Pairings : Alhaitham , Diluc , Kaeya , Zhongli , Childe , Thoma , Ayato , Kaveh , Wriothesley , Baizhu , Dainsleif , Tighnari , Ifa x Top Male Reader
Warnings : Soft smut(? Idk-) , Suggestive tension , Tit worship , Comfort kink , Slight Nipple play , Ass groping , NSFW-ish, Suggestive fluff/smut , Not proofread! (It's tradition 💔)
| Synopsis — Stress Relief with your man's tits and ass
Author's Note; I swear l am in desperate need to squeeze some manboobs and ass. While l was writing this, l can beautifully assure you that something in my pants was standing taller than Xiao. l hope you enjoy my silly goofballs:3
✧ The OG mommy. Built like a scholarly ox—broad pecs, tight shirt,and that bounce when he walks? Iconic. Forget Alhaitham,we got Mommy Milkhaitham😩
— You’re burnt out—like literally burnt out. The world’s too loud, your brain’s running on 3% battery, and if one more person asks you to do something, you’re going to spontaneously combust and die. One thing's for sure you have properly learnt—make sure all of your work is finished and not neglected for a whole week, since you happen to choose your happiness over your job. Your shoulders were slump,your hair was slightly tousled—most probably due to you digging your fingers in it because you couldn't find a proper answer to one equation, or because you didn't understand a particular area in one of your projects. You were practically restless while being stuck in micro sleeps an caffeinated drinks. All of this, caused you to happily invite an annoying headache, unimaginable back pain and sore joints. You sighed tiredly, at this point—you might just drop dead on the floor, you were in desperate needs for something to relax..
So,with all of the energy you had gained from your energy drinks—you stood up from your study table and wobbled yourself straight to the living room which was mostly occupied by Alhaitham, who was peacefully lounging on the couch—shirt visibly unbuttoned, abs peeking out, chest glistening under the amber lighting from above, slender legs on top of eachother while he was reading a book casually. Laying there solemnly as if the universe isn’t falling apart, well—correction; as if your body wasn't falling apart by work. You throw yourself onto him like a human paperweight, “ I’m gonna scream. I’m gonna cry. I’m gonna explode. ” you told,your voice too drained to mimick an emotion through your sentence—Alhaitham hums softly, book still in hand,his finger tapping the spine of the book with eased concentration. “ Then scream. Cry. But don’t explode on the carpet. I just vacuumed. ” His voice was calm,stoic and indifferent—you groan at his dry response,the last string of patience being ripped from your soul. You’ve had it. You supported yourself up as you stare at him,“ I need to squeeze something. No—I need to squeeze your tits. Give them to me. Right now. ”
For a second, he stills when he hears your words. Then, slowly lowers the book—eyes lifting to meet yours with that signature, unbothered smirk, “ So... the esteemed scholar’s body is now a therapeutic tool? ” he asks,tilting his head for exaggerated purpose,his smirk never leaving his lips. “ YES. Shut up and gimme it now. ” You demand with no hesitation. Alhaitham leans back onto the couch with a sigh of mock defeat. He acts all annoyed and detached—like you’re being dramatic again,but nevertheless his arms stretch outwards as he lets you take in the gorgeous view. His chest was open,exposed,massive, firm—and begging to be grabbed. “ If groping me helps your brain, fine. Just don’t slobber on me. ” He tells, “ Take what you need. ”
And oh dendro archon... you do.
Your hands sink into the plush firmness of his pecs like they were sculpted to be held, massaged, worshipped by your hands alone. Alhaitham's breath stutters as you knead with purpose, venting all your frustration into those academic stress balls you oh so very much needed. While being trapped in a trance from looking at your lover's enormous chest,you mutter “ You’re unreal, ” Alhaitham shoots you a quick glance, raising an eyebrow, “ Do you even own bras? You should. ” you tell—continuing to knead as if you're a cat who just discovered making biscuits on blankets. “ I don’t need to, ” He replies, voice low and slightly trembling but, it was never shown, “ After all,that’s what you’re here for, isn’t it? ” He teases you,unable to keep the corners of his lips from twitching up to form a smile. Alhaitham notices the subtle way your shoulders drop in relaxation and your breathing slows. You visibly relax when you cup those chest pillows like they’re custom-made. He’ll throw in a smug, “ I suppose I am quite... ergonomic. ”
And when you give a slightly hard experimental squeeze that makes him let out a soft hiss?
Yeah. You forget your name.
The second time you squeeze a little firmer, maybe drag your fingers down his abs while purring something like,“ Your body’s so warm. I could nap on these everyday... ” He shivers. Suddenly,his book isn’t that interesting to him anymore now. He’s holding his breath in,a tiny twitch in his thigh. Maybe a stifled groan,he pretends it didn’t happen. And when your fingers squeeze his nipples,a soft moan is bitten back by him but the way his heartbeat picks up tells you that he's enjoying it.
You’re supposed to be stressed but suddenly the tension is melting, replaced by something thicker, heavier, warmer—your head rested between his chest as if it belonged there, Alhaitham strokes your hair with his slender fingers—the book he was reading already discarded somewhere. “ Better? ” he murmurs, voice rumbling under your ear, “ Mmm, ” you mumble,all the stress you have been holding in has already been dispatched—but,you kept on kneading—you couldn't stop now,“ I think I need... a few more minutes of tit therapy. ” He chuckles at your somewhat vulgar words—it was deep and sinful. The more you continued it,the more Alhaitham started to crave it. Not just the touch—but the fact that you trust him enough to break down in his arms like this. That his body and presence is your comfort and safe space. That you go to him first when the world is too much. Then,he quietly whispers to your ear,
“ Take your time. I’ll invoice you later. ”
— The next few days,you noticed something a bit odd about him—Alhaitham has started to lounge shirtless more often than you could ever think. And when you ask him on why he's suddenly shirtless,“ It’s hot in here,” he claims.
You’re not fooled. You already know the reason behind it and you aren't going to complain.
Alhaitham wants—needs you to notice. To touch. To relieve your stress... and his own. He likes it..no he loves it. But he will die before admitting it out loud. Not to mention that he secretly looks forward to it.
And he’s not gonna stop you. Never. Your stress is valid, and so is your right to touch Alhaitham’s divine breasts. Let’s treat this as therapy;3 So in short explanation;
Alhaitham: “...Are you using me, [Name]?”
Alhaitham: “...Don’t stop.”
✧ Hear me out: “ layers hide the damage ” Canonically a hard worker at the winery? He’s definitely buff under that coat. Look at his broad back in animations 🛐 you KNOW this man's got some MASSIVE mommy milkers. And what better than some emotional support tiddies—specifically, Diluc’s strong, underused, secretly massive chest?? 😩
— You burst into the Dawn Winery—eyes wild, shirt mildly messed up and emotions running around like hydro slimes during mating season. You're far too burnt out, the world is a mess, your job/commissions/life is taking years off your soul like credit coupons, and you need major RELIEF. Diluc recoils at the sudden outburst of wind hitting his back, he turns around to face you from the bar counter. He’s standing there in his tight black button-up, arms folded—hair slightly messy from previous training, pecs stretching the fabric like they’re trying to escape and are suffocating from the lack of air.
The silence between the two of you remained,then Diluc slowly speaks,“...You look tense. ” You inhale deeply, as you respond to him with a forced smile,“ Tense? TENSE? I’m one more Hilichurl away from committing a war crime. ” Diluc tilts his head to the side—some concern being displayed onto his face. You walked straight to him with unhinged desperation that not even Dottore could understand, “ I need to squeeze your tits, right now. Gimme. ” Your voice was firm,and there was no space for any sort of explanation or negotiation.
Diluc.exe has stopped working.
