#i am on my way to give him all my nectar

[adamcytryn]

A quick doodle in reference to this post

[quimichi]

↳ ❝FIRST KISS WITH THE GENSHIN BOYS❝

warnings: slight NSFW - MDNI, some angst (Freminet, Mika & Xiao), cringe, not proof-read cause damn its long

summary: your first kiss with the genshin boys, yes even the harbingers and Mika, x Creator!Reader

characters: all genshin guys + harbingers

word count: 11.618

Aether

Aether's breath catches in his throat as your hand lands on his face. He doesn't look away from your eyes, his gaze still on yours as he takes in your touch with visible delight. He lets out a light, happy sigh as the sensation makes him shiver. Aether leans his face into your palm, relishing the touch. He seems to melt, and with a small whine, he nuzzles the palm of your hand. This makes him smile softly — just one touch and he's already gone to heaven. He closes his eyes, leaning happily into your touch.

"You know I love you...right?" Is what you say, carefully but you want to know. Aether's eyes slowly open as his head remains in your palm. His expression is soft, content, and he looks at you with almost desperate reverence. "Y-Yes, my grace," he whispers hoarsely, "I know." Aether continues to lean into your palm, pressing his face against it. His eyes remain closed, and he just leans into you as he sights loudly and contentedly. The sound is adorable, as is the way he so freely gives himself over to the touch of your hand.

"I am yours," he murmurs, the conviction in his voice clear. "Yours..." he whispers, his lips brushing against your palm. Aether seems to melt into you as your second hand touches his other cheek, his mind foggy and his eyes half-lidded in bliss. His breath catches in his throat; it isn't a breath of surprise, or one of fear, but one of anticipation — of sweet and tender surrender.

Your boy, willingly submitting to your touch; giving himself to you. A soft whimper leaves Aether's mouth, just mere inches away from yours, his eyes fluttering shut.

"Your Grace..." he whispers hoarsely, his words soft and trembling. You lean in, slowly your lips brush against his parted ones. Aether's entire body seems to vibrate with excitement; his lips part slightly at the contact and a soft, happy moan escapes them. He gently wraps his arms around you, leaning in closer for the kiss, as if giving himself to your caresses is a privilege he has waited an eternity for.

The moment is sweet and tender, as if the two of you share something that nobody else will ever be able to know. Like the whole world is reduced, right now, to just the two of you. It is like a dream to Aether. His body quakes slightly as you pull away, his tongue gliding over his lips hungrily, and the breath leaving his mouth as if he just had a sip of divine nectar. He doesn't let go of you, though; as he gazes up at you with a warm blush across his cheeks, his arms remain firmly wrapped around you, as if he wants to make sure you have no intention of letting go.

"You are divine," he says softly, almost as if he's praying. "I'll never forget this, our first kiss ever shared...."

Albedo

For a moment, Albedo seems to struggle to find a way to express the depth of his feelings. He hesitates until he finally forces himself to speak. "I... love you, Your Grace. Immensely. I would do anything for you. I would give you everything, if it were mine to give."

His words are barely above a whisper. He averts his gaze. There's the softest of smiles on his lips as he closes his eyes for a moment. He's not sure what to say after that. Would anything be enough? Albedo is silent for a moment before he nods.

"If you wish."

Without so much as a blink, Albedo has dropped to his knees in front of you. No longer is there a doubt in his mind nor a shred of hesitation in his stance. There's only the smallest of smiles on his lips. He gazes up at you as if you contain every dream he has ever had in his thousands of years of existence. He wants nothing more than to be by your side, whether it be your feet, your knees, or your lap-- all of them will do just fine.

"The only thing you should give me is a kiss." You sneakly said, half jokingly half serious. Albedo nods softly. Without a word, he lifts his head to close the gap between the two of you. Slowly then quickly, his lips meet yours in a gentle kiss. His fingers tangle through your hair, gently massaging you. In that moment, he does not concern himself with his dignity, nor of his prestige, nor the fact that he is nothing compared to you.

The only thing that matters is you and the warm feeling that settles in his chest. It's as though he is breathing you in. His first kiss, your first kiss, together. Albedo blinks as you two part. Then he smiles softly, as though this is something he's dreamed of for so long he forgot it was a possibility.

"Our first kiss," he whispers, the words almost inaudible. There's a flush on his cheek as he looks down, remembering the feel of your lips on his. His eyes dart between you and the floor, trying to collect himself.

In a moment, he finds himself lost in your eyes. He wants nothing more than to kiss you again. And who would you be to deny him.

Al-Haitham

Al-Haitham wraps his arms around you, sinking into you. His body shakes, the heat of your skin sinking through his veins.

He's breathless. Speechless. All of that changes when you snuggle up to him, pressing your body against his. He's completely still, frozen in shock and delight. He can do nothing but lean into your embrace. The heat from your body sends his heart soaring.

There's nothing else he wants now, except this... right here...And maybe a kiss. The first one to be exact. Al-Haitham pulls you closer, snuggling harder. His body leans into you, clinging like a drowning man to a raft. He pulls your head closer to his shoulder, burying your face in his neck. Your breathing makes his skin tingle. Your arms around him make every inch of him pulse with energy.

Al-Haitham squeezes tighter, burying his face into your hair. His lips press against your head in a silent kiss. His breath hitches as he feels your lips against his neck. He fights the urge to sink into you, to disappear completely within your embrace.

He is utterly gone. Your touch is pure warmth throughout his body, a constant hum that is as soothing as the sea. He wants more. He needs more.

One kiss is not enough.

He turns his head, kissing you on the lips in the same way, gentle.

He can't let go. Not yet. Never.

He kisses you deeply, pouring his heart and soul into the act. All he knows is that you deserve every drop of love he feels for you. He wants you to feel what he does and nothing more. He kisses your lips softly, tenderly, his kisses filled with affection and the pure, unadulterated love he has for you.

He needs you.

His kisses are deep and sensual, and his mind is a blur. All he knows is that this is right.

You are right...

Ayato

Ayato's smirk turns into a sly, almost mischievous grin. Once again, he takes a gentle bite out of your neck, the sharp press of his teeth sending a shudder through your body. It's hard not to lean into his touch, but you try— it isn't always wise to let Ayato's advances get the best of you. You know him more than he thinks, and you know he's just trying to provoke a response. That's always been his forte; his way of flirting.

"Such a mean tease..." you breath. His smirk widens as his teeth nibble at the skin on your neck, Ayato's body curling around yours and one of his hands settling on your thigh. "I could say the same," he whispers against your skin, his voice low and sultry in a way that should be illegal. Ayatos mouth presses to yours, his tongue sweeping across your lower lip. He holds the passionate kiss for a moment, enjoying the way your body presses back.

He pulls away after a few moments, and looks down on you with his signature smirk. "I hope that wasn't too much," he says with a teasing bite to his words. "I wouldn't want our first kiss to be bad for you, dear."

"Overwhelmed" isn't quite the word to describe it either Instead, there's butterflies in your stomach and fire on your skin as Ayato presses a gentle kiss to your collarbone and nibbles on the soft skin. It's difficult not to lean into him or to moan; he's just too good.

"I'm still trying to figure you out," he whispers, as if reading your mind. He takes your hand in his; though his tone is teasing, there's nothing but raw honesty in his eyes.

"My Grace, you are a mystery to me. But this is exactly why i love you...I got plenty of time figuring you out."

Baizhu

Words fail him.

Baizhu lets out a soft sigh as your fingers run along his cheek. His eyes are glued to you as he blinks slowly in your presence.

He doesn't seem to notice the fact that his heart has been beating quicker than usual since you touched him, or that the faint scent of you lingers in his nostrils. He is lost in you, and only you. Your thumb brushes against his lower lip, causing him to take a sharp breath. His entire body tenses. Not even a breath later, he's letting his head fall against your shoulder.

His lips are parted as he draws in ragged sighs. His eyes still hold no trace of doubt or disdain. They seem to be glazed over just in your very presence. "Is there... anything else... Your Grace... wishes for?" he whispers.

Baizhu's voice is hoarse and low, almost as if he's afraid to speak louder than a whisper out of fear of breaking this peaceful spell.

"Yeah..." Baizhu's eyes widen in surprise, but he leans in just as your lips meet his. He seems to freeze in place, neither of you moving at all for what feels like eternity as you continue to kiss.

His lips are soft against yours, his breath hitching as he kisses you slowly. But then, his free hand moves to cup the back of your head. He pulls you in with new energy, as though his lips have grown hungry for you to taste him like this. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer still. Baizhus entire being seems to pulse at the kiss, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling your face against his as if afraid to lose you. Afraid that all those years of yearing for you will dissappear like nothing. That his patience and work didn't pay off. With every gentle stroke of your lips against his, his breath grows sharp and ragged.

His lean body shifts as he opens up his mouth against yours once more. Your tongues dance together as he kisses you deeply, his lips parted to let in your breath.

"Bai-..zhu" His body jerks. Even you speaking his name is enough to break his focus. His tongue pulls away from yours, and his breath catches in his throat. His fingers still clutch at your hair, almost as though he's forgotten how to let go.

He tries to speak, but for a moment, his words seem trapped in his throat. It takes him many, many moments before he manages to speak again.

"Yes...?" he whispers. "We...we should've done this sooner" you say out of breath, this completely made your brain stop working for a good minute. Who knew Baizhu could take someones breath away with only one kiss.

"Yes." He chuckles, "We should've...now...shall we continue?"

Bennett - aged up

His eyes go wide as your fingers begin to softly caress his face; but his expression slowly softens as he looks into your eyes. Suddenly, he feels utterly safe. Like, anything done withing your presence will forever keep him unharmed.

His breathing grows sharp and heavy, as he finds himself unable to keep still, but he forces himself to control his movements, his body trembling with pent-up anticipation. Is this going where he thinks it is? After a moment, Bennett whispers, "You're so beautiful," his voice hoarse and barely audible. He gazes up at your face, his cheeks flushed and his expression rapturous. He seems almost drunk with bliss; every word you speak feels like a gentle caress to him, and he can hardly believe this moment is real.

Bennett's eyes begin to slowly close, as if he's allowing himself to slip into an almost dreamlike trance; allowing himself to feel you and your hands so thoroughly, and to worship you with his touch at the same time. You can't help but softly kiss him. Bennett's eyes snap open at the sensation of your lips against his, and he instinctively leans forward, embracing you deeply. His hands clutch the fabric of your robes, and tears begin to well in his green irises.

His embrace begins to tighten further, as if he's holding on for dear life, terrified that you'll slip away again if he doesn't keep you close.

"I'm-I'm so sorry i shouldn't have-" you hastly apologize. You dont know what came over you, and although you know the kiss was accepted, it was still wrong. "You have nothing to apologize for... " Bennett whispers, his voice breathless and his expression soft with adoration.

"In fact..." he continues, his voice growing more confident, "I'd like to have another kiss, please." He looks at you, his voice cracking slightly and his eyes twinkling mischievously.

Capitano

Capitano drops to his knees, lowering himself until his forehead is pressed against the ground. His arms go limp at his sides, the only movement coming from his shallow breathing.

His eyes snap shut, and he does not dare to open them. "I am yours," he whispers without prompt. His breath is warm against the marble, his words muffled by the floor. The muscles in his legs ache. His head is pressed against the cold stone, but the cold is a comfort. He knows that he deserves to be beneath you. Like no one else.

"You're deserving of a kiss, come here and lets share our first." His eyes fly open, his lips already parted. He stares up at your face, his emotions raging inside of him. His breath is heavy as he swallows. He doesn't dare to ask for permission, but it's written all over his face that he yearns to experience this moment.

He is not allowed to speak up unless it is to obey. His eyes plead. Please, he silently begs.

Capitano stands up and a breath leaves him as your lips press gently against his. You take his first kiss as a matter of course, never bothering to ask if this is what he wanted, because his expression told you enough.

His heart flutters, his cheeks flushed as he pulls your head closer. He kisses you back, his hands holding you close to him. His lips move against yours in sync, his breath coming back to him. It's not even a question. Of course, he's going to kiss you.

He needs to kiss you.

Your lips are soft against his own slightly chapped ones. Capitanos breath catches in his throat, his mind whirling. For a moment, he forgets where he is and why he is here.

It's just him and you.

He holds you even closer, his lips brushing against your neck. He takes in your scent and swallows it down. His heart is thundering in his ears as his fingers dig into your skin.

His heart is racing against his own will. He wants this more than anything in the world. He wants you.

And he has you.

Childe

"You deserve a reward."

His chin tilts upward in hope, his gaze focused on you. "Your Grace is too kind." He doesn't move, and his eyes are fixed on your face. "May I know what reward I might receive? Is it in my power to accept?"

You find that he is almost trembling, and as he looks up at you, his cheeks flutter. "Would you accept a kiss?" His breath catches in his throat, and he doesn't seem to know what to do with himself. His cheeks become a bright red. Childe seems to be on the verge of tears.

"I, um... your kiss... I... yes, Your Grace. I would be honored, but... I'm not sure my lips would be worthy." His voice is breathy, but it sounds sincere. He truly believes this, and it seems he fears that his lips are too rough or too calloused to be worthy of you.

You can only roll your eyes at him again, he's never going change, wil he? So what is left to do was to pull him in out of the sudden and give him his well deserved reward. Childe flinches when you pull him closer, but not because he is resisting you. Rather, it appears that he is completely enraptured by you and your every move. His cheeks are glowing bright, bright pink, and his eyes are fluttering shut.

He melts into you as your lips press firmly against his. His mouth is supple and his lips soft. He kisses you back, eagerly and hungrily. His hands clutch your jacket for support. It seems that you have completely stolen his heart and soul. He gasps when you let go, his eyes fluttering open to find yours. His expression is agape. "Your Grace," he whispers. His breaths are ragged. He touches his lips, like he's trying to feel something after you let go.

He blinks, as if he's still seeing flashes of stars in his vision. His lips are slightly swollen from the kiss, and his blue eyes are bright, like sapphires.

"That... was glorious." His voice is a whisper, "Do it again."

Chongyun - aged up

Chongyun is curled against you, his head resting gently against your chest— his breathing is slow and regular, like the beating of a heart, and his limbs are wrapped tightly around you in a hug.

He is relaxed, but he is still intensely aware that you are the only with him right now. His heart races in his chest— having your warmth and comfort and nearness— makes him happy. Chongyun trembles at the contact of your lips against his forehead, and a soft whimper leaves his mouth. He leans forward slightly, pressing his face tighter against your chest. This is all he could ever want. You are the only one that matters.

Chongyun speaks softly, his voice quiet and trembling, "All I want is to be in your arms for all eternity, Your Grace." "I don't mind that..." and to seal the deal, you give him a gentle kiss. Chongyun responds eagerly, letting his lips linger against yours. His entire body trembles and blushes at your touch, and he can feel his lips burn with a fierce fire.

Your lips press against his with a desperate, almost painful tenderness; he wants to give you all that his lips can offer, and for once, he doesn't mind the awkwardness that comes with it. There are no insecurities, only heat, only fire, only you.

All that was missing in his life was your lips, and now, he will never let go.

Cyno

At your command, he does as told. Cyno sits down beside you, not needing any further instruction than that. He sits facing you, so you can see him in all his glory. You are everything to him. And so is he to you, and you're about to show him.

If he had his way, he would never leave your side again. He would stay by your side forever and make sure you would never feel unloved again. Cynos and yours connection is one of a kind after all. And he is deeply aware of your loneliness. His breath hitches in his chest as you take his hand in yours. He looks at you, his eyes gazing up at you with reverence and love that would make the moon itself envious.

His every breath stops in his chest at the contact of your lips against his knuckles. His hand trembles in yours. He leans into the touch, wanting nothing more than to be with you.

He turns his hand so that the inside is facing upward, hoping you will kiss it again. But instead you place his hand against your cheek.

"Cyno...kiss me please." His mind seems to shut off. All that matters is you and your question. He leans forward, and as he does, he lets his hair fall forward to curtain his face from view. Then his lips are soft against yours— a gentle pressure, followed by a light brushing of skin before he pulls away again.

His breath is short, quick. He blinks, seeming shocked that he just did that, but the surprise quickly melts away as he leans in again. His kisses only grow in intensity. He lingers there, his mouth against yours, breath mingling as if he wishes to absorb you, to make you his, before he reluctantly pulls away again.

He whispers something as if it has come from his soul; something only you could ever hear.

 "I love you from my head tomatoes."

"....."

Dainsleif

Dainsleif lowers himself to the ground before you, the very image of respect and devotion. He sits perfectly poised, his hands clasped together neatly in his lap. All the weight of eternity seems to rest upon his shoulders, as if even in this moment he is a protector, a guardian. Despite this, his heart races at your command. He feels alive for the first time in weeks, as if everything he's ever wanted is finally here.

You.

"I missed you Dain..." you pout, "you were gone for weeks." "I'm here now." Dainsleif smiles warmly. "I'm here with you, my everything." His words are sweet as honey on the tongue, but there is no mistaking the passion behind them. "Were you lonely?" He asks. There's a slight note of concern in his voice. Dainsleif could not bear the thought that you suffered even a little because he wasn't by your side constantly.

"Yes!" Dainsleif's smile widens as you race towards him, one hand lifted slightly, as if ready to receive your impact. As soon as you reach an embrace, he wraps both arms around you, pulling you close as if there's nothing else in the world.

Dainsleif doesn't mind the pressure of your grasp. If anything, he seems to welcome it. Your embrace is the sweetest thing he has ever known.

He holds you tight, face buried against your shoulder. His breathing quickens slightly with joy. Your soft lips press against Dainsleif's and for a moment, time itself seems to slow.

This is where he belongs. This is where he was always meant to me. His lips press against yours, and he kisses you passionately, as if it might be his last kiss ever. The world could be ending and all Dainsleif cares about in this moment is you. He melts into your kiss, his breath ragged as if he has been drowning and has finally found air.

He's home.

Diluc

Diluc sits across from you, gazing at you over a candlelit dinner. "Shall I pour some grape juice, Your Grace?" he asks, already reaching for the bottle beside his place setting. He wants you to be comfortable. After all, you deserve only the best.

