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celestemona · 5 months ago

Note

no because imagine their reactions when genshin dads felt their baby kick for the first time, i'd be crying imagine the 'i made this' or 'omgomgomgomg' reactions

no because i had to write it. thanks anon ♡♡

𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐒

and they feel their babies kicks for the first time.

pairing: dad & husband! alhaitham, cyno, kaveh, kaedehara kazuha, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley + heizou x fem! reader

cw: original characters, slightly ooc to fit the plot, domesticity, fluff. pregnant reader. use of endearment names; arabic, japanese, farsi & french terms. approximately 4.1k words. not beta-read.

reblogs and comments are appreciated ♡

Alhaitham

The first time you and your husband felt your baby moving was in the comfort of your home. The soft glow radiating from the fireplace cast swirling shadows on the walls, highlighting the warm and inviting space. You and Alhaitham were snuggled comfortably in your favorite reading nook—an old leather armchair adorned with pillows and a thick-knitted blanket. You made yourself comfortable in his lap, with your back resting against his chest, while one of your husband's muscular arms cradled you tenderly.

As reading was a crucial part in your married life, every night you and Alhaitham found yourselves sharing stories. This time, you narrated aloud an ancient legend to Alhaitham and the baby in your womb. The tale’s language, despite being dead and little known, was not foreign to him. In fact, the scribe delighted in the tales whispered in your serene and melodic voice.

“According to the desert dwellers, the world was once ruled by a king named Al-Ahmar,” you began, your tone carrying a sense of mystery, “a king of warriors, horticulturists, and sages. He controlled the winds that whistled through the desert, the dunes turned bright silver by the moonlight, and the thousand and one Jinn that hid in the night and the calls of owls.”

Although he already knew the story very well, Alhaitham listened to you attentively—the subtle glow of affection in his eyes watching you lovingly as his thumb traced circles on your waist in a comforting gesture.

As your voice continued to flow, a subtle yet distinct vibration occurred within your being, making you pause reading for a moment. Your eyes widened in surprise as the realization hit you, drawing a loud sigh from you.

“‘Haitham,” you said, voice shaking slightly with emotion, “I think… I think the baby just moved.”

Your husband's eyes widened briefly before a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He placed a hand on your belly and his baby's little feet stretching your skin were felt under his palm. It was a feeling that filled him with warmth, love, and joy.

“It's the first time?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper and his warm hand still under your belly.

You nodded, your eyes shining in pure happiness. “Yes, it is.”

Alhaitham's smile widened, and he gently stroked your belly with a reverent touch. “It’s extraordinary,” he said softly. “Our little one is already making his presence known.”

You rested your head on his shoulder, and together, you savored the intimate moment. The book remained forgotten for now, overshadowed by the miraculous reality you were experiencing.

In the peaceful comfort of your home, surrounded by the warmth of love and the promise of the future, you shared a precious moment of connection that would be treasured forever.

Cyno

The soft, golden light of twilight filtered through the trees of the Avidya Forest as Cyno and you walked back home after a visit to Tighnari.

Although the forest guard was against the idea of seeing his very pregnant friend moving excessively and unnecessarily across the Sumerian plains, Tighnari knew that going against your stubbornness was a losing battle. Therefore, he ended up welcoming both you and your husband warmly into his dwelling.

When you finally said goodbye after a day full of conversations and delicacies cooked by Collei, the birds were already back in their nests, and the serene environment of the forest was a welcome backdrop—although Cyno could see the exhaustion etched into your face. The weight of your growing babies seemed to be taking an increasing toll.

Cyno supported you as you walked, his arm around your waist. “You look tired. Let’s take it slow,” he said gently.

You nodded, your hand resting on your stomach. “It's just... The twins' weight is a little overwhelming today. I’m more fatigued than I expected.”

You walked slowly for a few more minutes until you arrived at an abandoned cabin nestled in the heart of the forest. Cyno helped you inside, guiding you to a comfortable seat by the window, where the soft light of the setting sun bathed the empty room in a warm glow.

As you settled into the chair, you shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a more relaxing position, although all you got in response was a dull pain shooting down your spine. A resigned sigh left your lips as you just accepted the situation you were in and waited for the discomfort to pass.

It was when your husband left the room to get something that could help with your relief that you felt a strange, soft vibration in your belly. It was as if butterflies were swirling inside you, bringing you a feeling of strangeness but delight. When you realized what it was really about, your eyes widened in surprise.

“What's the matter? Something wrong?” Cyno asks with concern visible in his expression.

“I think the babies are moving.”

Cyno’s face immediately lit up in excitement, and he approached you, kneeling in your front. His hands were hesitant to touch your stomach and he looked at you. “Can I...?” he asked softly.

You smiled widely and nodded, placing his hand on the spot where you felt the movement. “Of course you can, hayati. You should be able to feel them now.”

Cyno closed his eyes briefly as he felt the small kicks and rhythmic changes beneath his palm. His expression softened into one of admiration and tenderness. “This is incredible,” he murmured. “They are already so active.”

“Tell me about it,” you say with a slight chuckle, “Now it is explained why I’ve been going to the toilet so much the last few days. These little jackals have been squeezing my poor bladder.”

Cyno laughs along with you. However, his eyes were still mesmerized by your belly, his hands lovingly following his children's movements.

At that moment, the world around Cyno didn't seem to exist. It was just him, you, and your babies. You shared a quiet, intimate moment, your connection with your unborn children deepening. The forest outside was peaceful, but inside the cabin, the air was filled with a palpable sense of joy and anticipation.

Kaedehara Kazuha

The sun shone high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the peaceful meadow where Kazuha and his family were enjoying the day. The gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the surrounding trees, their whispers blending harmoniously with the gentle melody of nature. Kazuha sat against a large oak tree with you resting your head in his lap, eyes closed in contentment.