The redhead blinks at your request—he doesn't know whether to cry or laugh—his pale cheeks were now painted by a hue of light pink. He tries his best to proceed as he asks you, to make sure he heard it correctly. He clears his throat and starts,his voice husky, “ Pardon...M-My what? ” You don't answer. Instead—your hands gripped onto each side of his hips and lifted him up with ease—the sudden lifting caught Diluc off guard,and he tried to squirm out of your grasp,“ Huh?!— [Name]! What are you— ” You placed him to sit on top of the counter, parting his legs so there's a space for you in-between his (thicc) thighs. Diluc blushes so much his face was practically the same colour of his hair.
Without even wasting a second of time—you proceed to bury your face in his chest and slip your hands underneath his shirt, immediately grabbing two hearty handfuls of pure, solid comfort—like emotional support marshmallows forged in a furnace. And oh great Barbatoes... Those things are firm. Warm and stress-relieving. You’re kneading like a cat on a sunlit couch. He stiffens. He’d pretend to be flustered at first and all—asking you,“ Is this really necessary? ” with that tight jaw, those downcast eyes—but deep inside? He's practically squealing in excitement.
Slowly, very slowly, his slender fingers thread through your hair, earning a happy hum from you. He asks softly, “ ...Is this actually helping? ” you hum again, replying to him, “ Yes. Don't talk. Just... let me squish.” As you knead your stress away—Diluc was stiff and silent the whole time, face redder than his Vision, but every time your hands happened to squeeze a bit firmer on his chest?
He practically sees celestia and melts into a pool of sizzling embarrassment.
His breath starts to hitch when you go on—his shoulders drop and,an arm wraps around your head automatically, cradling you against his chest. Whenever you press your face into him—inhaling his scent like you have been starved for far too long,and sighing like it’s your favorite pillow, he murmurs, “ You... really like doing this, don’t you? ” his lips curl up into a genuine smile while he looks down at you—face buried in his manboobs and hands groping at his custom pillows. You nuzzle against him once more, hearing his heartbeat,“ Mhm. Makes me feel calm. ” he hums at your response, tangling his fingers in your hair while he thinks of a response to you.
“...Then don’t stop. Keep going. ”
Eventually, he starts leaning into your touch—soft moans and gasps are successfully bitten away by him but some managed to escape him however. You can feel the small tremor course through his body when you grip a bit too hard on a particular sensitive area on his chest—not to mention,he gets dangerously quiet when your thumbs brush too close over his hardened nipples. His eyes hold a dark glint to them now,his breathing heavy and ragged. And that tension?
Oh archons...he’s into it now.
His face is burning,his voice drops to a seductive whisper, “ You can touch me whenever you want. ” And suddenly, your stress is replaced with another kind of tension,one that's starting to increase inside your pants. Diluc leans down, murmuring near your ear, “ But if you don’t stop now, I might not stay gentle. ” You chuckle, straightening yourself up as your shadow hovers over him,“ And what are you gonna do, sir? Smother me between them? ” You tease playfully,eyes narrowing in a manner where it literally screams,“ Now this is getting interesting. ” Diluc remains quiet,then he speaks—his response sent a very pleasant shiver down your spine.
“ ...That can be arranged. ”
— The next few days,you noticed something about Diluc—He's wearing tighter shirts around you. Specifically ones that enhance that narrow waist of his,and outline his abs and..chest. When you ask him why he's wearing such tight clothes,” I wanted to try a new type of style. ” he claims and pretends it's just the summer heat that's so specifically outlining his figure.
You didn't get fooled. Never.
You already knew why he was wearing those and that alone,gives you a sense of a mixture of arousal and pride. Whenever he's needy,he holds your hands in his and guides them to his chest with this husky whisper,“ Go on. I’m yours to use. ” and on days when you're tired—he plops onto your lap and asks innocently, “ Need to unwind? ” with his tits out like a feast spread before you..yeah it's official—Diluc is loving this more than you,and who are you to complain? You have created a side of him only he will ever show to you—A chest-offering, touch-starved Diluc who lets you grope him like you’re relieving stress but, he’s secretly getting off on it.
You’ve created a monster, and you're damn proud of it.
✧ Not exactly huge boobs, but he’s got that lean sexy muscle + canonically alluring chest window. More seductive than swole 😩
— You’re hunched over your desk—hair a bird's nest, papers scattered like your sanity and emotions. You’re too stressed out—life is punching you in the throat and taking years off your life span,your headache didn't do you any good either—you felt as if someone was continuously hammering you on the head and, that did not feel good,in the slightest way possible. And the stress? Palpable. You were zoning out,until you feel a hand on your shoulder and, hear that all too familiar voice,“ My, my...someone’s had a rough day. Shall I offer you my usual remedy? ” You barely lift your head—only responding to him with a groan. Kaeya smirks,“ Come on now,lift your face up handsome—I want to see it. ” Kaeya chuckles when you reluctantly lift your head up. Taking the opportunity,he steps in front of you, blocking out your view of all the scattered papers currently on your desk—which happened to calm some of your stress,worry— and..sunlight. Wait,sunlight? Because those breasts are casting a shadow. You look up to him,and Kaeya..is just smirking. “ You look like you could use a squeeze... ” He unclips the top of his white dress shirt—the little flap that hides absolutely nothing away for your eyes—and suddenly, his pecs are right there, soft but firm, warm, and inviting.
You freeze at the breathtaking moment displayed in front of you. Kaeya takes a hold of one of his pecs, squeezing them. Just enough to tease and tempt you into touching them.
You don’t ask. You just reach.
And Kaeya? He's way too smug about it,“ Oh~ eager today, aren’t we? ” He is a bit surprised, with you immediately burying your face between those pillowy slabs of emotional support, hands kneading them like soft dough. The tension in your body and muscles melts. His scent—fresh wine, cool mint, faint danger—intoxicates your senses. And Kaeya just chuckles, a low, sultry sound, “ Take all the time you need, darling. After all,I am here to help you unwind... ” one of his hands guide yours to just the right spot. Like a sensual massage therapist but emotionally damaging. You practically collapse underneath your normal composure—squeezing that spot hard,Kaeya let's out a strangled moan while his head falls back—back arching beautifully.
When he feels you nuzzle your face into him,he hums on purpose—smug bastard knows he’s your coping mechanism. But then, his hand drifts under your chin, lifting your gaze—your face was still buried in his chest as you look up at him, “...Of course,I am fine if those hands of yours want to wander a bit lower— Ngh!?~ ” You squeeze one of his nipples,firmly—almost like you were daring him to continue his sentence. His breath stutters, and a faint blush ghosts his cheeks while you play with his hardened nipple between your thumb and index finger,“ Later. When we get home, you're way too vocal..unless if you want the other knights to hear it. ” You tease,your voice holding a professional yet teasing undertone,“ I'll happily oblige to my beloved's request. ” Kaeya shivers when you continue to knead,“ Mmpf.. I—I'll wait then. ” the knight reluctantly says,a smirk still tugging at his lips—oh how badly you want to rip that smug looking expression off his face,oh well—guess you'll just have to be patient for that to occur. And if you happen to get a little too enthusiastic down below? Kaeya will definitely comment on it,
“ Mmm… seems like I’m not the only thing standing tall right now. ”
— Kaeya wouldn't just like it—he’d live for it. He would practically thrive on it. He would arch his smug little back and moan into your ear just to hear how fast your heart skips. Kaeya is a tease, yes—but he’s also starved for affection under all that flirt. So when you—the person he actually trusts, starts squeezing his chest with needy hands and that stress-glazed look in your eyes? Oh celestia.. he will cherish all of it.