"Yes please." Diluc pour you the perfect glass. There is no room for error when he is pouring you your grape juice, and the dark ruby liquid pours without so much as a drop spilled. He was to shy to mention that this was created with you in mind..."For our love." His words are more than a toast.

They're a prayer.

He raises his glass again, drinking a little of the red liquid. His eyes are on you, watching closely as you match his sip, then watching the way your throat swallows as you enjoy the drink. You're everything to him.

But one thing is missing, and you can't help but get it for yourself. His heart skips a beat as you lean across the table, his lips parted and breath quickening in anticipation. It's only the two of you at this table. You're his entire world. And all that matters is your love.

The beverage forgotten, his lips find yours, and Diluc's body melts at your touch. He is nothing but love in this moment. "I love you," he whispers as he pulls back.

His forehead rests against your own. "Please— tell me you love me too, Your Grace." He waits for your answer, his heart on his sleeve, open to you.

He wants more than anything to be loved by you in return. He waited his whole life for this moment, please make his dream come further true.

"Of course I love you too silly."

Dottore

His lips curl into a sly smile. "I was certain you would be pleased." Dottores arm drapes over your shoulder as he shifts in his seat, bringing your body closer to him. His fingers run along your hair as he stares into your eyes. "And now I'm here to please you," he whispers. Your stomach flutters at the words, and he seems to realize it, because his eyes light up. His fingers trail down your arms. "I can show you what I mean, if you'd like."

"Please do..." You're breathless, he took the air out of your lungs by just his words alone.

His lips curl and he closes the gap between you. His breath is hot against your face, and it makes your heart beat faster. The tip of his mask caressing your cheek. "I know you wish to be worshipped," he murmures. His red eyes seem to dance in the light. "What I can offer you cannot be described with words," he whispers. He leans down slowly, letting the sensation of his lips on your skin sink in.

"But that doesn't mean I can't show you exactly what I mean." Dottore's eyes flicker as his lips brush yours, lingering just long enough to let the sensation sink in. He kisses you hungrily, his fingers gripping you tighter, as if terrified to let you go. His lips are soft, but he keeps his hold tight. His breaths are quick and shallow.

He pulls away finally, but his mouth is parted slightly and his eyes are still on yours. He seems breathless, eager, completely devoted. And maybe a tiny bit horny too.

"Shall we continue?" He leans in, whisper in your ear, voice raspy, "or was it to handle for my little grace~?" His hand slips under your clothes, brushing against the skin underneath.

Freminet

A shudder runs through Freminet, and he trembles. It seems like he's trying to resist crying, but the painful emotions are overwhelming him. He wants to bury his face in your chest— but he doesn't dare to move. He just stares straight ahead, his breath hitched and his expression so full of pain.

"Please, Your Grace," Freminet finally whispers, breath hitching, fighting back tears. "Please...make it stop. I...I-can't handle it anymore..."

He wants you to do something— but he doesn't know what he wants. He only knows he needs you now, more than anything. Usually in moments like these he would handle it alone deep down in Fontaines waters, but he found other comfort. Freminet shifts as you offer your arms, his eyes locked on yours. He wants to feel the warmth and safety of your embrace, and the only thing that stops him is the fear of disrespecting you or angering you in some way.

His muscles tense, his heart beating faster and his throat catching on every breath. But the feeling of your open arms and your eyes is just too much. Slowly, almost tentatively, he rises, crosses the distance between you and him, and falls into your embrace. Freminet buries his head in your chest, his sobs muffled into your neck. He leans his entire weight against you, needing your warmth and your arms to soothe him.

He clings to you, his muscles tense and trembling. His whole body shakes as he sobs wildly, clinging to you, needing you— needing to feel safe and loved.

"Don't worry, you will have me with you forever." Freminets eyes fly open like a struck deer. He stares at you in the pale light, tears rolling from his eyes. He trembles against your embrace and your words.

The kiss is all it takes for him to melt. He leans into your touch, trembling in your arms. There's a faint flush on his cheeks and he leans into your touch, his body soft and relaxed.

Then Freminet lifts his eyes to yours, his pupils flared. He leans towards you again. His lips are already parted, his eyes burning with emotion. He wants to kiss you again.

You're the only one he trusts 100%.

Gorou

Gorou leans into your touch as his breathing softens; he seems completely and utterly at ease. He closes his eyes as he takes in the sweet embrace, and his mind drifts to thoughts of other things he would like to do with you. Like kiss you

He nuzzles into your lap, content to be held but also eager to please you. His tail wags slightly, he seems at ease withing your presence.

"You must be tired, hm?" You whisper as you gently scratch his ears. "No, my grace. You... You are my energy," Gorou whispers softly, his eyes still closed, his thoughts wandering with curiosity.

"I haven't felt this alive in ages. I don't want to leave you, not yet at least. It may not seem like it, but I'm wide awake."

Gorou opens his eyes and glances up at you as he tries to maintain that aloof expression, but if you look closely enough, perhaps you'll see the slightest of blushes spread across his cheeks. Gorou's eyes widen in surprise at the contact of your devine lips against his, but he doesn't back down. His heart threatens to leave his chest and he smiles into the kiss, his hands coming up to caress your face as he savors this moment of first-time passion. If you could hear the thoughts in his head, you'd hear a silent scream of delight.

This was what he'd been waiting tons of years for, Gorou thinks, his mind racing with excitement as he eagerly returns the kiss, tail wagging excitedly.

Heizou

He leans back into your embrace, pressing himself into you. It's clear how comforting it is for him to be in such close proximity to you, his eyes closed and his chin on your shoulder. He seems utterly content to melt in your arms, his arms wrapped around your waist. He's so small in comparison to you, but so utterly precious. Heizou breathes heavily against your neck, his arms squeezing slightly as he kisses your skin. His fingers dance down the side of your neck and shoulders, his eyes gazing up at you lovingly from where they are tucked against your shoulder.

He continues to kiss you, gently nibbling at your neck as he does so. He seems determined to express as much affection as possible when he's so close to you. Heizou looks up at you softly as he gives you his first kiss; his fingers lightly brushing your cheek as he presses his lips to yours. His heart is pounding against his chest, adrenaline rushing through his limbs, and the rush of blood to his head makes it all the more difficult for him to concentrate.

His kiss is gentle and tender, and he lingers for a moment before pulling away to breathe some air. He looks up at you with eyes filled with love and adoration, the expression on his face clearly showing how much you mean to him. Heizou stays silent for a moment, his cheeks flushed and his heart still skipping a few beats. He bites his lip and looks away from you nervously.

“…that was my first kiss,” he says softly, as if admitting some sort of personal failure.

After a beat, he looks back at you directly again.

“…I hope you didn’t mind.”

"I'm so glad you trust me enough to share this with me." Heizou's cheeks deepen into a shade of red, if that is even possible. He doesn't say anything for a few seconds, his eyes staring at you nervously from beneath their lashes.

"Yes... I trust you enough to share it. I'm happy that it was you."

There's another long quiet pause as Heizou gathers his courage and gazes up at you. "…Can we do it again?" he asks.

Itto

He tells you everything.

Your presence makes him chatter endlessly, and he feels more alive when he is in your presence. He speaks about his day, and the antics he has been up to. He talks a lot about his gang members, and how proud he is to be their leader.

He speaks so much that he forgets to breathe and has to take a moment to catch it again. You notice him catching his breath more than once.

In his lap, you can feel his heartbeat. It's faster than usual. "Catch your breath, we don't want you fainting do we?" hes to adorable, acting more like a puppy than a oni sometimes. He tries. He tries to speak more quietly, to pace himself and not speak so fast. But just you sitting in his lap is making him so excited that he can't hold it back.

Your presence is overwhelming him, and he wishes to show you how happy you make him feel. Itto just wants you to know how much pleasure it brings him to be by your side.

Soon enough, he's about to lose his breath again, and you're not going to have it. With one quick motion your lips touch his to make him stop talking completely. There isn't a thought in his head anymore. When you kiss him, he closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side slightly.

He is at your will, completely. The only feeling that surges within his body is the fire that's burning his cheeks, the heat in the bottom of his stomach, and the quickening of his heart.

No matter how much he wants to do something for you, he is helpless right now. Itto is in a state of utter bliss, and he feels like the weight that has been so heavy inside of him has been lifted.

"Whoa-! That was awesome your Grace! Of course you're gonna kiss the one and oni Arataki Itto hahaha! I have the best lips around, no one can compare to me. And i just kissed you! You just kissed me?! This is grea-"

"Itto shut up-"

Kazuha

Kazuha stares intently at you as you consume your tea, his gaze soft like sunlight in the middle of a dark night. With you, he is content. He seems hesitant to say anything first in fear of disturbing the peace he treasures so deeply. Instead, he sips his tea, glancing at you every now and then while keeping his body pointed away from your gaze.

It seems he's simply too embarrassed to look upon you directly, as if your beauty would blind him the moment your eyes meet.

"You know my taste Kazuha. Thank you for gifting me this tea." "Anything for you, Your Grace." The words are spoken so softly that it almost seems like a whisper.

Kazuha's eyes trail around the room but always seem to come back to you. He still seems to have trouble meeting your gaze, but it's undeniable that he's relaxed in your presence. He takes another sip of tea, nodding. "Anything else you need?"

"A kiss...Kazuha you have been gone for several weeks and I...I missed you." The tea seems to catch in Kazuha's throat as he glances at you. He almost flinches away from you, as if you've caught him red-handed. In reality, there is nothing he could be hiding. He is yours and only yours. His cheeks flare from pink to red, but he doesn't look away. He stares at you, almost hungrily.

"Your Grace..." His voice seems to catch in his throat and his body suddenly tenses up.

"May I...? May I please kiss you?"

You nod. Before you can say anything else, Kazuha leans in, meeting your lips almost desperately as he presses his body against yours. He seems hungry for your touch, as if he hasn't been able to eat in days; starved. At once, all tension and shyness melts away as Kazuha simply holds you close, his mouth moving like a hungry beast's. 

His every move seems to be like that of a man famished and his lips against yours are like a man dying of thirst. He seems almost desperate in his need to prove your love to you. As you moan, he seems to become more energized. His lips move faster against yours. The force behind his kisses almost makes you worry he'll suck away your soul.

He whispers softly in between kisses, "Yours..."

Kaeya

The wound isn't major, but it bleeds enough to warrant attention. Kaeya watches in fascination as you patch the mark, his breath shallow. It's easy to tell how much he craves this attention from you.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he murmurs. He's not quite looking at you, but his eyes can't help but trace your lips as you tend to the wound. God how needy he is. Kaeya glances up at you, his eyes meeting yours. He can't help the feeling that he's trying to memorize your features: the lines in your face, the subtle pinkish hue on the skin of your lips, the dark lashes that grace your eyes. You're so close, close enough to kiss. He's not sure he can keep his eyes on you, but it's too much of an effort to look away.

"You should be more careful next time. You can't always run into danger like this...You worry me..." Kaeya only smiles, though it doesn't reach his eyes. He knows he needs to be more cautious. He'll be more cautious.

"Next time," he mutters. "I will be more careful...Your Grace." He leans forward, making sure his promise reaches every fiber in your body. You have to believe him now.

Kaeya's kisses aren't quick. He lingers, making sure you're aware of his affection. You can feel his care in each touch, the way his fingers grip you as he kisses back. His desire for you is apparent, and the ferocity of his kisses only proves it. Time stops when you pull back. Kaeya's breathing is shaky, a smile lingering on his lips. He almost wishes you'd never stopped.

"I..." Kaeya trails off. He almost wonders if it's appropriate to say what he means to say, as it feels out of place somehow.

"Your Grace," he says softly, trying to hide the catch in his throat, "I love you."

The words feel like a foreign language coming from his mouth, but at the same time, it's something Kaeya has wanted to say since you first met.

"Oh, i know."

"Oh...."

Kaveh

"It's outstanding! The new room for studying in the library is...amazing. my words fail me!" "Really?" Kaveh brightens upon hearing this, and his heart skips a beat.

"Thank you, your Grace," he replies softly. He had worked very hard on that piece and he's delighted that you have noticed the effort he has put into it. "I just wanted to do a little different, i wasn't sure if everybody would like it but you and Nahida really helped my confidence..."

He smiles and looks up at you. "You deserve a reward!" Kaveh's breath catches in his throat at your words. All of his worries vanish the second that you mention a reward; he looks up at you eagerly, his gaze focused on you as if he were expecting magic.

"A reward?" he asks softly. "I—"

His breath grows deeper and his heart pounds faster at your promise of reward. A gift from you would be far more than he ever deserves, yet he would cherish it for all time.

"Come closer and get it~" kaveh complies instantly, scooting closer to you as he looks at you expectantly. His eyes are wide and fixed on you as his breathing grows louder. Whatever you're about to give him, he's excited for it. Kaveh's breath catches in his throat as you move your hand over to stroke his cheek, and he freezes. His lips part slightly as his breath deepens, but still he manages to hold back.

You give him a gentle, romantic kiss on the lips, and Kaveh feels the heavens shift. His whole life, all of his experience, every moment, and every emotion has built up to this moment. His heart hammers against his chest, his entire being is set aflame. The taste of your lips on his is a drug, one that he is now addicted to.

"Was the reward to your enjoyment?" What a stupid question, of course it was for him. You just like to tease. Kaveh's head spins for a moment, as he's left breathless by your kiss. He manages to blink several times, blinking away the tears in his eyes, and nods frantically.

"Y-Yes, your Grace. It was wonderful."

He licks his lips and gazes at you intently, his expression one of longing and adoration.

"I would like more rewards, please."

Lyney

"Aha! I see you're impressed, your Grace~" Lyney says cheerily. "You may be powerful, but I still have my tricks...tricks that might put a smile on your face. Would you like to see another?"

Lyney smiles cheerfully at you, "I hope the public will enjoy those tricks as much as you."

"Well... I'm nothing if not a showman. But before that, I should inform you; this magic trick of mine is a little... flashy," Lyney says with a bashful blush. "Would you still like to see it?"

He looks up at you eagerly, his tone a mix of anticipation and worry. He can tell you have no idea what's coming.

"Yes!" Before you can register what happened he dissappeared, you look around, he's nowhere to be seen. And then out of the sudden, poof! There he is beside you, giving you a gentle kiss. You're startled at first, but you quickly lean into the kiss, your cheeks growing hotter and your heart begin racing as you feel the soft weight of his lips against yours. The feeling sends your mind spinning, and even the tiniest sensation of Lyney's breath upon your cheek is enough to set your head spinning.

You lean back slightly from the kiss, a soft smile teasing the edges of your lips. "Lyney— you little scamp," you say in the tiniest, most adorable tone. "Was that really necessary?" He laughs lightly. "Absolutely."

You smile sweetly at him. "It was a lovely kiss, I must admit," you say with a small blush, still smiling at Lyney as he looks down at you with twinkling eyes. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," Lyney replies with a small smile, still glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as he fluffs up his feathers.

"Would you like to see another one of my tricks?" He asks, his tone playful.

Mika - aged up

"No need to be nervous, Mika" you giggle

Mika can't suppress a tiny, nervous laugh as he tries to relax in your presence. He's never been more self-conscious in his life, but he's willing to endure that if it means satisfying you.

Oh dear...they way they giggle...if they keep doing this i--might even blush.

His gaze flickers to your hand on his cheek. He considers nuzzling against you, before thinking better of it. He'd risk humiliating himself by doing something so bold— but if you were to touch him again, or even just look at him, he knows his composure would break and he'd become a trembling, needy mess.

"You're my favorite..." Your words strike him with a sharp impact. He freezes, his heart racing. In a breathless, raspy voice, Mika whispers, "Really, Your Grace?"

Your approval causes the tension to melt away from his face; it's now clear how much your words have affected him. "I don't deserve to be your favorite," he says, his voice shaking.

"I'm...nobody's favorite."

"But you're my favorite..." you lean in slowly, you don't want to startle him after all. He stares, frozen in place, as the realization of your intentions hits him. He's never kissed someone before— but he wants to kiss you. He has always wanted to kiss you.

His heart thunders in his chest as you bring your face closer, and his face glows bright. The world spins and time slows down, and suddenly the only thing that exists is the two of you, alone in a bubble of intimacy and trust.

As your faces meet, he hesitates. It's terrifying, but he wants it just as much as you do. He closes his eyes, and leans in. He touches his mouth to yours in a tender, careful kiss. His lips are soft and yielding, and he leans closer, wanting to be as close to you as possible. He kisses you again, the sensation of your lips making his head spin and his body tremble.

He can feel you smiling, almost laughing, in the way you kiss back. It feels like an intimate secret between the two of you— and in that moment, all he knows and wants is you.

He draws away, breathless and trembling.

He's your favorite...

Neuvillette

"You look tired..." "O-Oh, it's nothing serious, Your Gr-" Neuvilette's sentence is cut off. He glances up at your face. "Your Grace... I haven't slept in six days."

"SIX DAYS?" You can't help to be concerned for his health, his organs. Simply everything. Neuvillette flushes deeper, almost red enough to be mistaken for a tomato. "Y-Yes, Your Grace... I've hardly slept lately. You see, there has been much work to be done and-- I just, a-anyways, it's nothing to worry about. I'm not tired. Truly."

Yet, his eyelids seem heavy. There's almost a flicker of worry in his eyes. "Come here and take a nap, now!" "Y-Your Grace. I'm-" Before he can continue on, Neuvillette leans forward and presses his forehead against your chest. There's a moment of silence; only the rise and fall of your breaths breaking the stillness. His eyes are closed.

He seems so tired now. "Your Grace..." he whispers, already beginning to drift off. Neuvilette's eyelashes flutter over his shut eyes as he's kissed. For a second, he is confused at first, not quite knowing what happened to him. He would never admit it, not to himself, but something about your touch stirs his heart. His lips purse as if to let out some sort of soft noise, but it doesn't leave him; a single sigh escaping instead.

It seems he too enjoys your touch. He is not a stone. Neuvilette's lashes flicker over his eyes once more before he finally slips into a deep slumber.