Kazuha's fingers skillfully traced patterns on a windblown leaf, his serene expression a testament to his deep connection to the natural world. Your three-year-old son, Kazumi, ran around the field happily, his laughter mixing with the rustling of the grass as he played with a small wooden toy.

You, with your belly softly rounded with your second child, sighed softly—contentment evident in your relaxed posture. You placed your hands gently on your stomach, stroking it absently.

“I think she’s finally awake,” you murmured.

Kazuha's eyes softened as he looked at you. Until that day Kazuha had never witnessed his unborn daughter moving in your womb. The baby always seemed to be too sleepy to recognize her father's constant presence. “Is that so?”

Before you could nod, a precise kick hit the area above your navel. Your eyes widened at the force of the action, but an ironic laugh soon followed. “Absolutely. Looks like someone woke up to say hi to Papa.”

Kazuha's heart filled with an abundance of emotions. He carefully moved his hand to your belly feeling his little girl's rhythmic kicks. To him, the sensation was delicate, like the wings of a butterfly brushing his palm.

Kazumi, noticing that his parents seemed to be engrossed in something else, staggered towards you with wide curious eyes. He climbed into your thighs and his small hands also rested on your rounded belly. “What is it, ‘Kaa-chan?”

You smile gently, extending your hand to guide the boy's little ones to where the baby is moving. “It’s your little sister, Zumi. She’s saying hello.”

Kazumi's face lit up with wonder as he laid his head on his mother's belly, his little ears pressed against the gentle movements inside. His eyes widened in fascination as he felt the gentle, rhythmic kicks. “I can feel it! Kiki is saying hi!”

Kazuha watched the scene unfold with a soft smile, his heart full at seeing the pure excitement on Kazumi's face and the deep love in his wife's eyes. The night air was filled with peaceful harmony, his family united in this simple yet profound moment of connection and anticipation.

The sun continued to rise, bathing them in a warm, golden light that seemed to celebrate the new life they were eagerly awaiting. As Kazumi continued to listen to his sister's small movements, Kazuha gently brushed away his wife's hair, his pale fingers lingering on your cheek with a tender caress.

“I love you more than anything in this world. Thank you for making me the happiest and most complete man, my love.”

Kaveh

Kaveh stood in the middle of the room that would soon belong to his daughter, his eyes scanning every corner with a mix of determination and excitement. Samples of wallpaper, fabrics, and paint were scattered around him, along with sketches of various design ideas.

“I was thinking about using pastel colors,” he began, turning to you who was sitting in the only armchair in the empty room. “Soft tones of pink, yellow, and green. They are calming and will create a serene and peaceful environment for her. And look at this,” he took out a sample of fabric, holding it up for you to see and touch. It felt smooth against your fingers. “This is perfect for the curtains. It’s light and airy, and will let in just the right amount of sunlight.”

You watched him with a warm smile, allowing your husband to express his desires and thoughts openly, feeling your heart swell with love. “That sounds wonderful, azizam,” you add softly.

Kaveh continued, now walking a little and gesturing as he spoke. “I also want to incorporate some interactive elements. Maybe a mobile above her crib with small animals that move gently. Ah! And we could have a wall with different textures for her to explore as she grows. It’s important to stimulate her senses from an early age.”

As he spoke, you couldn't help but be amused by his reactions, also enjoying seeing this more relaxed yet excited side coming from him. Even though Kaveh considered your opinion as important as his ideas, you loved seeing the dedication the architect put into his designs—and when it came to something as intimate as creating his daughter's nursery, it was to be expected that his passion displayed twice as much.

As he spoke happily, you listened to him in tender silence, but there was a strange feeling bubbling up inside you that left you momentarily intrigued. You attributed it to tiredness, or even hunger, but you ignored it, not wanting to worry Kaveh for nothing, much less interrupting his monologue.

However, the vibration continued as constant, gentle but persistent movements below your navel, bringing you a slight feeling of alarm and surprise. When realization finally hit you, your breathing stopped and your hands immediately rested above your belly, feeling the movements more precisely.

“Kaveh,” you called him, your voice full of wonder.

He stopped mid-sentence and ran to your side seeing your static expression. “What? What’s happening? Are you feeling unwell?”

You shake your head, biting your lip in a futile attempt to contain your laughter. “I think she's moving. Our baby girl is moving!”

Kaveh's look went from worried to shocked in an instant, a wide smile opening soon after. He knelt down in front of you and gently placed his hands on your stomach. A light kick hit the area where his warm palm rested.

“Hello, little one,” he whispered. “Guess you’re as excited about your room as I am, huh?”

You laughed softly, running your fingers through his hair. “She can already feel how much love you’re putting into this.”

Kaveh looked at you, his expression full of love and devotion. “I want her to know how much she means to us, from this moment until the very second she enters this world. Every detail in this room will be a reminder of that.”

You looked him in the eyes and smiled warmly. With some difficulty, you lean over and press a kiss to his lips to which he happily returns. “She's lucky to have a dad like you, Kaveh. And I am so grateful to have you by my side.”

He stood up and helped you do the same, quickly wrapping his arms around you right after. His head leaned against yours and you found yourself cradled in a hug filled with affection.

“We will be the best parents we can be, azizam. I promise.”

Lyney

The soft glow of the night lanterns filled the room with a warm, golden light. The living room was filled with a pleasant mix of the smell of burning incense and the faint scent of fresh wool. Lyney was sitting at a small, ornate table, focused intently on a new magic trick involving his pyro vision. Flames danced gracefully around his hands as he wove them into intricate shapes, their flickering light casting playful shadows on the walls.

Opposite him, you made yourself comfortable on the couch, your pregnant belly prominent under your loose robe. You were diligently knitting a pair of socks, each stitch coming together with the precision of a well-trained hand. The rhythmic clicking of your needles provided a calming counterpoint to Lyney's fiery display.

