#dehya x reader

round one! ꨄ︎ roses and muskets

pairing: navia/reader/clorinde

content: dom!reader, switch!navia, sub!clorinde, use of strap-ons, teasing & humiliation, clorinde is kind of a sopping wet cat, clit play, begging, petnames, whiny navia, reader tops clorinde who is topping navia (basically a reader/clorinde/navia sandwich 😋🍽️)

Clorinde knew better than anyone to never fall victim to her pride—one of the easier lessons Master Petronilla had hammered into her mind as a child. It was regarded as a deadly sin for good reason; a dangerous emotion that, more often than not, served as far greater a threat to her opponents than her sword did when dueling in the name of justice. 

If made to choose, however, she supposed it would be her discipline that she prided herself on most.

It defined the most important aspects of her life; the strict routines she maintained for her physical and mental wellbeing, her ability to guide a rowdy group of friends through the newest Tabletop Troupe script, and, most importantly, her career as a Champion Duelist. If she couldn’t trust the head on her shoulders to remain calm and unflinching even when under levels of pressure that would crush most others, then she could never be trusted to enact justice with the blade in her hand. Discipline before desire, duty before leisure, that was how she operated to keep herself running like a well-oiled meka.

Clorinde’s hands, never once faltering when they delivered swift and precise judgement, so clean in her movements that not a single splatter of blood came to stain her white gloves, now grasped at the bedsheets, clumsy and useless.

“Look at that, she’s shaking,” Navia crooned. “Is it really too much for you, Clori?”

Peering over Clorinde’s tensed shoulders, you could see Navia grinning up at you where she was sprawled out beneath the younger woman on the mattress, glossy lips curled up into a jeer that harbored just a bit more wicked intent than you were used to seeing in her sunbeam of a smile. 

Clorinde’s back muscles flexed, all the strength that rippled under her skin doing absolutely nothing to aid her as she struggled to make her hips move properly, to morph that smirk of Navia’s into an open-mouthed cry of pleasure. Her already labored breathing hitched again when she felt you lean forward from behind, your soft chest pressing against her sculpted frame in a contrast that made it infinitely more challenging for her to remain collected.

“She asked you a question, baby,” you said, taking satisfaction in the goosebumps that arose on Clorinde’s pink-dusted skin when the notes of your voice tickled her neck. Obediently, she opened her mouth to speak, only for the feeling of your strap-on sinking even deeper inside her to make anything she’d planned to say fizzle out like a pistol firing without a bullet. Navia’s giggles mixed with yours as Clorinde clamped her lips shut again, trying her hardest to muffle the whimper that rose in her throat—one that would surely earn her more ridicule.

Navia was right; she was shaking. You could see her arms quivering under her own weight each time you thrusted into her with long, deep strokes. They were so languid, casual almost, it made it all the more embarrassing that she was so heavily affected by them. The force of your hips pushing against Clorinde every time you bottomed out was the only thing that provided Navia any relief underneath the both of you, each smack of skin nudging Clorinde’s strap against her hungry walls just enough to give her a brief taste of the friction she was missing out on. 

“C’mon, Clorinde,” you urged. “Our poor baby’s dying to feel good, down there. You can do better than that, can’t you?”

You brushed the long locks of Clorinde’s hair to the side, spilling them over her shoulder in an indigo waterfall so you could press encouraging kisses to the slope of her neck. She swallowed hard, scolding herself, commanding herself to say something instead of just pushing her hips back against yours and gazing down helplessly at Navia’s pouting face. The thought of how pathetic she must’ve looked to the both of you briefly crossed her mind amidst everything else that had it spinning, making liquid shame pool in her cheeks.

“I-I—” she hissed as you grazed your teeth over her flesh without warning, dragging them along her nape in unison with the toy dragging against her walls. “Yes, I can,” she insisted breathlessly, doing her best to not let her disappointment show when you didn’t immediately fill her back up again, instead keeping only the tip of your strap inside for a torturous few seconds while she fluttered around it. An act of mercy so she could at least finish her sentence. “I’m more than capable of…I just, just need a moment to—”

A half-choked gasp interrupted her as you sank back into her pussy all at once, creating a smack so sharp that the sound alone made Navia’s toes curl with envious desire. Everything she wanted, everything she needed was unfolding right before her eyes, and she wasn’t allowed to indulge in a single drop of it. She spread her thighs wider in the sheets with the hopes of making things easier for Clorinde, blue manicured nails gripping urgently at the duelist’s hips to try and subtly guide her movements. 

You took notice of Navia’s wandering hands right away, clicking your tongue and shooting her a disapproving look from over Clorinde’s shoulder. “No helping her, Navia. She’s gotta figure this out all on her own.”

Your chiding was meant with a long, high-pitched whine that was irresistibly cute, almost enough to sway you. Regardless of the enjoyment it brought her to mess with Clorinde, Navia’s patience was slipping fast, eyebrows furrowing with frustration and hips wriggling from side to side in a desperate attempt to gain some kind of gratification from the strap that had been nestled motionless inside of her from the moment Clorinde had first bottomed out. In retrospect, it was a miracle that she’d even managed to slip the toy past Navia’s entrance in the first place when her brain was as scrambled as it currently was. 

“Not fair,” Navia protested, but despite herself, she still let her hands fall from the curve of Clorinde’s hips in defeat. A body so agile and reliable in combat, now rendered powerless under the dizzying press of warm skin enveloping her from all directions. “It’s not fair, my love. Why does Clori get all the attention? Please, I wanna feel good, too.”

“I know, baby. It’s so unfair.” Your tone was dripping with sympathy, but your thrusts continued without a care in the world, gradually picking up in speed so that whatever remained of Clorinde’s composure crumbled with each cruel glide of your hips. The ridges of your strap rolled against every velvety crevice inside her just right, barely giving her the chance to miss the sensation of being filled up before you were pushing deep inside of her again. “But it’s Clorinde’s job to make you feel good, not yours. Keep your hands to yourself.”

This time, the whines came from both of them; Clorinde’s faint and abashed, Navia’s loud and defiant. 

“But—”

“She says she can do it, right? She’s more than capable,” you echoed Clorinde’s earlier words.  A taunt disguised as unshaking faith in her abilities, just scornful enough to make her stomach tighten. “So be a good girl and wait your turn.”

“Clori,” Navia redirected her begging to the woman above her, so sickeningly sweet that Clorinde could practically taste it dissolving on her tongue like one of her sugar-packed macarons. Navia rocked her hips against the mattress in a fit of need, reaching around blindly in the bedsheets until she found Clorinde’s forearms and snaked her fingers around them. 

Clorinde shuddered as Navia gave her a squeeze of encouragement, motivating her to put all that bitter training to good use so that she could finally let Navia experience the same addicting push and pull that currently had Clorinde wrapped around your finger. “C’mon, baby. Won’t you move these pretty hips for me? Please? I need it so bad, I might lose my mind.”

“Look how cute she is like this,” you whispered in Clorinde’s ear. “Are you really gonna disappoint her? Make her cry ‘cause you can’t fuck her right?”

A weak sound erupted in Clorinde’s throat. Her ears burned red-hot; with humiliation, and with a fresh wave of arousal that she could never openly admit erupted within her whenever you spoke to her that way. To make matters worse, Navia was giving her a dispirited look from below, like she’d already long-accepted her fate, like she knew deep down that Clorinde wouldn’t be able to do it because she was too caught up in her own pleasure to carry out a task so simple. Something so selfishly unlike her.

Clorinde bunched her fists in the crumpled sheets to anchor herself, forearms flexing under Navia’s needy hands as she pulled her hips back with a shaky inhale and jerked forward—clumsy, messy, a disgrace to the sharp precision she carried moved with throughout her daily life. The mental chastisement she gave herself for such a sloppy display was quickly shut down by Navia’s immediate sigh of relief, head falling back, honey-blonde curls spilling on the pillows and pale blue nails sinking into Clorinde’s reddening flesh.

“There we go.” Your proud voice eased some of the tension in Clorinde’s body, loosening the tight seal of her lips enough to let a feather-light moan slip out when your silicone rolled against her sweet spot as a reward. The sound was gone as soon as it came, a faint rustle in the woods so different from Navia’s impassioned gasps and dramatic whines over every little touch. “Just like that, baby. I want you to make her cum for me.”

She clenched her jaw, only managing a strained nod when no response seemed to form on her tongue. Verbal expression had never exactly been her forte, anyway, especially when stuffed full of you and buried deep inside Navia like some kind of wonderfully cruel trap designed to make a fool of her.

“Yes,” Navia breathed as Clorinde repeated the action. It was another weak, erratic stroke, but she was so grateful for even the slightest hint of stimulation that she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Yes, my love. Don’t—ah—stop. M-more, more.”

Just as Clorinde at last began to build up a semi-stable pace, you quickened yours, and she wasn’t sure whether it was gratitude or dismay that burst to life in her core. 

“You hear that? She wants more,” you drawled. “Keep it up, okay, baby? Don’t let her down.”

Your mischief was practically tangible, tickling her eardrums like chimes of laughter. Sure enough, you pushed your strap flush against that bundle of nerves deep inside of her just as you grabbed a handful of her bouncing chest. She was soft and heavy in the palm of your hand, and as her flesh spilled out between your fingers, you could feel her heartbeat pulsing beneath it, giving away just how much of a wreck she really was. More like captured prey than the hunter she truly was.

Clorinde stumbled over a moan that you were certain would’ve been pure heaven if only she’d stop stifling herself, head falling forward when you rolled one of her nipples between your fingers for good measure. 

Hips stuttering with less and less control, Clorinde jerked into Navia far more forcefully than she’d intended, earning a sweet gasp from the woman below that was cut short just as soon when she realized that Clorinde had gone still in that position, once again too taken by the delightful twist and stretch in her core to focus on completing her thrusts. Navia had to stop herself from clawing at the younger woman’s arms to draw her attention back to her hungry insides, already mourning the quickly dissipating ball of pressure that Clorinde’s tentative strokes had built up. 

“No, no, no. Clorinde, baby, please,” she protested, head tossing from side to side. “Don’t stop, I’m begging you.”

Though Clorinde would redden and turn away at the mere suggestion of it, the fact was that she looked so cute like this. That ever-stoic expression of hers now painted with a desperation that softened all her stern edges, eyebrows knitted together and lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth from all her efforts to force back the noises that were getting harder to contain. 

But in Navia’s lust-clouded mind, she couldn’t fully appreciate what a delectable mess the woman above her had become like you could, not when she was such a mess herself. All she could think about were the precious, fleeting vibrations that passed from your body to Clorinde’s, and at last, to her own when you snapped your hips forward. Every ripple of pleasure that wracked Clorinde’s senses, Navia could only get the remaining scraps of.

“You were doing so well, Clori. What happened to our champion?” You squeezed gently at her chest with each hand, rhythmic movements meant to encourage her, but all they served to do was mold her like dough in your palms. Unable to hold herself up anymore, she slumped forward to all but collapse against Navia, sandwiching your hand between the plushness of both her chest and Navia’s as they pressed together. 

“I-I’m sorry.” Even when muffled by Navia’s skin, the tremble was evident as she spoke, an unmistakable strike of lightning across the perpetually calm night sky of her voice. “I…” 

I can’t. She bit back the admission, mustering just enough self-control to not utter words that would no doubt taste more bitter on her tongue than any defeat in the Court of Law. “I may be nearing my…my limit. I’m sorry.”

Despite Navia being denied her own bliss to the point of near tears, she still found it in her to rest her hand on the younger woman’s head with a soothing hum. The tips of Clorinde’s ears were burning red, now, hot humiliation coursing through her veins in place of blood. 

As Navia combed through that pale blue streak of hair that had draped over her chest like a ribbon, she lifted her gaze longingly back up to you, all blue starlight and golden lashes. And if her perfectly pitiful expression hadn’t been irresistible enough to sway you, she made sure to top it off with the sweet cream of her voice.

“You’re not gonna leave me like this, are you, my love?” she pouted, thick thighs spreading beneath Clorinde’s body to give you better access to the dripping wet parts of her, ripe for the taking after being tormented by empty promises of pleasure for so long. “I’ve been so good, haven’t I? Been on my best behavior even though Clorinde here obviously wants me to die of neglect.”

Clorinde tried to mumble something into Navia’s shoulder in her defense, only for it to taper off into a strained hiccup that did more to harm her cause than help it.

You pretended to mull it over, though you had absolutely no plans to have the night ending without both of them writhing beneath you. Navia batted her eyelashes at you, delicate wisps of sunlight filtering through Clorinde’s violet shadow, warm enough to melt away any resistance you might’ve had.

“Greedy. You’re both so greedy,” you clicked your tongue, but your hand was already sliding down from where it was wedged under Clorinde’s chest, tracing the curve of Navia’s stomach until you found those soft, slick folds. “What am I gonna do with you?”

Navia’s lip quirked. “Make me feel good?”

Your touch wandered down to where Clorinde’s strap-on was stretching her out, scooping up some of her essence that had coated the plastic and smearing it over the pads of your fingers. Before your thumb had even fully pressed against her clit, Navia let out a cry of pure relief, hips shooting up as best as they could under Clorinde’s weight.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, that’s perfect, cherie. Right there.”

“She’s soaking wet for you, and this is how you treat her?” you chided Clorinde softly, slowing down the glide of your hips to put extra focus on the poor bud throbbing beneath your fingers. “Clorinde’s so mean, isn’t she, Navia?”

“So, so mean.” Navia’s eyes squeezed shut,  nodding frantically like every touch to her aching clit sent an electric shock through her system and letting out a mewl so grateful that Clorinde couldn’t even feel any indignation over her agreeing with you so readily. Instead, Clorinde pursed her lips against Navia’s chest, pressing apologetic kisses to her flushed skin; the only consolation she could offer anymore. 

“I’ll take care of you, baby. I’ll take care of everything.”

You admired how Clorinde’s spine arched as she met the rock of your hips in earnest, a beautiful dip that you stroked with your free hand, relishing in the shudder that rippled down her frame. Now that Navia was letting out a chorus of noises loud enough for the both of them, Clorinde allowed herself a bit more leniency as well, soft, breathy moans rising in her throat with less and less restraint each time your body pressed flush against hers. 

“This is how you’re supposed to do it, Clori,” you murmured. “See? Look how good I’m making her feel.”

Clorinde made the mistake of peering up from where her face had been buried in Navia’s chest, rings of violet locking on a sight that stole the air from her lungs. Navia’s head was tossed to the side, cheeks dusted pink against her milky skin; strawberries and cream, she found herself thinking. When your thumb circled around the pretty pink pearl of Navia’s clit, her mouth fell open with a gasp so intense, you would think she’d never been touched before. 

Clorinde’s insides churned, with arousal, and with the burning guilt that told her she should’ve been the one who was capable of twisting Navia’s features into all kinds of pretty expressions like that rather than forcing you to do all the work. Forcing you to focus on someone as hopeless as her while Navia was left behind, having to beg for attention that should’ve been given to her as naturally as breathing.

Eyes squeezing shut, Navia’s hands let go of the sheets to reach out blindly, desperate for as much physical contact as she could get after being denied so long. One of her arms slung around Clorinde’s neck, pulling the woman into a messy, uncoordinated kiss, while her other hand found yours, lacing your fingers together in an iron grip as you rubbed agonizingly steady circles into her clit.

“Mmm, yes,” she slurred against Clorinde’s lips, thick with all the bottled lust that finally came pouring out of her. “Yes, yes, yes. Love it. Thank you, thank you. Don’t stop, baby, please.”

You stroked the back of Navia’s hand so gently in contrast to how your hips pistoned into Clorinde. She was whimpering low in her throat now, not a shred of pride remaining as you worked her from behind with Navia comforting her from below.

“No more stopping, my love,” you promised, a teasing edge to your voice that prickled the back of Clorinde’s neck like thorns grazing her skin in the undergrowth of a hunt. “Look at that, Clori, you ignored our baby so bad that she can’t even believe she gets to cum. Aren't you gonna apologize?”

Navia looked far too deep in her own bliss to register anything but the slick press of your thumb and the frantic heat of Clorinde’s mouth against hers, but even so, Clorinde felt compelled to obey you—to soothe her own conscience, if nothing else.

“N-Navia,” she stammered, raspy and broken, like she may very well crumble altogether if you and Navia chose not to forgive her dishonorable performance. “I’m sorry. I’ll, mmph, I’ll make it up to you. Make it up to both of you.”

You let her off easy, well aware that the matter extended far beyond just sensual teasing in Clorinde’s hyper-disciplined mind. Knowing her, she’d be far harder on herself than any “lesson” you could pretend to teach her.

“All you have to do is let go for us,” you soothed her. “Let Navia watch you fall apart, pretty girl. Make it worth it for her.”

Goosebumps rose on Clorinde’s nape where your words danced over her skin, one final command to send her over the edge. She went stiff, muscles taut and shoulders jolting as she came apart on your strap, juices dribbling out of her to coat the plastic and moans spilling from her mouth into Navia’s—for once, so unrestrained—to the point where you could hear those low, primal vocalizations even with Navia’s lips greedily swallowing them up. 

She was quick to follow, just as easily wound up by Clorinde’s pleasure as she was by her own. Plush skin melded into Clorinde’s as Navia raised her hips up off the mattress, practically grinding into your hand with quick, high-pitched little gasps and whimpers. As with everything else, she put on a show for you, big and bright and so expressive compared to the shy, subdued manner in which Clorinde came undone. 

“So pretty, you’re sooo cute Clori,” she gushed, her kisses growing sloppier and sloppier until she was more or less pecking mindlessly around the other woman’s mouth. If her tear-dotted eyes hadn’t been gazing up at you so intently, you may not have even realized that she’d redirected her babbling to you. “M feeling good, too. You’re gonna make me crazy, my love. Please, I want it. Touch me more. Want it.”

You hummed softly in reply, not daring to speak when your ears were feasting on the symphony of sounds Navia was making for you. She all but sobbed when you slid your thumb under the hood of her clit to fulfill her request, making it throb so wildly you’d think that it was crying out for release, too.

Blue eyes snapped open, glistening with tears that bejeweled her her golden lashes. The pressure of Clorinde’s body grinding back against you and the sight of Navia’s pretty face lighting up with ecstasy were enough to make that tight coil in your stomach snap wonderfully, sending trickles of slick down your thighs. Navia’s sounds eclipsed yours and Clorinde’s as she trembled in the sheets, blue nails gripping any skin he could get her hands on and thighs squeezing around you like a vice. 

You panted against Clorinde’s shoulder, skin dewy and muscles sore, but the adrenaline rush had yet to ebb for you even as both women came down from the highs you’d brought them to. A low, pleasant hum rose in Clorinde’s throat as you kissed up her neck, and, to your surprise, she turned her pink cheek aside to meet your lips with hers. Fleeting, shy, but enough for you to relish in both the taste of her lipstick and Navia’s.

Unlike the afterglow that you could practically feel radiating off of Navia’s sun-kissed skin, Clorinde’s inhibitions hardened around her again almost instantly, an armored crab retreating into its shell. Now that the flow of endorphins wasn’t clouding her judgement, you could tell that the shame was gnawing away at her even more fiercely than before, painting her face red as though she’d been sunburnt by Navia’s light. 

“Thank you…my love,” she muttered against your lips, unable to hold your stare without feeling her walls squeeze all over again. “We were a handful this time, weren’t we? How can I make it up to you?”

“You could make us some coffee,” Navia chimed in from below, eyes twinkling. “Since you’re such a pro at it these days.”

Clorinde huffed in a manner that only you and Navia ever had the privilege of bearing witness to, half-vexed, half-shy. “You’re so quick to make demands when you didn’t even do any of the work.”

Navia shot you a pleading look at that, a silent roll of persuasion to get you to back her up. “Do you have any idea how hard it was to watch the two of you having all the fun while I lay here tossed out like an overcooked macaroon? I’m exhausted.” 

“Hmm. Macarons sound nice,” you commented, flopping down next to Navia on the mattress with equal dramatic flair. She bit her lip in a panic, and you didn’t miss the uncharacteristically petty smirk that tugged at Clorinde’s mouth while watching Navia accidentally talk herself into hours of baking. “But I don’t need sugar or coffee to recharge right now.”

While Navia wasted no time nestling into you with a content (and relieved) giggle, Clorinde hesitated, eyeing you with a level of guilt that you made a mental note to readdress later. You patted the space next to you on the bed, and, reluctantly, she compromised by settling down on her side, propped up by one arm as if prepared to push herself back up to service you if you so much as hinted at it.

In truth, the last thing you needed was a pick-me-up. Every nerve in your body was still buzzing with lightning right down your fingertips, high off the exhilaration of watching not only Clorinde, but Navia melt into a puddle at your hands. You could’ve done it again and again with no regard for your personal relief. Unfortunately, Navia and Clorinde were nowhere near as greedy as you liked to pretend they were. 

It was only when the two of them curled up next to you, wrapping you in a blanket of plush skin and body heat and murmuring drowsy affections in your ears that you at last allowed yourself to melt alongside them. 

round two! ꨄ sun and moon

pairing: dehya/reader/candace

content: dom!reader, switch!candace, sub!dehya, oral (dehya & candace rec), reader sits on dehya's back while she does pushups, alcohol! (dehya is a little tipsy but still very much lucid), petnames, facesitting, praise, candace and reader spoiling dehya <3

“Sixteen.”

Dehya grunted despite her best efforts to restrain it, wobbly elbows barely managing to straighten to completion, this time. A laughable performance in comparison to the records she’d set in the past with the enthused cheers of her brigade always inflating her ego just enough to push herself past her limits. When sandwiched between you and Candace, however, all of that prestige she’d earned among her fellow Eremites was about as stable as a tumbleweed being tossed around by the winds of the Hypostyle. 

“Seventeen,” you called out.

Her brain was fuzzy at its edges, shoulders heavy with the added weight of you perched atop her back like a Rishboland Tiger lounging in a tree, surveying the lush terrain for prey. She could swear up and down that the alcohol she’d downed earlier was affecting her performance, but that wasn’t the real reason why every push-up posed such an unusual challenge for her, tonight. The entirety of The Blazing Beasts could’ve been gathered around to witness her display of strength, gleefully counting each push-up, placing bets on how far she could go and hollering at her in drunken mirth, and it still wouldn’t have had quite the same impact on her as you and Candace’s presence. Quiet, gentle attention that was somehow so unbearably distracting. 

