#aether of imagination

[unluckilyimnot]

Playing with their hair – aether, kinich, wanderer, rin, sae, sakura

note: i'm just in love with aether and kinich recently and i needed to write something with aether's hair so why not had some of my fav characters along with them. that's probably not really good but i guess it's cute. ooc

m.list | rules

Aether is used to your hands suddenly laying on his hair, running through them when you walk behind him – it’s like an urge, you just have to. You stopped on your track, bowing to kiss his head, inhaling his shampoo a little and hummed at the sweet scent.

“You took my shampoo again,” you mentioned, not in a warning way, more like you appreciate it. He nodded lightly, delighting himself from the feeling of your hands still running through his hair, scratching his scalp a little before kissing it again.

Sensing that you’re about to go away, his hands take yours gently and his head bent down to look up at you. “Already leaving ? We can both take a break…” he said, subtly implying you to not stop yet, making you giggle.

“Sure, we can.”

That’s basically how he ended up sitting on the floor between your thighs, watching a movie while you brush his hair for him, kindly letting your fingers run down his beautifully long hair – trying small, low buns to one high ponytail.

“Having fun ?” You can hear the smile in his voice, amused as always when he let you enjoy his hair more than he does.

“Always.” you said while kissing his nose from above, hiding the tv from his sight for a mere second but he still whines at you for doing so. Such a crybaby.

Kinich sighs as he feels your hands examining his hair again. “Would you stop doing that ?”

He knows you’re not doing this to annoy him, yet it always kind of stresses him to picture you scanning his scalp without any invitation to do so. He also knows that you don’t care about what he says, continuing to play with his hair while you swipe away some dandruff here and there.

“What’s the matter,” you talked back, seemingly frustrated. “You never say anything when it’s to help you fall asleep.” you argued, feeling really satisfied when he doesn’t find anything to say after that. It for sure helps a lot, he can’t argue with that, but he really hoped you could realize that it works all the time and not only when he wants it to – which means he was getting sleepy, slightly closing his eyes while he still had a lot to do.

A satisfied sigh escaped his lips before he could hold it in and you hummed teasingly. Your hands moved from his head to his chest, your arms caging him against you and you laid your head on top of his. “Tired already ?”

“Shut it.” he sounded harsh but he still rested against your chest as well, feeling at peace being so close to you. He wasn’t really tired but if you let him, Kinich would for sure appreciate some quality time with his head in your chest and your hands in his hair. Not that he’ll say it to you.

Wanderer honestly never mind when you ask him if you can play with his hair, he’s usually already busy and not moving so someone touching his hair while studying doesn’t change much for him. He won’t say that it doesn’t make it easy to concentrate since he, sometimes, tends to focus on this more than on the words written in front of him but he still appreciates how peaceful it makes him feel when he’s particularly worried or stressed.

Your hand running through his short strands of hair takes him somewhere else where he doesn’t need to worry as much, he likes it, even if he would never be physically capable of telling you.

“You’re braiding it ?” he asks, half absent in his question – he just wanted to confirm the feeling of your fingers brushing past his cheeks repeatedly. You hummed softly in response, leaving the braid dying the second you let it go since his hair was too short to handle it. It doesn’t discourage you though, and before he can ask what you’ll do next, he can already feel your steady movement back to the same scheme and a soft chuckle left his lips.

“You want me to stop ?” you asked under your breath, probably still concentrated on what you were doing but still caught his sigh.

“No, it’s fine. Go on.” he assured before stepping back again into his study, more than relaxing by this short break.

Rin loves movie dates to his core, but it always gets him when you start touching his hair in the middle of the movie. It's like he's never getting used to it and he's jolting a bit every single time, making you chuckle. But you always kiss his head as an excuse after. 

There's something relaxing when your fingers start to twirl around his short hair, making him wonder who appreciates it the most between you and him. Because he for sure loves it. 

His mind drifts away easily despite himself and how badly he wants to follow the movie. He always finds some way to lean into you, craving for more like a cat and more often than not, he ends up laying on top of you. 

“Don't fall asleep this time Rin,” you joke while scratching his head playfully. He simply nodded, absorbed in the movie more than you gave him credit for. He just didn't want you to stop.

Sae hates it when he feels your hands finding his hair in the middle of the day. He spends quite some time styling his hair in the morning, even if it doesn’t look like it, and you being nearby automatically becomes a danger for that.

Not that he doesn’t like you touching his hair, he’s fond of it, he wishes he could die with you touching his hair, but not during the day. So as soon as he feels it, he immediately gets up and warns you. “Please don’t.”

But he knows it can't be helped and soon your lips meet his, kissing him sweetly – your successful way to distract him – so you can end up with your hands reaching the hair in his neck. Twirling your fingers around it, pulling ever so slightly to annoy him but he still lets you. Not without a sigh against your lips, but he knows damn well he can't hold you back when you're determined to do something. 

He wishes he could keep his hair pretty for the day at least once in a while but he can't blame you ; both of you like it very much. He can forget his image for yet another day if that means he can appreciate the relaxing feint of your fingernails on his scalp. Even if lately it's starting to be everyday, he won't mention it – or not seriously. 

Your smile is more precious than some good hair day. 

Sakura still isn't used to you touching his hair, he hasn't been used to gentle gestures in his life before coming here  –  especially regarding his looks. The second your hands find his hair, he flinches by reflex even if he knows that it’s only you around him. He doesn’t turn you down anymore though since you always let him know how you love his hair, for the color or the fluffiness ; it’s just the best thing in the word and it got to be your boyfriend’s hair. You must be blessed. 

You still try not to frighten him too much, and start by touching his shoulders then going up to his neck and finally the hair in the nape of it. Twirling it lightly with your fingers and you’re sure to catch him snapping his head to you with a blush. 

“What are you doing ?!” he asked as always, flustered but not telling you to stop anyway which made you smile sweetly. 

“I’m playing with your hair ? You want me to stop ?” you tilted your head to the side, trying to act cute and confused so he doesn’t have the heart to tell you no. And with a resigned look but his brows still frowned, he compiled without adding anything.It’s a win, once again. 

You then slowly but surely brush through all his hair, tossing it one side to another, mixing the two colors together then separating it again like a puzzle. That’s something you grew to love, separating his hair for him and that’s also your best excuse to touch it even when there’s people around. Even if he’s not fond of it.

He tends to lay a bit in your hand when you do so, or when you stop your hand in his hair, quietly liking the feeling now that you’ve given him some time. Not that he’ll say it to you, never, but he doesn’t need to for you to know. It’s just like you to notice how he relaxes around you and when you do it. There’s a small smile on your lips when he tries to catch your eyes but looks away instantly, blushing again, and it makes you wonder when he’ll stop blushing around you. 

“You’re cute, Haruka,” you said, brushing away his bang to kiss his forehead. And without a second of hesitation – when in fact yes, but you tried to ignore it –  he was arguing with you about how he is NOT cute, simply proving your point again and again.

Let me know if you like it !

[viannasthings]

AHHH PONYTAIL AETHER HAHDGHA ON MY KNEES RN HE LOOKS SO GOOD HELP also crying why did we barely have any kinich content 😖😭🙏

[aetherraeys]

relieving the pressure

remus lupin x afab!reader ⊹ 4.2k

for this request x

cw ⟢ smut 18+ mdni, very domestic, established relationship, fluff, soft remus, very attentive!reader, swearing, p in v, riding, creampie, aftercare

summary: you always take such good care of remus before the full moon, moodswings and all—he's just so overwhelmed with love for you. (techincally part two of this, but can be read alone)

a/n: REMUS SMUT MWHAHAHAHAH gosh the second i started this i literally couldn't think about anything else. WRAP BEFORE YOU TAP PLS, not proofread x

The warmth that radiated off you was so soothing, and in combination with the tender twist and coil of your fingertips through his hair, Remus really didn’t stand a chance—the low lulling call of sleep beckoning him forward. Unable to fight against the exhaustion that had been looming over him and the mental fatigue of the day’s emotional whiplash.

You felt the rise and fall of his chest slow, the small hum of his content sighs coming to a stop and his hand falling limp against your waist—sleeping.

For a long while, you continued to indulge him, carding your fingers through his hair, letting them settle at the nape of his neck—before slowly, delicately peeling yourself from him, adjusting the pillow beneath his head, the duvet over his body. Silently treading around the room to close the curtains in exchange for the small bedside lamp, switching on the diffuser as your exited—leaving the door just barely ajar.

Unfortunately for Remus, the ache of his limbs jolsted him awake not long after you left, his arm reaching out in search for the warmth of your presence. And the lack of your discovery cause a small pout to settle onto his lips, tossing and turning to get a look at the clock, 7:38pm, barely and hour and a half of sleep.

Pursing his lips together with a sigh of reluctance, he forced his way out of the duvet’s cozy embrace—a sharp wince making slipping into the air with first steps he took. Stopping at the door frame when he noticed the lack of life in the living room, the heavy trickle of water reaching his ears as he turned into the bathroom.

You hadn’t noticed him watching, perched on the edge of the bath, the sound of the running tap accompanied by your light absentminded hums—and the corners of his lips twitched up in admiration, as your fingertips glided through the surface of the water. After a few more moments of observation, he stepped onto the cold tiles of the bathroom, the flitting of light from his shadow over the burning candles alerting you to his presence.

Immediately your lips stretched into a warm smile, walking over to him and wrapping him up in your arms. His head instinctively fell into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale—letting you fill all his senses, mumbling into your skin. The vibrations made your shoulders inch up as a giggle bubbled in your chest, leaning back to meet his gaze—eyebrows raised as an indication for him to repeat himself.

His hands settled on the curve of your hips, walking you backwards till your back pressed against the sink. You still looked up at him, eyes swimming with a soft, silent fondness that made his throat dry—your hands trailed up his sides, over his chest and neck, running over his hair before residing on the curves of his jaw, thumb tracing lightly over the scar by his lip.

“What y’doing?” His voice low and hoarse from disuse.

You stayed quiet for a moment, drinking in his appearence, the disheveled mass of curls on his head, the cowlick at the front of one of his brows, the slightly sunked dark circles that rested beneath his eyes; “Mmm, just running a bath,”

He knew it was for him, if the candle placement wasn’t telling enough, the book he’d been reading resting on the ledge by the window was a dead give away. Remus hummed back in response, leaning down and pressing small kisses across your face, leaving the last against your lips, grinning into the touches.

