“Oh my god,” you mutter, exasperated and tired. The noises seeping through the wall between your room and Jiaoqiu’s just won’t stop! You drag your gaze over to the alarm clock resting on the nightstand, struggling to make out the blocky, red numbers against the darkness of a moonless night.
12:47 AM.
You groan, flipping over and shoving your face into one of the pillows. The sheets around you are tangled, half of the pillows are on the floor surrounding the bed, and you’re sprawled across the bed, but you just. Can’t. Sleep. You roll back over, wrapping the pillow around your head in a futile attempt to block out the sounds coming from Jiaoqiu’s room. If he wanted to mess around, you fume in your head, he should’ve booked a room far away from me!
For the next ten minutes, you try and fail to fall asleep. Finally, you roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling defeatedly. You lift a hand, dragging it down your face as you let out a long-suffering sigh, before forcing yourself to get up. You sit there, cross-legged, listening to the noises that have been keeping you up. It’s a long minute before you throw the sheets off, placing your feet slowly into the slippers next to the bed.
You stifle a yawn, standing and trudging over to your door. You push it open, taking a second to let your eyes adjust to the light of the hallway before stepping out fully. You drag your feet, making your way over to Jiaoqiu’s door, and lift your hand to knock. But at barely a tap of your knuckles, the door creaks open.
Confused, you flatten your hand against the door, pushing it open enough to peek your head in. Nothing is out of place, almost like there’s no one in the room. The only indication that Jiaoqiu is even in the room are the noises getting louder and the bag illuminated by the sliver of light that you’ve let in. It’s been tossed haphazardly in a corner of the room— rather unlike the ever-organized foxian. You step into the room before quietly shutting the door behind you.
Thrown into pitch-black darkness, you fumble blindly for the bolt. Your fingers slip over the cool metal twice before you get a decent grip on it and slide it into place with a snick. You turn your focus to where the noises are coming from. You step forward, aimlessly spreading your arms as if the motion would help you see your surroundings.
All you can do is feel, and hear. You feel the floor change underfoot— first the soft carpet of the hotel room, then something like silk that has you stumbling. Slowly, you lean down, sweeping your fingers over the floor and catching the fabric in your hand. Lifting it back up and tracing over its edges, you figure out that it’s… Jiaoqiu’s shirt. The high-collared, ribbon-and-gold embellished shirt that he wore day in and day out.
You feel your cheeks warm as you realize exactly what’s going on. You’re in Jiaoqiu’s hotel room. In the middle of the night, lights off, blindly making your way across the room to him. Jiaoqiu. Who’s, apparently, shirtless, and making noises that you’ve never heard before but leave the tips of your ears flaming.
As you continue, gingerly, across the room towards the source of the noise— towards Jiaoqiu, you find your earlier exasperation melting away into, first, concern. You stop when you feel the edge of his bed press against your thighs, taking a tiny step back. “...Jiaoqiu?” you murmur hesitantly. It feels like an invasion to speak, even though you’ve already entered his room without asking.
Your only answer is a long, drawn-out whine. You hear the rustling of fabric against skin, and then you’re being pulled down. The high-pitched noise that escapes your lips is muffled by the warm blankets you faceplant into. You lift your head, about to ask him what the hell he’s doing, when his hands smooth over your body, down, down, down to your thighs.
He curls his fingers into the plush of your thighs, and you bite back a gasp, wrapping your hands around his wrists. “Jiaoqiu, what are you doing?” you demand, trying to push him off. He doesn’t respond, instead whining out something that sounds like your name. His grip on your thighs tightens, then relaxes, like it’s taking everything in him to hold back. Your eyes are beginning to adjust to the lack of light, and you can make out the way his hips buck up into the empty air.
You think you’re beginning to figure it out, but you barely get the time to gasp out a quiet, “What the fu—” before Jiaoqiu’s picking you up like you weigh nothing. You bounce slightly as your back hits the mattress, and then Jiaoqiu lays himself over you, pressing his face into the crook of your neck as he lets out another soft, pathetic whimper. “J-Jiaoqiu?!” you exclaim, though you lift a shaky hand to his hair. His breaths are ragged as he presses himself closer to you, one arm around your waist. His grip on you is so tight, it’s almost painful. His skin is like fire, hot and too much against yours.
Jiaoqiu presses his lips into your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses over every inch of skin he can reach. “[n-name]... {n-name],” he whimpers, and when you look over at him, his eyes are open, moving like he’s trying to figure out where you are. “Shhh, shhh, I’m here,” you soothe him, running your fingers through his hair. He gasps out your name again when your fingers accidentally catch on a tangle, and his eyes roll back in his head. His tail flicks wildly behind him.
“A-are you okay…?” you ask, wincing. Clearly not, you answer yourself, but the question hangs in the air anyway. Jiaoqiu shakes his head, whimpering, “N-need you, p-please,” as he grinds down against your thigh. The action is a sharp contrast to the gentle way your hands run through his hair. You let out a shaky breath, your ears and cheeks on fire. But you oblige him anyway, letting your fingers slide higher. Gingerly, you pet his ears.
Jiaoqiu’s response is instant. The foxian lets out a choked moan, pressing his head up into your touch. “[name], ah, fuck,” he whines, turning to face you. His eyes don’t focus— of course they don’t, you chastise yourself— but you can see the pink dusted across his cheeks, the way his spit-slicked lips are parted, his desperate breaths… “Heat?” you murmur, continuing to pet his ears.
“Hah— m-more, mowwre please, [n-name] t-touch meee—” Jiaoqiu pleads with you, rolling his hips pathetically against your thigh, burying his face back into the crook of your neck. He bites and sucks, using you like a chew toy as he desperately ruts against you, tail curling around your calf. “Fuck me, fuck meeew—” you lift his head up and press your hand against his mouth to cut off that obscene begging.
Jiaoqiu’s eyes dart around, as if looking for you. “Okay,” you answer him, your other hand applying a little more pressure to his ears. You watch as he goes cross-eyed, moaning so loudly that you can hear it despite your hand covering his mouth. His tongue flicks out, and he licks your palms, pressing his tongue flat and dragging it slowly over your skin. A shiver races down your spine, and you pull your hand away, wiping it against the sheets before snaking it down to his tail.
He’d always waved off your attempts to touch his tail, swatting your wandering hands away and, at times, threatening to add more chilies to your food if you tried again. The memory has your lips curving slightly as you finally brush the soft fur of his tail. Jiaoqiu shudders violently, his eyes falling shut as nearly incoherent moans of your name pour from his lips. “[name], [name], [n-name] oh fuuu— nghhh! Wan’ more, wan’ more, please mowwreeee,” he whimpers, rolling his hips against your thigh again. Tears are beginning to build in his eyes, and you kiss them away softly.
You slowly brush your hand along his tail, petting his ears softly. He’s reduced to babbling your name, interspersed with “please”s and slurred swearing, as you continue your ministrations. Out of curiosity, you trail your hand down to the base of his tail, gently curling your fingers around it. He lets out a short gasp, more of those delicious noises falling from his lips. You purse your lips, hoping there’s no one in the next room, before pulling on his tail.
Jiaoqiu shatters. “[name] [name] [name] oh fuck s’good mnnnghhhyyaahhh!” he half-moans, half-screams, bucking his hips against your thigh. His head falls forward, lips parted as he pants heavily, pathetic little whines escaping him every so often. A shiver wracks him as you pull at his tail again, and he presses his head further into your neck. You lift your other hand back to his head, petting his ears as you continue playing with his tail. You savor each and every moan, whimper, and plea that leaves his lips, the sounds like music to your ears as Jiaoqiu writhes under such simple touch.
You lift his head, pressing your lips to his in a soft, gentle kiss that’s nothing like the way you’re pleasuring him. You continue playing with his tail, growing bolder as he responds to your touch as if it’s the first time anyone has ever done this to him. Soon, you’re pulling on his tail harshly, and he’s left a wrecked mess, fucked absolutely dumb. He’s so far gone that all he can say is your name, over and over, like a prayer. “[name], oh– fuck!” Jiaoqiu’s voice becomes high-pitched, his moans tapering off into long, drawn-out whines.
A mischievous smile curves your lips as you scratch your nails over his ears, pulling on his tail at the same time. His head snaps back, and he ruts against you pathetically as he whimpers, “[name] oh fuck, love you love you love you, m’cumming, fuck please more—”
You oblige him, not quite registering what he’s saying until you feel the damp fabric of his pants against your thighs. “Shh, shh,” you soothe him, pressing gentle kisses all over his face as you slow your hands against his ears and tail. “Love you too. It’s okay, I gotcha.” His eyes dart around again as if searching for you. You cup his cheek, turning him to look at you. “I’m right here,” you murmur.
“[name]?” he asks quietly, bringing a shaky hand up to your shoulder. “Yeah, ‘s me,” you answer instantly. “G-good,” he murmurs, before flipping you both. He cages you in, one hand on either side of your head as his tail swishes erratically behind him. “L-let’s go again.” It’s not an offer. It’s an order.
I am neck (haha) deep into this manga/anime. Hikaru Ga Shinda Natsu (The Summer Hikaru Died) is such a poignant exploration of what makes humanity lovely and terrible by juxtaposing an actual eldritch horror next to the everyday horrors of human hate.
Please check it out! I haven't loved a story this much in a long time <3
Copyright class actions could financially ruin AI industry, trade groups say.
AI industry groups are urging an appeals court to block what they say is the largest copyright class action ever certified. They’ve warned that a single lawsuit raised by three authors over Anthropic’s AI training now threatens to “financially ruin” the entire AI industry if up to 7 million claimants end up joining the litigation and forcing a settlement.
today I used the phrase "breasting boobily" in casual real life conversation and everyone was shocked asking how I came up with that and I had to explain it. ive been at the devil's sacrament so long that I forgot he wasn't god
the idea that restrooms, locker rooms, etc need to be single-sex spaces in order for women to be safe is patriarchy's way of signalling to men & boys that society doesn't expect them to behave themselves around women. it is directly antifeminist. it would be antifeminist even if trans people did not exist. a feminist society would demand that women should be safe in all spaces even when there are men there.
btw this is maybe the single most key distinguishing feature of the terfy strains of radical feminism, the seed all the rest of it springs out of: they have absolutely no faith in the ability of feminism to actually destroy patriarchy. they do not think feminism can truly build a better world. they cannot really even imagine that possibility. they think patriarchy is an inevitable natural consequence of unchangeable biological facts, and therefore the goal of feminism can only be to mitigate the worst effects of patriarchy, not to get rid of it.
they can imagine a society where women get some designated safe spaces without men around. they cannot imagine a society where the presence of men is not inherently a danger to women.
The problem with playing smash or pass is that there's a lot of characters which I'm not sexually attracted to but I would fuck in a heartbeat out of sheer curiosity and ego, like I don't find Mickey Mouse attractive at all but if he approached me at a bar and went "Hey sexy, want me to show you my mouseketool?" I would say yes because then I get to tell my friends I fucked Mickey Mouse
Smash Or Pass should never be about attraction, that's what Hear Me Out is for. A Smash on Mickey Mouse is understandable, even respectable. A Hear Me Out on Mickey Mouse however, that requires a lab dissection
info: prince!kaiser x f!reader, enemies to lovers, fantasy au, arranged marriage, eventual smut. afab reader w she/her pronouns. reader has an established backstory and is not weak, reader’s appearance is nondescript. reader calls him “mihya” as they get closer. oliver and karasu are bffs in this lol. maybe some angst if you squint. happy ending!! plot is balanced with comedic moments.
synopsis: You will be killed by the one you love most. That line from his prophecy has haunted Kaiser his whole life. Against it all, you stand before him. Will you be the one to rewrite fate itself?
word count: 14k (please don’t let this scare you, i promise my writing is efficient)
a/n: this might be my magnum opus, i promise i poured my best dialogue and writing into this and it shows. if you consider reading like so seriously i will love you forever. also the smut is huge just like his cock <3 or my heart
Kaiser has been forsaken thrice fold. First, by his parents. His mother is said to be a beautiful woman that captured the hearts of all. His father could not bear her ultimate betrayal: leaving, causing him to wither away to nothing.
Kaiser guesses that this aspect of her runs in his blood after all.
The second and third time he is forsaken happen at once.
On the night that Kaiser is, by royal decree, anointed successor to the throne, he does as tradition dictates. He approaches the golden temple at the top of a mountain and mirrors the prophet within, sitting cross-legged in front of them.
The prophet gazes into the distance. And then, like a man possessed, they speak.
Lone Emperor who covets the throne,
You will be killed by the one you love most.
Kaiser swears he feels even his heart stop at that. Cold rushes through him, the chill of it colder than anything he had felt at the front lines of war.
Forsaken by all the Gods —
The prophet stops, staring into the distance with a frown.
The silence is deafening. Noa, despite tradition, interrupts the ceremony and approaches the prophet, clicking his fingers in front of their face.
“The prophecy?”
The prophet’s eyes widen with fear. “I- I cannot.”
“What, are you afraid?” Kaiser scoffs. “The prophecy is bad as it is, it can’t get much worse than that.”
“No, I mean I cannot. The — the Fates! They’ve stopped speaking to me!”
“Excuse me?” Kaiser’s scowl is evident, and Noa swears that in any other situation, Kaiser would’ve moved for his sword and set his blade ablaze.
It speaks volumes that all he does is stare right at the prophet, fear barely contained in his eyes.
The prophet grips at Noa’s hand, forcing his gaze. “My lord, please believe me. This — in the history... it has never happened before. I swear it.”
Noa whistles, and the guards outside come rushing in. “Seize them,” he commands, and they stare at each other for a moment.
To seize and capture that which is considered holy? Is that not blasphemy?
Noa cares little, almost removing his sword from his sheath to do it himself. “What are you all waiting for?”
“My lord! I swear to you!” The prophet grapples towards Noa in spite of their hands being held behind their back, the guards barely catching them from falling to their knees. “The fact that I would admit this at all shows my loyalty to you!” The prophet gasps, breath coming fast.” I could have pretended, could have given a false prophecy. I did not. That’s the choice I made. That is all the proof you need.”
It’s convincing enough that Noa hesitates, taking a deep breath in. But he sees in the corner of his eye Kaiser’s state, sitting in the kind of stillness that you see before a battle, bent over at the bottom of the altar.
At that sight, Noa makes a single motion with his hand for the prophet to be taken away.
The room clears.
“Kaiser, I —”
Whatever comforting remark Noa might have made dies in his throat, because Kaiser laughs, a bitter and broken sound, that he would in the future rarely have his walls down to ever reveal again. He hides his eyes behind his hand and he laughs.
“Of course, my prophecy would come to something like this.” He drags his hand down across his face. “Forsaken by all the Gods.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Noa says it with conviction, and it’s enough for Kaiser to face him.
“Master?”
“You will still be the successor to the throne. As is your destiny.”
“My destiny?” Kaiser jabs a thumb to the now-empty seating. “We just heard my destiny.”
“What the gods have declared has nothing to do with me. I declare you the next to rule. That is all.”
Noa presses a hand to the crown of Kaiser’s head. “No one will know what transpired here. A tragic prophecy is a given. It is meant to be a trial of sorts, after all. Mine, too, was unpleasant. Though not nearly as dire.”
“What was yours?”
Noa breathes in deeply. “A twisted rivalry with a twisted man. One that was to be all-consuming to me.”
Kaiser scoffs. “A rivalry. Just train and win.”
Noa lets the comment pass, staring out of the temple and past the mountains. “The rivalry came and went. At the time, I felt it was the worst. I could not eat, sleep, or breathe without the thought of what he would do next on my mind. But I was lucky, that it passed.”
He motions for Kaiser to take his arm, bringing him back up to standing. “Yours will pass too, I’m sure of it.”
Kaiser waves his hand, gesturing at Noa to let go of him. It’s easy to say, easy to have faith when it is not your life that balances on the precipice.
Forsaken thrice: once, by his parents. Another, by the Gods. And third, by his own future lover. Kaiser curses the Gods and the Weaver for such a fate, for something possibly worse than death is looming over him.
You will be killed by the one you love most. That line has haunted his very being to this day.
~
The people do not know what causes their successor to turn so cold, as biting and harsh as winter itself. His quicksilver smile rattles bones, his sword is cutting like blood in snow.
The prophecy is on a need-to-know basis, and Kaiser has never been crueler. He trains, harder than ever. Enough that when an unmovable sword is found at the rocks of the ocean, he trains until he is able to pull it from the bank, wield it with one hand. Rumor has said it might take three men to carry, or that the night sky that shimmers across it is strong enough to kill even a god. His sole retrieval of it is proof to the people of his strength and stature, but compassion and love are rarely a topic of conversation with his name.
He focuses on his work. He does not take lovers. He barely sees others as friends. And he most certainly does not take a bride.
~
You appear before the throne and you do not bow. The scowl on Kaiser’s face at this says enough.
“You dare-”
“You have the sword.” You ignore Kaiser entirely, setting your sights completely on Noa.
The silence that follows is as large and wide as the ocean, but your gaze is sharp and keen, never faltering once until Noa speaks.
“Water sorceress,” Noa addresses you coldly, “or that’s what you told our people.”
“Yes.”
“You are not the only sorceress of water. Yet your power is second to none.” Noa stands, stepping down the stairs with heavy, thumping footfalls until he’s standing right in front of you. “They call you the water’s mistress, in the neighboring lands.”
“They do.”
He begins to circle you, like a hunter might before striking a deer. Standing next to you, his deep voice clear right next to your ear, he eyes you curiously. “They’re all wrong, aren’t they?”
You don’t answer. Noa takes that as answer enough.
“A power like that. Do you think me stupid?” He observes you, checks you visually for weapons, watches your hands to ensure you don’t call magic forth.
“Demigod.” He about spits the word from behind you, and yet all you do is tilt your head to catch him in your eye’s view.
“You are as well-informed as they say.”
“I am as logical as they come.”
“We are the same in that regard, then. So let’s get straight to the point.”
Noa returns back to the throne, seemingly satisfied with his observing, gesturing at you to continue.
“You have something belonging to me. A sword, heavier than most. Ancient, yet sharp. It is said to look like it contains a night sky.”
“The blade you’re speaking of was found by us, it is ours to keep.”
In the short silence that follows, Kaiser swears there must be irritation on your end, but you don’t show it. Instead, you take a deep breath in.
“The blade was thrown out of the heavens and spat out into this realm during a war between Gods.”
“Is that so? And how can you prove it’s yours?”
“I can wield it, unlike your people, who do not have the means to wield a sword as such.” You state simply.
Like rose grown blue, the impossible becomes possible. You can feel the divinity and the power that comes off the sword in waves the minute it’s unsheathed, your eyes widening. The ring of it is as familiar to you as your own skin, how could you not have felt its presence sooner? But Kaiser is fast, much faster than you expected, faster than he should be with a sword of that weight, that magnitude. Before you can turn your head, cold silver kisses your neck.
“This blade, sorceress?” He comes around from behind you, stalks around you just like his Master had, sword pointed like it may just draw blood from you at any moment. When you finally see his face, his sneer is wicked.
He takes pride in your wide-eyed gaze, your sharpened attention, but the lack of fear on your part grates at him. God-killing, they had called the blade. Yet you don’t shy away at all.
“Say we return the sword to its rightful owner,” Noa calls back your attention, “what would you offer us in return?”
“Offer in return? This sword does not belong to you. It is returned, as it should be.”
“This sword, with its divinity, could harm even a god.” Kaiser presses the blade closer to your neck, gleaming metal against your skin. “It protects this nation. What if the gods forsake us? If we return it to you, what would protect us against them then?”
“For what reason would they do such a thing?”
Kaiser barks a laugh. “Of course, there would be no criticisms from one of them. Water sorceress, demigod. Tell us, who are you, truly? What do your people call you, up there? No matter.” He lowers the sword, but leaves it unsheathed, its heavy weight balanced in his palm. A threat that at any moment, he may change his mind. “Those titles mean nothing to me. I have been forsaken, demigod. So know, I trust not even the gods.”
You sigh. Foreseeing a troublesome future has its cons, you suppose. Your queen would smile if you told her such.
“You ask for something with power in equal to or more than the blade. You asked me for my titles. I shall give you both.” The sleeves of your dress shimmer as you move them, and it’s in this moment that Kaiser notices they are not sleeves but water itself, cradled around your wrists like armor. “The Gods had bestowed on me the title Sword Maiden, and I offer myself and my services to you until the end of your line.”