“ You want comfort? Use me. ”
Kaeya just loves the desperation. Loves how your hands tremble. Loves how you grab his breasts like they’re your lifeline. And the second he feels that slow, grinding squeeze? He lets out the softest, most devastating little chuckle,“ Tsk... I should’ve let you do this sooner. You’re adorable when you’re breaking. ” Underneath the fabric of his pants,his own arousal starts to twitch to life. Yes, Kaeya gets off on it. The act of being used—but still totally in control.
He’ll press your head against his chest, whisper filth right into your ear, and maybe even spread his thighs out while saying, “ Squeeze harder, sweetheart. Let’s see which of us gives out first. ” (Spoiler, he's the one who loses)
You have to admit,Kaeya’s tits are so sensitive. And his reactions? Undeniably sinful.
He lets you use them to de-stress yourself, but in return?
You owe him your voice, your breath, and the way you moan his name while utterly ruining him underneath you.
You squeeze him for comfort?
He squeezes back… for ruin.
✧ THE original cake boss. Elegant, refined, and that geo archon booty? Could break a chair. You just KNOW he sits heavy 🤭
— You’re absolutely drowning in stress, the world’s weight crushing down on your normally neutral vibe. You slump against the nearest comfy chair, heart pounding like a storm drum, palms clammy, thoughts racing at 100 mph and,a headache so bad you feel like ripping your brain out yourself. You felt as if you wanted to just disintegrate into the chair you're seated on. Your gaze subconsciously drifts—and then, your eyes lock onto Zhongli’s perfectly sculpted ass. The kind of solid that could double as a granite stress ball. Staring back at you like the ultimate stress relief you never knew you needed. Your hand almost moves on its own—but you managed to stop yourself from getting over carried.
Zhongli was peacefully sweeping away some dust that had collected on the floor—he hummed an ancient Liyue melody to himself,he pauses when he hears something from a nearby bookshelf drop. He walks over to the fallen item, bending down right in front of you..and that.. caused you to snap,the last sense of sanity vanishing in. Your body stood up with all of the energy you collected—you walked to where he was, footsteps soft and slow against the carpet but, Zhongli still managed to sense you approaching him from behind.
He straightened himself,head turning back,amber eyes glancing towards you—a warm smile tugging at his perfectly made lips,“ Do you need something darling? ” He asks, keeping the object onto the shelf it was on earlier. You took in a deep breath—then, pressed your body against his back,arms possessively wrapping around his waist to pull him closer. His eyes widened and he freezes like ice. One of your hands reached down,trembling at first—then confidently sliding over that smooth fabric,your breath hitched when you felt your hand being engulfed into a heat that made you go insane—your fingers pressed in, feeling the firm, unyielding yet somehow supple muscle beneath.
Zhongli becomes quiet when he feels your hand—you delicately moved his soft brown hair away from his neck like a sacred heirloom, sinking into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent like never before. He feels surprised at first, the boldness catching him off guard but pleasantly so,the coolness from your fingers caused a shiver down his spine. A faint dust of pink hovered over his cheeks.
You squeeze. Just once. Then again. Each squeeze melts some tension off your shoulders, like the universe itself is responding to your desperate need for relief. Zhongli raises an eyebrow, calm and collected, but there’s a spark—like he’s amused and curious at your antics, noticing your hands need this more than you know.
“ Is this what you require to relax? ” He finally speaks,his voice was velvet, low and soothing, but with a hint of teasing. You can barely even generate a thought,let alone breathe because the pressure and proximity are sending a whole new level of heat down south—you couldn't answer him with words,only being able to let out a frustrated groan. A chuckle escapes Zhongli—throaty and rich. You literally felt the way your pants tightened at the sound.
You dig your fingers deeper into his soft flesh, feeling the strength and warmth, imagining all your stress getting trapped and dissolved right there in that perfect, bakery-certified ass. Zhongli chuckles again,but this time softer, a rare sound, and you swear the room just got a whole lot cozier(steamier). Zhongli's now amused—that little twinkle in his eyes tells you he likes that you’re comfortable around him just enough to be playful. Stress? What stress? Only the soft thump of your heart and the irresistible urge to keep squeezing... and maybe never stop. You felt your mind fog up with arousal—Zhongli feels a small pool of warmth swirl in his lower abdomen, he's truly flattered—because not everyone gets to enjoy that “secret Geo treasure,” and he knows it. So, Zhongli kept silent, leaning against you so you could squeeze more as he's starting to get.. a bit aroused as well,but in a subtle, refined way—he’ll keep his cool, but you bet that quiet strength is buzzing. His grip momentarily tightens on the broom,but eases immediately after.
You're 100% sure that you're pants are talking louder than your brain right now, because damn you wanted to devour him right here and right now. You didn't bother to stop it from talking though.
— Zhongli is all about composure, elegance, and keeping that Geo archon dignity intact... BUT underneath that calm exterior? He really does appreciate being seen, touched, and wanted in ways that remind him he’s still very much alive and human, and not some god. When you sneak a gentle yet firm squeeze from his scrumptious ass? Oh how he loves it can never be described in words. He’d definitely give you a teasing remark—something like, “ You have excellent taste in stress relief my dear. ” with a barely concealed smirk. Bottom line? He freaking loves it, in that slow-burning, “I’m the rock you lean on but also want to melt on” kinda way.
The following days,you start to notice something about Zhongli that always drags your eyes to him—it's the way he subtly grinds against you, when you point it out, he'll just innocently brush it off and go on with his day—leaving you and your little buddy downstairs confused and frustrated of no relief. Not to mention,when he happens to have dropped something and bends down—just low enough for you to catch a full on display at his ass and the way his back arches? Yeah,you know damn well he's doing it on purpose and you aren't going to stop him. If he continues doing this—well,two can always play that game. You'll occasionally grab his ass when he's occupied by speaking with someone,the thrill of seeing him briefly pause at your touch is something not even celestia would mess around with.
Hu tao, Xiao or even the traveller. You don't care—because the way his entire body tenses up and,the weak glare he sends your way,while cursing you in his mind is just beautiful. Zhongli will try his best to sound composed and stay neutral,but that small shiver that courses through him when you squeeze again,and the faint pinkness on his cheeks(both) is all you need to feel like your pants were about to burst.
✧ People sleep on it, but he’s got a sneaky dumper. Agile, built, and those THIGHS? they definitely lead somewhere 🛐
— You’re having the WORST day ever. Deadlines, bosses, life piling on and workloads doubling up each second you blink. Your brain’s fried and your body screams for mercy and rest. You slump down on your couch, rubbing your temples, desperate for relief. With Childe just casually laying on his stomach next to you—ass facing straight to you—while reading a Fatui report,you assumed. Your eyes dart over to him—from his ginger hair that you always tangle your fingers through,down to that narrow waist you can't help but grab every chance you get, and stopping just at that beautifully made ass. And that's when you remember your favorite stress balls—aka Childe’s legendary ass. You smirk—you grab him casually—hands sliding over that firm, athletic cushion. Childe slightly recoils at your touch,you couldn't even care right now—all that's on your mind is kneading those soft, plumb cheeks. You press in, and it’s like squeezing a stress ball made of muscle, silk, and maybe a little danger for flavour. His glutes are so dense and perfect,that you feel your worries melt away, tension escaping with each squeeze. How can a Fatui harbinger have this much of an ass? Forget it, right now—you're just blessed to touch them.
The heat radiates through your palms, subtle but electric. Childe's head whips around to look at you, he smirks, teasing you, “ Hey, careful, that’s my prized possession! ” He'll pretend to be a little annoyed when you grope again, and you’re too distracted by that tone to answer properly,you only hum—and that was it. You keep squeezing, the sensation so tactile and real you almost forget your troubles, almost. And if you happend to get a little too excited—you feel something in your pants is starting to wake up, standing taller than a full on 20 story building. Childe notices the way how you relax—disregarding the fact he was supposed to be annoyed,a cheeky grin playing at his lips. He reaches out, grabbing your hand in his hold—you pause,eyes opening and glancing at him. Before you could even ask why he disturbed your session of relaxing—he pulls you down and you yelp in surprise.
