered your mouth and nose to muffle the sound of your breathing as his furry ears began to swivel. He was listening to the woods around him, picking up sounds in several directions that his ears moved in.

His eyes closed with his head tilting back. Grimmjow's fingers flexed with his daunting claws catching the moonlight. His head then rolled to the side, his eyes snapping open as he looked right at you with a grin.

Your hair stood on end as the predator twisted and moved in your direction. Scrambling to your feet, you kicked up leaves and dirt before bolting to keep the chase going.

You ran faster even as your muscles and lungs burned. Grimmjow roared, letting you know that he was closing the distance and fast.

Something caught your foot, sending you tumbling across the ground right as the beast went flying overhead. Tripping over a root had saved you from being caught again.

Grimmjow landed ahead of you and twisted with claws digging into the earth. Locking eyes with him as you pushed yourself up, your fingers sank into the soil beneath you. His tail whipped from side to side as you both were in similar positions on all fours, waiting for one or the other to make a move.

You couldn't look away, panting as you tried to think of what to do next. Grimmjow's slit pupils widened as his top lip curled to bare a mouth full of fangs with a maniacal grin.

He made the first move, lunging forward with a flex of his thighs and biceps. You reared back in an attempt to get away only to fail. He was faster, but you weren't giving up so easily.

Grabbing a nearby fallen branch, you swung it like a bat and hit him across the face. He reared back with a vicious yowl while flashing his fangs. When his head swung back down, you used the branch to keep those sharp teeth away from you, already knowing how much of a biter the bastard was.

His growling vibrated through the branch and up your arms as his fangs sank into the wood. Claws tore through the sleeves of your shirt as you struggled to get him off you. He was so strong, keeping you trapped like a mouse beneath him.

Your pounding heart sent adrenalin rushing through your veins while you watched his long canines vanish into the branch as it creaked from the force of his jaws. His bite was powerful enough to break through the wood and sent a rain of splinters falling over you.

His big hands grabbed your wrists and pinned them against the ground by your head. Kicking against the ground, you still fought to get free only to fail. His fangs snapped right in front of your face as you screamed, sounding more angry than afraid.

"Got ya." Grimmjow sounded amused, but you snarled and moved to punch him. However, his strength was far greater than yours, keeping your hands firmly against the ground. "Mm, yeah. Keep struggling. I like it when my prey puts up a fight."

He was mocking you, but you knew he was telling the truth all the same. Perhaps it was a part of the Hollow nature within Grimmjow that made him enjoy subduing you in such a way. It was domination through force when you put up a fight and didn't let him have you so easily.

And this appealed to you as well. While you couldn't fight back the way another Hollow might, you also knew you didn't have to hold back as much with him not being human.

Locking your legs around his waist, you twisted to switch your positions. Grimmjow fell on his back while still holding your wrists. The momentum kept going as you both rolled across the ground with him snarling and growling.

You managed to wrench one hand free and grabbed the folded collar around most of his neck to yank it back. More of his scarred chest was exposed along with part of his shoulder and the side of his neck, and you sank your teeth into the muscle now bared. Claws tore through the side of your shirt as Grimmjow yowled.

He roughly forced you onto your stomach, using his weight against your back to pin you down as he fisted your hair and made you bare the back of your neck. His breath was hot against your skin before his fangs scraped over your neck, causing goosebumps to rise even as he bit down. Grimmjow ground his hips against your ass as his chest rumbled.

He had you now. With his sharp teeth clamped against your neck hard enough to cause small beads of blood to form, there was no more getting away. His erection pressed against you through the layers of clothes you both wore, letting you know just how worked up the Arrancar had gotten.

You knew Grimmjow could smell your arousal and could hear the quick beating of your heart. Those two things in combination never failed to drive his instincts wild.

His warm tongue lapped up the blood from the back of your neck as he purred. The sound of ripping fabric met your ears before you realized he was tearing through your shirt.

"Grimmjow!" You snapped at him, but the garment was already ruined and being shoved over your shoulders. You didn't actually mind it; the action aroused you more, but you didn't want to give in just yet.

"Pick your next words carefully." His voice was breathy with a warning tone as he spoke near your ear. His hands went down your sides to roughly grab the waistband of your jeans.