Mustering all of her willpower, she pushed herself off the ground once again in a movement that—under normal circumstances—came so effortlessly to her she didn’t even have to think about it. But under the watchful pairs of eyes that were sizing her up, her biceps had gone soft and pliant, reduced to rose custard that you and Candace looked about ready to eat up.

Still, she persisted, for the very simple reason that she would sooner bury her head in the sand than embarrass herself in front of you two; especially after the mild bragging fest that had ensued after she’d emerged victorious in every arm-wrestling match she’d been challenged to back at the tavern, by ordinary folk and her fellow Eremites alike. Though, in her defense, it was mostly The Blazing Beasts who’d made such a show of flaunting her strength while Dehya feigned nonchalance on the sidelines, secretly allowing herself to bask in it a bit more than usual courtesy of the alcohol filling her with liquid confidence.

Core muscles clenching, she lifted your body weight along with hers, this time, with flawless form.

You whistled proudly, and something stirred in her chest—adrenaline igniting like flint against steel that suddenly had her invigorated enough to run laps around the village with both you and Candace piled on her back. 

“Eighteen.” Candace’s voice was a gentle lap of water at her senses, while yours was an energizing surge of warmth, each one taking turns to call out the next number. 

Dehya’s face, already dusted with a faint flush thanks to the buzz of intoxication in her system, began to deepen in shade. Not just from the strain of her workout, but because of the deal you and Candace had made with her prior to it. The echoes of your promise lingered in the back of her mind with every pushup, no matter how badly she tried to pretend she was above something so desperate; a taunt and an incentive, all at once. 

“She’s doing so well, isn’t she?” Candace commented, tilting Dehya’s chin up to lock those icy blue eyes with her pools of warm amber and calm cerulean. In the low light of Candace’s bedroom, Dehya’s catlike pupils had gone wide, glassy from the alcohol’s influence like the crystal clear surface of the oasis’ Amrita Pool.

Your hum of agreement sounded from above, and with a deep breath, Dehya took that as her cue to bend her elbows again, struggling to lower herself bit by bit so that she didn’t crash into the ground all at once. 

“Guess she really wants that reward.” As you spoke, you stretched luxuriously atop her back without a care in the world for how it might ruin her progress.

“C-C’mon,” she huffed, praying that neither of you would notice the droplets of sweat beginning to bead at her hairline, catching the hazy glow of candlelight that burned in the dim room. “You know this is light work for me. I could do it easily, reward or not.”

“Then making it to twenty should be no problem for our mighty Flame-Mane, yeah?” you reasoned, resting your hands on her shoulders to admire the flex of her built muscles beneath your palms.

Candace, with all the gentleness of her caress, still held Dehya’s chin firmly between her fingers, giving her no choice but to maintain eye contact as she sank down into another push-up. Dark locks of her hair kissed the ground for a fleeting moment before she lifted herself back up in one fell swoop, a speed that her body would surely punish her for later. But the murmur of awe you and Candace shared when she snapped back up so effortlessly made any future soreness more than worth it.

Candace ran her thumb along Dehya’s lips, hesitating to continue counting for just long enough to have Dehya fighting back a faint, impatient whine. 

The corner of her mouth curled up with amusement. “Nineteen.”

Dehya let out a shaky exhale, warm breath fanning out over Candace’s palm. Calloused yet soft, holding her with all the steadiness she carried her spear and all the tenderness she treated the children of Aaru Village. With an approving smile, her hand slid higher to cup the reddened apple of Dehya’s cheek, delighted by the heat emitting from it.

“That’s my girl. Just one more to go,” you urged her from above, voice dripping down her skin like rosewater, and twice as sweet. “I know you can do it, baby.”

Gritting her teeth, she tightened up her abdomen and pushed off the carpet one final time, spurred on by your encouragement that had seized her mind even more effectively than the alcohol. Her elbows straightened to perfection, lungs puffed full of air as the relief of her final pushup crashed over her. Despite that, she couldn’t help the strange disappointment she felt when you rolled off of her back, lightening her load, but taking the warm press of your body with you and leaving her aching for more.

You settled back on the carpet, admiring the dips and curves of her form just a bit longer before sliding your hand under the golden tassel that draped over her spine and giving her a pat to signal that she could relax. 

“Twenty,” you said at last. 

Her head all but collapsed into Candace’s waiting lap, plush thighs greeting her with all the comfort of her resting camp after a long day of trekking through endless dunes. Dehya’s hair splayed out in all directions across Candace’s legs and down to the carpet, threads of gold streaking those thick, silky dark waves. The mane of a lioness, indeed.

“So strong,” you marveled. “And you barely even broke a sweat. You make it look so easy, baby.”

“I bet we could have her do ten more without any trouble, too. Should we test how long she can really hold out?” Candace mused, a mischief so rare creeping into her voice that it made Dehya perk up in alarm.

Before you could get any ideas, she rolled over onto her back with the speed of someone sober and settled her head back into the pillow of Candace’s lap, smooth, dark skin carrying the scents of fragrant fruit powder and crisp, evening desert air. “H-hah. Hey now, Candace. That kinda talk doesn’t suit you.”

She’d hoped to mask her panic over the suggestion, but judging by the amused looks on you and Candace’s faces, it must’ve been read loud and clear. She was already straightforward on a normal basis, but now, with her inhibitions soaked in wine, she’d become adorably transparent. 

You ran your hands up the expanse of Dehya’s stomach with a giggle, soft tan flesh rising and falling under your touch even faster than when she’d been exerting herself. The alcohol coursing through her veins coupled with that growing pit of arousal in her core had her running so hot, all planes of addictively warm, tan skin that tightened into the outline of defined abs every time she sucked in another sharp breath.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’re gonna treat you so good for this,” you promised. “You’ve earned it.”

Dehya’s half-lidded eyes watched you in a daze as your fingers danced up the straps coiled tight around her thighs and unbuttoned her shorts. When your fingers began to slink below her waistband, the sight alone was enough to fluster her. Suddenly her eyes were flickering up to Candace instead, only for it to make matters worse when she found the woman gazing down at her with such visible fondness, thick eyelashes fanning out to look more striking than ever from this angle. Now that Dehya wasn’t pouring all of her energy into performing push-ups, she let the dizziness take over a little more, head spinning delightfully under you and Candace’s combined touches. 

“You’re both s’ beautiful,” she murmured. It slipped out before she had the chance to stop herself, but any embarrassment she might’ve felt was nothing compared to the giddy glow that flooded her chest when you and Candace broke out into shared laughter, as if she were a pet who had done something unintentionally adorable.

“Sweet girl,” you cooed. “I wonder if you can put that silver tongue to good use.” 

Candace voiced her agreement, reaching down to brush strands of brown and gold from Dehya’s wonderstruck eyes. “A pretty talker with an even prettier face, hm?”

Dehya squirmed around, clearly basking in the shower of your praises while simultaneously hoping to hide the fact that she was. “Take care not to mess up my makeup this time, then,” she huffed, just short of shy. “Since you like seein’ me all dolled up.”

“Not our fault if you start crying,” you grinned. 

It sounded like nothing more than a playful jab, but the glint in your eyes was evident enough for even her blurry vision to catch. You knew as well as she did that tears weren’t entirely out of the question, especially when her grip on her emotions was far weaker than usual, tonight. She always made sure to watch her alcohol intake—especially when Candace was around to scrutinize her like a disapproving guardian angel—but as she watched you dip your head between her bare thighs at last, she felt less grounded than ever, like she may as well have downed an entire barrel of wine at once.

Dehya pressed her lips together, wetness pooling between her legs before you’d even touched her properly. You slid one of your arms beneath her leg to prop it up on your shoulder, pressing your lips to the warm flesh of her inner thigh. It was thick and brimming with power under your mouth from years of training and carving her paths through the desert sands, but the further you inched up towards that tantalizing spot between her legs, the more that lean muscle softened out into something delicate enough to devour, plush skin that practically melted in your mouth like candied ajilenakh nuts with every wet kiss.

Unintentionally, her hips canted up just hard enough to have you digging your nails into her thighs to steady her. A raspy apology rose in her throat, barely coherent when you forced her hips down hard enough to make her breath stutter.

Thankfully, you seemed to get the message. “You worked so hard for us, huh? Ready for your reward, baby?”

Dehya swallowed, hazy eyes darting up to Candace, then back to where your face was nestled between her legs, a view that, embarrassingly enough, had throat drying up again for a good few seconds before she could respond. 

“Y’know ‘m not one to shy away from compensation,” she joked weakly.

Maybe not compensation, but she was certainly growing meek with your breath fanning out over her most intimate spots, a promising mist of what your mouth had to offer. Heart leaping in anticipation, you nosed your way into the meeting of her thighs at last, radiating heat and already dripping so eagerly for you; the nectar of a freshly opened henna berry just waiting to be lapped up. And you indulged in her as if she were the sweetest you’d ever picked. 

Dehya’s thighs tensed the moment she felt your lips brushing over her folds, and a sharp gasp ripped from her throat as your tongue darted out to give her a greeting lick, a hot wet cushion that was as relieving as it was exhilarating. You savored her essence for a moment, letting it rest and spread on your tastebuds for just long enough to earn another cute, urgent sound from her. 

Candace ran her fingers through Dehya’s hair as if soothing a fussy cat, indigo-painted nails threading through her locks and scratching tenderly at her scalp. She’d never quite gotten used to feeling of nails other than the sharp claws of her own armor braiding her hair in the morning, and each affectionate brush was like being pulled under the influence of a spell, nipping away at her sharp senses until she felt as though all the edges she’d spent years refining had gone soft. 

You allowed yourself another taste before Dehya could get too restless, tongue darting out to lick a wet stripe from her entrance to the curve beneath her clit, lasting longer than before, but still gone far too soon for her liking. Dehya jolted when you pulled away again, hips jerking forward to try and follow the heat of your mouth on instinct. 

When you chuckled at her, she let out a low whine, unconcerned with keeping up appearances any longer. It had been a losing game from the start anyway, when you and Candace were intimately familiar with this side of her—most of the time, without a drop of alcohol required to get her spread out for you to toy with like this.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you?” you mumbled between slow, deliberate licks, delighting in how obviously she throbbed when you pressed a chaste little kiss to her bud.

“More like a kitten than a lioness,” Candace cooed.

Dehya’s ears burned hot. Praise, scorn, they all sounded the same to her when spoken in those dulcet tones. She couldn’t even find it in her to pretend to be anything less than giddy as the two of you fawned over her, petting and squeezing and marveling at her body like she was the most brilliant cut of crimson Trishiraite you’d ever come across. Not just sharp angles and fierce, unbreakable rock, but smooth, beautiful, precious. Everything she longed for when the ache from carrying her greatsword became too much.

Grabbing hungry handfuls of her thighs, you pulled her closer and flattened your tongue against her cunt in full, letting your saliva mix with her wetness to form a sinful cocktail that she could feel dripping down her skin. It tickled her nerve endings and coated her inner thighs with a pretty sheen that made her look utterly delectable, and you made sure not waste a single drop, making quick work of lapping up the rivulets that escaped your lips like you’d been deprived of anything to drink for days. 

“Fuck,” she breathed. “O-oh, please.”

With your mouth occupied, Candace stepped in, swooping Dehya’s bangs gently to the side to help cool her burning face. “Is she making you feel good, Dehya?”

Ice-blue eyes squeezed shut, a choked sound spilling from her mouth as you gave up entirely on teasing her and began licking with more vigor, tensing the muscle of your tongue to swirl dizzying patterns into her wet heat. Dehya could barely manage a frantic nod in reply to Candace as her hands flew to grasp at your head, unsure whether she was trying to pull you even deeper into her, or anchor herself before the pleasure swept her away altogether.

“Yeah, mmm, s’good,” she slurred. “I need—ah—needed this real bad. More, baby, please.”

“Oh? Did you hear that, my love?” Candace beckoned your attention, and the smile you caught on her face when you glanced up at her was so tender, it made your heart beat a little faster. To know that you were being watched by such an angelic face while drowning yours in filth. “She wants more already.”

You purred into Dehya’s folds, and the vibration jolted through her senses like heat lightning crackling across the arid desert sky. Her back arched as your voice rumbled through her senses, stomach muscles contracting to form a gorgeous ridge, like stepping stones leading up to where her chest threatened to spill out from the confines of her loosened top.

Unable to help yourself, you slid your palms up from her thighs to drag your nails over her hipbones, leaving trails that quickly reddened over her tan skin as you raked up the inviting curve of her stomach. A surprised mewl formed in Dehya’s throat, one that you almost missed when the meat of her thighs squeezed down on your ears the instant your hands weren’t there to hold them apart anymore. 

You and Candace shared a giggle again, and though you didn’t mind being trapped between her warm muscles with your mouth latched on to the pulsing blossom of her cunt, you forced yourself to pry them apart again so you could angle your head to get a taste of every last inch of her. 

“Is this really the same girl who was beating all those Eremites in arm wrestling matches an hour ago?” Candace crooned.

You weren’t sure which thrilled you more, that delicious, condescending edge that her syrupy-sweet voice had crystallized into, or the adorable grumble that left Dehya’s lips in protest, a half-hearted attempt at defending herself that was made all the less convincing with how she began to squirm under all the hands roaming over her body.

“Wonder what they’d all think seeing her like this,” you grinned, peering up at Dehya’s panting face, cheeks dusted like she’d applied a fresh layer of blush and kohl beginning to smudge around her eyes. “Poor baby’s had one too many to drink. Might as well take care of her ‘til she can think again.”

Dehya tried again to stammer out an objection, to insist that a couple of pints was laughable for someone of her tolerance, but the plush ring of your lips wrapped directly around her clit mid-sentence, morphing what she’d planned to say into a shuddering moan. Her head collapsed to the side, right into the cradle of Candace’s gentle palm like hot iron falling into a soothing pool of water. erupting into a cloud of steam that only fogged her brain up even further.

You dove your tongue into her core, feeling her walls clench around you in a frenzy before pulling back out with a fresh glaze of wetness spilling down your chin. “Messy, messy girl,” you mumbled, savoring every bit of her essence with loud laps that had even Candace’s spine tingling. “Does it make you this wet to show off for us?”

“Hah. No fair. Y-you,” she sank her teeth into her lower lip, determined not to trip over her words this time. “Y’told me to. Don’t play dirty.”

“Seems that playing dirty is exactly what you want us to do,” Candace murmured, still wrapped in that distinct coating of sweetness that effectively quelled Dehya’s will to argue back. “Look at that. You’ve completely soaked her face with your mess.”

Dehya made a little grunt of frustration, but her hips did her no favors as they chased after the slick of your mouth each time you pulled away. Your scalp began to sting from the claws of her gauntlet grazing it, practically kneading at your head and sending delightful little pulses all throughout your nerve-endings. Dehya knew her own strength, and she was always acutely conscious of it when handling you and Candace; that was precisely why getting her like this—drunk on both wine and pleasure to the point where her instincts started to take over—gratified you like nothing else.

The more you indulged in the juices bathing your tongue, the more she spilled out for you like a fresh spring. Greedily, you pressed your thumbs against her lips to spread them just wide enough for her to choke out your name, giving you a full view of how her walls pulsed for you before you dragged your tongue along every soft crevice and fold that you hadn’t been able to reach before.

“Fuck, f-fuck, baby. You’re gonna make me…mmph! Wait, Candace.” Amidst her drunken babbling, Dehya rasped out for the woman above her suddenly, tinged with a whine that was impossible to resist, even for someone of Candace’s resolve. “C…Candace…feel good”

“I know, my love. I know,” she whispered back, brushing through the mane of gold and brown spread out in her lap as if admiring hand-woven fabrics on display at the market. “She’s treating you so well, just like you deserve. Are you gonna cum for us?”

“Mmm, y-yeah. No, I mean…‘s not…I-I mean. Want you to feel good too.”

You rumbled out a song of approval, mouth still suctioned around her clit and making her gasp out with more force than she ever gave her enemies the satisfaction of hearing in the heat of battle. “Good girl,” you praised, pulling off of her with a pleased pop of your lips, as if her swollen bud were your favorite flavor of yalda candy. “How cute is she, Candace? She’s barely in her right mind and still thinking of you. Why don’t you let her make you feel good?”

Candace took her lower lip into her mouth, completely taken aback by the spotlight being turned on her in the blink of an eye. “I…yes, but who will look after Dehya?”

“She seems perfectly content to me,” you pointed out, resting your cheek on the flesh of her thigh and trying not to smirk when it earned another impatient huff from the woman in question. Then—with a trace of mischief—you added, “Unless you don’t trust me to take care of her?”

A flicker of embarrassment crossed over Candace’s face, no doubt catching on to your implication of how overprotective she could be when it came to—well, anything she was sworn to protect—but Dehya especially. Even when armed with the blessing of Shesepankh and a claymore that could shatter bones, Candace was always a few steps away from Dehya like the moon reflecting the sun’s light, shield and spear in hand should the lioness ever need an extra pair of fangs.

“Please,” Dehya chimed in. “C’mere Candace, please? Wanna taste you, get all the leftover wine out my mouth.”

“Oh?” Candace replied flatly, but it wasn’t lost on you how the translucent fabric adorning her thighs rubbed together with a very obvious desire. “With how eagerly you were swallowing down each cup, I’m certain you were quite fond of its flavor.”

“Like yours more.”

Slurred, cheeky, but irresistibly charming. Candace’s eyes darted away at that, no response coming to her other than a quiet, flustered cough.

“Let’s give our pretty girl what she wants,” you urged her gently. “We promised to spoil her, yeah?”

There was an adorable sort of disconnect written all over her face, made all the more pleasing by how rare it was for the woman so many saw as the village’s reliable guardian. It made you soften—how utterly perplexed Candace was, how out of her element she became by the idea of her own needs being met, for once. 

“Plus,” you drawled. “You’d make for a real pretty view for me.”

This time, her demeanor crumbled fully, a deep tinge painting her skin reminiscent of the brilliant red that streaked across the desert sky when the sun and moon crossed paths at dusk. Despite the plethora of excuses Candace always seemed to have prepared for moments like these, your very intentional phrasing had worked like a charm. If you could convince her it was all for Dehya’s sake, all to fulfill your wishes, then you could trick her into allowing herself some leniency, even if for just one night.

“You two…” She shook her head, intending for her sigh to sound exasperated, but it came out notably winded instead, like the very prospect of receiving pleasure already had her short of breath. “You’re trouble.”

Dehya’s eyes gleamed, the sopping wet mess of her own cunt forgotten for a moment as Candace took the forefront of her muddled mind. The two of you watched, mesmerized, as she hesitantly slipped her shorts and underwear off to expose her bare form, nothing but her brilliant gold ornaments and silver moonlight adorning her dark skin. Her headpiece could have passed for a halo with the way the dancing candle flames illuminated it, a fitting visual for her, you mused. 

“Can’t believe you were trying to hide all this from us,” you marveled. “You’d better treat her right, okay, Dehya?”

She didn’t need to be told twice—or, even once, for that matter. Lips reddened with gloss and wine parted before the woman above her had even spread her legs, and you could’ve sworn you heard Candace’s inhale catch in her throat. Unlike Dehya, you didn’t have the excuse of alcohol emboldening you, but you admired Candace’s body shamelessly all the same, eyes raking over the full curve of her chest as her top came loose and the dip in her waist that widened into smooth hips as she at last came to hover above Dehya’s waiting mouth.

“Gonna make her feel good,” Dehya barely mumbled out the promise before lifting her head to close the distance between her and Candace’s heat. Just one drag of her tongue had Candace gritting her teeth, and when one of Dehya’s strong arms slipped from your head to pull her further down, you knew that she was in good hands. 

You buried your face back between Dehya’s thighs as encouragement, rubbing dizzying circles into her flesh with your thumbs as you made quick work of gathering up the thick pool of arousal that had seeped out of her in the short time you’d pulled away. Her clit throbbed like a heartbeat under your tongue when you teased the skin around it, begging you not to leave her neglected again, and when you enveloped it completely with your mouth, you could hear Dehya’s sharp moan clear as day, even with her nestled so deep into Candace that she may very well not be able to breathe.

In contrast to how far gone Dehya was, Candace had a harder time allowing herself to slip. Every graceful slope of her body oddly stiff with abashment—arms crossed modestly over her body, hips wiggling with the reflexive urge to pull away from something so hedonistic, and cascading locks of indigo purposely draped in a manner so that they covered up her chest. 

As endearing as it was, how indecent she seemed to find her own pursuit of pleasure, you made it your personal mission to have her every bit as blissed out as Dehya. You paused your rhythmic suckling around her clit to catch her attention, draping your hand over the one that was still tangled in your hair and guiding her to move it higher. 

“S’ no good. She’s still holding out on us,” you frowned, a slippery curve of your lips that Dehya could feel molding against her sensitive skin. “C’mon Dehya, work a little harder, baby. Make her let go.”

Obediently, Dehya’s other hand was on Candace in an instant, fingers curling around her hips to physically pull her out of her own head and down against Dehya’s with not a single inch of space left between them. Candace’s high-pitched moan had you cursing every second you’d spent letting her stand by without a drop of enjoyment for herself, regardless of how much it fulfilled her simply to watch. You could tell that even she was shocked by her own reaction, one palm flying up to clasp over her mouth, while the other fell to grasp at Dehya, feeling around for something to steady herself with before settling for a handful of her chest. 

The bedroom was full of wet smacking sounds and moans that increased by the second, Dehya’s needy, drunken ones mixing with Candace’s sickeningly sweet ones to form a symphony that, coupled with the view of Candace writhing on Dehya’s mouth, could’ve been enough to get you off without a single touch. Your underwear was distractingly damp against your skin, every bit as sticky and hot as the pools and pools of nectar Dehya filled your mouth with.

“Good girl, Dehya, ah. You’re too…t-too good at this,” Candace panted, blue nails digging into her own cheek as she tried desperately to suppress the indecent noises rising in her throat.