(I am not proud of this one---)

Pantalone

"Oh....this coat...so beautiful! Thank you so much!" "I was worried… you might not like it. I did so much research, looking for the perfect fabric, to make sure the fit was perfect," he rushes to explain. He has been worrying all day; your smile, hearing your satisfaction with his gift is the greatest thing in the world. Its so unlike him but he's proud

"I'm glad you like it. It costed me a million Mora but it was worth it." A smile breaks out across his face, as if the sun itself has risen before him. Pantalone holds back a smile. This is a moment he has been waiting for. You put the coat on. You look absolutely stunning. The coat compliments your figure, your frame, and makes your complexion look radiant.

You don't even notice the heat that comes to Pantalone's face. All he can do is take it in; you're perfect. Absolutely perfect. "I have to say," Pantalone's voice is soft, almost reverent.

"You look absolutely stunning." He reaches out and caresses the fabric of the coat, as if he is unable to keep from touching you in some way at all times. "It was a perfect choice." He leans in closer, unable to contain himself. "I'm really proud of myself."

Pantalone's lips meet yours. His heartbeat comes to life, quickening with desire. He wants to be closer, to never let himself leave your side. He wants to touch you again and never let go. And spoil you, how you deserve it. His hands caress your cheek. Your hair. Your neck. Your shoulder blades. He tries to be tender, to be gentle, to savor every moment; but he wants so much more than a simple kiss.

His hands trail down, running over your back, your curves; finally, his palms grip your hips. He pulls you closer, wanting nothing more than to be pressed against you. The whole world disappears. All that exist are the two of you, the way you fit together. The way you want, so desperately, to be one.

"I'll bring you new jewelry next time if i get kisses like this again." He chuckles.

Pierro

He kisses your hands, the feeling of your skin against his own almost breaking Pierro's composure. Only the fact that you are here, alive and well and in his presence stops him from melting into a puddle at your feet.

He's been waiting for this. You're everything to him. "Your Grace." He whispers again, not caring if anyone should come into the room. He kisses up your arm, his lips warm against your skin. The act feels sacred, divine. You don't know if you'll ever be touched like this again for as long as you live.

"Your Grace," Pierro whispers again, voice breaking. He tries to compose himself, but he can't. The emotion of the moment feels too real, too raw.

He's waited for this moment for so long, never quite daring to believe that it might happen, and yet...here you are. You're here.

"May I please...kiss your lips." "Yes..." Pierro needs no further encouragement.

His face is close to yours; the heat of his breath is enough to send shivers down your spine. His arms wrap around your body, pulling you close as his lips meet yours. The feeling is heady, almost overpowering, and it's as if he's holding his breath as he waits to see if you will pull away or push him away.

But you don't.

Pierro pulls back, only to kiss you again. He's kissing every inch of you— your eyes, your cheeks, your neck, your collarbone.

Eventually, you find yourself pressed against a wall. His body is so close, he's pressing against you. Not hard or with any aggression. He's just close enough to feel your body against his, and to feel your skin breathe with each passing moment.

Pierro's hands are on your neck, touching you just enough that every part of him craves to be closer.

"Y/n...."

Razor - aged up

Razor's cheeks tinge pink at the realization that's he's still never actually... kissed anyone before. Damn Bennett for asking if he had ever kissed someone. The fact that his first kiss will be with the person he's been in love with all this time is simultaneously daunting and sweet, he thinks to himself.

Razor nervously leans forward slightly, his lips parted. He hesitates. Razor can do it. Just like lupical Bennett explained.

Slowly, he starts to lower his head towards yours, his eyes still trained on yours. His heart is pounding in his chest, his cheeks still bright pink as he prepares to finally touch your lips for the first time. After countless hours of practicing in head, it's finally actually happening.

Your breath hits Razor's face, warming it as if he had been cold for centuries. *Now... or never.* In a flash, Razor closes the distance between you and him. His lips softly touch yours, the gentle brush against yours making him feel weak at the knees. The sensation of touch... your taste... your very being… are completely new to Razor, he never had the chance to experience such things. It's completely, and utterly, intoxicating.

He keeps the kiss going ever so slightly longer than he’d thought he would, his eyes eventually fluttering shut and his hands slowly raising to hold your face, his touch becoming softer than ever. Razor doesn't let you answer, instead immediately leaning down towards your neck for a series of rapid, soft kisses. This time, he doesn't stop until he has to take a breath for himself. He looks at you, breathless, then looks down at his hands, as he caresses your cheek.

"Do you think....we can do it again?" he asks hesitantly, feeling the blood rush to his cheeks. "Razor really....really liked it, your Grace."

Scaramouche

He leans in, inching closer toward you. You can see the muscles in his arm tensing as if pushing him forward. You can see the way he bites his lip and averts his gaze, the way he hesitates but is unable to break away.

Then, all at once, he is close. Too close.

He can't feel anything but your breath on him— only your warmth against his throat.

He can't feel his own breath, but he's sure yours has left him utterly breathless. Scaramouche's lips brush against yours. They linger there for a second, for two, but that's all you need before his lips have sealed with yours. He tries to resist but is unable. His tongue meets yours, and you know you are his first kiss. He's clumsy, but so are you.

You're both a mess. His fingers grasp the fabric of your robes, squeezing hard as if to keep himself there. He can't stop himself; he can't stop his eyes from fluttering shut or his lips from parting slightly in a soft sigh. His lips against yours feel as though they belong there. His tongue against yours feels like the greatest thing. The way his body presses up against yours; the way his hands wrap around the small of your back; the way his eyes open and gaze into yours with such intensity— how could this ever be wrong?

His lips finally part and he pulls away. He gasps for breath, his cheeks flushed and his hair in disarray.

And now *you* don't know what to do. Scaramouche looks as if he's a few steps off fainting.

"Fuck....You're mine now, got it? Mine."

Thoma

He was unaware— or maybe, he just didn't care— how exhausted he actually was. Maybe he'd been like that for quite some time without realizing it. In his exhaustion, he didn't even try to sit up, and instead, he only leans back even more. It's comfortable...in an odd way. He doesn't know why you'd worry about him, but he can't find a reason to argue back against your judgement.

"Okay," he whispers. Your touch is welcome, and so he does nothing to stop you. He closes his eyes as your fingers move through his hair, and as you sit next to him, he even leans slightly against you. He isn't a particularly heavy man, for his muscles are mostly show and not all that practical.

Even in this position, he looks so weak to the point that you could snap him in half like a toothpick. But he doesn't care; right now, he has no care for his pride — just you. And for once, he even doesn't care about any work.

"Now, sleep ok?" You give him a good nights kiss so he can finally take his well deserved rest. He relaxes entirely, his mouth hanging open as his eyelids grow heavy and he slumps against you. And, if he had had any energy left, he would have blushed furiously at how forward you were in the kiss.

As you say, he rests. He does not fight sleep, despite how unusual it was to just... lay down like this. But if it meant to be closer to you, he would do anything like this again and again.

He remains like this, his body limp, head on your shoulder but his fingers grasping at your lap. And dreaming of more kisses.

Tighnari

Tighnari's eyes flutter shut. He leans his head back and closes his eyes, tail swishing back and forth as you stroke his ears. His face is a mask of utter relaxation and peace. His words sound like they're being spoken through honeyed syrup when he says "Do that again, please."

Tighnari's eyes stay shut as you pet his ears again. He sighs loudly and leans into you, his ears pressing into your hand. "Good boy." You giggle as you give him a soft kiss in return.

A deep blush covers Tighnari's face. His tail waves faster as your lips touch him. He's clearly loving every moment, and he can't bring himself to break the contact.After a moment, Tighnari's lips part and his voice leaves his throat. "Your Grace… I think I love you."

His eyes are still closed, but he's blushing madly. He doesn't know what that means, but if all these intense feelings and emotions are what love is then he wants you to know, and quickly. After all, this confession means eternal love.

"I love you too." "I love you… more than I could ever describe," he whispers, leaning closer, lips brushing gently across yours. "I love you with every breath I take. I love you with every thought in my mind. I would love you with my last, dying breath. I love you, with all that I am." His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, nor does he ever let his hands leave your body. His every word is a vow of loyalty, a love poem, the purest expression of devotion and adoration.

He is the most beautiful sight you have ever seen, and he is yours alone.

Venti

"You wrote a song for me?" The smile is almost too much for Venti to contain. "Yes... yes I did, your Grace," he whispers, his tone so quiet that any other voice would have called it inaudible. "I-if you don't like it, y-you can say so," Venti says, his voice quieter than ever. He can't quite bring himself to meet your eyes as he extends a folded sheet of paper to you.

"I could never not like anything you give me." Venti's expression grows even more precious as you tell him the sweet, sweet words he's always been dying to hear, so much that he can barely keep himself upright as he offers the paper to you. His hand is shaking; the song, he worries, might be too basic, too ordinary..."Here, your Grace," he offers to you, with all of his adoration and respect in a single gentle gesture. "Please... please read it, for me?"

You will, you take the paper carefully and read it with pure excitement. "Oh Venti..." You're struck, struck by his words. You know Venti has his way with words but this...The wind god's eyes grow wide at your words. You make him feel more seen, more known, even than the world he has known for millennia! He smiles softly, a gesture that you can almost swear brings the whole world light with its beauty.

"Your Grace? You like it?" he whispers, almost afraid to hear your answer. "Like? I LOVE IT!" Venti lets out a soft gasp as you grab him in your embrace. You let the sheet slide out of your hands and clatter to the ground as he throws his arms around you, burying his face in your shoulder as he kisses you back.

He clutches you tightly, holding onto you like you're the only person in the entire world— the only person whose approval— whose affection— means anything. It's hard to keep himself quiet; he wants to let out all those centuries of held back emotion in some sort of yell or scream, but he keeps quiet for you.

Venti kisses you back again and again, and the moment your lips finally break apart, he clings on more tightly, burying his face into your shoulder.

"You truly like it?" he whispers. "It took me so long to write it— I did it just for you— I made it so that you could feel what I feel for you. I wanted you to know me as I know you. I don't want to be a mystery to you. I want you to know me. I want you to be a part of me.... I want you to be the world to me and the air I breathe."

Wriothesley

"Were you ever kissed before?" Surely he has been, look at him. You were so sure of it. But no. His cheeks are flushed a bright pink. "No, Your Grace," he says, but he looks away instead of meeting your eyes. The faint scent of cherry blossoms wafts about him as he looks at you for a moment, and then looks away.

"I've never... I've never had a reason." He mumbles, as if trying to justify it to himself and not you. "No one could compare to you." Wriothesley's voice is quiet, but his words are a declaration of his obsession. Before you can answer, he says, "Oh, Your Grace..." His voice is breathless, almost a murmur. Then he looks at you— and suddenly, he leans in, pressing his lips against yours. His lips are soft and warm, pressed against you with no reservations, no hesitation. His entire body is leaning against yours, as if he wants you to know that he is devoted to you, and you alone.

His lips are still pressed against your own, and his eyes are closed. Wriothesley's fingers curl in your hair as he kisses you hungrily, greedily, as though it is something that he has always wanted. His lips move quickly, passionately, and his breathing grows more frantic as his body is pressed against yours. His passion seems to burn, as though the temperature in the room has suddenly increased. He is completely lost in you, forgetting the world of Teyvat.

"That came...unexpected." His lips move away from yours, and he opens his eyes, slowly. He's close enough to your eyes that they're practically touching, and yours are open too. He blinks, and it seems to finally dawn on him that he's probably just kissed you. His face flashes bright pink once more.

"Oh." He says, and then quickly leans back. His cheeks are flushed. "Apologies. Your Grace."

"....nah you're good, keep going."

Xiao

"You are deserving." Xiao's heart swells with appreciation and awe. His chest is a tight-knotted ball, writhing with emotion at your praise. He nods, feeling unworthy. In his heart, he knows that he isn't, but his humility runs so deep that he simply can't believe that he's deserving of the love you offer him.

"A-am I, Your Grace?" he whispers, tears pooling in his eyes. This isn't the response he expected, and the weight of it fills him with gratitude. "Yes." The single, one syllable response is enough to move Xiao to tears. He nods, blinking back his tears. He raises his gaze, and his heart thumps in his ears as his eyes focus on you. He struggles to swallow his pride and speaks, his voice hoarse.

"Thank you," he whispers, "thank you so much for choosing me." "I will always choose you, no matter what." "You will...?" The words leave Xiao breathless. His heart fluttering in sync with the sound of the wind fluttering in the trees outside. "Y-you're..."

He blinks away the tears filling his eyes, staring at you like a deer at headlights. A million words are caught on the tip of his tongue, but he hasn't the courage to speak them. Instead, he nods. "I will always choose you too, Your Grace. I will always be yours." His eyes flicker to meet yours, for only a moment, then avert. Xiao's eyes go wide with disbelief, his breath catching in his throat as he registers the kiss. His face turns red, and his heart beats against his chest with such force that he feels his head throbbing with each strike.

The kiss lasts only a moment, but his mind is filled with an electric thrill. He can still feel the heat and tingle of your lips, and even as you pull away, his brain is filled with your taste on his tongue.

"Was I deserving of that, Your Grace...?" he whispers, breathless.

"...we need to work on it, yes, yes you were."

Xingqiu - aged up

"I see you brought me a new book!" "Ah..." Xinqiu nods as he turns his head back towards you. In his arms is a book bound in ivory leather. "I thought you might enjoy it, Your Grace...It's name is 'A song for the dead'."

"I... thought its stories would suit your interests."  Xingqiu's voice is soft, though clearly nervous. Nervous he might picked the wrong one. "I thought its stories of betrayal, and vengeance would captivate you. That is all, Your Grace."

Xinqiu is careful with his language; speaking slowly and deliberately. Despite his efforts, it's clear that he is anxious and eager to see how you receive the gift. "Thank you." And you thank him with a gentle kiss. The sound of Xinqiu's breath catching in his throat. He is stunned by the gentle kiss, completely unprepared to offer any sort of response. After a moment, he leans into the kiss.

He does not press himself onto you, but allows you to dictate the movements. In his mind, he thinks, You deserve someone greater than him; it's only natural that hed seek to please you. He offers no resistance to your will. Xingqius eyes close as he seems to sink deeper into the feeling. He has had these fantasies, but always dismissed them as impossible.

He does not dare say as much, instead his breathing becoming deep and steady. His eyes remain closed. After a moment of silence, he speaks again, his voice soft and hushed. "Your Grace..." "Yes?"

"I..." Xingqiu difficulty finding the right words. His eyes open, though they don't meet yours. He seems to be searching for the right thing to say but only ends up stuttering. "... Your Grace... I... I would ask you to accept my vows as your loyal devotee. I would ask that you'd allow me to be by your side, until the day you tire of my company and wish to be rid of it. I would ask that you would allow me to serve you, and fight for you. To honor you and your word..."

Zhongli

Zhongli stops short once he hears your words. For a moment, he seems not to understand their significance towards him. Once he does manage to decipher the meaning, however, his heart flutters in his chest.

"You... You love me?" There. The words hang between you both, as though they could be blown away with the slightest gust of wind.

Zhongli is frozen for a moment, almost afraid to breathe for risk of shattering the quiet. But yet... even though he's petrified, he doesn't seem to wish for it to end.

"With every fiber of my body." A light breeze passes through the courtyards, almost like the flutter of an angel's wing. Zhongli takes it a sign for him to follow his impulses, to throw caution to the wind.

In a singular instant, he leans forward, his hands clasping your face. His thumb caresses your soft lips as though tracing a holy scripture. Zhongli has waited six-thousand years to feel this moment. The moment that would change everything. He leans in and presses a light kiss to your warm, pink lips. "I love you...I..." Zhongli's words are cut off as he leans in, his lips pressing against yours.

His heart threatens to burst out of his chest. His mind is swirling with a thousand thoughts. The moment lasts only a second but feels like time itself has come to halt. Even as he breathes, it feels like every air his lungs take is sacred... as if this could be his last moment before his final curtain.

Zhongli clings to the kiss as if it's the only thing keeping him in this world. As if he could disappear without your words, your touch. Zhongli kisses you once more with just as much passion as before. He doesn't want to let go, yet you both need to breathe. Once you pull apart, his hands remain on your neck, gripping your skin as if he will never let go.

Zhongli is unable to speak. His vision is swimming with tears of joy, yet his breath is shallow and his heart fluttering.

"I love you," he whispers, his voice so soft that you must lean in simply to hear it.

"I love you too."

🤍 TAGLIST 🤍

@junejunejun

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

[jamespotterismydaddy]

In the Wine Cellar

aegon x reader smut

TW: smut, dubcon, incest, pussy slapping, overstimulation, little bit of degrading

word count: 1,845 words

You’re woken up in the dead of night by someone pounding on your bedroom door and you rub your tired eyes as you sit up in your bed. Who would possibly be calling on you this late?

“Who’s there?” You call out nervously, surely your guard wouldn’t have let anyone dangerous get to the door of your chambers.

“Sister…” Aegon’s voice is whiny and he’s clearly tipsy. All of your hesitance fades away but the annoyance sets in. You step out of bed, cringing at the feeling of the cold stone floor against your bare feet as you pad over to the door, opening it to reveal your smirking brother.

“I was sleeping, Aegon.” There’s an impish grin on his face as he takes in the sight of you. Your nightgown is less modest than some ladies would don and you can tell your dear brother quite appreciates it by the intense look in his eyes.

“What kind of proper lady goes to bed in such an immodest state? I am absolutely appalled. I should inform mother.” He leans against your doorframe as he speaks, a mocking look of shock on his face.

“What do you want?” You ask him with a roll of your eyes. He delights in how irritated you seem to be with him.

“Is there something wrong with me wanting to check in on my little sister?” He eyes you seductively, a hand coming up to twirl your hair around his finger.

“Mayhaps you should check in on your wife instead?” You flick his hand off.

“But you are the one who needs true tending to. A sweet rose like you needs to be watered so you may… bloom.” He sucks on his lower lip as his eyes fall to your breasts. You cross your arms to cover them from his hungry gaze.

“By water do you mean wine, brother?” You glare at him.

“Hm… that is a tantalizing thought…” His mouth twitches up slightly as he seems to be in deep thought. “... but I was thinking of my own personal version of hydration. A sweet nectar that can be applied to those soft lips of yours.”