You support yourself by placing your palms on each side of your cute ginger's neck,you raise an eyebrow. Childe doesn't say anything,he just wraps his arms around your neck and traps you to him by putting his legs on your back,“ Childe..what are you doing? ” You finally ask,he only giggles. Taking a hold of your hand and guiding it back to its rightful place,“ Just shifting my position to something comfy, nothing else. ” He grins,you squeeze. He allows you to continue kneading his behind—all while whispering sweet nothings in your ears that just rile you up in the best way possible. The report being placed on the coffee table to be read later.
But,no one's safe from his torturous teasing,“ Want me to help you relax… a little more? ” with that signature mischievous grin or, “ Keep squeezing, baby. I don’t mind carrying your weight.” while he innocently tightens his legs around you, pulling you closer to him. You can only hum at his words, nuzzling into the crook of his neck as you continued to knead away your pent up stress. You have to admit—squeezing Childe’s ass like stress balls is basically the ultimate stress relief at it's finest,and definitely a mood booster. Your pants might have opinions on it too.
While you continue, Childe would probably nudge you with a sly grin and say something like, “ Keep squeezing, and I might just have to repay the favor. ” His voice would drop low, all smooth and dangerous. Not to mention,Childe literally LOVES it. Like, he’s the type who’s all about physical touch and cheeky intimacy—especially from someone he trusts and cares about. When you grab at his ass like this—he’d smirk and tease you first, maybe pretend to be a bit annoyed, but inside? He’s thrilled. It’s playful, a little possessive, and honestly, it makes him feel closer to you. More than you, he’s absolutely into it—and he’s kinda proud you picked his ass as your go-to- stress ball. That means you’re special to him.
— The following days after—you noticed something off about your little ginger. He's wearing tighter pants,ones that illuminated his gorgeous ass for you to see, tempting you to just rail him right then and there. And when you ask him why's he's wearing such fabric, he'll just say “ One of my comrades told wearing tighter pants would help improve your running. I must say,it does really work. ” No,in fact it did not. The only things that are running (away) right now are your restraints of keeping yourself intact and not ruin him at that very moment,you don't care where,what or why. But,one thing's for sure—his fatui subordinates will definitely see a limp in his walk the time you're done with him..that is,if he'll even be able to walk after it.
✧ He’s got the househusband hips. EVERYONE knows he squats when he's picking up something that fell from his pockets. The Pyro archon should grant him a backside blessing🤚
— You’re DEAD tired, mind racing, heart pounding like you just sprinted the Spiral Abyss. You need relief—not just mental, but... physical. You find yourself in front of the Kamisato estate,but you wondered what you came here for. It was definitely not work,you would collapse if it actually was—nor was it an invitation from the Kamisato siblings for a tea party or meeting..what did you actually come here for then? You walk in the estate with an atmosphere that surrounded you, screaming,“ Don't look,talk or even breathe near me. I'm done. ” The servants greeted you and hurriedly went off to complete their tasks,you couldn't find the energy to greet them back—only being able to give a hollow headshake with the least amount of energy. You walk,and walk and keep walking—until you find yourself arriving at the back yard of the estate. It was a.. beautiful scenery,it made you feel alive from all your stress—freshly cut grass, vibrant butterflies hovering over the beautiful and fragrant flowers and a small freshwater pond with some koi fish swimming around. You smile, just a little—the sound of sweeping nearby caught your ears,you turned to where the noise came from. Spotting a very familiar blond, sweeping away while humming an inazuman tune to himself.
Ah,you remembered now—you came here solely for your favourite stress ball, aka Thoma’s peach-shaped perfection. It’s just sitting there, waiting for you to finally give it the attention it deserves. You approach carefully slow, heart thudding, and—your movements slow, deliberate. You reach out and place both hands on that perfectly rounded, bakery-certified ass. Thoma flinches and turns around, noticing it was just you—he relaxs,“ Ah, it's just you [Name] ” Thoma says,but raises an eyebrow at your stressed out state. You press yourself up to his body, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. It’s firm but soft, with just the right give—like kneading dough that's been perfectly proofed.
You gently but firmly squeeze. The muscles flex, a shiver runs down your spine. The warmth radiates through your fingertips. Thoma’s subtle smirk tells you he knows exactly what power he holds over you—he lets you continue,while he sweeps away some dust. “ Tough day? ” He asks, already knowing how worn out you were just by the way you leaned into his warmth. You groan,you were annoyed,restless,troubled and what not with your work—each squeeze melts your tension bit by bit. The stress you carried all day? It’s crumbling like a stale biscuit. You close your eyes, breathing in that calming scent of sandalwood and plum wine lingering on his skin. Thoma couldn't help but chuckle again at how you sigh dramatically,“ You know you’re making it hard to focus... and not just because of the squeezing. ” You lift your head—not entirely,just high enough for only your eyes to be shown. You hum, nuzzling back into the side of his neck, pulling him even closer..if that was possible—the two of you were practically moulded in eachother now.
You continue your little squeezing session. Thoma stops his sweeping—and leans in,tilting his head back as he rested it against your shoulder,whispering, “ Need me to carry your burdens? ” and you can’t help but imagine how much lighter your soul feels just knowing you have this living, breathing stress ball ready anytime. He chuckles when you nod your head,the tension melting off your shoulders like a popsicle melting to the summer's heat.
You slump against him—your energy starting to be restored,muscles eased,head free of any ache, all worries gone—your stress was now replaced by a soft, steady heartbeat that reminds you—no matter how heavy life gets, Thoma’s got your back... and your front (especially the front of that ass).
— Thoma’s basically a soft but strong guy who craves connection and being needed. When you grab his ass like your personal stress ball? He feels seen and wanted on a whole new level. He’d chuckle warmly, teasing you a bit, but inside? He’s melting. He’d savor that physical touch as a sign of trust and closeness—it’s like you’re saying to him, “ You’re my safe place. ” Plus, the firmness mixed with your neediness? Totally irresistible. Thoma’s heart would race a bit, and he’d probably lean in closer—both of your body heats combining into one. He'll make definite sure you know he’s all in for this kind of intimate stress relief,by either leaning into you or lightly teasing you. He feels a certain bubble of excitement swirl in himself—knowing full well he's your number one person to go to when the world is too harsh.
Bottom line: He’s not just okay with it — he’s secretly thriving and definitely fantasizing about how to make you feel even more relaxed and loved afterward.
In the far distance,a person peeks out from one of the pillars—it was one of the Kamisato siblings, Ayaka. She chuckles solemnly,“ Wow they have some insane chemistry..” the girl smiles while she fans herself,quietly enjoying the scene in front of her just a few steps away. “ I must admit,[Name] has some exquisite taste in stress relievers. ” Ayaka thinks as she shuts her fan softly, straightening herself up as she leaves to attend her duties.
✧ You and me are very well aware that there is definitely a beautiful ass hidden behind those inazuman fabrics. No thoughts,only cheeks 🙏
— You’re stressed. The kind that makes your eye twitch and body sore that made you feel like you ran a marathon. You plop yourself onto the new futon, rubbing at your temples while a frustrated groan escapes you. You really shouldn't have drank so much coffee,now it's come to bite you in the ass and archons, it hurts like hell. Your arms spiral outwards on the soft futon below,you were drained to the brim. Drained was actually an understatement at this point. You could take a short nap and relax yourself with a nice steamy bath but,your job always has to say no. You have an appointment with some person you forgot the name of in about 16 minutes,you can't take a bath nor can you sleep. While you zone out,the soft sound of the bedroom door opening snapped you out of it. Your eyes barely opened but you knew Ayato was there. Right—now that you think about it..Your stress is the kind that only divine ass can fix.