That shocks the room like a bucket of cold water.
You turn to Kaiser, who stands beside the throne. You step forward once, and water rushes underneath that step, descending in waves over the floor as if it goes through it, a magic they have never witnessed prior. “You say the Gods have forsaken you? Let my presence be proof to you that they still watch over you.”
Kaiser scowls, “What sort of cheap trick is this?”
“My domain is truth. I cannot lie.”
“Oh, please.”
Your eyes narrow at him. “Would it help for you to press your sword against my neck once more?”
A goddess who cannot lie. Noa’s faith lies in logic, but he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth. His gaze flits between Kaiser and you before he seems to settle a decision in his mind.
“Until the end of Kaiser’s line.” Noa negotiates.
Kaiser’s gaze snaps to Noa. “You’re taking her up on this?”
You almost frown. “Fine.”
Noa quirks an eyebrow at you. “That simple?”
“Human lives move quickly.”
Kaiser eyes you curiously. “What happens when you lie?”
You blink at him. Once. Twice. Is that… almost a flustered look you have on?
He readjusts his grip on the blade. “Speak, sorceress.”
“Wh-What do you want me to say?!” You grip at your dress nervously, and that has him even more curious.
“I’m waiting here,” he sing-songs playfully.
“Before the lie can leave my voice, my neck swells up like a balloon, and chokes me.”
He smiles wickedly. “Demonstrate.”
Gods, if it wasn’t immoral, you could wring his neck right now.
You think, for even a moment, a simple lie. And in seconds, you’re almost suffocating on nothing, and Kaiser laughs. Laughs. A full laugh, bending at his knees.
“Oh gods, you’re like a pufferfish!”
You let go of the lie, taking heaving breaths. “Just because I have water capabilities does not mean I am a fish.”
In the midst of the conversation, Isagi leans against Noa’s side, a soft conversation full of worry.
“You’ll have to explain her presence to the council,” Isagi tells him, blue eyes wide with hesitation.
“Right, and your suggestion?”
“I have thought about it, considerably. If you say you hired her, with a force as powerful as her, the other nations may think you are to wage war. So… Given the heir’s… reputation,” Isagi’s gaze flits nervously between you and Kaiser. “If he is willing, she may be a good fit.”
Noa sighs. This, this exact theory, has been a conversation with the other members of his team for months. That a wife by his side would make him seem less chilling, make the transition to a new heir easier on the public, prevent outroar. It is one thing to feel that Kaiser keeps a nation safe, and another to love him as a ruler.
It’s an easy decision, but a hard conversation.
“Kaiser.”
He whips around, ceasing his antics quickly. “Master.”
Noa looks like he is about to say something to him, but hesitates, turning to you instead. Isagi nervously steps away from the dais, returning to his position.
“Goddess,” this time, there is no malice behind Noa’s words. “I accept your offer. However, your presence in this nation and in this castle must be explained appropriately. Should I bear you the title of my successor’s betrothed, would that be a title you’re willing to bear?”
Kaiser’s back straightens. “Excuse me?” he utters low.
“You do not have to bear children,” he specifies. “And you do not have to truly be wed.”
A goddess, to be betrothed to a mortal, as princely as he is, is a serious affair. Kaiser slides his gaze to Isagi, with the audacity to even suggest such. And yet, you seem to ponder it like a simple question.
“I see. As long as the sword is in my presence and protection, how you communicate with your nation is none of my concern.”
“So be it, then,” Noa agrees quickly. “I’ll have our people show you to a room.”
You nod, and are whisked away. The throne room, as if knowingly, empties quickly, guards rushing out to leave Kaiser alone with Noa.
“You made this decision for me,” Kaiser spins to face Noa, spits his words through gritted teeth. “I have been clear. I will take no brides.”
“You believe the prophecy made a choice for you.”
“The prophecy bears no mercy. Or do you wish for my death so eagerly? If so, take your sword out and do it your damn self.”
Noa lets him speak, heave his words out until there’s silence once more.
“She cannot lie,” Noa says softly. “She cannot lie to you, Kaiser. And she is a goddess, a divine being.”
“Demigod,” Kaiser corrects.
“She is divine, and she cannot lie. She is correct, to this end – that as long as she is here, the prophecy cannot come to be. For she has not forsaken us.” Forsaken you, goes unspoken. “She could be good for you, if you allowed her to be.”
Kaiser lets out a canned laugh. “Ha. How can the divine ever understand us?”
Noa stands. “You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”
Kaiser taps his hand against his sword hilt. “You really will not move on this?”
Noa shakes his head. “She is too valuable to lose, and you have a reputation for cruelty. The solution is nothing short of perfect.”
The logical comes above his feelings. Kaiser knows this, even if he hates to come face to face with it.
Noa walks out of the throne room, leaving Kaiser to his bitterness.
“Shitty master,” he mumbles under his breath to no one.
~
It’s jarring to all the guards, the way you don’t even stand let alone bow when Noa knocks to enter your room. But Noa cares little for things like that, if you’re truly offering what you’ve said.
“Perhaps I was too hasty, in presenting the solution before giving you the facts.” He hesitates before you in the reflection of your vanity. You don’t respond, barely even look at him as you unclasp your jewelry, laying it on the table.
“He will not love you.” Noa tells you after a breath, his surefire eyes finally meeting yours.
You give him a curious gaze. “That is likely for the best. I would outlive him, after all.”
“It is, truly, on a need-to-know basis. To tell you this-”
“The prophecy, I presume you’re referring to,” you interrupt, turning to face him.
The shock rolls quickly off him. Divinity does have its mysteries, he supposes. “You already know.”
“I asked the water, why he is so quick to believe he is forsaken. They told me that he lives under the burden of a prophetic trial. That is all I know.” You stand, moving to unzip your dress only for Noa to hastily pull a partition screen across the room and turn around.
“The water, it speaks to you?”
“It does. Though it’s worth noting that it does not make me all-seeing.” Your voice carries over the partition with the ruffle of clothing. “The queen of the Gods, who sees all fates – she is the only one who is truly all-seeing.”
You come out in a nightgown, folding the partition back. He chucks you a robe that you catch easily.
“You should learn the ways of this world if you want to pass as a simple water sorceress, especially before the banquet.”
You frown. “The prince is my betrothed, is he not? Will he not handle it all?”
The idea you present sparks in Noa’s mind. “Brilliant. I’ll have Kaiser and some of the other members of our team show you the ropes. Good night, sorceress.”
You nod to him, and the door clicks shut.
~
“She’s a what?”
Oliver slams his metal cup of beer down, rolling the dice once more.
“A demigod, Oliver. Gods, are you that drunk already? Keep up.” Karasu grabs at the dice as Oliver moves his pieces.
“Can you all shut the fuck up? What happened to need-to-know basis?” Chigiri slinks himself over to their table.
“We’re need-to-know.” Karasu jabs a thumb at himself and Oliver.
“They are, actually, need-to-know.” Isagi puts a gentle hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, settling down next to him. “Because she’s never been human in her life.”
“And now we’re supposed to, what, teach her to be human? Is that a thing we can do?” Chigiri twirls a strand of hair between his fingers, tapping the end against Isagi’s cheek.
Oliver snorts. “What, like a class? Some of us have never sat in one of those, you prissy little shits.”
“She can’t dance, for one.”
“Get Kaiser to teach her. Isn’t he her betrothed?”
That has Oliver almost spitting out his drink, choking on it in coughs. “He's her what?”
Chigiri scowls in his direction. “Dude, are you listening at all?”
“If she’s really his betrothed, none of us should be teaching her.” Oliver warns genuinely. “He’ll cut down everyone here, before he lets us touch her.”
“It’s just an excuse,” Isagi waves his hand, pulling out a leather-bound bind of notes. “They’re not actually together.”
“Oh, you actually got that motion to pass. Shit.” Karasu remarks admirably.
“It must be so tiring,” Bachira sighs happily, falling into place next to Isagi, “to have to actually care about what other people think.”
“The optics, Bachira,” Isagi smacks the end of his pen across Bachira’s nose, and he makes an oh! sound in response.
When Kaiser walks in, the room almost goes silent. He’s used to it, of course. Hearing only the way his footfalls come heavy, boots thumping into the stone floor as a drink is placed right in front of him immediately.
The room slowly fills back with noise as he shoulders off his coat, wrapping it around the chair before sitting. But only his table is still strangely silent.
He flits his gaze over the group. Usually, they’re the first to kill the silence in the room, yelling about the game or a duel. He looks at Isagi, specifically, who seems the most nervous. “Something you wanna say to me?”
“Uh…”
Chigiri sighs, killing the tension. “We’re deciding who gets to teach her how to dance.”
Kaiser quirks an eyebrow. “The demigod?”
Chigiri nods, and Kaiser takes a long gulp of his drink, popping it back down and twirling the top of it with his fingers. “I’ll do it.”
“What?” It’s Isagi’s turn to be shocked, sitting up straight.
Kaiser exhales audibly. “None of you could handle her. She could cut you with water the moment you accidentally step on her.”
It’s not an insult, really. They know this too. That this is Kaiser’s brand of protection, to add insult to injury just to keep others out of harm’s way. But they play his game.
“Think we can’t dodge fast enough? A bit demeaning, don’t you think?” Oliver’s grin is wicked, making straight eye contact with Kaiser, who only draws his eyebrows in at his direction.
“You think that god-killing sword is gonna save you?” Karasu asks.
“I don’t have the sword anymore.”
“What?”
It stings more than it should, he thinks. The sword that he thought chose only him, so quickly released from his grasp. But his strength is his own, he holds fast to that.
Kaiser glances at Karasu. “Those are the terms. She marries me, she gets the sword.”
Ness rests his cheek on his hand. “Man, that sounds like she wins twice.”
Chigiri scoffs at that. “She’s a demigod. Being down here is probably like being in the sewers to her.”
Kaiser stands abruptly, pushing his drink aside, his coat billowing as he wraps it over himself once more.
“Where are you going?” Isagi yells, but he doesn’t answer.
“He gone for real?” Oliver elbows Karasu. “I’m too drunk to tell.”
“Yeah, man. He’s gone”
“Great.” Oliver slaps a piece down. “I’ll bet 50 bucks right now they get married for real.”
“What the fuck?” Chigiri tilts his head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling like it might give him some reprieve.
Karasu laughs, “Okay, I’ll play. I’ll bet 20 that they try to kill each other.”
“You’re just a hater.”
“Nah, I agree,” Reo leans back in the booth. “Kaiser’s a lot of things, but a loving husband is a bit much.”
“She’s a goddess. He’s literally already betrothed to her.” Oliver takes another swig. “Y’all ain’t gonna marry a goddess if she was given to you? Damn, put me in his place, I’ll do it right now.”
~
Kaiser trains, every morning, from sunrise to noon.
You only know because most of the rooms in the palace outlook to a self-contained field. You see him, often, because of this, even if he doesn’t speak to you. As you walk down the corridor, in your classes with Isagi about the current climate of the nations.
“It is useless for me to learn this,” you tell him. “In a few short millennia, the border of the nations will undoubtedly change. And we will have to relearn it all again. What is the use? Why war at all over something so insignificant? Just have a conversation about it.”
Isagi makes a pointed, bored expression at you for this, and then pretends like you didn’t say anything at all.
At the end of class today, you press your elbows to the open windowsill.
Kaiser is there, sparring with Ness. Ness is quick, agile, fleet-footed and runs circles around Kaiser so much so that it almost makes it difficult to keep up.
Kaiser approaches him at bone-breaking momentum, launches strike after hardened strike. He’s shirtless, bandages wrapped around the bottom of his torso, and his body is streaked with sweat. He’s strong, clearly. Broad shoulders clear now from when they were hidden under layers of clothing the first time you met him, the muscles in his arms flexing and relaxing with each step of the friendly duel, hair dipped in saltwater blue.
You know what he looks like, now. You get a sense why Fate brings you here.
He looks like a hero.
The kind that Gods covet, watch from their merry clouds. It’s no wonder that he’s burdened by a prophetic trial, with a face as cutting as his sword, his hair framing his face and flowing.
He takes one look to the side of him and his eyes find yours immediately. It must be some sort of fighter’s sense, you think. For him to have done it so easily.
You give him the space you think he might be asking for. You turn away.
~
He approaches you one night, just before sunset. Karasu had just finished an etiquette lesson with you, setting away forks and knives. Whatever he sees on Kaiser’s face makes him move quicker. He nods once to Kaiser, and then hastily leaves.
“You’ve been making yourself quite at home here, demigod.” Kaiser traces the lace outline of the tablemat, every ridge under his calloused finger.
“I vowed myself to your kingdom to the end of your life. I’m simply doing what is asked of me.”
“And you’re all ready for the banquet, I’m guessing?” The sentence is almost mocking as he approaches you.
“It’s just a ball, is it not? I’ve been told I’m just to stand there and make pleasantries.”
Kaiser chuckles, more bared teeth than sweet. “It is, arguably, the worst part of being so-called royalty.”
“You’re taking this much better than I thought you would.”
"To say no to a goddess' proposal would be the greatest blasphemy, no?"
"From what I've seen, you have not minded sacrilege much at all."
“Marriage means little to me. Disillusioned, perhaps, with the prophecy.” He waves his hand like he speaks of something meaningless. But you see it clearly. Before he had even allowed himself the thought of love, it was taken from him. “Your power is great, your presence ensures the continuation of myself as an heir and successor. Even I can reason with that.”
He's right in front of you now, so close you can feel his body warmth.
“Does it bother me?” He shrugs. “Sure. As far as I’m aware, you are no wife of mine. But a protector of this nation? For that, you are an indispensable ally.”
He looks out the window, towards a coming sunset. Something indescribable on his face, like grief and guilt all in one. He takes a deep breath in and out, inhaling the peace and exhaling the heaviness of his heart, before facing you again. “A war is coming. No one believes me, but I can feel it, as steady as a river’s current. Until then, I’ll make my peace with you.”
You nod. “So be it, your highness.”
That has him stepping back, more incredulous than you’ve ever seen him, body tensed and frowning. Maybe he should’ve expected it, given the way he’s just dismissed you. “Your highness? You hadn’t questioned my lineage before, but now you dare to do so?”
You stare at him blankly. “You are a prince, are you not? Isagi says that’s what princes are called.”
One side of his mouth upturns in relief, and he bursts out a bright laugh. “Is that what they teach you in those lessons Isagi gives? Oh,” a hand runs through the front of his hair, “I thought my own wife-to-be would dare insult me.”
You scoff. “I have no need for that.”
“The title ‘your highness’ doesn’t apply to this nation because strength is valued most. I am heir to the throne not because of the blood running through my veins, but because Noa deemed I the strongest — not just in body but in mind, not just in physical strength but in adaptability.” He says it proudly, like fact, like a knowing so deep within him that it turns pride into faith. “A title like that is something used by the Itoshi brothers, let’s say,” he comments airily. “Their throne is carried by a bloodline.”
He turns on his heel, only looking back when he realizes you don’t follow.
“You don’t know how to dance yet, do you?”
You lean your hip against the table. “I can dance.”
“Come, then. If you’re to be my wife, it’ll be an embarrassment if you don’t at least act like it.”
You follow him to a ballroom – a stunning, wide area with a looping chandelier, curtains that weigh down in arches over each floor-to-ceiling window.
He swoops you from your distraction with a hand around your waist, and the physical contact shocks you so greatly that orbs of water swirl in your hands.
Kaiser only raises an eyebrow at you. “This is a dance, not a duel. Or do the gods do it differently?”
For a man who was so passive to you, he holds you so close that your chest to chest, you can feel each breath he takes against you. When he steps with you, his movements are slow and deliberate, never inefficient. He moves not with fluidity, but with each sure step. Pulls you forward, then pushes you back. Circles you, spins you around.
It’s exactly like when you see him train. Like steps to a kata.
“I thought you said this was not a duel.”
“These are steps to a classic waltz, demigod.”
“You have no fluidity to you.”
Kaiser scoffs. “Should I apologize? With the prophetic curse hanging above me, I haven’t taken a dancing class.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“Hm?”
“The prophecy. It doesn’t have to be a curse.”
He stops, separating himself from you, scowling.
“This session is over.”
“Kaiser-,”
“What?” He snaps. “You, of divine nature. You want to tell me how to view my prophecy?”
“I do not say this out of pity, or out of some sort of higher knowing.” You say it with conviction. “As heir to the throne, a throne that is currently being held by Fate itself, maybe I shouldn’t be saying this at all.”
“And yet?”
“To know your fate is to be able to defy it.” And maybe it’s just an effect of your divinity, but it rings like a bell, like truth itself. “Your prophecy may have made a wound, but you are the one who cuts it open. You are a man who wields a sword that cannot, should not be able to be wielded by anyone but the divine. Does that not say something? About you, about your capabilities?”
“And yet you took it from me.”
The silence that follows is thick with indecision. Kaiser lets the uncomfortableness sit, rejects every heartwarmed statement you make with a roll of his shoulders, like water off a smoothened rock, replaced with only his anger. “I trained for weeks before I could lift that sword out of the riverbank. Yet it is yours, now, simply because you are supposedly its rightful owner.”
Conflict runs through your face so clearly, he wonders that even if you could lie, whether it would mean anything at all. He watches as your hand reaches into a conjured puddle of water that floats in the air, and out comes the divine sword.
You hold it in your hand with an ease that he has spent months capturing. It strikes envy in him like a branded sear.
“My role here is technically to secure the sword. I have no need to wield it.” You hold it at the bottom of its handle, directing the top of it to him. “If you swear you won’t lose her, I can set a compromise of sorts.”
“You think I’d agree to a compromise?”
You open up your palm, and a bracelet appears. “This will help you keep the sword in a pocket dimension we can both access. If you’re willing to place it there to secure it when you’re not using it, I’ll return her to you until the end of your line.”
Huh. A safe-keeping place is a more neutral proposition than he had thought you’d come up with. To have her back kills the fight in him, and he accepts begrudgingly, testing the magic in his hands until it becomes natural.
“For the record, Kaiser, I have not always been worthy of it.”
Something about the way his name slips off your lips has him keening. “Worthy?”
“I stayed true to my course. I was given a title. And then I could wield the sword, presented to me by my queen.”
“Your queen. Heir to the throne.” He laughs bitterly, knowingly. “You’re a princess.”
“Despite your mocking tone, I’ll have you know that title of mine is of the highest regard. I don’t take it nearly as lightly as you do with yours.”
“That’s why you didn’t bow or kneel. You take what’s meant to be yours without a second thought. Not because you’re unknowing, or because of some godly pride, but because you have never been lesser.” He flicks a finger between your eyebrows. “What a spoiled thing you are. Can you even fight?”
Something in Kaiser takes pride in the way you frown more deeply, it’s almost like a pout. It’s almost…
“Well, I definitely wasn’t sitting idly in the war between Gods.”
“I’ve never seen you train.”
“That’s because you’re always on the training grounds.”
“Oh? You won’t show me?”
“I’m giving you space. I’m no wife of yours, no?” There’s a sting to it when you say it, having his words thrown back at him.
“Duel with me. Tomorrow.” He spins you, lets you out of his hold before bringing you back in.
~
He begins to meet you, day after day. A duel first, and then a dance. The dichotomy would be distasteful to any other, but you of divine blood do not even flinch at his request.
He may be displeased to have you, but his mouth cracked as wide and wicked as a cat’s at the prospect of a fight.
“Go on, then.” He takes a blunt, wooden sword, throwing it in your direction. “Or do you only fight with magic?” He teases.
You swing the sword, rotating your wrist with ease. “Do you forget yourself, prince? I am half divine, you will surely lose. Are you sure you want to go through with this anyways?”
His mouth widens, more teeth than smile. “Bring it.”
You know, the moment you defend against his first strike, that a singular hit from him on the battlefield must be deadly. He is surefooted, his whole weight bears down in every move. He doesn’t let you breathe once, much faster than you would’ve thought with someone of his size and height.
Kaiser was almost right about one thing, that the divine adds to your magic more than your physical strength. With enough training, in just simple hand-to-hand combat… He might have the potential to beat you.
But not today. Today, you have him pinned to the ground, makeshift blade to his throat.
“You’re awfully close,” he gasps out slyly. And it’s in this moment that you notice, too, how right he is about that, how you can feel his heartbeat underneath yours, his chest against yours with each exhale.