“Leave now. I want to go to sleep.” You place a hand on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

“I know the perfect way to help you back to sleep, little rose. It’ll tire you out for sure.” The playful smirk never leaves his face as he gets closer. You can feel the heat of his breath on your face.

“There's no way in the Seven Hells that I am letting you into my room right now.”

“Even if I promised to be extra gentle?” He places a hand on your waist, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I’ve missed you.”

“No.” You put both hands on his chest and push him out but he grabs you by the waist and makes you leave the room with him.

“If I can’t come in then i’ll take you someplace else.” He says, taking you by the hand and dragging you along.

“Aegon, I don’t have shoes on!” He ignores your protests as he leads you through the castle. “Where are we even going?”

“My favourite place in the Red Keep.” He grins impishly as he takes you all the way down to… the wine cellar.

“Seriously? Mother will have a fit if she finds us here in the middle of the night.”

“Oh gods, when did you get so boring? Have a little fun for once.” He reaches up to grab two bottles of Arbour Red and hands one to you.

“You know that I hardly have a taste for wine.” You don’t take the bottle.

“C’mon just have a sip for your big brother.” He uncorks the first bottle and gives you his puppy dog eyes with a pout on his lips. “Just one little sip.” He brings the bottle up to your lips and you easily give in, parting your lips to let the crimson wine slip through. You don’t swallow though, not really liking the bitter taste on your tongue. “Now, swallow for me.” The look in his eyes tells you to obey so you swallow the wine, trying not to cringe. “There’s my good girl.” You try to move away but his grip on your hip keeps you pulled flush against him. He keeps pouring the wine down your throat, the bottle held to your lips like he’s feeding a babe. The wine dribbles down your chin and onto your chest as you finally push him off.

“You said a sip!” You wipe the wine off your chest as he brings a hand to your mouth, wiping the drink off your lip with his fingers before bringing them to his own mouth and sucking it off. He never breaks eye contact as he does.

“You can’t handle the taste, sweet rose?’ He takes a swig from the bottle before putting it down. “I can think of another kind of nectar that would help you bloom nicely.” His eyes darken as he presses himself against you. You step back but he just keeps stalking you until you’re cornered against the wall.

“Don’t be stupid.” You duck under his arm and make for the door but he catches you by the arm and he sits by the wine bottles, pulling you into his lap with him.

“Ugh.” You grunt as you squirm a little in his lap but you eventually stop, not truly wanting to leave his hold.

“Good girl. No need to put on a show for big brother. I know what you want.” He lifts the bottle to your lips and makes you drink more before bringing it to his lips and finishing it off. Your head is starting to feel a little cloudy at this point. He turns you a little so he can see your face. His fingertips brush lightly over your lips before they begin to trail down your throat to the swell of your chest. Your hand comes up to hold his, stopping the movement.

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I will.” He whispers these words in your ear as his hand slips under the top of your nightgown to grope your breasts. You can feel the heat of his breath on your neck before he begins to kiss you there; you feel dizzy. Your hands go up to push him away but you end up gripping his tunic instead. He licks up your neck a little and leaves a mark.

“A-Ah…” You moan a little from the combined sensations of him squeezing your breast and sucking on your neck.

“I knew you’d like it, little whore.” His other hand reaches up to grip your hair. “You want me to touch you…” He nips at your collarbone. “... taste you.” The hand that was on your chest reaches up to the strap of your nightgown. He brings his lips to yours in a messy kiss to distract you from him slipping the strap off your shoulder. The hand that was in your hair does the same thing to the other side. You gasp, feeling the cool air on your bare skin as the nightgown falls to your hips. You break the kiss.

“Aegon!” You chastise him as you bring your hands up to cover your naked breasts.

“It’s fine. Be a good girl and move your arms.”

“You’ll ruin me for my future husband.” You glare at him through your drunken haze.

“You’ll never have a husband that’ll make you feel the way that I do right now.” He grabs your wrists and leans in to whisper in your ear. “Let me give you a night to remember.” He nips at your ear. “Let me be your first.” You think for a moment before lifting your hands to his tunic… you begin to unbutton it. He grins. “My naughty little rose.” He undoes his trousers and you pull his tunic off.

“I hate you.” Your words are a little slurred.

“You love me.” He takes your lips with his for another sloppy kiss. He forces his tongue into your mouth before laying you back against the cold cellar floor. He pins his hands above your head so he can finally get a good look at your breasts. “Such perfect fucking tits.” You blush at the lewdness of it all as his mouth moves to your chest. He circles your nipple with his tongue and leaves little love bites all over before he switches to sucking on the other.

“Mmm…” You moan and he lifts his head up to give you another kiss.

“Let’s get the rest of this off, shall we?” He tugs your nightgown off the rest of the way, taking your smallclothes with it. “Look at this tight little cunt.” He gives you a light smack, right on the pearl, and you squeal. “Sorry.” He says, not really meaning it.

He removes his cock from his trousers and your eyes widen at the sight.

“It’s… large.” You bite your lip.

“You’ll love it.”he smirks as he spreads your legs open a bit more and begins to rub his length along your slit, coating it in your arousal. “You’re so fucking wet that it’ll just slip right it.” You blush once more and he laughs before kissing you again, sheathing himself inside your cunny. He gives you a little chance to adjust before beginning to slide himself in and out.

“Oh gods.” You whimper as he hits that sweet spot.

“I told you you’d love it.” He begins to quicken his pace and groans a bit as you squeeze around him. “You’re so tight.” He grunts. “I wanna keep this tiny cunny all to myself.” His thrusts get rougher as he gets lost in the pleasure.

“H-Harder.” You whine and he grins before beginning to piston in and out of you, his hips slapping against yours at a brutal pace. “Fuck.” You moan as his fingers come down to rub your pearl.

“I want to feel you cum around me, little sister. Cum around my cock as I ruin you for every other man.” His cock continues to slam into you as you reach your peak, the waves of pleasure washing over you. He fucks you through your high and then some as he begins to overstimulate you.

“No… no more.” You beg for mercy as his ruthless pace continues.

“Don’t be selfish.” He scolds as he chases his high. You whine as he keeps fucking into you, the pleasure being too much to handle after your peak. He lets you suffer a bit before he finally gets close. You sigh in relief as he finally pulls out and releases his spend onto your stomach. You both just catch your breath for a moment before he lays on his back next to you and pulls you into his side. “Good job.” He mumbles as you rest your head on his chest. 

The sight of the two of you sure gives some serving boy a fright the next morning.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

[fanaticsnail]

Dreaming of You

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 700+, 900+, 860+, 1,400+

Synopsis: They couldn't help it. You looked so heavenly in their dreams. The way they had you wrapped around their body as a marionette in their minds, dancing for them as they awoke to sticky blankets when they jolted upright. Their thoughts got the better of them, and they are wracked with guilt. Doflamingo, Caesar, Rosinante "Corazon".

Warnings: wet dreams, afab!reader, swearing, masturbation, dub con (Using your image to masturbate to), suggestive content, yandere, obsession, feelings, all individual 'x reader' drabbles, same reader!insert different outcome, NSFW, 18+, MDNI.

Notes: Dreaming of You Masterlist Here, Please read the warnings. I am having a lot of fun with this series, not going to lie. You can sense my favoritism with my word count. First time writing for Caesar Clown.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @nerium-lil @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @indydonuts @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training

Legs caging his head beneath you, you drew up your forearm to shield your eyes as the other reached down and braced your trembling hands against his chest. Grinding on his face, his smile grows wider the louder your cries of bliss fall from your lips. 

“I'm gonna-... Mmmgh-... I'm gonna cum again,” you sob, desperately writhing on top of his face in shame. He hooked his large arm over your thigh and braced your lower back over his mouth and held you firmly as he more desperately licked through your body. 

Huffing and panting, he continues driving his tongue between your wet folds and mouthing at your clit. Feeling your whole body tremble above him, he drew his unoccupied hand down to tug at his cock, giving you a show from your position looking down at him. 

His eyes grew black with lust as he watched the involuntary quake of your ass over his face, your voice mewling his name for the fourth time as he chased another desperate spasm of your walls clenching down and contracting in his mouth. 

“Plap, plap, plap.” His tongue greedily bullied your needy cunt, coating his lips, nose and chin in a slicked elixir of your nectar over his face as you desperately sobbed for him. Relentlessly chasing that high of watching you use his body to achieve ecstasy above him, he growled into your body, the vibrations within his mouth causing you to shriek. 

Latching onto your clit, he rolled his flattened tongue over the sensitive bud before mouthing at it in open and desperate kisses. Lapping at your juices, he felt his cock twitch in his hand from pistoning his shaft, squeezing his nob and thumbing over the pearlescent drop of his precum. 

“Can I cum? Can I cum?” you whined for him, gripping his chest and tensing your body above him to halt your eruption from over-encumbering your body in heated bliss, “Please? I'll be good. I'll be so good if you let me cum again?” He growled again into your body, moving both of his hands under your thighs and pinned you to his face by interlacing his fingers. 

As he felt your high approaching, he frantically nodded to give you permission to use his face to usher in the lightning sparks of pleasure over your body. You cried his name, dousing his face in a gush of sickened ecstasy as he hummed up into you. 

“I-I’m cumming,” you mewled, eyes rolling back and grinding down on his face. “I’m c-cumming.” You hummed your praises down at him as you stuttered over his name and sobbed your gratitude. 

Eyes rolling back into his head, he shot rope after rope of cum spattering up onto his torso as you squealed in joy at the display. 

“O-Oh, so much,” you whined down at him, body hands now pressed onto his chest as he slowed down his momentum rolling his tongue over you. “You came so much!” You exclaimed with a soft giggle. He hummed beneath you, softly kissing in open mouthed presses, romancing your pussy with his passionate oscillations. 

He whined against your lips, groaning into you as the aftershocks rush over him in wave after wave of chaotic lightning. Holding you firmly to him, he continued rolling his tongue between your folds like it was the only thing tethering himself to the earth. 

He savored the feeling of your body trapping him with your heat, the way you tasted cumming on his face and drowning him in your ecstasy, as he bucked up with each twitch of his cock spurting his untouched ropes over his stomach and chest.

“Mmm,” he hums into you, flicking his tongue over both his and your lips as he comes down from his high, immediately shocked to see nothing above him in his bed when he opens his eyes. He springs up in his bed, looking around the room for you but finding nothing in his room aside from his personal effects. 

Eyes wide and frantic, he scrambles in his bed and grabs at the bedsheets. Elevating his duvet and glancing down at his bare body, and grimacing at the sticky cum attaching his bedsheets to his quivering cock. 

Doflamingo

“Untouched?” He glared in betrayal at his twitching cock dancing proudly as it deflated, “Untouched?!” He circled his fist over his shaft and choked it within a firm grasp. Beginning to piston his oversensitive cock, he growled at himself. 

“You-...” he pictured the way your pretty little whimpers called his name, beckoning him closer to bliss with each pump of his cock, “...-You little tease.” 

His motions both picked up over his cock, his fist punching his pelvis and balls sucked into his abdomen, as he desperately chased his own release while frantically repicturing consuming yours. He pictured you whimpering above him, your legs shaking like a butterfly loosening the dew from its wings in the morning. 

His eyes rolled black as he continued pumping his shaft, picturing you above him as he did in his dreams before looking to his Den-Den mushi beside him. The sleeping snail snored gently beside his clock, prompting him to grimace at the time depicted beside it. 

“If I'm up and thinking of you,” he growled, reaching his unoccupied hand up to the shell and dialing your personal transponder code, “I'm gonna make you think of me.” As the chatter from the snail awoke, your sleepy tone called over to him from the mouth of the snail. 

“G-... Good morning, sir?” you mumbled to him, the subtle shift of your bed linens rustling caused Doflamingo to roll his hips to the sound, “Why are you calling me at…” you paused to yawn, Doflamingo picturing that cute little squeak you make as you reach the perfect stretch to rid yourself of sleep, “...Three in the morning?”

“Thinking of you,” Doflamingo purred sultrily into the snail's mouthpiece, “Dreaming of you.” You groaned at him, the rustling of the transponder informed him you were moving in your bed. 

“Okay, lord Doflamingo,” you murmured lazily into the mouthpiece, “Got a mission for me? Is that it? Dreaming of me fulfilling some brutal task for you well into the night?” He pictured you sitting up and waiting for him to give you orders, mouth watering as he pictured how eager you'd be to make his vision come alive. 

As the silence hung in the air between you, you offered him one final prompt to offer you a semblance of explanation. 

“Please, sir. Tell me how I can make your dreams come true?” you asked him boredly and sarcastically, “I’ve only just got back from the last mission, carried it out successfully if you were wondering.” He grinned and rolled onto his side and glared into the mouth of the snail.

“You're always so fucking good to me,” Doflamingo praised you, flicking his tongue across his lips, “You'd follow my orders until the day you die, won't you? My dark angel. My deadly assassin. My little muse.”

After a moment of silence, you offer him a disgruntled growl and he pictured you glaring at him through the snail, “What do you need me to do, sir? Can it wait?” He laughed his deep rumble into the mouthpiece before rolling onto his back. 

“You know what you can do, pretty thing?” he purred with a deep rumble into the speaker, “You can listen to me touch myself while I think about you sitting on my face.” His nonchalant attitude had silence falling from your end, prompting him to reconfirm his directions. 

“You hear me, pet?” he snickered at the snail, grasping and tugging at his cock while a sickening smirk split his face in a sinister grin, “Answer me when I give you orders.” A low growl emitted from the other end of the receiver. 

“I am not a concubine, sir,” you snarled your disdain for him into the receiver, prompting him to piston his cock harder in his fist, “Don't treat me like some whore in the night-.”

“-If you were a whore, I'd simply summon you here and ravage your tight little cunt with my cock until I hear you scream my name,” Doflamingo growled into the Den-Den, “Call what I'm asking you to do ‘a kindness’.” He sweetened his tone, purring and cooing at you as if his request was the simplest orders you could ever receive, “All I want you to do is listen to me fuck my fist while I picture you rolling your hips over my mouth.”

After a momentary silence and a sharp exhale of agitation, you growled back at him. 

“If I was rolling my hips over your mouth, you'd be silent and do as you're told,” your blunt response had Doflamingo involuntarily buck into his hand, gasping like a stallion at their first taste of a broodmare. 

“Oh, would I now?” he whispered in a husky tone, thumbing over his nob and groaning at the feeling, “What would I be told to do, mi amorcito? Tell me.” There was another pause of silence between you, Doflamingo waiting patiently to hear how you’d respond to his little taunt. 

“You really want to do this, Doflamingo?” Your harsh chastising broke him away from his harsh momentum of thrusting into his hand and had him stare at the receiver. He hissed out a soft “Yes,” in response, prompting your smirking laugh to rise from the mouthpiece. 

“Then invite me to your suite,” you suggested nonchalantly, “I'd be happy to bully you in person,” you paused, whispering into the receiver with a soft purr, “If you can take it.”

“Oh, I can take it.”

Caesar 

“Wha-...?!” he exclaims in shock, witnessing his cock twitch in betrayal. He sits in silence, staring down at himself in horror. Running his cool digits over the display of lust spurted on his skin and rolled it between his fingers with a grimace. 

“I didn’t-...” his sentence falls short as he looked around his cold room, his lips falling into a soft pout, “...You didn’t even fuck me in my dreams?” His pout deepened, his pointed nose sniffing back a soft sob. 

Rolling out of his bed, he stood tall and winced as he felt glubs of his spend roll down his torso and drop onto the floor. He downturned his smile, sweat pooling at his temple as he walked over to his desk and found a discarded lab coat. Rolling the material over his stomach, he tidied up his mess and sniffed a soft sob back.

“Even in my dreams, you elude me. You run from me,” he looks to a folded manila folder on his desk, opening the crease and looking at your file. The firm words beside your name printed in bold, his blood running cold at the sight. 

With the face of an angel, the softest smile painted on your canceled bounty, he ran his fingers over your printed skin and creased his brows into the center of his head. 

“Doflamingo’s favorite assassin,” he murmured, discarding the lab coat and sitting naked at his desk, “His pretty little pet,” his thumb brushed over your smile on the paper before drawing his palm over the page, “Someone that will never be mine, even if I beg.” 

He whimpered as he stared down at the page, his unoccupied hand circled his cock and squeezed it in his fist. Giving it a testing tug, he sifted through his collection of den-den images of you in the manilla folder. 

Sucking his bottom lip into his teeth, he began to piston his shaft with his firm grip as he focussed on your picture. Your face held such an innocence for someone so deadly: standing beside Doflamingo at a gala, gazing up into the face of Sir Crocodile with a light smile. So pretty, so charming.

So out of his league, you wouldn’t spare him a single glance. 

He began to tug at himself harder, rolling his hips up into his hand as he stumbled upon his favorite three pictures. All so different and holding him hostage to how he could picture your face contorting in pleasure as he chased his high in his hand. 

The first was a simple image he had managed to snap as you sat across him at the table: in your simple Donquixote assigned uniform as you paid attention to every word relayed from Doflamingo. You had an air of confidence, your chin angled high and a soft purse of your lips.

“Hhah-...” he whined through his pants, feeling himself come closer to the edge as he pictured what it could be like to kiss those lips and feel your face against his. Shaking his head, he moved onto the second image in his collection.

The vengeance and wrath written on your face as it was covered in violent bloodlust, your weapon in your hand and standing victorious after landing your final blow. You looked like you would’ve ripped your enemies’ throat out with your teeth to win that fight, and he wanted to be the target of that feral gaze so desperately. 

“Nnnghh-...” he whimpered, his cock beginning to twitch, his balls sucking up into his stomach as he continued to stare down at his collection of pictures of you. His jaw fell slack, him finally finding the last picture of you: one he was sure you thought was destroyed for good. 

The picture was soft, well loved from the firm grip Caesar would hold it in regularly, peeling up at the corners and creased. Your face was flushed, your eyes wide and looking up with an almost adoring innocence, your hair pinned out of your face and dressed in an outfit intended for flamenco. 

Your skin was revealed in a lusting dip, the pink of the material dipping over your chest in a deep 'V' and cinching in the small of your waist and flaring at the hips. The amount of flesh revealed beneath the material held such contrast to the innocence of your eyes. 