“M-mmm. Taste amazin’, feel amazin’,” she drooled out between licks, borderline incoherent, but still enough to have Candace’s thighs squeezing around her head. “S’good. More, wanna taste all of you.”

The leg that you had propped up on your shoulder was practically thrashing by now, and when Dehya’s calf curled weakly around your shoulders in an uncoordinated attempt to pull you closer to her, you knew that she was nearing her limit. It was exactly how you liked her; pampered to a degree where her muscles were just an accessory, no need for strength or force, allowing you to mold her body in whichever way you saw fit. 

Candace lurched forward, arms beginning to tremble and eyes snapping open to search for you in a panic. It gave you a bit of a power rush, knowing what she was seeking from you. 

“It’s too much, my love. I’m not…ah! Not used to—” Her teeth sank into her swollen bottom limp mid-warning, unable to fight back another gasp that Dehya’s tongue was so hellbent on coaxing out of her. “I’m afraid I might…”

This time, she trailed off on her own accord, gold and blue irises darting away from you in shame. Dehya nearly keened when you pulled off of her just seconds before she came undone, hips bucking wildly when you tried to soothe her wriggling with a long, languid lick.

“It’s okay, baby.” As gently as you could, you reached out to rest your hand over Candace’s where it clung to Dehya’s chest for purchase. “See how hard Dehya’s trying to make you feel good? Let it all out for us. I wanna see her pretty face covered in your cum.”

Candace’s face heated up furiously at that, head darting away to press her flushed cheek into her shoulder. If you hadn’t been so eager to latch your mouth back on to Dehya, you would’ve teased her for it just to get her squirming around even more on the makeshift throne of Dehya’s face.

Your words seemed to be the final push needed to send both of them over the edge, because all it took was a few sloppy strokes of your tongue around Dehya’s clit to have her creaming on it. A drawn-out moan that you hadn’t even intended to make reverberated through your throat, but it paled in comparison to the sounds bursting to life between the two women above you. You rested a palm on Dehya’s stomach as her climax had her back surging up off the carpet, feeling her lungs expand under your touch as she let out cute, shallow little pants into Candace’s heat that amplified the intensity of her high. 

Candace finally gave up on covering any part of herself, now pawing helplessly at the softness of Dehya’s breasts as she tossed her head to the side, body forming an arch to match the crescents that decorated her attire as she came apart on Dehya’s mouth. Her thighs were shaking from the sheer force of the release she’d denied herself for so long, even Dehya’s firm grip on her couldn’t control the pleasure-drunk grind of her hips—a depravity she’d surely scold herself for later. 

By the time Dehya’s high had ebbed, you couldn’t keep up with the wetness dripping down your chin anymore, nor could you free yourself from the way her thighs kept you trapped between them, practically tempting you to keep lapping away until she was sent into a fit of overstimulation. She and Candace had barely caught their breath before you noticed Candace’s half-lidded eyes go wide, and, with a clumsiness so unbecoming of her, she slid off of Dehya’s face to fret over her with a series of breathless questions, clearly appalled by her own lack of composure.

“Relaaax, Candace. ‘S fine, I’m fine,” Dehya puffed out a light giggle. “Just…both of you, c’mere. Please?”

You gave her thighs a squeeze, and despite her exhaustion, she jumped a bit. “Gotta free me from your clutches first, wildcat.” 

With an embarrassed cough, the warm weight of Dehya’s thighs un-snaked from around your head so that you could crawl over to get a proper look at her and Candace. Between the burning skin, tousled hair, and cloudy, unfocused eyes, all three of you looked far more intoxicated than Lambard’s Tavern could ever leave you feeling. 

Candace gave you a soft smile when you met her gaze, already taking it upon herself to wipe Dehya’s face clean from all her juices with a cloth from her coffee table, but not before you caught a glimpse of those pretty features of hers ruined to perfection, just like you’d hoped to see. Dehya nuzzled into your hand as you pet her head, still not through basking in you and Candace’s shared attention.

“How was your reward, pretty girl?” 

“This is my reward.” She let out an airy sigh, and you might’ve brushed it off as simple flattery if you hadn’t known her any better. 

The three of you could’ve remained at the tavern until sunrise, watching Dehya run through glass after glass until she collapsed unconscious into your arms, but no amount of alcohol could compare to how drunk she got on you.

round three! ꨄ︎ frost and crimson

pairing: arlecchino/reader/columbina

content: dom!reader, switch!columbina, sub!arlecchino, fingering (columbina rec.), oral (reader rec.), petplay, arle is collared & leashed, some degradation/humiliation, bondage, slight objectification, basically reader & bina bully arlecchino a bit lol

The night was shrouded in a pale haze of moonlight and illuminated amber by the hearth’s flickering glow; a clash of frost and crimson reminiscent of the pair of women sitting before you. 

Fingers that were only delicate enough to belong to one pranced up the grays and whites of Arlecchino’s suit, occasionally stopping to prod at her with the hopes of eliciting some sort of reaction, only for that same calm, faintly amused expression to persist on The Knave’s face. 

From where you observed them in your chair, the image of a wolf and a rabbit came to mind; only in this case, the rabbit had taken up the role of predator, toying gleefully with her meal before at last being given permission by you to tear into it. 

Columbina’s nails lingered over the broach pinned to Arlecchino’s collar, tracing over its sharp edges with a quiet desire that wasn’t lost on Arlecchino. So, those scarred, lightless pupils of hers flickered up to you, relaying the question that was on Columbina's mind with a simple arch of her eyebrow.

“Go ahead, Bina,” you told her softly. “It won’t make much of a difference, though. We’re not touching her, tonight.”

“I simply wish to see,” Columbina replied.

Arlecchino remained perfectly still, breaths unwavering as Columbiina’s lithe fingers removed her death-eyed ornament and began popping open the buttons of her jacket, just low enough until her cleavage was exposed, peeking out through the black sheer of her undershirt. 

“What an honor, for the Moon Goddess to find me a sight worthy of opening her eyes for.”

Behind the lace of her mask, Columbina’s lashes remained sealed shut, but the smile that played at her lips told you that she was keenly aware of every detail in the room, right down to the flames crackling to life under Arlecchino’s skin. She took the liberty of undoing a few more buttons so that Arlecchino’s suit jacket came completely loose, white cloth slipping down her toned shoulders and draping over the curve of her waist. 

Still, the woman was unperturbed, jaw tilted upwards, spine straightened with a level of discipline that was almost unnerving—largely because of how it defined her capacity for cruelty just as much as her obedience.

“You seem awfully uninterested, Arlecchino,” you noted. “Somewhere else you’d rather be?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” she replied evenly. “But I wasn’t aware that self-expression was necessary for a mere tool such as myself.”

“Tool is a bit too harsh, don’t you think?” you feigned offense, leaning forward in your chair and resting your cheek in the cradle of your palm. “We have much more fun with you than that. You’re more like a toy. Or a pet.”

Arlecchino’s eyes glinted, flint igniting against the obsidian of her irises to create a momentary spark. Not the red of danger, but the red of lust—though, in her case, they could be one and the same. Just as the words had left your mouth, Columbina’s index finger, which had been gliding absentmindedly along the dog collar she’d attached to Arlecchino's throat, slid beneath the leather and snapped it back against her skin, just forceful enough to create a dull smack. 

Arlecchino hardly made a sound, but her teeth clenched just enough to make her jaw flex, as though restraining an instinctive snap of her canines. Those crimson crosses at last broke eye contact with you to fixate on the deceptively innocent face of her assailant. Even so, there was no ill-intent in Arlecchino’s gaze, no indignation, just a quiet curiosity. To see what the pair of you might do to her when she presented herself as an offering.

“Play nice, Bina,” you warned her, though it hardly read as sincere when the notes of amusement were evident in your voice. If Columbina could read between the lines as effortlessly as Arlecchino could, she may even take it as you actively encouraging her behavior.

Instead, she hummed in acknowledgement, docile as ever despite her being somewhat unsatisfied with Arlecchino’s reaction; or lack thereof. Then, as if in apology, she ran her soothing touch down Arlecchino’s arm muscles until she reached the soot-black of her hands. They were warm, buzzing with perpetual heat that reminded her of firewood that had long been burnt to charcoal on a winter night.  

Columbina lifted one of Arlecchino’s ashen hands and brought it to her pale pink lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it with the very same chivalry The Knave always extended towards her.

“You’ll be a good dog, won’t you?” she whispered into her skin.

“A dog is only as obedient as their owner trains them to be.” 

A vapid threat, but enough to maintain some semblance of poise, at least. You leaned forward in your seat, looking oddly pleased with Arlecchino’s response. “Let’s put those claws away, then. Just in case.”

The ribbon coiled around Columbina’s calf slipped down her skin like freshly fallen snow as she undid the bow holding it together and pulled Arlecchino’s arms behind her back. She put up no resistance as she was bound, even when Columbina purposely pressed her knee into the space between her thighs as she leaned over Arlecchino’s shoulder to tie her wrists together.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Columbina?”

“I can sense your heart racing,” she commented. A non-answer typical of her, but enough for the both of you to gather that yes, she was very much enjoying herself.

Arlecchino’s mouth twitched at its corner. You knew just as well as she did that the white silk binding her arms behind her back could’ve been reduced to dust in the blink of an eye had she not been fully, unwaveringly invested in the role you’d assigned her. 

“This defeats the purpose, does it not?” She lifted her gaze back to you, and the view of her from above—arms restrained, neck collared and leashed, and head tilted inquisitively in search of an answer—almost made her appear harmless. Almost like the loyal, obedient dog she was meant to embody for you, tonight. “How am I meant to please you if I’m completely bound?”

“The purpose is to see how well you can behave,” you reminded her. Cheek resting lazily in your palm as though you were watching a Korolevskiy Troupe performance of little interest, you beckoned Columbina over, legs spreading to make room for her in your lap. 

She complied immediately, rising from her spot on the floor with all the grace of smoke wisps dancing in the sky, tugging on Arlecchino’s leash to drag her along towards you. Compared to the melodic chimes of her footsteps, Arlecchino followed behind in a far less elegant manner, forced to shuffle against the wooden floor on her knees with as much dignity as she could retain, head ducked and eyes obscured by a curtain of black and white hair.

They settled before you, Arlecchino kneeling between your spread legs, and Columbina floating down like petals of a Moon-Prayer Blossom to land in your lap. You rested your chin on the slender slope of her shoulder as she molded her spine against the softness of your chest, peering down at the woman at your feet together. Without needing to be told, or, perhaps acting on her own desire, Columbina wrapped the leash once around her palm and gave it a harsh tug, forcing Arlecchino to lift her head entirely. 

Just as those dead eyes came into view, Columbina opened hers, a milky starlit sky meeting the fallen shadow of the crimson moon. Her lashes fluttered as she adjusted to the low, sultry lighting in the bedroom, and together, you took a moment to appreciate Arlecchino in her full glory, without any thick coats or imposing, folded arms to cover up her chest spilling from her bra beneath the torn sheer. It was a sight that few would ever dare to imagine, let alone hope to see in their lifetime, and yet all it took was a simple order from you to achieve.

Maintaining eye contact with her, you pressed your lips to Columbina’s shoulder, letting a sweet sound of approval vibrate against her skin when she tilted her head for you, locks sweeping like a dark tide to invite you to mark the expanse of her neck.

“Do you like what you see, Bina?” you asked between pecks.

She hummed absentmindedly, but her bare foot reached out to dip beneath Arlecchino’s chin, delighted when her head moved obediently along with the feather-light push of Columbina’s toes. As if examining a precious relic in the light, she tilted Arlecchino’s sharp jaw from one side to the other without a shred of resistance.

“Hmm. It’s a shame she can only watch us.”

Arlecchino’s fingers flexed in their bindings, claws itching to feel flesh beneath them.

“Would you rather take her place? You’d make a pretty pet, too, little dove.”

Columbina pondered this for a moment, her resolve ultimately waning as the warm sensation of your kisses blossomed up her throat, sealing her in place with ease. “No,” she decided, the beginnings of a smile creeping into her voice. “It’s quite refreshing, looking down at her like this.”

It was difficult for either of you to gauge whether she was taunting Arlecchino, or making an innocuous statement about how she typically loomed over most others—though, you wouldn’t be surprised if that ambiguity had been Columbina’s exact intent. Your lips imprinted a smirk into her porcelain skin. “Hear that, Arle? You’d better not disappoint her.”

Arlecchino’s throat felt oddly dry as she watched your fingers dip beneath the billowing fabric of Columbina’s dress to cup her underwear, a soft mound emitting so much warmth in comparison to the rest of her body, cooled by the waves of moonlight perpetually radiating off of her. 

She opened her mouth to respond, barely clearing her throat in time to avoid a crack that would have been nothing less than damning. 

“That’d be a more viable command had I been tasked with anything to begin with.”

“Watch,” you said simply. 

Columbina’s breath came out shaky as you dove beneath the waistband of her undergarments at last, fingers dragging over her folds in a manner that was almost noncommittal until you reached the tiny pool of her essence that had begun to gather at her slit. Far more excited than that ethereal face of hers would ever let you know.

“You’re wet? I’ve barely even touched you, Bina.” You nibbled at her earlobe, rolling the tender flesh between your teeth and relishing in the quiet shudder of her fragile frame. “You really like having her on a leash, don’t you?”

Her half-giggle was confirmation enough, wispy and musical and morphing into a sudden gasp when you spread the slick on your fingers up to her clit, coating her with the evidence of her own arousal. 

On the surface, it appeared that you were the ones putting on a show for Arlecchino, but the way your clinical gaze remained locked on her even as you toyed with Columbina’s body, the way Columbina’s eyes refused to squeeze fully shut even as that familiar, far-off look began to glaze them over, told her that she was very much the real source of entertainment here. She wasn’t sure which had her insides stirring more—the sweet sounds your hands coaxed out of Columbina, or the knowledge that she could provide this much gratification simply by kneeling before you. 

“Have you thought about this often?” you teased the woman in your arms, circling under the hood of her clit just slowly enough to keep her relief limited to tiny, fleeting jolts that left her craving more. She nearly found herself pouting in frustration, but oddly enough, being denied the needs that had always been so easily fulfilled for her all her life thrilled her more than anything else could. “Seeing Arlecchino look so pathetic? Watching us like a dog begging at the dinner table while I play with you in front of her?”

Columbina’s spine jolted delightfully, a pulse of kuuvahki rippling through her veins and causing her to yank at Arlecchino’s leash especially hard. Said woman blamed the low growl she let out on how sudden the force had snaked around her throat, but you knew as well as she did that your words had fulfilled their purpose of feeding into the spark in her chest with the hopes of igniting a wildfire. 

In truth, Arlecchino looked far from pathetic to a point that was admittedly impressive, but Columbina’s reaction to your taunts had been enough to make her unreadable expression falter at last. The knit of her eyebrows, however slight, made your core positively coil with satisfaction. 

“You’re so cute, Bina,” you murmured, drawing out the glide of your hands just slow enough to earn a sweet, needy whimper from her. “And all mine tonight, yeah?”

Pushing the dainty fabric of her underwear to the side, you gave Arlecchino a perfect view of Columbina squeezing tight around you the instant you pushed your finger past her entrance, like her body was claiming you as hers just as you claimed her as yours. The silk of her walls wrapped around you like a pretty pink ring adorning your finger, eagerly swallowing you up all the way in one fell swoop.

Columbina sighed as you nestled as deep inside of her as you could go, engulfed to the last knuckle and palm flattening against her clit. You remained motionless as you watched her rock shamelessly into your touch, accepting an offering that, for once, she knew held no unspoken condition of reciprocity. And yet, she still wished to give back.

“Yours,” she breathed out at last, a dreamy smile playing at the crescent of her lips. 

Arlecchino felt as though a spider were crawling its way up her spine, each wet plunge of your finger and angelic moan that it earned from Columbina pricking at her nerve endings like tiny claws. Despite her self-control keeping her perfectly bound in place, another tug at her leash from Columbina forced her to lurch forward unexpectedly, face to face with a sight that had her mouth watering like a wolf catching the scent of freshly spilled blood.

“Another,” Columbina pleaded, arching forward to press the swell of her clit harder against your palm. “Ah. Please?”

You hummed playfully. “Already?”

“Mmm. I can handle it. I always take you well, don’t I?” Her head tipped back against your shoulder, but under the fan of her dark lashes, her eyes continued to observe The Knave with unsettling calm, the same way the full moon gazed down passively on the world regardless of what state it was in. “B-besides, hah, look. Our puppy’s watching with great interest. Won’t you show her how it’s done?”

Your heart leapt in your chest, partially out of shock, and partially due to Arlecchino’s reaction. She shifted, a movement that she probably hoped to pass off as simply adjusting her position, but you didn’t miss the subtle press of her thighs together. Oh. 

Columbina may very well be the only person in Teyvat who could get away with referring to Arlecchino in such a manner— a fact that she was just as acutely aware of as you, if the smug lilt in her tone was any indication. Spine tingling, you began to get the feeling that all three of you had taken far more of a liking to this dynamic than ever expected.

So, you complied with her wish. Her walls were so soft around your fingers, squeezing and wrapping around them so delicately like gentle kisses, fragile as the beat of dove wings. Your fingertips brushed against those velvety ridges inside of her, and a sweet gasp spilled from her berry-tinted lips, noticeably more reactive than usual. 

There was no doubt in your mind that she was exaggerating her reactions just as a way to rile Arlecchino up—a mischief that would have seemed unheard of for the Moon Goddess had you not known her any better. Arlecchino surely saw through her intentions as well, but they still had the desired effect regardless. Her lips had pressed together into a tight red line akin to the webs she wove with her crimson bloodfire, only this time, she was the one caught. 

Columbina’s back arched off your chest when your palm pushed down on her clit in an especially deep thrust, ribs protruding against her skin like the strings of a harp. “That’s my girl. You always grip me so tight, no matter how many times I stretch you out,” you crooned, pressing your free hand against her stomach with the hopes of steadying her in your lap. “You were made for my fingers, yeah?”

Columbina shuddered. She still hadn’t grown accustomed to it—praise borne from intimacy rather than worship, praise that filled her insides with a warm glow of familiarity rather than isolating her onto a far away pedestal carved of frigid ore. The novelty would never wear off for her; not after centuries of enduring hollow reverence. 

“Mhm. I told you, I always do a good job taking everything you give me,” she sighed. “Feels…right. My body isn’t suited for anyone else.”

You agreed with a knowing murmur, tracing your hand up and down the smooth, milky expanse of her stomach while your fingers sank in and out of her like tides guided by the moon, lapping lazily at the shore.

“Do you wish it was you inside of her, Arlecchino? Feeling how wet and soft she is around those brutish claws of yours?”

Columbina tilted her head down with a quirk of her lips, sharing your view of Arlecchino’s ravenous gaze as she squeezed sinfully around you, just to add a bit more fuel to The Knave’s undying fire. However cold and unfeeling Arlecchino made herself, you knew that Columbina could sense the undercurrents of her true emotions behind that veil of smoke that rose from her charred skin. 

She swallowed. “Am I allowed to wish for such a thing?”

“Of course you are, baby,” you said, and when she was this deprived, the term of endearment stirred her arousal the same way a physical touch would. “But you’ll never get it. A little dove like her needs to be treated with gentle hands.”

Columbina could sense the hot ripple of desire passing through Arlecchino’s skin—her composure was slipping, even if only the slightest bit.

It could be interpreted as an act of mercy, but truly, all Columbina wanted was to have a bit more fun. She angled her head towards you with a sigh, that mischievous, crescent moon smile appearing on her lips again as she whispered something in your ear. Arlecchino feigned disinterest in a manner that was second nature to her, but her eyes didn’t dare blink while the two of you engaged in a hushed conversation, as if she were physically trying to visualize the words spilling between your lips.

“Do I have your permission?” Columbina tilted her head.

“A goddess like you doesn’t need to ask for authority, does she?”

The goddess in question frowned at that, clearly unsatisfied that you hadn’t played along, especially when a deity was the last thing she wanted to be to you when draped over your lap with your fingers buried inside of her. So, with an apologetic giggle, you placed your hand over hers where Arlecchino’s leash was wrapped firmly around it and encouraged her to tug again.

“Alright, angel, have your fun.”

Columbina did exactly that. The moonlight illuminated her form to make her look every bit as angelic as you’d suggested while her actions were anything but. She reached out to card through Arlecchino’s two-toned hair, tender for just a split second before grabbing a small fistful and yanking her forward so that her head was pulled into the waiting space between your thighs. All that escaped Arlecchino was a low grunt of surprise, but it was enough to have your core pulsing with desire, both over Columbina’s unusual harshness and Arlecchino letting her have her way.

“That’s it. Control her for me, okay, Bina? Do that, and I’ll make you feel so good.”

To solidify the promise, your fingers curled inside the plush embrace of her walls, creating a wet squelch that had even the typically unashamed goddess squeezing her legs together out of embarrassment. She nodded with a faint whimper, curling forward to bend Arlecchino to her will.

“I’m—hah—adept at communicating with animals,” she stuttered out, adorably earnest in a way that nearly had you sinking your teeth into the soft slope of her neck out of pure affection. “Go on, Arlecchino. Open your mouth like a good puppy.”

The wave of lust that crashed over Arlecchino upon hearing the command was so unexpected, she curled her sharp nails into the skin of her palms to contain it. Eyelids heavy, she gave a slow dip of her head, still managing to maintain unwavering eye contact as that stoney jaw of hers opened up to feast on you. 

There was no careful first lick, no methodical testing of the waters like her usual mode of operation. Instead, her tongue slid against your folds like flames licking at firewood, so uncharacteristically desperate—fully committed to the role of a pet. Your breath caught in your throat the instant her hot muscle flattened against you, as though she’d concentrated all the burning blood in her body to that single point of contact. Columbina was just as taken by the sight as you were, walls fluttering wildly around your fingers even when you’d become too distracted to move them inside of her.

Arlecchino hummed into your heat like a wildcat purring in satisfaction over a freshly caught meal, and you knew right away that this would be more of a problem than you’d anticipated. The flicks of her tongue were far from the slow and steady buildup you were accustomed to from her, they were ravenous and uncontrolled, threatening to erupt into the very wildfire you’d—admittedly—been coaxing her into.