“What?” He grins wide, “afraid you’ll miss?”
By all the Gods, you want to knock the living daylights out of him. He notices your anger in that hesitation, your conflict between doing what is right and what you want, and flips you over, swapping your positions until his hips are pressed against yours.
Something about your shell-shocked face makes him stir.
“First rule of fighting, sweetheart,” he runs a hand through his hair before planting it next to your head, leaning into you close. “Never get distracted by your opponent.”
He’s closer than he was before, admiring the way you look under him, your hair splayed along the ground and the sweet fire of irritation in your eyes. Is the heaving of your chest from your anger towards him, or from something else entirely?
“When Gods fight, there is not nearly as much prattling.” You grit at him. He smells like the grass of the field and the winter air and the heavy musk of sweat, and when you shove him off, it feels like your hand meets the hard rock of an unruly ocean.
~
It is during dances that he speaks to you. Not at first, but slowly, like a river that streams into the ocean. You tell him tales about the Gods, about your friends, about wars and petty arguments. And he starts to answer you, more often than not, with every question you might have.
“I have wondered about something.”
“Hm?”
“The sheathing. It prevents even me from detecting the sword’s divinity.”
“Huh, so Nagi really wasn’t lying.”
“Nagi, who is always with Reo?”
Kaiser nods. “They say Nagi was once sought upon by a god for his talents, a god who was constantly sending him dreams. But he grew tired of it, so he found a material that prevents even the gods from finding him so he can sleep in peace.”
The conversation often leads to the prophecy, a bitterness like licorice on his tongue. Even if he skates around the topic, you don’t let him hide from it, cutting straight to the heart of the truth.
“You can live in the cold bitterness you’ve put yourself in, Kaiser,” you tell him, one of these nights. “Or you can live, and maybe even possibly die, warmed by a life you truly felt was worth living. Your own choices. Not because of a prophecy, or because of Noa, or even in spite of me.”
But despite it, he doesn’t move away. Because it is the only time he has you to himself. He sees you, always, with Isagi and Oliver and Karasu and Chigiri. How you have molded into their lives with simplicity, sit with them at meals and have easy conversation despite knowing nothing, in a way that he has never once allowed himself to enjoy. What does it say about Kaiser? That he can't stand your presence but he can't stand your absence even more? That he would rather have a biting argument with you than leave you to your own devices?
It's during duel and dance that he comes as close as he can to touching you. If he did anymore, it would become something he doesn't have the heart to name without unease settling in his gut.
~
On the day of the banquet, Chigiri sits you down in your vanity, braiding your hair back in his hands.
“The queen of the Gods, her lover, a friend of mine… He used to do this for me too.”
Chigiri silently appreciates that you don’t ask him why it is him that helps you with this. That divinity doesn’t hold the same notions this world does.
“He would-,” you laugh softly to yourself. You’re stunning like this, Chigiri can’t help but notice. A goddess, most casual as can be. “He would say that I was useless at it, actually. You two might’ve been good friends.”
“Me? Friends with a god?” Chigiri finishes the braid, tilting your head in his hands to admire the way the braid crowns around each side.
“Of the Fae, actually. A beautiful man he is. You would fit right in.”
That stops Chigiri, has him taking a sharp intake of breath, smiling at you through the vanity’s reflection. “Thank you, princess. Though you would do good to be more careful during this banquet to compliment anyone.”
You smile softly back. “Ah, yes, my betrothed who will not love me might get jealous. Gods are not so different than people, in this regard.”
“Is that so…”
~
It’s when you meet the Itoshi brothers at the banquet that you begin to understand why Isagi gave you all these lessons.
Where Kaiser is muscle and sword first, more fighter than prince, Sae and Rin are the opposite. They have a grace befitting of royalty. Instead of heavy footfalls that you can hear even in the blanket of snow, they are light-footed, conscious of it in the echoed ballroom.
Though you suspect, from the way Sae grips Kaiser’s forearm as they shake hands, from the way Kaiser regards Sae, that he is somehow just as strong of a fighter. That royalty is an illusion Sae and Rin put on, for peace’s sake.
Something indescribable flits over Sae’s face as you curtsy in front of him, but it’s gone in a moment, replaced with his nonchalance.
“The betrothed of the banquet. We are most pleased to make your acquaintance.” Sae bows his head to you, and Rin follows in his stead.
You smile, something beaming and sweet. “The pleasure is all mine.”
“Would you mind, Kaiser?” Sae’s eyes only leave yours for a glance, to check in at Kaiser’s now furrowed look. “I’d like to take your wife-to-be for a dance.”
Kaiser’s back straightens, a hardened gaze with gritted teeth. But he says nothing. You swear Sae almost grins.
“I’ll return her back to you.” He says it like a favor, and Kaiser is only held back by Karasu’s hand on his shoulder.
“It’s just one dance, Kai,” Kaiser looks at Karasu, then to you, and then back to Sae. He barely nods once.
“Are you sure?” You ask him.
He scowls. “What do I have to be worried about?”
Well, it’s not like you want to anger him further. You let Sae take your hand, leading you to the floor.
“I almost didn't think you were who you said you were, when I saw you,” Sae tells you, breaking the quiet of the dance.
You lean back so you can see his whole face, your confusion clear. “Your highness?”
“When I had heard of you, they told me that waves flowed off your dress like water itself holds you sacred. Yet here you are, as regular as can be.”
Sae twirls you away from him, then brings you back into his arms. “They say you shook the earth with a single step. Where is all that power you were said to hold?” He holds you close, watching your every reaction with his crystal gaze. “This place. They’ve placated you, tamed you.”
He brings his mouth to your ear, the body warmth of his entire chest seeping into yours. “If you were mine, I would never force you into a box you didn’t belong. I’m not afraid of you. I’m not afraid of Kaiser, even with his god-killing sword.” He spins you again, capturing your waist. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t be afraid to demonstrate your power to the world.”
“Sae.” He looks at you in a way that feels meaningful. You don’t know the pleasantries of this nation or his in-depth, but you know, somehow, that this feels like this is something you should shield from.
“Oh? No honorifics already? We’re that intimate, are we?”
To fight is one thing, but this is something entirely different. Being able to hurt others with a play instead of a sword, you’re not sure if you can shield others from something like that.
As the song ends, Sae takes your hand, brings it to his mouth to kiss the back of it. “Consider my proposition, princess. Before your marriage solidifies, and becomes something you can’t escape from.”
With his hand on the small of your waist, he brings you back to Kaiser dutifully. Kaiser links his arm with yours immediately, before any of you can spare a goodbye.
“What did he say to you?”
You hum. You get the sense that maybe…
“Nothing of importance,” you tell him instead.
“Hm?” He tilts your chin up to meet you eye to eye. “Is my own betrothed keeping secrets from me?”
“He said I don’t seem all that powerful.”
That makes Kaiser smile, not something sweet but with teeth bared, like a wolf. “He hasn’t seen you in action.” He pulls you in, hand wrapping to the back of your neck, a slow and deep whisper. “Do you want to show them?”
“Weren’t we both told that’s inappropriate? Isagi said the optics could make your allies scared.”
Kaiser rolls his eyes. “Isagi this, optics that. Our country has always been about the brawl and brave. Let the nations fear us, then. I, with my cruelty and a god-killing sword. You, a sorceress second to none. It’s a pretty picture, is it not?”
He straps his sword to his back and brings you to the middle of the room, and as the guests of honor, the crowd gives you both a wide berth. He circles you, just like you practiced. Makes you center stage.
“Go on then, princess.” He lets go of your hand and bows, sweeping his arm out. “Show us who you really are.”
“Kaiser,” you whisper. “We have very clear orders-”
“I make the orders, not follow them. So make your choice, princess. Wasn’t it you who said that it is worth living a life warmed by your own choices? Tell me, then. Do you want to show them? Or do you want to play nice?”
This play, to have ego and pride dive head-first into a situation, is so very human. And yet-
You let water overcast your body from your waist, let it roll off in layers like waves into the floor. Anyone who has had experience with magic can see your ultimate control over it, how the floor isn’t wet at all, how the water was conjured from nothing. Your hair is silken with dampness, framing your face like gloss. Gasps and awes from the audience makes Kaiser grin even wider.
“There we go.” Kaiser reaches behind him to unsheath his blade, and the galaxy within swirls. He spins it in his hand, and it’s almost like he’s never been happier.
In seconds, he strikes at you. Your hands move up instinctively, blocking the blade with a stream of water. The sound it makes, divinity against divinity, is like a low bell. The floor beneath you shakes with the strength of the strike, water dispersing around your feet in cascades to cushion the impact. You hear screams of shock, a glass breaking.
“Kaiser,” you grit, but all he does is widen that wicked, quicksilver grin.
And then he laughs, stepping away and sheathing the blade back. He holds one hand out to you instead.
“Next time, I want a duel in front of everyone. But this time, I guess a dance will suffice.”
You exhale gratefully, taking his hand in yours and retracting your water. “Let us dance, then.”
And with none of a prince’s grace, with movements that feel more fight than dance, he drifts along the floor with you.
~
Isagi collapses into the booth, a palm pressed to his eyebrows. “Our allies thought they were about to fight each other.”
“Can I cash in on my bet now?” Karasu rolls a skewer stick between his fingers. “Because they might’ve almost killed each other.”
“Nah,” Oliver leans back. “I think that’s just foreplay.”
Isagi opens his eyes to find Chigiri and Bachira standing before the booth. Chigiri’s not meeting his eyes, his mouth perching to one side in a way that squishes one of his cheeks.
“What happened?”
“They’re gone.”
“Ha?”
“We had one drink. One.”
Oliver has the audacity to laugh, hand over his mouth. “Don’t worry, Isagi,” he pats him on the back. “I’m sure they’re just fucking around.”
In another corner of the hall, royals speak in low tones.
“We can just take her if you like her,” Shidou tells Sae with the sweetest smile a man like that can muster. “No need to ask poor little Kai-Kai.”
Sae says nothing, eyeing you quietly as you step out of the hall.
~
You are sitting at the edge of the ocean, letting the slate-crested waves wash over you, when he finds you.
“You can dry me in a moment’s notice if I am to sit with you, right?” He says it almost reluctantly, even though he’s here anyways. He’s dropped his off coat somewhere along the way, and there’s something so naked about seeing him in just a shirt. He almost seems softer, without the harsh lines of battle-ready clothing or the fur that drapes around him, relaxed in a way he wasn’t in the banquet hall.
You smile. “I can keep you dry whilst you're sitting.”
He relents, then. Allowing the strangeness of sitting on wet sand without getting wet.
“Was the banquet up to your expectations, then, Kaiser?”
Expectations. He’s had none of a party like this. Being allowed to dream is a privilege, and privileges were not granted to him.
“You are officially my wife-to-be,” he says instead. “Shouldn’t you call me something a little more intimate?”
You gaze out into the horizon for a moment, and something in your eyes unfocuses, like you’ve gone somewhere else and then returned. “Very well. I shall call you Mihya.”
It strikes a chord in him, like a teaspoon hitting a glass. “Mihya? Where did that come from?”
“The water.”
“She speaks to you?”
“She says in another life, you are given a nickname like that.”
“Another life…” He lies down in the sand, watches the streaks of sunset in the blueing sky.
“Ask then, Mihya,” you lean over him slightly, until all he can see is the sky and the way your features soften. “The question we both know is on your mind.”
He almost wants to reach out, hold your cheek in his hand. It’s a foreign feeling to him, so foreign it almost feels like unease – to want to extend a gentleness like that to another person. “Won’t you just tell me?”
You breathe in the sea-salt air, and breathe out a heart-warmed truth. “The prophecy does not hold you captive in another life.”
Kaiser, for once, lets himself dream. Of a different life, where he is unburdened by a prophecy, and burns brightly.
~
“It would seem strange if you weren’t together, with all the other guests in the palace.” That’s what Oliver tells you as he gestures for you to take his arm, leading you to Kaiser’s room.
It’s both plainer and more furnished than you thought, like someone who isn’t him had chosen the furniture and the color of the walls. But the items in the bookshelves seem well-loved, items taken out and put back haphazardly, scrolls and books placed back half-way. The bathroom door opens with a flood of light.
“You’re here.” It’s rare to shock Kaiser in a way that doesn’t make him immediately reach for his sword.
You turn to look at him, taking in his half-dressed state. “Were you expecting some other woman?”
“Oh, so you’re the jealous type?”
He almost wants to laugh at the clear discomfort on your face. Gods don’t tease, he’s guessing?
The bed gives way to you as you take your place. “I hear it’s common for princes to take many lovers.”
The moonlight spills over the bedsheets as the room darkens, and you summon the sword to float right above you, looking into it. He joins you, wanting to see exactly what you’re seeing.
“It’s not a night sky.” Your voice is so soft in the blanket of night between you both.
“Hm?”
“Inside the sword. Your people say it looks like the night sky. It’s not. It’s a galaxy.”
He reaches his hand out, tracing over the glass along the middle of the weapon, a silent remark for you to continue.
“At the beginning of all worlds, the first-ever contract was made between the first-ever forces, and with it, this sword was said to be conjured out of the galaxy. And so, a part of the galaxy at the beginning of all worlds was contained in this sword.”
The stars in the sword move within like they’re responding to your words, borne witness to all the events. But instead of watching them, you turn to him.
“You have held and wielded a primordial piece of this world. It has allowed you to hold it, granted you its blessing.”
Blessed. That is not a phrase Kaiser would have ever used to describe himself. But coming from you, he can almost believe it. Almost hope to have a little more than he’s ever had.
The sword disappears with a movement of his hand, and he rolls to lean over you. Silence drops like a curtain. The only sound he knows is your breath and his.
During a fight, his feelings can almost be mistaken for adrenaline. But even under the shadow of the moon, with the cushioned silence between you both, the way you cut straight to the truth rings like a silver bell.
He can’t hide from you. Or maybe. Maybe he’s tired of hiding at all.
He is a man who has only known war and battle, was born and bred into it. War-forged, is what they call men like him. His hands know weapons, know how to kill.
He does not know if they know how to love. And yet-
He cups your face, and drinks you in.
He kisses you with caution, like you might melt from his grasp if he held too tightly. Presses his lips against yours slowly. He runs his hand gently over your hairline as he parts from you.
Is this okay? He wants to ask. But instead, he says: “Tell me what you want.”
You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips brushing against yours when you answer: “You.”
And then he kisses you like a man starved, never known by this feeling that gets caught up in his throat with every noise of yours he swallows.
“Is this… is this what you want?” You try to ask as you part from him for air, but he presses his mouth to the space behind your ear instead, laying kisses down your neck. “Is this a decision that you are making for yourself, by your own hands? That is entirely for you?”
That makes him stop. But when he looks at you with a surefire gaze…
He knows it, undoubtedly. That this, for once, is his.
“There are no lovers,” he tells you between kisses, to your shoulder, down your collarbone, to your breastbone.
“What?”
“I take no lovers.” He unclasps your bra, lets the material fall from his hands to cup your supple flesh. “I’ve never been princely, after all.”
“You- Kai-”
He runs his thumbs across both your nipples, admires how they perk up at his administrations, flitting his gaze between them and your face as he brings his mouth down over one of them.
He presses kisses down your body, cups your heat in his hand like he’s begging you to respond, like he’s saying let me have this. The inside of your thighs is soft as cream under his calloused hands. His thumb moves along the outside of your underwear, from your slit up to your clit with his fingers pressing tentatively against the fabric until you’re grabbing at his wrist.
“You’re so tense,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Want me to take care of that for you?” He runs the knuckles of his hand over your clothed slit, bumping into your clit with his thumb until your breathing gets heavy, your hands gripping his shoulders.
“Kaiser,” you breathe, and he clicks his tongue.
“That’s not what you call me, baby. Not anymore.”
“Mihya.”
“Mm,” he slides his fingers into your panties from the side, a huff of breath leaves him at the wetness he finds. “Good girls get rewarded, you know?”
Heat coils hot deep in your stomach. He can’t take the restriction, pulling your panties down and revealing your core to the cold air. He lets his slickness pool on his fingers, collects it before bringing it to your clit. It’s like a drug, watching the way your face gives way to pleasure, how your body arches into him.
“Mihya,” you gasp again, like a chant, a prayer. Is this what the gods feel like, to be asked of?
“Let me watch,” he says it like a demand but it aches with desperation, a thing he won’t admit outside these four walls. He presses with more confidence now, slides one finger into you, then two. There’s little resistance with the way he’s riled you up, long fingers pressing into you until he reaches something that has you making a broken moan so pretty he can’t help but tilt into it again.
“I want to see it,” he tells you. This is something he makes happen to you, with his own hands, his own words, his own body that shares its heat with yours. That notion alone runs arousal straight through him. Your panting breath, the way your body shakes with each swipe against your clit.
“I want to see you fall apart in my arms.” He whispers, and you respond in kind. You always do to him, don’t you? He’s been seen too surely by you, now it’s his turn. Your body tenses entirely, tightly, gripping him as he grants you reprieve. A soft whine leaves your mouth along with something like his name, and the rough pad of his thumb circles over your clit until you crash, coming around his fingers.
He swipes a thumb over your cheek, allows himself the gentleness that he’s held back for so long with you.
“One more, okay?”
Your eyes widen. “Mihya,” this time it’s like a warning, but the way you say his name is so breathy it has him pressing a hand over his pants.
“Yeah, say my name just like that.” He shuffles down until his mouth is pressing to your stomach, just above your mound. Then again to the inside of your knee, trailing up until the inside of your thigh, his breath ghosting over the sensitive skin there.
“You’re-, wait, we just- I just”
“Mm, and you’re gonna give me one more.” He kisses your clit first, like a promise, and then he laps at your core generously, from the bottom of your slit all the way to your clit, his flat tongue against the whole of you. Every drop of slick from your previous orgasm is taken in by him with each moan he makes against your core. If he had known this feeling was going to enter his life, that it would’ve felt like this, maybe he would’ve readied himself better for it. Instead, he finds himself starving at the table where it’s served. The taste of you on his tongue wraps him in a heady pleasure, but it’s every sound he takes out of you that has him pressing a little more insistently, tongue laving over you.
“Pl-please,” your words break between gasps, and it has him lapping into your clit with more pressure.
“I can never say no to you, can I?” he mumbles between your legs. And then he’s flipping you over, hoisting you onto your knees and skimming his hands over your rear and thighs before diving in again. Your face is pressed into the pillow, hands grabbing the sheets. Kaiser almost seems dazed as he moans into your cunt, swollen and wet like a siren’s call, hands wrapped so tightly around your plush thighs that it feels like it might bruise.
“Let me taste,” he mutters, mouth still lodged into your cunt, like that isn’t what he’s already doing. “Come on baby, give it to me. Let me taste it on my tongue.”
Your hole clenches and flutters around nothing as another orgasm rocks through you, your breath coming short as you break apart on his tongue with a whine.
He flips you over again, and the look on his face takes your breath away. Your slick shimmers on his mouth as he trails his tongue over his lips, like he’s addicted, like he can’t get enough. He tilts his head with a grin so cocky that if you weren’t so blissed out you might just punch him.
“There something you want, pretty?” He leans over you, hand to the bedpost, and how broad and tall he is becomes that much more obvious. You let yourself look, at the way his tattoo drapes over his arm, run your hands over the muscle of his torso down to his v-line. You hear a sharp intake of breath as your hand moves lower, running under his loose sleep pants to the base of his cock.
He grabs your hand in his, bringing it over your head and circling both your wrists. “Ask.”
“You-,” your eyes narrow and you huff at him, but it only makes him smile. “Won’t you just-”
“Nuh-uh.”
“I could cut you down here.”
He drops his pants, pumping his cock once and then sliding it along your slit. “You could. And then who’ll give you what you want?”
You want to roll your eyes, but then he has one hand tapping against your clit, the other gripping either side of your cheeks.
“You begged so pretty for me earlier when I had my mouth on you,” he rasps. “What happened to that?”
The harsh look you give him under those fluttering lashes of yours makes something stir in his gut, arousal shot through his veins, pupils wide. He plays with you, warm hands against your skin and between your legs, the soft skin of his cock sliding between your thighs until you’re gasping in his hold again, grinning like a battle won.
“Please, Mihya,” you sigh.
“Mhmm. Please what?”
“Please- please fuck me.”