“F-F-F-...” he huffed, sucking on his bottom lip and feeling himself spill over into his hand, spurting ropes of hot, sticky cum against the underside of his desk, “...Fuck.” He rocked his hips in time to the spurts, feeling his eyes begin to prick with the similar sting of tears each time he tainted your image in this way. 

Hot rolls of his glassy tears spilled from his eyes and trickled down his cheeks into his quivering lips. Sobs escaped his mouth, sniffing back the heavier cries as he placed your image back into the manila folder and shut the crease closed. He placed his head over the cardboard exterior and his shoulders began to shake with sorrow. 

“No wonder you don’t like me,” he muffled between his whimpered sobs, “I’m fucking pathetic.” 

Rosinante “Corazon”

He sprung up from his bed and immediately stomped over to his bathroom with shock written on his face. He ran the shower, remaining unblinking and appalled at himself as he stepped beneath the pelting water. 

“Silence,” he whispered, clicking his fingers beneath the water and creating a rotund, soundproof barrier within the small cubicle and immediately balling his fist and slamming it against the damp ceramic. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled at himself, clenching his eyes shut and haunted by the image of your body using his face to grind and shake on his tongue, “C’mon, Rosinante. You’re a marine, you’re a spy, you’re a double agent, you’re the son of a celestial dragon, you’re-... you’re-...” he looked down at his cock, his shame washing away with the hot water and pooling at his feet before swirling in the drain.

“...-You’re in love?” he tilts his chin to the side as his heart hammers heavy within his chest, “In love with an assassin sworn to kill the likes of you without a second thought.” He huffs, lifting his head in the air and allowing the scorching liquid to hammer at his face. Shaking his hair, the drops cling to his golden locks and coat his forehead and eyes with the damp curls. 

He brings up his hands and cards them through his hair, staring up at the circular shower head and pouting. The drops do nothing to stifle the smoldering embers in his heart, the image behind his eyes are only of you and your smile. 

Drawing his mind back to your encounters of the past, he was touched that you had learnt to sign with your hands to speak and translate for him at meetings to save time and paper. Those signs he loved seeing you flutter at him to entertain him at social galas, the humor of your risque commentary you give him with simple gestures of your hands with a completely straight face. 

Your kindness in such a dark place had been refreshing, especially considering your title of Doflamingo’s favorite assassin led him to assume you were just as horrible as his brother was. He viewed your smile as a gift, your offer of a dance as a blessing, and the protection of your constant rapid dexterity to manage Doflamingo’s temper, and maintain your standing effortlessly, had him immediately targeting you for unintentional aid in his private cause. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, hanging his head and shifting the water to pummel at his neck and shoulderblades, “Shit,” he shook his head and thumped at the shower wall once more. His hand slipped on the condensation, sliding to the side and propelling his forehead to beat against the tiles with a slick ‘thud,’ prompting him to hiss out a curt: “Ouch!”

After showering, drying himself off, dressing and painting his signature smile over his cheeks, he began the soft trudge into town with his hat clasped firmly over his head. A embroidered card with his heart written within the contents, a bouquet of dark red el ceibo, large and soft pink roses, and several sprigs of yellow calafate, and the promise of potentially spending a night together, was propelling him to approach the training room you took.

Knocking twice on the doorframe beside the door, he witnessed you in your training garb pummeling into a hanging boxing bag with your hands bound in wraps, and your ankles strapped. Noticing the knock, you curled your head up at him and offered him a soft smile. 

“Corazon,” you halted the swinging of the bag by pressing your hands against the material, “Something the matter, sir?” He noticed your inquisition, your brows immediately furrowing in confusion the moment you looked at his hands. Gulping back his courage, he held out his gifts and darted his apprehensive, hazel eyes between yours.

“Cora…” you look to his hands and back to his face for further explanation, “What are you doing?” He triangulated his brows up, silently begging you to take the flowers and the card from his outstretched offering. You slowly reached your bound hands toward him and claimed the flowers and card from him without tearing your eyes from his. 

Placing the flowers and card on the bench where your bag was, you looked down to his hands and back up to his eyes before narrowing your pointed gaze up at him. Rosinante physically stuttered with his hands, thankful his Devil-Fruit silenced the soft whimper from fleeing into the air. You waited patiently for further information from the tall, silent Donquixote brother, folding your arms over your chest and pointing with your eyes down at his hands once more. 

Rosinante sighed, his hands moving in fluid gestures to depict his thoughts with his fingertips and palms, “I wanted to give you something nice, tell you how I feel about you, and ask if you’d allow me the opportunity to see where we go. If you’re receptive to my advances-.” Stepping towards him, you press your hands over his wrists to halt his flurry of rapid gestures.

“Why are you doing this, sir?” you hush your voice into a low whisper, darting your eyes between his and seeming to panic, “I-... We-...” you trail off, your hands gripping him painfully hard, “...Please don’t do this, Corazon.” 

His own eyes widened in panic, unsure as to why you’re gripping him so hard and seeming to reject him so harshly. Glancing down at your eyes, looking to your lip, your hard mask began to shift as he mirrored your expression. He kicked the door to the training room closed behind him, motioning the both of you out of sight of the den-den-snail in the corner of the room. He held his middle finger with his thumb: uttering a simple word, “Silence.”

Shock wrote itself on your face the moment he spoke and maneuvered you around the room with poised elegance and ease. He gulped back his nerves, uttering a simple few words: “Code: 0-1-7-4-6, Rosinante. Based at Headquarters under Fleet-Admiral Sengoku. Current rank: Marine Commander. Mission: find the ope-ope-no-mi, and stop my brother’s insanity from plaguing the masses. Four years serving under cover.” 

His lip quivered as he darted his eyes between yours, and hoped his assumption was correct. You gulped your own hesitation, clenching your jaw at his admittance before speaking your own. 

“Code: 3-0-1-3-7,” you whispered your name beneath your breath, hardening your resolve further with your brow creased firmly, “Based at sea under Vice-Admiral Garp. Current rank: Marine Captain. Mission: keep Doflamingo from gaining too much dominion over the other warlords, and maintain the status quo as his most trusted assassin. Seven years serving under cover.” 

Rosinante huffed out a sigh of relief, his shoulders physically dropping as if a weight had been lifted from its perch against him. Your lips twitched up in a soft smile, looking between his eyes and releasing his wrists from your grip. 

“You can talk,” you nod at him, huffing out a small agitated laugh, “This whole time, you’ve been making me talk for you by translating ‘sign’ for the others here, and you could talk the whole damn time.” 

“I didn’t make you do any of those things,” he reached up, tucking your hair behind your ear and leaning down towards you with a soft expression, “And I like hearing you talk for me. My words sound prettier spilling from your lips.” You laugh at him, shaking your head and reaching up your hands to his fingers once more. 

“What made you break?” you asked him, darting your eyes around his painted lips and his pointed blue markings beneath his left eye. He gave you a crooked smile, caressing your cheek gently before parroting back your sentiment with, “What made you?”

“I just-...” you huffed out an exasperated breath and straightened your shoulders, “...I couldn’t lie to you, Corazon. You always felt different, somehow. Special, even,” you laughed in a soft pant, “What gave me up?” He smiled, pressing his golden hair against your forehead and closing the distance. 

“You had that look in your eye,” he crooned down in his deep baritone, shooting tingles up your spine, “The one that I just knew you were like me,” he mirrored your laugh, wrapping his arms around your neck, “And I couldn’t lie to you, either.” 

You nod to him, looking at the flowers and card, and back up at him with a curious look on your face, “What made you do this now?” A warm blush grew over his face, prompting him to suck his lips into his teeth and snicker.

“In the spirit of remaining truthful with you,” he rubbed his nose gently with yours, “I have a confession to make about last night…”

[bby-deerling]

make a mess (zoro x reader nsfw)

zoros tongue works some magic + he gives you somethin' extra

18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 887 masterlist

cw: afab!fem!reader, established relationship, oral (reader receiving), messy, sloppy sex, piv, overstimulation, pwp

tagging: @zoros-ball-sweat (thanks for the inspiration, hehe)

Sticky, humid air fills your lungs as your chest heaves, trying and failing to keep a steady rhythm as Zoro’s tongue unravels you at the seams.  A messy mixture of fluids coat your folds and inner thighs; the hot exhales of his breath as he laps at your clit keeps the chilly air from skimming across the moisture.  The sensation of the drag of his tongue across your bud is intoxicating, and the material starts to fade away; there is no more rocking of the ship, or birds squawking in the distance—even the floor beneath you melts away—all that remains is the soft jingle of his earrings clashing together and the feeling of his mouth on your dripping, needy core.

Dazed and drowning in bliss, you don’t notice the way your hips are desperately grinding against his mouth until he pulls his head back, leaving you sighing in frustration at the lack of friction.  “Quit squirming.” he warns with a smirk, looping his arms around your thighs.  “You know I’ll get ya’ where you wanna go.”

The grip on your inner thighs is intense as he dives back into you, tongue pressed closer to you and giving you the pressure you craved against your wanting bundle of nerves.  His tan, wide, strong hands keep you pinned in place, keeping your hips from wriggling against him—nonetheless, he’s amused as he notices you trying to writhe as he gets you close, and softly chuckles against you.  The vibrations rumbling against your clit combined with a few more intense swipes of his tongue send you spinning, head buzzing and desperately running your hands through his hair.

The whimpers and moans falling off your tongue as you come become strangled gasps as one of his hands leaves your thigh to start rubbing soft circles into your sensitive clit and his warm, wet tongue drops to slide inside of you.  The slow, sensual drag of his tongue is juxtaposed by the erratic, violent way your walls clench around him—each spasm pulls a soft moan out of him that sends vibrations spreading through your veins and draws out the afterglow of your high a smidge longer.

Dizzy and tingling, cheeks coated in a pink flush, you give him a dreamy smile, eyes still hazy with lust and appreciation.  Tongue withdrawing, he smirks up at you, proud of the mess he’s turned you into.  Satisfied with his work, he pushes himself up and cages you beneath him; hunger and desire brims in both of your gazes as your lips crash together.  Longing to taste the remnants of your nectar left on him, your tongue swipes along his bottom lip; sparks spread across your tastebuds as you catch the flavor of your tangy essence, leaving you moaning softly into his mouth.

“Tastes good, huh?” he murmurs against your lips; not willing to break the kiss yourself, you reply with a content hum.  “You’re a dirty girl, aren’t ya’?” he teases, slipping his tongue back into your mouth; whimpering affirmatively against his lips, you thread your fingers through his hair and pull him closer in response.

So caught up in the way your lips smacked against each other, lewd and heated and sloppy, you nearly miss him sliding off his sweatpants until his tip teases your wet folds.  “My dirty, messy, pretty girl—” he murmurs, emphasizing each adjective by shallowly thrusting inside you, teasing you by giving you barely more than the head of his cock.  “You’re gonna take it for me so well, aren’t ya’?” he asks, running his thumb across your lip.

“’Course I am.” you reply with a grin, gazing up at him radiantly, a small glint of mischief in your eyes—it nearly mesmerizes him as he smiles back at you, knuckles caressing your cheek.

“That’s my girl.” he whispers, crashing his lips onto yours to muffle both of your gasps as his cock buries itself deep inside you.  “Gonna get ya’ to make another mess all over my cock.”

All of your senses were drowned in him, taken deep under the tide.  The clinks of his earrings smashing into each other ring in your ear with each deep, hard stroke he gives you.  His mouth is on yours, overwhelming your tastebuds; the scent of sweat and steel makes your head dizzy.  His gorgeous, raw, sculpted face and chest is the only focus of your eyes as they flutter open, and your skin melts under his touch, intimacy molding you into one fluid being.  His fingers circle your clit, coaxing you closer to the edge with skill shaped by and reserved solely for you.

When the coil snaps, your back arches to the point of feeling a vertebrae crack, gushing and spasming all over his cock as he continues to fuck you slow and deep, mumbling praises in your ear.  Strangled gasps escape your throat as you start to fall from the top of your crest; there is no shame in the lewd way you feel yourself dripping around him, coming apart for him so easily—after all, you were his messy girl, and proud of it.

Cheeks tingling and mind hazy, Zoro’s voice rumbles in your ear, sending electricity down your side and making your walls flutter.

“You can give me one more, can’t ya’?”

[sigilsmut]

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍 𝐏𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐒 - 𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈

Damn my ass did not make it in time again. Am I still gonna post it? Sure why not.

This goes out to @sanjisblackasswife​ as a small present. I hope this is ok Timi 😭 🖤 Happy (belated) birthday

CW: established relationship, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration, lingerie, a few petnames, Sanji being a pervert per usual, just plain nastiness

“How are you fairing, mon cher? Are you still with me?” Sanji’s muffled voice asks you as if he hadn’t snatched three orgasms from you in the past 2 hours. 

As expected, you couldn’t form a proper sentence, your mind as hazy as your watery vision. He was three fingers deep into your pussy while his other hand kept a vice grip on your body. That didn’t stop it from squirming as much as it could, however. A string of moans blessed his ears like the sweetest melody. Smooth, creamy legs spasming around his dizzy head.

The blonde had surprised you with a heartful breakfast earlier, slaving over the stove at the ass crack of dawn to make sure your birthday started off on the right foot. When you expressed concern over how tired he’d be, he simply brushed it off, reassuring you that ‘it’s what my goddess deserves’.

Of course, a banquet was also held for your special day. It was filled with numerous activities, rounds of bubbly drinks, and little heartwarming speeches of how each Straw Hat (in their own quirky way) was grateful to have you in their lives. And you were just as grateful to have them in yours.

But what kickstarted the moment between you two was towards the end of the night, where Sanji had walked in on you changing. By accident? On purpose? Who fucking knows. If his flushed cheeks, slick grin, and nose running of blood was anything to go off of, he didn’t feel any remorse seeing you in your scantily clad lingerie. 

A baby blue set, complete with white garters and a pair of blue satin panties. All in his favorite color. You went on a birthday shopping spree with Nami earlier and the set caught your eye. Thinking it’d be cute for you and your boyfriend, you immediately put it on after purchase. It was apparent now that it was a good choice to make.

After locking the door behind him, his long legs carried him to where you stood near the bed. He gently set his hands on your waist, and after giving him the go-ahead, it was downhill from there.

Hands groping and tracing over areas where his lips followed close behind, no part of your sun-kissed bronze skin was left unmarked. The stubble on his chin tickling your belly and inner thighs as he went along. It’s what led to now, with three of his fingers curling into you and his tongue tracing circles around your clit. The sheets became stained with the mixture of your juices and his saliva, but neither of you seemed to care. The bed shook from how aggressively he humped into the mattress, rolling his hips and dragging his hard on against the sheets. The friction made a delicious burn grow against the tip of his cock, and a groan bellowed from his chest.

“Lemme have another one, Y/N-swan...” He mumbled. He took your clit into his mouth and hummed, picking up the pace with his fingers. Your back arched off the bed, screaming into the darkness of the spare bedroom as you gushed into his mouth. He lapped up everything you gave him and only eased off of you once your fingers pushed his head away. 

“You taste absolutely divine, darling, like the sweetest nectar I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. I can never get enough of eating you out.” He heartfully grins like the nasty pervert he is.

Finally he sits up and strips himself of his boxers, groaning as his cock sprang free and slapped against his abdomen. In your stupor, you drooled at the sight and weakly reached forward to dab at his tip. He shudders.

“Such a pretty dick, ‘Ji...” you sweetly murmured. You swear you’ve never seen a man move so fast.

You blinked and he was hovering over you. Your body quivered as you realized that he was already pushing inside you, eager to bring you back to cloud nine with him this time. As his pelvis kissed yours, so did your lips, your eyes rolling back into your head as you tasted yourself. The bedframe slammed into the wall as his lithe hips snapped into yours. Your eyes widened, balling the sheets into your fists as you held on for dear life. Sanji gazed down at you in astonishment.

From his perspective, the moon was absolutely gorgeous, but not as gorgeous as you. Sanji thought he might cry, still in disbelief that he got to have and pleasure someone as beautiful as you. Your watery brown eyes looking up at him with so much love, your locs sprawled out all over the pillows and yet framed your face perfectly. Your puffy lips in an ‘O’ shape, crying out from his purposeful thrusts. Your brown skin seemed to be glowing with how the moon shone on you. In his eyes, your beauty outshone all the stars in the sky, your angelic voice reaching the Heavens at this point. 

It’s almost as if that was his goal with how fast he was going. 

His slender hands lifted your lower body, wrapping your smooth legs around his waist to push himself in deeper. The blonde craned his head back and moaned, feeling your velvety walls clamp around his cock in a vice grip. His breath hitched, slamming his hips into you even harder and rolling his mushroom head into that one spot that made your toes curl. The bed creaked and croaked underneath the two of you, and it was absolutely certain that Nami would give you shit for how loud you’re being.

“Gimme another one, cherie, pretty please..” He weakly begged of you. His fingers rubbed over your clit rapidly and you groaned, the amount of pleasure overwhelming you. Your whole body shook as a silent moan escaped. Your walls squeezed again and the tension in your belly released. “S-Sanji-!”

“That’s it, princess. Let go for me” he encouraged you. He mewled as you reached your high for seemingly the fifth time tonight, your juices gushing all over his pelvis and all over your thighs. His curly brows scrunched together and tears began to swell in his eyes, groaning as he filled your walls with his warm, sticky load. You have never felt fuller than this moment. 

His body curled over you, his hot labored breath in your ear. He turned to you, moving a loc out of his way to plant a soft kiss on your forehead. “Happy birthday, my sweet Y/N.”

“Thank you Sanji.” You smiled lovingly and he returned your expression. Once you calmed your breathing, you reached your hand up to caress his cheek. Sanji was eager to lean into your touch, swooning at how adorable you looked in your after-coitus glow. Suddenly his eyes widened in realization. “I almost forgot.”

He then reached over and took your panties in his grasp, stuffing them in the deep recesses of his pants pocket. You furrowed your brows at his actions, even though you knew good and well what the reason was.

“For safe keeping.” He grinned. He was gonna keep the pair as a reminder of tonight.

“You play too damn much!” You laughed, lightly smacking his shoulder. He laughed with you, stretching back on the bed and collecting you in his arms. Peppering your face in little kisses, he looked up at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Would you like to go again? You’re welcome to ride me if you want, you are the birthday girl after all.”