Lyney's latest trick involved sending a small burst of flame through a series of arches suspended in the air. He was so absorbed in perfecting his performance that he barely noticed the absence of the knitting needles and the change in your expression.

Suddenly, you let out a loud sigh—a sigh filled with a mixture of surprise and disbelief. Your hand instinctively rested on your belly, the intricate strands of wool quickly forgotten.

Lyney's concentration broke and he turned towards you with a start, dropping all his tools and heading towards your way. “Everything is fine, sweetheart? Did you get hurt? I knew I shouldn’t train at home!” he blurted out the words in a frenzy, his voice tinged with worry.

You looked at him with your eyes shining with emotion. Your husband became more and more exasperated.

“No no. That's not it. Quite the opposite actually,” you say, your voice thick with emotion. “I can feel them moving!”

Lyney's eyes widened, a huge smile spreading across his face as he realized what you meant. His expression was excited, and he sit next to you. “For real? This is incredible, chérie!”

You nodded, your hand gently stroking your belly and Lyney's just above yours. “It’s such a strange and wonderful feeling. It's so subtle that it almost doesn't seem to be there. I never imagined it would be like this.”

As if they knew they now had the full attention of both parents, the babies lightly kicked the area above your navel, eliciting another excited smile from you and a look of admiration from your husband for being able to be part of such a beautiful and intimate moment for the first time. He would never admit it, but his purple irises sparkled with happy tears for a few seconds.

With a tender smile, you shared this serene feeling in silence. The room seemed to glow a little brighter as you sat together, your bond deepened by this new shared experience. Lyney leaned over, resting his head on yours, hands still resting on your belly feeling the slight vibrations there.

“How about we take a break from magic and knitting? Let’s just enjoy this moment together.”

You giggled softly, your heart warmed by his loving gesture. “That sounds perfect.”

Neuvillette

In the calmness of Neuvillette's office, the dusk in the sky cast a warm light over all of Fontaine. Its golden and orange rays crossed through the windows of the room, creating a serene atmosphere.

Neuvillette sat behind his desk, his usual composed expression softening into one of gentle contentment as he leaned back in his chair. Opposite him, you sat comfortably in the armchair, one delicate hand resting on your growing belly and a cup of tea in the other.

The afternoon was calm, with only the faint hum of the city beyond the window in the background. Neuvillette looked at you with a warm smile touching his lips as he observed your relaxed posture. You were talking about your day, your voice carrying a gentle melody. Neuvillette listened intently, his eyes never straying too far from your face, enjoying the simple joy of your shared moments.

As you spoke, a subtle change occurred in your expression that didn’t go unnoticed by his sharp eyes. Your eyes widened slightly, and you placed a hand on your stomach, your fingers gently tracing its curve. Neuvillette immediately noticed the action and looked at you with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “Is everything alright, mon amour?” he asked, his voice carrying a slight hint of alarm.

Your eyes glowed with a mixture of surprise and joy. “I think… I think Éveline just moved,” you respond, your voice shaking with emotion.

Neuvillette's eyes widened as well, and he quickly moved to your side, his hesitant but gentle hand covering yours on your belly. “May I?” he asked softly, his usual formality melting in the heat of the moment.

You nodded, your smile growing as you guided his hand to the right place. For a few seconds, you both just sat, your breaths mingling in the silent space. Then, Neuvillette felt it—a gentle vibration beneath his palm, a small movement that was both fleeting and profound. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world outside seemed to disappear.

“She’s already so active.”

A giggle escaped your lips. “Apparently yes. She’s letting us know she’ll be here as soon as we expect.”

Neuvillette took a deep breath, trying to savor the moment as his hand intertwined with yours. “I suppose this is one of those rare moments when words fail to capture the full depth of our feelings.”

“I couldn’t agree more, darling.”

Wriothesley

Wriothesley stood at the bedroom window, admiring the marine life outside, which was enjoying the sunlight reflected in the crystal-clear waters of the Fontaine's sea. He was already dressed in his usual attire, mentally preparing himself for another day of responsibilities at the Fortress or Meropide. Despite the weight of his duties, a small smile played on his lips as he listened to the sound of water running from the shower in the adjacent bathroom.

“Are you done, love?” he shouted, looking at the clock on the wall. “We have a council meeting in half an hour.”

Your voice floated back, warm and cheerful. “Give me two minutes, Wrio. I'm almost finishing.”

He shook his head, amused by your nonchalance. Even pregnant with your first child, you continued to be a pillar of strength and efficiency, working alongside him to keep the prison running smoothly. The thought of his unborn child brought a gentle warmth to his heart, a feeling he was still getting used to.

He began to organize some papers on his desk, mentally preparing himself for the upcoming meeting, when an abrupt, piercing scream crossed the air. Wriothesley's heart leaped into his throat, and he ran toward the door.

“Sweetheart, what happened? Did you get hurt?” his voice was full of panic as he walked in, expecting the worst.

Standing there in the shower, allowing the water to cascade over your naked body, your hands cradled your belly. Though your eyes were wide, there was no fear in them—just astonished joy.

“Everything is fine. I’m fine,” you reassured him, your voice shaking with emotion. “He kicked. The baby kicked for the first time.”

Relief washed over him, quickly replaced by a wave of wonder and joy. He helped you out of the shower and then pulled you into his embrace, not caring that he was getting wet due to your body that just came out of the shower. Gently, he placed his hand on your belly and waited a few seconds before he too could feel the slight movement under the curving skin.

“There he is,” he whispered, his expression melting in pure devotion. “Our son.”

You nodded, happy tears blurring your eyes. “Sigewinne said it was normal for some babies not to move in their mothers’ wombs, but I think he’s finally trying to say that he’s as eager to meet us as we are to meet him.”

Wriothesley leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips. “I can’t wait to meet him too,” he said softly. “This is the best way to start a day.”