When you eventually pull away from him, leaving away, checking the rising water level—almost ready—he switched to holding your free hand, trailing behind you as you walked to the other cabinet. Shockingly clingy considering his previous mood, it still brought a small smile to your face—trying to work around the one handed handicap situation he’d put you in. When you reached for a small packet, you made an attempt to unzip it to no avail. Turning to look at him, your words littered with a huffed chuckle—

“I’m gonna need my other hand, bubs,”

Something similar to a pained groan rumbled in Remus’ chest as he released your hand—opting to wrap his arms around your middle, head resting lightly against your shoulder.

Opening the packet, you waddled over to the bath, Remus still clinging to your back, taking the small scoop and emptying it into the water—small buds of lavender rising to the surface as you leaned and ran your hand through bath.

“Am I the main ingredient in your soup?”

His words were muffled against your skin and your body shook with the giggles that ran through you—adding another scoop and turning off the tap before spinning to look at him, lips still stretched into a grin.

Your hand came up under the hem of his jumper, fingertips ghosting over the warm skin of his torso, and he made no attempts to fight against you—removing his jumper in one swift moment while you murmured. “It’s a bath salt, it should help with the aches,”

He leaned into your hold, hands rubbing small pressured circles onto the top of his hips—beginning his light assault again, this time peppering small kisses along your pulse, drifting up to the thin skin behind your ears. His voice was low and gravelly sending shivers down your spine.

“Will you join me?”

Letting out a soft hum of approval, Remus waste no time mimicking your actions and ridding you of your top—dropping it to the floor, joining his with a small thud.

Greeted with the newly exposed skin, his lips trailed to the tops of your shoulders, fingertips skimming over your spine, reaching up to unclasp your bra and roughly tossing it behind him. Soft sighs spill from your lips, basking in the affection before you eventually breathed—“It’s gonna get cold, Rem,”

Only then did he detach from your skin slightly, and with a squeeze of your hips, he stepped back, giving you both space to shimmy out of your bottoms.

His bones thanked him as the water embraced him, leaning against the cold ledge of the bath, coaxing him forward, you took your seat behind him, arms cradling his body as his did before. His hum vibrated low against your skin when he felt the warmth of your lips against his spine. You reached up, plucking the small vial of eucalyptus oil—dropping a pipette full into the water as well as your hands.

Using the heat of your hands to work it into his skin, Remus’ eyes closed as you started to work the tension out of his shoulders—letting his head hang forward, basking in the soothing lull of the water, as well as the attentive press of your fingers into his aching muscles.

“Does that feel okay?” Your voice was just above a whisper, breathy and honeyed against his neck, thumbs working their way down, on each side of his spine—goosebumps forming in their wake.

“Mmmm, feels really good, love,”

Once your hands reached the base of his spine, they snaked round back to his hips—kneading lightly into the flesh, pressing small pecks against his shoulder blade. Taking extra care to work out the knots that formed under his skin before bring your hands up to his hair—saturating the curls with water, massaging gently into his scalp as his rested his head against your shoulder. Looking up at you, eyes filled with contentment.

Your voice was soft and soothing in his ears; “Close your eyes,” reaching over him and adding a dollop of shampoo into your palm before lathering, sighs of relaxation spilling form his lips when the sweet jasmine scent took over his senses. For a few long drawn out minutes, you worked your fingertips into him in relative silence—bar the gentle melody you hummed lightly, soothing something deep in Remus’ bones.

By the time you’d washed, rinsed and conditioned his hair—he was sure he’d fall asleep right then and there if he wasn’t careful. After a final hum, more breath than words, he murmured, “Your turn, love,” When you stood, stepping out of the water, Remus quickly shifted back, making space for you.

The surface of the water sloshing against his torso as you re-entered, instinctively you laid your head against his chest, absorbing the familiar heat that radiated off of him—you lay against him for a while, his hands holding yours, rubbing absentminded patterns on your skin. Dipping your head lower, you submerged your hair into the water—eyes closed, letting the low dulling whoosh of the water bounce between your ears.

Just before you lifted your head, you opened your eyes to find Remus, his sights already on you—unfairly fond. Shampoo already lathered in his palms, waiting for you to full re-emerge, the softest smile twitching at the corners of his lips.

He repeated your actions, rinsing and resting his chin on your shoulder. With a deep inhale through your nose, you turned to look at him slightly—he was all but melting into you—voice gentle and candied, “Feel better, Rem?”

His lips stretched into a wide, crooked grin—burying his cheek into the curve of your shoulder when he responded, “Much,”

You waited for a few more minutes before shifting forward, a pout etching itself onto his lips at the loss of contact. Reaching for a towel as you stepped out and over the edge the porcelain, when you turned back to him, his expression resembled that of a kicked puppy. Brows furrowed high on his forehead, pout curling down into a frown, his fingers gripped the edge as if he were going to pull himself out.

Instead, you leaned over to the window-cill, adding another few drops of oil into the water—you let your fingertips massage small circles onto the highpoint of his forehead, whispering to him—

“Stay in a little longer,”

His eyes were closed, sinking further into the water, your voice sounded almost hypnotic to him, mindlessly nodding to your words. Feeling the soft press of your lips against his temples before you padded out to dress and dry yourself.

It wasn’t long before Remus made his way into the bedroom, draining the bath just before his skin could raisin. His bed clothes were laid out on the side of the bed, warm to touch, and his heart ached at the extra lengths you went to to make him comfortable.

The loud whirring of the hairdryer coming to a stop as your turned to him, sitting cross legged in the middle of the bed—clad in a tank top and a pair of his boxer shorts, and as he got dressed he couldn’t help but admire, eyes glued to your form.

A half-exasperated smile twitched at the corners of your lips at his staring, bringing your hand down to at the bed with a few soft pats. Remus crawled into the spot you’d sat in, still warm from your presence. Towel hung loosely around his neck, tips of his hair still dripping onto it—he leaned back, arms supporting his weight as your leg swings over his, settling onto his lap.

His brows quirk up slightly accompanied with a lazy smirk, automatically shifting his weight to free his hands, letting them curve and rest on the round of your thighs. Rolling your eyes at him, but it had no real bite—your hands run though his wet tufts a few times, and his eyes are swimming with adoration.

Placing one small peck on his lips—puling away just a quick as you came in, and he found himself following your lips as they left. Only to be met with your finger, abruptly stopping his chase in its tracks—raising the hairdryer into his view a semi-smug, knowing grin extending across your face, tongue darting out to wet your lips.

The steady whirring hum of the dryer started and Remus squinted as the cool pressurised air hit his skin, one hand combing through his locs, the other shaking the dryer around his head. He let his hands wander over your skin, fiddling with the hem of his boxers on you, pads of his fingers drawing patterns against your thighs lightly, dragging the back of his nails down the exposed skin of your spine as you worked away.

When you’d finally dried the last section of his hair, Remus’ hands rested comfortably on the curve of your ass, and he couldn’t fight the temptation, pinching at the flesh. As the dryer bounced against the bed, you jolted on his lap at the feeling—a sharp gasp leaving your lips, swatting his shoulder slightly in feigned annoyance.

He barked out a laugh, palm rubbing soothingly over the spot, his head falling into the crook of your neck—body shaking insync with his laughter. Seamlessly, his hands continued on their wandering path over your body, pulling you closer into him as he pressed small kisses against your collarbone.

A huffed scoff slipped passed your lips as your breathed—

“Restless, are we?”

He didn’t respond with anything more than a dreamy sigh against your skin as he indulged further, basking in you, his lips moving languidly up the side of your neck. Words tumbled from his lips, muffled against your throat, a quiet confession lost to the warmth of the moment. Your hands find their way to his jaw, pulling him back slightly—he looks at you like you’d hung the stars in the sky yourself, slowly leaning up your lips murmuring again—clearer this time.

“I don’t deserve you,”

There was no time for you to protest, to correct his words before his lips were pressed against yours and his fingers were spread, wrapping around the dip of your waist—pulling until you were flush against him. The once slow, languid pecks bloomed into unrestrained, craven touches. He moved his lips against yours—yearning, the burning in the pit of his stomach suddenly too much to bare, indulging himself with rough kisses. He couldn’t help it; it was impulse—his heart swelled—overflowed with adoration.

You loved him like it was second-nature, easy—an instinct, and Remus didn’t know what to do with himself.

He’d become feverish, gripping onto you with vigor despite the mild ache of his joints, overwhelmed with affection for you, an airy “thank you,” passing his lips into the small space between you. Your fingers tangling the tufts at the base of his neck, detatching your lips, taking the opportunity to plant kisses all over his face, muttering against his jaw; “Don’t thank me, Rem,”

A low hum rumbled in his chest as you worked your way down his neck, littering kisses and nibbles along the way. His palms are hot against you, sliding under the fabric of your top, curling around the curve of your breast in a mean grasp, earning him a light gasp. In an endless pursuit for your lips, he took his oppportunity, the second your lips disconnected from his neck.

Bringing your lips together with a quiet groan, Remus was getting more handsy by the second, hands drifting and taking a bruising hold on your hips, driving your hips forward to rock roughly against his. Words muffled by your lips, hoarse and honeyed—

“So pretty,”

Your breath hitched as he guided your hips over his, the friction sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers dug into your waist, desperate, as if trying to pull you deeper into him, to feel you more completely. Your name tumbled from his lips between kisses, each syllable a whispered prayer against your mouth.

A soft moan slipping from your lips "Mmf—Rem," threading your fingers through his hair, tugging just enough to draw out a groan from deep within his chest. He shuddered beneath you, the tension in his body unraveling with each slow roll of your hips against his.

Holding your firmly before letting his back fall against the bed with a light thud, hand trailing down—slipping beneath the waistband of your shorts. Squirming against him when the rough pads of his fingers made contact with your clit, making small teasing circles over the bundle of nerves, drinking in each sound that fell from your lips—rocking feverishly into his touch.

Detaching with a sharp gasp, head falling into the junction of his neck when he slipped in a finger, pushing, and curling upwards—whining into his ear, breathy pants of—”f-fuck, hah—Rem,”

Gods did he love the way you sounded, the sweet, almost melodic pitches your voice would make—how you try to focus on your breathing patterns, gripping hard onto his hair when he pushed a second finger past the ring of muscles, tightening the coil that blossomed in the pits of your stomach.