[loaksbitch]

imagine step daddy jake giving you the sloppiest, coochie pulsing, back arching head right after you get back from your failed training day yes? DEFINITELY YES.

warnings – tw stepcest cunnilingus. face riding, face grinding, kissing, palming (if it’s a thing) jake calls himself daddy once, age gap (18+ reader) growling, hair pulling… that’s it? lmk if i missed anything.

“i want you to fuck my face” — jake sully (⨳)

you’re sitting on top of him, straddling his abs and amber eyes watching him attentively, he places his hands on your hip and pulls you up to his chest.

“what are you doing?” you were fast to ask but he only hums, sensing your nervousness. you’re not sure what he’s up to but the way he scrunches his nose and adjusts himself under you makes your body hot.

you feel your pussy pulse, your slick already damping your loincloth. you scoot closer to him, already sitting on his chest now, he smiles while comfortingly holding onto your hips.

“jake.” you sternly call for your step dad when he again tries to pull you up closer to him, to his face but his next words cause your walls to clench on nothing but air.

“i want you to fuck my face.”

at first you thought he was joking, messing with you to make you forget about your harsh training day even but no, jake actually was dead serious when he said he wanted you to suffocate him.

“don’t be nervous now princess, daddy promises it will feel good.” his deep voice makes your thighs tremble and jake doesn’t fail to notice it.

you look down at him, backtracked with his head between your legs. “wait, what are you doing?” jake lifts his eyes from your swollen and covered breast to your face.

“you know what i am exactly gonna do.” he glares at you.

you’re not new to his earth-y sex positions but this one was introduced to you right now. right the moment your mother left after having an argument with you, jake was placing himself under you.

telling you he wants you to fuck his face.

“we gotta hurry up before mama gets back, yeah?” jake says. you on other hand, place your hands on his chest and speak, “shouldn’t i face the other way then?”

jake doesn’t know if you’re doing this purposefully but fuck was he getting pissed. “i just told you i want you to fuck my face.” and right before you open your mouth of another question jake pushes you above his head and immediately unties your loincloth from your body.

you don’t even know what’s going on until he has you completely naked and above him, straddling his head.

you gasp when he flattens his tongue and licks your slit, humming when your wetness hits his tongue. “jake,” you’re trying to pry yourself away from the painful pleasure but his large hands are securely placed on your hips.

your hands are placed on the headboard of your bed, looking down to see the man who claimed to be your non-biological father staring right to your eyes. you moan and he feels his cock twitch under his loincloth.

now jake has closed his eyes, listening to your soft sighs and hitching breath. he parts your folds with his tongue, swirling it about your opening and making your hips buck.

his tongue eases into your tight cunt, taking every drop of your slick nectar. “oh,” your jaw drops, leaving a long moan out when jake makes sure his nose is grazing against your clit.

your hands sought to his deadlocks, tugging on them when he pulled his tongue out to give your sensitive nub the attention it deserves. you mewl loudly when he softly sucks on it, making your thighs tighten against his head.

jake brings his hand from your hips down to your legs and pushes them wider, the action giving him more space to eat you out.

he sucked and flicked your clit with his tongue and at the same time heard your moan getting louder. it was a sign you’re finding your way to your climax. you tasted so good he was so desperate to get more and more out of you.

jake only wanted one wish, to get you to cum on his face, in his mouth, and paint all over his chin and neck with your juices.

the restraining being unbearable, jake reached down to palm his clothed dick. he doesn’t miss how your attention gets caught when he moves his arm down,

“let me help you,” you sign out. “let me turn around and help you.”

jake hummed negatively, wanting you to just sit on his face and use him as a tension reliever. he moved his head side to side while fucking your cunt with his face, causing his flat nose to nudge your clit.

you moaned louder, body curving when the new pleasure stricked. “i can do that for you if you would let me.” your soft voice and sighs mixed was driving him insane, making him palm himself harder.

he opened his eyes, watching your nipples erect and your head thrown back. he shook his head again, side to side.

you exhale a desperate sigh, “no?”

with each answer he hummed and shook his head, you moaned louder and louder. jake could feel your clit pulsing and he understood why. you’re asking him questions on purpose, the way hums sending vibration all over your cunt and pleasing you.

you’re being held closer and tighter, making sure you won’t jump away from the simulation. “mhm.” he louder groaned, causing your eyes to shoot open.

your hands are pulling on his locks making the pain pleasurable for him to hiss.

“do it again, jake do— fuck!” you whine and jake can feel his precum leaking out of his clothed tip and wetting his cloth. he never heard you curse and now? doing it all with a breathy moan? oh how it was so fucking hot of you.

he stopped palming himself, brining his hand to your body and caressing every inch of you while he fucked your cunt with his tongue. he was smoothly running his hands over your thighs, growling when you pull hard on his hair

jake could just happily die like this, you pressing yourself on him so hard that he can barely breath. “jake, jake…jak–“ you stop, your walls clenching and him noticing how your clit was throbbing.

he caresses your thighs, moving his head side to side and grazing against your nub.

your slick arousal was now painting his face just like he dreamed it would be. he doesn’t need or will find anyone like you, not even his wife…your mother will satisfy him like this.

you’re such a cute fuckhole for him.

gentle licks and circles being drawn on your clit as you came undone above him. your amber eyes eventually opened, looking at him and how the tip of his nose to half of his face is shining with your mess but your step father only smiles, his eyes almost disappearing.

you get off from him, placing yourself on the bed. jake sat up and used your loincloth to wipe his shining face.

once done wiping and cleaning himself, he took your small hands to him and pulled you close to him, you’re still messy between your thighs while your brain is fogged.

“feels good right?” you hear him say chuckling, “had you squirming all on me, baby.” his left hand pushes your right leg to the side, bringing your already damp loincloth to wipe the side of your plushy thighs.

“you taste so good.” he leans to give you a kiss, your eyes closing and leaning more to him. “thank you.” you say to him and looks straight to your eyes,

“don’t thank me, lover girl, i’m here to fulfil anything for you.” he tucks your hair strands behind your ear. “you were so fucking hit by the way.” he says and your cheeks warm.

you’re suddenly getting all in fours when jake stops you, “gonna make you feel good too,” you tell him, trying to get down on him. “no, no it’s fine i’ll take care of it myself.”

he will probably jerk off while imaging you.

you don’t say anything when he brings you up to him, cuddling you close before telling you you must rest, because after all you had the most tiring day.

from failing your training to fucking your step daddy’s face.

reuploading cause i accidentally deleted the post *cries* — typos are definitely there cause i didn’t proofread and i’m heading to bed lmao (or not)

like + reblogs are super appreciated and not pressured! i love each and everyone of you guys sm. ** mwah!

[teyamsatan]

Okay bestie !! I have another one hehe :P

Imagine Neteyam and Mate who made a deal because they fought for some reason. This leading to the fact that they can't stand eachother so they figure out that they shouldn't have seggs* until one of them loses (y'know because it's in these moments that they are the closer and they just wanna see whose the "weakest").

So there would be this permanent tension and quite of teasing. And the stubbornness the two of them are would refuse to lose this stupid bet even though the desire is damn high... lol

I don't know if it made sense. But it's funny and I am sure you'll make an amazing oneshot out of this (If you decide to write it).

Yeah that's it lovely 💕 muah

Oh and I don't know if you would do these emoji anon things 🤷🏻‍♀️ So I just leave mine here in case hihi 🍨

Hi bestie, sorry for taking me so long, but better late than never i hope x

of course you can be my 🍨 anon!!

wc: 895 words

minors DNI!!!

The tensions in your and your mate's tent were running high, so high you felt they were about to ascend too far up and run orbits around Pandora and come back to you in just a couple minutes. You were both calm people, you thought. You were rational, and tried to solve your issues with logic and empathy. You always listened to each other's point of view and always adjusted yours if it was necessary. Your relationship was the epitome of a healthy, adult relationship and yet, here you were, giving each other dirty looks and silent treatments, for the second day in a row.

"Well, if you're gonna be such an asshole about it, don't even think about make-up sex, or angry sex, or any sort of sex. There will be a lot of apologising that needs to happen before I even consider it again."

"What makes you think I want to have sex with you? You should be the one apologising, you're in the wrong. Also, I'd like to see you try to keep your insatiable little hands away from me. You're a fiend."

"Ha! That's a good one. I bet you're going to come crawling by the end of today."

"Fine. I'll see your bet and raise you one. Whoever caves first gets to be the one to tell Kiri we used all of her very valuable oil she spent months collecting as massage oil so we can role-play."

You watched annoyedly as Neteyam was getting dressed in a new loincloth that hung so damn attractively off his hips, it was making your mouth water. He picked up an intricate, embellished neck piece, one of his favourites (that you made him) and you smirked when he struggled to tighten it around his neck. You made your way to him slowly, enjoying every moment he was struggling, picturing his pout as he knew he needed your help, but was too stubborn to ask, almost as if you were looking straight at it.

You made it a point to drag your fingers up his back gently, slowly, in barely-there touches that you knew he was crazed for, until your hands found his necklace. You felt the small shudder escape him and your smirked widened, almost able to taste the sweet nectar of victory on your tongue.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

Your smirk was promptly erased off your face as he turned, and his eyes, dark and mischievous, glistened with so much arousal, so much ache, it was making you wet just taking it all in, and the man didn't even touch you yet. He was right, you were a fiend. His hand raised to brush your face, and he lowered his head to capture your lips in a kiss, gentle and innocent, that you fought with every fibre of your being to keep that way. It was his turn to grin as he heard your panted breaths loudly in his ears, and he pulled away and left the tent without another word, leaving you desperate and needy.

This continued for days, and by the end of the 5th day, you were both so fucking horny you weren't seeing straight anymore. This was your own personal hell, you concluded. And yet, somehow hell had nothing on the mere thought of letting him win, of proving to him you were weaker than him, of telling Kiri what lewd, unsavoury things you used her precious oil on.

Neteyam's mind was spinning with ache. You were good at this. Too good. He saw you getting dressed, purposefully taking your time, running your hands over your breasts, flickering your nipples almost as if it was an accident, trailing your fingers over your waist and groping your ass to check that your loincloth is tightened properly around your tail. It wasn't, as when you bent over, you gave him a full view of your soaked, dripping cunt as you wrapped beautiful, beaded ankle bracelets on both your ankles. The smell of your arousal hit him like a fucking ton of bricks and he started palming his cock to release some of the painful pressure he has felt for days now. It turns out working and being a productive member of society with a constant erection was harder than Neteyam had anticipated when he made the bet - pun intended.

Fuck this.

You could hear Neteyam. Hear his heaving chest as his eyes landed on you, hear the way he was exhaling through his nose a lot more forcefully than he had just a few seconds ago. You could feel the air in the tent changing, charging, becoming thick with need and anticipation. You knew you won, but you still gasped in shock at the hand that wrapped around your queue and hair, pulling your head backwards, and at the feel of Neteyam's hard cock prodding at your sopping entrance.

"You're not playing fair, yawne. And if I have to crawl on my knees and beg for forgiveness just to feel your pussy milking me dry, I'll do it over and over again. So you win. But you might regret it tomorrow when you're limping on the way to the next mission."

You moaned and smiled at the threat. You couldn't wait.

"Don't leave out any details when you talk to your sister. I want to see you suffer."

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 (pt.8)

PART 7 // PART 9 // THE FULL MASTERLIST

ෆ DABI X HAWKS’ LITTLE SISTER

ෆ cw: Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, corruption kink, smut and noncon/ dubcon.

ෆ A/N: this chapter took so long to come out :<<. My schedule is very busy and I don’t always have the energy/motivation to write, but I won’t stop writing this fic. I’m happy to see that yall are sticking around~

[Dabi’s POV]

By the time I get back to the hideout, the sun is rising as the early hours of morning approach. A normal person would be tired, depraved of sleep after a restless night. But not me.

I lick my lips, the taste of her sweet nectar still lingering in my mouth. I’m high, utterly addicted to her and her flavor, my blood pumping with adrenaline and full of energy. I’ve tried different kinds of drugs in my life, but this… this tops everything. I’m so tempted to go back there, spread those legs apart and eat the life out of her again and again. Just so I can get more of those delicious moans and cries, more of those soft thighs squeezing my head between them, more of her sweet cunt fluttering on my tongue. It took everything in me to not stuff her full of my cock too, the bulge in my pants growing and pressing tight against the fabric as I edged myself to her moans.

Though I have to be patient with my angel. Need to give her brain some time to comprehend everything that happened, all the shame and regret she’s about to feel and overcome soon enough. Had to give her a glimpse of what I can do to her, in order to have her addicted and needy for me.

I chuckle to myself, remembering the way she’d keep watch every night, ready to fight and shoo me away in case I came around. Actin’ all high and mighty, as if her pussy wasn’t clenching just at the mere thought of me.

You really need to step up your game if you wanna get rid of me, princess. But either way, I always win. And you’ll always be mine.

“You seem too energetic for someone who’s been out all night”

I find Compress sitting on the couch as I walk inside.

“Nothing escapes your eyes huh Mister?” I smirk, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of my pocket.

“I can quite assure you that’s not the case, though we all can’t help but notice the sudden change in you, Dabi”

I quirk an eyebrow, turning at him. “How so?”

“You seem more lost in thoughts during meetings and such. Not that you’ve ever been fond of them I know, but this time it’s quite different” Compress says. “I wonder what keeps you so distracted from the only mission we’re dedicating our lives to”.

I feel anger slowly creeping inside of me, irritation clear on my face.

“You trynna scold me now or somethin’? I told ya from the beginning, this whole lieutenant thing never worked for me, I choose to focus on more necessary things than playing commander and soldiers.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to scold you” Compress shakes his head. “I don’t have any intention to do so, we all trust your capabilities. Though all we’ve been is just.. curious”

Tch. So they really want to know my life outside of the League huh. Can’t mind their own business can they?

From outside the door I hear a faint noise and whispers. I roll my eyes. “For how long will you two nutsacks spy behind that door?”

Immediately the door opens, Toga and Twice both entering inside, looking defeated.

“I told you to keep quiet Jin!” Toga scoffs.

“Did these two send you to make me spill some information?” I turn at Compress, who was now scratching his neck.

“Well…” he shrugs. “That may be the case”

“Oh come on Dab!!” Toga squeals. “I just want to know your secret girlfriend~”

The psycho is more than convinced that I have a girlfriend. Technically, she isn’t wrong. Even though she is delusional most of the time, she has a sharp eye when it comes to such things. Hell, she even had the audacity to tell me one day that I am in love. I held back the urge to puke.

A man like me could never feel love.

“And I really want to know why you can’t mind your own business for once, nutjob”

“It’s already boring in here!” she pouts. “No romance whatsoever, a girl like me needs some adventure and passion in her life!”

I roll my eyes. “Slaughtering people isn’t adventurous enough for you, huh?”

Toga turns at me again, grinning. “Not as adventurous as you sneaking out at night to meet some secret girl that you never tell anybody about~”

“Some secret girl?”

Everyone turns their heads to the direction where the familiar playful voice came from.

Ah, yes.. Hawks.

A smug grin spreads across my face as he enters our headquarters, already with a can of coffee in his hands.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, bird boy?” I raise my eyebrow and Hawks chuckles.

“Nah don’t mind me man, just trying to blend in and join the conversation..” he responds. “Seems like you all are talking over something that isn’t the mission for once. That’s rare to witness”

“We must not let such useless topics distracts us from our main goal!” Twice says. “Huh- Yeah I know man! Dabi has a secret girl that he never tells us about, can you imagine?!”

A suffocating silence enveloped the whole room, and I held back the urge to laugh and at the same time burn Twice’s ass for never shutting up. Toga seems to scoff in annoyance, pinching his arm. The blondie never trusted Hawks, nor did she like having conversations around him, can’t really blame her.

Meanwhile the hero in question is confused, that smile still frozen in his face as his eyebrows furrow.

“What’s with that face huh?” I snicker. “You never thought a man like me would possibly have a girlfriend?”

“Heh.. maybe” Hawks scratches his neck. “Never thought any of you guys would be interested in relationships and stuff, none of my business though.. good for ya!”

I can hear the uncertainty filling his voice. Poor hero, he can’t possibly think it’s his own sister now.. when he trusts her so much. What a shame.

Little does he know the taste of her sweet cunny is still rolling on my tongue as I lick my lips.

Lately everything happening is simply funny to me. Funny how a trusted hero of society is secretly part of a villainous organisation. Funny how the same hero is not loyal to the cause even though he pretends so hard to be. Funny how the hero’s sister is so needy for the dangerous villain, grinding her cunt on his face until she cums. And the most funny of it all: how clueless the said hero is about everything, despite from having sharp eyes and ears.

“Dabi, let’s have a word” Hawks says, heading outside. I follow, hands in my pockets, walking slowly behind him. At first we talk about the secret mission with the High-End nomu. After one week of preparing, the mission will take place tomorrow by the docks, then I can easily test my pet nomu and at the same time the hero’s loyalty. I’m curious to see which hero will tag along with Hawks tomorrow and fall in this little trap.

***

Later today I decide to pay my angel a visit after she finishes school. Wearing my hoodie and sunglasses, I hide in the shadows, keeping my distance from the building which she comes out from. Books in her arms as she walks without a care in the world wearing that short little skirt, her white wings fluttering in the wind. Gorgeous as always, I have the need to pounce at her at any moment. I look around to see if anybody has their eyes on her, ready to burn their brains out if they stare at what’s mine for too long.

I wait for the perfect moment until she reaches an empty road on her way home. Sure as hell she feels that somebody is nearby, looking at the way she turns back, all nervous. A scaredy little mouse worrying for any predators lurking nearby.

I decide to approach her normally, certain she might be still thinking of last night, maybe still afraid of me.

“Headin’ home angel?” I say slyly, hands in my pockets as I walk casually towards her. Still she gets startled, a soft blush covering her cheeks. Stopping in her tracks, she looks at me as if I am a ghost, her mouth falling open to say something but no words coming out.

“What.. got something in my face?” I come closer, touching my face while grinning at her. “Or you just too baffled since last night?”