Your husband held you for a while longer, just reveling in your presence and the magical feeling of your unborn baby being present under the palm of his hand before he reluctantly pulled away.

“Although I'd like nothing else than stay here forever, we must dry and dress you. We have a meeting to attend and I want our little one to see how his mom looks like when she's doing what she does best.”

You waved in contagious joy. “Of course, Duke. As you wish.”

After a few more exchanges of caresses, you prepared for the day, your hearts excited for the new life growing. Fortitude may take a lot out of you, but moments like these remind you of the joy and love that made each challenge worth it.

BONUS

Heizou

Moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, casting a soft, silvery glow over it. Heizou was lying comfortably behind his pregnant wife, his hand resting gently on your rounded belly. The room was quiet except for your steady breathing and the occasional rustling of the sheets.

Suddenly, the detective felt a slight movement under his hand. It was no wonder he was such a light sleeper given his job and all. And then, because he thought it was you constantly moving in your sleep, he chuckled softly, bringing you closer to his embrace. “Can't stay still, huh?”, he murmured playfully.

Feeling the same movement, you opened your eyes slightly and lightly pinched his thigh. “Stop poking my belly,” you mumble, still sleepy, “You know it tickles.”

Heizou smiled in the dim light. “I’m not poking you,” he replied, gently patting your belly. “Maybe you’re just dreaming.”

You sighed, momentarily awake, and turned to face him, narrowing your eyes in mock severity. “Oh, of course. Blame my dreams when you're always the one causing trouble.”

Heizou raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Causing problems? I would never do that.”

You stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter, taking care that the loud sound of your voices didn't disturb anyone else's sleep.

When you were coming back to him with another bicker comment, another subtle movement appeared and interrupted your joking time. You caught your breath in surprise and placed your hand over your husband's, which was already resting on your belly.

“Did you feel that?”

Heizou's playful smile disappeared and was replaced by an expression of delight. “I did,” he replied, his voice now a mere whisper. “You think...?”

“It’s the baby,” you nodded, your eyes shining with joy. “Our little Ren is moving.”

Heizou's face lit up with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. “Well, it looks like our baby takes after me,” he said, his teasing tone returning. “It’s already causing a bit of confusion.”

You rolled your eyes but giggled, “Great, just what I needed—two troublemakers.”

Heizou leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You love it,” he whispered, his eyes shining.

You rested a hand on his cheek, suddenly feeling a rush of warmth and love. "I do. I love you both."

You stayed like that for a moment, enjoying the shared joy of feeling the baby's first movements. “You know,” Heizou said thoughtfully, “if this is how our little one is right now, we might be in for some sleepless nights.”

You laughed a little louder this time.

“Well, I was already prepared for that. Besides, I have you by my side. So I think we will do very well.”

Heizou kissed you gently. “We will be the best team, my dear,” he promised.

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fangdokja · 7 days ago

Text

He’ll pay any price for your love—what’s your worth?

❤︎ Synopsis. In a love that teeters between devotion and obsession, escape is futile—his jealousy isn’t just possessive, it’s a consuming force that leaves no room for freedom. With each calculated act, he dismantles your world, ensuring you’ll always belong to him, body and soul.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Pantalone x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Heizou x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Venti x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Xiao x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Heart's Chains - Part 4

♡ Word Count. 4,301

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ Pantalone – The Merchant’s Bargain.

“They think they can provide for you better than I can? How quaint. Shall I show them the cost of their insolence?”

The rhythmic echo of his boots against the cold marble floor carried a cadence of inevitability, a sound that sliced through the gilded silence of your confinement. You had dared to defy him once—a futile, trembling act of rebellion—but the memory of your failure still clung to you like a shroud. That night, his voice, smooth and deliberate, had wrapped around your resolve like silk hiding steel.

“Freedom?” he had mused, tilting his head as though you’d spoken in a language he had long since conquered and discarded. The gloved fingers under your chin forced your eyes to meet his, those calculating pools of dark ink that shimmered with amusement and an undercurrent of unspoken threat. “Ah, my dear. You misunderstand. Freedom is not yours to hold. It never was.”

The realization had come too late, slipping into your chest like a dagger hidden behind a bouquet of roses. And then there was his touch—clinical, practiced, a scholar examining his magnum opus. His lips brushed against your skin, leaving trails of cold fire in their wake, while his hands—gloved but never less intimate—claimed every part of you that you had once believed untouchable. It wasn’t affection. It was triumph, meticulous and unyielding, as if sealing a deal that had never required your consent.

“You are mine,” he had whispered, his breath hot against the shell of your ear. His words weren’t a confession but a decree, immutable and eternal. “Every thought. Every tear. Every heartbeat. They belong to me.”

Even now, the memory of his voice—velvet layered over iron—made your stomach twist in a combination of dread and something you refused to name. He was not cruel in the way of brutes who lashed out in fits of rage. No, his cruelty was far more refined, a blade sharpened to perfection, slipping between your ribs without a trace of blood. When he destroyed those who dared to covet you, it was not with fists but with contracts and whispered promises that unraveled their lives thread by thread.

“They thought they could compete with me?” he had remarked once, his smile as sharp as shattered glass. “Quaint. Shall we see how far they fall without their illusions?”

And fall they did. Men who had once walked with pride were reduced to husks of themselves, their empires razed to ash by the sheer weight of his machinations. You had watched, helpless and horrified, as he dismantled them with the same precision he used to trace the curve of your jaw, the line of your collarbone. His methods were merciless, but his gaze, whenever it turned to you, was something worse. It was possessive, yes, but layered with an almost tender mockery—a reminder that you were both the prize and the trophy.