And thank the archons—your lover, Ayato is here. Fresh out the bath, hair damp, robe loose, humming something elegant. But you? You're a war crime waiting to happen. “ I’m going to explode. ” You grumble about something underneath your breath as you sit up—he turns to look at you, eyes soft but calculating—always so composed.. Yep, that’s your last straw.
You stood up and walked over to him like a soul possessed, grabbed him by the hips, and squeezed his ass. Hard. Like your hands were sculpted for this specific task. Two perfect, pillowy stress balls just waiting in that silk robe. Ayato gasped when he felt your hands on his behind, “ My love—! W-What are you— ” you cut him off just instantly, “ Don’t move. This is therapy. ”
Ayato freezes, ears flushing a deep red. He’s trying to maintain his princely dignity, but he shudders when your thumbs knead into his lower cheeks. That robe? Ridden halfway up his slender waist. His thighs? Trembling and barely able to keep him stable. Your stress? Disintegrating like mist in the morning sun. You dive straight into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent like you have been suffocated of air for too long—a small whimper escapes your lover when he feels your warm breath on his sensitive skin. “ I swear to the Shogun, this ass was sent to heal me .” You state, buring your face even more into the curve of his neck, groping like a desperate man in a famine. Ayato couldn't help but chuckle softly, voice breathy, “ So rough today... Should I start wearing tighter robes for you, then? ” And you whisper,almost feral—his eyes widening ever so slightly, “ Do it and I’ll never let you leave the bedroom. ”
He turns just a bit, cheeks (both sets) flushed. He leans in, mischief lacing his voice, “ Then perhaps I’ll schedule less... diplomatic meetings. You clearly need a more hands-on outlet. ” You grip tighter. He gasps. You both know this is spiraling—but do you care? Absolutely not. You only have a few minutes of ass therapy and you aren't going to waste any of it. Those buns are now your emotional support cake. The more you made your grip on his cheeks firmer—the more he’s arching back into your palms. His face was flushed with pink, gulping silently whenever he felt your warm breath fan over his pale skin or, the soft whimpers that escape him when you kiss the back of his head to silently say he's doing good. Ayato is practically melting for the way you knead. Low whimpers escape his lips when you massage the softest parts. He blushes deeply when you murmur about how, “ No one else gets this view, only me. ”
Unfortunately,your time limit of ass therapy had ended—the knock on the door immediately dragged you away from your relaxation,realising you still had an appointment to attend to. “ Seems like your schedule is a bit tight, isn't it? ” Ayato smirks,you raise an annoyed eyebrow. Before you left,you made well sure your (affectionate) smack on his ass stings for days (don't worry, you'll massage it later.)
— A few days pass by, Ayato starts testing you. He's now picked up a hobby of wearing tighter pants, robes with high slits and bending a little too far forward to reach for tea. He smirks when your eyes flick down to his ass being shown to you like a divine offering, he'll definitely tease you, saying something like, “ Looking again? How scandalous my dear. ” You chuckle—you knew too well on why his clothes suddenly changed to such a range,and you won't even think of complaining.
Ayato is a secretly touch-starved brat—you, me, his sister, everyone and that one microwave knows it. Ayato's the type who would absolutely get addicted to you manhandling his perfect ass cheeks like stress relief balls, and pretend it’s “ for your well-being ” while he gets off on it. He loves the possessiveness. The attention. The desperation. The way your hands knead him like dough, while you kiss at his nape feverishly. But he won’t admit it directly. No no no. This man is subtle, refined. But behind that aristocratic smile? A teasing little menace who lives for your obsession. And when he's stressed as well or, just needy? He starts requesting it. Softly. Saying things like, “ You seem tense again, love. Would you like your favorite... remedy? ” And plops himself onto your lap with that smug little glint like, “ do your worst. ”
Canon behavior? 100%. His lines are already sensual. He bathes in luxury. He’s composed, but you just know he wants someone to break that calmness he's been holding up—and your greedy, grabby hands are just the thing. After all, Ayato did always say he lived to serve.
Him = unbothered, hydrated, cheeked up.
✧ FEMININE WAIST, but the fanart NEVER lies. Boy got hips. Built like he dances in front of the mirror to Ariana daily 😩
— Your stressed..wayyy too much—heart pounding, eyes mildly glazed over because work/life has been a nightmare,palms sweaty and forehead warmer than summer in Liyue. Despite you feeling like the entire universe was attacking your poor soul—you still offered to help your beautiful blond out to prepare dinner. Kaveh rambles on and on about his scribe roommate,bad mouthing him in every single word and chance he gets. You listened though,tiredly nodding and humming in agreement with whatever he was saying—you didn't want Kaveh to feel sad that you weren't listening to him,never in a million would you let him even feel an ounce of that emotion.
The kitchen is dimly lit—you precisely cut up the vegetables on the wooden board,while Kaveh stirs the boiling soup, occasionally tasting the flavour to make sure they all are balanced out. You find yourself alone in your thoughts,still tensed up from the day and muscles sore. You needed major relief like literally—though,you knew there was only ONE remedy to ease all of your stress—stress balls. But you didn't own any however? Your eyes drifted off to Kaveh, dropping low to catch the curve of his luscious behind—ah yes, that's the stress ball you owned. You couldn't help but steal some quick glanced at your lover—who definitely knew you were stealing looks at his cheeks. Kaveh was giving you those artistic eyebrow raises like he knows EXACTLY why your eyes keep darting south. You shift nervously for the nth time when Kaveh caught you staring—you tried to play it cool, but archons...your hand magnetically gravitates towards that peachy prize of his, unable to restrict yourself anymore. Your fingers brush the soft fabric of his pants, and ohhhh—it’s like squishing a marshmallow dipped in luxury silk. Kaveh immediately noticed your hovering hand,shooting a small mocking glance that said,“ Now I'm looking forward to where this is going. ”
Seeing at how he didn't smack your hand away,it was permission from him for you to go on. At first, you’re gentle—testing the waters—but the more you squeeze, the more your brain melts into a puddle of “THIS is the therapy I deserve.” Kaveh, cool and collected, lets out a rare smirk, maybe even teasing, “ Does this help your stress, or make it worse? ” you shoot him a quick,sharp glance. Playfully—you squeeze,just a bit firmer this time,like a warning,“ Ow! That hurts you know? ” Kaveh winces slightly,but you only chuckle instead—pulling your beloved blond close to you as you envelope your free arm around his waist from behind, keeping your forehead on his shoulder.
You tried to keep calm—but those squeezes were giving you free tickets to cloud nine and you accepted them. You’re breathing heavier now, hand moving with more confidence, molding the perfect stress ball in your palm. The warmth radiates, and suddenly the room feels smaller... hotter... and your pants are definitely betraying you,as something presses up at Kaveh's thigh. Kaveh looks down to see what was poking him—a smirk tugging at his lip—he leans in, voice low, sultry and laced with seduction, “ Don’t worry, I’m here to keep your burdens light... and your pants tight.” He chuckled when you nuzzle against him, pressing a wet,warm and open mouthed kiss to the side of his neck. Kaveh tilts his head, giving you more excess to his neck—you lavished it in kiss,small tiny nibbles and a few love bites.
You were practically enchanted by Kaveh,your hands squeezing every single fibre of stress into those squishy cheeks,mouth pressed to his sensitive spots and your body fully relaxed against him. You didn't notice,or you did but just ignored it—kaveh's hips subtly sways as you’re squeezing, like he’s purposely teasing you in the best ways imaginable. The stress melts, your heartbeat syncs to his rhythm, and suddenly all your worries are nothing compared to the soft, perfect pressure of your new favorite stress ball.