"Or what? You'll bite me again?" You spoke while lifting your hips to push your ass against him more. "Try me, fucker." Getting your hands under you, you managed to undo the button and zipper of your pants, but Grimmjow tore his claws through the material while shoving it down over your ass and legs.

You kicked off your shoes to let him take the last shreds of your pants off. They were tossed to the side without a care. Grimmjow then grabbed your hips to lift your ass higher into the air as you pushed your underwear down before he could get his claws on them.

Grimmjow's hands went lower, spreading you open before eagerly burying his face between your thighs. His tongue lapped up your arousal with a low groan. Your breath faltered as you spread your knees further.

You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth when his tongue dragged over your clit. His fangs brushed against your flesh as he pulled you closer to his hungry mouth. Grimmjow's claws pricked your skin before he let go.

His lips and tongue were still on you, and based on his movement, you assumed he was undressing while still eating your pussy. You took in a sharp breath when he growled and the vibration was carried on his tongue. Your hips rocked back to chase the feeling, and Grimmjow grabbed your ass and squeezed.

He was ravenous with his claws pricking your skin. By now, he knew what made you feel good and what could make you elicit the very sounds he wanted to hear. His growl shook you to the bone as wet sounds came from between your thighs.

You were panting when his broad tongue swiped over your core before he pulled away. Grimmjow spit, his saliva landing on your pussy as your clit throbbed.

One of his large hands grabbed your head to pin it against the ground, pressing your cheek into the dirt as the head of his cock slid between your wet lips. He mixed his spit in with your arousal while slicking up his dick. You could tell the Arrancar was eager from his unsteady breaths and his grip on you.

When he finally pushed inside, you felt yourself stretching to accommodate his thickness. Grimmjow didn't go slow, thrusting deep until his hips hit your ass. You both grunted as your hands balled into fists.

Looking over your shoulder, your gaze met Grimmjow's. Something in your eyes made his tail twitch.

"You're being awfully impatient, kitty cat. You really that needy for me?" Your words made his nose scrunch up with a snarl. You had yet to truly submit to him even if your body had.

Grimmjow fisted his hand in your hair, tugging on it to pull your head back and make you incapable of looking at him. His other hand grabbed your hip with his claws digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks. Without warning, he pulled out and thrust back in harshly, forcing a low moan from your throat.

"Who the fuck are you calling kitty cat, bitch?" He growled, but you couldn't respond since he forced another moan from you. You'd pissed him off as intended, and he was going to fuck you into submission.

He'd mistakenly believed the fight was over. Too bad that spark in you was harder to quell and you were certain to give the Arrancar attitude. He may have caught you, but he needed to earn your submission.

Grimmjow let go of your hair to hold both of your hips, his heavy thrusts slamming his hips into your ass hard enough that you could feel the jiggle of your flesh. He was an animal pinning you in place as your mind swam with pleasure.

You were moaning, crying out into the night as he grunted and drove his cock deeper.

"Listen to you." You could hear the smile in his voice. "Now who's the needy one?" You didn't trust your voice enough to verbally respond and settled on raising your middle finger. Grimmjow then went for your throat, wrapping his big arms around you while forcing you to lay flat against the ground with his large hand curled around your neck.

He still rutted against you as his hot breath hit the side of your head. This position meant he couldn't go as deep as before, but the angle had his cock ramming into the perfect spot to make you buck and writhe. Grimmjow chuckled as you struggled to contain yourself beneath him.

"That's it." His voice rumbled near your ear before his firm grip on your neck tilted your head up. "Submit to your king." Your moan pitched higher as your eyes fluttered closed. His lips and teeth brushed against the shell of your ear as he panted, making you shiver.

His grip on your throat tightened but remained loose enough that you could still freely moan. Grimmjow wanted to hear you cry out, every moan a form of worship that stroked his ego. He knew with how pliant you were in his hands now that you had given over control and submitted.

You felt the sweat forming on your skin as fire burned through your veins. Grimmjow's heat and weight on your back made your head spin as the pleasure made you buck. He grabbed one of your wrists and pinned it to the ground, exerting more control over your body as you bent to his will.