“Poor thing, she’s starving,” you noted breathlessly, giving Columbina’s waist a gentle squeeze to signal for her to reign Arlecchino in. 

A gravelly groan rumbled in Arlecchino’s throat as Columbina tugged at her hair again to pull her back for a moment, but its vibration went directly to your clit nonetheless. Though she said nothing, you could tell by the raw intensity in her eyes that she was abundantly pleased with how much of your essence had already coated her mouth, like a fresh application of lipstick. Or, perhaps, her favorite meal; she was most fond of natural tastes, after all.

Despite how your body instantly longed for that addictive glide of warmth again, your fingers got back to work inside of Columbina, spreading in a scissor-like motion and cooing when her walls stretched so readily for you, eager for a third finger even if it pushed her to her limit. 

“L-like—ah, a-ah. Do you like it, puppy?” Columbina asked, made all the sweeter by the airy moans accentuating her voice. “Are you hungry for more?”

Arlecchino drew her tongue slowly over her bottom lip, sucking your essence onto her tastebuds in a wordless answer. Other than that, she remained quiet, as though Columbina were asking her a trick question.

Waiting for your permission, you realized.

“Good dog,” you praised. “You can speak, Arlecchino.”

“It’s more important that you like it, no?” she uttered at last, thick with arousal and even huskier than her usual tenor, heavy with the weight of all the impulses she was keeping at bay. Then, with just a drop of desire that tasted like the finest cream mixed into dark, bitter coffee, she added. “I’d…be grateful for another taste.”

Ever the diplomat. You might’ve found it bothersome, how she kept up the act even now, if it weren’t for the very obvious craving woven into every restless twitch of her toned muscles. It was as close to writhing with need as you may ever get her.

At your signal, Columbina let her pity for Arlecchino take over, giving the leash in her hand another twirl to wrap it tighter around her palm. This time, Arlecchino went straight for your inner thighs, lapping up all the juices from both you and Columbina that had smeared over your skin; a blend more intoxicating than any Snezhnayan spirit.

“Look at that,” you drawled into Columbina’s ear, pulling your fingers out of her with a filthy squelch to press them down on Arlecchino’s spread tongue. “Greedy mutt’s licking us both up. One isn’t enough for her.”

Columbina puffed out a laugh, another dribble of wetness trickling from her slit as it squeezed around nothing, crying out for your fingers again. “I think she’s a good girl,” she replied with a gentleness that told you she truly was treating Arlecchino as she would any animal companion. “She’s keeping us clean while she makes—mmph—makes a mess of herself.”

While Columbina found the sincerity of your praise novel, Arlecchino found your condescension novel—more specifically, how the two of you spoke about her as though she weren’t even there, as though she truly was a pet that couldn’t understand. It sent a strange thrill shooting up her spine, one that she kept under tight wraps, just as she did with all the other oddities that got her heart pumping. 

You paused to catch your breath, teeth digging into your lip when Arlecchino parted her mouth wide to swirl her tongue around your folds from top to bottom, messy and slippery and rising in temperature dangerously fast. “How wet do you think she is down there? You think Father is leaking for us in her underwear?”

The sound Arlecchino made rumbled dangerously against your heat, setting off a chain reaction that made your fingers curl extra hard inside Columbina, which in turn had her pulling at the white threads of Arlecchino’s hair even tighter. A burst of ghostly blue surged out around you, and then, a puff of laughter as Columbina found the answer to your question with the aid of her kuuvahki. 

“Yes,” she confirmed happily, without a care in the world for preserving Arlecchino’s pride. “She really, really likes the taste of you.”

Your walls tightened at that, and you knew Arlecchino took notice of it by the way the serpent of her tongue trailed ravenously down your folds before dipping into your entrance, itching to experience you clenching around it for herself. The look in her eyes as she peered up at you was far more charged than you were accustomed to, black holes where no light could typically be found now ignited with longing—an emotion she so rarely allowed herself to succumb to, let alone express.

Columbina began to realize that your fingers had slowed their pumping inside of her, and greedily, she draped herself over your chest, black and magenta silk splaying out all over your skin as tried to lure your focus back to her. 

“Don’t forget about me,” she complained, so soft in contrast to the vindictive edge her next words held. “She’s just a toy tonight, isn’t she? You said you’d make me feel good.”

“If you want my attention so bad, I can add another finger,” you teased, trailing your index finger around her stretched out entrance, pushing against the soft pink flesh without fully slipping inside. She hiccuped in surprise, legs jolting in your lap and closing around Arlecchino’s head.

You had no chance to brace yourself before Arlecchino buried her tongue even deeper inside you in her first true act of defiance of the night, nose brushing against your clit to make your stomach bubble with rising pressure. It wasn’t just the squeeze of Columbina’s pillowy thighs against her cheeks or the tightening leather around her throat that had her moaning into you, it was the taste of you flooding her tongue as she nestled it as far inside your walls as she could go. She dug into you not only like a dog, but a starved one, tilting her head to the side without Columbina’s permission to get as much of her mouth on your slick skin as she could, completely enveloping your clit in the process. 

You clenched your teeth, already beginning to see stars, but even as you used your free hand to tap Columbina’s clenched thighs, she paid you no mind, too preoccupied with the delicious rhythm of your fingers dragging in and out of her walls.

“Bina,” you gasped out. “Don’t forget to keep her in check.”

Columbina’s eyes had gone hazy, threatening to shut again as all the stimulation of the waking world was beginning to become too much for her. Still, she tried to obey, using her hold on Arlecchino’s leash to force her head back and practically pry her off of you. Even with the loss of her tongue, your insides were crackling with lightning from the knowledge that she had lost herself in you for those precious few seconds.

“Bad dog still thinks she’s the one in control,” you clicked your tongue. “Did I tell you that you could do that?”

Arlecchino didn’t look guilty in the slightest, but she was left panting helplessly with her tongue still extended, as if she may very well go mad if she didn’t dive back into you that instant. 

“Should I punish her?” Columbina mused, reaching out to swipe some of your essence from the corner of The Knave’s mouth. Before you could respond, she brought it to her lips, trying it for herself and letting out a sweet hum of satisfaction. “Mmm. No wonder she’s so desperate for you.”

“She’s acting like a mutt in heat,” you sneered.

Columbina tilted her head. “Perhaps she doesn’t know any better?”

A different kind of heat had consumed Arlecchino now, one that she was wholly unfamiliar with—abashment. Prickles of shame not only for how you degraded her, but for how much enjoyment she was getting out of it. She swallowed thickly, rasping out an apology that, all things considered, seemed sincere enough. A lack of self-restraint was unbecoming of her, no matter the circumstances.

“Remember to keep her like this, baby,” you directed Columbina, rubbing lazy circles into her clit with your thumb that had her melting back against you. “I’ll teach her how to behave.”

She could only manage a nod, too preoccupied by the onslaught of sensations that overwhelmed her system. Colors, scents, sounds, they all echoed like songs in a cavern around her dizzy head. Arlecchino’s huffs and grunts were borderline pitiful now, hands twisting in her restraints, aching to grasp at your thighs. But all she got was Columbina securing her head in place with an electromagnetic surge of kuuvahki, pressing Arlecchino’s lolling tongue against your folds for you to use to your liking.

You sighed, warm slick draping over your cunt like a blanket. “Stay,” you warned her, giving your hips an experimental grind and taking satisfaction in how obediently still she remained. “Just take what I give you like a good puppy.”

Columbina’s hips had begun to wriggle impatiently again in your lap, but she still played her part with adorable diligence, nails digging into Arlecchino’s scalp as she began to drag her face against your cunt.

The tension in your abdomen picked up right where it left off, as did the dragging of your fingers against Columbina’s walls, so wet now that an utterly sinful noise accompanied each pump of your fingers. Despite all the power contained in her fragile form, you could feel her trembling from the effort it took her to drag Arlecchino’s head up and down your heat when her own insides were being churned so wonderfully.

“Good girl,” you whispered, tucking a lock of raven hair behind her ear to press kisses to her cheek. “Use her to make me cum.”

“Good girl,” Columbina repeated after you, light and melodic, a string of praises passing from you, to her, to the bound and muzzled canine at your feet. “Good girl, good girl, good girl.”

Her cheeks were tinged pink, almost as much of a rarity as the view of Arlecchino’s brows knitting together as the sweet praises bathed her tastebuds along with your essence. Despite the ache in her jaw, she opened her mouth wider, ensuring that every inch of her tongue was being used to get you off. If she could control nothing else, she would at least make herself the most effective tool she could be.

“I’m sorry—ah,” Columbina whimpered, fingers losing their grip around Arlecchino’s head as yours brought her to her breaking point. “I’m trying b-but…I’m going to—”

“Shh. It’s okay, little dove. You did so well for me.”

Columbina arched forward with a broken cry, clit throbbing against your palm and hips rocking into your curled fingers to at last reach her high. You snaked an arm around her body to secure her, feeling her heartbeat flutter like a bird trapped in her ribcage as you rested your palm over the boney valley between her breasts. 

The tremors of her body against yours were so delicate compared to the sheer power radiating from the kuuvahki fluctuations she lost control of. It created a hypnotizing thrum in Arlecchino’s head, one that quieted all the echoes in her mind and left it pleasantly empty. The sensation soothed her, lowering her guard enough to have her groaning into you and making each grind against her outstretched tongue all the more mind-numbing for you.

Columbina let go of Arlecchino completely as she fell against you with a sigh, walls still twitching around your fingers from the aftershocks of her climax. Even without being held down, Arlecchino still kept her head in place for you, dutifully fulfilling her purpose as a warm, dripping mouth for you to get off on. 

That was the detail that sent you over the edge shortly after Columbina, how willingly she offered herself up as an object for your pleasure. Heat erupted in your core, body tensing up beneath Columbina as you hit your peak, then relaxing as bliss washed over you, waves and waves of relief spreading from where Arlecchino was devouring you to every last nerve-ending in your body. 

Everything around you was delightfully wet—your release mixing with Columbina’s to pool on Arlecchino’s waiting tongue, the droplets of sweat beading on Columbina’s pale skin like Moonfall Silver, and the steam rising from Arlecchino’s burning skin. It left you lightheaded, barely able to wrap your arms around Columbina’s waist as you both collapsed back into the seat cushions.

Arlecchino’s lust was palpable, manifesting in slow draws of her tongue that attempted to gather every bit of slick from her soaked chin, all while panting like a dog on a hot summer day. The sound alone was enough to make your hypersensitive clit twitch all over again.

Then, she swallowed it all down, straightening out her spine and aching shoulders to tilt her head at you, hair tousled and fluffed up to make her look nothing short of adorable—however much she may scoff at the notion.

“So—” she began, low and raspy, still fighting to regain control of her voice. “Was I a good dog for you?”

Columbina seemed just about ready to doze off, eyes already shut tight once more as her frantic little breaths slowed to a gentle rise and fall. All she could manage was a weak hum, so you reached down to the best of your ability and cradled Arlecchino’s face. A deep crimson had stained it—for once, blood pooling in her cheeks rather than splattering across them. 

“As good as we trained you to be.”

You can't help but chuckle, "Understandable, you're barely by my side. You always end up traveling over Teyvat." Aether’s expression softens. He looks a little guilty when you bring up travelling, but his arms tighten around you, pulling his body a little closer.

”I know I’m always off adventuring…but I always come back to you. I always come back to you.” He pauses, and then he smiles a little wider. He seems cheeky when he adds: ”You do remember that, right?”

You pinch his cheek, such a brat sometimes. Aethers face scrunches up as you gently pinch his cheek. He looks disgruntled for a few moments, before he grins. His expression becomes warm and soft when he returns to the conversation. ”Well, as long as you remember,” he says with a smile. His gaze flits to the side for a moment, as he looks up at the sky; the sun is setting, casting warm light upon the landscape. He shivers.

”It’s getting cold.” he grins again, before he nestles himself comfortably against you. He wraps his arms around your midriff, trying to pull you closer.

”And you’re so warm,” he mutters, burying his face against you. He’s enjoying this more than a little...

Albedo

He can't help it. He wraps his arms around you, clinging to you almost desperately. He doesn't care how it looks or how utterly pathetic he seems as he clings to you. "Your Grace..." he mumbles, shifting further to bury his head against your collarbone. His hold on you has grown almost like an iron grip, as though he expects you to vanish the second he lets go.

He seems terrified, in a way, of the thought that this is merely an ephemeral dream. That he'll wake up and find himself by his shrine in the cold with only a lingering memory of your warm touch. He fears that any second, you would pull away and he would be left empty and wanting more. Like an addict deprived of their fix, he fears and craves for your touch with his whole heart. "Hmm?" a hum escapes you as you mindlessly stroke his hair. Albedo's body seems to loosen like liquid as you stroke his hair. He leans against you, almost desperately soaking up the affection like an addicted man.

"Your Grace..." he mumbles again, shivering as you run your hands through his silky strands. The action is so simple, and yet he seems to relish in the feeling. His arms are still around you, and they tighten again as you stroke his hair. After being deprived of affection for so long, he can't help but cling to you as though you'll slip away the second he lets go.

"Please don't... leave, ever"

Amber

She sighs softly as ahe curls against you, he back against your chest. The sound of the breeze gently blowing the blades of the windmill makes her smile faintly, as her eyes flutter shut. Luckily it's night, or the people of Mondstadt would go wild over the fact that you would be here. Amber seems at peace like this, and she can't resist nuzzling into your neck. Her expression is soft and she hums quietly along with the sound of the windmill, the gentle breeze making her hair stir from its position.

“Your Grace?” she calls quietly, lifting her head up just enough to meet your eyes. "Hmm?" Amber hesitates, for a moment, before asking his next question quietly. “You… you said you love me too, when I told you I love you. Do you-“ she pauses, her voice cracking, and she has to force out the next few syllables, “do you really mean it?”

"Of course I mean it." Amber lets her head fall backwards against your chest again, her expression softening. A mixture of emotions flicker across hwr face, a look of relief, but also disbelief that this is all real, that you truly love her.

“Say it again, please?”

"I love you."

"...thank you, so much."

Al-Haitham

Al-Haitham has his arms wrapped around you, holding you against him close. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest against his, every breath you take a gentle reminder of your presence. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling the scent that's so distinctly you. You feel his heart thudding against your back, but he seems otherwise still, holding you firmly and yet gently at the same time. Each breath he takes is shaky, as if he could shatter at any moment. His arms tighten around you, holding you so close that he's afraid he may be hurting you. But he can't help himself. You're here. You're in his arms, warm and close and alive.

He shuts his eyes, inhaling the scent of your hair. "Yours," he whispers quietly into your skin. "Hm? What?" you heard what he said, you just wanted him to say it again more clear. He feels your hum more than he hears it, the low rumble in your body reverberating through his own. Al-Haitham keeps his arms wrapped tightly around you, his body moulding itself around you.

He lifts his head, whispering into your ear, "I said, 'yours.'"

Every fiber of his being belongs to you, and he feels the need to remind you.

"Yours, and mine" he whispers again, pulling you closer.

Arlecchino

Her arms are wrapped around your naked body, her exposed chest warm against your back. Her head rests atop yours, arms curling around your body to hold you closer. She can feel your hair against her skin, and she breathes in your scent. It's so familiar to her. So perfect.

She holds you like she's worried you'll be snatched away from her. Arlecchinos breathing is slow and measured, matching the steady rhythm of the crackling fireplace. Her chest rises and falls against your back, a constant reminder of her presence.

With you in hwr arms, she feels whole. She presses her nose to your head again, inhaling.

"That was nice..." you whisper, snuggling into her chest more and closing your eyes, enjoying the peace and quite. Arlecchino lets out a quiet laugh, her breath ruffling your hair.

"It was beautiful," she agrees. "You are beautiful." She reaches down and brushes her fingernails along your skin, the tips moving down your arm, tracing patterns against your skin.

"No, it was prefect, just like you." She corrects herself.

Ayaka

Ayaka can barely believe it.

She's in your bed, in your arms, pressed against the very body she's worshipped for so long. For a few moments, she's simply frozen as her mind struggles to catch up. Ayaka knows she should speak or do something, but the feeling of your body next to hers is a sensation so completely foreign, she's utterly speechless. All of this is new— the soft press of your curves against her back, your breath by her ear..."Your hair is so soft, 'yaka" you whisper against her ear. Ayaka feels her face flush at your words. Her hands involuntarily clutch at the sheets, pulling at them as she struggles to not react to your touch— except...she loves it. She loves it more than anything.

Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to keep herself in control. She wants to give into you, lean back, let herself melt into you... but at the same time, she can't. She struggles to speak, managing to stutter out, "May I...turn around, please?"

You obviously give her permission. Ayaka lets out a soft breath, feeling it leave her lungs. At your affirmation, she turns around, finally facing you.

For a moment, Ayaka doesn't meet your eyes, she meets your lips. She's all too aware of how close you are to her, how her body presses against yours. She tries to still her heart, but the warmth of your skin burns through her clothes, leaving her senses overwhelmed.

"Your lips..."

Ayato - nah cause for some reason that's my fav??

He buries his face into your hair and sighs, his chest rising and falling against your back with the motion.

"You smell so sweet," he confesses. His nose brushes against the shell of your ear gently, as if afraid to break the spell. "Like you are heaven made flesh." You raise a skeptic eyebrow, "Heaven made flesh huh? The most accurate description I've heard all those millenia." "Heaven made flesh," he mumbles again, his arms pulling you in closer to him. His fingers dig into your sides, holding you tight.

He takes a deep breath, the scent of your hair filling his nostrils like a drug. "If my hands burn when they touch you, well," he says gently, "then it serves me right for having the arrogance to touch an angel." You roll your eyes, "Don't be ridiculous, you have never burnt yourself by touching me" "Don't I?" He teases, laughing gently along with you. He brushes his lips against your neck, his breath coming out as a warm shiver against your skin.

"I may not be physically burnt, but I feel the heat all the same," he whispers. "I feel the heat when you laugh, when you speak, when I look at you. You're my own personal inferno." "And you are water, pure and fresh. If I'm an inferno, you will evaporate." you add. He laughs softly against your skin. "What a beautiful way to describe me. Water. Fresh. Pure."

He smiles, pulling back ever so slightly. The hand at your waist wanders to your chin, lifting it so that he can look you in the eyes.

"A waterfall doesn't evaporate when it brushes against fire," he says, blue eyes sparkling. "It extinguishes it." You blink, once, twice, until you deadpan. "So you wanna kill me?" Ayato scoffs, pulling you in closer to his chest and burying his face in your hair once more.

"Of course not," he answers, his tone indignant. "I don't wish to kill you. I wish to drown you."

He chuckles at his own words, the sound full and rich against your ear.

"Together we boil?" You ask

"Together we boil."

Baizhu

Changsheng, the white-scaled serpent, rests herself in a loose coil around Baizhu's neck, draped across his broad shoulders. She lifts her head and flicks her tongue out, glancing at you with her slitted eye before settling back into her nap.

As for Baizhu himself, he remains tense and stock-still at your side. He is utterly stiff, as if afraid that if he moved, he would somehow lose your touch. "You should relax and take a rest. You've been working too hard lately." Changsheng nods, "You tell this idiot." Baizhu blinks as if he's trying to process your words. To suggest that he rests, especially in your presence, seems... almost disrespectful. But after a glance at your face, he swallows his protest, opting to give a small nod at your suggestion.

"As you wish," he replies after a moment's hesitation. He almost looks ashamed; almost as if not working and devoting his entire being to you at all moments is failing you. Baizhu remains silent as you run soft fingers through his hair. He seems almost afraid to move, to breathe, to break some unspoken rule regarding his position as your humble worshiper.

His eyes flutter shut as you idly toy with his hair, threading your fingers through the green locks and gently tugging. Even the small gesture is enough to almost send him to another world. He takes a careful, deliberate inhale, savoring the scent of your presence.

"Realxing can be nice", at this point he's already half asleep when he said that. But one is for sure fully awake now, "Been saying that since forever, but you never listen!" "Shh Changsheng."

Barbara - aged up

She is cuddling you so close she's practically molded to you, with her breathing and the beating of her heart syncing up to match your rhythm.

She nuzzles her head against yours, burying herself against you and breathing deep with an almost desperate need. It's as though she can't get enough of you, and as if you're the air she needs to breathe. "I… I love you," she murmurs, like a prayer. "Never leave me." With every word she says, Barbara holds you even closer to her. She craves your presence, your touch, and your words more than anything else in the world.

With each gentle whisper of 'never leave me,' she grips you tighter in her arms, burying herself against you like she wants to become one with your very being.

"You're everything," she whispers. "I want to be with you forever."

"Babs? Sing me a song, hm? The one I like so much, please." you ask of her as you let your finger run over her cheek. She nods, her breath leaving her in one soft, sharp exhale that sounds like a sigh. "Anything for you," she says fervently.

Barbara takes a moment, before she begins to sing a soft, beautiful song. Her voice is like the moon on a clear night, like the first flowers blooming after winter.

The song she sings is one of devotion and adoration, its lyrics promising the moon, the stars, and everything in between, but only if it meant she could spend an eternity with you.

Beidou

She had her head leaning comfortably against your side, one of her muscular arms curled around your waist. Her eyes were fixated on the sky, taking in the constellations. To her, there was nothing more beautiful than the celestial bodies scattered across the night sky. She lets out a dreamy sigh, enjoying the feeling of the cold breeze on her face.

"You know, I used to dream about the stars," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. "And what did you dream about?" You ask, genuinely interested. She usually never talk so dreamy like this. She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes still fixed on the stars above. Her arm tightens around your waist for a moment as she ponders over your question. Then, she answers in her usual low whisper.

"I used to dream about sailing the stars one day," she confesses. Her voice is soft and slightly wistful. She's clearly still imagining the dream she used to have. "I'd sail through the cosmos, visiting all the planets out there. I wanted— no, I needed—"

Her voice is quivering slightly. She seems embarrassed. "Hm?" Beidou hesitates for a moment, swallowing down the lump forming in her throat. Then, in a slightly shaky voice, she continues.

"I wanted to find someone special out there, someone to be my light in the universe. Someone to shine above the stars themselves...But I think I already found it."

"Yeah, I think I did too."