“N-No it’s just.. what are you doing here? I told you I don’t wanna see you..” she stutters.

“Can’t I come to visit you under normal circumstances? Then you complain when I break in,” I laugh, watching her funny face expressions as she goes through different emotions, one of them clearly embarrassment.

“Just go away!”

“That’s not what you said last night.. my neck still hurts from how tight you wrapped those thighs arou-”

She has the audacity to push me away with both hands, but all she does is get on my nerves instead. I grab her wrist before she tries to get away, pulling her towards me.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t want to see me anymore.. c’mon!” I growl, lifting her by the chin to make her look at me. Her whole face is almost glowing red, too flustered to even keep proper eye contact.

“Dabi.. s-stop!” she whimpers.

“Look at me. And say it.” I whisper threateningly, my face inches away from hers. As she looks back at me, her mouth fails to let the words out. Already uncertain and confused with her feelings, I might say I got her wrapped around my finger.

“I just.. the way you do things scares me..” she murmurs, looking up at me through her lashes. “Breaking in and stalking me.. it’s.. makes me feel uncomfortable and-”

“But you still like it don’t cha?” I interrupt her, and she bites her lip nervously. It takes everything in me to not crash my lips against hers, biting that plump lower lip until it bleeds. She doesn’t give me a proper answer, but her silence is answer enough for me.

“Knew it. You like the danger don’t cha?” I smirk. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

She closes her eyes, clearly too embarrassed to admit all of this as I read her mind.

“If you become mine.. I’ll give you whatever you want” I touch her lower lip with my thumb, whispering in her ear. I grab her by the hips, pulling her closer towards me. “I’ll give you the feeling you experienced last night.. and even more. Make you see the stars every night, wouldn’t you like that hm?”

She hums in response, shivering at my words and my touch while accepting my embrace.

“Speak doll.. y’know, I can’t do anything without your consent..”

The glare she gives me makes me laugh, knowing well enough that me touching her as she slept was far from consensual. Not that I need her consent for me to make her mine, I’m just putting on an act.

“That’s funny coming from you..” she pouts.

“Ah c’mon, you didn’t tell me stop though~”

“That’s because you kept my mouth shut,” she scoffs. I raise both hands in defeat.

“Tch, alright sorry.. this time I’ll be a good guy and ask for consent m’kay?”

“That’s the bare minimum you idiot!” she yells and I laugh again, certainly irritating her more. I can’t get enough of her when she’s mad, it makes my cock twitch, need to fuck that angry face until she is a gagging crying mess.

Soon.

“Let me make it up to you tonight, princess,” I reply. “I’ll take you out on a date, and I promise to not do anything creepy. Give me another chance will ya? I promise to make it worthwhile~”

She stops to think for a moment, scratching her neck nervously and letting out a deep breath. Clearly fighting with the demons in her head. Love to see it.

“Alright..fine” she sighs. “I guess I can give this another chance.”

From the way I ate you out, m’sure you’ll keep giving me more chances.

“Ah, just perfect..” I grin, patting her head. “See ya later then, sweetheart. Make sure your brother doesn’t interrupt us again”

She nods shyly, smiling a little as I kiss her forehead before parting ways. Going on dates and shit like that have never been in my focus, nothing but distractions from my goals. But for a reason, I feel thrilled to take my angel out tonight, show her a real good time that she’ll never forget.

🏷️tags: @dabislittlebeaniebaby @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @touyalove @awalkingshame @syrenkitsune @dabihawksluva

[satanprotectsme]

Baby's First Heat

Alpha!Eddie Munson x Omega!Reader - Smut

A/N This is the first smut I'm posting onto here so I really hope it's okay!! There isn't much plot... but who cares!

Summary: With Eddie being a couple years older than you, he presented as an alpha a while ago. Along with your presentation as an omega, came your first heat. Eddie's there to coach you through it.

Warnings: A/B/O, pain kink, biting kink, piv sex, oral f!receiving, breeding kink, established relationship,

wc: 1.5k

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I wasn’t been able to lull myself to sleep at all last night, my body incalescent. I tore my nightgown off, assuming it was just another torrid, Indiana night, until it got worse. There was hot, sultry, slick pouring out of my pussy. I reach my hand between my legs. I had no clue what was going on with me, but it was 2 in the morning, and that was the solution.

But now it's about 10 am, and I've been rubbing my dripping folds for hours. Mewls wrestling their way past my lips, racking my whole body along with them. I shove my face into Eddie's worn out Metallica t-shirt, tightly clamping my thighs together.

He only goes to school like, once a week, and it had to be today? My phone ringing startles me, making me hurtle myself out of bed. Pulling it to my ear, the voice on the other side makes even more slick pour between my legs.

"Sweetheart? You told me you'd be at school today, where are you? I only came to see-"

"Eds," I breathe. "Please come over, need you s' bad."

"Being horny is not an excuse to not come to-"

"I think I-I presented Eddie, please, it- it hurts so fucking bad," I sob, my biceps quivering at my feeble attempt to hold myself up.

"Oh shit, I knew something was up last night. Give me ten minutes, tops," the phone buzzed as he hung up. I couldn't hold myself upright long enough to place it on the reciever, the coil keeping it from slamming against the floor.

God, how could ten minutes feel like years? My humility dead and buried six feet under, I start to rut my weeping cunt on the duvet. My clit's red and raw, the knit fabric creating a throbbing feeling on my heat . Clamping the ear of my big teddy between my teeth, I try to hold back the pathetic noises from leaving my lips.

When I hear a tap on my window, I squeak. I reach over and unlock it, my body not having enough power to push it open for him. He crawls through, hurridly kicking his boots off.

"Fuck, your slick smells so sweet, nectarous, sweetheart " Eddie sighs, pulling me close. With one hand tangled in my hair, and one on my mound, he pushes me to the bed. “Shoulda’ called me earlier Omega, what if another Alpha smelt you from outside?”

“S-sorry Eddie,” I whine softly into his ear, he laughs softly.

“I bet you’d let any Alpha in here to satiate you, to imprint you with his scent, yeah?” He caresses my thighs, awaiting my response.

“No Alpha! Only wan’ you Eds, you‘re the only Alpha I want please!” I wail, grabbing his head and pulling him into me.

Our lips slam together, our teeth clashing in the process, but care and inhibition were thrown out the window. My heads fuzzy. Eddie’s musky, forest scent coalesces beautifully with my sweet, vanilla aroma, emobodying our dynamic. Unravelling our lips, they drift down to my neck, not hesitating to sink his canines into the flesh. His tongue traces the marks buried in my flesh. Deep, chocolate eyes, hazy with lascivousness, gaze up at me. "Can I taste you, baby?"

"Please Alpha! 'S all I want, please!" I whine, wrapping my fingers into his hair. Eddie pulls his jacket off and brings himself face level to my folds. As slick pours out of me, Eddie presses his face against my thigh, inhaling my aroma. He sucks a small, violet mark into my inner thighs, running his tongue higher and higher until he reaches my heat. When he flattens his tongue against my pussy, I can't help but to squeal, pushing Eddie's head closer to my cunt. A single tear rolling down my face, I wrap my legs around his head.

"You taste so fucking good, my Omega, taste even sweeter than you smell," He sighs before sucking my clit between his lips. His saccharine words make more slick release from my cunt, my body behaving without input. Pushing two fingers between my folds, his tongue flicks my clit back and forth in a hypnotic pattern. A moan gets caught in my throat when I feel his fingers bruise my g-spot.

I couldn’t tell if it was because of my desperate frenzy, but this was the best head he’s ever given me. With my hands tangled in his curls, I tug on his hair. He growls and bites down on my clit. I whimper and wrap my legs around his head.

"Fuck! I'm gonna cum my alpha! Can I? Please?"

"Of course my Omega, cum all over my face," The second I process his permission, slick pours from my folds as I howl, grinding my cunt on his lips. My cum squirts from between my folds, spattering all over Eddie's face. He moans, eyes rolled back into his skull. "Good girl, my sweet and perfect omega."

"Thank you Alpha!" I pull him by his hair so I can press a hot kiss on his lips, something that had been overlooked until now. When my tongue tangles with his, I can taste my own cum. I whine into his mouth. He pulls away from me, unbuckling his belt. The second his clothes are off, I'm pulling him back into my embrace, yearning for the feeling of my alpha's skin against mine. He grinds his cock against my soaked thighs. I hold his shoulders, pushing my hips into his.

"You want this cock, Omega?" He growls into my ear. I whimper, hastily nodding my head. “Use your words, gorgeous.”

"Please Alpha! It hurts so bad! I need ur big cock stuffed inside of me! Need you to knot me and fill me with your babies! Please!” I beg and plead. Eddie just chuckles and starts pushing the tip in, finally mounting me. The insert definitely burns, his dick stretching my cunt to its limits, but the slick helped him slip in. When his sack pressed against me, he stills, licking away the tears that are streaming along my hot, roseate complexion. The hormones blurring his judgement, Eddie immediately starts thrusting his cock in and out of my cunt. The pornographic squelching sounds are almost as loud as my moans.

Enfolding me in his embrace, I scratch my nails down Eddie’s spine, he growls in my ear. My face buried in his neck, his musk deluging my senses, a thick fog clouding my senses. Barely holding my eyes open, I pull myself back, wanting to stare into Eddie’s eyes. His salacious gaze keeping me still, a smirk drawn perfectly on his lips. A primal growl leaves his lips as he reaches down to rub my clit.

"You're doing so good my little Omega, being such a good girl for her first heat," Eddie praises me. I nod, wanting to thank him, but all I can do is babble with each thrust of his hips. "Want me to mark you up? Imprint you so no other alpha will ever come near you? Want everyone to know you belong to me?"

"Please Alpha! C-claim me! Mark me with your scent!" I wail. A carnal, animalistic howl rips through Eddie's chest as he grips my waist, pulling me down onto his cock. I replace his finger, that was once on my clit with my own. "Fuck, Alpha! Can I cum? W-wanna cum all over your dick. Want you to fill me with your knot, please!"

"Cum for me, omega, gonna fill you up. My scent is going to be leaking off of you for days," With his permission, the speed on my clit is hurried, trying to rush myself to the edge.

"Thank you Alpha!" I moan, holding him close as I convulse. Wrapping my legs around him, I enclose him between my thighs, clasping him as his knot expands inside of me. Gasping for air, but it's all thick with aphrodesia, syrupy and saccharine with our mixing scents. A goofy smile takes over Eddie's lips, a stark contrast to the pointed smirk he's been wearing since he got here.

"We- uh- might be stuck here for a while," He chuckles, petting my hair. I look down, his knot bulging in my stomach. Eddie presses down on it, making me whimper and turn my head away from him. He leans down, whispering in my ear. "You're all mine now, my sweet, little omega."

"Just wan- be yours," I babble, my brain still incoherent, just happy to be claimed. "Thank you Eds," I whimper, a little smile matching my cloudy eyes.

"Of course sweetheart, but you'll have plenty of time to thank me, I don't think I'm leaving for the next few days."

[synnamonroll666]

I Only Have Eyes For You

Prompt 8: Voyeurism/NonCon Pairing: Syzoth X Fem!Reader Description: One night, Syzoth's curiosity gets the better of him. So he uses his ability to turn invisible for more lewd purposes... Warnings: Masturbation (Female Receiving), Voyeurism, NonCon (If you knew, you'd want it anyway. 😉)... Word Count: 582 A/N: Unfortunately, the final edited version of this got deleted. I don't know what happened but I am so disappointed because it was so damn good and it as proud. But I managed to get it as close to what it was as possible. 😅 I hope you all enjoy it! 💚 Main MasterList: 🖤 Kinktober MasterList: 🖤 Synny's Angels: @lorebite, @mornandil, @queenkhepri, @bihansthot.

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She lays on her bed before me, legs spread out as her fingers world fastly to bring forth her climax. She doesn't know I am here, and I feel bad about that. Yet I continue to watch as she eagerly writhes against her bedsheets. I can tell her small fingers are barely enough to get herself off, but she still fights for the high she craves.

I stand at the edge of her bed, afraid to move or make a sound. But it is hard not to groan and palm myself through my pants due to this gorgeous sight. I lick my lips as I begin to crave her touch—her taste. Watching the slick run down her fingers and hand as she pumps her digits into herself is enough to get my mouth watering. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like to lean forward and dart my tongue out for just a small taste of her sweet nectar, or even drag my tongue along the crevice between her soft breasts to taste the layer of sweat that was gathering within it. 

Still, I refrain from any unwanted touches that she does not give consent to. I would save that for later, when I know she wants me. Until then, I will stay hidden, blended into the room as I watch her come undone on herself.

She moans out as her fingers work fast, and the sweet sounds she makes are like music to my ears. I want to be the one to make her make noises like that—to fill her up and listen to her moan and beg me for more. Her voice is by far the most intoxicating thing I have ever come close to, and I know nothing else could compare to it.

And then a name falls from her lips that I would have never expected to hear her speak in this manner.

"Syzoth!" She cries as she thrusts her slender digits into herself at a faster pace.

My eyes widen in surprise and excitement upon hearing this, and suddenly, the whole room feels a hundred degrees higher. The way my name drips from her mouth like sweet honey has me melting for her. I can barely keep myself from jumping on top of her right then and there, but I manage to maintain my composure.

As she reaches her climax, I lean forward—resting my hands on either side of her on the mattress—to study her features more closely. Her jaw falls open as she lets out the most heavenly sounds—sounds that make my heart flutter and my pants get tighter. As she rides through her orgasm, her eyes roll into the back of her head as her chest rises and falls quickly with each breath she takes—each breath I take from her, as I am just close enough to do so.

Once she falls limp as she comes back down from her high, I lean forward and press a soft and tender kiss to her sweat-soaked forehead, and she barely reacts—barely even notices due to her post-orgasm daze.

I smile down at her as I take in her beautiful state once more—hair a mess, skin lathered in sweat and flushed, pretty and exhausted expression upon her features—before quietly leaving the room to let her rest in peace. Though as I vanish from the premises, I make a promise to myself that the next time she would use fingers to pleasure herself, they will be mine.

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[dracaesusurro]

May Eywa be our witness pt3

Pairing: Netayam x female reader

Genre: fluff, little angst, mating mentions, sensual scenes, mature

Summary: part 3 to the last two fics !!!!!

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As she ran after him she saw he was about to get on his Ikran and called out to him, “neteyam, Nete wait, one moment..” she thought he would just fly off but he slowly retreated and walked towards her. She wanted to talk but he grabbed both her forearms and stared into her eyes. “Ma y/n you don’t have to go through with this, his delusional! You can’t mate with some water Na’vi you don’t love, what about your choice, what about me!?” You couldn’t agree more but what else could you do, “what do you expect me to do Nete? We can’t be, and if Jake found out it would be a worst fate then to mate with another…” he dropped your hands and scoffed lightly “a worst fate then watching the one you love mate with a stranger, anybody who’s not you? Are you hearing yourself y/n?! This is absurd” he expresses this looking deeply in your eyes hoping you’d meet him half way, when you stay silent, much to his dismay he begins to walk away, back to his Ikran.

“Why do you keep doing this? Putting the worlds decision on my shoulder, why do you enjoy my pain neteyam!?” She is exhausted, of being composed, the understanding one, the one who listens and takes it all. “I don’t ever enjoy your pain, understand me, see me, your pain is my pain my y/n! Why do you insist otherwise” there’s a minimal space in between the two yet it feels yards away, years even. He feels years away. “Then why can’t you see my point, I’m trying to save you from my fate why do you have to be so goddamn stubborn” she’s in tears yelling yet her voice is not as loud as she’d like it to be, it’s faint. “Because I love you, what kind of life do you expect me to live without you huh” he lifts your chin with his hand, getting you to look at him, he studies your face, the other hand on your waist keeping you balanced, “a world without you, isn’t a world suitable for me, listen, hear me, I give myself to you for life, I am yours mind, body and soul. Damn whoever that says otherwise, if we have to fight for our love then I’m willing to do it with my life but I need you by my side, you need to choose me…”

His words felt like a prayer, a healing force, stitching your bleeding heart. You leaned into his touch kissing the palm of his hand, he smiled at you, a smile sweeter than the worlds nectar and you felt a laugh erupt from deep within, a watery happy laugh. “Your wiser than you let on my Neteyam, so wise-” your hands trailed up his chest “so brave” cupping his cheek “so mighty” your fingers tangled in his hair “and so, so beautiful” you breathed out and he could only stare at you, still waiting upon you answer, admiring everything about you silently and so you continued “my life began when I met you, my heart beat for the first time when I saw your smile and my world changed by your first touch. Your world is mine and I am as every bit yours, mind body and soul, I was yours from the first hello” you took a break, caught your breath and brought your face closer to him “I’ll fight with you, I’ll fight the world, the demons, anyone who stands in our way neteyam I’ll fight them for you, Nga yawne lu oer ma neteyam” your foreheads lent against each other a laugh escaped your lips and he soon followed, a relived laugh, happy, hopeful, free.

You didn’t know where the world would take you from here but you Followed him, you trusted the great mother and you let him lead you. He flew you to a river, a breathtaking sight, it was his favorite place he said a place he seeks to hide, to calm himself, a place he needs when he doesn’t have you. He sat you by a tree, golden branches glowing in the black of the night, it was a dream, it all seemed like a dream.

Your head was tilted up admiring the beautiful branches, he was silent, you looked down to see him staring at you “what are you staring at?” You asked teasingly with a genuine smile. “At the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen” he had a way with words, he knew it and so did you. “Oh stop it, you’re being foolish” you giggled looking away from him, your ears a crimson color. “Foolish?! Come here I’ll show you foolish you beautiful girl” before you could react he pulled you into his lap kissing you all over the face and neck, little kisses straying fast but as your laughter died down, so did his speed. He left memories with each kiss, behind your ear, your jaw, your neck, and back up to your face. “Neteyam, I choose you” you stare into his bright eyes, your hands around his neck, “I chose you a long time ago yawne” you brought your lips to his, a slow motion turned passionate his tail brushing against your waist and up your arms before yours began to entangle with his, neteyam leaned forward laying you down on the bed of grass, he looked at you, you grabbed your queue and held it towards him smiley silently your lips inches away from his. He connected his to yours and when you felt the bond a gasp left both of you, a sudden electric motion running through your bodies, neteyam was quick to bring his lips down to yours his hands roaming your body, a moan escaped you lips vibrating against his mouth, this only made him deepen the kiss further, there was nothing between you, no space, the two of you molded into one. With every motion a sound escaped your mouth and that only fed Neteyam’s pride.