Being trapped beneath him, you took whatever he gave with enthusiasm. Each heavy thrust made you fall deeper into the pit of pleasure. Grimmjow's mouth moved to the back of your neck again, licking the bite he'd already left while nipping in other places.

Your voice shook as your toes curled, and the deep groan the Arrancar made was bordering a growl. You panted curses under your breath as Grimmjow fucked you, ramming his cock into the spot that lit your nerves aflame and made you cry out his name.

Grimmjow ran his tongue over the bites littering your skin as he savored every sound you made. How you clenched around him drove him further toward the edge. His strong grip on your throat with his claws scraping against your skin only fueled your desire.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air. Grimmjow's growls mingled with your moans and carried through the trees and into the darkness of the woods. He buried his face into your hair, inhaling your scent and groaning low with his hips grinding against your ass. His dick dragged against your walls, rubbing against every spot that made you squirm and gasp and moan.

The carnality was bliss. You gave yourself to him completely, leaning into his touch while your spine arched from the pleasure wracking through your body. Grimmjow released your wrist and throat to grab your hips as his weight on your back pushed you further against the earth.

His claws scraped your skin as his thrusts picked up speed, his balls smacking against you with his frenzied pace. Grimmjow sank his teeth into your shoulder with a groan as your blood coated his tongue. You would always wear his mark so long as you were his.

Grimmjow pistoning into your wet pussy created lewd, slicking sounds that drove him wilder. Your taste, your scent, how you felt around his cock, and how wet you were for him made Grimmjow's head fall into such a primal state of desire. He was drowning in you and unable to come up for air until he could cum.

So he fucked you harder, chasing that high and that feral instinct screaming in his veins to fill you with his seed. Claiming his prey in every way he could left both of you unable to think straight. You were drooling with your fingers digging into the dirt, muscles tensing and rolling beneath your skin.

Your bodies being flush against each other meant everything was felt. Every twitch, every heartbeat, every sound that vibrated from the chest and throat.

Grimmjow left scratches over your hips as he tried to pull you even closer. It was impossible, but that didn't stop his pleasure-clouded mind from telling him he needed to. He moaned into your skin while thrusting his cock as deep as he could go.

You cried out with your thighs shivering, and that was the final thing that made Grimmjow snap. With shallow thrusts and animalistic grunts, his cock began to twitch while pumping you full of his cum. He didn't stop, continuing to fuck you through his orgasm and drive his seed deeper into your core even as it overflowed and dripped down your thighs.

Grimmjow released your shoulder from his jaws, groaning and licking the bite while his cum mixed with your arousal. He let go of one hip and slipped his hand under you to find your clit. Being mindful of his claws, he pressed his fingertips against the throbbing bud.

You bucked and moaned an octave higher. Grimmjow let go of your other hip to grab your jaw and make you turn your head for a kiss. His tongue dove into your mouth without warning and glided across yours as he devoured your moans. He soon had you cumming around his cock as you clenched and cried out in pleasure.

He didn't stop until you were whimpering and dancing on the line of overstimulation. He pulled away with his nose brushing through your hair before his lips traveled down your spine with kisses and gentle nips as he purred. You propped your upper half up on your elbows and wiped the drool from your chin.

Your skin still buzzed despite feeling sated. Grimmjow pulled his cock free of your heat and spread you open to see the mess leaking from your pussy. He huffed and gave a satisfied purr that rumbled deep in his chest.

You looked over your shoulder to see Grimmjow admiring you with a smirk on his soft lips and his pupils still blown wide. Biting your bottom lip, you couldn't help but give a sultry smile.

Pushing yourself up, you turned to drape your arms over his shoulders and capture his lips in a hungry kiss. Grimmjow's tail thumped against the ground as he wrapped his arms around you and held you close.

"Maybe next time we should start the hunt naked." You muttered with your lips only centimeters from his. "Jeans are expensive, you know?" Grimmjow chuckled, and his warm palm traveled up your back.

"Yeah. 'Cause you're really so concerned about that." His smirk didn't falter even as he had a sarcastic tone. "I'll hunt you however, my sweet bitch." Grimmjow nipped your bottom lip while purring, and you yelped when his hand smacked against your ass hard enough to make it sting.