Breathing completely erratic, trembling against him, more heat radiating off you with each stretch and scissor of his fingers, curling and curling, making your head spin. Peeling away his harsh grip on your hips, to take your jaw in his hand—compelling your gaze onto him. Cheeks and lips flushed red—brows knit high on your forehead in pleasure.

Remus pushed your lips together, greedy, indulgent—wanting.

And as his fingers slowed, slowly pulling them away from your core with a shudder, you wasted no time wiggling out of your shorts, tearing his off of him with an urgency that forced an incredulous laugh out of him. Though, it was cut off in an instant—a rough groan forcing its way out of his throat when you straddled him.

The friction without clothes made him dizzy, twitching against your clit, jaw tightening when the rich, candied tone of your voice reached his ears—ringing in his head over and over—

“Wanna make you feel good, Rem,”

He couldn’t even appreciate the sight of you sinking onto him, eyes screwing shut, brow curling into an arch on his forehead, jaw slacking at the feeling of you—sucking him in further—inch after inch.

Fingers splayed over the pretty little happy trail to steady yourself, the air punching its way out of your lungs when you finally reached the base, a choked out, gasping moan sounded beneath you,“f-fuckkk,” reverbrating around the room.

And you gave him no time to recover, compose himself, push away the desperate clench that made him want to spill inside you immediately, no, your hips moved against him in harsh mean rocks.

His eyes rolling into the depths of his skull, hands gripping—clawing at the flesh of your waist, seeking a slither of mercy from your sinful bucks. It was hypnotising, just the feeling alone, the way you swallowed all of him, the dragging of your walls with each grind. And the angle—he was so impossibly deep, you couldn’t think straight if you tried, stretching you out, making your legs trembled by his side.

“h-haah, shit—dove, wait,”

He couldn’t contain himself, sweat beading by his temples, biting hard into his lip—his hips already stuttered a rough thrust up into you—forcing you to jolt forward, hands pressing firmly against his chest for stability.

Back arching, walls fluttering—clenching around him, mouth agape, the mantra of his name flowing from your lips in urgent gasping, cries “o-oh! rem, fuck—ngh,”

Forcing his eyes open, chest heaving as he drank in greedy gulps of air, trying to focus on anything but the delicious squeeze of your core around him—his breath hitched the sight of you. Utterly divine, kiss-flushed lips, wet and parted, brows pushed together, pretty lashes fluttering and flittering, pupils blown.

The soft smell of jasmine, vanilla and sex filling the room.

A breathless whimper leaving your lips when you rocked against him once more, feeling him prod that spot that made the heat in your stomach coil impossibly tighter. Your rhythm—it made his throat so painfully dry, the way you grinded against him, adding just a bit of pressure. It had his brain so cloudy, drunk on you, on the way you looked at him with the bleary half-lidded eyes.

He never wants to let you go—not now, not ever.

His palms kneaded the flesh of your hips unforgivingly, coaxing you to rock against him harder, raising his hips to meet each trembling buck of your hips. He was already so close, huffed groans endlessly spillling from his lips, curses littered with your name, voice shaking with each rock—

”f-fuck, so perfect, a-ah—angel,”

Remus’ pace was getting more frenzied and off beat with each lewd squelch that sounded from where you were joined, jaw clenched in efforts to keep him from teetering over the edge, completely at your mercy.

Your hands trailed up from where they were planted on his chest, in exchange pressing into the pillows beside his head, leaning into him—lips brushing against the shell of his ears, voice airy, candied and oh so sweet.

“does it—mmfp, feel good, rem?”

God, he was going to lose it, rutting up, frantically, into each rotation of your hips, each roll of your waist—stuttering as your teeth grazed against the thin sensitive skin behind his ear. Eyes rolling back in his head slightly before squeezing them shut for a moment. Swallowing thickly, words punctuating with low gasps, “o- oh god, s’good, s’good—need you to cum, dove—f-fuck,”

Taking one bruising grip away from you hips, and forcing it between you—rough pad of his thumb finding the swollen bundle of nerves that rubbed against him, your breathing became more unsteady and irregular, incoherent babbles tumbling out of you. Walls clinging to him desperatly as you hips twitched and spasmed against him, arms almost giving out beneath you.

The harsh thrusts of his hips, had him buried deep deep deep, thighs squeezing at his sides as your high washed over you, cries of, “nnfgh, rem, rem, rem—” filling the room, mixing with the strained gravelly moans that tore through him, stuttering wildly before stilling beneath you. Your body shuddering against his, hands still stuck to each side of your hips, shocks running through him as his filled you up—hoarse groans echoing in the room.

Jolts of pleasure still wracked over you, laying boneless against his chest as the aftershocks pulsed through your limbs, your breaths mingling in the quiet, sweat-slick warmth of the room.

Remus hadn’t let go—not even for a second. His arms secure against your waist, holding you close. His lips found your temple, pressing a lingering kiss there before murmuring, “You alright, dove?” His voice was hushed, still laced with the remnants of desire, but softer—gentler now.

You nodded against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “Mmhm perfect,” you sighed, lifting your head slightly, “Didn’t hurt you, did I?” You only felt the shake of his head, carding your fingers through his hair.

His hands traced slow, absentminded patterns along your back, fingertips ghosting over your skin in a way that sent shivers down your spine—not from want, but from the sheer tenderness of it. You could feel the way his touch had changed, shifting from need to something even deeper, softer.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmured, already moving to press another kiss to your forehead before slipping away, shifting beneath you, reluctant but determined, carefully easing himself away despite how much he clearly didn’t want to let you go just yet. He pressed one last kiss to your shoulder before slipping out of bed, disappearing into the bathroom. The absence of his warmth made you shiver slightly, but he was back in seconds, a warm cloth in one hand, a glass of water in the other.

"Here, drink." He handed you the glass first, watching as you took small sips, his knuckles brushing against your cheek in quiet affection. Then, with gentle precision, he cleaned you up, his touch careful, attentive.

"Thank you, Rem," you murmured, voice drowsy—full of warmth.

He only smiled, shaking his head as he discarded the cloth and slipped back into bed beside you, immediately pulling you against his chest. "Don’t thank me, love,"

You curled into him, sighing as his hands resumed their slow, absentminded caresses—fingers gliding over your back, up your arm, through your hair. His lips pressed soft, fleeting kisses wherever they could reach—your forehead, your temple, the tip of your nose.

"There," he murmured, voice thick with exhaustion and warmth. "Better?"

You hummed in response, tucking yourself even closer. His scent surrounded you, comforting and familiar, and you could feel his heartbeat beneath your cheek, steady and strong.

"Much," you whispered, lips curling into a small content smile, Remus’ arms curled more securely around you, his breath evening out, and with the soft rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear, you let yourself drift off.

[ninasmovingcastle]

on domestic genshin men

by popular demand!

you know he's busy, but having him around is the ultimate source of comfort. when he's off duty, he'll make sure to make the most of your time together. you mean the world to him, and even when he is away, he always keeps a photo of you with him. you become his strength in his most difficult moments, and give him the energy to continue in his strenuous line of work. contrary to popular belief, he is an excellent cook, and loves to spoil you with all the food you love <3

↳ cyno, kaeya, tartaglia, neuvillette, heizou, kinich, ayato

he gives you all his hours, spending each precious moment with the person dearest to him. he'll plan his whole life around you, making sure he's giving you ample time and attention before considering other tasks. he won't let you lift a finger, taking care of household tasks when you're away, and his priority is always to make you as comfortable as possible. he'll carry you to bed if you fall asleep somewhere else, watching over you while you rest <3

↳ haitham, tighnari, diluc, itto, zhongli, baizhu, venti, wanderer

to keep you safe, he distances himself. his line of work is just too dangerous- it would put you at risk if you settled down in one place. he would never forgive himself if you were hurt because of him, so he uses different methods to communicate and remind you that he cares. he visits you at any chance he gets, never empty-handed. after all, it's the least he can do for you. he is honoured to be your lover, and your protector <3

↳ xiao, kazuha, albedo, wriothesley, gorou, aether, dainsleif

[tnsophiaayaonly]

LUTALICA

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ YOU'RE A YANDERE, WELL, AN EX-YANDERE TO BE SPECIFIC. AFTER COUNTLESS OF TIMES OF KILLING YOUR BELOVED, YOU FIND YOURSELF SUDDENLY GAINING AWARENESS DUE TO SOME VIRUS DISTORTING YOUR CHARACTER FILES. NOW YOU FIND YOURSELF WEIRDED OUT WHENEVER YOU'D FEEL SO INFATUATED OVER THIS GUY, AND YOU SWORE TO STOP BEING WEIRD. UNAWARE THAT YOUR DARLING'S GAINED AWARENESS TOO.

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ MODERN AU. HIGHSCHOOL AU. YANDERE. AETHER, SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER, XIAO, VENTI, KINICH, ORORON

╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ CONTENT WARNINGS: OBSESSIVE/CONTROLLING BEHAVIOR: EXPLICIT YANDERE THEMES AND EXTREME POSSESSIVENESS. OBSESSION AND STALKING, INCLUDING BEING FOLLOWED OR MONITORED. PHYSICAL RESTRAINT & KIDNAPPING: DEPICTIONS OF PHYSICAL RESTRAINT, CONFINEMENT, OR KIDNAPPING. UNLAWFUL DETAINMENT (E.G., LOCKING DOORS, FORCIBLY PREVENTING ESCAPE). CYBERCRIME & DIGITAL MANIPULATION: HACKING, INTERFERENCE WITH PERSONAL DEVICES, AND DIGITAL BLACKMAIL. EMOTIONAL & PSYCHOLOGICAL ABUSE: MANIPULATION, GASLIGHTING, AND COERCION DESIGNED TO CONTROL OR ISOLATE. THREATS—IMPLICIT OR EXPLICIT—THAT UNDERMINE PERSONAL AUTONOMY. NON-CONSENSUAL ACTS: ANY NON-CONSENSUAL OR FORCED BEHAVIOR, EVEN IF MASKED AS “PROTECTION”. ILLEGAL BEHAVIOR & UNLAWFUL ACTS: DESCRIPTIONS OR DEPICTIONS OF ACTIONS THAT ARE ILLEGAL (KIDNAPPING, DOCUMENT FORGERY, THEFT, ETC.) MATURE THEMES IN GENERAL. MENTIONS OF MURDER. MENTIONS OF BEING AWARE IN A GAME.

: ̗̀➛ note that I DO NOT condone such actions irl, and this is a work of fiction. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. part 2 (xiao, venti).