He gets off on it, watching you yield to him, spreading your legs, dripping your hot slick onto his cock. He presses the head against you, petaled folds opening up to receive him as he slides into you slowly. Just the first few inches is so thick inside of you that your hands wrap around the muscles of his arms, nails digging in.
“Shh, baby, you can take it,” he hushes your little whines, tracing your hairline with such gentleness it contradicts the way he pulls out of you just slightly only to push in again.
“You’re- oh,” your body gives into him, even more so when he brings his hand down to tap on your clit, his mouth over your neck, to the side of your mouth, until he’s kissing you and taking in every noise you make. It’s almost a distraction, helps your body to relax so he can press into you deeper. You think you feel every inch as it enters you, all the way until the hilt, until the head is pressing deep inside of you and his hips meet yours.
He lets out a rough, deep moan against the expanse of your neck, breath coming short as your walls tighten around him.
“Fuck, baby. You gotta let me move.” Your arms wrap around him tighter, a whimper falling from your lips as he tilts his hips up to plunge into you again. It’s hard and slow and deep and if it wasn’t for his grip on you, you might’ve hit the headboard. But he’s careful about it – more than you might’ve thought he’d be. Pressing your body into the bed as his hips meet yours again and again.
“It feels so good,” you tell him, and it has him pressing a kiss to your cheek in return. Makes every moan you make that much sweeter, to know it’s out of your pleasure, to know it’s because of him.
“Good girl. Tell me again.”
“Feels- you’re so big, so- please, I need-” Your walls can barely clench down onto him with how he feels inside of you. Chest to chest with him, the contact of skin on skin-
“You drive me insane,” he grumbles it into your skin; a confession, exacerbated with each thrust of his hips as he picks up the speed, until he’s slamming into you with a kind of strength that has you seeing constellations behind your eyes. He wants you- needs you to feel the way he feels. Needs to have you lying in his bed, thinking only of him and how he makes you feel. Heat pools in your core until you’re arching your back, and he knows it now – knows it like the back of his hand.
“Give it to me.” It’s a command, a need, if you listen closely enough. “Come around my cock. Show me.”
“Mihya, it’s so much, it’s so so much.” It’s treacherous, the way it works through your body, being on the brink.
His thumb is slick over your clit, pressing just a little more, until your thighs are tightening under his unrelenting body. “Come for me.”
You chant his name until the words start to become nothing in your mouth, until you’re breathless, until your whole body tenses under him and his hold against you gets that much rougher and your walls clamp down and then your body shakes as you come. You almost scream, only silenced by his lips on yours. He comes quickly after that, his eyes never leaving yours, taking in how you look underneath him as his cock gets more sensitive and paints the inside of your walls. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow until he feels your body start to relax under his.
You can barely process coming down as he’s kissing you again, deeply and with force, like he’s etching the memory of you into his mind and onto your lips.
For once, he lets himself recognize – how tiring the emptiness has been, to be devoid of this feeling and instead be filled with the fear that it’ll be turned against him. For once, he lets himself feel – to have something that is wholly his. to know and be known. To give and know you will receive. Not an offering at an altar but a hand in his, not a prayer but a soft word spoken in return. Kaiser does not want something as untouching as approval or attention from the divine. But he does want your waist in his arms, your forehead against his.
“Just like this,” he whispers it, a kiss placed to your forehead. You don’t know what he means, too tired to ask.
This is exactly what he’s always wanted. Just like this.
~
Not unlike a parent, Noa notices the closeness of your relationship. In touch, in stolen glances, in longing. A private conversation with him over afternoon tea is not unique, but the heaviness that weighs on him is.
“As the goddess who cannot lie, I have to ask you.” The hardened look on his face makes you straighten your back, putting down your teacup. “You know, that I have to ask.”
Silence sits between you both like a shoe about to drop.
Noa yields. “Has he truly been forsaken by all the gods?”
You are strangely silent as you look at him, then away, then back.
“Answer me, demigod.”
“I don’t know.”
“What?”
“I. Don’t. Know. I have told you before, that I am not a seer, or an oracle. Water holds memory. I can see the past, I can even see other lives parallel to ours, but I cannot see the future. This is the limit of my power.”
“You are of divine nature.”
“I had said what I said at our first meeting, and that has not changed. As long as I am here, the Gods have not forsaken him. For I have not forsaken him. Is that not enough? How many Gods would travel to your realm, vow themselves to a human kingdom? Even if it is I alone that stands before you, is that not enough?”
Noa sighs, more exasperated than you’ve ever seen a serious man like him. “He deserves more, that boy. For what he has been put through.”
“All greatness comes with a price. All heroes face tragedy. He, no matter how much you may care for him, is not the exception to that.” You tilt your head, like a cat with curiosity. But unlike that sweetness, your words are cutting. “You made him a ruler. You made him a hero. So, stand by that. Or does it make you uncomfortable? To consider the role you, too, have played in his life?”
Noa, of course, has thought about this too. Had he not chosen Kaiser to rule, would he have had the prophecy weighing on him like a second shadow?
“If the prophecy holds true, you will inevitably leave him.” Noa swallows, hand flat against the table. “He will inevitably be forsaken, even by you.”
“Then why,” you ask, genuinely, “did you ask me to stay?”
~
In the weeks that follow, you learn exactly why. Like Kaiser had predicted, talk of battle comes.
“We suspect a neighboring nation wishes to wage war with us.” Noa looks out to the slate-blue ocean from the window of the war room.
“A man who wants control of this whole world,” Karasu huffs. “There’s never a lack of them, is there?”
“He thinks himself a god. Or that’s what Sae has told us.”
“You’re sure Sae’s information checks out?”
“Shidou and Otoya like to visit neighboring nations for uh… fun, let’s say,” Chigiri rolls his eyes, then plants his face in his hands. “He said something along the lines of “you don’t wanna know how they found out” and “Shidou sleeps with both men and women, so it’s been cross-checked too.””
“And then we asked him about war,” Isagi throws his notes down on the table. “He said, and I quote, ‘I already have more land than I know what to do with. What could another few acres give me? What a hassle.’”
“The enemy are bold to come for us first.” Kaiser frowns considerably. They are possibly the one nation blasphemous enough that would not blink at the thought of fighting a god. “There’s something we’re not seeing.”
Isagi nods in agreement. “We still don’t know the reason they’re coming here first. It could be the sword, or the goddess.” Isagi frowns. “I told you not to make a scene at the banquet.”
Kaiser gives him a curious look with a smile he fails to hide. “The point of a banquet is to wow the people. The people were wowed, were they not?”
“It could be, it could not be,” Noa kills the conflict there. “That information would have been made public regardless of the spectacle. It could even simply be the throne itself they seek. An army like ours could parade into the neighboring nations and lay waste, our people are used to much harsher weathers.”
“Or maybe he means to make a statement,” Karasu shrugs. “If he wants to be a god, maybe he means to punish the disrespect we’ve shown.”
“What do we actually know?” Chigiri taps the map of this nation splayed across the table.
“We know he wants to take control of this world, and we know his plan includes something from us.”
“He knows once he controls the world, he has to take care of it, right?” Oliver rests his jaw in his hand. “As in, it’s not just about buying the house, it’s about cleaning it too. The plan – it has to be bigger than this, no?”
“Won’t happen once we kill him here. So as far as we know, there are three things we have that he could want: the sword, the goddess, the army.” Chigiri holds up his fingers as he counts.
“So we’ll meet him with all three at the front lines. Fear does not wield us, after all. Only strength.” Kaiser says it like a mantra. You suspect it might be exactly that.
~
“What a pleasant surprise to see you again so soon, princess.”
As an ally, Sae arrived on the day of battle without question. He is much different from the first time you saw him, chainmail armor wraps tight and sleek around his body, clearly of a weight underneath his clothing. He stands straighter, shoulders broader, badges clipped to his outer jacket. It’s clear to anyone who looks at him, that it’s almost like he was born into them – meant for them.
“You’re both on the front lines then?”
“Idle hands,” Kaiser starts.
“Devil’s workshop.” You finish. You hear a horse galloping, then a voice.
“There’s something wrong.” The people give a wide berth as Oliver arrives, with a sleek black mare that’s obedient as can be. “The majority of the enemies’ troops are not in front of us.”
All of you turn to look, but it’s on the front lines that makes it most difficult to tell where the crowd begins and ends.
“I did a rough head count from the tower. This isn’t the count we had observed just the other day. They’ll die easily, like this, against us. And I don’t mean that from an egotistical standpoint. I think these men are here to die, meant to die. It serves to mean –”
“This is a distraction.”
Karasu appears at your side, with an utmost silence only he is capable of. “They’re headed for the main castle, from around the edge of the border.”
You and Kaiser look to each other with a whole silent conversation, and Sae sighs.
“Go on, then.”
You turn to Sae immediately, with a seriousness he doesn’t expect. “You’ll be unprotected.”
“We chopped liver to you, girl?” Shidou sneers.
Oliver drops down from his horse. “I’ll take over here.”
“Your care for me is truly touching, princess,” Sae’s voice lilts touchingly, almost revealing how much he likes it. “But you swore a vow to this kingdom, so go fulfill it.”
Even in the middle of a war, it gets Kaiser all worked up, his chin jutting as you both run back to the palace. But Sae understands duty, stands by it. It’s what makes him worthy of his own title in his own kingdom.
Oliver waits until you’re both out of sight before turning to Sae. “Did you really plan to steal her?”
“Well,” Sae shrugs. “Did you plan on letting her go so easily?”
~
Your water runs in cascading waves through the whole of the palace, like the ocean itself comes rushing through the walls. It knocks all the soldiers down as you and Kaiser run through, and he picks up any stragglers with ease.
“The throne room?” Kaiser slams the hilt of his sword into the guy behind him, and he collapses instantly.
“It is the safest room.”
“That makes no sense. If you knew anything about our people, you’d know we never hide ourselves there in a battle.”
“Go anyways,” you tell him, as another man gets thrown off his feet. “Go, Kaiser!”
He takes one final look at you, at the strength that you hold in your hands, and then he runs.
The man he finds sitting on the throne has black hair cut blunt to his chin, a white mask over one side of his face. Kaiser unsheathes his sword, pointed straight and true.
“That throne doesn’t belong to you.”
“It will. Along with that sword you’re holding.”
Kaiser chuckles, the kind that has madness interlaced in it. “If you wanted the sword so bad, you could’ve asked for a one-on-one combat duel. I haven’t had a satisfying fight in a long time, I’d be happy to lay the sword as a winning prize.”
What must be the man’s most elite fighters drop down from the ceiling, crowding in on all sides.
“Ah, I see,” Kaiser stands straighter, reaching behind him to unsheath his second sword. “It is your capabilities that do not match mine.”
When they come for him, it’s clear to even the heavens that he is exactly as he is fated – a force to be reckoned with. He moves like a spider-spun silken web, capturing each of them blow by blow. His swords cut like butter through them with impressive speed and strength. His breath comes fast and hard when he finishes, sweat dripping down his back.
“I see now, prince,” the man approaches him, and it’s closer up that he realizes he’s simply in a suit, no armor. “Why they praise you, despite your blasphemy. You, a prince famous for cursing divinity at a whim’s notice, are a powerful ally. Kneel before me, then, and I’ll cease this all – let you join our cause in a war against the gods, in stealing their divinity from them. I’ll even forgive this transgression of bedding one.”
“Me? Kneel?” The canned laugh that Kaiser lets out echoes. “I kneel to no god, let alone a man who wants to become one.”
“So be it, then.”
Kaiser hears something above him. By the gods, what’s with this guy and ceilings? Is that why he wants to fight here? A dust of something shimmers down, he pulls his cloak over himself-
From the doorway, you throw your water across the room, shielding Kaiser from whatever it may have been. And in the same moment, a poof of shimmer bursts over your own head and tumbles down around you.
“That’s the problem with you gods, isn’t it? You always think you’re infallible.”
You cough, falling to one of your knees. Dread fills inside of you, like a faucet you can’t turn off. You can’t move. How is that possible?
The man taps two fingers to the top of your head, and your world goes dark.
~
When you blink your eyes open, the first thing you’re aware of is the way your vision swims. Your mind feels clouded, stuffed with cotton. You press your palm to your head, and even that feels muted.
“I’ve made her mine now. She’ll do exactly what I say. Does that make you upset?” Is what you think you hear, through the ringing of your ears. “Let’s see you put that god-killing sword to good use then, shall we?”
“It’s. Magic.” You spit out the words as your hands press into the ground. Your legs cramp from the way you’re forcing them to stay down. “Mihya. Run, please.”
“Awh, worried about me?” Kaiser teases as he logs the odds. There is no water that swirls around you, so it begs to reason – you can’t call it. The only weapon you have is a dagger.
Kaiser tilts his head until his neck cracks. “Have some faith in me, princess. I’m not afraid, even against you.”
He breathes, in and out, until the calmness of battle seeps into him, raises his sword pointed right at you. “I’ll win, even against you.”
And then he reveals that cocky, surefire smirk. “You should worry more about not dying yourself.”
When you launch at him, it is without mercy, makes him realize how your kindness seeps into the way you fight. His weapon is bigger, larger, and he uses it to keep you at arm’s length, to wrap around towards the enemy. But he sees his problem almost immediately. Like a puppet on strings, you’re protecting the enemy.
He knows it, the moment the prophecy solidifies into place in his mind. That feeling of being lost on a path, gone with the reigning down a light. The final puzzle piece in the picture.
You will die by the hands of the one you love most. So, it truly was this feeling, after all. Love. An aching thing, something so undoing. An open wound that can only be tendered by you.
For once, the prophecy is not a curse but a guiding starlight. He corners you with strike after strike, until you’re as close as can be to the enemy. And then he approaches you with no defense, lets you strike at him. In the same breath, his sword lands behind you and takes off the enemy’s head.
None of the fight felt as clear as this moment, when your blade presses into his heart.
He collapses, right in front of the throne with you on top of him. The throne that should be undoubtedly his, belonging to him as heir. Tears fall from your face before your mind can clear. Like you know, soul to soul, as his lifeform slips through your fingers. He brings his hand to cup your cheek, as he had wanted to do when you laid like this above him in the sand.
“I did not expect a death so gentle for myself.”
His smile is so bittersweet that it aches all the way to the bottom of your heart. His hand slips down from your face as you finally come to.
“You will not die on me.” You gasp out, a statement said with so much conviction that the silver bell of truth rings in return. You call to your water immediately, a stream so fast it cuts into your skin but you don’t care.
A magic that can only be done once. You take the divine sword from the ground, aim the blade carefully at yourself – your own soul. Only this sword can make a cut like this, with the hand of the divine. You slice your wrist, and instead of blood, pure golden lifeforce pours out.
You separate your divinity from yourself, and you feed it to him. It will not turn him divine. You are only half-divine yourself, after all. What you can give is not nearly enough to turn a man into a God. But it will hold his soul in this world, let you do an unspeakable magic: an exchange of divine power for life, a process long enough for the water to heal his heart back together again. The hand you lay against his mouth shakes more and more with each second that your golden blood pours into him, but your other hand lays steady as ever over his heart, until you feel it beat once, twice. Hear him spurt out a breath.
You collapse on top of him before you can see him open his eyes.
~
“I see the prophecy has been completed.”
When Kaiser wakes, there’s a split second where he thinks he might’ve just ended up wherever souls go at the end of their line. There’s what must be a full-fledged goddess standing right over him. It’s only your warm body splayed across his chest that tells him otherwise. His hands are lightning quick, sitting up and moving to your neck to check your pulse, only exhaling and relaxing once he feels it.
Golden threads extend down the sleeves of the goddess’ arms. He’s seen the paintings. Fate itself stands before him.
“How could you do this?” He makes his disdain clear, lacking any respect one might give to the queen of the gods herself.
“I am sorry.” She answers immediately, and that makes Kaiser’s eyes widen just slightly. “Your grievances, you may relay them to me, if you wish. There is a bigger picture at play here, bigger than you or the water sorceress or even myself. The threads of fate are not woven selfishly.”
“You gods up in your clouds play with the lives of mortals. That has always been written in history. But to her? To one of your own?”
“She is more one of mine than most. The heir to the throne of the Gods, I would’ve entrusted her with my life. It’s why she complies with Fate in every life, without complaint.”
“So she lends you her loyalty, and you take advantage of her. And you dare put yourselves above us?”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Heavy too, are my hands, that weave the golden threads. You and her are one of many that have suffered by my hand. For that, there is no apology I can give. What I can give, well… Would you like to hear your full prophecy, prince?”
Lone Emperor who covets the throne,
You will die by the hands of the one you love most.
Forsaken by all the Gods but one,
Re-emerge, awaken, as the ruler you are meant to become.
In any other circumstance, he would be eager as ever to finally hear the full prophecy. But his eyes are only on you, your slumbering state as he holds you in his arms.
“What will become of her?” He asks quietly.
“She will be a water sorceress, as she had initially been.”
“She will die, then? Like a human does?”
“All things die, hero.” Hero. That’s what he is now, having been trial-passed. The title burns like bourbon down his throat. “Even the divine dies. But yes, she will die as a human, and be reborn again as the cycle permits.”
“A life of such simplicity is not befitting of a woman like her.”
“Who says it would be simple? Besides, she has gone through the trial of the divine once before. Don’t you have faith she could do it again?”
The trial of the divine. He had not known such a thing prior to you. But if anyone could pass it, it would be you.
“I will make her my wife. I care little for the words or respect of the gods, even a queen like yourself. But it is my duty to inform you. If she will have me, I will wed her as has been planned.”
“The prophecy is complete. What happens now is too inconsequential for me to put effort into. However…” she watches you, teartracks streaked down your cheeks. “I’m quite fond of her. I hope for her an easy life.”
In a blink, her form disappears.
“Kaiser!” Oliver’s voice echoes through the halls, taking big leaps with Noa to his side, skidding to a halt when he finally finds you both.
“The goddess-”
“She lives,” Kaiser cups your head into his chest. “Though she is goddess no more. A trade. Not a fair one by any means.” His thumb traces across your cheek, a state of his so vulnerable it renders Oliver speechless.
Noa approaches the threshold where Oliver does not dare. He rests his hand on the crown of Kaiser’s head. “Another chance at life is the greatest gift, and she has granted you as such. That is a debt you’ll never be able to repay her for..”
“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying, then.”
~
It’s only in the aftermath, that you find out how deep in you truly were.
Kaiser takes a big inhale of the winter air. It’s fresh and cold. And with him, the nation breathed a breath anew, and the trial laid in ashes under his feet.
You’re facing the horizon of the sea when he finds you.
In the catch of the light, sometimes he swears he sees the divinity that had shimmered off of you before. It’s almost hard to believe, with the ring of water that floats around you, that it had ever left you at all.
“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, as it always is with you now.
“Relearning the water.”
“What does it say?”
“That I am still its mistress. Still a sorceress,” the water around you drops into the wet sand. “That its loyalty with me is not dependent on divinity.”
He places a hand to the back of your neck, easing out the tensions there. “But?”
You smile weakly. “I have to strain to hear her now.”
“Guess we can’t do that spectacle again for our wedding.” He cracks a smile, something to ease the ache. “Water holds memory, right?”
“That, it does.”
He grabs your hand, pulling you up and towards the waves. You yell for him, but the ocean crashes loudly around you both, and he drags you into the water anyways. Once you’re deep in enough that the waves drape over your knees, he pulls you in close.
“Let her bear witness, then.” He whispers it against your lips, brushing your hair away from your face. He kisses you, deep and with so much heart you might burst from it.
A prophecy unfolded, a fate changed, a life saved.
There’s a part of you that can feel an oncoming future. A sheathing that can block even the eyes of Gods. God-killing weapons that have descended from the heavens themselves. A potion that can cause madness in the minds of the divine. A war between mortals and Gods is coming, you’re sure of it.
But not in this life. In this life, you are a water sorceress, and he is a trial-passed hero. And like in every life, you find your way back to each other, every time.
author's note: ohmygod THANK YOU FOR READING PLEASE tell me what you think!!! this is my longest fic ever so i really hope you enjoyed
Ft. Sunday ノ Blade ノ Aventurine ノ Dr Ratio ノ Jing Yuan ノ Argenti
sum: unintended one night stands with hsr men wc: 15.7k (roughly 2k - 3k per part)
contains: fempovノpnv (unprotected), creampie, (protected in argenti's), oral (receiving and giving), fingering, handjob, college au in argenti's, royal au in sunday's, both had been drinking in ratio's, legal age gap in jing yuan's, loss of virginity (reader's in sunday's part & argenti's in his part)
a/n: argenti's just so sweet <333
༉ - 2k
The safe house was cramped and freezing, with bare walls that felt as though they'd been forgotten by time. The mission was far from over, and so was the night. Blade had insisted on sharing the only bed, his reasoning being that it made more sense for both of you to rest.