#grimmjow jaegerjaquez #bleach smut #bleach #grimmjow smut #bleach fanfic #dom!grimmjow #sub!reader #grimmjow x reader #afab reader #bleach x reader #reader x character #lemon #request the Wolf #Wolf does fanfic

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probablyasocialecologist · 8 months ago

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Veiled by discussion of headline global trends in new renewables capacity investment is the fact that almost all the incremental progress is currently being made in one country: China. Trumpeting 2023’s 50 percent growth in annual global capacity installations as a global achievement is wrongheaded, given that China by itself delivered nearly 80 percent of the increment. And the IEA, for its part, expects China to continue to be the sole meaningful over-achiever. It recently revised upwards by 728 GW its forecast for total global renewables capacity additions in the period 2023–27. China’s share of this upward revision? Almost 90 percent. While China surges ahead, the rest of the world remains stuck. This raises a crucial question. What is different about the development of solar and wind resources in China from the rest of the world? The main answer is that in China, such development is capitalist in only a very limited sense. Certainly, the entities centrally involved in building out new solar and wind farms in China are companies. But almost all are state-owned. Take wind. Nine of the country’s top 10 wind developers are owned by the government, and such state-owned players control in excess of 95 percent of the market. Moreover, the state is far from being a passive shareholder in these companies. The companies are best seen as instruments wielded by the state in the service of achieving its industrial, geopolitical, and – increasingly – environmental objectives. The best example of this concerns the gargantuan ‘clean energy bases’ first announced by President Xi Jinping in 2021. To be built mainly in the Gobi and other desert areas by 2030, these new bases will have a combined capacity of in excess of 550 GW – more than Europe’s total solar and wind capacity at the time of this writing. Such development is as far from ‘capitalist’ as is imaginable. This is the state, in its most centralized and authoritative form mustering whatever resources it needs at its disposal to ensure that it delivers what it has said it will deliver. Add to this the fact that the banks financing all the new renewables development in China are generally also state-owned and directed, and a stark reality comes into focus. This is essentially central planning in action. Does the profit motive figure? To be sure, it does. But usually only marginally, and it is ridden roughshod over whenever Beijing deems fit.

#Brett Christophers #climate change #china #renewable energy #planning

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floripayoga · 6 months ago

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Know The Exact Wind Forecast To Enjoy Water Sports

Check out Floripa's beach vacation packages and holiday packages. Discover beauty by adding relaxation and adventure for the ideal vacation with our carefully chosen offers.

Today we have more than 800 people coming over throughout the season from all over the world, international yoga teachers who come seasonally to share their passions with us and international staff as well.

Read more: https://www.floripa.it/wind-forecast/

#yoga wind forecast in sicily #wind direction forecast in sicily

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kalims · 2 years ago

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⊹ THOSE EYES | malleus draconia

premise. perhaps the universe really wants to keep him in the dark, unintentionally or not being forgotten yet again seems to be a frequent event in his life. parties aren’t for malleus anyways, nor are people.

but when he’s right next to you, a witness to your shine perhaps you’re the one for him.

content. gender neutral reader, fluff

wc. 4k

note. commissioned by faru who wanted to stay anonymous but wanted a nickname instead <3

sorry for being offline for a few. I was working on this hehe

lately, the skies seem gloomy, most people would think that it’s perfectly normal but there’s something oddly familiar about the hue of green beyond the dark, rainy clouds. besides the fact that the rain seems to fall on everyone else but you? your mind can’t help but drift to a certain horned man.

the timing seems appropriate. the weather has been like this plenty of times whenever malleus was in a particular, dejected mood. (you’d know because he’d have that certain tone. quiet and slow. If it wasn’t already obvious you can tell from the exaggerated huffs he emits, which you are starting to get suspicious of that he’s actually making it to get your attention.) speaking of malleus, you haven’t seen him around. not even a glimpse, which is surprising because he’s always trailing after you.

to the dismay of sebek who tried to tell malleus that sticking around a human like you, in his opinion: who apparently didn’t live up to the ‘young masters’ glory would lead to no good.

though you don't know what happened or why, you caught a moment of malleus staring in sebek's direction for a second and the latter immediately shut up and looked away. (presumably in shame? but you can't say.) you never really pondered on it seeing as malleus had whisked you away and distracted you with an easy smile.