-`♡´- PART 1

╰⪼ AETHER - Class Rep.

A man of virtue—helpful, funny, kind, caring, and breathtakingly attractive. He has it all. Who wouldn’t love someone like him? Who wouldn’t yearn for him, worship him, drown in the delirium of his existence?

No wonder you’ve always felt that electrifying rush, the intoxicating ecstasy that floods your veins with every slow drag of the knife across his flesh. No wonder you’ve felt that dizzying euphoria each time you spilled the blood of another—man or woman—who dared to steal even a fraction of his attention away from you.

He was yours.

But then—

Distortion. A glitched-out, shredded mess of memories, like a dying screen flickering between past and present. When you finally come to, you're curled up in your bed, hair tangled, your skin fevered and slick with cold sweat. Your lungs fight for air as images flash behind your eyelids—a grotesque, jagged onslaught of death, of red-streaked corridors, of bodies slumped in pools of their own warmth, all because of you.

What the hell was that?

Your hands tremble as you grab your phone, fingers slipping against the smooth glass. The calendar stares back at you, unwavering in its cruel simplicity. Not the beginning. Not a fresh start.

The middle.

Your stomach twists violently.

That means you’ve already committed crimes. That means, despite this terrible, newfound awareness clawing at your mind, the stains on your hands have already set. The walls are already splattered. The game—the world—will not reset this time.

At school, every breath feels like an alarm sounding in your chest. The walls seem to close in, and the weight of invisible eyes presses against your back. You are a criminal walking in broad daylight, masquerading as something human.

You consider confessing. Throwing yourself at the mercy of the police, the authorities—anyone who could lock you away before you slip again.

But you don’t.

Fear has its hands around your throat, whispering of consequences, of punishments, of the irreversible.

And then—

“Oh, [Name]! I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can come to your house to help you with math today. Maybe another time?”

His voice is golden honey, smooth and easy, like the way the sun filters through autumn leaves.

Aether.

Your body reacts before your mind does, stiffening, and recoiling. He stands before you with that same effortless charm, his golden hair meticulously braided, strands catching the light like spun silk. He is still beautiful, still perfect—too perfect.

And yet.

Guilt lurches in your gut, a sickness festering beneath your ribs. You manage a stiff nod, then turn sharply on your heel and bolt before your expression betrays you.

Strange.

Very strange.

Aether watches you go, his head tilting slightly, brows furrowing. He expected you to whine, to insist, to grasp at his sleeve and beg for his time, like you always did. But instead, you—ran?

At first, he brushes it off. A bad day, perhaps. A sudden bout of shyness.

And yet—

He thinks about it. And thinks about it. And thinks about it.

You were always there. Always orbiting him, always finding ways to entangle yourself in his life. You chased him, your obsession like a suffocating force, relentless, inescapable. It had been overwhelming—yes—but predictable. A constant.

But now?

Now, he barely sees you. Now, your eyes flicker away the moment they meet his. Now, there is distance where there was once unbearable closeness.

It feels wrong.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d grown used to your presence until it was gone. How the absence of your obsession left him… cold.

Had he done something? Had he driven you away?

Had you found someone else?

Aether’s fingers twitch.

The message arrives when you least expect it.

Meet me up later at the dorms. Yours or mine?

You freeze, staring at the words on your screen.

No. No, no, no.

You’ve been so careful. So diligent. So determined not to fall back into old patterns.

Ignore it. Ignore him.

Your dorm is a sanctuary—a place to suffocate beneath your own guilt, to drown in your shame without prying eyes. You push the door open, stepping inside, closing it behind you—

Click.

The sound is quiet.

Too quiet.

Your breath stills, your fingers going rigid against the doorframe. Slowly, you turn.

And there he is.

Aether.

Your blood runs ice-cold.

“I always felt safe when you were around,” he murmurs, his voice softer than usual, dangerously intimate. His amber eyes are heavy-lidded, laced with something unfamiliar—something raw, something hungry. He takes a step forward. You take one back.

“But lately… I don’t know anymore.” Another step. Another retreat. “You used to be so close. Now, you’re so far away.”

Your back meets the wall.

Aether tilts his head, golden strands slipping over his shoulder. His hand rises, ghosting over your cheek with a gentleness that contradicts the steel beneath his words.

"Do you hate me now?"

The panic clogs your throat. "No—"

"Shh," he soothes, pressing a finger to your lips before dragging it down, pressing it flat over your chest. Your heart hammers beneath his palm. His lashes lower.

“Your heart’s racing…” His fingers trail lower, his grip settling firm against your waist. “…Just like it used to. Whenever I looked at you. Whenever I said your name.”

Your breath hitches, your body locking up as he pulls you closer—too close.

“Like always.”

His arms wrap around you, caging you in. You can’t move. Can’t breathe.

“Don’t worry.”

His lips brush against your hair.

“I missed you too.”

╰⪼ SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER - Outsider of the Drama Club. Rebel.

Maybe it was inevitable. Maybe you were always drawn to the unattainable, the cruel, the ones who stood above the world as if it were theirs to scorn. And he—he was the epitome of it all. A nightmare draped in elegance, venom wrapped in silk. Scaramouche was all sharp edges and hollow laughter, a phantom that commanded space with his mere presence.

He was unbearable. Unreachable. And utterly perfect.

You wanted to break past his walls, to carve yourself into his life, to make him see you. And if the rest of the world had to bleed away for that to happen—then so be it.

The others didn't deserve him. The parasites who giggled at his words, who brushed against him so casually, so carelessly, as if they had any right. They did not deserve to exist. Their very presence was an insult, a smear on the pristine canvas that was him.

And so, piece by piece, you erased them.

The first one was easy. A soft thing with wide, innocent eyes that adored him too much, who lingered just a little too close. You watched as life drained from their gaze, as their breath rattled out in broken whimpers. It was almost beautiful—the way the blade slipped into flesh, the way blood bloomed like an offering, warm and thick and real against your trembling fingers.

Every cut, every scream, every shuddering gasp—it was for him.

Yet he never noticed.

No matter how many of them you silenced, no matter how much devotion you etched into the world in his name, Scaramouche never noticed. He walked through life untouched, uncaring, his gaze never once landing on you with the reverence you craved.

You returned home to your shrine—his shrine. A sanctuary of madness. Photographs lined the walls like sacred scripture, capturing every fragment of his existence. The way the sun kissed his pale skin. The rare, unguarded softness when he thought no one was watching. The harsh, unrelenting glare that you had come to love more than life itself.

Strands of his dark indigo hair, stolen in the quiet of passing moments, lay bound together with fraying ribbons. Fabric from his discarded clothes, the scent of him still clinging to the fibers, folded with trembling care. A single, crumpled note—his handwriting scrawled across the page, meaningless to anyone but you.

You had built a temple in his name. A cathedral of longing, devotion, and sickness.

And yet—when you stood before it, staring at the madness of your own making, something inside you snapped.

You saw it. Truly saw it.

Not love. Not devotion.

Obsession.

Your stomach twisted, nausea rising like bile. You thought you had been pure, that your love had been something sacred. But the truth was carved into the blood on your hands, into the grotesque altar before you.

You were filth. No better than the ones you had slaughtered.

You couldn’t face him. Not like this.

So you ran.

For the first time, you abandoned him.

At school, you became nothing—a wraith in the halls, slipping through shadows, avoiding his gaze like it burned. You erased yourself from his world, just as you had erased the others from his presence.

And Scaramouche noticed.

The absence of your eyes on him was suffocating in its own right. He had grown used to your presence, to the quiet weight of your obsession curling around him like an unwanted curse. You were supposed to be there—watching, waiting, hanging onto his every breath.

But now?

Nothing.

No glances from the corners of your eyes. No lingering in doorways just to catch a glimpse of him. No quiet, frantic movements in your notebook whenever he spoke.

It was almost... eerie.

A slow smirk curled at his lips, but beneath it was something dark, something unreadable. His fingers twitched, restless. A storm brewed behind his gaze, a creeping, unspoken rage.

Did you think you could leave? Just like that?

Oh, how naive.

You had crawled through madness for him, had burned your soul away in his name. You were his, a pitiful, broken little thing that had spiraled into insanity just to get closer.

And now, you wanted to turn away? To pretend it had never happened?

Scaramouche does not lose what belongs to him.

You would come back.

One way or another.

Scaramouche never cared to notice things beyond himself. People came and went, their voices drowned in the white noise of his existence. He never wasted energy on trivial matters—least of all you.

You, with your cloying devotion. You, always at his heels like an obedient pet. You, whispering sweet, obsessive promises as if they meant anything.

You had been everywhere. The moment he turned his head, you were there. In class, in the cafeteria, lingering outside the bathroom, loitering in the hallways, even perched at the rooftop, always waiting for a glimpse of him.

And then, suddenly—you weren’t.

It was silent.

At first, he didn’t question it. Why should he? It wasn’t his concern. It wasn’t his problem. He should’ve felt relieved.

But the longer it stretched on, the more something gnawed at him.

You were nowhere.

And that—that was wrong.

For two weeks, one day, three hours, fifty-six minutes, and thirty-two seconds—he counted. His mind involuntarily tracked every second that passed without the weight of your suffocating adoration pressing into his skin. He didn’t care, yet somehow, he noticed.

Then, finally—he saw you.

You.

But you weren’t alone.

You were talking to someone else, laughing, smiling. Living.

Something in him snapped.

His smirk faltered.

You—his shadow, his puppet, his wretched little thing—were no longer circling him like a moth desperate to burn. You were free.

You had a life.

And for the first time, Scaramouche felt something eerily close to betrayal.

What happened to your promises?

Where were the feverish whispers of "I'd die for you, Scaramouche!" Where were the eyes that followed him in manic devotion, the trembling hands that clung to every word he uttered like it was scripture?

Had it all been a lie?

Had you really abandoned him?

The rage was instant. Consuming.

Without hesitation, he strode forward, cutting through the people surrounding you like they were nothing but fog in his path. Conversations halted, eyes turned, but he didn’t care.

Because there you were.

And you weren’t his anymore.

"You used to be all in—every moment, every breath, I knew you were mine." His voice was sharp, biting, loud. He didn’t bother to hide the venom in his words, his arms crossed in a defensive, possessive stance. His voice carried through the stunned silence. "Now it’s like you’ve just… vanished. Were you ever really sincere?"