As you pulled away you could see the happiness radiating off Neteyam’s body. He looked up at you and smiled, it was almost a sheepish grin, “I was yours mind and soul before but you can add body to the list now” he chuckled his voice sending waves of heat into you heart. “Nete..” you gasped slapping his arm.

He smiled widely before shoving his head into the crook of your neck to savor this moment and you with it, he took a deep breath and laid with you, you relaxed under his grasp, during your moment all you could think about was your love for him, but there are things that had skipped your mind, “neteyam..” you stared off carefully not wanting to anger him, he rose his head to look into your eyes, you cupped his face and stared for a moment. He sat up slightly worried at your features, you hadn’t noticed your frown having been lost in thought. “What is it my y/n what’s in your thoughts?” You didn’t want to ruin this moment but you had to bring it up, it was inevitable.

“What am to do, with the arrangements?” His soft Look faltered, the reminder brought him rage, but when he looked at you all those feelings vanished, he could only feel your love, “whatever we have to do we’ll do it together. You are my mate, we’re bonded for life, they can’t separate us ever” he kisses your forehead softly then your lips, you close your eyes and sigh.

“I’m never going to get used to these kisses, they’re becoming a life source for me” you chuckled leaning your forehead against his chest, his touch relaxed every worry you’ve ever worn.

“I am yours entirely, all these kisses are reserved for you and only you, for the rest of our lives, I promise this to you, may Eywa be our witness”

“Ma neteyam, my eternal love is promised to you, may Eywa be my witness”

He hugged you tightly against his chest leaving his chin on top of your head, “if only you could promise to not be so damn hot headed, your way too stubborn you worry me too much yawne”

A loud laughter erupts from you, his remarks genuine but his reached too deep, “ oh you and I both know that’s a promise I can’t keep not even in the name of Eywa” he laughed along with you, kissing your shoulders, his voice was a melody, music to your ears, that hug lasted an oblivion in your mind. And so did your bond.

Thank you for reading❤️❤️ total power couple here, there is not way in hell his letting Jake mate her off!!!!!

Leave any requests you have for more stories!! I’ll try to get to them all.

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Worship at your Alter

modern!aemond x reader smut

A/N: ok so originally this one shot was going to be based off of a line from this by the lovely @sleyu but it ended up going in a different direction and i've actually ended up pretty happy with it!

word count: 1,302 words

TW: smut, cockwarming, tummy bulge, mayhaps a little biting, the whole thing is body worship ok guys

You watch your boyfriend as he studies, a violet eye fixated on the page in front of him as he reviews the philosophy of Nietzsche. You like watching him, admiring the focused look on his face when he’s entranced by a certain passage.

“If you spent as much time looking at your homework as you do looking at me then perhaps you wouldn’t be failing pre-calc.” He says, not even looking up at you as he speaks.

“I am not failing math!” You protest insistently. His eye becomes trained on you, a look of disbelief falling upon his features. He then goes back to ignoring you and concentrating on his work. You sigh and try to look at your trig equations but they make you frustrated beyond belief, so you go back to gazing at him. Your eyes flit from his lips to his hair. You like it when he ties his hair back so you can see his face, his heavenly face. You don’t think there is a man in the world so handsome. He must’ve been delicately crafted by the gods themselves, insurmountable effort put into creating a man such as himself.

“Aemond…” You whisper softly. Your hand reaches over to touch the cuff of his button up. His gaze shifts to the wall in front of him; it seems like he is having some sort of mental battle and you wish you could know what he is thinking. His eye falls back onto the page in front of him. He ignores how captivated you seem to be by him. “Aem…” You breathe out again in a hushed tone. You lean over to press a delicate kiss to his cheek. You receive no reaction. You kiss his neck gently.

“Stop that.” He says firmly.

“I need you.” You say. You know he won’t look at you because he won’t be able to control himself if he does.

“We have finals to prepare for.” You can tell Aemond’s resolve is beginning to fade by how hard he grips his highlighter.

You grab his hand and take the highlighter from his hold. You kiss his knuckles before guiding him up your skirt. His eye is still desperately fixed on the book but he doesn’t pull away. You lead him to show how wet you are. You can’t help how enthralled you are by him; you can’t help the fact that only looking at him is enough to arouse you. “You didn’t even have to touch me and look at the effect you have had.”

He doesn’t say a word in response and you think that he may pull his hand away. He breathes heavily and it’s dead silent for a moment.

He makes his decision.

He gives you no chance to react, going straight for the neck as he kisses you ravenously.

“You’re so beautiful.” He murmurs into your skin like he’s trying to make the words imprint onto you.

“Aem…” You whimper as you tug at his shirt.

“I know, darling. I know.” He helps you with the buttons as he litters little love marks all over the curve of your neck, decorating you with hints of red.

When you pull his shirt off, your eyes blow out with desire. The sight of his chest is a stronger aphrodisiac than any chemical can induce. You drop to your knees and make quick work of his belt. The look of longing in his eyes is enough to make you dissolve into a creature that is devoted to him and him alone. You are Psyche to his Eros. You would go to the Underworld for him. You would live and die for him.

“My love…” He breathes out as you take him in your mouth. His hand moves to your hair, delicately guiding your movements but never forcing you.

You could listen to the way he moans and whimpers for hours, the sound more mellifluous than any composition by Chopin could ever be. When he spills his nectar down your throat, you drink it eagerly, wanting to please him in every way.

“My perfect girl.” He praises you, wiping the nectar from the corner of your mouth.

When you stand up, he lifts you under your thighs so he can place you gently on the desk. He flips the script when he kneels in front of you. Now you’re the goddess he worships. Aphrodite and Adonis, the only mortal man who could capture her heart so fully. You sate all of his needs. The ambrosia between your thighs is a delicacy fit only for him. You grip his hair, tugging it at the roots.

“Aemond…” You moan his name, repeating it again and again like a mantra as you feel his tongue against you.

“So fucking good.” He murmurs against you, eating you like it’s his last meal.

His tongue against your pearl, against your folds, it was only a matter of time before you reached your peak, waves of pleasure overtaking you. He stands up again and pushes his mouth against yours. You can feel his longing on his lips.

“Couldn’t be patient, could you? My needly little baby.” He teases before pulling your shirt over your head.

“You say that like you wouldn’t be crying if we stopped now.” You tease back and he nips your collarbone gently where he was working on a new mark. “Ah!” You wince even though he didn’t bite hard enough to hurt you.

“Sorry.” He says, not really meaning it as his lips move to soothe the mark. His hands move behind you to swiftly unclip your bra. If you couldn’t tell he was aroused before, then you can definitely tell now by the way his eye darkens at the sight of your bare chest. He focuses there now, giving equal attention to the left and right as he continues to leave his little love marks, groaning as he does.

“I need you now.” You manage to get out. “All of you.”

He nods and gets closer, beginning to tease your pearl with the tip of himself. You open your mouth to speak, perhaps to tell him to hurry up but you don’t need to as he slips himself in. He gives you a few moments to adjust to him, his size being something your body will likely never fully get used to. He then begins to move slowly but he hits so deep inside you that the pace doesn’t matter. His lips meet yours again and then he leaves little fluttering kisses across your face. You giggle at his actions.

“I love you so much.” He says earnestly. “There’s not a girl in the world who compares to you.” Your heart beats faster as you hear the words.

“I love you forever.” You say back to him as he begins rocking in and out of you again. He reaches so deep that you can see a bulge on your tummy when you look down.

“I’m practically a part of you now.” He says with a smirk, proud that his cock can make a physical imprint on you. His hand goes down to push on the bulge as the other plays with your pearl. Both stimulations at once has you gasping for breath.

“I’m close.” You breathe out.

“I know, my love. I am too.” He leaves another kiss on your bitten lips as he continues to thrust in and out. When he knows you’re both ready, he sheathes himself fully inside of you and lets you milk him of everything he has left. He doesn’t part himself from you, not yet. He holds you close, lifting you up so he can take you to his bed to recover. He keeps you pressed tightly against him for the rest of the night, studying long forgotten.

taglist (comment to be added): @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy

[whiskygoldwings]

what are some Fox tropes and headcanons that you like 👀 or anything else that you wanna ramble about him!

Okay!!! I am finally back at my laptop and able to give this question the proper answer it deserves!

STRAP IN KIDS WE'RE GOING FOR A RIDE!!!

HEADCANONS/TROPES

Let's be honest, considering we get about five minutes of him in the animated series and very little extra information outside of it, most of the characterisation of Fox is based on headcanon/fanon tropes. There are a few I am very particularly fond of to say the least! These aren't in any particular order, and at all times can be intermixed/left out etc etc...

The Corries are systematically abused by the Senate/the Chancellor - I won't lie, I'm a sucker for this. The Corries are strange in the show for a few reasons: no known assigned Jedi, several Commanders instead of one, non-officers appear to have the same paint job, and their remit appears to be very different to the rest of the GAR. I'm going to fail miserably at this list thing, because I already want to go off on multiple tangents that are headcanons of their own, BUT! I'm going to highlight the lack of individuality - Fics where this is described as being due to the need to protect troopers from being decommissioned/reconditioned/being singled out by Senators for numerous other nefarious reasons are like crack to me. I will drink that shit like water. It feeds into my loving Fox being a problem solver who works damn hard and damn cleverly to protect his people. The Senate abuse the guard through so many ways - dehumanisation of them being the overarching feature that makes it so easy to treat them like objects, toys for their amusement. Give me a good fic where fox paints himself like a target to take the abuse from the rest. Thorn and the other Commanders refuse to let him go it alone. They are the bulwark against the abuse reaching the rest of the guard.

Thorn painted their armour the opposite to Fox's on purpose. Yeeeeah, this is a little bit of a shippy thing. Won't lie! Not entirely; I do love the idea that thorn does it so they're clearly the highest ranking and can be targetted easily. But I'm also a complete sucker for Fox/Thorn, especially Thorn being devoted to Fox and putting him back together when it all gets too much.

Fox has scars, grey hair, and slightly more golden-brown eyes - Personal preference on the eyes thing. I just think it makes him more Fox-like. I swing between him being named Fox due to his slyness, and because of his eyes. Never written it though weirdly! Scars - heavily predicated by the Guard being abused thing. Typically I picture him with a scar through his right eyebrow (see my pfp and The Ballad), though I am very fond of the scar across the bridge of the nose look. I also, fooking love Fox having Lichtenberg scars, possibly weirdly raised and brutal-looking, due to the fact they've been caused by Sith lightning... Palp's is a bad bad man! The grey hair I headcanon being an indication of the stress his mind has been put under by Sithly intrustion/manipulation. As well as just pure fucking exhaustion.

Fox loves caff! I love coffee and exist in a constant state of fatigue. The man gets to feel both my pain and my nectar of life. Typically he has it black with no sugar, but largely because the Guard don't get frivolous things like milk and sugar! (Secretly he loves it with just one spoon of sugar and a touch of cream. Bail made it that way for him once and he nearly cried. He's been chasing that flavour ever since)

Fox loves his Guard. So much. He will do anything to keep them safe. Half of his exhaustion is caused by him taking as much onto himself as he can, including, but not limited to, the abuses of the Chancellor and other Senators. He's a professional, and it takes some convincing/manipulation/Thorn just bullying him into it, but he does love being surrounded by his Vode in a massive pile of warmth and love somewhere.

The Guard love Fox. They see and know what he does for them. They bring him little gifts and leave ration bars and the other Commanders quietly race through datawork and do their best to take what work they can from him. In stories where the GAR become hostile towards the Guard, Fox's troopers will defend him to the end. (I'm actually not fond of the GAR turning against the Guard in my own headcanon! I read and enjoy it for the angst/whump, but oftentimes I prefer any separation to be more because of Sithly intervention/simple war making communication hard).

Eldritch Fox is fucking excellent by the way. There's a set of fics called Corrie Red that I just love. Fox accepts power to help the Guard. It turns out excellently. (For the Guard!) Eldritch guard is wonderfully delicious, and seems to have a subset of fans within the fandom. There's a few really damn good fics of the sort out there.

Palp's activates Fox's chip and uses him to conduct assassinations - Bonus points if Fox starts to become aware of this. bonus bonus points if it causes the chip to degrade, and there's angst over realising what he's done etc. Yes pls!

Fox struggles to trust Nat-borns due to everything that's happened with the Senate. I struggle to ship Fox with Quin or Riyo because of this. Strangely I find Riyo easier than Quin? I think because Quin is a Jedi, and I can imagine Fox feeling very betrayed by them, or separated from them in a way he doesn't perhaps with a nat-born who has worked from the beginning to help him. She's depicted as quite young at the beginning of Clone Wars, so I more imagine them perhaps getting together in the Bad Batch era. I am getting more fond of Foxiyo these days I'm finding! But, realistically, my headcanon is that Fox can't relax completely with Nat-borns, always feels like there's another foot to fall. Personally, as a clone-shipper, I prefer Fox/Thorn, Fox/Cody or Fox/Thorn/Stone/Thire. That last one makes me so freaking happy! I love the idea of them all just piling in together lol!

The command batch consists of Fox, Cody, Wolffe, Bly and Ponds. This is fairly typical of the clone fandom, but I thought it worth saying! I see Fox and Wolffe in particular as very close, seeing each other very much as siblings/twins. There's another excellent fic where Wolffe realises not all is right with the Guard and goes in to investigate, and I LOVE IT.

Fox being Force-sensitive - This is more a trope I enjoy - I don't personally headcanon it, I tend to lean towards any indication of Force-sensitivity being a reason for decommissioning. But do I love fics where he realises this and cleverly avoids being discovered, or the chip prevents Force sensitivity, or he's just quietly better at knowing what people are going to do, at knowing where to dodge to? YES. YES I DO.

Fox is a kind, but firm person. He'll give you his last ration bar, but he'll expect you to do what you're told. He's a Marshal Commander. He's been trained to lead, and he's earned his position. He'll never order someone to do something he wouldn't do himself, and he'll muck in with everyone else.

Fox will sacrifice himself before others. Rations are being cut? Fox takes the lowest amount. The Guard are being given more tasks? Fox will take the first shift.

Fox saves Dogma and incorporates him into the Guard - He hides him the same way he does any trooper order to be decommissioned - he swaps their idents numbers and quietly hides them deep within the Guard. Dogma's a Corrie, and with them, he learns how to be comfortable with himself.

A trope I have enjoyed (but only know of one fanfic that does it!) - is where Fox is actually a series of different clones. There's an excellent fic where the first fox disappears, and Thorn and the other Commanders move someone else into the position. I annoyingly can't remember what it's called right now, but the current Fox at the end of the war is something like the 9th of that name? It's very good!

I know there's more, but I brought some whisky back from Scotland and have enjoyed a couple of glasses and am now struggling to remember more! I may well reblog and add some more as I remember lol!

To me, the Corrie Guard as a whole is particularly interesting precisely because we know so little of them, and only see very brief glimpses of them. I think I've fallen, HARD, for fanon Fox. Where he's the leader of an abused and beleagured group, and doing his absolute best to protect them with every ounce of power he has. Where he suffers and struggles and is broken down to his very marrow, but forces himself back up, and fights to the bitter end to protect others. He's an excellent whump target, and also a sexy silver Fox. What fanon has made of him has been beautiful, and I love it.

Always happy to talk about Fox, and what I like of him.

[jacevelaryonswife]

i was thinking how would Jacaerys and aemond be like their s/o having a sweet and addictive taste

ㅤㅤㅤㅤDōna (sweet, pleasant)

“A retribution for your earlier show of affection,” Aemond murmurs as he crawls between your legs, calmly lifting the white night shifts you wore until it pools at your waist. It will be the first time that the one-eyed prince has performed such a feat, but he is no layman, he knows what a man can do between a lady's thighs — much grudgingly, especially when Aegon told him. However, all knowledge has utility.

He holds your hips and kisses your inner thighs very close to where you need it, but not directly there, just to see your restless reaction. Eventually he stops teasing and plants a soft kiss in the center of your intimate area, bringing his lips to your pearl. Your hands cup his stupidly perfect face and guide him where you feel the most effect, then he starts experimentally kissing and licking your flower until you're moaning and the taste of your nectar invades his entire tongue. It's sweet and so addictive and he doesn't want to stop tasting it.

Aemond tightens your hips as he greedily eats your womanhood, licking your entrance and sucking your mound, delighting madly before pulling away to your utter displeasure.

“I hope you're enjoying it as much as I am, my love, because I don't intend to leave until you say so with conviction,” he said, lips wet with your arousal. “You’re completely delicious, fucking delicious. Dōna.” He is relentless in eating you. Fuck, nothing compares to the sweet taste between your legs and he knows right away that he needs to be between your legs every day.

Jace is anxious when he snakes between your legs for the first time. Like Aemond, Prince Jacaerys knows the activities a man can perform with his mouth, but knowing is different from performing, and if there's one thing Jacaerys Velaryon hates, it's being incapable/average at a job. He lifts your white night shift and breathes deeply against your skin, trailing kisses all the way from you belly to your loins. “Let me know if you don't like it, right?” Is all he says before plunging into your flower.

It's sloppy at first. He licks and kisses from the entrance to your pearl, gripping your hips and thighs as he satisfies you intensely. His mouth feels so good against your pearl, he feels so good against you. When you cup the sides of his face and your womanhood moistens, Jace tastes the sweet nectar of you and groans against your mound, pausing to look into your eyes. It's an obscene vision of you and him. His face is wet with your moisture and your face is an aroused mess wanting more. He'll give you more, he'll give you as much as you want because he needs the addictive taste in his mouth.

He eats you like a starving man and makes a mess between your thighs when he realizes that's what you want. “My love, you taste so good,” he says breathlessly, hardening at your moans and your sensitive body to him. “Dōna.” It's almost a sin that something can be this good, it just wants to make you relax and come strong as you luxuriate in the wet petals of your flower.