you do agree with sebek. malleus' glory is unmatched, even if no one bothers to befriend him everyone notices. his mere presence is so strong that everyone can feel him coming, and when he does they stop and stare. even the gods agree! they seem to want everyone to know that malleus is favored.

amongst.. other means besides social.

he's destined. you don't know why he's referring to you as a ray of light in his darkness when he's practically binding everyone. at some point, his power had reached such a level that his emotions can affect the weather.

it's funny. you think, with such a poker face malleus is really expressive.

the sun seems to illuminate its rays brighter when he's happy, you can see its light even from beyond the clouds covering it. it dims in comparison when he's sad, and right after it loses its color it rains for long periods that the weather forecast was being canceled for not being able to predict it.

you've seen lots of people be a victim of this. be it a student grumbling away, soaking wet from the unexpected pour, or the other crying about their now-wet project.

when he's angry the clouds are darker, and the amount of lightning striking depends on the level of his rage. even you can say that being caught in the middle of it is no good when you're trying to predict where the next one will hit.

but it was strange. this week was chaotic, on monday the sun was blaring all the way to tuesday. you were just glad he seemed to be in a good mood until it started raining around the afternoon of wednesday. it just started pouring so fast out of nowhere that the lightning had actually frightened you because the rain was never accompanied by it.

you've only been in diasomnia a few times.

but.. this time you're quite surprised and it's not because of the beauty of the dorm.

the weather was so stormy that you were afraid you were gonna start flying away. there weren't any students stationed before the bridge. you don't question it because how were they even gonna guard the gates when the wind is gonna be the one breaking it open?

it only meant one thing.

malleus was in the dorm, seeing as the dorm seems to be the core of the storm.

even when you're a little way over the dorm you could still hear sebek's yells. it wasn't like the trudge to the dorm was hard, contrary to your belief the wind only whipped your clothes around like crazy. so you weren't going to get flung anytime soon, your struggle though. was the question of whether you'd be able to hang onto your gift all the way there or not.

because you were holding onto that plastic bag with ice cream in it for dear life—praying that the dessert is the right kind of softness he liked.

the time you found out he liked the dessert was by pure coincidence. you had brought a whole cake in to eat whilst celebrating your birthday together with your friends. you were too distracted talking with one of them to notice the grimace on malleus' face once he took a bite.

you were shocked when he confessed after a while.

… no, not the kind of confession you're thinking about. (even though you'd admit you'd like it to be.)

"why didn't you tell me? ahh... I should have bought another dessert, I knew it. I'm so sorry they already ate the ice cream—"

he cuts you off. "there's no need. it won't hurt." he had said, pausing to add: "if it's for you I can do it."

that night you stayed up late staring off into your ceiling before burying your head in a pillow with a warm face. you didn't have a nightmare or a dream. but his face practically engraved it in your mind till all you could think of was malleus all day.

it was driving you insane!

even when you've reached the front door, sopping wet and dripping all over the front porch all you could think of was the fact that you haven't seen malleus all week. which you didn't really think would bother you if not for the fact that you were wrong in assuming how close you thought both of you were.

again, it was driving you insane as you could tell from the amount of thoughts you have of him.

you'd have to apologize to lilia. you know all about how the man hates getting his porch wet.

"oh my."

oh well. looking like this was definitely not how you wanted to arrive at diasomnia.

lilia casts a curious gaze at you, ears twitching when he takes in your appearance before his lips curve into an easy smirk. you're suspicious that he knows the reason for your sudden arrival. "If I'd known you were coming, I would have sent sebek for you." lilia sighs like a disappointed mother. he gives you a quick smile before looking back and yelling:

"sebek, be a dear and fetch me a towel would you?"

you could vaguely hear a rush of heavy footsteps and you awkwardly just stare until sebek appears carrying a folded towel in his arms. you could emit a sigh if it wasn’t so freezing when sebek's face contorted to that of distaste when he saw you.

lilia with a knowing look merely shook his head. "don't just stand there, will you? we have a guest." he chimes and probably had enough cause he ended up snatching the towel right off the boy's arms.

who actually looked like he felt bad for a second.

lilia ushers you in after drying most of the droplets of water away, so you enter without much complaint. a towel wrapped around your body, over your shoulders. you clutch it like a blanket. looking around trying to look subtle.

this one is looking for him. lilia muses with an amused chuckle. you'd be surprised at how gloomy malleus' mood actually is, that boy had practically washed up the dorm with how long the rainy weather had kept going. lilia knew cater forgetting to invite malleus would have some damper to his mood.

but of course not to the extent.

you have perfect timing. lilia knows malleus considers you dear, perhaps even dearer than him and if lilia can't resolve his mood then you definitely can.