At night, he would come to you, his presence filling the room long before his touch reached your skin. The scent of leather and cold metal clung to him, an oppressive cloud that left no space for you to breathe. He would undress you slowly, not with passion but with a reverence that felt more like dissection. His fingers, deft and unrelenting, mapped every inch of you as though committing you to memory. And when he finally pressed his lips to yours, it was not a kiss but a seal, binding you to him in ways no contract could ever replicate.

“You tremble so beautifully,” he had once murmured, his voice laced with something dark and predatory. “Do you realize what that does to me? Knowing that every shiver, every sigh, is mine to command?”

You wanted to scream, to push him away, to claw your way out of the golden cage he had built around you. But you knew better. His control was absolute, his influence extending beyond these walls to every corner of your life. Every ally you might have turned to, every path you might have taken, had been methodically closed off. He had seen to it that there was no escape, no hope, no future that did not orbit around him.

The nights were the worst. His body was a furnace against yours, his arms an unyielding cage that held you captive even in sleep. His whispers—promises of pleasure, threats of what would happen should you ever try to leave—invaded your dreams, turning them into nightmares you could not wake from. And yet, there were moments when his touch softened, when his lips brushed against your forehead in something almost resembling affection. Those moments terrified you most of all, for they reminded you of the power he held—not just over your body but over your mind, your soul.

When you cried, he would wipe away your tears with a gentleness that felt like mockery, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he smiled down at you.

“Hush now,” he would croon, his voice a paradox of warmth and cruelty. “There’s no need for tears. You should feel honored. Do you have any idea how many would give anything to be in your position? To be cherished by me?”

Cherished. The word tasted bitter in your mouth, a poisoned fruit wrapped in silk. But what choice did you have? He had stripped away every semblance of agency, every illusion of autonomy. You were his, bound by chains you could not see but felt in every breath you took.

Even now, as he stands across the room, his gaze heavy with unspoken promises, you feel the weight of his control. He doesn’t need to speak for you to know what he’s thinking. The slight tilt of his head, the way his fingers tap against the armrest of his chair—it all speaks of a man who knows he has won. Who knows that no matter how much you might dream of escape, you will always belong to him.

And when he finally approaches, his movements slow and deliberate, you can’t help but shiver. His hand cups your cheek, his touch as cold as the Snezhnayan winds that howl outside. He tilts your head up, forcing you to meet his gaze, and the intensity in his eyes leaves you breathless.

“You’ll never leave me,” he says, his voice soft but laced with an unshakable certainty. “Not because you can’t, but because you won’t. Deep down, you know the truth. I’m the only one who can give you what you need. What you crave.”

His lips capture yours in a kiss that feels like a signature on a contract, binding you to him in ways you can’t fully comprehend. And as much as you want to resist, to pull away, you find yourself succumbing, the lines between despair and desire blurring until you can no longer distinguish one from the other.

Because in the end, he’s right. There is no escape—not from him, not from the darkness he has woven around you. You are his, now and forever. And he will make sure you never forget it.

────────────

♡ Heizou – The Deceptive Detective.

“You think you can hide from me? Oh, darling, you underestimate how much I enjoy a good chase.”

It starts with his voice—not a shout, but a murmur, low and velvety, winding its way into the recesses of your mind before you even realize you’ve stopped breathing. His tone is soft, almost tender, like the caress of satin against bare skin. But beneath it, oh, there’s an edge—a razor-thin blade poised to cut. Shikanoin Heizou doesn’t need volume to dominate a room. His presence alone does the work, wrapping around you until your own thoughts feel like they’re not entirely yours anymore.

“You’ve been busy,” he says, his voice carrying the faintest trace of amusement. Each syllable is deliberate, each pause measured to pull you in deeper. His words aren’t a question but a statement—an observation so sharp it feels like he’s dissecting your very essence. You glance at him, but he’s already looking at you, his eyes—those unnervingly keen eyes—piercing through you like scalpels.

His lips curve upward, a faint smile that dances just shy of genuine. It’s not joy. It’s calculation, a mask so carefully constructed that it only heightens the unnerving tension coiling in your stomach. The distance between you is too small, and yet he steps closer, each footfall soft but purposeful, like a predator closing in on cornered prey.

“Tell me,” he continues, leaning against the edge of the table with an ease that seems casual but is anything but. His fingers trail idly over its surface, tracing invisible patterns. “What’s their secret? What’s so fascinating about them that you’d risk... neglecting me?” The words drip from his lips like honey, sweet but cloying, their weight suffocating.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat tightens as though he’s already wrapped those deft fingers around it. He tilts his head, his smile widening just a fraction. It’s not kind. It’s a noose tightening, a slow and deliberate constriction designed to choke the air from your lungs.

“Ah,” he sighs, as though the silence itself has confessed everything. “I see how it is. You’re testing me.” His voice drops, and there’s an undercurrent now, something darker, something that makes your pulse thunder in your ears. He straightens, his frame deceptively relaxed as he paces a slow circle around you. You’re keenly aware of how close he is, how the faint scent of sandalwood and something metallic clings to him.

Heizou’s methods are meticulous, his attention to detail almost inhuman. He doesn’t lash out—not physically. His cruelty lies in his precision, in the way he dismantles you piece by piece without ever raising his voice. “You know,” he muses, his tone light but laced with something sinister, “I caught them lying today. A terrible liar, really. But then again, I suppose they didn’t realize who they were dealing with.”

His footsteps stop, and you feel him behind you before you see him. A hand brushes against your wrist, and the touch is warm, almost gentle—but it lingers. His fingers tighten, just slightly, just enough to make your skin prickle.

“They were so nervous,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “The way their hands trembled when I said your name… quite telling, wouldn’t you agree?” There’s a pause, a stretch of silence so oppressive it feels like the air itself is suffused with malice.

Then, he chuckles—a soft, mirthless sound. “You don’t think they’re smarter than me, do you?” His grip tightens abruptly, the sudden force jolting you. “Because if they are, darling, then why were they begging by the end?”