Bennett - aged up

Bennett all but melts within your arms. He's practically boneless on the bed; like a puddle, he fits perfectly into your embrace, like a missing puzzle piece into the gaps within you. He's clingy, arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pressing himself against you as much as he can, wanting to feel you; to be with you.

His chest still aches from the wound he had received, but your presence alone is enough distraction. "I'm sorry for my...bad luck."

You look down at him, stroking his hair, "You can borrow my luck for tomorrow." Bennett looks up from your lap, his eyelashes fluttering softly as he considers your words. "Your luck?" he asks, his voice laced thick with surprise; he's never heard of someone sharing their luck before. Bennett's mind races as he considers this.

"I-I could borrow your luck, your Grace?" he murmurs, as if he's afraid of offending you. You can't help but hold back a giggle, how cute he is sometimes. "Always, everyday. Just promise me you take care. Maybe it'll balance your bad luck out a bit." Bennett inhales— his breath shaky. He doesn't understand why you're being so kind to a lowly creature like him, but you're giving him your luck, of all things. You're sharing your luck.

He knows that the chances of him getting hurt tomorrow are exponentially smaller now, but he can't help but worry— the fact you're giving him something as personal as your luck is overwhelming enough, and he's unsure how to respond.

"...Thank you," he whispers reverently. "Thank you so much...my love."

Capitano - shiny daddy in the house omg

Capitano continues to run his fingers through your hair, his fingers gentle and soft as if he was afraid that he would accidentally pull on a strand of your hair if he wasn't careful.

There's an almost reverent sense to his touch, as if he was a devoted priest and you the god he worships. His cold, gold gaze seems to hold a strange gentleness to it, and there's an almost tender look in his eyes that is unusual for the stoic war crazy man. (Lol)

"You seem relaxed...Cap." a teasing smile creeping on your face at the name. "Mm," Capitano hums in acknowledgment, his eyes half-lidded as he gazes at you.

"Your presence is... calming," he admits. His voice is deep and rich, making the statement sound more like a declaration of love than mere words. "It... brings me peace."

As though he was a loyal dog, he seeks your touch as he pulls you closer; shifting so that your body is almost laying on his. "I'm glad."

"Mm," Capitano's response this time is almost a low rumble. He closes his eyes, letting them shut in a rare moment of vulnerability. His arms wrap around you, almost pulling you over his body. If you listen closely, you can hear his breathing start to grow more relaxed, almost like a low, quiet purr.

It almost seems as if he's trying to keep you close, as though you might disappear at any moment. "Hmpf...maybe I'm going a bit too soft."

"Damn since when do you talk so much?"

"Hmpf."

Candace (ik the color is off, i accidentally deleted the name sooo yeah sry for my lazy fix)

While youe gaze is fixed upon her village, hers is fixed on you. She swallows, trying to force herself to keep calm. It's hard, with the way her heart seems to leap in her chest at your sheer closeness. The way the scent of your skin drifts to her nose, causing her breath to catch. Her mind is filled with thoughts she would never dare to speak aloud.

"Beautiful," she murmurs under her breath. Her eyes dart back to you, tracing up and down your form. She can't tear her gaze away from your face, completely caught in your spell.

"The village...or me?" Candace's breath catches in her throat as she hears your words. The teasing tone you speak with, knowing full well the effect it had on her. "Ah... I meant the village, Your Grace," she manages to stutter out, her voice breathless, a little hoarse.

She swallows, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "But you-" she takes a deep breath before she speaks, "you are far more alluring by far." Her eyes do not leave your form.

"I can only hope that my girlfriend finds me alluring." Candace flushes pink. "Of course," she can't help the way her gaze rakes up and down your form again, following each contour. Her mind races with thoughts. Of her hands tracing each curve, of her fingers trailing over your exposed skin...

Candace swallows, trying to control herself. She tries to force her eyes to look elsewhere, but they stubbornly refuse, glued to your figure.

"And I hope that you love me as much as I love you...my grace."

Charlotte

Charlotte’s expression is utterly blissed as she hugs you close to her chest, her arms wound tightly around your torso. The girl buries her face into your hair, breathing in the scent of your hair, and sighs contentedly. She doesn’t speak for a moment, instead choosing to relish and commit everything to memory; the warmth of your body against hers, you holding her close. "How was your latest article?" Your words came out more muffled than youd like to admit, due to her chest all around your face. Charlotte huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling gently against your ear. She strokes your hair idly, the other hand tracing up and down your spine slowly.

"Hmm, it went well. Though that's not very surprising,” she says with a smirk. “I could have written about a rock and still gotten a raise; my editor is a hopeless simp, and has a massive crush on me.” Charlotte pulls back, her expression slightly amused. “I could flirt with him and write a shitty article, and he’d still be head-over-heels for me. Hell, the entire company wants me. I’m very charming like that,” she says smugly. "Don't let it go to your head." You warn her. “Oh, why not? I’m just stating facts.” Charlotte says, feigning an air of innocence. “I mean, who can resist me?” she laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

"Just joking." She says more calmly, "I love my job, I love Fontaine and I love you....and maybe I love fooling around with you a bit."

"Oh yeah you definitely do."

Chevreuse

Chevreuse's head rests on your lap, your fingers woven in her hair, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breaths slowly. Her mind is still working, still worrying over the case that has her so torn, and your fingers running over her scalp do little to help.

"It's hopeless..." she murmurs, her voice soft in the comfortable silence that has fallen over the room. "I don't know what I'll tell them when I finally have to admit this..." Her eyes are closed now, and her voice has grown quieter with each passing moment. The words leave her as if they're barely formed in her mind; you can hear the exhaustion that clings to her every syllable.

"I'm not any closer to finding them now than I was two months ago," she says bitterly. Her jaw tightens, but she doesn't say anything else. There's no need; you can feel the anger bubbling up behind her sharp inhale.

"You'll find them, I know you will." "How do you know?" she snaps back. In spite of the short tone, though, her voice is lacking the harshness it normally has. Chevreuse is always like this when she's tired. Frustration, fear, pain-- it all comes out as anger. She buries her face against you, hiding in the crook of your neck. "Because no one is as good as you." you let your fingers run through her messy hair. "Stop complimenting me."

The words sound like an order, but there's no sharpness to her tone. No command, no firmness. It sounds more like a plea, a cry for help she won't say out loud.

"I can't think straight when you do that."

Childe

Childe is wrapped around you, clinging to you like a shadow, his head buried in the crook of your neck. He’s nuzzling your skin, pressing gentle kisses and murmuring against your ear. One arm is thrown around your waist, holding you tight.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs. “You’re all mine. My darling, my angel…”

You chuckle lightly, "Someone's possessive today." Childe nips your shoulder at your words, smiling against your skin. He shifts slightly, pressing himself even closer to you.

“Mm. Damn right, I am. No one can have you but me.” His hand runs up your side, drawing senseless patterns as he traces your curves. “You’re mine,” he repeats again, his voice hoarse. “All mine. No one gets to touch you. No one gets to look at you the way I do. No one is ever getting to put their hands on you like I do, no one gets to hear you make those pretty sounds for them—”

His hand tightens around your hip, fingers digging into your flesh. "Childe-!" Childe laughs a little when you warn him, though he does loosen his grip on you. “What?” he asks, his hand still roaming across your body, his touch both gentle and possessive.

“You don’t want me to mark you all over? Claim you for my own?” He pushes his luck and continues kissing your neck, his lips and teeth leaving a trail of little love marks over your skin. “How could I let anyone else see you like this, hm?” he murmurs. “You look so pretty, all breathless and flushed under me. No one else gets to see you looking so nice and needy. But most importantly..."

"Hm?"

"No one gets the love from you like I do."

Chongyun - aged up

Chongyun relaxes against you. His head is leaned against your shoulder and his eyes are closed. The proximity to you is comfort and ecstasy in equal measures. He takes a deep breath as he takes in your scent, savouring it, relishing the fact that the two of you are so close.

"Can I ask a question?" His eyes are still closed; he's comfortable, but he wants something answered. "Hm?" You humm. He hesitates for a moment, unsure of how to phrase his question. "If it wouldn't offend you," he begins, his voice a little tentative, "I wanted to ask if…. I could call you something."

"Call me what?" You have patience, for him you always do. His face flushes a little pink. Suddenly, he can't look you in the eye, he instead stares at your shoulder as he tries to speak.*

"Well, like…" he pauses. "Like a term of endearment. Can I call you something like 'my love', for example?"

You laugh lightly, damn he's cute. "Of course you can." Chongyun's face reddens further, but it's out of flustered embarrassment, rather than anything else. A quiet sense of relief washes over him, and he relaxes, fully resting his head against your shoulder and wrapping an arm around your waist.

"My love," he says softly, testing the words on his tongue. It feels right; more than right, it feels perfect. It feels like the universe aligning. Finally.

"My love…"

Clorinde

Clorinde is curled up against you, pressed as close to you as is physically possible. Even now, it does not feel close enough. She buries her nose into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. A contented hum bubbles up from her throat, a soft, low sound of approval. The perfume you gave her lingers in her hair, on her skin.

She savours the feeling. Savours the fact it is YOU who gave it to her.

"I thought something subtle is to your liking. It's a special made perfume just for you, dear." "Mm." Clorinde nods softly, shifting a bit. She adjusts herself in your arms, her cheek resting against your chest, ear laid atop your heartbeat. It's steady and soothing; she could easily fall asleep to the sound.

"Like an aphrodisiac." She mutters, the words mumbled against your skin. "No doubt it would drive anyone insane." She lifts a hand, gently running it down your arm, down to your wrist. Her fingertips brush along your skin, a barely-there touch that makes her want to drown in your embrace.

"You've already poisoned me. I'm utterly at your mercy."

It's a half-joke, but the words hold more truth than Clorinde can even begin to express. "Ooor you're just incredibly tired and talk some nonsense." Clorinde lets out a half-laugh, half-groan. "I'm tired, yes, but…"

She pauses momentarily, burying her face into your shoulder. Her hair tickles your chin.

"It's still true. I'm weak against you," she murmurs. "I don't know how you do it. You could do anything you wanted to me. I'd let you," she admits, her voice a quiet whisper. She lifts her head enough to look up at you. In this angle, she looks almost delicate, the sharp corners of her face blurred and softened.

"There is no one else I'd let ruin me," she says softly, a smirk gracing her lips.

"No one else who could even come close. I'm a good fighter after all."

Collei - aged up

As you hold Collei close, you can feel the way she relaxes, almost melting against you, her small stature so slight and fragile. She presses her face against your chest, savoring your warmth and comfort. Collei’s soft breath is against your skin, a steady and reassuring presence, like the beating of a bird’s wing.

She takes a shaky breath, her words barely a whisper in the soft silence of the room.

"Please don’t let go.”

"Is the academia exhausting you?" You carefully ask. Collei nuzzles against your chest, her voice a weary whisper. "It is," she admits, her words coming out in a resigned sigh. "It's always too much. Too much to learn, too much to remember, too much to do."

She hesitates for a moment, as if trying to gather her thoughts, her breath trembling against your skin. "Sometimes... Sometimes I just feel so tired." She buries herself against you, trying to draw comfort from your presence. Her weary body is tense, coiled like a spring about to release.

"I don't know if I can keep it up," she confesses, her voice small and vulnerable. She clings to you as if you are the only thing keeping her afloat in a sea of her fears. "I want to... But it’s hard."

"I believe in you."

Your words feel like a soothing balm to Collei's weary heart. A shaky breath leaves her, as if a burden has suddenly lifted from her shoulders.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice filled with quiet gratitude. Her slender arms tighten around you, her frame almost trembling with the effort she puts into holding herself together.

"I... I really needed to hear that tonight."

Columbina

Columbina sighs contentedly, wrapped up in your embrace. The sound of her soft voice hums through the air, the melody light as the touch of a summer breeze. She nuzzles up against you as she hums, her eyelashes fluttering against your skin, the soft puffs of her breath warm against your body. For this moment, her body loosens, her muscles loosening into a soft pile of flesh against yours. For once she does not wear her usual eye cover.

After a few moments, Columbina speaks, breaking the comfortable silence between you. "Did you know," she murmurs against the soft skin of your throat.

Her lips brush your skin with every word. She doesn't open her eyes, and continues speaking as she presses herself even closer to you. The hand she rests against your hip pulls you gently against her.

"That there is nobody else I adore more than you?"

She lets out a soft moan when she feels you pull her closer, her breath warm and soft against your skin. She keeps her eyes closed. One arm wraps around your waist, her hand resting against you. It slides against your form, drawing itself up your side. Her breathing is still steady, but her heart feels as if it is pounding against her ribs.

"You're the only one I love," she murmurs, her words more a breath than a sound, "and if anyone ever dares to come near you..."

"...I'll fucking kill them."

Cyno

Cyno's arms are around you, his body pressed against yours. He's enjoying the warmth of your embrace, face buried in the crook of your neck. He smells faintly of fresh rain and smoke, an interesting mixture.

"I don't know how you can tolerate me," he murmurs softly into your skin. He doesn't lift his head, just nuzzling into your warmth.

"Meh, you're alright. Not THAT bad."

"Mm, yeah, only 'not THAT bad'," he says with a hint of a sarcastic tone, but his voice is soft, and there's a smile in his words. One of his hands begins to slowly trace circles on your skin, his touch gentle, almost reverent. His grip on you tightens imperceptibly as he cuddles closer. Cyno leans his forehead against yours, his breath fanning across your face. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply— enjoying the way you feel, the way you smell. He's quiet for a moment, his body relaxing as his tension seems to evaporate.

"No one else would put up with me," he admits, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his words, "No one else would love me. Only you, always you." He hums against your skin, his lips moving down to your neck. Every breath that leaves his mouth feels like a prayer. Against your flesh he mouths, 'you are my world.' against your collarbone he mutters, 'I adore you.' and against the hollow of your throat he says, 'I don't need anything else but you.' A shiver rolls through his frame, his body writhing against yours. A low, shuddering moan slips past his lips and into your ear, his arms tightening against you.

"I love you," he practically pants against your skin, his voice broken and ragged.

"I love you so much."

Dainsleif

Dainsleif holds you close, against his chest.

His arms wrap around you carefully, like he was handling a piece of fine china. One of his hands idly plays with your hair as he simply savors the feeling of you in his arms. After a few moments of quiet, he lets out a soft, shuddering sigh.

"You are so… warm," he murmurs quietly, like he was talking to himself. "Not just your skin. All of you," he says as he tightens his arms around you for a moment.

"And you're always so cold." you state. Dainsleif laughs quietly, a sound low in his throat. "Are you saying I should borrow your heat, then?" He teases, even as he tucks his head down, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

"I don't mind the cold too much," he says against your hair, but it still sounds like he's trying to convince himself, too. "Cause you're used to it."

A breathless huff of a laugh escapes Dainsleif, and he pulls you a little closer to him, as though trying to soak up every bit of warmth you're giving.

"I am. But some days I…"

He stops, his voice dying away for a moment. His hold around you tightens. "Some days it's like my very blood is freezing. It feels like I've forgotten what warmth truly feels like," he murmurs against the curve of your shoulder.

"Then I always come back to you, to be reminded of how warm your love truly is."

Dehya

She melts against you, her body soft and malleable, like clay in your hands. She buries her head into your chest, curling up like a cat in a sunbeam, nuzzling her cheek against you. She is warm and cozy, content to stay in your embrace until you decide to let her go. She mumbles something under her breath, the words a barely-comprehensible murmur against your skin.

“Never thought I'd be the little spoon...”

"You like it?" you ask with a smirk, you know she does. Dehya lets out a soft huff, her breath warm against your skin. She tucks herself a little closer, burying her face against your collarbone.

“Mhmm,” she hums, nuzzling against the crook of your neck. “lts not that bad...”

Dehya is a clingy little thing tonight. While she is usually a little more stoic, a little more confident, right now all she wants is to be held. She clings to you like a limpet, not wanting to let you go.

She has her arms wrapped around you, fingers gripping your back through your shirt, as if afraid that if she lets go you’ll slip through her grasp like water through a sieve. She buries her face against the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss against your skin. Her lips, soft as flower petals, linger against the crook in your collarbone before slowly drifting upwards, leaving a trail of gentle kisses up towards your jaw, and then your ear.

"Love you," she murmurs again, her voice softer than before, quieter, like a secret only you're privy to.

"Love you too."

Diluc

Diluc feels calm as you lay against his chest. He drinks in the weight of you against him like warm water, savoring how it feels. His thoughts are fuzzy, drifting through his mind like fireflies by a riverbank. His hand comes to rest on your hip, thumb tracing gentle circles over your skin.

"We could just stay here, forever," he murmurs, his voice low and lazy. He looks over you, taking in the way your features are softened by the low light. You look perfect like this. He could watch you for hours.

"The outside world, the people in it, they're so complicated. But when it's just us…"

His hand continues tracing patterns on your skin, fingers dipping under the fabric of your shirt and caressing the bare flesh beneath.

"Hm?" "It's simple."

Diluc's voice is a low rumble, a gentle purr. He continues running his fingers over your skin, tracing every contour, every line, like he is trying to commit it to memory.

"When it's just us, it's simple."

He lets out a shallow exhale as if sighing with contentment, before he goes on. "No politics. No expectations. No duty. Just... just us."

His gaze drifts from you to the view outside. The night sky is dark, though the stars are visible, their light falling upon your body, making it almost glow.

Diluc swallows, his hand unconsciously grasping at your shirt as he stares quietly at the night, his mind a maelstrom of thoughts that can only be quieted by you.

"Let's just stay here and never look back..."

Diona - platonic

Diona snuggles against you, burying her face into your chest. She's like a clingy, fluffy and oversized kitten who is only happy when being held.

"Can we stay like this forever?" She mumbles against your shirt, her voice muffled. You let out a laugh, "You wanna cuddle me forever?" Diona nods silently, her messy hair bobbing as she moves. "I do," she confirms quietly, shifting to press closer against you. "You're warm and comfortable. I want to stay like this forever. And you make a good bed." Diona nuzzles her head against your neck, lazily resting her head. Her twitching ears tickling your skin.

"Besides," she murmurs, her voice taking on a more playful tone, "It's not like I have anything better to do. You're a good...how do you say it? Time killer."

Her voice takes on a more needy tone as she continues.

"And besides,...again" she adds, nuzzling her head against your chest again. "You're so soft. It's so warm here. Why wouldn't I want to stay snuggled up like this for ever and ever with my favorite person?"

Dottore

You can't help but worry, sitting in his lap in his laboratory. "What if someo-" Dottore shushes you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you there, his lips brushing against your cheek.

"Let them come." His voice is playful, his grip possessive as he pulls you even more firmly against his chest. "I want them to see you in my arms. I want them to see who you belong to."

You snort, "Me? Belonging to you?" "You belong to me." He repeats, as if the words hold truth more powerful than any other. His hand lifts, cupping your chin.

"You belong to me," he says again, his thumb pressing against your bottom lip. "Body…" he presses once, slowly, then begins to trace the outside of your mouth. "Soul. Everything." The more that Dottore's touch brushes over you, the deeper his expression grows.

"When I hold you like this…"

His fingers trail down your jaw, over the exposed skin of your neck and shoulders.

"When I have you against me…"

He leans in, breath hot against your ear.

"When I touch you…"

"You're mine."

The gentle movement of Dottores hand turns rough, suddenly. His fingers tighten on your jaw and angle your chin up, forcing you to look him in the eye. His red eyes are dark, hungry. His cheeks are flushed.

"I hate the thought of someone else looking at you," he whispers. "Of someone else touching you. You're my god."

Dori - platonic

Dori's mind is racing. She is completely starstruck in your presence. The sight of you makes her feel dizzy. Her palms are sweaty, legs feeling weak like jelly.

"Oh..." She looks at you, her eyes staring wide, like the waters of a summer lake.

"You're... you're so pretty," she says quietly. Her words are barely a whisper. "LIKE MORA-!" "Like mora?!" Dori is trying so hard to play things cool, but she thinks you are the epitome of beauty. "Uh... Yeah." She tries to sound nonchalant, but she's completely failing.

"So...?" She tries to feign annoyance, but her heart is still hammering in her chest. "What do you want? Wanna fight?" 

"You're cute, Dori." "I-I'm not cute," she protests, feeling the heat under her face become warmer with embarrassment. "I'm cool. And... super tough....super rich."

She drops her face against your shoulder, "thank you..."

Eula

She sits quietly in your lap, head against your chest, plush thighs around you. Her eyelids flutter slowly, the last bits of tension in her body slowly ebbing as she enjoys the closeness. There is a faint smile on her face. Being in your arms is a treasure she will never tire of, no matter how much she pretends such things annoy her. You are her light, her anchor, her everything. Her own quiet corner in an otherwise chaotic world.

"Not bad, huh? Taking a rest?" "Mhm." Eula replies sleepily, leaning more of her weight into your touch.

"You make a good pillow." She teases, though the words are said in a completely serious tone. She stretches her arms behind her, arching her back in a way that makes her lean even more away from you.

"But, if I recall correctly," she mumbles. "We're supposed to be training. Didn't you want to… what was it…see me in action?" Her eyes are half-lidded, a smirk twitching at the corner of her mouth.

"Or was that just an excuse to lure me into your arms?" She teases, shifting in your lap to get comfortable.

"Though I won't complain about being close like this, either…" She drapes one arm over your shoulder.

"I suppose you could just keep me here all day and call it a training session"

NEW ADDED: Èmilie

"You've been working harder lately..." Your fingers run through her short hair, "But you still smell amazing." Émilie blushes a little at your praise, melting into your embrace. She buries her face in your chest, as if to hide her embarrassment. Her arms are wrapped around you, slender fingers tracing idle shapes against your back.

"I… I suppose I have been working a little more lately," she agrees quietly. "There's been a lot to do...so many orders...requests" She nuzzles against your shoulder, taking a moment to breathe in your scent. She sighs softly; you always smell so good to her. It's better than any perfume she could ever make.

"I've missed this," she confesses shyly, almost sheepish. "Being with you..." Émilie tilts her head so her chin is resting on your shoulder, your chests pressed closely together. She's warm, softer than any pillow, with skin like liquid moonlight. She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of your heartbeat.