"ah that's right. what brings you to our humble abode?" lilia leads through the halls that lead directly to the main area. you clutch the towel a little tighter. feeling the embarrassment seep through your mind. were you gonna tell him that you all but ran to the nearest convenience store and bought a tub of ice cream for malleus because you figured he was upset?

talk about a test of courage.

you grimace. "I-uhm.. haven't heard from malleus so I got worried."

lilia's face doesn't change from its laid-back nature.

"is he alright, by the way?"

the flicker of surprise in his eyes doesn't go unnoticed by you. "were you at all asim's party, prefect?" he asks, already drawing an answer from your confused face alone. it's not like he already doesn't know, you were nowhere seen at the party after all.

".. no?"

kalim in fact did invite you. but you weren't too fond of the idea when there was a pile of homework from the professors and another one from crowley sitting in ramshackle all alone with no one to do them. so you chose the option that would save you later, and make you suffer currently.

(plus, you did promise to join malleus for a walk since he asked you earlier. but kalim doesn't need to know that, right?)

frankly, you're starting to get concerned with how many times malleus occupies your thoughts.

lilia places his chin in between his fingers with a hum. you listen to him keenly even when he sits you on the couch of the living room. "malleus got invited you see." that was a surprise to you. you smile from ear to ear. that's great for him! but you're expecting a 'but'.

and boy was there one. "but it was rescheduled earlier, you see." he closes his eyes and casts you a closed-eyed smile. for someone whose 'son' had been forgotten, he seems oddly relaxed about it.. and.. wasn't lilia part of the group inviting everyone else?

as if he reads your mind lilia makes sure to say, "cater was the one who said he's got informing malleus all covered. I'm afraid he had forgotten and the party had already finished."

that's pretty.. sad.. no wonder the weather was more extreme than usual. malleus was probably feeling a mixture of sadness and anger.

lilia's eyes drift downwards. and you curse when you realize where he's looking. "what's that you've got there?" somehow every word that comes out of lilia comes out jokingly like he's teasing you.

there was no point in hiding it was there? you sigh and hand over the plastic to lilia who graciously takes it, spares one glance at it, and casts it aside to the table. probably planning to put it in the freezer for later.

it looks like he knows already but you still answer blankly. "ice cream for malleus."

he seems to brighten up after your clear display of intention. good thing sebek had ran back to his room after you stepped foot in the dorm because if he were here right now he probably would have been suspicious and assumed that you'd somehow put something in the ice cream.

"to cheer him up?"

".. yes."

"ah. how sweet. young love never fails to entertain me."

you sputter. "i—that's not.."

a look for lilia is all it takes for you to shut up. he shakes his head with a laugh. "as the youngsters say, 'denial is a river in egypt' do you get it? fufu.. quite funny." he giggles continuously but you can't help but think that he's trying to make a joke. you deadpan. "I do but that's not the point!"

an unfunny joke clearly.

point is your practical son needs some severe cheering up if you just witnessed a tree get struck by lightning a while ago.

from your experience, the tea parties held by heartslabyul is a pretty nice way to unwind.

"does malleus like tea?"

he pauses. "why, yes. he's been raised as a noble after all."

never in your life have you been so stressed. you have to give props for riddle, cause you just found out how hard it is to actually organize a tea party. you don’t even wanna think about what jamil does, you swear he grows a white hair every time kalim throws a party.

nearly all desserts had some kind of association with ice cream, you made sure of it. though you do have to give credit to lilia since the man had graciously let you make use of his fridge to place them there until your scheduled tea party had arrived (honestly saving a bunch of residents from his.. ‘special’ meat.)

you had left sebek the job of informing malleus since you were sure that he was the only person that wouldn’t forget about him. the boy actually approved your choice of who you gave the job to and commended you.

but hey at least he liked it, right?

the guests were.. yet to arrive which is making you anxious because malleus himself was about 1 hour early to his own party.

when he approaches you there’s a clear look of joy. you’d fall over from the small, genuine smile of pureness on his face. you almost forgot to question yourself why in the hell he’s here when the party is scheduled to start in.. one hour.

you sweat. few of the desserts haven’t been taken out of the fridge yet to preserve them! "what.. are you doing here?" you nervously ask but malleus thankfully doesn't seem to mind.