You didn’t argue, at least not openly—but as the minutes dragged on, frustration slowly began to creep in.
But beneath it all, there was an undercurrent, a taut thread of tension that whispered of something unspoken—a frustration you weren’t ready to confront.
The bed was far too small for two people. You could feel his presence constantly, his shoulder brushing against yours with every move you made. It was impossible to ignore the heat radiating from his body, or the quiet tension hanging in the air. The silence between you felt suffocating, far too thick.
You shifted again, desperate to find a comfortable spot, but it was futile. His warmth pressed into your side, too close for comfort. No matter which way you turned, there was only more of him—his body right there, almost too much. You tried to pull away, but the space was so tight you were only met with the sharp edges of the bed, forcing you back into him.
“Stop moving,” Blade muttered, his voice low and laced with irritation. But there was something else, a tension that hinted at a deeper frustration.
“This bed barely fits one person, let alone two,” you shot back, your tone tighter than you intended.
He didn’t miss a beat, “You’re welcome to take the floor.”
It wasn’t a real suggestion, the teasing smirk in his voice was undeniable. You huffed, exasperated, letting out a frustrated sigh as the bed creaked under the smallest of movements. It was maddening—this small space, the constant proximity, his body so close that your nerves hummed with awareness. It wasn’t just frustration anymore. Your heart was racing, and not for reasons you wanted to admit.
Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity. The only sounds were your breathing and the ruffling of the duvet. Then Blade's voice sliced through that quiet like a knife. "You're too tense," he said, softer than before but with an edge. "Relax.”
You nearly laughed. Relax? In a bed this small, pressed up against him, with everything swirling between you? It was impossible. Instead, you shifted again, purposefully leaning just a little more into him, testing his patience.
He stiffened, just slightly. "Stop."
It wasn't an order, per se- more of a warning beneath the restraint of desire. The space between you was alive, humming with an unspoken something. Perhaps it was that frustrated buzz of being too close, or perhaps it was simply fatigue from the mission.
"I don't think either of us is getting any sleep tonight," you murmured.
Blade's response was a low grumble, his voice rougher than before. "You're right." Then, ever so slightly, he moved closer, closing the gap until you could feel the heat of his body right against yours again. That subtle shift was enough for your breath to catch in your throat, and the space between you began pulsating with something far more dangerous than mere proximity.
He shifted; his eyes razor-sharp as he spoke, his voice low, almost too calm. "If you're going to keep fidgeting, just say what it is you want.”
You shifted again, your body moving against his in a slow, deliberate motion. The air between you wasn’t just charged—it was thick with unspoken desires and the undeniable pull of him. His heat radiated against your back, his presence a magnetic force that sent a shiver cascading down your spine.
"I don’t know what I want," you murmured, your voice a betrayal. The words faltered under the weight of their lie, and you knew he heard it too. You did know and so did he.
Blade's eyes narrowed, his gaze nearly predatory. "Don't play games," he warned, his voice low.
You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against your ass, insistent and unmistakable. It sent an electric jolt right to your core, making your breath hitch. Knowing you did that to him-that you could make this cold, calculating man lose control-sent an electric thrill through you.
You bit your lip, fighting a moan as Blade's erection pressed even harder against your ass. The intense heat coming off his body seeped into your skin. You knew you should pull away, maintain the professional distance between, but temptation just proved too strong.
You arched your back, pushing against him. A low groan rumbled from his lips and you could feel his control slipping, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his need.
"Don't tease," he growled, low and rough with desire. His fingers gripped your skin, firm and possessive, leaving faint crescents in their wake. A warning, a promise. You should stop this—walk away before the fire consumes you both. But you didn’t. Instead, your body moved of its own accord, your back arching again, pressing your ass against him with deliberate insistence.
The low, guttural sound that escaped his lips was almost feral, reverberating through you and igniting something wild. Blade’s hand slid up your thigh, his fingertips grazing the edge of your shorts. You knew you should probably stop this but as his fingers hovered, promising more, the pull of temptation was too strong and you couldn’t push him away. You didn’t want to.
"Blade." you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper.
His fingers curled around your thigh, jerking you closer. "Don't say my name like that," he growled, his voice low and rough with wanting. "Not unless you mean it."
You reached back deliberately, slowly, your hand finding his wrist. But instead of pushing him away, you pulled his hand higher, guiding his fingers to the damp heat between your legs. A low groan escaped his lips as he felt how wet you were, how much you wanted this.
Blade's fingers circled your clit, sending a shockwave of pleasure through your body. You bit your lip, trying to hold back a moan. His touch was electric, making your body shake with need.
His fingers slid lower, teasing your entrance, and making you ache for more. You arched your back, pressing your ass harder against his bulge. The friction was maddening; the heat between your bodies was almost unbearable.
"Please," you whispered. The word slipped out before you could catch it. "Blade, please."
The low growl was his immediate response, and his fingers slipped inside you. "Fuck," he growled, sounding rough with desire. "You're so wet."
You gasped as Blade's fingers plunged deep inside you, your hips bucked involuntarily, seeking more. His other hand gripped your hip, holding you in place as he thrust his fingers in and out, setting a brutal pace that had you seeing stars.
"That’s it-" he purred, his voice low and rough, sending shivers skittering down your spine. His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, the words a seductive growl. "Take what you need."
The thought of his cock filling you, made your head spin. Your hand moved instinctively, fingers fumbling in a desperate attempt to free his cock. Blade's breath caught as your fingers reached around to his cock, stroking him through the fabric of his pants. You turned in his arms, facing him now, his eyes were dark with lust as you straddled him. "I want you," you breathed.
His hands gripped your hips, "Are you sure?" he growled, his voice rough with restraint.
You nodded, your lips skimming his.
His resolve shattered. You reached between your bodies, your hand slipping inside his pants to free him. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy in your hand, the tip slick with precum. You wrapped your fingers around him, stroking him slowly, teasing him, delighting in the low, guttural sound that rumbled through his chest. Blade’s control cracked further as his hips jerked into your hand.
"I'm sure," you breathed, positioning yourself above him. "I want you to fuck me, Blade. I need it."
With that, you sank down onto him, taking his cock deep inside you in one smooth motion. A low moan tore from your throat at the sensation of being stretched and filled so completely. Blade's hands tightened on your hips, his fingers leaving bruises in their wake.
"Fuck," he growled, his head falling back against the pillow. "You feel so good."
You started to move, rising up and sinking back down, finding a rhythm that had sparks of pleasure shooting through your body with each thrust. Blade matched your movements, his hips snapping up to meet yours, driving himself deeper inside you.
The room was filled with the sounds of your moans and the slap of skin on skin, the bed creaking beneath you while you rode him.
"Harder," you demanded, your nails raking down his chest. "Fuck me harder."
Blade's response was to flip you onto your back, never once slipping out of you. He loomed over you, his eyes wild and hungry, his hips pistoning into you with a force that had the headboard slamming against the wall.
Your legs coiled around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, urging him to claim you fully. A moan tore from your lips, unbridled and desperate. "Yes," you gasped, your fingers clutching the sheets as his cock stretched and filled you, the sensation both overwhelming and addicting. "Don’t stop—just like that."
He silenced you with a bruising kiss, his mouth crashing against yours with a fervour that bordered on feral. His tongue danced against yours, matching the rhythm of his hips, exploring and claiming. You met him with equal hunger, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, the taste of copper blooming as you bit down. The sharp pain only seemed to drive him wilder.
Blade’s rhythm faltered for a moment, becoming chaotic, each thrust harder, deeper, as if he was losing control. His breath was ragged against your mouth, his groan reverberating low in his chest. "Fuck," he growled, the word guttural, strained, trembling with need. "I’m so close."
Your nails raked down his sweat-slicked back, leaving fiery trails along his skin. "Me too," you managed between breathless gasps, your body arching into him, seeking the climax coiling tight within you. "Don’t stop. Please don’t stop."
His movements turned punishing, each drive a collision of raw power and desperation, his body demanding your surrender. The pressure inside you built to a fever pitch, a tether about to snap. Blade’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding, "Come for me, pretty girl."
Those words, spoken with such command, were enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed, your inner walls clamping down around Blade's cock as your orgasm crashed over you in waves of intense, overwhelming pleasure.
"Yes -God yes!" you cried out, your head thrown back.
Blade followed, his hips slamming into you one final time as his release overtook him. His guttural groan was almost primal, his cock throbbing inside you as he poured himself into you, his body trembling with the force of his orgasm as some of his cum dripped out, running down your thighs.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The only sound was of your mingled breaths. Your bodies shone with sweat, were entwined. His weight pressed you into the mattress, exhaustion in his muscles.
Blade’s lips brushed against your temple, softer now, a contrast to the raw passion that had consumed you both moments before. And as your heartbeats slowed, his presence became the only thing you knew—a warmth, a gravity, pulling you under.
Blade rolled onto his back beside you, his arm pulling you close. You snuggled into his side, your head resting on his chest.
"That was..." you started, but words failed you.
Blade chuckled softly, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. "Yeah," he agreed, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "It was."
༉ - 2.8k
The corridors are quieter than usual tonight, save for the faint echo of your footsteps and the sound of Sir Sunday’s armour as he walks beside you. You have done this many times before: this midnight escort from the ballroom to your chambers, accompanied by your knight. But there was something about tonight that felt different and maybe that’s because the event was hosted to find you a suitor.
The silence stretches, broken only by the soft rustle of your gown against the polished floor. His presence always feels heavier, and there's an edge to the air between you, something unsaid pressing against the confines of propriety.
"They were all good choices," Sunday says at last, in a low and even tone.
Your brow furrows. "Were they?"
He doesn't look at you as he replies. "I'd expect so. The court wouldn't invite anyone unworthy.".
You look over at him, catching the faint tension in his jaw. There's something restrained in the way he speaks tonight, something tightly wound beneath the surface. "And yet, I didn't choose any of them.".
He exhales sharply, the sound barely audible over his steps. “I’m sure you had your reasons.”
You slow your pace just enough that he has to adjust his stride to match. “Would you like to know them?”
His gaze flickers toward you briefly, a flash of gold under the dim light. “I doubt they’re for me to know, Your Highness.”
You stop to face him. The soft light casts shadows across his features, sharp and unreadable as always, but there’s something in his stance—a slight hesitation, the way his hand hovers just above the hilt of his sword—that betrays him.
"Maybe they are," you say, softer now, your voice barely enough to draw his attention fully.
For a moment, the distance between you feels insurmountable, though it's only a step or two. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, but his eyes search yours, as if trying to piece together what you're not saying aloud.
"I dismissed them all because none of them felt…" You pause, to think over the words. "....Right."
Sunday's grip tightens on the hilt of his sword. "You'll have to choose eventually," he says, deliberately keeping his voice neutral. "The court won't let you wait forever.".
"And what if I don't want to?"
The question hangs in the air, daring him to respond. You watch the flicker of something in his expression—surprise, perhaps, or maybe something deeper, something he’s worked too hard to keep buried.
“You’re the princess,” he says, but the words are softer this time, almost hesitant.
"And you're my knight," you reply, closing the distance.
He doesn't back up, but you notice the way his shoulders tense. "Exactly. And that is all I can be.".
Your breath catches at how his voice drops on the last word. There's no anger in it, no bitterness—only a quiet resignation.
"You think so, huh?" you whisper, not much louder than a whisper.
He turns away, tongue against his cheek. "I do."
You lift a hand before you can stop yourself, fingers brushing against the cold steel of his chest plate. The contrast between the armour and the warmth of the man beneath it sends a shiver through you. He freezes at the contact, his gaze snapping back to yours.
"Sunday…". His name is too familiar on your lips, but you can't stop.
"Don't." His voice is rough, but his hand rises, fingers curling loosely around your wrist. He doesn't pull you away, though; he doesn't move at all. "If you say anything else, I won't be able to forget it."
"Maybe I don't want you to."
The words have barely left your lips when he takes a step closer, erasing the distance between you. His eyes still remain so intense that they're pinning you in place, but there's a flicker of uncertainty there, too.
"This isn't a decision you can take lightly," he says in a low, hoarse voice.
"I already have."
He watches you, a silence building between you, gaining more and more weight with each passing second. Then, as if something inside him finally snaps, he lets go of your wrist only to frame your face with both hands.
"Tell me to stop," he whispers, his forehead against yours.
You don't.
His breath catches as you lean into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed for a moment. When you open them again, "I won't ask again," he whispers, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.
You swallow hard, your heart pounding so loudly that you are sure he can hear it. But you don't step back. You don't tell him to stop. You simply tilt your chin up, just a fraction, an invitation he doesn't need twice.
His lips brush against yours, tender at first, then pressing. It's the sort of kiss that seems like one great confession, revelation, and promise all at once. His hands move to the small of your back, drawing you closer, and you can't help but melt into him, your fingers twisting in the fabric of his tunic.
When he finally pulls back, you’re both breathing hard. His eyes are dark, pupils blown wide, and there’s a hunger in his gaze that makes your stomach flip.
"We can't…" he begins, but the words are half-hearted, not very convincing.
"We can," you correct, your voice steadier than you feel.
He looks at you for a long moment, something fierce and tender warring in his expression. Then, with a low groan, he surges forward again, capturing your lips with his own. This kiss is harder, more urgent, and you can feel the way his body trembles against yours.
“Your chambers” he mumbles against your mouth. “Now.”
Without any warning, he sweeps you into his arms, cuddling you against his chest as he heads down the hall. Your heart races with the sudden motion, but you do nothing to protest it-merely wrapping your arms around his neck for balance.
The castle is quiet at this time of night, most people having gone to bed. You feel as though you have the whole world to yourselves as Sunday carries you swiftly through the halls, his footsteps echoing in the stillness.
He doesn’t wait around when you reach your chambers: he kicks the door shut behind you and pins you against it with his body, hands roaming over your curves, mapping out your form through the layers of your gown.
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he growls, his lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. “Wanted you.”
You arch into him, your head falling back as you let him in closer. "Then take me," you whisper, fingers curling in his hair.
He makes a low sound in his throat, something between a groan and a growl. His fingers find the fastenings of your dress and begin to undo them one by one, till the fabric pools at your feet. You stand before him clad in nothing other than your chemise, the thin material doing little to mask the signs of your body's reaction to his touch.
His gaze rakes over you, hungry and appreciative. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist.
He lifts you easily and sets you down on the bed. The sheets are cold against your bare skin as he lays you down, his body following yours, looking down at you with an intensity that takes the breath from your lungs.
"You sure about this?" he asks low, his voice rough with emotion.
You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," you whisper.
That seems to be the only confirmation he needs. He bends down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that sends a tide of heat through your body, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste you thoroughly. You moan against his lips, your hands roving over his hard back.
His lips trail down your neck, tracing a path of fire in their wake. He pauses to suckle at your pulse point, and you can feel the way your heart races beneath his tongue. His hands slip under your chemise, and his calloused fingers skim the sensitive skin of your stomach.
"Sunday-" you gasp, arching into his touch.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “Just relax.”
You do your best to listen, focusing on the feel of his hands on your skin. He explores you at leisure, learning every dip and curve, every spot that makes you sigh or whimper. By the time he carefully removes your panties, you're trembling with need.
He looks up at you, his eyes dark with wanting. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he says, his fingers teasing at your entrance.
"Don't-please-."
He pauses, his fingers stilling above your pussy. His eyes meet yours, filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. "Are you-" he starts, his voice soft.
You nod, knowing exactly what he’s going to ask, "I've never…”
His expression softens further, if that’s even possible. He presses a kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then your lips. “I’ll be gentle,” he promises. “We’ll take this slow.”
As you nod, he drops between your legs and his breath ghosts over your folds. He starts off slow, his tongue tracing delicate patterns and teasing you with light touches until, gradually, the pressure builds up, licking and sucking on your clit until you're gasping and writhing beneath him.
His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth. He is patient, very attentive, judging by your reactions and modulating his technique accordingly. When you're trembling near the edge, he slips a finger inside you, then two, stretching you slowly.
"That's it," he mutters, his voice muffled against your skin.
He groans against your skin, the vibrations sending shivers through you. "You taste so fucking good," he mumbles, his words just a little slurred. "Can't get enough."
As he continues to lap at your clit, his free hand slides down his own body, disappearing beneath the waistband of his trousers. You can hear the slick sound of skin on skin as he begins to stroke himself.
"Fuck," he gasps, his hips bucking into his hand. "Want to be inside you so badly."
He redoubles his efforts, his tongue delving deep, his fingers pumping faster. The dual sensations are almost too much to bear, and you can feel your orgasm building, your inner walls starting to flutter around his fingers.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Come for me, baby. I want to taste you."
With a few more well-placed licks, you're there, crying out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. He laps at your release, his own hand moving frantically over his cock, his groans muffled from where he’s buried himself against your folds.
He easily settles himself between your thighs, his cock at your entrance. His eyes were filled with a mixture of lust and tenderness as he looked down at you.
"You ready?" he asks, his voice low and rough.
You nod, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. "Yes," you whisper. "I'm ready."
With a low groan, he starts to push inside, slow and careful with his movements. There's only a slight sting as he pushes in deeper, his eyes widening in concern.
"Does it hurt?" he asks, his brow furrowed.
You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. "No, I'm okay. Please, don't stop."
He searches your eyes for a moment, then nods, leaning down to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
You can feel every inch of him as he stretches you, filling you in a way you never have been filled before; it's agonisingly slow, but he refuses to be selfish and make this about his own pleasure.
"Fuck," he gasps, his forehead resting against yours. "You feel incredible."
He gives you a moment to adjust, his hips pressed flush against yours. He starts to move, his thrusts slow and shallow at first. Each drag of his cock against your sensitive walls sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you can't help but moan.
"That's it," he encourages, his voice strained. "Let me hear you."
He increases his pace gradually, his hands gripping your hips for leverage. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your gasps and cries.
He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing your moans. His tongue delves into your mouth, mimicking the rhythm of his hips.
"You're taking me so well," he praises, his breath hot against your ear. "Such a good girl."
His hips roll in a steady rhythm, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure through you. One hand slides up your side, cupping your breast and thumbing your nipple. The dual sensations make you gasp into his mouth.
"You're so beautiful," he breathes, his eyes locked on yours. "So perfect."
He shifts slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts. You cry out as he hits a particularly sensitive spot deep inside you.
"There," he groans, doing it again. "Is that good?"
You can only nod, your nails digging into his back as he drives you higher and higher. The pleasure builds with each stroke, coiling tighter and tighter in your core.
He groans, his hips snapping forward as he buries himself deep inside you. "Fuck, angel," he pants, his voice strained with pleasure. "I love you. I've loved you for so long."
The confession bursts from his lips in something like prayer, and his eyes shine with its vehemence. It is as though a dam has burst inside him and all his pent-up feelings are pouring out in this moment.
"I know you're s'posed to pick one from the court," he goes on, his pistoning never flagging. "But don't. Please. Don't give yourself to anybody else."
His hands clamp down on your hips, fingers digging in soft. "Choose me," he begs, his voice cracking. "Be mine. Only mine."
You can almost feel the desperation in his words, the raw need. It's readily apparent how the thought of you with another man is tearing him apart.
"I'll do anything," he whispers, his forehead against yours. "Anything to keep you. Just say you'll be mine."
His words are like a warm bath washing over you, filling your heart full of something that has nothing to do with physical pleasure. In this moment, you know without a single doubt that you want to be his and his alone.
"I'm yours," you breathe, legs wrapping around his waist. "Now and always." He surges forward, capturing your lips in a reverent, passionate kiss. He picks up speed, his hips moving faster, harder, as though he's trying to pour every ounce of love he has into you.
"I love you," he gasps against your mouth. "I love you so much."
His thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps. "Fuck," he groans. "I'm close. So close."
You could feel him throbbing inside of you, his cock pulsing with each stroke. Your pleasure was mounting to a crescendo as well, your inner walls fluttering around him.
"Come with me," he pleads, voice ragged. "I want to feel you come undone." His hand snakes between your bodies, finding your clit. He rubs tight circles around the sensitive nub, and that's all it takes. You cry out as your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking with the force of it.