You froze, your body going rigid.

A lump formed in your throat, suffocating, as you stared at him. He was livid, but there was something else buried beneath the rage—something worse.

"What—?" You barely managed to get the word out before he cut you off, voice rising, boiling over.

"You played me. You abandoned me! After everything you’ve done for me?!" His voice cracked slightly at the end, but it wasn’t weakness—it was fury. Frustration. A terrible, uncontrollable storm of emotions that even he didn’t know how to process.

His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palm as if trying to ground himself—to stop himself from grabbing you, shaking you, making you look at him the way you used to.

And yet—you didn’t.

Your eyes didn’t hold that obsessive gleam anymore. They held pity.

And then, you said it.

"Can you just please leave me alone?"

Firm. Cold. Unshaken.

And that—that hurt.

The words slammed into his chest like a blade. His breath hitched, his whole body stiffening. His lips parted, eyes blown wide, an expression of utter disbelief.

You had never, never spoken to him like that before.

And worse—you turned away.

You walked away from him.

You walked away from him.

The world blurred for a moment. He could barely hear the whispers around him, barely feel the weight of the stares pressing into him.

The air felt wrong.

His hands twitched, his heart hammered against his ribs, but his face remained eerily blank.

A slow, suffocating rage curled inside him.

No.

No, this wasn’t right.

You thought you could leave?

You thought you could escape him?

A smirk twitched at his lips, but his eyes were dark—hungry.

You’ll pay for that.

He’ll make you regret ever thinking you could live without him.

It wasn’t difficult.

You had made it easy for him.

Every whispered confession, every vulnerable fragment of yourself—you had offered them up willingly, blind with devotion. When you worshipped him, when you ached for him, you had bled your soul dry, spilling every truth at his feet like a devout follower praying to an unholy god. You had believed your love was unbreakable, that nothing could twist it into something ugly.

But love was a lie.

And now?

Now, those same truths would be the noose around your neck.

Scaramouche barely had to lift a finger. The dirt he had on you wasn’t something he had to dig for—no, you had given it to him, laid it bare in your desperation to be seen, to be acknowledged, to matter to him. And so, with meticulous precision and an insufferable smirk, he wove it all together, weaving your past into a beautiful, intricate cage.

A perfect blackmail.

The tapes spun between his fingers, glinting under the dim light, the cruel little wheel of fate turning in slow, damning circles.

Your sins, preserved forever.

Blood. So much blood. The camera didn’t shy away from the violence—how your blade had sunk into flesh, how wet, gurgling gasps had choked out their last breaths. How their fingers had twitched, grasping at the nothingness as they collapsed, lifeless. And you—standing above them, gloved hands stained red, chest heaving, lips parted with something too close to reverence.

Then, the photographs.

Dozens of them.

Some of him—captured in secret, stolen moments where he was unaware of your obsession clinging to him like a shadow. Pictures taken from alleyways, behind windows, through crowds. And some of you—uninvited, invasive, taken when you thought you were alone but weren’t.

He liked these.

He liked the way you looked in them—unsuspecting, fragile. He liked knowing the tables had turned, that he was watching you now, that your obsession had left you vulnerable enough for him to tear apart.

But the best part?

The confrontation.

Scaramouche didn’t need to hunt you down. He didn’t need to lure you in. You walked straight into his web, oblivious, thinking you were safe.

The door creaked open.

A sharp inhale.

Then—stillness.

You stood frozen in the doorway, the color draining from your face as your breath caught in your throat.

Scaramouche.

Lounging on your sofa as if he had always belonged there. One leg draped over the other, fingers lazily tapping against the stack of evidence in his hands, violet eyes gleaming with something unreadable. Something triumphant.

You felt the air shift—suffocating, cloying, thick with the unspoken understanding that this was no longer your space.

This was his.

Your voice broke, barely above a whisper.

"What are you doing here?" The words wavered, shaking under the weight of panic. "How—how did you get in?"

Scaramouche didn’t answer. He only tilted his head, watching you, letting the silence drag on long enough to coil around your ribs, squeezing. Then, ever so slowly, he lifted the tape, letting it spin between his fingers, his smirk widening.

"More importantly," he murmured, voice smooth, slow, deliberate, "what do you think I’m going to do with this?"

The world tilted beneath you.

Your pulse roared in your ears, the blood draining from your limbs as your stomach twisted into knots.

It was all there.

The evidence. The obsession. The murders.

Your sins, reflected back at you in sickening clarity.

You barely managed to breathe, barely managed to whisper out a choked, "I—I should just go to the police." The words left your lips before you could think them through, raw with desperation. "Tell them—tell them there's a criminal on campus—"

His laugh cut you off.

Sharp. Cold. Mocking.

"Oh?" He leaned forward, resting his chin in his palm, eyes glittering with amusement. "And what do you think happens next? Do they rush in, sirens blaring, guns drawn? Do they drag me away in chains?" His smirk widened, teeth flashing like a predator playing with its food.

His voice dropped, honeyed with false sympathy.

"And what do you think they’ll do when they see all of this?"

Your stomach lurched.

He didn’t need to say it.

You knew.

His expression softened into something almost pitying—almost.

"Face it," he murmured, letting the words settle into your skin like poison. "You're finished, no matter what you do."

A pause. A moment stretched too thin.

And then—casually, effortlessly—he leaned back, arms stretching along the sofa, as if this was all just an idle conversation.

"Or," he drawled, "you could be a good girl and go back to being my pet."

Your breath caught.

The words slithered over you like a collar snapping into place.

His voice was soft—so soft, so sweet—but beneath it was steel. An unspoken command. A leash tightening around your throat.

"It’s your choice, really," he continued, tilting his head. "But let’s be honest—there’s no different outcome. Either way, you’re never leaving me."

The finality of it crushed the breath from your lungs.

The realization clawed its way through your mind like a slow, sinking weight.

You had never been free.

You had never been in control.

And as Scaramouche's smirk widened, as he watched the last ember of defiance flicker and die in your eyes, you realized—

You never would be.

ONG I COULDN'T CONTAIN MY EXCITEMENT OF WRITING :(( AAAH

[swivi]

I swear fictional characters has made my expectations so high that I think I might die alone, because tf am I gonna do when someone asks me what my type is? Oh my bad, I'm into pixels and animated drawings. Hbu?🥰

[wanderingconstellations]

He'll eat you out in your sleep and wake you up just like that. Don't blame him, your pussy taste amazing and he's just pussydrunk off of it! He just loves when you squeeze your legs around his head and buck your hips to his tongue. He adores when you pull him closer to your sopping cunt. He'll lap and suck on your cunt until your overstimulated and can't even remember how many times you came. He'll fucking eat you out like a starved man who hasn't eaten in months and grind and thrust his hips onto the fucking mattress so he can also feel some friction. You just taste that good that he can't even pull away from your overstimulated pussy until his face is all covered in your sticky white cum all over his face :((

—— DILUC, Aether, Venti, CHILDE, Kazuha, GOROU, KAVEH, Tighnari, Wanderer, Cyno

[lavenderchqn]

Hello hello! Me again for my 2nd request!

My second request is all the Anemo guys with their s/o (reader). The guys never seen their s/o getting angry or furious before as they are like a happy go lucky or just generally calm and chillax.

But then one day, while the guys and their s/o were like walking/doing tasks/ or whatever you want them to do, someone decided to insult the guys (or smth) and it made reader so furious that they actually (about) to throw hands on the person and yelling at them for Insulting the guys.

I just want to see the Anemo's reactions seeing their s/o getting furious and throwing hands at the person and what will they do! If this request is a bit weird then I apologise in advance. Thank you for your time! Feel free to reject this request!

✧・┆pack a punch, babe

— all of us have a breaking point, some simply have it much further than others

requested by @miacara2; thank you so much for the request and many apologies for only getting around to it now

𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑

an absolute sweetheart, who will do everything in his power to stop you from doing anything, you’ll regret in the future. over the years he, unfortunately, got used to less than nice commissioners

Aether stands frozen. He’s unsure if it’s due to hearing the worst insult of his existence, or the power of the slap you just delivered across the commissioner’s face. 

“Repeat yourself.” You say, fuming as you tower over the commissioner. The tone of your voice is something the blond traveller had never seen before, visualising itself as sharper than thousand knives. You were usually so calm, never resorting to anger and violence. The kindest person he knew. “I said.” You speak again, even lower. “Repeat. Yourself.” 

The addressee, unfortunately, has other plans. They scoff, crossing their arms. “I said it’s good his sister went missing. Probably realised how useless he is and decided to save herself.” 

It feels like a blur. Aether flinches as he hears the painful words once more, even though he’s unable to move his body otherwise. He’s unsure himself, if he wishes to leave the situation or try and retort back. Some topics… are simply best avoided, regardless of how displeased you are with the person insulting. An abundance of thoughts is running through his head, making it difficult to focus on anything else.

You tsk, clearly unpleased with their answer. Without much hesitation, you grab the offender by their collar — finding the strength deep inside to lift them to meet your eye level. “Quite the nerve you have.”  Your voice is laced with so much venom, that it could kill. The same can be said about the tight grip you have of the commissioner’s shirt. “Oh, heavens, I’d love to make you eat dirt.” 

The expression on your face… is worrying. Your usually bright eyes are more akin to coal and a worrying smile graces your face. As if you’re about to do something, you will regret as soon as the adrenaline drops.  

Noticing your nails are very close to drawing blood, Aether manages to snap out of his frozen state. His hand darts out to gently but firmly grab onto your hand, untangling it from the commissioner’s shirt. “Love, stop.” He says, his voice soft but underlined with urgency. After all, he doesn’t know how much until you break completely. 

Your body turns to it, your fiery gaze meeting his. “Aether, they can’t just—“ You say, borderline offended at his lack for standing up for himself. 

“I know, Love” He interrupts. “It’s not worth it. Trust me.” 

𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈

god, there’s something so attractive about letting you take the lead and fight for him. Yeah, he’s more than capable of getting back at the offender on his own… but he cannot help but to fall more and more in love with you as you advocate in his place. 

The second the patron finishes uttering his comment about Venti making a nice ‘plaything’, the chair you’ve been sitting on screeches against the floor as you push it back. You’re pretty certain your partner is too shocked to do anything about the deplorable comment. Although you were never the one for violence, you wouldn’t be willing to let such harassment free. 