"ah, lilia informed me." his eyes crinkled. "I am very happy to be here."

lilia that bastard.. but wasn't sebek supposed to inform him.. but even if sebek did you're sure that this man would have still shown up early.

now you're wondering what happened to poor sebek. that boy is either angry or devastated.

you find malleus' pure and innocent intentions a little endearing.

ㅤ

lilia stands in front of the door that malleus never really opened. ah that child, even in his absence for dorm leader meetings didn't upset him this much. lilia presumes that he must have looked forward to an invitation he hasn't had in.. a long time.

he raises a hand to knock. once, nothing. twice, nothing. lilia guesses he'll have to use that card.

"malleus dear, the prefect was just by here."

almost immediately there's shuffling behind the door and not a second later it creaks open to show the horned man's curious face. lilia smiles. one mention of you and he already responded.

this is is his non-verbal way of saying: 'where.'

malleus tilts his head and looks past lilia's shoulders, who then shakes his head and gains the former's attention back. "they are not here anymore if it is them who you're looking for."

"ah."

almost immediately he comically deflates, and lilia resists holding a chuckle.

"but they did leave something for you." the shorter male adds.

as if the energy in malleus comes back, he immediately brightens. the child of man left something? for him? oh.. malleus releases a long sigh. his heart could leap out of its chest and start dancing if it could.

although it pains him to leave your side malleus did just that. you could say that he was.. feeling under the weather and he doesn't want to face you in a state where his anger could possibly take over.

he does not know what he'll do if he hurts you.

people like you are a luxury that malleus doesn't often come across. it's not every day that he meets someone who doesn't falter at the sight of him or one whose eyes don't fly to his horns but to his eyes instead.

he wonders if you knew who he was at that time. would it be different? would you have turned and left him in the dust? malleus supposes there's no point in wondering about what could have been when all he wants is right here.

lilia smiles fondly at him. "your favorite. they've left ice cream and an invitation for you."

just like that, all the sadness in malleus pours out like a continuous river never stopping. something warm thumps in his chest and it's all he can hear. it blooms until he can feel it crawl up to his hands and on the tips of his ears. something warm and worthwhile.

then malleus realizes right then and there. why did he spend so much time worrying about it, since when did he care about the view of others? it's not his fault if they forgot. they should have been grateful that they had the privilege to talk so freely with him.

simple things should not strike such a nerve within malleus.

who needs the other people anyways when he's got everything in his hand? it's not like they have someone their entire being beats for.

but you. weren't you just perfect? malleus had never felt happier. "when and where is this invitation of theirs?"

ㅤ

you deadpan. you should have never assumed that lilia wouldn't have heard your words to sebek. the walls of diasomnia have ears of their own after all.

you shake your head. "oh uh.. there's a few people that came early—" for once you're appreciative, cause god it would be awkward if it's only the two of you. you're not sure if it's because you'll be having an inner crisis during it or the lack of guests.

as you can see you definitely weren't all that prepared. you see malleus smile at you from the corner of your eye when you lead him to a table and sit him down, the man doing so without many complaints.

jamil knows when someone is looking at him. he knew he should have ran back into the kitchen when he saw you staring at him intensely. but before he could even escape you already— "jamil." you say, loudly and he winces.

"why don't you get the others to join us?" you smile at him thinly and jamil understood. there was no room for arguments. he sighs. for a person mysterious to the entirety of NRC you are pretty scary.

oh, fuck did you even look okay? because next to a quite literally sparking, shining man like malleus you feel like you're a bag of trash.

eventually, you find yourself with a strange group, an unlikely group. very weird group. despite malleus being the obvious exception (dare you say he's the most happiest.) there are looks across the table with varying degrees of disturbed, irritation, or just plain fear.

okay, so the fear is mainly from idia who you're surprised even showed up. scratch that. maybe it was just him being nervous?

malleus doesn't look bothered at all.

you laugh awkwardly. "uh.. fine weather we're having?" but two out of five react positively to your words. rook cracks a bright smile while malleus nods slowly.