The words linger, heavy and cold, and your stomach churns. He’s toying with you, savoring the way your breath hitches, the way your pulse flutters beneath his touch.

“You underestimate me,” he says softly, his tone almost mournful. “And that’s what hurts the most. After everything I’ve done for you, after all the times I’ve protected you…” He trails off, his hand sliding up to cradle your face. His thumb brushes against your cheek, a gesture that might’ve seemed tender if not for the vice grip of his other hand.

When he leans in, his lips ghosting over yours, the kiss isn’t an expression of love. It’s a claim, a binding force that leaves no room for doubt. Heizou’s affection isn’t freely given; it’s demanded, extracted, enforced. His lips are soft, his movements precise, but there’s no gentleness. Only control. Only possession.

He pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes you want to shrink away. “Do you know what I love most about you?” he whispers, his voice so low it feels like it’s crawling beneath your skin.

He doesn’t wait for a response. “It’s how much you need me. Even when you think you don’t. Even when you try to run.” His smile returns, but it’s twisted now, a reflection of the madness simmering just beneath the surface.

“But don’t worry,” he murmurs, his thumb pressing into your jaw just enough to make your breath hitch. “I enjoy the chase. And you, my darling, are such a fascinating puzzle.”

His hands drop away, but the weight of him doesn’t. It lingers, heavy and inescapable, like the echo of a nightmare you can’t quite wake from. He steps back, but his eyes never leave yours, and you know, with a sinking certainty, that he doesn’t need chains to keep you. His words, his presence, his gaze—they’re all the binds he needs.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says, his tone almost gentle now, as if he’s offering comfort. “I already know everything. I just like hearing it from your lips.”

The room feels colder as he turns away, the smile still playing on his lips. But you know it’s not over. Not even close. Because Shikanoin Heizou doesn’t just want you to stay. He wants you to realize—to understand, to accept—that you were never free to leave.

────────────

♡ Venti – The Bard’s Obsession.

“The winds have whispered your name to me, and now I can’t help but sing of you. Forever.”

Venti’s jealousy is a quiet, insidious thing—gentle as a breeze at first, slipping unnoticed into the crevices of your life, only to grow into a tempest that consumes every corner of your existence. It begins with the way his songs shift. Once lighthearted and carefree, they become laced with longing, their melodies carrying a haunting undercurrent of possessiveness.

You hear it in the way his voice lilts when he sings of freedom, the irony cutting sharp as glass. Freedom is his domain, the cornerstone of his identity, yet the thought of you seeking it elsewhere gnaws at his very soul. He can’t abide the idea of you straying too far, can’t stomach the sight of another’s eyes lingering on you for too long.

“You’re the only hymn worth singing,” he tells you one evening, his words coated in honey but laced with something darker, something you can’t quite place. His aqua eyes gleam in the fading light, the soft glow belying the storm brewing beneath.

It’s not obvious at first. His jealousy manifests in small, seemingly innocuous gestures—a hand resting a moment too long on your shoulder, a sharp glance at anyone who dares approach you during his performances. But the signs are there, subtle as the wind. You feel it in the way the air grows stifling when he’s near, as though the atmosphere itself bends to his will. The winds whisper your name, carrying his voice to you even when he’s nowhere to be seen.

He’s always watching. Always waiting.

When another admirer dares to offer you a flower—a simple token of affection—Venti’s response is deceptively cheerful. He plucks the bloom from your hands with a laugh, spinning it between his fingers before casting it into the wind. “A lovely gesture,” he muses, his tone light. “But nothing compared to what I could offer you.”

Later, you notice the absence of that admirer. No one mentions them again, and you dare not ask.

Venti’s touch is soft, almost reverent, as though you’re a delicate melody he fears will shatter beneath his hands. But there’s a hunger in his eyes, a desperation that betrays his playful facade. When he holds you, it’s as if he’s trying to merge your very existence with his, to bind your soul to him in ways words and songs cannot convey.

“You’re my muse,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice trembling with an emotion that borders on madness. “Without you, my music would wither. Without you, I’d be nothing.”

It’s in his desperation that his true nature unfurls, dark and unyielding. The winds themselves seem to conspire with him, pulling you closer, trapping you in an invisible cage. When you try to leave, the gusts become relentless, tearing at your clothes, your hair, until you’re forced to seek shelter—and he’s always there, waiting with open arms and a saccharine smile.

His jealousy grows with each perceived slight, each moment you spend with another. One evening, after you’ve spoken too long with someone else, he pulls you aside, his grip on your wrist firm but not painful. “Tell me,” he says, his voice low and dangerously soft, “do they make your heart sing as I do? Do their words weave melodies in your soul?”

The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating.

When he kisses you, it’s with a fervor that borders on desperation, his lips bruising against yours as though trying to erase the memory of anyone else. His hands roam your body with a possessiveness that leaves no room for doubt—you belong to him, and he will not share.

In the privacy of his embrace, his facade crumbles. The playful bard gives way to the archon he once was, his true power humming in the air around you. The winds howl outside, rattling the windows, as he whispers promises of eternity, of devotion so absolute it would shatter the heavens.

“You’re mine,” he breathes, his voice trembling with the weight of his obsession. “No one else can have you. Not the mortals who pine for you, not the gods who dare to covet you. Only me.”

And when he takes you, it’s with a mix of passion and desperation that leaves you breathless. His hands are everywhere, tracing the curve of your spine, the line of your jaw, as though trying to memorize every inch of you. His kisses are intoxicating, leaving you dizzy and gasping for air, and his touch is both a comfort and a curse, binding you to him in ways you can’t escape.

The winds outside carry his song, a haunting melody that speaks of love and loss, of a devotion so fierce it borders on destruction. And as he holds you close, his breath warm against your skin, you realize that you are both his muse and his prisoner, trapped in a melody that will never end.