He follows a moment later, his hips stuttering as he spills himself deep inside you. He falls on top of you, his weight pinning you to the mattress. His cock still is buried deep inside, pulsating with aftershocks of his orgasm.
He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin. "That was... incredible," he murmurs, his voice muffled.
His arms wrap around you, holding you close. It's a protective gesture, as if he's afraid you might slip away if he lets go.
"Stay with me," he whispers, his lips brushing your pulse point. "Don't leave me."
You curl into him, relishing the feeling of his body against yours. "I'm not going anywhere," you promise. "I'm right here."
He sighs contentedly, his grip on you loosening slightly. "Good," he murmurs. "Because I don't think I could bear it if you married any of them."
You smile, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his back. In this moment, everything feels right. The world outside might be chaos, but here, in his arms, you're safe. You're home.
༉ - 3.1k
Argenti sat on the floor of your dorm room, trying his best not to feel completely out of place. He’d been here a few times already—enough to recognise the familiar scent of citrus from the candles you always kept burning. But even so, it still felt a little surreal. You, the girl everyone at the university seemed to know and admire, had somehow invited him into your space.
He wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened. One night, a random chat at a party turned into shared laughs, then another conversation, until the two of you were talking long after your friends had left. Since then, you’d found reasons to hang out, even though it seemed to baffle everyone around you. You, the social butterfly, and him, the reserved guy who somehow ended up regularly meeting up with you outside of classes.
“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you suddenly said, breaking the comfortable silence as you lounged on your bed.
“What’s weird?” Argenti asked, glancing up from the guitar pick he’d been absentmindedly fiddling with.
“Us.” You made a vague gesture between the two of you, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of your lips. “I mean, we’re just very different”
Argenti blinked, unsure of what you meant. Was it a good different? Or a bad one? “I—I guess,” he stammered, his voice unsure. “But it works, doesn’t it?”
You tilted your head, studying him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “Yeah, it does,” you finally said, your smile softening. “You’re sweet, Argenti.”
“Thanks?” he mumbled, his face warming up. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but the compliment made him feel a little lighter.
You laughed at his blush suddenly wondering if there was a reason he became so flustered over small things. Sitting up, you leaned forward, resting your chin in your hand. “Have you ever kissed anyone before?”
Argenti froze, his face going red in an instant. “Uh… why?”
You shrugged, clearly amused by his reaction. “Because you’ve got that look. You know, like you’ve thought about it a lot but never actually done it.”
“I don’t… have a look,” he muttered, but even his awkward attempt to brush it off didn’t work. “But no. I haven’t.”
Your eyes widened, and then you laughed—a genuine, playful laugh that felt more teasing than mean. “Wait, seriously? Not even like a dare or something?”
He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. “No,” he mumbled, feeling heat crawl up his neck. “I just… never really had the chance.”
You didn’t let up. “You’re telling me you’ve gone your whole life without even one kiss?”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” he blurted out, immediately regretting it. He winced, wishing he could take the words back.
“Oh?” You raised an eyebrow, the teasing gleam in your eyes shifting into something more playful. “Are you saying you want to change that?”
“I—I didn’t mean—” Argenti stammered, his face burning. But then your hand brushed lightly against his arm, and he looked up to find you studying him, a mysterious glint in your eyes.
“You want me to teach you?” you asked, your voice quiet now, though still carrying that playful edge.
His heart skipped a beat. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to—”
“Relax, Argenti,” you said, leaning in just a little closer. “I’m not doing this out of pity. Trust me, you’re a good looking guy, pretty face.”
He didn’t know whether to laugh or combust, but before he could say anything, you were already moving in, your gaze locked on his as you tilted your head. “Okay,” you murmured, voice soft. “Here’s how this works. Don’t overthink it. Just… follow my lead, alright?”
He nodded, his thoughts jumbled as he fought to find his bearings. Then your lips brushed against his—gentle, almost tentative, testing the waters. It was quick, almost too quick, and when you pulled away, you studied him with an amused expression, clearly pleased by the way he’d reacted.
Argenti’s mind spun for a moment, still reeling from the sudden soft pressure of your lips. But as your eyes met his again, something inside him clicked. The hesitation, the awkwardness—it all seemed so distant now. This was real, and there was no way he was going to let it slip away.
Without thinking, his hand rose to cup your cheek, gently pulling you toward him. His heart raced as the space between you vanished, and in a smooth motion, he leaned in again, this time with a newfound confidence.
The kiss came quickly, without hesitation, and it was unrestrained, still soft, but with a sense of urgency he hadn’t expected. He kissed you with intention now, the sweetness and eagerness spilling out in the way his lips moved against yours. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair, pulling you just a little closer as if he wanted to lose himself in the moment. He’d never felt anything like this before.
The kiss wasn’t perfect. He stumbled a little, his lips not quite finding the rhythm, a few moments of clumsy movement as he tried to keep up. But in that imperfection, there was something pure. There was something real about it. Each time his lips brushed against yours, a little out of sync, you were patient, guiding him back.
It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a seasoned kisser. He made up for it with sweetness—lingering just a little longer than necessary, his hand never leaving your cheek, as if it was the only thing that mattered in the world. Each time he leaned back in, he was driven by a need to prove that he could do this, that he wanted to be here with you.
When he finally pulled back, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he couldn’t help but glance up at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly, as if he’d just run a marathon. His lips were swollen, and a nervous smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I probably messed that up.”
But when your gaze met his, there was no judgement, only amusement—and something softer, something deeper in your eyes.
“No,” you said gently, tracing your fingers along his jaw. “You didn’t mess it up. It was… sweet. Really sweet.”
Argenti’s heart did a flip at the praise, and the knot in his stomach began to loosen. “I just—wanted to do it right,” he admitted quietly. “I didn’t want to mess it up with you.”
You smiled, that familiar teasing gleam still in your eyes, but now with something warmer behind it. “Well, you didn’t. And if it helps, I think you’ve got a lot of potential. It’s just… practice.” You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling mischievously. “And maybe a little bit of confidence. But don’t worry, I’m happy to teach you.”
The words sent a thrill through him. “I think I could learn from you,” he said, his voice a little breathless, his smile genuine. He was starting to feel more at ease, less unsure of himself. “I don’t mind practising.”
You laughed softly, your fingers brushing across his cheek, sending another wave of warmth through him. “Good,” you said, your voice light but sincere. “Because I’m not letting you off that easily.”
He leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss, this one deeper, more urgent. His hands roamed your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any distance between your bodies.
He could feel the warmth of your skin through your clothes, could smell the faint scent of your perfume. It was dizzying, overwhelming in the best way. He lost himself in the sensation, in the taste of your lips, the softness of your mouth.
When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard. Argenti's eyes were dark, pupils dilated with desire. "I want..." he started, then faltered, unsure how to put the ache inside him into words.
"What do you want, Argenti?" you asked, your voice a husky whisper. Your hands slid down his chest, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt.
"I want to touch you," he breathed, his voice barely audible over the pounding of his heart. "I want to see you" He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet your gaze. "I want you."
He watched as your eyes searched his face, saw the moment understanding dawned. A slow, seductive smile spread across your lips, and your fingers tightened on his shirt. "Then show me what you want." you whispered, your voice low and sultry.
Argenti's breath caught, his body responding instantly to your words. Emboldened, he reached for you, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. Slowly, he lifted it, revealing inch after inch of smooth, warm skin. He drank in the sight of you, committing every curve and dip to memory.
When the shirt fell away, he leaned in, pressing his lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a soft moan escaping your lips as his mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along your collarbone. His hands roamed your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra.
He could feel your heart racing beneath his touch, could hear the hitch in your breath as his fingers found the clasp of your bra. With a deft movement, he unhooked it, letting the garment fall away. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, naked from the waist up, your breasts full and perfect.
Unable to resist, he cupped one in his palm, marvelling at the feel of it, the softness. He thumbed your nipple, watching it pebble under his touch. Your breath hitched, and you arched into him, wordlessly encouraging him.
He took the hardened nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as he lavished attention on your breasts, alternating between gentle sucking and teasing nips.
Your skin was hot beneath his hands, your body pliant and responsive. He could feel the heat building between your legs, could sense your arousal growing with each passing moment. It spurred him on, fuelled his own desire.
“Let me-” you whispered, wanting to help him out, noticing his obvious bulge.
Argenti's breath hitched as your hands moved to his belt, your fingers deftly working to undo the buckle. He watched, transfixed, as you slowly unzipped his jeans, your knuckles brushing against his straining erection.
He swallowed hard, his hips twitching involuntarily at the contact. "I want to make you feel good too," he managed to say, his voice rough with need.
You smiled, a wicked gleam in your eyes. "Patience," you purred, pushing his jeans and boxers down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, the tip already glistening with pre-cum.
You wrapped your hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip. Argenti groaned, his head falling back as pleasure coursed through him. "Fuck," he gasped, his hips bucking into your touch.
You increased your pace, your grip firm but gentle. Your other hand cupped his balls, rolling them in your palm. "It’s pretty" you murmured, your breath hot against his ear.
Argenti's heart raced as your hand worked him over, pleasure sparking through his veins with each stroke. His cock throbbed in your grip, the sensation almost too intense to bear.
"Your hand—it feels incredible," he panted, his voice strained with need.
You smiled, clearly enjoying the effect you were having on him. Your thumb swiped over the sensitive head, smearing the bead of pre-cum that had gathered there. You lowered your head, your tongue darting out to lick a long stripe up his shaft. Argenti's breath caught, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.
You took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. Your tongue swirled around him as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each descent. The wet heat of your mouth was exquisite, driving Argenti wild with pleasure. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tightly as he fought the urge to thrust into you.
You hummed around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.
Argenti's grip on your hair tightened as you took him deeper, your throat constricting around his throbbing cock. The sensation was indescribable, unlike anything he'd ever felt before. Pleasure built at the base of his spine, coiling tighter and tighter with each pass of your tongue.
He could feel his orgasm approaching, the tightening of his muscles. But he didn't want this to end, not yet. He wanted to savour every moment, every sensation.
He quickly pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. You looked up at him, your lips swollen, your eyes heavy-lidded with desire.
"I need to be inside you," he rasped, his voice rough with need. "I want to feel you around me when I come."
You chuckle at his neediness as you lean across your bed, grabbing a condom from your drawer.
Argenti's eyes widened as you retrieved a condom from your drawer, a mix of anticipation and nerves fluttering in his stomach. He watched as you tore open the packet and then rolled the condom onto his cock, your fingers brushing against his sensitive skin, making him shudder.
Once the condom was in place, you turned around, giving Argenti a tantalising view of your ass as you bent over slightly. You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your legs, revealing your pussy to him.
Argenti's mouth went dry at the sight, his cock twitching with renewed interest. He stepped forward, his hands coming to rest on your hips as he pressed himself against you. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin.
Argenti's hands trembled slightly as he positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his condom-sheathed cock nudging against your slick folds. He could feel the heat emanating from your core, beckoning him to plunge inside.
"I've never done this before," he admitted softly, his voice tinged with a mix of nervousness and excitement. "I want to do it right. I want to make you feel good."
You glanced back at him over your shoulder, a reassuring smile on your lips. "Just go slow," you murmured, reaching back to guide him forward. "And don't worry about doing it perfectly. Just focus on how it feels."
Argenti nodded, taking a deep breath as he began to push forward. The sensation was unlike anything he'd ever experienced - the tight heat of your pussy enveloping him, drawing him deeper. He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the feeling. Inch by inch, he sank into you, until he was buried to the hilt.
Argenti bit down on his lip, fighting the urge to come right then and there. The sensation of being inside you was overwhelming, your tight heat gripping him like a vice. He could feel every flutter of your walls around his cock, every pulse of your arousal.
"Shit-” he gasped, his hips twitching involuntarily.
He forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to regain some semblance of control. He wanted this to last, wanted to make it good for you.
Slowly, carefully, he began to move, pulling out until just the tip remained inside before sliding back in. He set a steady rhythm, rocking into you with deep, measured strokes. Your moans filled the room, spurring him on. He could feel your body responding to his, your hips pushing back to meet his thrusts.
"Is this good?" he asked, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.
Your reassuring moans and the way your body moved against his told Argenti all he needed to know. He continued to thrust, gradually increasing his pace as he grew more confident.
The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by your breathy gasps and his low groans. Sweat beaded on his brow as he lost himself in the sensation, in the feel of your body beneath his. He could feel his orgasm building, the pressure coiling tighter and tighter in his core. But he held back, determined to make sure you reached your peak first.
His hand slid around your hip, finding your clit. He rubbed in slow circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Argenti's fingers worked your clit in time with his thrusts, the dual stimulation driving you closer to the edge. He could feel your body tensing, your walls fluttering around him as your pleasure mounted.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice low and rough. "Come for me. Let me feel you."
Your moans grew louder, more urgent, and Argenti knew you were close. He redoubled his efforts, thrusting harder, faster, his fingers circling your clit with increasing pressure.
Suddenly, your back arched, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm crashed over you. Your pussy clenched around him, rippling along his cock, and Argenti groaned, the sensation pushing him over the brink.
With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he came hard. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him, his vision whiting out as he rode out the intensity of his release.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Finally, Argenti slipped out of you, disposing of the condom before collapsing beside you on the bed. He turned his head to look at you, a lazy smile on his lips.
Argenti's heart swelled at the gentle press of your lips against his forehead. The simple, tender gesture spoke volumes, conveying a depth of care and affection that he'd never experienced before.
He reached up, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulled you down for a soft, lingering kiss. It was different from the heated passion of before, this kiss. It was sweet, almost chaste, a physical manifestation of the connection growing between you.
When you pulled away, he gazed into your eyes, his own shining with a mix of contentment and wonder.
“You’re a natural.” you joke with a soft laugh as you wrap your arms around him.
Argenti chuckled, the sound deep and rich as he rested his head against your chest. "I think I'm a quick learner."
༉ - 2.5k
The casino floor was alive with energy, especially at your table. You and Aventurine had been on a streak for so long it was starting to turn heads. Chips piled up in neat stacks in front of you both, the gleam of gold and the scent of success making the night feel almost unreal.
“Another win,” Aventurine announced casually as the dealer slid another stack his way. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he leaned back in his chair, the picture of effortless cool. “But let’s be real here. This run? It’s all because of me. Clearly, I’m your lucky charm.”
You scoffed, crossing your arms as you gave him an incredulous look. “You’re my lucky charm? I think you’ve got that backwards. If anything, you should be thanking me.”
He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the table. “Oh, is that how it is? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like I’ve been carrying this team all night.”
You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Carrying? Please. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’ve carried is that overinflated ego of yours.”
Aventurine laughed, a low, warm sound that sent a pleasant thrill up your spine. He tilted his head, his gaze locking with yours in a way that made your pulse quicken. “You talk a big game for someone who wouldn’t be winning without me. Admit it—you’re having fun because I’m here.”
You leaned in closer, matching his energy. “Oh, absolutely,” you said, voice dripping with mock sincerity. “It’s so much fun watching you pretend you’re the reason we’re winning when we both know who’s really the lucky one here.”
His eyes narrowed slightly, the playful challenge in them unmistakable. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually like having me around.”
You grinned, tapping a finger on the table. “What can I say? You’re entertaining, like a fancy slot machine with nice hair.”
Aventurine barked a laugh, his shoulders shaking. “A slot machine? That’s the best you’ve got?” He leaned even closer, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “You’ve got some nerve.”
“And you love it,” you said with a wink, surprising even yourself with the boldness of your words.
Aventurine’s grin widened, his eyes glinting as he tilted his head slightly. “You know what? You might be right. Guess I’ve got a weakness for confident types.”
The air between you shifted, the playful banter taking on a sharper edge. You refused to back down, instead, you leaned in, your faces just inches apart now.
“Careful, Aventurine,” you said, your voice soft but laced with teasing. “If you keep flirting like that, I might start thinking you’re not just here for the gambling.”
His gaze flicked to your lips for just a fraction of a second before returning to your eyes, his smirk now decidedly more dangerous. “Maybe I’m not.”
The tension between you and Aventurine was electric, the noise of the casino fading into a distant hum. His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with mischief and something more daring. Slowly, deliberately, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, metallic keycard.
He twirled it between his fingers like it was a chip, the move impossibly smooth. “You’re good at reading between the lines,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Think you can figure out what this means?”
Your gaze flicked to the keycard, then back to his face, your heart pounding as your brain scrambled for a witty retort. “Oh, I don’t know,” you teased, raising an eyebrow. “Looks like you’re trying to skip ahead in the game. Aren’t you supposed to take me out to dinner first?”
Aventurine chuckled, the sound rumbling and warm. He slid the card across the table, stopping it just in front of your hand.
You picked up the card slowly, holding it between your fingers as if weighing your options. “What’s the catch?”
“No catch,” he said smoothly, leaning back with a confidence that was infuriatingly attractive. “Unless you count spending more time with me. But if that’s too much of a gamble, I’d understand.”
He collected his chips as he stood up, leaving the table, “Don’t keep me waiting too long. Wouldn’t want that luck to run out, now would we?”
You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you stood, slipping the card into your pocket. “Not a chance.”
—
You locate the room number on the keycard and slide it into the lock. The door swings open to reveal a spacious suite, all sleek lines and modern decor, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a breathtaking view of the city lights below.
Aventurine is leaning against the wall by the window, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He turns as you enter, his eyes glinting in the dim light.
"I wasn't sure if you'd actually show," he says, his voice a low purr. "But I'm glad you did."
You close the door behind you, turning to face him fully. "And miss an opportunity like this? Not a chance."
He pushes off the wall, closing the distance between you with a few easy strides. "Opportunity for what, exactly?" he asks, his gaze roaming over your features with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.
You meet his eyes boldly, refusing to be intimidated. "For whatever you have planned," you say, your voice steady despite the rapid beating of your heart.
Aventurine's lips curve into a smirk, his hand reaching out to trace the line of your jaw with a feather-light touch. "Careful what you wish for," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over your skin. "You might just get it."
Your pulse races at his touch, desire and anticipation coiling tightly in your belly. "Promises, promises," you breathe, tilting your head into his palm.
His answering chuckle is dark and full of promise. "Oh, I always keep my promises," he says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip.
And then his lips are on yours, hot and demanding, and you're lost in the taste and feel of him, the world falling away until there's nothing but the two of you, caught up in a dance.
You melt into the kiss, your hands coming up to tangle in Aventurine's hair, pulling him closer as you press your body against his. He responds eagerly, his arms wrapping around your waist as he deepens the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to tangle with yours.
He tastes of whiskey and sin, and you can't get enough. Your fingers slip under the hem of his shirt, feeling the hard planes of his chest beneath your palms. He groans into your mouth, his hips pressing forward to grind against you, letting you feel the evidence of his arousal.
"Bedroom," he rasps against your lips, his voice rough with desire.
You nod, breathless and wanting, allowing him to lead you towards the bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind you, then spins you around, pinning you against it with his body. His hands are everywhere, slipping under your clothes to stroke heated skin, his mouth trailing fire along your neck.
"You're so fucking sexy," he growls, nipping at your earlobe. "I've wanted this since the moment I saw you."
Your breath hitches as Aventurine's hands roam your body, his touch setting your skin ablaze with desire. You arch into him, craving more, needing to feel every inch of him against you.
He groans, low and primal, his hips grinding harder against yours. His hands slip under your shirt, pushing it up and off, leaving you bare from the waist up. He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes dark with lust.
"Fuck, you're perfect," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the curves of your breasts. He leans down, his mouth hot against your skin as he kisses a trail down your sternum, his tongue flicking out to tease your nipple.
You gasp, your fingers tangling in his hair, holding him close. "Please," you whimper, not even sure what you're begging for, only knowing that you need more, need him.
He chuckles, the vibration sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Patience, love," he purrs, his hands sliding down to pop the button of your jeans. "We've got all night."
And then he's on his knees in front of you. He looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes hooded and full of promise.
"Let me taste you," he murmurs, his fingers hooking in the waistband of your jeans.
You nod mutely, your heart pounding in your chest as Aventurine slowly slides your jeans down your legs, his hands caressing your skin as he goes. He tosses them aside carelessly, leaving you in nothing but your panties, which are already damp with arousal.
He leans forward, his breath hot against your panties. "You're so wet for me already," he murmurs, his fingers tracing the damp spot. "I've barely touched you, and you're dripping."