"indeed! it has been a while since the skies have cleared up." rook chirps, and you sweatdrop. you and a few other people cast a glance at malleus who doesn't seem to be concerned, nor care about the second of attention.

oh god. how awkward, everyone here knows that he's the reason why the weather was so bad.

"I'm just glad it stopped raining." jamil comments, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. he's met with several mumbles of agreement. all you could say was, same. no more struggling to keep your school works under the umbrella.

malleus hums. "I must thank you for the invitation, child of man." he smiles at you and you have to bite the inside of your cheek to not let the similar face break out so obviously in yours. "you're welcome."

jamil side eyes the two of you just staring at each other. if he'd known he'd end up being a witness to this.. subtle lovey-dovey stuff he would have never helped you and trey bake the few treats you asked them to in the first place.

plus rook absolutely eating up whatever you two were doing? yikes. god can kill him now.

speaking of trey he should be here suffering. he narrows his eyes.

.. right. "what are you doing here so early? hasn't lilia told you it starts later?" you inquire. it would also have saved you the trouble of creating a group to surround just one table for malleus.

shortly, he replies. "I did not want to be late." malleus blinks at you and almost everything he does makes you swoon, you get to see a clear view of his crystal green eyes. "I also wanted to talk with you," he admits.

and.. essentially have you all to himself before everyone starts to hog you like moths to a flame. maybe that's how malleus got attracted to you as well.

should you be embarrassed that he just said that in front of jamil, rook, and 3 other people, or should you be rolling all over the ground out of joy?

"oh jeune amour!"

"woah."

"malleus-chi at it again earning love points.

"seriously."

your lips wobble as you attempt to hold in the wide smile. you feel like the sun just flashed you in the face from the amount of heat you're feeling right now

"wh… do… uh.."

you don't usually describe yourself as someone who freezes up like this but clearly, you're proving yourself wrong to assume so. "oh haha.." your finger flies to point at the newcomer to direct attention. "would you look at that? the desserts are ready."

saved by trey who enters with a handsome smile. how in the hell is he balancing all those dishes with one arm? you have no idea. one step from you and all of those would have crashed down onto the ground.

then you'll blame gravity.

before you know it the tense atmosphere had melted into something warm. even jamil seems to have eased up, idia isn't hiding in the depths of his hoodie anymore, and rook is rook.

and malleus, despite his usual blank look has a faint lining of peace in his expression. it's rare to see it in a place so.. crowded? his lips quirk up further once he spots the dessert on the plate.

"ah, my favorite, tea and.. ice cream?"

"and crackers." you make sure to add.

he chuckles. "and crackers."

everyone digs into their respective plates. besides malleus' favorite, you made sure to ask what kind of food they'd like to have at the party. it would be rather boring if it were just ice cream, wouldn't it?

well. the ice cream was for malleus only so.

you can't help but sneak glances every now and then. thoroughly enjoying the delighted look on his face when he eats another spoonful. you're suspecting that he might even ask if there's another batch.

coincidentally malleus looks at you the moment you look away. it's a repeating thing. you look, he's looking away. you look away and he looks at you. a never-ending cycle that just results in unsaid feelings.

but everyone knows that if there was ever a god that exists he always has a plan for it.

perhaps once the feelings you bore have bloomed into something mature and people would be the time when you could hold malleus in your arms and worry not about every single thing. it's not always you get to pine for someone.

so I will always love you until you're mine. he thinks. you will be.

malleus casts you a small smirk. "I am hoping you'll spare me that talk later."

"later, please. for now let me finish this."

seriously. the food trey and jamil cooks are scrumptious.

he watches you eat, chat with rook and idia with a smile. he can't seem to invite jealousy in his heart because of them when you've so clearly put in the effort to clear the troubles in his.

next time I shall prepare a feast and festival for you. he thinks seriously.

but that's a plan for another day! one.. you're not exactly aware of.. yet...

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