— Kaveh is just that one mysterious artist and architect, who carries a calm, collected vibe in the morning—and in the night, he's stressed, drained, worn out and what not from dealing with his dammed clients. But nonetheless, he does has a cheeky streak underneath. If you were stressed and reached out to gently squeeze his perfect peach? He’d be intrigued, not weirded out at all as he's kinda was getting off it,but he'll never admit to that. He’d actually like the intimacy of you trusting him enough to do that—because Kaveh craves real connection beyond just surface chit-chat. And, he secretly loves it when people notice and appreciate his hard-earned curves. (that hip sway isn’t for nothing).
He’d tease you just a bit—nothing too harsh, maybe a sly smile or a dry quip like, “ If this helps you unwind, I might have to start charging rent for my stress-ball services. ” And when you get too enthusiastic down below? He’d give a half-lidded, amused look and silently dare you to keep going. Because beneath that artistic exterior is a guy who definitely enjoys a little tactile attention, especially from someone who means the world to him.
✧ My good lord—he’s DEFINITELY secretly beefcake-coded. That tight coat barely containing the power. Ice daddy got that prison yard build 😭 and you know both his ass and tits bounce just right. The duke is the whole package and you can't argue with that, it's not a statement—it's a fact.
— You slump onto the couch that was placed in your beloved duke's office, eyes half-lidded, muscles tight like a coiled spring. You were dead tired, brain fried from the day and a migraine so bad you felt like you needed to be studied. Your fingers twitch at your side, craving that familiar, irresistible softness of something you would squeeze to decompress your stress into. And there was only one cure; Wriothesley’s perfect mix of firm muscle and squishy warmth. Your mind drifts off to him, standing tall, chest proud like a marble statue, and that sinfully plump ass—thick yet toned, like a masterpiece sculpted by the hydro archon's hands herself. He was in the middle of reading a document, he turned around and walked to one of the shelves that contained Fontaine's most sacred records—not even noticing the way your eyes moved with his movements. You felt the seconds tick by faster, the way your migraine goes havoc and how desperate you were to touch him. And the final string of patience snapped when he bent down to grab a file from one of the lower shelves, showing his beautiful cheeks like the archons themselves sensed your stress.
You stood up, slowly and carefully—you approached him with a maddening silence. You stopped when you were in front of him, your mind hazy and fogged up with something you couldn't quite decipher. Wriothesley was still flipping through the files on the down shelf—his eyes noticed your legs behind him, he raised his eyebrow. “ [Name]? What are you doing? ” He asks, glancing upwards to you. You didn't bother to answer—slowly, you bend down as well, your chest being pressed to his back, which caused his eyes to widen slightly at the feel of your warmth. He notices your hands lingering where only the bravest dare—his tits—and his eyes narrow with that signature gentle smirk. Like, “ Oh? You’ve discovered my secret weapon for stress relief.”
Your hands reach out, fingers sinking into the plush expanse of his pecs, feeling that delicious resistance beneath your touch. The heat radiates into your palms, loosening knots of tension with every gentle squeeze. His muscles flex subtly under your grip, promising strength and comfort. Wriothesley straightens himself as you do the same as well. He's still holding the file, while his eyes glanced over to you. Your hands slide lower, tracing the curve of his waist before settling on that bakery-level ass. You cup it with reverence—soft yet firm, like a stress ball engineered for maximum relief. A shocked gasp is bitten back by him,“Hey,what exactly are you doing here?” his tone is lighthearted, a chuckle escaping him as you bury your face into the crook of his neck—inhaling that musky scent mixed a bit with his icey cologne, ah how deeply you missed the smell of your beloved.
You squeeze his ass gently at first, you feel the tension of the day melt away with every press and release. The rhythm becomes hypnotic—your hands kneading, pressing, molding the perfect mix of strength and softness, like your very own therapy session. The heat rising in your core matches the pressure building in your hands—and somewhere between the slow deep breaths and your fingertip's ministrations, you realize; this is the stress ball you never knew you needed. The office hushes into a comfortable silence, the only thing audible are the crisp turns of old pages from the file held by Wriothesley.
A few minutes passed and the file was back to it's original place, Wriothesley parts himself from you—a whine escapes you as you try to get him back. He chuckles, turning around to face you. His signature smirk tugs at his lips, his eyes were narrowed with a playful glint—he takes a step closer to you and pulls you into a protective and soothing embrace. You're too tired to be surprised—so you only return your head back to it's spot and let your hands grip the pillowy cushions of his ass. Wriothesley only hums happily—his solid chest pressed against you, he tilts his head to the side to allow you to bury your face into him more, liking the way how you slump yourself against him. He leans in, and whispers next to your ear, “Next time, just ask. You know I’m all yours.” You only nuzzle into him as an answer.
Sitting on a chair for archon's knows time, Wriothesley feels the stiffness wash away underneath your soft kneading on his ass. He might tease you with a lazy grip back—wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you to him or, his fingers just do lazy patterns on your back—just quietly enjoying your presence near him. His touches are slow and deliberate, like a silent promise that he’s got your back.
— Wriothesley is all about strength and comfort, so knowing you find solace in his body makes him feel powerful and needed. Plus, it’s a very tactile, intimate way for you to decompress, and that makes his possessive side perk up. Not to mention, it's kind of a good benefit for him too—since he sits in his office like practically his entire life, you know well his ass is gonna be either so sore or stiff as hell. So with your hands massaging them and the way he feels the stiffness vanish? Oh he's definitely falling in love with you more. And to add to that, your kneading his chest as well? Yep, you're married to him now. Wriothesley is a surprisingly soft, protective powerhouse who’d absolutely love being your stress ball. Your relief becomes his pleasure, and he’s well.. possessive about it—making every squeeze feel like a silent vow of comfort and ownership.
Bonus: After you have had your fill—he now makes you his own personal stress relief pillow. He’s got that proud daddy energy now. Like, “Yes, you need me. And I’m not letting you go.”
✧ Slender but subtly curvy in all the right places. That long robe is hiding secrets not even Chengsheng knows 😩
— Your day’s been a hurricane of a mess—meetings, presentations, deadlines, and that existential “ why am I like this ” vibe hitting HARD than a brick falling on top of your head. But, this is life and you can't argue with it—so you ended the day with; one very irritating migraine,body sore, feet aching and mind screaming for rest. You wobble yourself into Bubu Pharmacy, and walk into your beloved's office, and there he is. Baizhu,your lover—his back faced your tired gaze, as he goes over some prescriptions Infront of his desk—composure calm, serene, concentration still.
But damn.. those curves are calling like a siren song. Average but perfectly sculpted like a classical statue you would see in a museum, curves in all the right places—the kind of soft, pillowy firmness you just wanna press into to feel everything melt away. You exhale, not even knowing you had been holding your breath when you saw him—you hesitated to speak, or mostly too drained to utter words. So, you approach him—footsteps soft and slow, Baizhu wasn't with Chengsheng as she mostly was asleep around the time you arrived, so luckily you weren't caught just immediately. Your eyes travel over his frame—drinking in every dip and curve of his figure, the way his clothing was snug around his shape and, his slutty slim waist? Oh archons, millions of questions raised in your mind—how on Teyvat did you manage to grab such eye candy? Well, you aren't complaining and that's for sure. You stop when you were right near him, your hungry gaze drops to his behind—ah, it seems you have spotted some good stress balls that can definitely ensure you, your stress will be kicked out in a second.