Before you make your move, you take note of your surroundings. The establishment is packed to the brim — bartenders are concerned with other clients. The rational part of you still wants to ask one of them for help. To throw the drunkard to the curb. The other part is fuelled with rage. How is it possible that people have so much audacity in them, you think. 

You don’t say anything as you grab the offender by the collar of his shirt, eyes ice cold. You jab your knee into his stomach, knocking the person out as they fall to the floor. You should’ve given them a chance to apologise, or anything… But there’s this inkling you have. They wouldn’t back down. This type of behaviour was more than likely a pattern for them, regardless of the gender of those who he was objectifying.

“Think twice before you open your mouth again, scumbag.” You comment, glaring at his unconscious body. You take a deep breath, trying to ground yourself. There are so many scenarios running through your head about how this will turn out. Is Venti alright? Oh, god. Venti saw all that.

“Windblume?” The man in question asks, grabbing the hem of your shirt. His voice carries a note of genuine surprise. He leans forward, assessing the situation at hand. His teal flicker between you and the person on the floor, almost as if trying to explain to himself this just happened. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you all over again.” He whispers. 

You shoot him a look, though there’s no heat behind them. “Ven, this isn’t funny. What he said was disgusting. I couldn’t just sit there and let him—“ 

“And you didn’t, Lovely.” He hums, gently taking your hand and leading the two of you towards the exit. He makes a small comment about a drunk patron losing consciousness towards the bartender as you leave. “Never expected you to be so hot when angry~” He giggles. 

“Hot?” You repeat his comment, raising an eyebrow. “Is that going to be your go-to whenever I defend you from being objectified?” You ask, your shoulders sagging as the tension goes away. 

“Oh, absolutely!” 

𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎

catches your hand before you even manage to land a hit. his behaviour might be cold and dismissive at your attempts at protecting him, but he'd rather not have you injured because of him. some battles need to be fought alone.

Your fist almost makes it. Key word — almost. Before you can process anything, it’s secured tightly in Xiao’s hand. “Breathe. In, out.” He says, not taking his eyes off the person who insulted him. His voice is commending, almost authoritative. He notices how your body shifts at his order, retracting back into the calm nature he’s grown used to. 

Still, he doesn’t let go. If anything, he tugs your body so you’re standing slightly behind him. He knows the second the insults turn to you — regarding the failed attempt at defending your partner, you’ll probably explode. You might be acting as if you’ve calmed down fully, given the failure, but there’s something about how you’ve grown silent Xiao doesn’t fully trust. 

And yet, he makes no comment on it. “Let’s go.” He says, turning to leave. He does, however, give one last look to the person who clearly has no respect for the others. “Just so you know,” He says, the look cold and calculated. “I have an excellent memory for people’s faces.” 

Once Xiao feels you’re far enough, he stops, halting your body with his. “Why?” The look he gives you is serious — amber eyes more confused than angry. 

“What do you mean, ‘why’?” Your brows are furrowed and a small pout graces your face. “You cannot tell me what they said was okay—“ Thinking about it back makes your hands clench. Despite everything that your partner did to ground you, there was still this lingering anger bubbling inside of you. 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a minute. He needs to process this. And act in a way that won’t set you off any further. “Don’t involve yourself in my affairs.” He states coldly. “Especially ones where you could end up injured.” 

Oh, that… That was a poor choice of words. You stare at him, surprised at what you’ve just heard. You’re biting your lips, rubbing your hands, muttering calming phrases. Anything but to lash out at him… It just hurts.

“Those,” Xiao starts, noticing the shift in your behaviour. “—Those are my battles to fight.” He grabs your shoulders, making sure to look directly into your eyes. “I understand your wishes to protect me, given I reciprocate them. However… I’d rather not see you resort to violence in my stead, alright?” 

𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐔

seriously, he was thinking of a good comeback and here you were, commenting in his stead… man, is that attractive or what? he’s so proud of you for not resorting to violence, not even noticing that you did so.

Heizou stands, a smile plastered on his lips. Gosh, there were so many good things to mention while he retaliated the stupid insults. There was no reason to resort to violence, given his thoughts on official work ethics. His eyes observe the opponent like a hawk. Looking, searching for the perfect topic to try and use to his benefit. 

What his plan does not include, is your sudden involvement. Sure, you’ve been right with him as he got read back and forth, but he truly did not consider something this minuscule would set you this off. 

“Tell me this…” You say, voice cold as you address the person who clearly doesn’t know what they’re talking about. “When did either of us ask for your opinion?” The look in your eyes is foreign to Heizou as he takes in your features. There’s this glint in them. Like you’re about to do something dumb. 

With how your opponent begins to stutter, unprepared for your outburst, you both know you’ve garnered the upper hand. They even try to back away, getting caught on your leg. Their fall is quite unfortunate — there for all to see. 

“Truly…” You roll your eyes and sigh as you lean over them. “Thank you for being a magnificent proof subject. Of evolution going backwards.” You smile, not acknowledging how insulting your comment was. “Let’s go~,” You say, turning around to link your arms with Heizou. 

It takes a while for him to say anything. He’s unsure of his feelings. On one hand, he wished to be the one to insult the person back. On the other… wow, you are so hot. And you didn’t have the need to resort to violence at the same time! Simply breathtaking. 

“Should’ve let me at ‘em,” Heizou states, pouting jokingly. “I had an even stronger comeback, babe!” 

“Good thing I stopped at words…” You mutter, your voice barely audible. Taking a deep breath, you come to a halt. Your hands instantly move upwards, poking your partner’s cheeks. “Would’ve been worse if I hadn’t had some self-restraint.” 

“Taught my love well~” He pinches your cheeks back. Grinning from ear to ear. With how he preached about being the losing party if won by using violence, he was glad you took his words to heart. 

“I mean, tripping them was the most subtle way I could’ve shown my anger. Could’ve ended with them being choked to death.” You state as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

Let's just say... Heizou hopes he won't ever witness you being this angry. Especially if it's him you'd be mad at.  

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀

isn’t bothered by the insults at all, since he knows who are the reliable sources for opinion of his character. doesn’t stop you from the fight, but also won’t instigate for you to do it in the first place. after all is done, if you happen to sustain any injuries, be assured he will be here to nurse you back to health. 

In your mind, you feel pathetic. To be resorting to scratching somebody else during a fight? Not to mention — getting this angry in the first place. You had absolute confidence in Kazuha standing up for himself, but something about the sheer insults thrown in his face made your blood boil. There was barely any conscience you had in your mind.

The more you feel in touch with your body, the more you freeze. Nails are digging into your palms, probably leaving crescent moon-shaped indents. You’re sure the second your second-guessing is discovered by the one who insulted your partner, you’ll become their next target. Biting your lower lip, you get up slowly to leave. 

“Are you alright, Darling?” Kazuha asks as he takes your palm in his. His voice is calm — too calm for somebody who just got insulted to the moon and back. Is he upset with you? You hope he's not. 

“Mhm…” You answer as quietly as possible. The second he squeezes your hand a little too hard in hopes of grounding you further, you feel a sudden shock of pain. You hiss at the sudden tension, your eyes tearing up. Heavens above, were you really going to cry over this?

“Oh!” He notices your discomfort, letting your hand go in an instant. “Sorry there, love.” He whispers, halting you for a second. He examines your hand, as gently as possible, finally noticing a tiny cut on your finger. “Defended me so ferociously out there, didn’t you?” He adds, smiling to himself. Kazuha places a small kiss on your finger, hoping to make it better. 

“I just— how are you not equally angry…?” You ask, eyes fixed on your hand. The feeling of being pitiful still overwhelms your body. There were about seventeen different ways you could’ve resolved the situation. “I swear, my body could boil from the rage.” 

Kazuha doesn’t answer you, at least not at first. It’s only when you return home and he’s preparing a plaster for your hand, that he speaks about the matter once more. 

“I didn’t believe a word they said,” He states, gently disinfecting your wound. “There are others, whose opinion matters more to me, rest assured, darling.” The second he notices your eyes tear again, he wipes them away. “That’s why I’m not angry. Especially at you.” 

You— Him— How—? What sort of psychic is he to know everything you thought? 

“Defend me all you wish, Love.” He says, looking at you with eyes filled with love. “I’ll nurse you to health regardless.” 

𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐑

so amused — it’s so refreshing to see you finally lose control. enables you to do be even more aggressive as he snickers from a safe distance. sorry, but you’re being teased for that for at least a month… 

“If you'd clench your fists, you would knock out the guy properly!” He half-whispers, embracing you from behind. With how he’s acting, he’s like a devil on your shoulder �� wanting to cause as much chaos as possible. 

You raise your eyebrow, half amused-half concerned. You’re not the one who was just insulted to the moon and back, and yet your partner has nothing but a dangerous smirk on his face. Is your reaction that entertaining? Clenching your fists, you take a deep breath. Given how the situation’s looking, you’ll be the one doing the heavy lifting grounding yourself. 

“Oh, that?” You ask, tone higher as if mocking your opponent. “This was only a warning slap.” You roll your eyes, zeroed in on the person crouched on the ground, holding their cheek. Welp, it seems the time to ground yourself is not here yet. You want to try and give them a good glare, but it turns out useless as your back almost breaks with how your boyfriend is holding onto you. 

“Come on…” He tsks. “Don't leave it at a warning slap? Let’s at least knock him out!” 

You sigh, shaking your head. “You’re really not helping,” You mutter, shifting slightly in his grip. 

“But I’m having fun,” he hums, resting his chin on your shoulder. His arms are like iron bars around your waist, keeping you close. By proxy, he’s keeping you from doing something he knows you’ll regret the second the adrenaline runs out. Even within his questionable sense of humour, there’s a part of him that knows you'll scold yourself for acting like this. Whatever this is.

The person on the ground groans, shifting his glare between you two. “Tch. Batshit crazy couple.” 

You tilt your head. “You’re the one on the floor. You have no right of speech.” Leaning back against Wanderer, you can feel his snickering at your comment. 

It doesn’t take much for your opponent to scoff and scramble up to his feet. He’s staggering and walking as quickly as possible, just in case. 

“Aw, what a shame,” Your boyfriend sighs, finally loosening his grip. “Just when it was getting interesting.” He grins, mischief oozing out, as you look him up and down — wondering how on earth, did you end up with him. “Would’ve been less interesting if you had to lift a finger, wouldn’t it?” You ask. 

“Sure would,” He teases, corners of his lips twitching upward. “Besides,” He elongates the word. “You love me regardless. As you should, by the way.” 