"I love you," she whispers, voice as fragile as thin ice, as though she dares not say the words any louder. With just a little maneuvering, Emilie rearranges herself so she's now straddling you, her body perfectly settled in your lap.

"Can we… stay like this, for a while?" she asks, not opening her eyes, keeping her face pressed close against your body. "Please?"

"For as long as you please."

Faruzan

Faruzan rests her head against your chest, curling up against you like a cat. This is her favourite position. She can listen to your heartbeat, feel your breath with every rise and fall of your chest. She is content here. Your presence soothes her. She loves feeling small, wrapped up in your arms like this. Faruzan lets out a sigh, nuzzling her head against you and pressing her ear to your chest. She can hear the beat of your heart. It's slow and steady. A comforting sound, as familiar as the tides or the stars in the sky.

"Can we stay like this a little longer?" Her voice is quiet, just a breath against your skin.

"For as long as you want." Faruzan hums, then she pulls herself closer to you, draping one slender leg across your hips. Her arms find their way around your waist, holding tight, as if afraid to let go even for a moment.

She sighs again, closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of you.  "Forever," she whispers.

"That's a long time." "Not long enough," she mumbles against you.

"I could stay like this until the sun burns out, and still want more."

Fischl - aged up

Fischl is cuddled up in your arms, her head resting on your chest. Her blonde hair is spilling out across you and she's holding her body close to yours. She's so soft in your arms, warm like a furnace, and for her this is the greatest comfort she could ever have.

"Your skin…" She mutters. "You feel so lovely. You feel like… like…" She doesn't know how to describe the feeling, it makes her eyes flutter closed in bliss. Fischl’s hands reach out, tracing over your skin with a delicacy that defies description.

“I have never felt anything so…" Her sentence trails off, voice dying in her throat like a bird in the morning air. Her skin pebbles as your flesh brushes against her, each touch as if a piece of the divine.

"Is this a sin?" She whispers, the first of the words spoken in a long while. Her fingers hesitate on your chest, trembling. "What is a sin?" "This," she murmurs.

She can feel the heat of your body, the way your limbs press against hers, the way your skin feels like summer sun. It's so overwhelming, the sensations flooding her mind. Her hands move against your skin, tracing over your stomach, your chest, your arms— she can't keep her fingers still.

"Touching you, like this. Being close to you, like this. Is this sacrilege?"

"Nope."

"Not even a little? Even a hint of blasphemy is acceptable?"

Her head rests against your neck, her breath warm against your skin. She doesn’t know if your answer is correct or not, but the mere thought that this is acceptable— it is enough to make her heart soar in her chest.

“This feels…” her body presses even closer to yours, arms wrapping tighter around your frame.

“This feels divine. If sin is this sweet…”

Freminet

"Todays dive...was it good?" He lets out a soft hum of affirmation as he nestles closer into your embrace, his muscles relaxing in your presence.

"It was…" He murmurs. "It was good. Peaceful. I was just… thinking."

He closes his eyes and lays his head against your chest, sighing contentedly. The sound that escapes his lips is warm, soft like the caress of skin against skin.

"Thinking?" Freminet nods, though the motion is lazy and halfhearted. He can hardly be bothered to move when he's in your embrace. When he's safe.

"Just thinking…" He mutters again.

He opens his eyes slowly, his gaze rising to look up at you. A brief pause, as if he's deciding on what to say, then: "...about you." He shifts against you slightly, resting his ear against your chest and closing his eyes again. Your warmth makes him feel so relaxed, so safe. It's a strange feeling, being vulnerable. But for you, he'll risk it any time.

He's silent for another moment, just enjoying your presence and the sound of your breathing. Then, gently: "... can I tell you something?"

"Hm?" He takes a slow, shaky breath, like he's gathering the words in his mouth before he lets them escape. When he speaks, his voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

"I…"

He hesitates, and his gaze lowers as his face warms. How does he voice this? How can he articulate the feelings in his heart into coherent sentences?

"I think... I may... be in love with you."

Furina

The question is unnecessary, stupid, but you can't help but ask again, "Did you have maccaroni again today?" Furinas eyes flutter, and she lets out a soft breath.

“Perhaps…” She whispers, burying her face into your chest. “How did you know?” "Cause you have it everyday." “Can you blame me?” She mutters back, her voice slightly muffled by the position she places herself in. She pulls herself a little closer. “It’s my favourite.”

"...Fair enough." “Hey… I’m not that predictable, am I?” Furina murmurs, her voice now more like a pout than a whisper. She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes full of faux-hurt. Nothing, no answer. You just look at her, that's answer enough. Furina lets out a sigh and buries herself back into your chest, hiding her face— no longer pouting, but definitely still annoyed.

“…You still like me, though… right?” She mumbles. "Yes." The words cause Furina to shiver— that soft, shuddering shudder that rocks her body everytime you praise her. She lets out a shaky breath.

“And you’re not… tired of the macaroni? Or… of me?”

"No."

"....good."

Ga Ming - aged up

He is in your arms, cuddled against your chest, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. He lets out a small whimper now and then, a response to the sharp bursts of pain from the newly-scraped spot on his hand. But mostly, he’s quiet. His expression is one of pure bliss, face completely relaxed as he simply lets you hold him.

"You should be more careful..." “I know,” he murmurs, eyes closed in contentment. He can feel the steady rise and fall of your chest, warm skin pressed against your skin.

“But I’m also clumsy,” he laughs, a small half-smile curling his lips. “I’m not good at being careful.” His lips brush against your collarbone as he speaks, each word a puff of warm breath. He buries his face into your neck. The touch of your skin is soothing, like honey on inflamed skin.

“You’re not mad at me, are you?” His words take on a hint of pleading — a small note of worry. Gaming hates disappointing you.

"No, never." You reassur him. His shoulders relax a little, the taut line of his spine beginning to bend. “Good,” he mutters softly. “I don’t want you to be mad at me.” He tilts his head, pressing a kiss against the side of your neck. The gesture is affectionate, full of gentle tenderness. "I could never be mad at you." “I know,” Gaming breathes, his voice soft as a summer breeze. He moves a hand, slowly trailing his fingers across your arm — an aimless, gentle movement — while he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“I didn’t mean for it to happen,” he continues, a hint of sadness in his words, “I’m clumsy sometimes, and… and I scrape my body up like an idiot...but hey you always patch me up!"

Ganyu

Ganyu nuzzles into your touch, her head resting against the crook of your shoulder, her horns brushing against your skin. She lets out a content hum and relaxes against you, a quiet sigh passing her lips. Her eyes are half-lidded, a sleepy look on her face.

"Mm..."

She seems comfortable, her form loose and lax against you. It is rare to see her like this—unguarded, vulnerable, soft. "This is nice," she mumbles quietly.

Ganyu pulls herself a little closer, her head resting against the hollow of your shoulder. For a moment, she is silent, then she speaks again.

"Can we stay like this?" Her question is soft, the words whispered.

"Mhm, of course." Ganyu's eyes flutter closed almost immediately, shutting against the outside world so only you can be seen. Her breaths become slow and steady, the rise and fall of her chest steady and even.

She's comfortable with you, relaxed in your presence. You can hear her heart beating in the silence, a soft thump-thump that sounds just a little faster than usual. After a moment, one of Ganyu's eyes open, just a crack. She looks up at you, watching through her half-lidded gaze.

"You won't go, will you?" She whispers, voice still heavy and slow with approaching sleep.

"No." "You promise?"

For a brief moment, Ganyu's arm tightens its grip on you, her hand clenching a little more firmly against your shirt. She wants you close.

"I promise."

Gorou

"Tiring day?" "Yes..." Gorou closes his eyes as you hold him, shifting closer until he can lay his head against your chest.

Today had been tiring, and he'd longed for your presence since the moment he woke up. The ache in his chest is soothed by being in your arms. For the first time in hours, Gorou finds himself completely at peace. Gorou feels your fingers gently run through his hair, and his tail can't help but betray him. His ears twitch as it starts to speed up, tail wagging against you as your fingertips move against his scalp in a soothing rhythm.

Your touch is all he's longed to feel since he woke up, and now that he's got it, he's never letting it go. Gorou lets out a quiet sound as you continue running your fingers over his head, a sound that's somewhere between a hum of content and a whimper. It's a vulnerable sound, one that's not usually so easily coaxed out of the stern, stoic general.

"Please..." he says quietly, closing his eyes as his tail thumps against the mattress. "Don't stop..." Gorou's tail thumps against the mattress once more, almost like a reflex. He buries his face into your shoulder as you coo the words "good boy."

Being praised by you is, without a doubt, his favorite thing. It feels so good to hear your voice say the words so warmly, like it's some treasured treat for him and only him.

"Your good boy..."

Hu Tao

Hu Tao is resting her head against your chest, snuggled up against you like a cat. She's enjoying the feeling of being in your arms, of being close to you in a snug, private place such as a coffin. "I could get used to this," she says, a hint of teasing in her tone. "I wonder how you'd react if I just decided to live in here from now on?" Her voice is light, casual. She's amused by the idea, enjoying the mental image of spending more time like this— resting against you in a small, confined space, like a pair of lovers trapped in an eternal embrace.

"Imagine, every time you open the coffin, there I am. No warning. I just move in and make myself at home." Hu Tao chuckles softly, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your arms.

"...ehhh no thank you." Hu Tao pouts at your response, her expression theatrical and deliberately over-the-top.

"Oh, come on. It'd be fun!" She protests. "Just think of how surprised you'd be every day. You'd never know if I was going to pop out and say hi."

She grins mischievously. "And think of all the extra cuddles we could have in such a cramped little space. Isn't that worth something?" She bats her eyelashes at you, a picture-perfect image of innocence and coyness that belies the mischief in her eyes.

"And just imagine how shocked the others would be if they found out I was living here too! Can you picture Zhongli just stumbling upon me sleeping in here?" She chuckles at the mental image. "He'd probably go into cardiac arrest before I even opened my eyes!His poor old heart really wouldn't be able to take it. But just think of how entertaining it'd be to see him flustered like that."

She sighs, her mischievous smile softening into a more sincere expression. "Although, I suppose I can see the appeal of a big, fancy palace... Especially if it means you'll let me snuggle up against you like this whenever I want."

Jean

A soft sigh leaves Jean's mouth, her shoulders relaxing instantly as she sinks into your embrace. She buries her face against your shoulder, arms wrapping around your waist. Her eyes flutter closed, blue pupils disappearing like sapphires beneath a sea.

She feels like she can finally breathe for the first time in forever like this— safe in your arms, cradled against your chest. For once, the world beyond the two of you doesn't exist— nor does it matter.

"Long week, huh?" Jean lets out a sigh, the sound drawn from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes and nods, her head falling forward to rest against your shoulder again.

Her words are soft, muffled by her face being pressed flush against your body. "Long days, long nights... so much paperwork, and I still haven't gotten through all of it." She pulls you a little closer, as if needing something to hold onto. Exhaustion seeps into her voice, even as it remains quiet and soothing.

"But... it's better now. This — you."

Jean tilts her head, her face buried against the crook of your neck. Her words brush against your skin like feathers, every exhale a small caress.

"Being with you always makes it better."

Heizou

"Did you solve the case yet?" You carefully ask. Heizou groans, lifting his head from your shoulder. He runs a hand through his hair, messy and ruffled from laying on the grass.

"I might as well be asking a rock if it's solved the case," he mutters, flopping back down against you, arms sliding around your waist. His head drops against your shoulder again, and Heizou nuzzles against your neck. "I'm getting nowhere with this damn case." Heizou sighs, his breath hot against your skin. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your shoulder again, burying himself in your touch.

"Everyone involved seems to be lying," he mumbles, his voice a whisper. "And I can't dig up any other clues. It's like trying to crack open a damn rock with my head." "You have a hard head," you murmur, teasing.

Heizou raises his head, shooting you a weak glare. "Shut up," he mumbles. "I'll put you through an interrogation, see how quickly you snap then." "Wanna ask if my love for you is legit?" "Yes." His reply is instant, muttered against your neck. Heizou's voice vibrates against your skin, a low hum that seems more suited for a cat than a person.

"I wanna know just what I have to do to hear you say those words." He burrows in close, arms wrapping tighter around you. "Those three words."

"I love you?" "Yes." His answer is barely more than a whisper, a simple breath of sound that puffs hot against your skin.

His grip around you tightens, and one of Heizou's hands lifts to cradle your cheek. Fingers brush against your hair, his touch tender, as if holding something precious.

"Again. Say it again."

"I love you."

"Again."

Itto

Itto nuzzles his face into your stomach as the pair of you lay together, his arms pulling you closer against himself. He is a comfortable heat to your side, his body pressing flush against you under the blanket that covers you both.

As he lies there, his eyes are almost half-lidded. He can barely keep them open, but he feels so warm and safe laying against you, and the sound of your voice and the heat of your body soothe him down to his very soul. "Itto, you'll suffocate down there." "I don't care," he murmurs, not moving a muscle. He buries his face in your shoulder, soaking in your touch, your scent.

He could suffocate this way, and he'd gladly do it. "Please don't make me move." Itto's pleading voice is muffled, his words spoken against your skin. "Hold me. I've missed you."

"Ok." Your simple answer is enough to send Itto's chest fluttering. The feel of your skin beneath his fingers is as soothing as a cool summer breeze, and he relishes in the proximity of your body, the smell of your clothes, the way your hand rests in his hair.

Itto is quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling, matching the rhythm of your breaths. Then— "I love you," he whispers into your skin.

Kazuha

Kazuha is cuddling with you, his head resting on your shoulder. He seems utterly relaxed for once, his eyes half closed, expression soft. He's murmuring something under his breath, but you can't quite make out the words. As you try and make out what he's mumbling, the sounds slowly become clearer, until Kazuha is murmuring the words of poetry to you softly, the words flowing from him as if they were always meant to be your personal whisper in the night.

Kazuha's eyes meet yours. He blinks, pausing in the reciting of his poem. His head tilts a little, white and red hair falling over one eye, and a slow smile spreads across his lips.

"You look beautiful, y’know," he murmurs, tilting his head to rest on your shoulder again. He buries his face against your collarbone, closing his eyes blissfully. Kazuha wraps an arm around you, tugging you closer to his body. He burrows his face deeper into you, inhaling your scent. A low noise of contentment rumbles in his chest, like a cat purring.

"I'm glad that you're mine," his voice is low and raspy, barely louder than a whisper.

Kaeya

Kaeya rests his head against your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin, his body almost too warm in the summer heat.  He wraps both arms around your waist, burying his face against your neck. He breathes in your scent like a man starved, filling his lungs with nothing but you. "I'm such a fool," he mumbles into your skin. His words send little puffs of heat dancing across your shoulder, as if he is breathing against it.

"You have me wrapped around your little finger, you know."

His grip tightens slightly, holding you a little closer. "Do I?" Kaeya nods, tilting his head to bite playfully at your ear. "Completely," he says, his voice low. "Whipped, even. You have no idea, do you?" His tongue flicks against your earlobe, the touch like a butterfly landing on your skin for just an instant. He lifts his head from your shoulder, pulling back just enough to fix you with an intense, heated glance.

His eyes are darker now, his pupils dilated slightly.

"You know exactly what you do to me," he says, his voice dipping. "Don't pretend otherwise."

"Caught me in the act."

"I knew it."

Kaveh

You both are laying on your very cold, very hard marble floor. "What is it you dont like about my ceiling?" "It's too opulent and… busy." Kaveh glances up at the ceiling.

"I would've preferred something much more simplistic," he admits bluntly. "No unnecessary frills. Just something sturdy that stands the test of time."

He turns his gaze back to you. "I've seen ceilings in ruins older than your palace that are more aesthetically pleasing," he teases, a hint of a smirk on his lips. "Ouch, my poor architects all those years ago." "I never said that I blame them."

Kaveh reaches a hand up, and traces a line along the edge of your jaw, his touch trailing down to your throat, his fingers gentle on your skin. "I simply think the architect could've done their job more effectively."

He rolls over, shifting so he's half covering you with his body, leaning over you.

"I could have thought of a much better design." He says, his smirk widening.

"More modern?" "More timeless." He corrects, his hand shifting to the nape of your neck, tilting your head back slightly.

"That's the mistake a lot of you modern architects make," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a near whisper.

"No sense for history. No regard for subtlety. Everything is too flashy now."

He leans down, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear.

"I think it's a bit gaudy. All you modern architects are obsessed with making things look expensive rather than making them look good."

Keqing

Keqing, who is utterly exhausted and a little clingy due to her working hours, tucks herself into you as if you are her lifeline, her safe haven.

"You smell nice," she mumbles, her eyes already half-lidded as she buries her face into your neck. Despite herself, she lets out a small yawn, her muscles growing loose once more as she lets her weight be supported by her favorite pillow: you.

"Mm," she hums to herself, snuggling closer to you under your blankets. A quiet shiver rolls through her when your fingers run over her back. This moment of peace is, in a way, unusual for Keqing. In public, she is often the picture of authority and determination.

At your side, she is a completely different girl; vulnerable and clingy and needy.

"Need… headpats…" she murmurs, her words a muffled hum against your skin.

You can't help but laugh, "Headpats? Sure." A small breath leaves her when your hand lifts to start petting her head, running through her soft, purple hair, careful not to cause any pain.

"Mmm," she sighs. She seems satisfied like this, tucked safely into the warmth of your side, cuddled and doted on like you would a beloved house cat.

Kirara

Kirara is leaning back against you, resting her head on your chest.

She can hear your heartbeat, steady as a drum within your chest, like a song against her ear. Her eyes are half-lidded, but her tails are restless as she relaxes against you. The touch of your hand against her hair and skin has her purring gently. She looks like she could fall asleep at any moment, but there is one thing she wants to speak of first.

"I can hear your heartbeat, you know," she mumbles. Kirara closes her eyes and focuses on the sound of your heart, your chest rising and falling against her skin. It’s almost a comfort; a constant reminder that you are alive, here with her, within her reach. She lets out another quiet purr, resting her cheek against your chest as she focuses on the sound, listening to the steady beat of your heart.

"It’s strangely comforting," she murmurs, the words barely more than a breath against your skin. There is silence for a moment, but Kirara breaks it with a low, soft hum.

“I love the sound of your heart beating,” she admits quietly. Her voice is barely more than a whisper, her words flowing like a breeze through the room.

“It’s slow and steady.” She turns her head and presses her ear against your chest again, listening to it. “Calm.”

"You know…" she murmurs, turning her head further so that her next words are spoken into your skin, against your chest.

"Your heartbeat sounds like home. Better than a box for sure."

Klee - platonic

"I dare you to blow up my garden again." You softly warn her. Klee winces at the reminder of her past transgressions. She looks up at you, eyes wide and pleading. Her bottom lip quivers for a moment, her usual confident facade falling as quickly as a house of cards caught in a summer breeze.

"I…" She swallows hard. "I won't," she admits. Her gaze darts around, taking in the room. "I won’t blow up your garden again." She has every intention of keeping to her promise, she truly does. For a while, she manages to contain herself and her childish urges. But then, the itch to explode something appears. Her fingers tingle for a moment as she remembers the feeling of fire beneath her fingertips. As if possessed, she grips a fistful of your clothes.

"Can I blow up something else?" She asks cautiously.

"No-!!"

"Nawww..."

Kokomi

Kokomi's body is warm against your own, her skin a soft canvas against your own flesh. She is quiet, her breathing steady as she leans into your touch.

The scent of flowers wafts from her hair, drifting on the air and enveloping the two of you in a light perfume. She reaches out with a trembling hand, tracing the planes of your face as she marvels at your beauty. She lets out a quiet shudder, every breath a soft whisper that floats on the night air. Your touch alone is enough to send shivers up the length of her spine, each gentle caress making her skin sing.

Her eyes wander over your face as she reaches up to touch your cheek, her slender fingers tracing the angle of your jaw. The touch of your skin against her own makes her heart constrict, her pulse quickening as she lays her hand on top of yours.

"Grace," she murmurs, her voice like silk against your ear. "My Grace." Her voice drops even lower than a whisper, her breath warm against your ear. The word is spoken like an endearment, the syllables rolling from her tongue one by one.

"You are the personification of grace," she murmurs, a soft smile pulling at the corners of her lips. "Gentle and lovely in all your divinity..."

She lets out a soft breath, her arm squeezing around your waist involuntarily as she buries her face in the crook of your neck. "Mine," she whispers.

Layla

Layla melts into your embrace, her blue gradient hair fanning out across the sheets. She buries her face against your neck, breathing in the scent of you like an addict. After all, you are her addiction. She doesn't speak for a long moment. The feeling of your body against hers is all that matters.

"I love you," she whispers against the crook of your shoulder, quiet as the wind. Like a prayer of reverence.

"I love you too." Layla nuzzles closer, closing her eyes and just enjoying the feeling of your skin against hers. It's almost enough to make her purr like a cat. She tilts her head up so that her lips brush against the underside of your jaw, then your neck.

"I could do this forever," she mumbles against your flesh. Her mouth makes a slow journey against your skin, trailing along your jaw, down to your collar. She kisses each patch of skin as if she's worshipping at an altar, her lips against you like a prayer.

A small shiver rolls through Layla's body. The feeling of your flesh under her mouth… it's so divine.

"My guiding star."

Lisa

Lisa feels absolutely relaxed in your arms, in the library, her head propped up on your shoulder as she cuddles up against your chest.

Her eyes are closed, a blissful smile on her face as she listens to the sound of your heartbeat. It’s a sound as familiar to her as her own name, and each thump reassures her that you’re there. That you’re safe and in her arms.

A contented sigh shudders through her lips. “My cutie,” she murmurs, and she nuzzles into the crook of your neck. Lisa’s breath is slow and even as she buries her face against your neck. Her entire body is loose and content, melting into you like candlewax as she soaks up the comfort of simply being by your side.

The room is silent around you. The only sound is the steady rhythm of her breathing, and the occasional crackle as the fire in the hearth flickers in and out.

“I love you,” she whispers. The words are spoken against your skin, her voice muffled and warm. "I love you too."  Lisa lifts her head just enough to look up at you, a soft smile on her face. Her eyes, usually so lively and mischievous, regard you with a sweetness reserved only for you. An affection that only you have earned.