You squirm under his touch, desperate for more. "Please," you whimper, your hands fisting in his hair. "I need..."
"Shh," he soothes, placing a kiss over your clothed pussy, licking a stripe along your covered slit. "I know what you need. Just relax and let me take care of you."
And then he's pulling your panties aside, his fingers stroking through your slick folds. You gasp, your hips bucking into his touch. He chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin.
"So responsive," he praises, circling your clit with the pad of his thumb. "I can't wait to taste you."
And then his mouth is on you, his tongue delving between your folds, lapping at your essence. You cry out, your head falling back against the door as waves of pleasure crash over you.
He works you skilfully, his tongue alternating between broad strokes and targeted flicks against your clit. His fingers join in, pumping in and out of you, curling to hit that spot inside that makes you see stars.
Your legs tremble as Aventurine's skilled mouth works you over, his tongue delving deep, lapping at your essence. The pleasure builds, coiling tighter and tighter in your core, threatening to snap at any moment.
"Aventurine," you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, pressing his face harder against your aching pussy. "I'm... I'm going to-"
He moans in response, the vibrations sending you hurtling over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you, your vision whiting out as ecstasy consumes you. You grind against his face, riding out the waves of pleasure, his name a broken cry on your lips.
He doesn't stop, prolonging your climax, his fingers and tongue working in tandem to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body. Finally, you collapse back against the door, boneless and sated, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath.
Aventurine rises, his face glistening with your arousal. He licks his lips, his eyes dark with hunger. "So sweet," he purrs, his voice rough. "I could do that forever.”
You can only moan in response, your body still thrumming with aftershocks. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.
He takes your hand, leading you to the bed, pushing you down onto the plush mattress. He crawls over you, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the sheets.
"I need to be inside you," he growls, his hips grinding against yours, letting you feel the hard length of him through his pants. "I need to feel you wrapped around me, squeezing me.”
You reach down, fumbling with the button of his pants, desperate to free his cock. He helps you, shoving his pants and boxers down just enough to spring free, his erection bobbing against your stomach.
"Please," you whimper, wrapping your hand around him, stroking the velvety soft skin. "I need you, too. I need to feel you stretch me, fill me."
He groans, his hips thrusting into your hand. "Fuck, you're killing me," he pants, reaching down to position himself at your entrance.
With a single, powerful thrust, Aventurine pushes his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. You cry out, your back arching off the bed as your body struggles to adjust to his size. He stills, giving you a moment to acclimate, his forehead resting against yours.
"Breathe," he murmurs, his hips flexing slightly, sending sparks of pleasure through you. "Just breathe, love. I've got you."
You take a shuddering breath, your inner walls fluttering around him. Slowly, you begin to move, rocking your hips against his, urging him deeper. He groans, his hands gripping your hips as he starts to thrust, setting a slow, deep rhythm.
"You feel incredible," he pants, his lips brushing against your ear. "I could stay buried inside you forever and die happy."
You clench around him, relishing the feel of him stretching you, filling you. "More," you demand, your nails digging into his back.
He laughs breathlessly, complying with your request, his hips snapping against yours with increased force. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful thrust.
Aventurine's thrusts grow more erratic, his breath coming in short, sharp pants as he nears his peak. His hands grip your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he pounds into you, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed.
"Come with me," he demands, his voice a guttural growl. "I want to feel you come undone around my cock."
Your body tenses, your inner walls fluttering around him as your orgasm approaches. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he finds his release.
The feel of him coming inside you is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out, your body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you. He follows you, his hips jerking as he spills his cum deep within you.
You collapse back against the bed, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. Aventurine follows suit, laying down beside you. He leans over peppering your face with soft kisses, his hands stroking your hair, your back, your sides. "You’re beautiful" he murmurs, his voice soft with satisfaction.
You smile, turning your head to capture his lips in a tender kiss. "You're not so bad yourself," you tease, your fingers tracing idle patterns on his sweat-slicked skin.
He chuckles, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours. "I aim to please," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "And I'm not done with you yet, love. Not by a long shot."
You shiver at the promise in his words, your body already stirring with renewed desire. "Is that so?" you ask, arching an eyebrow. "And what exactly did you have in mind?"
His grin is wicked, his eyes gleaming in the low light. "Oh, I think you'll find out soon enough.”
༉ - 2.8k
Topaz’s flat was warm and inviting, the perfect spot to unwind for a casual evening. Soft amber light spilled across the room, casting a cosy glow that made the space feel like home. Somewhere in the background, faint music played that blended perfectly with the gentle clinking of glasses and low chatter.
“We’ll be right back,” Aventurine called out, with Topaz trailing close behind as they disappeared toward the kitchen.
You had settled comfortably into the corner of the sofa, a glass of wine in hand and Veritas lounging beside you. Tonight, he seemed different—relaxed in a way you rarely saw. His shirt was unbuttoned, his tie discarded, and his usually immaculate hair slightly mussed, as though he’d finally let the weight of the day slip away.
The air between you buzzed with the kind of easy familiarity that only came with years of friendship, though tonight there was something else–.
“Another top-up?” Veritas asked, his voice smoother and slower than usual as he reached for the wine bottle on the low table. Without waiting for an answer, he topped off your glass and then poured more into his own.
“You’re a terrible influence,” you teased, though you made no move to stop him. “If I wake up with a headache tomorrow, I’m blaming you.”
He smirked, swirling his wine with an air of mock innocence. “I’d argue it’s your fault for being such agreeable company.”
The words lingered, their meaning sharper than his usual dry humour. You glanced down at your glass, suddenly unsure what to say. Was it the wine, or was there something more in his tone tonight?
“Quiet now, are we?” he teased, leaning in just slightly. “You’re usually quicker with a retort.”
You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t help but smile. “Just giving you a moment to bask in your supposed wit.”
His chuckle was low and warm, the kind of sound that settled somewhere deep in your chest. His knee grazed yours, a light touch that didn’t feel accidental. When you shifted slightly, his arm brushed against yours and lingered, just enough to make you wonder if he’d noticed it too.
“I’ve always admired that about you,” he said, his voice quieter now.
“Admired what?” you asked, your pulse quickening.
“You have this way of making even the most tedious conversations feel alive.” His eyes softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the sharp, collected man you knew so well. “Though I don’t think this moment qualifies as tedious, does it?”
You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “No. It doesn’t.”
Neither of you moved for a moment. His hand found yours, his fingers warm and steady, and though the gesture caught you off guard, you didn’t pull away. His thumb traced slow circles over your skin, sending a rush of heat up your arm.
“Veritas—” you began, but your voice faltered.
“Too much?” he asked gently, his brows drawing together, as if he was ready to let go at the slightest hint of hesitation.
“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “Not too much.”
His shoulders relaxed, and the faintest trace of a smile appeared on his lips. He shifted closer, his arm sliding along the back of the sofa until his fingers brushed your shoulder. The scent of his cologne—something crisp with a faint warmth beneath it—lingered in the space between you, making your head swim.
The world beyond the sofa seemed to fade. His presence filled the room, his thumb still tracing light, deliberate circles on your hand. When his fingers grazed your neck, their touch feather-light, you couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you.
“You’ve gone quiet again,” he murmured, his tone both teasing and earnest. “Should I be worried?”
You turned to face him, and suddenly his face was so close to yours. His gaze locked onto yours, and your breath hitched. It felt impossible to look away.
“Not worried,” you managed softly. “Just… thinking.”
“Dangerous,” he quipped, though his voice held less humour now. His hand shifted, brushing along the curve of your jaw. His touch was barely there, yet it lit up every nerve. “Care to share?”
You hesitated, not because you didn’t know what to say, but because the words carried weight. “I was thinking,” you said slowly, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart, “that you don’t seem as restrained as usual tonight.”
A flicker of something—surprise, maybe—passed across his face before he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual teasing smirk; it was softer, quieter, like he didn’t want to scare the moment away. “Restraint,” he murmured, “has its time and place. And this… doesn’t feel like one of them.”
The charged silence between you was almost unbearable. Slowly, he leaned in, giving you plenty of time to stop him, but you didn’t.
When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was gentle and tentative, like he was testing the waters. It was fleeting, yet it left your heart racing. His hand slipped to your jaw, steady and warm as he kissed you again, this time with more certainty.
You melted into him, your hands coming to rest against his chest. His heartbeat was fast beneath your palms, and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours.
“We should…” His voice was rough now, laced with restraint. “Move somewhere more private.”
Your heart jumped at the suggestion, and you nodded, your voice barely audible. “Yeah.”
He stood smoothly, his hand slipping into yours as he cast a quick glance toward the kitchen. When he was sure your friends were still out of sight, he guided you down the hallway. His touch was firm, grounding, but there was a tenderness in the way his thumb brushed over your knuckles.
At the end of the hall, he paused outside a closed door. His free hand found the handle, turning it slowly. The hinge creaked softly as he pushed the door open, revealing the spare bedroom. He guided you inside, closing the door behind you with a soft click. The room was small but cosy, with a large window that let in a silver glow.
Veritas turned to face you, his expression a blend of uncertainty and desire. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "We can stop if you want to."
His words were sincere, giving you an out if you needed it. But the way his eyes roamed over your face, the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly around yours, betrayed his own longing.
You took a step closer, closing the distance between you. "I'm sure," you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your palm, and you marvelled at the softness of his stubble against your fingers.
He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a brief moment. When he opened them again, they were dark with want.
He captured your mouth in a searing kiss. It was nothing like the tentative brush of lips from earlier. This time, there was no holding back. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the heat of his body through your clothes, the firmness of his muscles.
You responded eagerly, your hands tangling in his hair as you deepened the kiss. He tasted of wine and something uniquely him - a flavour you knew you'd crave forever. His tongue teased your lower lip before delving into your mouth, exploring and claiming with a passion that left you breathless.
Slowly, he walked you backwards until your legs hit the edge of the bed. He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged as he looked down at you. "Tell me you want this," he breathed, his hands settling on your hips. "Tell me you need me as much as I need you."
The words were a plea, a confession. In this moment, the usually composed and controlled Veritas Ratio was laid bare before you, vulnerable and wanting. Your heart swelled with affection and desire.
"I want this," you whispered, your hands sliding up his chest to link behind his neck. "I need you. Please, Veritas..."
His name on your lips seemed to break the last of his restraint. With a groan, he kissed you again, his hands slipping under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your back.
It wasn’t long before Veritas' fingers deftly worked at the zipper on his trousers, his movements quick yet precise, revealing the bulge straining against his underwear. With a deft tug, he freed his cock, the hard length springing forth, already flushed and throbbing with need.
He stepped back slightly, giving you a moment to take in the sight of him. Moonlight spilled across his body, highlighting the contours of his muscles, the defined lines of his abs. His cock was long, with a prominent vein on the underside.
You wasted no time, sinking to your knees before him. The plush carpet cushioned your knees, but you barely noticed. His cock jutted out, hard and proud, the tip glistening with pre-cum in the moonlight.
Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for him, fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft. He was hot and heavy in your grasp, the skin velvety soft over the rigid flesh beneath. You stroked him slowly, savouring the weight of him, the way he twitched and throbbed against your palm.
Veritas groaned, his head falling back as he savoured your touch. "God," he breathed, his voice thick with desire. "Feels so good-”
His words sent a shiver down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock. The taste of him exploded across your tongue, salty and musky, uniquely him.
Emboldened, you took him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. He was big, filling your mouth completely, but you revelled in it. You hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head.
"Fuck," Veritas gasped, his fingers tangling in your hair. "Just like that, baby. Take me deeper."
You obeyed, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward, taking him inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, but you didn't pull away. Instead, you held him there, your nose pressed against his pelvis, breathing in his scent.
Veritas’ grip on your hair tightened, his hips rocking forward slightly. "God, sweetheart," he moaned, his voice strained. "You're incredible."
The praise washed over you, spurring you on. You bobbed your head, setting a steady rhythm as you worked him with your mouth. Your hands slid down to cup his balls, rolling them gently in your palm.
Veritas' hand cupped the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he guided you further down his shaft. "That's it, baby," he groaned, his voice rough with pleasure. "Take all of me."
You complied eagerly, relaxing your throat as you pushed forward until your nose nestled against his pelvis. The scent of him filled your senses, musky and intoxicating. You held him there, savouring the weight of him on your tongue, the way he throbbed against your palate.
"God, beautiful-" Veritas gasped, his hips rocking forward slightly. "You're so good at this. So fucking perfect."
His words sent a thrill through you, stoking the heat building in your core. You pulled back slowly, letting him slide from your mouth with a lewd pop. Strings of saliva connected your lips to his cock, glistening in the moonlight.
"Touch yourself," he commanded, his voice low and authoritative. "I want to see you get off while you suck my cock."
Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you didn't hesitate. Your hand slid beneath your skirt. You were already soaked, your panties clinging to your skin.
You circled your clit with your fingertip, gasping at the jolt of pleasure that shot through you. Ratio watched with hooded eyes, his cock twitching in your grip.
"That's it, baby," he urged, his hand guiding your head as you took him back into your mouth. "Make yourself feel good. I want to hear you moan around my cock."
You obeyed, increasing the pressure of your fingers as you sucked him deeper. Your other hand came up to fondle his balls, rolling them gently in your palm. The combined sensations were overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge with each passing second.
Veritas’ breath came in short, sharp gasps as you worked him with your mouth and hands. His cock throbbed against your tongue, the veins along the shaft pulsing with need. You could tell he was getting close, his hips rocking faster, his grip on your hair tightening.
Suddenly, he pulled you off him, his cock slipping from your lips with a wet pop. "As much as I love your mouth," he panted, his eyes dark with lust, "I need to be inside you."
You nodded eagerly, your heart racing at the thought. He helped you to your feet, his hands roaming over your curves appreciatively. With a swift motion, he pushed your skirt up around your waist and tugged your panties down your thighs.
Veritas gently pushed you back onto the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with undisguised hunger. "Always been so pretty" he murmured, his hands skimming up your thighs to your hips.
He settled between your legs, the heat of his body seeping into your skin. You could feel his cock pressing against your entrance, teasing you with the promise of what was to come. Slowly, he pushed forward, stretching you open around him.
You gasped at the sensation, your back arching off the bed. He was so big, filling you completely. He gave you a moment to adjust before starting to move, his hips rocking in a steady rhythm.
"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder.
His words sent shivers down your spine, stoking the fire building in your core. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper. He obliged, his thrusts growing harder, faster.
The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful stroke. Veritas' hands gripped your hips, his fingers leaving bruises on your skin. But you didn't mind the pain, not when pleasure was coursing through your veins like liquid fire.
Despite the intense sensations coursing through your body, you bit your lip, muffling your moans and gasps. The thought of Aventurine and Topaz hearing you in the other room was enough to keep you silent, even as Veritas’ thrusts grew harder, deeper.
He seemed to sense your restraint, his eyes locking with yours in the darkness. "Don't hold back," he whispered, his voice husky with desire. "I want to hear you.”
You shook your head, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You couldn't risk it, couldn't bear the thought of your friends walking in and catching you in such a compromising position.
Veritas frowned slightly, but he didn't push the issue. Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, swallowing your silent cries of pleasure.
His hips never stopped moving, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy through your body. You could feel your climax building, getting closer to the edge. He seemed to sense it too, his pace quickening, his breath coming in harsh pants against your ear.
"Come for me, sweetheart," he growled, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. I've got you."
His words were your undoing. With a muffled cry, you came undone, your body convulsing beneath him as you gushed around his cock. Veritas quickly pulled out, his cum shooting out and splattering on your folds.
You lay there in the aftermath, your chest heaving, your limbs trembling. He collapsed on top of you, his weight a welcome comfort.
Slowly he rolled off you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He pulled you close, your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped around your waist. You could feel his heart racing, matching the pounding of your own.
He kissed your shoulder softly. "We should probably get cleaned up and head back out there," he said, his voice tinged with reluctance. "Before Aventurine and Topaz come looking for us."
You nodded, leaning in to kiss him one last time before reluctantly pulling away from his warmth.
༉ - 2.5k
The training grounds hummed with the steady rhythm of swords meeting swords, the sharp ring of steel echoing in the air. You were lost in the rhythm, your every move precise as you worked through the drills Jing Yuan had set for you.
The weight of the training session was starting to catch up with you—your muscles burning, sweat trickling down your back—but you refused to stop. His gaze was always on you, but today, there was something about it that made your heart race a little.
Jing Yuan was a study in effortless grace, each movement fluid and controlled as he parried your strikes. His hair shimmered in the sunlight. His composure was unmatched—he never seemed to break a sweat, even when you were struggling to keep up. And yet, his every motion felt like a reminder that you still had so much to learn.
“You’re improving,” he said suddenly, his voice a smooth, unwavering contrast to the intensity of the training. He dodged your strike so easily it was as if he already knew it was coming. “But you’re still too tense. Stop thinking so much- Let your instincts take over.”
You nodded, trying to focus on his words. You couldn’t quite explain it, but his praise always felt so... personal. It was like he wasn’t just teaching you how to fight; he was seeing something deeper. And you hated how giddy that made you feel.
The practice continued, but with each passing moment, it became harder to focus. Every glance he gave you seemed to leave you a little more flustered, his every compliment a spark that made your heart flutter. You tried to shake it off, to stay in the moment, but your movements became a little less fluid.
“That’s better,” he said again, his eyes narrowing as he watched you catch your breath. “You have the power. You just need to learn to channel it.”
“Thanks,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading across your skin. It wasn’t that you weren’t good at sword fighting, but when Jing Yuan spoke to you like that, it felt different. His words were a quiet evaluation, but they made your heart feel exposed, as though he was seeing right through you.
Minutes blended together in a haze of quick movements and hurting muscles. The sweat on your forehead trickled, and you could feel the strain in your arms and legs, but you pushed yourself harder, determined not to disappoint him. Finally, when the session was over, you dropped your sword, your breathing heavy.
"That's enough for today," Jing Yuan said, his voice quiet yet imperative as he stepped toward you. His eyes roamed over you, taking in the fatigue in your eyes, the way you were trying to steady your breathing. "You have worked hard.
You managed a small smile, though the weight of the session left you feeling drained. "I'm fine," you said, though the slight tremor in your voice betrayed you. You weren't sure if you were convincing anyone, least of all him.
He studied you a moment longer, his sharp eyes picking up the subtle signs: the way you were holding your breath, the way your hands trembled ever so slightly. With a soft sigh, he leaned in closer, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. The touch was light, but it sent a ripple of warmth through you, and you couldn't quite keep the flutter from your chest.
"Let me check you over-" he said, his voice dropping an octave soft yet purposeful. "make sure you're not hurt."
The words should’ve been routine, should’ve been just another part of the training, but the closeness between you, the way his gaze lingered a little longer than usual, made everything feel different. His touch was so careful as he ran his hands over your arms, your shoulders, your ribs—light and methodical, almost as if he were memorising every detail of you. Each brush of his fingers sent sparks through your skin, and you had to force yourself to breathe normally.
“Does this hurt?” His fingers pressed against a sore spot near your ribs where you'd taken a hit earlier.
You gasped softly, the breath catching in your throat, before shaking your head. "It's a little sore.
His eyes softened, a glint of concern in them as he regarded you, yet there was something else, too-something more than mere mentorship. The air between you grew thick with unspoken tension, not exactly teacher and student, but something else entirely. His presence overwhelmed you; the way he watched you-also so intense-made it even harder to think clearly.
Before you could catch yourself, your fingers grazed his chest-just the lightest touch, but it felt like an electric jolt went through you. The space between you contracted, and the pull you'd been fighting became too much. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you were leaning in, your lips brushing against his in a fleeting, impulsive kiss.
The world seemed to stop for that second, and then Jing Yuan froze. His body stiffened, and for a second you thought you'd made a terrible mistake. But when he pulled back, his expression wasn't anger or confusion-it was soft, searching. His gaze lingered on your face, as if he were trying to understand the emotions swirling there.
You stepped backward in haste, heat flooding your face as you muttered, "I- I didn't mean-"
But before you could get the words out, his hand was cupping your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. His thumb stroked your skin with soft gentleness-a motion that made your heart thud. "Don't apologise," he said, his voice soft, low-assuring. "You don't have to be sorry."
The air between you seemed to thicken with the weight of the moment. Jing Yuan leaned in just slightly, giving you space to pull away if you wanted to, but you didn’t. You stood there, your heart racing in your chest, the tension building with each breath you took.