────────────

♡ Xiao – The Guardian’s Desperation.

“I’ve slaughtered demons for centuries, but none of them haunt me as much as the thought of losing you.”

Xiao’s jealousy is a silent storm, his emotions buried beneath a stoic exterior. But when someone dares to approach you, his mask slips, revealing the feral possessiveness that lurks beneath. His love is a battlefield, and he will destroy anyone who stands in his way.

“They think they can protect you better than I can? Foolish. I’ll erase them from existence before they even draw their weapon.”

He watches you, always from the shadows—a sentinel whose presence is as consuming as the shadows that cling to him. You are unaware of his gaze, or perhaps you pretend to be, your every step laced with a naive confidence he simultaneously admires and despises. You wander too freely, too trustingly. It sets his teeth on edge, a low thrum of irritation pulsing in his chest like the steady hum of karmic debt.

You should not be so careless. Not when the world is teeming with dangers you cannot comprehend, threats he has battled for centuries. Not when he exists, tethered to you by something far more insidious than mere duty.

The first time he approached you, it was a fleeting moment at Wangshu Inn. Your voice was a melody too bright for this tainted earth, your laughter soft but cutting, a knife wrapped in silk. He didn’t speak then, didn’t dare disturb the fragile balance of your ignorance. But he memorized the cadence of your voice, the way it trembled slightly on certain words, how your lips curved when you smiled—a smile not meant for him but for the world you inhabited so freely.

It was maddening.

He hated it.

He wanted it.

You—a mortal bound by the confines of fleeting years—had ensnared him, shackling his mind in ways no karmic curse ever had. He should have left. Should have buried the feelings clawing at his chest in the deepest recesses of his being. Yet every step you took away from him, every day you spent beyond the sanctuary of his watchful eye, fed the gnawing hunger inside him. It was unbearable.

And so, he followed.

At first, it was subtle—a shadow flitting in the corner of your vision, a faint sensation of being watched. You dismissed it, a trick of the light, perhaps. But he was there, always there. The walls of Liyue Harbor—so bustling, so alive—could not deter him. Nor could the open plains, the forests, the winding roads you took on your whimsical adventures. His presence was constant, suffocating, unseen but palpable.

He told himself it was to protect you, to shield you from dangers you could not perceive. The truth was darker, more primal. It was not merely protection; it was possession. You were his. From the moment he decided to lay claim to you—silently, secretly—you belonged to him. It didn’t matter if you were unaware of it. It didn’t matter if the world continued to spin in blissful ignorance of his obsession.

But there were others.

Of course, there were others. Xiao had seen them—those who dared to tread too close, their gazes lingering too long, their voices too familiar. A pang of something dark and bitter twisted inside him each time it happened. Jealousy was a foreign sensation, one he had no name for but understood viscerally. He despised the way it coiled around his throat, hot and suffocating, and yet he could not escape it. It made his blood sing with a violent need—to eliminate, to erase, to make you see that no one else could be worthy of you.

It was a quiet night when he finally let you see him again. The sky was painted with stars, their light muted against the crescent moon. You were alone, as you often were, wandering near the cliffs overlooking Dihua Marsh. The wind played with your hair, carrying it like a banner of defiance. He appeared silently, a shadow stepping out of the void, his golden eyes piercing in the dim light.

You gasped softly, startled but not afraid. Not yet. His expression was unreadable, as it always was—a mask of cold indifference that barely hid the turmoil beneath. “You should not be here,” he said, his voice low and steady, yet tinged with something unspoken.

You tilted your head, curious. “Xiao?” You said his name like it was a question, like it was fragile, like it belonged to you. His fingers twitched at his side.

“It’s dangerous,” he continued, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming in its intensity. You did not step back, though your breath hitched imperceptibly. He noticed, of course. He noticed everything about you.

“I can take care of myself,” you replied, a faint smile gracing your lips. It was the wrong thing to say.

His jaw tightened, the golden irises of his eyes darkening like storm clouds. “You don’t understand,” he said, his voice sharp now, a blade against the fragile air between you. “You don’t see the things I see. You don’t know what’s out there.”

“Then show me,” you challenged, your voice steady but your pulse quickening. He could hear it, the rapid thrum of your heart, and it ignited something dangerous inside him.

For a moment, silence stretched between you, taut and suffocating. Then, faster than you could react, he was there—too close, his breath warm against your skin. His hand shot out, gripping your wrist, not hard enough to hurt but firm enough to convey an unyielding dominance.

“You don’t understand,” he repeated, softer this time, almost a whisper. His gaze bore into yours, unrelenting, unyielding. “I will not let anything happen to you.”

And you knew, then, with chilling certainty, that he was not speaking of mere protection. There was a possessiveness in his voice, an edge of something raw and unrefined. He was not asking for your consent, your understanding, your compliance. He was taking it.

The wind howled around you, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the inevitability of your fate. You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, just enough to make you stop, to make you understand.

“Do not test me,” he warned, his voice dropping to a growl that sent shivers down your spine. There was no malice in his tone, only an unwavering resolve that promised you would never escape him.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. His other hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The gesture was almost tender, a cruel juxtaposition to the iron grip on your wrist.

“You belong here,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving yours. “With me.”

────────────

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shararan · 2 years ago

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I’m pretty sure I am the only one sailing this ship, but since this idea has been over half a year in the making....... I offer my most self indulgent Diluc/Heizou

#genshin impact fanfic #shikanoin heizou #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x heizou #diluhei #i am coining this as their ship name #or ive been since august but still #my writing

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fairykazu · 11 months ago

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does he know? ft heizou

note: the pusheen pfp is a private account

taglist: @aethion @lily-lmao

masterlist

#astronetwrk #genshin impact x you #genshin fluff #genshin impact fanfics #gender neutral reader #genshin impact x reader #heizou x name #heizou x reader #heizou smau #smau #lovesick stupid! heizou

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stxxryvoid · 7 months ago

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˚₊‧꒰ა Silly Things That They Do ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ Genshin Impact

✧ Silly (and sometimes annoying) things that they do, but it's okay you love them anyway <3

✧ Featuring ✧ Childe, Heizou, Kazuha, Kaeya, Venti, Kaveh, and Itto x GN! Reader (Separate)

✧ Content Warnings ✧ Some swearing

✧ Childe

"Rise and shine sleepy head!" No further explanations needed.