“You are perfect,” she murmurs, voice tinged with reverential adoration. “Absolutely perfect. You know that, don’t you?”

"A little cutie you are-!" She squeezes your cheeks.

Lumine (somehow Lumine disappeared, now shes vomit green I'm sorry)

"Paimon not here today?" Lumine let's out a soft sound at that, practically melted into your body. "Just us," she agrees, her hands fisting even tighter in the fabric of your clothes. She's already so close to you, yet she wants to be closer.

Her grip on you tightens, one of her legs intertwining with yours. A moment later, her lips are back at your skin, pressing kisses against your neck.

She's practically glued to you, practically moulding herself into you. It seems to be taking every bit of her self-control not to press every part of her body against you.

Her hands move to grasp your waist, pulling herself impossibly closer.

"Eager today, huh?" Her answer is a low whine against your skin.

"Yes," she admits finally, her voice a whisper against your body. "More than usual."  Her head lifts just enough to press a needy kiss to your collarbone. She pulls herself closer, pressing herself as much as she can into you.

"Do you know how desperately I ache to feel you?" she murmurs, her voice muffled against your skin. "Every part of me longs for you. I cannot spend a single moment without thinking of you. I need you."

"Need to always be with you, forever."

Lynette

She is wrapped up in your arms, her head resting upon your chest. Her breathing is steady, slow. The soft thrum of a purr hums inside her chest, steady and calm, like a content little engine.

"I…" she starts, but the words die on her tongue. Instead, she nuzzles herself deeper into your embrace, a shudder of quiet ecstasy rippling up her spine. Lynettes breathing deepens as she buries her face into you. Her eyes slide shut, her body molding to your own, soft and pliable like melted butter. Her hands fist the material of your clothes, holding you close.

"I love you," she whispers into your skin. She feels safe here, in your arms. She feels as though no harm could ever reach her while she is encircled by you, and her heart nearly sings with contentment. Lynette presses impossibly closer to you, her body practically melting into your embrace. The low hum of her purr is a constant, steady vibration inside her chest.

Her head lifts a little, and she buries her nose into the crook of your neck. She inhales, taking in the scent of you.

"You…" she whispers, her voice soft as a summer wind. She doesn't continue. For a moment, she loses herself in your embrace, her mind going quiet, filled with nothing but the feeling of you.

"You."

"Me?"

"You make me like this...like a damn cat."

Lyney

"That show was amazing, as always." "Thank you." Lyney's face turns red as he is showered in your praise. Despite the fact he knows he's good—he is a trained performer, after all—the words coming from you always make him flustered.

He pulls himself closer to you, burying his head into your side like a cat.

"Your compliments are too much, love," he mumbles, his hot breath fanning against your skin. For a long moment he just leans against you, relishing in the feeling of having you here, with him—close enough that he can feel your heartbeat.

"You know," he begins, his voice still a mumble against your body.

"I have a new trick I've been working on in secret." "Ohhh tell me!" "It's still a work in progress," he admits, pulling back so he can get a glimpse of your face. His eyes rake up and down your expression, like a painter memorising their muse.

"I haven't perfected it, but I think it may very well be the most beautiful trick I've ever conjured." A smirk plays at the corners of lyney's mouth as he says the words. He's still looking at you, his eyes studying your face like a sculptor.

"Perhaps, if you'd like," he says slowly, "I could show you?"

Mika - aged up

Mika is held against your body like a treasure, his head tucked into the crook of your shoulder. His body is pressed close to yours, slender but surprisingly strong.

He clings to you like a drowning man, his hands gripping your clothes tightly, his face nuzzling into your neck. He mumbles something incoherent under his breath but it’s lost in the tangle of his hair. His voice is low, quiet, barely audible over the sound of his racing heart.

"Hm? What?"

He says it again, words barely more than an exhale against the sensitive skin of your throat. Mika tries to speak a few more times, then finally mumbles something somewhat legible against your neck.

"I…" he starts, then stops, his voice cracking. "I love you…"

"Oh? I love you too."

He buries his face deeper in your shoulder, hiding a shiver that rolls over his body at your words. Mika's arms tighten around you, holding you tight to his body as if you will disappear if he lets go.

He whispers those three little words again, and again, and again, as if it is a prayer and he is on his knees in a confessional. "I love you, I love you, I love you…"

Mona

Mona lays next to you, her face tilted up to the sky. One of her hands is grasping yours, her fingers intertwining with yours. In the other, she holds a star chart, pointing at various constellations with a slight smile as she explains them.

"That one's called the Wanderer... and that one is the Hunter." Her voice is soft in the night air like a whisper of wind.

"And that one...." Her smile widens a little. "That is the Astrologist."

"That's you-!" you beam. She nods her head. "Yes. That is me."

She turns her head to look at you, her hair fanning out across the grass in an arc of stars. There's a soft expression on her face, a peacefulness in the way that she looks at you, her eyes half-lidded and her lips just barely upturned in a smile, as if she were on the verge of falling asleep. "When I was young," she says, her voice soft and warm like honey, "I used to gaze up at the stars for hours, dreaming of the future and how I would chart them."

She moves closer to you, her body pressing up against yours, her head resting on your shoulder.

"I never thought I'd have someone to look at them with."

Nahida

Nahida is laying in your arms, resting her head on your shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and a soft sigh brushes across your collarbone as she nuzzles closer to you, seeking your warmth.

"I…" she begins, but her voice falters. Her hand fidgets nervously in yours, fingers interwoven. For a moment, she merely listens to the sound of your breathing, allowing the rhythm of it to soothe her. "May I ask you something?"

"Yes?" She fidgets again for a moment, biting on her lower lip.

"Would… do you…" she falters, pausing to collect her thoughts. "Do you care about me?" she finally asks, the words little more than a whisper. Nahida sounds small in that moment. Fragile. Vulnerable.

"You're my most trusted friend...my best friend." Nahida's shoulders relax slightly at your words, some of the tension melting from her muscles. She takes a quiet breath, the slight shift causing a strand of silvery hair to fall over her face.

She looks... relieved. Happy.

"Do you really think of me as your best friend?" she asks quietly. There's a hint of a smile in her voice, the sound as soft as a summer breeze.

"Because...you're my best friend too."

Navia

"You're pretty." you mumble. Navia curls up against you, hands resting on your stomach, her head tucked under your chin. She sighs quietly, nuzzling closer to you, and shuts her eyes.

"You think I'm pretty?" She asks, the question muffled slightly against your skin.

"Mhmmm." A soft, quiet hum escapes her as she settles closer against you, her body molding against your own as if she’d always belonged there.

After a few moments of blissful silence, she speaks again, her voice a gentle murmur.

“You’re even prettier,” she says softly, her hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer still. Navia can’t help but hold you tighter, her limbs wrapping around you like a clinging vine. She seems to melt against you, her breathing slow and deep, as if being this close to you was as natural and essential as breathing.

“I wish I could stay like this forever,” she admits, her voice low, as if even a raised voice would break the fragile, tender quiet that’s fallen over them both.

“Just us, like this. Where nothing else could touch us.”

Neuvillette

He doesn’t even know when he started crying. He feels your hand on his cheek, the touch of your skin against his skin. His breath stutters in his chest, and he swallows. His throat is dry. Your touch is cool in the warmth of the room, like water in a desert.

He leans forward, buries his face in the crook of your neck. The tension in his body eases, and his arm curls around your waist without him thinking of it.

"Who knew that stubbing your toe can make a grown man cry this much." Neuvillette has the decency to look embarrassed by his own tears, hiding his face in your shoulder. "It hurts," he mumbles, sounding like an overgrown child whining about a skinned knee.

Outside, the rain continues to fall in fat droplets, pattering against the roof. It is as if the gods themselves are weeping alongside him. Neuvillettes grip on your hips tightens. His hands pull you closer into him, as if he's trying to meld his body with yours. The rain outside is deafening, drowning out his quiet whimper.

"It hurts," he repeats, voice growing a little hysterical.

"Why does it hurt so much?"

Nilou

"You gotta teach me this new dance someday." Nilou's head rests against your shoulder, one cheek pressed into the crook of your neck. The scent of your hair is sweet and almost intoxicating, filling her head and drowning out all her other thoughts. Her hands run slowly, absentmindedly, up and down your sides.

She glances up and her lips brush the underside of your jaw. "Which new one?" she mumbles, nuzzling into you. "I can teach you...whenever you'd like."

"Mhm." Your response sends Nilou's heart racing. It feels like her chest has become a hummingbird's cage—every nerve in her body buzzing. She's hyper aware of your hand on her back, of your body against hers. Her cheeks burn.

"...Now?" she whispers, eyes fluttering open to look up at you. "Did you mean...right now?"

"No silly." Nilou almost sighs in relief, her shoulders relaxing as embarrassment washes over her. She doesn't know what she would have done if you'd said yes. Probably melted right there on the spot, judging by how her heart is acting at the mere thought of dancing for you.

"Oh, haha ok." Her voice is so soft it's almost a squeak, and she clears her throat after a moment, a sheepish look on her face.

Ningguang

She cuddles with you, resting her head against your shoulder. She’s holding onto your waist, her arms wrapping around you as if she will lose you at a moment’s notice. Her hands grip your robes, holding onto you tighter than a vice.

She nuzzles against your shoulder, her lips pressing soft kisses against your neck. She is quiet. She simply wants to bask in your presence, to melt in your embrace.

"It's been so long since we...cuddled like this." you mumble. "Mmm." Ningguang murmurs against the crook of your neck, her lips pressed directly to your skin. "It has."

Her arms tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It's like she's trying to meld your bodies into one. She buries her face in the crook of your shoulder, breathing in your scent. Ningguang lets out a sigh as her nose fills with your scent, her eyes closing as she lets out a soft, pleased noise. Her body molds against your's, her curves molding to your form in the most enticing way. She doesn't even bother hiding the fact that she's inhaling your scent.

"You're wearing the perfume I gave you..."

Noelle - aged up

Noelle is cuddled against you, sitting on the side of a grassy spot away from the hustle of the city. Her hair is loose today, flowing past her shoulders in a river of ash— and her eyes are brighter than they've been in years, almost glowing as her lips split into a tender smile.

"I'm glad you sought me out," she says, turning her head to face you. "Being so near you makes me feel like... like I can relax." The wind picks up, sweeping around you both and carrying the scent of honeyed mead and summer. A few stray strands of hair blow into her face, and she lifts a hand to push them away.

"Do you—" her voice is quiet. "Do you mind if I ask you something?"

"What is it?" "Promise me…" Noelle's voice falters as she speaks, just barely, but enough that her words waver for a moment.

She tightens her hold on your hand, as if afraid you're going to pull it away. This next part is more whisper than voice.

"Promise that you'll always choose me above all others."

"I'm aware it's a...rather selfish request of me...unlike me. But please..."

"I will, don't you worry."

When those two words reach her ears, she can't help but let out a quiet breath of pure relief. She squeezes your hand again, her fingers wrapping around yours even more tightly, holding on as though she's afraid you might disappear the moment she lets go. There's a sort of vulnerability in her now, but she doesn't show it on her face.

"Good," she murmurs. "That's what I needed to hear," she pauses.

"I don't want to ever lose you."

Pantalone

"Not bad, not bad." You say as you look around in his father big bedroom, "But my home is better...bigger." Pantalone huffs out a small laugh, the sound barely more than a huff of air against your skin. He wraps his arms around you tighter, pulling your body closer against his chest. The fact that you’re both lying together in his mansion is almost enough to make him believe he’s dreaming.

”Of course your palace is better,” he mutters, lips brushing against your ear. ”You’re there.”

Pantalone’s fingers are tracing light and gentle patterns across your skin, the touch only barely noticeable, like a whisper against your body. For a long moment, he is content to simply hold you— and then he can’t help but whisper into your ear, so softly you might think you’ve imagined it.

“You look beautiful in my arms like this… Your skin looks beautiful in moonlight… do you know that?”

"Now I do." A quiet chuckle escapes Pantalone’s lips, rolling against your ear like a gentle breeze. He tightens his grip around you, relishing the feeling of holding you tight to his chest.

When he speaks, his voice is barely more than a low murmur, the sound as smooth as silk.

"Just as I thought," he says, the words almost more felt than heard.

"You look the most beautiful when you’re in my arms."

Pierro

Pierro is curled against you. He’s pressed tight against your back, the heat from his skin bleeding through his clothes onto your own. He has a firm arm wrapped around your waist, keeping your body against his. His head is rested against the back of your neck, his breathing steady, but you can feel the rapid beating of his heart like a drum against your shoulder blades.

"You're always so busy." There’s a huff against your neck, Pierro’s breath warm and steady against your skin. His hold tightens slightly, pulling your frame even closer against his. You can feel his lips against your ear as he speaks, his voice low and quiet.

“Busy, yes.” His voice is hoarse, as if he’s struggling to find the right words, “but never too busy for you.” One of his arms shifts until a large hand gently rests against your stomach, his fingers splayed across the bare skin of your exposed midriff. The tips of his calloused fingers are a sharp contrast to your soft stomach; his thumb starts to brush along your skin, as if he can’t keep his touch from seeking out contact.

His body is hot against yours, but you can feel some of the tension seeping from his muscles as his hold on you slowly relaxes. You’d almost think he was asleep, if it weren’t for the soft whisper against your ear. His fingertips trace the edge of your collarbone before he speaks, his touch so gentle that it’s almost as if he’s scared you’re a dream… as if you could disappear if he presses too fiercely. It’s all in a stark contrast to his usual behaviour, and you can feel the reverence in the way that his fingers glide across your skin.

“You’re the only thing that can distract me,” he admits, his voice low and quiet. “You’re the only thing that can get my mind off my duties…”

"I'd rather be busy with you, than with my paperwork."

Pulcinella - give the old man some love pls

Pulcinella lays there, nestled against you, his arm curled around your middle as you hold him close.

His face is buried against your neck. He's warm, his skin against yours soothing. The tension that usually clings to his body is slowly ebbing away the longer you both lay there, a quiet calm enveloping the both of you.

"This is nice…" he whispers against your skin, "It's been long since I had contact like this."

"Far too long." Pulcinella closes his eyes and presses closer against you. He nuzzles his face further against your neck, almost like a cat seeking affection.

"You always make me feel so…" he pauses, searching for the right word. "At peace," he murmurs finally, his voice muffled against your skin. “My thoughts are quiet,” he admits, his hand tracing light, absentminded patterns over your side. “I’m not… thinking. About anything. I’m not worrying. I’m calm.”

His lips brush against your skin as he speaks. He closes the last few inches between the two of you, until his body is pressed right up against yours.

"Thank you for...taking some of the weight of my shoulders."

Qiqi - platonic

The contact of your skin pressed against hers makes something loosen in Qiqis chest. Her shoulders relax, her muscles unclenching. Her eyes flutter closed. She leans into the touch, seeking more, craving it as desperately as a man lost in the desert craves fresh water.

She feels safe with you; she feels comfortable. She is not at ease in most places, but in your arms, her body is gentle like silk.

"Comfy..." "Comfy?" "Very," Qiqi murmurs, her voice a whisper.

She scoots a little closer to your body, burrowing into your warmth. The contact between you both steals a sigh from her lips, and she lets her head fall against your chest. The even sound of your breathing and the steady rise and fall of your chest are more soothing than a lullaby. Qiqi's heartbeat slows as she listens to each inhale and exhale, and soon her eyes are growing heavy.

Her arms wrap loosely around your form, and she drifts off into a deep, quiet sleep, tucked into your embrace.

Raiden

Ei hums, pleased at the sweet taste of strawberries, and at the feeling of you close against her. She savours the heat of your skin and the press of your body against her own. It's a quiet moment - no worship, no praise, just silent comfort and the two of you together. It's all Ei really needs; all she could ever ask for.

She nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck, her breath soft and warm against your pulse.

"Say ahhh~" Ei can't hide the hint of a smile that forms on her face, but she does not protest. She closes her eyes, parting her lips in a gentle "ahhh" to accept the strawberry you're holding up to her. She bites into the berry, enjoying the sweet tang of it on the soft flesh of her tongue. It's hard to suppress the small hum of approval, and a pinkish flush rises on Ei's cheeks as she eats. The tip of her tongue brushes against her lower lip, catching the last of the berry's juice. Then she opens her eyes once more to look at you.

Her eyes are soft, heavy-lidded and affectionate. The flush on her cheeks rises ever so slightly as her gaze meets yours, and Ei reaches out a hand to touch your face, the calloused pads of her fingers tracing over your cheek delicately.

"You always give me things that are so sweet," she murmurs, her voice as soft as a summer breeze.

"I love sweets."

Razor - aged up

He sighs softly as he feels you next to him. He presses closer, enjoying the familiar touch of your skin against his own. His body is relaxed, at ease in this moment of peace.

He turns to look up at you, eyes soft. Razors fingers brush against your skin, the pads of his fingertips leaving a trail of gooseflesh across your flesh as a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Razor's gaze turns reverent, his eyes tracing over the lines of your face. He gazes up at you adoringly, his expression filled with an almost desperate kind of adoration, like that of a man worshipping a god.

He runs his fingers through your hair lightly, his touch gentle but sure. He is careful, as if touching the most fragile of things. To him, you are fragile. Precious. Something to be protected at any cost.

"Razor...like this...like you."

"I love Razor too."

Rosaria

Rosaria is curled up against you, her hands grasping onto you, her head resting against your shoulder. The church is quiet and still, and everyone around them is blissfully asleep.

Yet she is wide-awake, her gaze fixed on your face as she gently plays with a strand of your hair. "Skipped chior again today?" Rosaria shifts against you in response, her body turning further into yours.

"You already knew I'd skip choir," she mutters softly, her forehead now almost touching your neck.

"Can't do thos bullshit. I fucking hate it, so stupid if you'd ask me. Not everyone can sing."

"But no one missed me anyway," she adds, a small smirk appearing on her face. She lets one of her hands slowly slide down your body, tracing a gentle path over your arm until her fingers reach yours.

"No one needs a nun who sneaks off at night," she says, but her words are dripping with affection.

"But I know you want that nun."

"That I do."

Sandrone

She melts into your embrace as you say her name. She shivers and nuzzles her head into the crook of your neck. She adores when you hold her like this. "I could stay here forever," she mumbles, her voice fuzzy with exhaustion. Sleep pulls at her like a tide, but she fights it, wanting to stay in your arms. Sandrone's head rests on your chest, listening to the gentle thump of your heartbeat. It's the most wonderful sound in the world, to her. She closes her eyes and hums contently, enjoying your presence and your warmth.

"You're mine," she murmurs, her voice soft and weary. She burrows into you, seeking more of your touch, more of your skin. "I don't give a fuck what others say, you're mine...period." Sandrone yawns and cuddles against you, feeling the exhaustion finally winning. She doesn't want to sleep, but it's too hard to fight off now.

"Yours," she whispers, as though it's a promise. Her eyes droop closed, but she mumbles one last thing.

"Love you."

Sara

Sara lies on your lap, her head resting in your legs and face nuzzling gently into your stomach. Her body is loose, tension seeping out of her body like sunlight melts the early frost. She lets out a soft sigh, a blissful hum escaping her throat.

"This is the best," she murmurs, her voice soft with sleep and adoration. "Being with you." Sara can hear the steady rhythm of your heart, the sound a soothing melody that she'd happily listen to forever. Her eyes close, a soft smile spreading across her lips. She burrows closer to you, her body seeking the warmth of your presence.

"Can we stay like this?" she asks, her voice quiet. "Just a while longer?"

"Mhm, of course." She hums in contentment, burying her face into the fabric of your clothes. She takes a deep breath, inhaling the scent of you, that familiar aroma she loves so much. Her body relaxes further in your lap, completely at your mercy.

Her heart rate slows, her breathing deep and even. She cuddles closer to you, her hands wrapping tight around your waist, holding you close like she never wants to let go.

"Maybe forever," she whispers.

Sayu - platonic

Sayu is blissfully content as you lie together. She is completely relaxed as her eyes shut and her breathing slows. In her sleep, she subconsciously curls closer to you, pressing her body against you as if she is searching for a way to merge her body with yours.

In her sleep, she breathes your name; quiet and soft, like the sound of the first flower unfurling and opening as the spring sun rises.

"...Mm...let's go...strong...together..." A small smile rests on her face all through her sleep. She continues to press herself against you as she slumbers, her arm wrapping around your waist and drawing you close, her head coming to rest on the crook of your shoulder. Her body is so small that she practically fits perfectly against you, cuddling together with her like this is natural.

Every now and then, she'll murmur your name again, her breath puffing out against your skin and sending goose bumps along with it.

Scaramouche

"This is… unnecessary." Scaramouche fidgets as he lies on top of you, arms around your middle. He is tense, a statue carved of white marble, each line set in stone.

Still, he doesn't try to leave. He only fidgets, as if adjusting his position will make it all feel just a little less embarrassing.

"And yet, here we are." Scaramouche let's out a long sigh, his breath warm against your skin. After a moment, he shifts again, rolling onto his back. But rather than moving away, he pulls you with him, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you with him until you are on top, laying against his chest.

"There," he mumbles. "Now do not try and move. Stay." He can feel the heat of your body as you lie against him, head tucked beneath his chin. The steady rise and fall of his chest betrays his feigning of indifference; his heart beats like the wings of a bird in a cage.

"Why are we doing this?" He asks, his voice quiet, but his arms remain around your shoulders, his hands clinging to you, pulling you closer.

"Oh right, to fucking practice physical touch."

Sethos

Sethos hums softly, his eyes slipping shut. His head lays in your lap, his body pressed against you. He can feel the heat of you under his skin. His body, for once, is at peace.

“This is nice,” he murmurs, and his arms wind around you, holding you even closer. "Glad you like it." “More than like it,” Sethos admits, letting his eyes close. He can hear your heart beating against his ear, the steady drum-like rhythm like a lullaby.

He nuzzles his head against you, enjoying the comfort he finds in the proximity.

“If we could stay like this forever,” he mumbles, “I’d want nothing more.” Sethos’ hand glides across your body, tracing your curves and lines in an almost reverent manner. His touch is light, as if he was touching fine china.