You huff, playfully shoving him away. “Come on, let’s go before I actually listen to you and punch someone for real.” 

date of posting — february 27th 2025

[sprouts-xreader-stories]

Focus! :(

REBLOGS > LIKES

Requested : No

Genre : Fluff, Canon X Reader, Albedo X Reader, Arataki Itto X Reader, Scaramouche X Reader, Kinich X Reader, GN!Reader, Separate

POV : Second Person

Warnings: Not many! Just a few minor curses here and there. One mention; Itto calls you wife once. Otherwise, entirely GN. Also, mentioned height difference when it comes to Scara; you’re shorter than him.

Albedo ~

You groaned internally. He was rambling again. He had a nice voice, sure, but you just… Weren’t feeling well.

“Bedo,” you called. He didn’t hear you. “Bedo,” you repeated, louder. He still didn’t hear. You sighed and pushed yourself off the table, careful not to knock any of the glass vials over. His coat hung off your shoulders, and you carefully pulled it back up before walking to him.

“Albedo.” Your voice had gone deadpan. He still wasn’t paying attention. And so, abruptly, you kissed him.

“So… Those two would go toge-”

He dropped whatever he was holding, the (empty) glass clattering to the floor. Miraculously, it didn’t break. Albedo paused entirely, bright blue eyes flickering down to you before he gave into the soft feeling of your lips. He was the one to pull away. “…uh… you needed me?”

Itto ~

You grinned from your spot on the grass. Watching Itto (try to) train before getting bored distracted by the kids running amok and going to play with them instead was stupidly funny. Currently, he was feigning a failure. The children were playing hide and seek. And Itto was standing right next to one of them. And pretending he couldn’t see them at all.

“Oh, this-… Ugh! Where could they have gone?” He pondered aloud, grinning. Sharp fangs glinted in the light as he abruptly grabbed the squirming kid from behind a barrel. “Oh. That’s where.” He lightly poked her before setting her down, watching her run off.

“Itto, we gotta go,” you called out. But your boyfriend didn’t hear you. You smirked. You knew exactly what to do. So, you crouched down and hid.

“…who’s next…and-! Wait where’d they go-”

He noticed. And immediately, he went around, carefully taking the kids’ from their hiding places. “Alright, kiddos, we had fun, but I really gotta get going my wife’s disappeared-” He explained, almost too quickly for the young ones to understand. But, they went around, trying to help him find you.

“Over here!” A young boy called out, pointing at where you were. You crawled out and crossed over to your boyfriend. He just sighed lightly. “Don’t do that again.” “Maybe listen next time, and I won’t.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

Scaramouche ~

Both of you were particularly quiet. Like he said, “It’s rather pathetic to force a conversation just to occupy silence”. So, most of your time was spent in silence, just enjoying each other’s presence.

You were completely silent as you chewed on the lotus crisps he’d made. For who… Well, for what his past was, he was a decently good cook. He was entirely focused on the ingredients, humming something of a soft song.

“Scara?” You spoke up after swallowing. He didn’t respond. You frowned. “Scara…?” You repeated. He still didn’t answer. You sighed softly and got off the stool, walking to him. “Scara…” You carefully touched his arm. He glanced at you, but didn’t speak. Without saying a word, he pulled you closer, in front of him. Caged in by his arms in something like a hug; he was busy chopping up whatever was in front of him, sure, but you were begging for his attention. And even someone as strong-willed as him couldn’t resist.

He didn’t speak. Just held you close, his chin resting atop your head.

Kinich ~

“Ajaw. Shut up, you damned dragon.” Kinich hissed. He was pissed off with the thing, at this point. “Ichi,” you murmured. Ajaw kept bickering, complaining, just being annoying. Kinich waved him away. He didn’t feel well today, and Ajaw wasn’t helping.

“Ichi, love,” you repeated, frowning. He didn’t hear you. Ajaw was drowning you out. “Ajaw. Can you stop, please? Just for a sec.” “No, Kinich’s sick, which means he might die soon-!” The dragon cackled, much to Kinich’s annoyance.

“Go. Away.” Kinich swatted at the pixels. Ajaw just laughed and kept eagerly waiting, making small sounds of excitement. “Ichi?” You finally started, once the room was quiet. “Hm.” Good. There was his attention.

“Uh-… Your food’s done.”

@drxgonspine , @akuutff , @emotionalsupportgoblin420 , @sh0uz , @vexter-the-comedian

[zuyoo]

grunt or whimper?? g. impact! ﹙외설 ﹚pt. 01

CONTENT WARNING — nsfw, mdni. genshin impact men x gn!reader !!! the term “pretty”

FEATURING — 6REEZE: kazuha, heizou, wanderer/scaramouche, venti, xiao, aether

ZUYOO’S NOTES — random thoughts while working on something else, who should i do next? :3

aether

⟢ grunt!! from the amount of adventures he went on before settling down with you, he would give off more of a grunt-er during sex type of vibe.

xiao

⟢ whimper. he— HE WHIMPERS. no questions asked!!! he’s most likely a virgin too, but y’know, he looks like the type who’d have a very high sex drive aft experiencing it.

kazuha

⟢ ohhhhh…. thas kinda tough… i honestly think both but grunt-leaning… or- ORRR, hear me out…!!! a heavy breather during sex typa person. I KINDA SEE THE VISION. but he definitely is someone who will shower you with praise!!!

scaramouche

⟢ i love him so much omg, and i defo see him being both… whimper leaning—he tries to hide it, so don’t u dare mention it or he’ll revoke your sexual activity card for a week !!!!

heizou

⟢ he looks tough but is a mess during sex. always super busy solving cases and all, that when he comes home and you greet him good evening by spoiling him rotten, he just can’t help but whimper in sensitivity!!!!

venti

⟢ he is so girlypop coded but hes 100% a grunter :33 given how he’s lived hundreds of years already, he has so much love to give to control the pace when he’s thrusting up ur pretty pretty hole <33

© zuyoo — do not copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission. i only upload my work in tumblr.

[chuusmuts]

thank you pretty ladies and gaes here are the meals

(๑ˊ͈ ॢꇴ ˋ͈)〜♡॰ॱ;

waking up nude beside your best friend!aether

losing your virginity by helping catboy!kabukimono

having a comfort sex with enemy!diluc

kazuscara breeding you

having a secret relationship with boyfriend!wanderer

having a sleepover at your boyfriend!kazuha's house

having a little concert with friend!xiao

submissive, pathetic, nerd, clingy, boobies obsessed scaramouche

innocent!kabukimono series

innocent!kabukimono going wild

innocent!kabukimono finding out you lactate

innocent!kabukimono being needy

innocent!kabukimono losing his mind

[kzrosa-writes]

4TH DAY OF ADVENT— DECORATING THE TREE

featuring aether, alhaitham, ayato, capitano, childe, diluc, dottore, kaeya, kaveh, kazuha, neuvillette, pantalone, thoma, wriothesley and zhongli ♡ likes, reblogs n follows are appreciated ! <3

prev day ♡ advent calendar masterlist

— lets you hang the decorations yourself ♡

he isn't a big fan of decorating the tree, but he would keep you company as you decorate. despite his disinterest for decorating, he would help you with advice and give you his opinions if you ever asked for them. of course, he isn't mean; he'll help you with things if you're struggling. can't reach the top of the tree? he'll do it for you! unsure where to put these ornaments? he'll place them for you. he'll gladly spend time with you by the couch as you decorate the tree, chattering about random nonsense with you. once you're done with the decorations, he would stand up and kiss you, telling you that you did a splendid job at decorating. the two of you would end the night by enjoying each other's warmth as you cuddle together by the fireplace.

diluc, alhaitham, dottore, capitano, zhongli

— help you with the decorations ♡

this man will do absolutely anything to spend time with you. when you asked him to help you decorate the christmas tree, he hesitated not even a second before agreeing. preparing all the necessary materials and ornaments, he was eager to start. half of the time his focus wouldn’t even be on decorating the tree — it would be on you! he would take every chance he gets to touch you, even if his hands were covered in glitter. wrapping his arms around your waist as you’re placing baubles on the tree, ruffling your hair as you’re sorting through the boxes for more decorations, giving you unexpected kisses while you’re focused on hanging the ornaments, this man really doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself. his playful, loving demeanour goes far, even decorating and wrapping you with christmas lights. switching the christmas lights on, he would shower you with his endless affection as you shone brightly from the lights. giving you a sweet kiss that would soon enough turn into a playful fight between the two of you on who looks pretty with lights wrapped around them, you truly wonder when you two will ever finish decorating. 

neuvillette, kazuha, wriothesley, childe, aether, kaeya

— does everything on his own ♡

this man will never let you lift a finger unnecessarily. he believes that it should be his job to do everything for you, and that you should be spoiled and pampered. letting you relax by the fireplace or the sofa, he would play you a christmas movie to keep you occupied as he works on the tree. if you really insist on helping him out, he would make sure to watch out if you’re struggling. he’ll give you the easier tasks to complete, such as picking out the colours for the tree, choosing where the ornaments should be placed, or even placing a few ornaments on the lower section of the tree. don’t mistake his actions for being controlling though, he just doesn’t like the thought of you lifting a finger! you’re his lover, and he wants you to feel comfortable and relaxed with him. by the time he finishes decorating, he will turn on the christmas lights and enjoy a nice hot cocoa with you, laying with you by the sofa as you watch christmas classics in his arms. 

thoma, pantalone, ayato 

— lets you do it at first, ends up doing it himself ♡

at first, he would let you handle the decorations, thinking that you’d be fine without his help. of course, he would still help you out if you needed his assistance. but eventually, his meticulousness would be shouting at him as he watched you decorate. he would notice the little details and minor flaws in the decorations — his eyes would immediately catch a glimpse of that one ornament that wasn’t hung properly. or perhaps he noticed that a few flowers weren’t spaced out evenly. regardless of what it was, he would stand up and offer to fix it for you. his perfectionism would eventually get the best of him, and he would urge you to ‘rest’ by the couch, offering to take over where you left off. before you knew it, he would finish the rest of the tree on his own, the ornaments neatly arranged all over the tree. he would smile at you sheepishly, giving you a soft kiss on the cheek before apologising to you, telling you that he got carried away with the decorations. in the end, he’ll make it up to you with sweet kisses and cuddles in living room with the christmas lights on, enjoying his warmth and presence. 

kaveh, dottore

♡ masterlist ・ navi ・ request rules —

[dreamy-moon-cat]

━━━━➳༻❀✿❀༺➳━━━━

✧•° 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔..~°•✧

║➳ 𝐼𝑑𝑜𝑙!6𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑧𝑒 : ♪ 𝑆𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑒/𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑟, 𝑋𝑖𝑎𝑜, 𝑉𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖, 𝐾𝑎𝑧𝑢ℎ𝑎, 𝐴𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝐻𝑒𝑖𝑧𝑜𝑢 ♪

║➳ 𝑃𝑜𝑣: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 [𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒] 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑'𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙. 𝐹𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑦 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑝 𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑛𝑣𝑜𝑙𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑟𝑜ℎ𝑖𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡.