He'll roll you up in your blankets for no apparent reason and then leave before you can escape the soft prison he put you in.

If you're going to jump on the bed he'll mf snatch the pillow and you fall on the bed itself.

When he's cooking he'll def shape the food into cute shapes.

He'd probably find something you're looking for and say he doesn't know where it is, but a while later will give it to you so you can praise him and give him a kiss.

Comes up from behind you and puts his hands over your eyes saying: "Guess who?"

Tells you to stay out of trouble when he's gone even though anything you do will never amount to the shit he does when he's working.

✧ Shikanoin Heizou

Kicks your feet under the table like he's a damn child.

Anytime he does something he expects a kiss as a reward.

He could literally open a jar you couldn't open and expect a big kiss and cuddles.

If you ask him to make you coffee he'll definitely make it!

You just won't get it unless you get up yourself because you only asked him to make it not bring it.

But if you ask him next time to bring the coffee he'll bring the whole ass coffee pot bc you didn't ask for it in a cup.

Will blame you for him waking up late on a work day when he's the one staying up late to work on cases.

Gets genuinely offended when you tell him no fried food bc it's not good for him.

He does a ">:(" and gives you one-worded responses for an hour.

He's not mad he's just the biggest tease to exist on Teyvat.

Start getting actually upset and he actually feels so bad and does anything to make it up to you.

✧ Kaedehara Kazuha

Comes up behind you without making a sound says "Hi." and scares the living daylights out of you.

If you catch him doing smth he'll use such poetic words you can't even understand to get out of the situation.

Starts spitting poetry out of nowhere.

It could be dead silent between the two of you and he gives you a romantic poem.

If he's cooking he will put food you do not like in there but hide it so well it tastes good to you.

While you're eating he'll stare at you like 🙂

Then you realized you fell victim to eating smth like brussel sprouts again.

If you're working he'll deadass show up in your office or smth.

Like how??

No notification from your coworkers and you js look up he's there.

Kazuha 10/10 horror movie killer material, silent footsteps, appears out of nowhere, unsuspecting, and has a sharp weapon

He knows so many cats like wtf

A cat comes up to him he pets it and says "Hi, cat name." AND DOES IT W SO MANY CATS??

✧ Kaeya

Okay I know I called Heizou the biggest tease but I changed my mind.

If Heizou is the king of teasing Kaeya is the all knowing, all powerful, all mighty god of teasing.

Flirts with you at the most random times.

Could be fighting some monsters he decides its the best time to try a new pick up line.

And it's always the best one's too, but he decides to save the horrendous ones for completely normal times.

He has no life.

With no cavalry to captain he can't be the cavalry captain so with nothing to do most of the time he's glued to your hip.

He'll play with your hair in front of someone no matter how many times you smack his hand away.

Claims he needs some random article of clothing on him fixed just so he can have your attention.

Y'know that thing where you bump your hip on someone to make them trip/fall over?

He does that.

If you stumble he'll act like he did nothing and turn the other way.

If you fall and it's hilarious he'll laugh before helping you up.

But if you fall and hurt yourself he'll actually feel bad and help you up and make sure you're okay. He's at your beck and call for the rest of the day.

He needs attention.

It's like taking care of a big cat.

✧ Venti

Also does the hip bump thing.

If you go to find him after he does some drinking he could be in the most random ass position ever.

Laying back down legs up against a building.

Passed out on some hay in a crate.

Sleeping under a bench.

You can't even be surprised anymore.

His feet are actually icebergs.

When he takes off them stocking things he puts his feet on you and your body temperature decreases by 20 degrees.

Styles his hair and yours in the most random ways.

If you wear makeup he took it once and ended up looking like a barbie doll got into a street fight and lost.

Sings you songs about the most random shit.

He turned milk and cookies into a song.

Meowing back at cats is normal.

But he barks back at dogs and really puts the enthusiasm in it..

✧ Kaveh

Plays with his food.

Moves it around on his plate to form shapes before he actually eats it.

Sometimes is drinking while he draws things and was painting once and ended up drinking the paint water on accident.

He spat it out and started rubbing his tongue while you and Al haitham were like 🤨

Thought all he loses are his keys?

Nah everything he's touched has been lost at least once.

He's still looking for some things that vanished into thin air.

He sometimes talks in his sleep.

Mostly about you, cats, dogs, and food.

He's actually so knowledgeable on beauty products??

You could be buying something for skin care and he snatches it and says "No."

"Don't buy this..." and yaps on for a good minute.

Then he'll go and pick up smth else for you and buy it for you and you're js left there shocked.

✧ Arataki Itto

This man is the epitome of silly.

He also cant whisper for shit.

Do NOT shit talk someone to him all of Inazuma will know within 30 minutes.

He has so many spare combs.

A backup comb for his comb a back-backup comb for the backup comb a back-back-backup comb for the back-backup comb and so on...

Don't give him hot sauce. Just don't.

Do NOT mess up his hair. He'll be ":(" the entire day.

He knows about lots of good food.

Can he cook any of this good food?

Hell no.

If you cook him anything he'll be so happy and eats every last crumb, would probably eat the plate to get all the macromolecules of the food.

(If he even knew what a macromolecule is)

If you make him something it's treasured forever and the only fingerprints on it are yours and his.

Definitely owns a diary somewhere.

-Stxxry

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