You press your body to him, kissing the side of his neck to alert him that it was you—Baizhu didn't flinch, he merely hummed. Of course—he already knew you were here, his golden eyes shifted to you, the corners of his lips twitch into a smile, “Welcome home dear.” His voice was soft, finishing the end of his sentence with a kiss to your temple. You didn't respond however, just busy burying your face into his neck—inhaling his medicine—like scent just made you spiral in a way no man could ever feel. Your hands go up to his front—cupping that smooth, supple chest—soft but with a satisfying resistance, like a perfect stress ball that responds just right. Baizhu's eyes widened slightly at the feel of your hands—a mix of mild surprise flashes across his face. “Hmm, so direct...” He playfully whispers, and you internally melt. Your fingers trace over his gentle curves like feathers, thumbs kneading tenderly to soothe your frazzled mind. You nuzzle into him, almost trying to mold his scent into your own. Subconsciously—your hands travel down, resting on his plush yet firm backside you had eyed for a while earlier, kneading slow circles as if each squeeze releases tension from your soul and, to be honest—it did.
Baizhu’s eyes catch yours, half amused, half indulgent—like he knows exactly what you need and he’s all in. You can almost feel the warmth radiate through your palms, a gentle pulse of calm spreading through your body with every squeeze and release. Baizhu chuckles, a deep and rich sound that rumbled through his chest. Suddenly your breath gets a little heavier at that—you pause for a second, lifting your head up to face the doctor. “ Your killing me... ” You mumble and, he only smirks—because he knows how delicious he looks and, how on edge you are right now. The half hooded gaze he gives your way, the way his lips curl up in a barely concealed grin and the subtle way he leans onto you, just made your pants tightened way too much. Because stress relief just took a very sexy turn. You move closer to his neck, pulling some of the fabric down to expose his skin to you—you nibble on the soft skin of his and occasionally press light kisses to it.
Baizhu chuckles softly at your antics, voice smooth like herbal tea you desperately wanted to drink up, “Would you like me to further... assist in your relaxation?” You nod with no hesitation. And maybe, just maybe, he lets you lean onto him a bit more—bodies colliding with in a soft intimate way, his hands however remained busy, while he whispers calming things into your ear—because honey, sometimes the best therapy is a perfect pair of stress balls and someone who knows exactly how to use them.
— Baizhu’s calm exterior definitely hides a deep appreciation for gentle, sincere affection. He’s that rare type who’s mostly into being touched in thoughtful, soothing yet sensual ways—especially if it helps someone he cares about relax and maybe even him as well. So when your little grabby hands do this to him? Oh you bet he's melting into a puddle from your soft yet intimate touches. At first, he’d feel somewhat surprised—but then, he'd feel genuine warmth and comfort, knowing you trust him enough to let your stress out on him in such ways. You might have not noticed it but—there's thus slight, barely-there teasing smirk (because yes, he knows how good he looks, that little part of his exposed waist isn't there for nothing.)
Conclusion: Baizhu absolutely loves it when you need him, and being your “stress ball” would probably make him smile softly for days and recall it for centuries. And he’s definitely not above using that to his advantage...
✧ Big chest? Yep. Booty? Undecided. But the armor emphasizes a firm package all around. You can just tell this man's got those forbidden curves that make passing men pause ✨
— You’re deadass stressed from your commissions and tasks—brain frying like overcooked ramen, heart pounding, thoughts spiraling neverending like a rollercoaster. You sigh—slumping against the smooth rock behind you,it was nighttime now and you two had travelled off far, as you usually do. The campsite was set,tent ready for a good night rest,a fire cackled in the middle that warmed the coldness off you and the fresh smell of nicely cooked vegetables and fish assaulted your nose—just the soft hum of crickets and the river nearby was heard in the tranquillity of the night. You lean yourself onto the rock, trying your best to support yourself straight and not pass out right there,which would cause you to miss dinner. Your eyes seemed to wander off to where Dainsleif was—who was standing nearby, currently roasting some fish he had caught just a few minutes ago, face focused and his usual composure, replaced by something relaxed. He was rotating the cooked fish above the fire,his crystal and icey blue eyes fixed on the sizzling of the fish's meat. Your eyes wander down—locking onto his chest first—broad, thick, with just enough softness to promise the perfect give when squeezed. Your hands itch at your sides while your breath stutters for a second.
You mutter underneath your breath,“ I need... I need to squeeze something. Something firm. Something real. ” and with that,you stood up hazily and walked to where your beloved was—Dainsleif noticed you approaching him,his head lifts up to look at you, “ Do you need something,[Name]? ” his voice was the usual tone,but something a bit softer being laced on the underside of it when he says your name. You didn't answer—or you didn't want to,you settled beside him, eyes feral like a man possessed,hands urging you to find something to squeeze and mind fogging up. Dainsleif was confused,but he didn't think much of it—until,a pair of desperate hands find their way to his chest, firmly squeezing. An amused look flashed his features,but he smirks immediately after—knowingly. Eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. Without a word, he leans back into you as to encourage you to continue. “ It seems someone had a rough day? ” He coos at you,not mockingly,never but in a way where you can sense the softness in his words.
You dig in. The firmness is amazing,no heavenly—like pressing into clouds made of marble and divine blessings. His heartbeat steady beneath your palms, grounding,making you feel much alive than you were before. Your stress starts melting. You knead his chest eagerly, as if it would disappear the moment you stop kneading—you sigh,this time more relaxed and less tensed. You pull him closer,a chuckle escaping him at your actions. Then,slowly—your gaze dips to his infamous ass cheeks, which he casually shifts—giving you full access,already knowing you're looking at it. You smile,burying your face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as if you were trying to memorize it. One of your hands part from his pecs,and sink into one of those thick, curvy cheeks you loved biting at—it was plump, soft, and deliciously firm. Every squeeze feels like squeezing out the tension from your bones.
His head tilts back—despite his mask covering a side of his face,you could still see the way his face was displaying a teasing playfulness,he leans in close, voice low near your ear, “ Feeling better? ” You barely manage a breath, hands still kneading, heart racing,tension falling off your shoulders like feathers. You hum, low, gutteral, almost like a growl—the corner of his eyes curve up, resuming back to cooking the fish.
The more you continue,the more Dainsleif started to love every second and feel of your touch on his chest and behind.
— Dainsleif is known as tough and, he was mainly used to more harsher environments—but he appreciates honesty and vulnerability. When you,who was practically drained of energy,start squeezing, he won’t just let you—he’ll lean into it, a subtle smirk playing on his lips, because he knows how much you need this. He’d appreciate the physical comfort and the slow burn intimacy of it—like you trust him enough to relieve your stress in that way. Plus, he’s got a soft spot under all that ruggedness, so when you grab those “stress balls,” he’s not only cool with it—he might even enjoy teasing you about how desperate you look. And when,it’s just the two of you, he’s all about that tender, grounding connection—so expect him to hold you close, maybe whisper some low, reassuring words, and make you forget why you were stressed in the first place. Dainsleif’s all about turning your stress into a sensual, comforting moment. When you first did this,he’d be amused, flattered, and secretly thrilled you picked his thick assets as your stress relief—because honestly, who could resist? Your favorite “stress balls” never felt so alive and needy for your attention and you—will grant it without no hesitation.
✧ Smaller build but thicc tail energy = thicc elsewhere.
— You had the worst day ever recorded in history. Projects, presentations, interviews, board meetings and literally what not? You barely survived the day—props to all the caffeine drinks you gulped down in a span of a minute. You wobble yourself into the living room—leaning against the doorframe for support to keep your worn out body from collapsing to the floor. Your mind was racing like a storm, heart pounding, muscles tight like coiled springs about to break any second—you lift your head when you hear a small tune of humming and, there he was. Tighnari, standing cool and calm, that signature sly smile teasing at the corners of his lips as he mixes some herbs together, that you assume was for some plant fertiliser. But what really grabbed your attention when you saw your little foxie? That thick, plush ass. Wrapped in those tight leather pants like a feast, and that floofy, fluffy tail, swishing just enough to hypnotize you into a trance.