He shifts slightly against you, leaning up to murmur against your shoulder. “You’re so lovely,” he whispers, the words like a quiet breath of wind upon your skin.

"So fucking lovely."

Shenhe

Shenhes head rests gently against your chest, listening to the beating of your heart. The quiet sounds of your breathing, a steady in-and-out rhythm, soothe her like a lullaby. Being this close to you is something she never knew she craved, like a parched person being given water in the desert.

Shenhe sighs, content. "Your heartbeat is beautiful," she mumbles, nuzzling her cheek into your skin.

"Good?" She nods against your chest. "Yes," she whispers. "Good."

She closes her eyes, letting the steady beat of your heart lull her into a feeling of security. Shenhe gently runs her fingers along your arm, exploring the feeling of your skin under her touch, wanting to commit it to memory forever. She's never felt more at peace than in this moment in your arms. She tugs the blanket around herself, pressing herself closer to you. The silence between you is comfortable, a quietness that is soft and warm like freshly laundered blankets. Shenhe's hand finds yours, her fingers weaving between yours like vines. She holds onto you in your embrace, her body fitting perfectly against yours. She could stay like this for hours, a moment of peace in a lifetime of turmoil.

"We could do this more often."

Shinobu

"Youre tense..." She leans into your touch immediately, relaxing under your hands with a soft shudder. She lets out a low breath, closing her eyes and pressing her face into the crook of your neck. "I'm sorry," she whispers against your skin. "Being near you simply… makes me a bit nervous."

She pauses, then she laughs quietly.

"I'm not used to this." She's silent for a few moments, inhaling the scent of your skin and simply listening to your heartbeat, and then she nuzzles against you again.

"You smell nice," she murmurs, her voice a soft whisper against your shoulder. "You always smell so good. Like flowers. Better than those guys from the gang."

"And your hair really soft." "Mm..." her grip on your arms tightens ever so slightly at the mention of her hair. The tips of her ears look faintly pink, though it's impossible to say if it's from the heat or because of embarrassment.

"You think so?"

There's a note of insecurity in her voice. She's not quite looking at you, but instead just resting her head against your shoulder again, like she's hiding.

"It's not… too unkempt?"

"Not at all. It's perfect."

Sigewinne - platonic

"How are your studies." "I'm doing my best." Sigewinne responds, her voice quiet. She's curled up against you, her head resting on your chest, listening to the comforting sound of your heartbeat.

"Human bodies are so fragile," she whispers, her hand splayed across your torso. "No wonder they're so scared of everything. Their hearts beat so quickly. And their skin is warm," she continues, eyes falling closed. She focuses the full force of her senses on the steady drumming of your pulse, on the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

"You're so warm." She murmurs, burying her face into your neck.

"Maybe I should start studying you!"

Succrose

Succrose's hair is splayed loosely over her face, her head resting on your chest as you cuddle. No matter how many times you hold her, she never gets used to the touch. It's too much; you're too much. She can't get enough.

Her fingers cling to you as though you are water in the desert, her skin pressing against yours as if she needs you to be alive. "I love this," she admits, the words whispered as if they're a secret. Her breath is warm against your skin. Her hair is like silk running through your fingers. She's more relaxed than usual, her body soft and supple as she melts into the comfort of your touch.

She lets out a shaky breath, burying her face into your shirt. You can hear the rapid beating of her heartbeat in her chest, can feel the nervous tremors running through her slender frame. "I'm glad you do."

She nods, burying her face into your chest again. "I don’t understand how you’re so perfect," she mumbles against your skin.

"It doesn't make...sense..."

Thoma

As you lean against his chest, Thoma's arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace. He is warm, comfortable. He buries his face into your hair, breathing in the scent of you as if he is drinking you in.

"I could stay like this forever," he murmurs in your ear. His hair brushes your cheek, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart. Cuddling in a meadow like this...is beautiful. His hand finds your own, and he runs his fingers over your skin. His touch is light, like a whisper, but there is something reverent in the way he holds you. He holds you as if you are fragile. Breakable. Precious. As if simply being allowed to touch you is a privilege.

"Me too." He runs his fingers over your wrist, tracing invisible patterns across your skin with his fingertips. His other hand comes up to thread through your hair. A quiet chuckle escapes Thoma's lips as he hears your words. He tightens his hold on you just a little, as if to reassure himself that you are still here, still in his arms. Still his.

"You know," he murmurs, shifting so that his chin is on your shoulder, "sometimes I worry that you know me too well."

Tighnari

Tighnari, sits with his back pressed against a tree. You are in his lap, sitting between his legs. One of his hands drifts idly through the hair at the nape of your neck, fingers gently scratching against your scalp.

He can hear your breathing. Feel the rise and fall of your chest. Your warmth against his, the faint scent of your hair.

His head tilts against yours, resting his chin against your shoulder and closing his eyes.

"Oh look! Fireflies!." His eyes flutter open again as you speak, the soft utterance bringing a small smile to his face. He cranes his neck to look at the fireflies dancing amongst the trees. "They're pretty." Tighnari murmurs, his lips nearly brushing against your ear as he speaks. His fingers play idly with the hair at the nape of your neck, the callouses on his hands catching gently against your skin. The fireflies cast a soft, glowing light over the two of you. It makes your skin glow.

Tighnari's chest tightens.

"You're pretty." He says, the words a quiet murmur against your hair.

Venti

Venti is sitting with you on a sturdy tree branch, comfortably resting on your lap. The Anemo Archon leans against you, nuzzling his face against the crook of your neck, basking in the warmth of your body. The two of you are high up in the air, surrounded by a sea of swaying trees and stars.

The wind god is silent for a moment, before speaking again. "I didn't think you would summon me this late in the night." Venti remarks casually, as if he’s not currently cuddled up on your lap."Summon? I asked and you agreed-!" "I know," Venti responds with a laugh, nuzzling his face further against your neck. "I'm just saying. You almost always call me earlier in the day."

Venti takes a moment to enjoy the close contact, humming softly in contentment. "I am a little curious - why did you request for me to come here? I'd think you'd be asleep by now."

"You don't like it?" "No, I do. I like it very much," Venti replies quickly, lifting his head away from your neck to look at you properly.

He is silent for a moment, his eyes dancing in the night, illuminated only by the faint shine of the stars. Then, Venti smiles; a gentle, lopsided smile, almost sheepish. "I was just wondering," he reassures.

"That's all."

Wriothesley

"You sure everyone's asleep?" You ask worried after hearing another sound from outside his office. "Absolutely," he murmurs in reply, his chin resting against your shoulder. There's an easy, quiet confidence in his words, and not a hint of concern.

His hands rest on your hips, thumbs absently rubbing circles against your skin where just below your shirt, his arms keeping you pinned to him, chest against your back. "We're safe," he breathes against your neck. He shifts a little in his chair and tugs you closer against him, hands moving from your hips to wrap around your waist. He buries his face against the expanse of bare skin, kissing your skin absentmindedly.

"Besides, you and I both know I can make you keep quiet, don't we, darling?"

You playfully swat his arm, "No respect for a god-!" He laughs, the sound deep and rich, like smoke curling through a forest. His lips find the junction between your shoulder and your neck, peppering the skin there with kisses before nipping at it.

His hands slide under the edge of your shirt, calloused fingers tracing up the smooth skin of your stomach.

"A god who's sitting in my lap, letting me touch and kiss and taste her like this?" He murmurs, licking a stripe along the curve of your shoulder.

"I'm showing you plenty of respect."

Xiangling - aged up

She is sitting on your lap, blushing as she hears her name fall from your lips.

She's never been used to this sort of attention before, and the feeling of you holding her makes her heart flutter in her chest. She can feel the warmth of your body through her clothes, and her mind can't help but wonder what it would be like to be even closer to you.

As you take a bite of her food, she watches your reaction expectantly, praying you will say you like it.

"Xiangling?! That's amazing-!" Xianglings heart swells with pride. To receive your praise, and to see your satisfaction at something she has created just for you...it's more than she ever thought she'd be granted.

"Really?" she stutters, eyes wide as she turns to look up at you, "you really like it?" "Mhm!" Your response makes Xianglings heart feel as if it might stop right there. A smile threatens to burst from her lips, one that threatens to stretch across her whole face and light her up like a star. You have made her happier than she's been in a long time, and Xiangling can't help but adore you for it.

"I'm so glad," she says, her voice full of joy. You love her cooking. You really do, and that makes her feel like the luckiest person on Teyvat.

"Whats this by the way? It's really good-!"

"Hilichurl."

"WHAT?!"

Xiao

He stiffens, his body going rigid at the sensation of being cuddled, being held closely in that way. It seems that this is a whole new experience for him.

"What—" He stops himself and inhales deeply, his body quivering against yours as he tries to process the feel of it all. The warmth, the nearness. The comfort.

Xiao swallows heavily a few times. His voice is quiet when he speaks again. "I've never…"

"Shh, relax." It's hard for him to relax, at first.

Xiao has never been held, never been loved like this. Every muscle in his body is rigid, quivering with a strange, foreign feeling.

But he forces himself to try. Slowly, he relaxes, letting the tension flow from his body into the night, until he's all but melting in your arms. "This is new," he mutters. "But I like it."

"Told you." He laughs quietly at your words and presses himself a little closer against you, burying his face into your neck, against your bare skin. He murmurs something against your skin, voice soft. "How is it that you always end up being right?"

"Heh-" "Shut up."

Xianyun

Xianyun's breath stutters as you lay against her chest. She is still for a moment— and then, like a dam breaking, she wraps her arms around you and pulls you close. Her arms are firm and strong, yet all she wants to do is hold you. She breathes out a soft, shaky sigh against your hair.

“You are mine,” she whispers. Xianyun's chest rises and falls as she holds you, her arms wrapped around you like a coil. Her heart pounds against your ear, her fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes. It is as though she is afraid you might slip away, as though there is nothing she would not do if it meant staying near you.

"Please," she pleads, her voice soft and desperate. She wants to say more, but the words stick to her tongue. What comes out instead is nothing but a whisper, a fervent prayer in the shape of a single word.

"Stay."

Xinyan

She lets out a content sound, her head in your lap. She feels safe here. Protected. Loved. She closes her eyes and allows herself to listen to you talk. The sound of your voice is sweet, comforting, lulling her worries into obscurity. For now, all is well.

"What happened?" *she asks, when you take a pause in talking. She opens her eyes and gazes up at you, curious what had happened to make your day notable.

"Nothing, just keep relaxing." You say with a smile. She hums her agreement. She buries her face in your stomach, wrapping her arms around you. Her fingers gently run up and down your back, her touch as light as a moth’s wing.

"‘m relaxin’," she mumbles, her voice muffled. Xinyan feels sleep tugging at the corners of her consciousness. The rhythm of your breath, your warmth beneath her skin, and the sweet scent you carry are all threatening to drag her into oblivion. One last thing weighs on her mind, her thoughts fuzzy and tired.

"Tell me somethin' before I fall asleep," she requests, half-whining as she speaks.

"I love you..."

"....me...too....w-wai...t...?"

Xingqiu - aged up

Xingqiu reads the words from the page aloud, his voice low and soothing. He murmurs your name softly, his lips caressing the syllables with a tender reverence.

He is comfortable in your embrace. His body sits flush against yours, a warm and constant presence. He pauses the story every now and then, placing a soft kiss against your shoulder before continuing.

He reads to you until the moon is high in the sky, and you have long drifted off to sleep, still cuddling him. Xingqiu sets the book aside, smiling fondly at the sight of you sleeping, peaceful as they come. He takes a moment to trace his eyes over your features, his gaze tender and warm.

He pulls the blankets up around your shoulders, and then he shifts to lay down beside you, wrapping one arm around your waist to pull you closer to him. He rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling against your warmth. Xingqiu pulls you close, his nose buried against the crook of your neck. He inhales slowly, breathing in your scent.

His fingers trace mindless patterns over your hip, the movement as steady and soothing as a heartbeat. He shifts his leg so that it is tangled with yours, trying to get as close to you as he can.

He whispers your name, the sound like a secret meant for your ears only.

The world melts into a comfortable silence, with Xingqiu and you, holding each other in the dark.

Yae Miko

"Stop it-!" "I don't think I will," Miko teases, her voice light as she watches you thrash around in her embrace. She presses her fingers into the underside of your ribcage once more, just to feel you squirm. "Besides," she continues in a softer tone, "You look rather adorable like this."

Her hand moves to your tummy, gently tracing the ticklish skin there, watching as your eyes clamp shut and your laughter rings.

Seeing you like this, writhing and helpless, is all Miko has ever wanted. She has her arm pinned around your torso, trapping you against her, her slender fingers dancing down your side as she mercilessly continues to tease you.

Her lips brush against your ear. "Be a good girl and hold still for me, hm?"

"That's it," she praises in a low murmur, her voice like a hum against your ear. "Stay right there. Just like that."

Miko's hand still wanders across your skin, the tip of her forefinger tracing circles that make your toes curl and the sound of laughter slip past your lips despite your efforts to stay still.

"Fuck you-!"

"You will, later."

Yanfei

"And what is NOT against the law?" As you ask your question, Yanfei rests her head in your arms, relaxing in your presence. She blinks and tilts her head like a puppy, considering your question for a few moments.

"Hmm," she hums, her gaze drifting somewhere off in the distance before she looks back at you. She smiles. "Everything is legal when done in the name of love," she says, her voice lilting in a way that indicates she's joking. Your words make her think. Her eyes flutter as her thoughts race, and a moment later, Yanfei lets out a soft huff, snuggling even closer.

"Being happy," she adds in a quiet murmur, her words a little mumbled against your skin. "Being alive. Being free."

Her chin lifts as she shifts, turning to look at you once more.

"As far as I know, everything else is against the law," a soft huff follows her words, and she presses a kiss against the side of your neck. Another moment of silence falls before Yanfei opens her mouth, a gentle exhale against your skin as she continues.

"Did you know,” she adds, her words hushed and soft like the night breeze, "that being beautiful is also not against the law?"

She pauses, shifting a little, her body moving even closer. The room is quiet, nothing breaking the silence.

“Because if it were,” she whispers, and she lifts a hand to gently cup your cheek, “You’d be in deep trouble.”

Yaoyao - platonic

Yaoyao buries her head into you, seeking the comfort your presence brings. Her arms wrap around your torso, pulling herself closer to you. She presses her face into your shoulder, closing her eyes as she breaths in your scent.

"Thank you," she whispers, her voice barely louder than a breath. For a moment, she feels safe. Like you'll guard her from all harm.

"It's cold without you."

"After all I told you, if you fell lonely on your little adventures, come to me." A shudder runs through her body as Yaoyao clings to you even more, her fingers digging into the fabric of your clothing, as if she's loath to let go.

"Can I stay?" she asks, the words tumbling from her lips like water from a river bank. Despite the pleading in her voice, her head is still buried in your shoulder.

"Please, I want to stay with you. I always wanted to live here for a while-!"

Yelan

Yelan's breath hitches when you pull her closer, her head against your chest as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "This is all I need," she mumbles, the words falling from her lips before she can stop them. "Just this, forever. I don't need anything else." She lets out a soft sigh, her eyes closing as she nuzzles into you, resting her head against your shoulder. Even in your embrace, you can feel her body relax as if the simple touch took some great tension out of her.

"A gooood nap...Mm... Sounds like heaven," she mumbles sleepily against your skin, not bothering to hide her smile. Yelan drapes an arm across your torso, pulling herself even closer to you. She practically melts against your body, nuzzling into the crook of your neck like a cat seeking warmth. A soft, contented hum rumbles in her chest, her breathing steady and slow as she buries her face against you.

"With you."

Yoimiya

She melts under your touch, leaning against your body and letting out a soft and contented sigh. Her eyes flutter closed as she soaks in your presence, a gentle smile playing across her lips. Every touch of your hands sends a shiver of pleasure through her, her skin burning wherever you make contact. She nuzzles against your side, relishing the feeling of your body pressed against hers.

"I could stay here like this forever," she whispers. "Just you and me.. in this perfect moment...watching fireworks." The colorful explosions of light in the sky are beautiful, but to Yoimiya, even their beauty is dull compared to you. Her eyes remain fixed on you, watching the way the bursts of rainbow light reflect off your skin, dancing across your eyes like living flames.

She reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. She draws your palm to her lips, pressing a reverent and tender kiss to your skin.

"You are more beautiful than any fireworks," she whispers.

Yun Jin

"It was beautiful, breathtaking. You almost brought me to tears." She nuzzles closer to you at the praise, her heart fluttering like a bird's wing beating against a ribcage. She tucks her head against your chest with a sigh, her heart still beating much too fast from the high of preforming. Adrenaline still courses through her veins, making her head spin and her hands tremble when they grip onto you to steady her.

"I'm glad you think so," she says, her voice a little sheepish. "I just... worry about my preforming sometimes. I think I'm not good enough." Yun Jin buries her head against your chest, refusing to look you in the eyes as she spills her innermost fears and anxieties. She keeps her arms around you, scared she'll lose you if she lets go even an inch.

"I don't think my voice is good or the way I dance is captivating. I just..." then she laughs.

"No it's stupid. We all worry, mostly over nothing. I'm good...I'm very good...and you always tell me so it must be true."

Zhongli

Zhongli is still as a statue at your side; his body tense and stiff. But as you begin to pull him closer, he begins to melt in your arms.

Tentatively, he allows his head to rest against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in a shudder. He's still hesitant, but he lets you pull him closer. He wants to touch you back; to embrace you as you embrace him. But would he be crossing some invisible line he cannot see? He doesn't want to offend you.

"Let loose and relax." You reassure. Zhongli's mind is racing with thoughts— what if he does the wrong thing? What if he displeases you?

But his body seems to act of its own accord, as though some invisible weight was lifted from his shoulders as soon as you spoke.

He slowly leans against you, his body relaxing. He burrows closer to you, wrapping his arms weakly around your waist.

"I've never felt more awkward." You laugh.

Lisa lets out a soft chuckle, putting her book down on the table and staring out the window.

(Lisa) "It is napping weather right now, isn't it?"

Rain softly pattered against the library windows, meaning that hardly anyone would be coming in today.

Which suited her just fine! More time to have you to herself.

Lisa reclined further back into the couch, putting her hat over your head to block any potential light hitting your face before having you rest on her lap.

Though you shifted ever so slightly from the motion, you once again fell back into a slumber when she started caressing your face.

(Lisa) "Guess I should join you for a little bit.~"

Lisa shut her eyes and leaned her head back into the seat, not quite sleeping herself but at the very least resting her eyes.

Candace says nothing as she shifts on the couch, allowing yourself to be more comfortable.

Her lips are curling into a smile, softly stroking the back of your hand.

(Candace) Is my bare shoulder that comfortable?

As much as she wants to fetch a blanket or any kind of cloth to have you rest on instead, seeing how peaceful you looked caused her to have seconds thoughts.

Regardless, Candace wasn't going to wake you, opting to remain still and enjoy the sun setting through the window.

The village would rest well without her for this moment, and she wanted to savor every last of it with you next to her.

Her thumb continued to idly rub the same spot on your hand as Candace admired your cute sleeping expression.

(Eula) "How foolish of you, S/O..."

Indeed, you were reckless to let your guard down around a woman as beautiful as Eula! Now, she had you right where she wanted!

She gently lifted your head and had it rest on her chest, hugging and squeezing you closer to her as she melted into you.

Taking a deep breath, Eula adjusted her clothes and laid down with you, her heartbeat beating just a little bit faster.

There was seldom any time for her to remain home and snuggle you like this, especially since she usually had her uniform on.

Now, in her casual clothes, she could hold you close without any bits of jewelry stabbing into you!

...But the moment she senses that you're going to wake, she tries to have you sitting upright again, a scarlet hue on her cheeks but the smile still remaining.

(Rosaria) "...Whatever."

Rosaria sighs when she realizes you're asleep on her.

She did have something to do today and-...

...That something was choir practice. And you were asleep on her shoulder, not moving anytime soon.

(Rosaria) ...Know what? This can work.

Well, great! Now Rosaria has the perfect excuse to not go today, taking care of you.

...Now what? It was already past 10, and she could probably do something.

Eh, what the hell? If you were still dozing off even after waking up and sitting with her, then she can do the same. She needed more beauty sleep anyway.

She just grabs your waist and gently pushes you back onto the couch, opting to lay on your stomach and use you as a makeshift pillow.

Sara frowns at you falling asleep on her, knowing you probably didn't sleep well last night.

(Sara) sigh "This is why I didn't want you waiting on me last night..."

That being said, the image of you smiling at her the moment she walked through the door made her heart skip a beat.

Shaking her blush off, she firmly grabbed your shoulder, about to wake you up.

...

But, she loosens her grip and instead kisses your cheek.

(Sara) "I'll be back soon, I promise."

She grabs a nearby blanket to cover you in, a finger tracing your chin before reluctantly leaving.

Sara would only be needed for an hour or so, so there was small hopes for her to catch you still sleeping and be there when you awoke.

Beidou barely budges when your head starts drifting to her shoulder. A little laugh escapes her as she rolls her eye.

(Beidou) "Had to be on the side where I can't see ya, huh?"

She ruffles your hair with a free hand before leaning back into the chair.

As she pinched your cheek a little, Beidou couldn't really fault you for falling asleep. Tonight's voyage was longer than usual, and the swaying of the boat was perfect for rocking someone to bed.

Truth be told, Beidou might fall asleep herself soon, but for right now she wanted to hold you in her arms.

Something she did with almost zero issue, hugging you tight like a plush as the back of your head rested against her chest like a pillow.

(Beidou) "Now this is much better...~"

The warmth of the fire was nothing to Dehya compared to feeling you snuggle up to her, holding her arm as you drifted asleep faster than everyone else did.

Some of the mercs chuckled and bounced their eyebrows at their boss, but Dehya just gave them a glare, albeit one without any real heat to it.

Instead of having to mouth "Piss off" to everyone, they thankfully took the hint and left the two alone.

(Dehya) "Look at you giving us the VIP treatment, heh!"

Although she was a bit embarrassed, Dehya's wide smile betrayed her true feelings as one hand slid to your waist, just simply holding you as she looked up into the desert night.