“I think…” he began, his voice a little quieter, “you’re not the only one who’s been holding back.”
Your breath caught in your throat. That was all he needed to say, and in that moment, the world around you seemed to fall away. The spark between you wasn’t one-sided. And maybe this was the beginning of something neither of you had expected.
Slowly, hesitantly, you reached up to cover his hand with your own, pressing it more firmly against your cheek. "Then what’s stopping us?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Jing Yuan's eyes darkened at your words, a flash of hunger in their depths. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with desire.
You nodded, your eyes locked on his, unable to look away. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."
With those words, Jing Yuan closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, desperate kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth to taste you.
You melted into him, your arms winding around his neck as you kissed him back with equal fervour. The world spun around you, your senses overwhelmed by the feel of his lips on yours, the scent of his skin, the sound of his ragged breathing.
You felt yourself being pulled into Jing Yuan's embrace, your bodies pressing together as the kiss deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his tongue exploring your mouth with a passion that left you breathless. Your fingers tangled in his hair, holding him close as you lost yourself in the sensation of his touch, his taste, his very essence.
Time seemed to stand still, the rest of the world fading away until there was nothing but the two of you, wrapped up in each other's arms. Jing Yuan's hands roamed over your back, your sides, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake. You arched into him, craving more of his touch.
Jing Yuan broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he pulled back to look at you. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was a flicker of concern there too. "We should move somewhere more private," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "There are too many prying eyes here."
You nodded, your heart still racing as you glanced around the training grounds. He was right. Anyone could stumble upon you like this, could see the way you were clinging to each other, the way your lips were swollen from his kisses. The thought sent a thrill through you, even as it filled you with a sense of urgency.
Jing Yuan took your hand, his fingers intertwined with yours as he led you away from the training grounds. You followed him willingly, your steps quick and eager, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of his touch. He led you through the winding paths of the gardens, past flowering bushes and babbling fountains, until you reached a secluded grove hidden behind a curtain of willow branches.
As soon as you were out of sight, Jing Yuan pulled you into his arms once more, his lips crashing against yours in a desperate, hungry kiss. You moaned into his mouth, your hands fisting in his hair as you kissed him back. His hands roamed over your body, slipping beneath your clothes to caress the heated skin beneath.
Your hands fumbled with the fastenings of Jing Yuan's robes, your fingers shaking with a mix of anticipation and nerves. He helped you, his own hands working to remove your clothing with a practised ease that belied his gentle touch. Soon, the fabric fell away, leaving you both bare in the dappled sunlight filtering through the willow branches.
Jing Yuan's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze appreciative as he drank in the sight of you. "You're beautiful," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. His hands skimmed over your curves, his touch leaving goosebumps in its wake.
Your fingers trailed over the hard planes of his chest, the defined muscles of his abdomen, marvelling at the feel of his skin beneath your palms.
Jing Yuan groaned at your touch, his hips pressing forward to grind against yours. You could feel his cock, hot and insistent against your stomach, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you. Your own body responded in kind, aching and throbbing with a need that was almost painful in its intensity.
His lips found your neck, his teeth nibbling, and tongue leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your pulse point. You tilted your head back, giving him better access, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you lost yourself in the sensation. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you harder against him, the friction delicious and maddening all at once.
"Jing Yuan," you gasped, your voice breathy and needy. "Please..."
His response was to lift you up, wrapping your legs around him as he carried you. Jing Yuan pressed you against the cool stone wall of the garden, his body pinning you in place as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Your legs tightened around his waist, drawing him closer, craving more of his touch.
He held you up with one arm as the other delved lower, his fingers finding your pussy. You were already wet, your body ready for him, and he groaned at the feeling. "So ready for me," he murmured, his voice rough with desire. "So perfect."
His fingers circled your clit, teasing and stroking, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. You rocked your hips against his hand, seeking more of that delicious friction. Jing Yuan obliged, his fingers sliding lower to dip inside you, stretching you, preparing you for what was to come.
You could feel him, hard and heavy, pressing against your entrance. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, your body trembling with need. "Please," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you."
Jing Yuan's eyes met yours, "I've got you," he promised, his voice low and husky. And with that, he pushed forward
Jing Yuan’s cock pushed inside you slowly, carefully, his eyes never leaving yours as he watched your face for any sign of discomfort. You could feel every inch of him as he stretched you, filled you, your body adjusting to his size. It was a delicious burn, a sweet ache that only made you want more.
"Dove," he breathed, the pet name a reverent whisper on his lips. His hips pressed forward, burying himself deeper inside you, and you couldn't hold back the moan that escaped. "So tight," he groaned, his hands gripping your hips for support. "So perfect."
You clung to him, meeting his thrusts. The pleasure was immense, overwhelming, and you could feel yourself already teetering on the edge of ecstasy. Jing Yuan's thrusts grew harder, faster, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he lost himself in the feel of you.
His thrusts grew more urgent, more demanding, as he lost himself in the heat of the moment. His hips slammed against yours, driving into you with a force that had you seeing stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, mingling with your moans and his grunts of pleasure.
Jing Yuan's lips found yours again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you harder, deeper. His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing in tight, circular motions. The added stimulation was too much, and you shattered, your orgasm crashing over you in waves of pure, blinding ecstasy.
"Atta girl," Jing Yuan growled, his voice strained with his own impending release.
Your walls clenched around him, milking his length as you rode out the aftershocks of your climax. Jing Yuan followed soon after, his hips stuttering as he found his own release. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hot against your skin as he emptied himself inside you, ropes of cum spilling inside you.
As the final waves of your shared ecstasy subsided, Jing Yuan held you close, his body still intimately connected with yours. He peppered your face with soft, tender kisses, his hands gently stroking your hair and caressing your back. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the heated passion that had just consumed you both.
"Think that was a good training session" he joked, his voice low and content.
You couldn't help but laugh, a breathless, giddy sound that bubbled up from your chest. "I think that was the best training session I've ever had," you replied, your words laced with a mix of humour and sincerity.
friends to lovers ! friends to lovers! friends to lovers !
or
bachira has been your friend since childhood, and while he cant deny his romantic feelings for you now that you were older; you certainly try to deny yours
bachira x f! reader ☆ fluff, eventual smut, eventual angst(maybe) ☆ wc: 2.9k
cw: sex jokes lol what else do college boys do
a/n: ah i had sooo much fun with this, i think when i write i try to do it in a more traditional way so it was lowkey freeing and fun to get out of my comfort zone and get a bit silly
also the frequent kunigami appearances are from my love for him as well he's my 2nd fav bllk character
also also theres a very small very unimportant reference to a song somwhere in here and im interested to see if anyone will know it
pt: 01 || ...
☆
the door to your apartment swung open with a bang, there stood meguru in the entrance, standing proudly with a plastic bag.
“oh honey i’m home!” his sing-song voice got a middle finger from you and a groan from isagi, nagi, and kunigami. the four of you were sat on the floor, table moved out of the way to make space for the project the five of you were working on.
“meguru what did i tell you about playing house in my apartment,” you said sarcastically. you weren’t upset over your friends long running joke. you were annoyed that it took him near an hour to grab supplies from a dollar store.
“you said we could only play when we were alone in your bed,” megumi gave you an animated frown, shaking his head as he closed the door behind him. your eyes bulged at his comment as kunigami choked on his water. meguru yelped as you threw a pillow at him in retaliation, ignoring your threats as he tossed the bag on the ground next to you before heading to the fridge.
“guys we’re not fucking,” you said to the three other men sitting across from you. isagi was too busy helping kunigami recover to really be listening and nagi preoccupied with whatever game he was playing on his phone.
“of course you’re not bachira is the biggest virgin i know,” nagi stated as fact, eyes never leaving his screen.
“hey!” megurus interjection from the kitchen made you laugh, only to be cut short when meguru ran to grab the pillow you previously threw at you to absolutely chuck it towards the back of your head. you shot him a mock glare before turning back to the project at hand.
“okay no more talk about megurus virginity- we need to get this done before i pass out from exhaustion,” meguru hummed in amusement, grabbing your last can of soda before presuming his spot between you and kunigami.
“well we could’ve started about three hours ago if you werent asleep,” kunigami said, shooting you an annoyed glance before rummaging through the bag meguru had tossed.
“i was tired,” you defended yourself, squinting your eyes at the orange haired man.
“yea she was tired,” meguru came to your defense, but it sounded more like he was mocking you. ignoring megurus presence all together, you open up your laptop, looking for the criteria for this obscure project.
“what even is the project anyway,” nagi spoke from behind his phone, earning alarmed stares from everyone else. it took him a minute to even notice eyes were on him, the newfound silence being what gave it away. “im just kidding,” he said in hopes of calming all of you down, even setting his phone aside to pretend he was analyzing the supplies.
“we’re doomed,” isagi said shortly, running a hand through his hair.
“why are there trojan condoms in the bag,” kunigami damn near shouted. you all turned to meguru who just sat there with a dumb smile on his face.
“i told you guys y/n said we could only play house alone in her-” you pushed your hand into his face, knocking him over. “i was joking, the condoms are for the project.” he stated simply, seemingly unbothered by the scrutinizing looks you all gave him. “what its supposed to be about human nature right? whats more human than sex?” he shrugged his shoulders, looking at you guys as if you were the weird ones for not understanding.
“we’re not using that,” isagi said quickly, shutting the idea down entirely.
“no no he’s on to something,” nagi mused, enjoying the slightly chaotic energy in the room. meguru blew a kiss at nagi, happy someone was backing him up. “i change my mind,” nagi immediately says, staring a meguru with a blank face before picking up his phone and continuing his game.
“how about we just work on it tomorrow,” you offered lightly, furrowing your brows in concern when isagi gasped as if you just suggested they sacrifice a new born baby and use that as the project.
“im not getting a zero on a fucking posterboard project by working on it last minute,” isagi murmured, snatching your laptop to look at the assignment himself.
“well we’re obviously not getting anything done now. maybe tomorrow we’ll all be a bit more… put together,” to be honest, you just didnt feel like working on it right now. your sleep schedule had gotten worse than usual and you had, no offense to them, more important things to work on. this small community project was on the bottom of your to-do list at the moment. isagi and kunigami glanced at each other wearily, seeming to be the only two people who actually cared about getting it done. “or me, nagi, and meguru each pay you 30 bucks for you guys to do it,” you took advantage of nagi’s selective listening to make that offer and was extremely relieved when meguru didnt object. “and i give you my amazon gift card and let you use my prime account to buy actual supplies,”
“okay deal,” isagi nodded, also aware of nagi not really agreeing. but since he was silent, that was complacency by default in his eyes. giving you your laptop back, isagi got up, followed by kunigami as they grabbed their stuff and the flimsy posterboard that sat empty for the last two hours.
once isagi and kunigami said their goodbyes, you got up from your spot on the floor, making your way to the kitchen with the intent of making lunch.
“honey could you be a dear and make me a sandwich,” meguru asked in a mocking tone when we saw you grab a loaf of bread.
“go fuck yourself,” you responded, searching through the fridge for anything that looked appetizing. megurus exaggerated noise of despair is what brought nagi out of his game, looking at meguru with pure judgement.
“you’re so loud,” he deadpanned, before noticing that two of his friends were no longer there.
“they left,” meguru said, completely ignoring nagis critique. nagi took that as a cue to leave considering isagi was his ride. with a quick goodbye to you and megumi, nagi was rushing out the door, trying to call isagi and praying they hadnt left him.
now it was just you and meguru, with him sitting on the floor of your living room as he watched you try to concoct a meal. you sighed from behind the kitchen island, making a mental note to remind your roomates that you guys desperately needed to go grocery shopping.
despite the banter, you had no qualms with meguru staying behind. he was your closest friend, having known him since elementary school. it was a happy accident that after being separated for years, you somehow ended up at the same college.
“stop telling people we fucked,” you said absently as you search your cabinets when you heard meguru make his way over to the kitchen.
“whats wrong with that,”
you shot him a confused look before turning back to rummage through your mostly empty cupboards.
“we havent?” your voice echoed slightly as you peered in, standing on your toes in hope a four course meal would materialize on the shelf.
“well we could change that,”
you pivoted on your heels being met with a similarly shocked face from the guy who just said those exact words. you shook your head, chalking it up to another one of his jokes.
“stop joking like that,” you pressed your hands onto the counter, desperately trying to come up with something to eat. you were starving.
“it wasnt a joke,” megurus face made it seem like he was more shocked by his response than you were. quickly turning away and trying to act busy looking for his phone, meguru left you wondering if he was telling the truth. your face grew warm as you really thought about your words. he was your childhood friend, you missed a few years of his life but it was apparent now that he’s grown up well.
fortunately, or well unfortunately for you, your stomach grumbled loud enough to get you out of your thoughts. you took it as a sign from your body to not entertain the idea of fucking your best friend any longer.
“if youre here for food im sorry to disappoint,” you were trying to cut off the last conversation, turning it to something easier to talk about.
“no i’m here for you,” he looked at you as if that much was obvious, and it was a bit disorienting. you were used to his crude humor and blunt speech but this was different. you guys were pretty comfortable in your friendship up until this point, at least thats what you thought.
“well im about to go get something to eat,” you averted his gaze, grabbing a hoodie and slipping on your shoes. meguru followed suit, a bright smile on his face as you rummaged through your pockets for your keys.
“yay dinner with the missus,” you rolled your eyes, trying to hold back a laugh as you opened the door, feeling him follow behind you.
⭑.ᐟ
2:12am kunigami !!: absolutely slumped
2:12am kunigami !!: [sent 1 attachment]
2:13am pinky boy: y/n's gonna kill you when she sees that
2:15am kunigami !!: ill survive trust
2:16am ultimate gamer: theyre def kissing on the side
⭑.ᐟ
you were knocked out on kunigamis couch, a small gathering amongst friends turned sleepover once someone(reo) brought alcohol. you were curled into the corner of the couch, a blanket drapped over you. now that alone wasnt anything out of the ordinary, not something kunigami would risk getting his eyes gouched out for a singular photo. it was the fact that your head has resting on megurus lap. his head rested on your hip at what looked like an uncomfortable angle as he slept.
there were jokes and side comments about you two secretly dating and you were always the one to deny them, meguru stepping aside and pleading the fifth every time. but the current state you were in was just another piece of evidence to confirm your friends suspicions.
the night was basically over at the point, most of the other people either leaving or grabbing blankets themselves.
what woke you up hours later was the smell of breakfast cooking. having been living off of instant ramen and takeout for the past couple weeks, the smell of a home cooked meal practically made your soul fly over to the smell like a cartoon.
your eyebrows twitched as your hangover made itself known. with a groan you shifted on the couch, for the most part remembering where you were until you realized whatever ‘pillow’ you were laying on felt weird. your eyes shot open and you were met with a calm meguru scrolling on his phone. realizing you were laying on his lap, you shot up, swirling your head as you surveyed your surroundings.
kunigami was in the kitchen, flipping something over the stove while wearing the stupid ‘kiss the chef’ apron meguru had gotten him as a gag secret santa gift. you tossed the blanket off of you, not awake enough to form words let alone coherent thoughts.
“hey im cold,” meguru said with no real annoyance as he reached over and grabbed the blanket, putting on a show as he tossed it over his legs.
“my head hurts,” you mumbled, bringing a hand up to shield your eyes from the bright light. meguru wordlessly reached for the bottle of advil on the coffee table, grabbing his water bottle you gifted him and handing you both. you mumbled a thanks, before tossing the pills into your mouth and absolutely chugging the water. your hand patted the couch cushions around you, looking for your phone.
“its charging in the kitchen,” meguru said without looking up from his own screen, earning a snicker from kunigami who watched the whole situation unfold. you wanted to shoot daggers at him via your eyes, but alas the searing pain right behind them rendered your temper useless. plus he was cooking breakfast and whether or not he was cooking just for himself, you planned to try to snag some.
getting up from the couch you felt meguru lift a hand to your hip, helping you steady yourself. its something you wouldnt normally bat an eye at, even thanking him for the help. but now that kunigami was staring at you it felt different.
averting kunigamis ever intensive gaze, you grabbed your phone from the kitchen counter. scrolling through your notifications. not much stood out and you were going to put your phone back down and let charge a little longer until meguru spoke up, much to kunigamis dismay.
he knew youd see the picture eventually but would have preferred if you werent where his knives were when you did.
“kunigami sent something funny in the group chat,”
“youre getting no pancakes,” kunigami shouted at megurus betrayal, pointing the whisk in his hand towards the giggly boy on his couch. you looked at kunigami and then meguru, and then kunigami again with raised suspicion. keeping your eyes on the orange-haired man, you unlocked your phone, scrolling through unimportant messages until you found what meguru was definitely were talking about.
there you were, napping with meguru and looking completely at peace. you felt your cheeks warm as you read the following messages, squinting at kunigami. luckily for him, you were tired and in too much pain to do anything drastic.
“i’ll give you meguru’s pancakes if you let me live,”
⭑.ᐟ
3:34pm loser </3: can i come over
3:40pm you: im out rn
3:41pm loser </3: out doing what......
3:43pm you: eating lunch with my mom
3:43pm loser </3: tell mom i said hi
3:47pm you: she said to stop bothering us while we're eating
3:48pm loser </3: UR LYING
3:48pm loser </3: ill text her and find out myself .
3:48pm loser </3: gmfu
3:49pm you: since when do you have my moms number
3:51pm you: STOP TEXTING MY MOM
⭑.ᐟ
“i swear to god if you drop anymore popcorn i will end your life,”
meguru paused as he was lifting a handful of popcorn out of the bowl, eyes flicking from yours to the ball of popcorn in his hand that was threatening to spill out between his fingers. he blinked twice before quickly shoving the kernels in his mouth, chewing obnoxious and smiling around his stuffed cheeks.
you stared at him with a glare that carried no anger before turning your attention back to the screen. you had forgotten what you were even watching, bachira having insisted on playing some obscure movie he watched a youtube essay about.
“can you make some more,” megurus voice was muffled from the sheer amount of popcorn in his mouth, but you understood when you pushed the bowl your way. you shook your head, shoving the bowl back towards him.
“you ate most of it, you can go make more,” you listened to him loudly swallow the last of the popcorn in his mouth before pouting at you.
“i dont wanna miss the movie.”
“pause it,”
“no that messes with the vibe,”
you rolled your eyes, getting up from your couch and taking the bowl from him. walking into the kitchen you grabbed a bag of popcorn and put it in the microwave, leaning over your kitchen island as you waited for it to finish.
you looked at meguru, he seemed interested in the movie, watching intently. he was pretty, you couldnt deny that. and the way the light from the tv played on his face only added to it. his hair had grown since the last time you saw him before college, the yellow tips just passing his shoulders. a wave of emotions ran through you as he laughed at whatever was happening on screen. he was so sweet, you liked being around him no matter how chaotic it was. you were comfortable around him and you wouldnt trade the relationship you had with him for anything.
the beep of your microwave and the slightly burnt smell of popcorn brought you back to the present. pouring the popcorn in the bowl, you made your way back to the couch, handing meguru the bowl and plopping back down onto the couch.
“its burnt,” meguru pointed out despite getting ready to shove another handful in his mouth. you shrugged your shoulders, grabbing a pillow and laying against the arm of the couch, curling into a ball.
“you shouldve made it then,” meguru looked at you, your eyes already back on the screen. there was a sort of airy smile on face, enjoying your time together. he wished youd lay on him instead of that godforsaken pillow, but he would take what he could get. unlike you, he had words for the feelings he had towards you. he was in love with you. and while you were adamant on denying any dating allegations he didnt let it bother him to much. when it came down to it, meguru could be satisfied with just being a friend. he wasnt selfish he’d like to think. he was grateful you liked him at all, it was no problem for him if those feelings were platonic or romantic. but a boy can dream.
i hope you enjoyed !! reblogs/comments are very appreciated <3
My name is Ahmed Jehad from Gaza, and I have a small child. Unfortunately, our house in Khan Yunis has been destroyed by the war, and we are currently experiencing difficult living conditions in a displacement tent in Deir al-Balah. We are in dire need of a safe and suitable shelter. If you want to help us, you can donate through the following fundraising campaign link: https://gofund.me/665fbb6c.
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Any donation, no matter how small, will have a huge impact on improving our situation. Thank you very much for your generosity and support.
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