The corner of your lips twitch upwards—at last, you can finally be free from these shackles of exhaustion. Without even thinking twice, your legs brought you to him. Tighnari's long ears twitched at the sound of your footsteps, he turns slightly to face you, “Welcome home, you look quite..tensed.” he states while mashing the medicine smelling herbs. You huff a deep breath, not answering his question and instead..your hands reach out—trembling, desperate—and grip onto those heavenly curves like a lifeline. Tighnari freezes for a solid second but you could care at this point. The instant your fingers pressed into that thick cushion—every single tense knot inside you just melts away. The warmth of his skin radiates through your palms, the soft resistance of muscle and fat a soothing counterpoint to your frantic thoughts. You bury your face into his shoulder. Tighnari raises an eyebrow, almost questioning on how you can be so direct sometimes. But he has to admit, he loves it when you act like this.
He leans against your body, one of his hands reach out and ruffle your already messed up hair, “Someone's stressed mm?” You only mumble something in his shoulder, it wasn't clear but he knew what you meant. His tail curled around the hand that was squeezing his cheeks like never before—urging you to give it attention as well. You grumble when you feel something fluffy wrap around your hand—adjusting your head to look at what was disturbing your session of relaxation. You notice its his tail. Oh, sweet mercy. You couldn't help but run your fingers through the fluff, ruffling it softly, feeling that silky texture glide between your fingers like a whisper of calm. The light tickle sends a shiver down your spine, making your breathing hitch.
Tighnari chuckles low, that deep, smooth sound that vibrates in his chest—right beneath your eager hands—and he leans in close, right next to your ear. “Feeling better already?” he murmurs, voice thick with teasing affection. You can only nod, too breathless to speak, your gaze locked on his eyes that shine with a mix of amusement and something hotter—something almost possessive. His hands find your wrists, gently but firmly pulling them closer, encouraging you to keep exploring. The world outside fades into a soft blur as your fingers knead and squeeze, the perfect tension of muscle and softness beneath your touch filling you with a strange, electric satisfaction. Your pants suddenly feel a little tighter than before—something in you standing taller than Cyno ever could—and you curse the delicious torture of wanting more. More softness. More heat. More Tighnari. He smirks, turning himself a bit to brush a whisper of a kiss against your cheek, tail flicking once in playful command. “Stress relief has never looked this good for you, i assume? ” he teases, voice thick as honey dripping over your skin. You only shudder at his voice—knees almost losing their balance, you curse yourself on how easy you are to that voice of his.
— Tighnari LOVES it. Like, legit LOVES it. He’s a chill, observant guy, so at first, he’s kinda surprised by your bold move—but then he catches that spark in your eyes and that desperate need for comfort, and suddenly he’s all in. He adores the way you gently press into his thick ass and, ruffle his fluffy tail because, it shows your trust and affection in the most tactile way possible. His tail flicks happily, ears twitch, and he leans into your touch like a cat purring for pets. And to be honest, he’s a little proud, too—knowing his “stress balls” aren’t just for show, they’re your favorite go-to. He might even tease you about it later, but his tone will always be affectionate, and he’ll definitely reward you with some cozy, close moments after.
So, basically: squeezing Tighnari’s thicc ass and floofy tail is a win-win for BOTH of you(iykyk). You get your stress relief, and he gets his ego (and tail!) stroked.
✧Oh my god..don't even get me STARTED on this beautiful man 😩 bro's got the entire package and definitely gets tips from Wriothesley on how he can jiggle those sinful melons and bakery.
— You're tired. Stressed. The world’s been chewing you up and spitting you out like bubblegum. Papers everywhere. Deadlines? Dead. Sanity? Hanging on by one overstimulated nerve. Mind? Frantically overused and heating like a broken car engine. And lastly, Sleep? .. let's say you haven't meet them in a while. But, you somehow the other forced your legs to walk—now you find yourself in the living room of your shared home. You took your shoes off and, let your sore feet finally breathe, your suitcase was kept aside and you undid your tie. And when you lift your head up... He's laying on the couch. One arm propped up to keep his head up, and he's looking straight at you.
Ifa. Your living breathing tension release therapy. Soft where you need it, strong where it counts. Built like sin dipped in silk. He just needs one look at you—barely even able to stand straight, twitching, breathing like a haunted fax machine—and says with that calm, chocolatey, smug voice of his, “Poor thing. Come here. You know what helps.” his arms spread outward, inviting you into his comfy embrace and, you don’t hesitate to accept it. You come to him all touch-starved and strung-out, plopping yourself onto him with all the energy in you being severely taken out—you dive your face into the plush peaks of his chest, arms wrapping around him like a koala going through it. And your hands? Full grip. You hands full of squish and face buried in his tits like they’re your emotional floaties—and at first? He just smirks, all slow and knowing.
His chest is so warm, so firm, yet pliant—like luxury marshmallows made of sin and silk. Then you start kneading him like you’re about to bake your feelings into his breasts—And that’s when something switches in him.
His breath catches. He presses into your palms, hips subtly grinding against you like he's trying to mark you with every curve. His lips sealed shut with him biting on them.
You swear you feel the tension melt out of you with every squish and knead, taking small notes on where's he's most sensitive. He chuckles, low and deep, but there was this slight tremble in it, his lips brushed your ear, “You’re lucky I like being your personal stress toy.” his fingers tangle with the messy locks of your hair, threading through them as he smiles. You groan against him, and without a second thought being considered—your palms drift lower—and they know the path. Landing straight on that ASS.
That dual-wielded bakery.
Each cheek sits like it’s defying gravity and the Pryo Archon herself. You squeeze and he arches into your touch, biting back a very loud whimper, but he couldn't hide the pleased hum that rumbles in his throat. His voice was now breathy, something raw being voiced through it, “Needy today, aren’t we?” You only squeeze a bit firmer on his behind—now both of your hands were rested on each of his cheeks, your face was still buried in his pecs like they were your all time favourite pillows. Ifa chuckles,“You’re gonna leave fingerprints if you keep that up.” You don’t care. You knead, you grope, you worship. And Ifa lets you. Because he’s your temple. Ifa isn't just dummy thicc for show—he’s your therapy, your comfort plush, your prize.
His hands go to your waist, guiding you into him like you’re meant to fit right there, like your stress was always meant to be relieved with him in your arms, under your fingers, moaning just for you. And your pants? Tighter than Albedo's moral compass.
Xiao could pole vault with the rise you're experiencing right now.
You continue, all the tension in your muscles being dispatched and, you feel the weight on your shoulders vanish. “Does it help?” he whispers, voice breathy and strained from biting his moans back, you only nod—humming happily as you finally can breathe without being trampled in work. Ifa pauses, looking for his own response, “Then don’t stop. Keep going... Until you can’t think of anything but me.”
— Ifa loves it. Too much. Almost dangerously so. He craves it—the feeling of being wanted viscerally, of your fingers sinking into every soft, tender, private* part of him that no one else gets to touch. You don’t just touch him—you cling, knead, worship— and that does things to him. Dangerous, needy things. He teases you and makes light-hearted jokes, but inside? He's thinking over and over again, “ Yes. Yes. More. Don’t stop. Use me. Lose your mind. Make it mine.” Because who can resist those cute, desperate hands of yours? Not him of course.
And when your done—in the back of his mind, he’s already planning how he’s gonna return the favor later—except his hands will be the ones squeezing, and you’ll be the one moaning his name like a confession.