— 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙, 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒.

— 𝑚𝑜𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑛 𝑖𝑑𝑜𝑙 𝑎𝑢, 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓, 𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝

◤✎...◢ ʜɪ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ! ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ʏᴏᴜ ꜱʜᴏᴜʟᴅ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴇɴɢʟɪꜱʜ ɪꜱ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍʏ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ. ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ,ɴᴊᴏʏ!~

·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

『✦』𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞/𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐫

- 𝑉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 7:55 𝑝.𝑚.

Usually you write to him first, but sometimes he can take the initiative and share something himself by writing or recording a voice message. But usually these are small messages about how he is, where and what he is doing. He also asks you the same thing during the day. It often reminds you to do something, eat or relax, adding at the end what an dummy you are to forget about such basic things. At the end of the day, he always writes that he has already finished and warns if something goes wrong and/or he'll be late.

Like this time, the dance practice dragged on until late in the evening, so Scaramouch would definitely write down to you that he would be late and he will record a voice message mentioning how tired he is and how his whole body aches. And he will complain that when he became an idol, he was not ready for the fact that he would have to suffer with learning choreography more than with recording songs. In the background, at the end of the message, Heizou's voice could be heard calling Scaramouch by some stupid nickname he had recently invented, teasing that if he did not hurry up, they would stay even longer.

"- How you all fucked me up. If you call me that again, I'll personally lock you in the back room with inventory for all exits! That's it, fuck off. I'm going home,you loser's. " It seems that it was the last straw for Scaramouch and he left slamming the door after throwing something at Heizou. Sometimes, because of his character, he and the team have some disagreements and disputes, but after a while, when he cools down, everything comes back to normal.

" - I'll be home in half an hour. Today we were with the team at the mall, I bought you your chocolate that you wanted to try and talked about the other day. I don't understand how you can eat this sugar crap. In general, I will try to return as soon as possible. I ... love you, I'll be home soon"

It seems he stayed alone and softened recording a second voice message for you, saying, albeit still confused and somehow uncertain, but so tenderly and tremulously his words about love for you.

『✦』𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨

- 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒/𝑆𝑀𝑆. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 6:00 𝑝.𝑚

He usually writes a small message, briefly but to the point.

This time he would warn you that he will be a little late, because they are recording a song in the studio today, but that he will be returning home in an hour. He will ask how you are doing and, of course, in the end he will add that he missed you and loves you.

Recently, he began to add a smiley face to the words about love, because Venty once made a remark to him that not only does he write only on business, but that text also looks terribly dry. Xiao may have been annoyed at him for sticking his nose where he wasn't asked, but he took note worrying that you were thinking the same way. You thought it was very sweet.

"...I know we had plans to watch this movie together tonight, but it seems I'm going to be late. Sorry. I'll try to come back as soon as possible, I love you, light of my life♥️ "

『✦』𝐕𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢

- 𝐿𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑/𝑜𝑟 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑒𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 6:00 𝑡𝑜 8:50 𝑝𝑚.

Venty always takes everything off. Whether they are recording a song, shooting a music video or during a break - he always sends you either voice or video messages in his free (or not at all) time. There can be 20 or more of them per day. He likes to share with you everything that is happening around him, because he believes that he is getting closer to you during.

And this time was no exception. Venty recorded several video messages with how they were doing choreography, how Scaramouche again got into a fight with Heizou because of his unsuccessful jokes about the blue-haired man, and in the last seconds of the message it was seen how Skara threw something at Heizou. The video ends here. The last one was a voice message that he was already on his way home and he had a gift for you.

" - I've already called a taxi and I'll be home soon, Windbloom. I missed you so much! By the way, I bought something for you today when I went to the mall with the guys during the break. I've missed you so much and I'm already flying to you on the wings of the wind! ~ See you soon, I love you~"

『✦』𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚

- 𝑅𝑒𝑔𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑚𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 6:40 𝑝.𝑚.

Kazuha is still a romantic, so he often writes to you during the day if something impressed him and reminded him of you, or if he and the guys went somewhere, he wants to take you to a place that he liked. His messages are full of feelings and very gentle and sweet, it seems like that you are reading some kind of quote or excerpt from a book. In voice messages, even small ones, he also often talks about you. There was not a single message where he did not at least once say that he loves you and that he thinks of you, that you are his muse and inspire him.

You were planning to spend the evening together today, but unfortunately he was delayed at the recording studio of the song. That's why he warned you that he would be late and apologized for having to cancel plans for the evening.

"...I'm sorry about what happened, my love, please don't be bored. I will try to finish all the business as soon as possible. I will definitely compensate you for tonight ,on the next weekend, which we will spend just the two of us."

A minute later, he sent a voice message: "- And I love you~" He added that. You heard by his voice that Kazuha was tired, but he noticed that he had not written a word about love, so he hurried to record a voice message.

『✦』𝐀𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

- 𝐿𝑜𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑..𝐴 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙? 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑖𝑠 7:00 𝑝.𝑚

Oh, he's a tricky one, especially when it comes to you. Yes, he gives his best at work, during concerts, and in principle, he really treats his work with soul and zeal, sometimes even overdo it more than others. But still, he has his own "brakes" which are you. If Iter said that he would be at home specifically at such a time, he would be at home at that time. There was not a single case that he was late. Sometimes it's even embarrassing in front of the manager and the rest of the guys that your boyfriend treats time like that and often puts them in an awkward position if he need to stay somewhere and finish it, and he doesn't care and he goes home where you are waiting for him.

During the day, he can throw off cute stickers if he can't write to you at all, he also records a voice message telling you something and asking how you're doing, and that he misses you terribly and, as agreed, he will be home on time.

This time, during the shooting of the video, he and the team had to stay for a couple of hours and finish shooting, but, Aether it Aether. He had already gone home as soon as the hands on the clock reached 7:00 p.m. The manager just had to be indignant and think about how to get out of the situation while the idol was walking to the taxi talking to you on the phone. You asked several times if everything was okay, but he assured you that everything was fine and there would be no problems, and that it was time for you to get ready, as soon as he arrived you two would go on a date.

"Don't worry dear, everything is really fine. I'm already walking up to the car and I'll be home in 20 minutes. You should have packed up by now. I love you, I'll be there soon."

There were beeps, you just sighed, hoping that everything was really okay. As a result, the release of the video was delayed, but it didn't bother Aether at all, because it was important for him that he was able to spend the evening with his beloved.

But for the sake of decency, Aether really tries and gives his best during work, he comes to the studio before everyone else, so he leaves the same way earlier. He often additionally studies vocals or learns choreography and his parts, bringing everything to perfection, so that such antics are forgiven by virtue of his efforts.

『✦』𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐳𝐨𝐮

- 𝑉𝑜𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠, 𝑣𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑚𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠/𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑖𝑠 10:00 𝑝.𝑚.

Heizou often records something funny, flirts with you, and records funny voice messages with typical tackles. It used to embarrassing you a lot, but now you just laugh and think it's funny. He also often throws you photos or videos from tiktok with seals with the words "this is us" or "me and you". Also, Heizo writes every time you get bored or think about writing him yourself. It seems as if he reads your thoughts even without being around and easily anticipates your actions.

You knew that today they and the team were shooting a video for a new song, so you tried not to bother him, even though you were bored and sad alone. Usually you can keep yourself busy, but this evening the longing did not let you go for a very long time. You've been looking at the phone lying next to you for several minutes, and as soon as you picked it up, a notification came. You looked around, suspecting that cameras were installed at home because, well, how could he pick the moment so clearly again? Heizou recorded a voice message saying that he being a little late, but not much for a long time because there was one final scene left to finish. After sending a video message from the set, he himself stands in front of the mirror and winks and shows a smiling heart. You involuntarily blushed while smiling. How handsome he is in the chosen image for the clip.

" - I'll be a little late, but don't miss me too much there. I will be going home soon, it remains to finish the last scene. So, as soon as I get home, get ready, tomorrow is the day off, so tonight I won't let you fall asleep, I have big plans to show how much I love you and I'm going to pamper you so that you forget even your name~".

You were sitting all red, thinking what a sly fox and impudent he is. But you was looking forward to his return home, knowing that Heizou would definitely fulfill his promise.

☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

@ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍʏ-ᴍᴏᴏɴ-ᴄᴀᴛ • ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴘʟᴀɢɪᴀʀɪꜱᴇ, ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ᴏʀ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ! ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ ~ ♡

[rubikor]

[starhrtz]

❝MAKING COOKIES, YOU STIR AND MIX !❞

summary: food is always the way to someone's heart right?

featuring: aether, kazuha, xiao.

notes: prompt by anonnie!! yeah i can only write for anemo guys what about it 😢

KAZUHA — who's first stop when he goes back to liyue is always your food stall, he often offers Beidou and the crew to help them offer just so he can have an excuse to see you. Kazuha always orders a bunch of meals from you while he may not say it out loud it's definitely just an excuse to admire you whilst you prepared all the meals with dedication.

AETHER — who would always come back to the nation where you have a stall and would blame it on Paimon if you ever ask why he keeps visiting you when he is meant to do quests in another nation. "It's Paimon who wanted to stop by! You know how hungry she can get" he'd say with a sheepish grin, even if his eyes linger a bit too long on your face, betraying his true feelings.

XIAO — who would always find time to head to your food stall in Liyue, despite his responsibilities as an adeptus. If you ever ask why he keeps visiting you when he has so much to do, he'd blame it on needing to check up on you and the people of Liyue. "It's important to make sure that no demons have gotten into Liyue Harbour," yet with the way he looks at you, with a flicker of warmth in his usually stoic eyes, perhaps there might be another reason entirely?

[shepherdofthecorn]

I drew my Apatite Singing karaoke because I can't stop thinking about it