[explicitred]

Cuddles with HSR Men

Anaxa, Aventurine, Blade, Sunday, Caelus, Phainon, and Dan Heng/Imbib x Reader

suggestive at end with Dan Heng

yayayay hsr men

Anaxa

The heretic and blasphemer... Despite having such a negative reputation, he truly didn't reflect it in bed with you. His arms would hold your body against his so snugly, refusing to let go of you. Oh, you thought you could just get up in the middle of the night to get a cup of water? Too bad. He was too comfortable right now.

"Mm... Where the dromas are you going...? It's too late for this..." Anaxa grumbled, shifting to cling to you tighter. Harder. Closer. It didn't matter to him as you continued to try and squirm out of his hold.

"Anaxa, I'm just getting up for water..." You murmured back, voice sleepy and tired from having just woken up. He didn't say anything about the name. He never did when it came to you.

"You can get water later. Your hydration level is fine right now. Your hunger as well. As a scholar, I review, follow your data closely, and write these things meticulously down, you know. I checked your schedule for tomorrow, and for the next three months. You need more rest, otherwise it'll create a domino effect. Also, with our combined body heat, it will create the perfect temperature for comfortable sleeping and-"

"Shut up. And how do you know my schedule for the next three months?"

Aventurine

This rich man. He spoils you in every way possible, and that includes in the bedroom. The bed is made of the finest, softest materials, and silk sheets accompany it.

Aventurine only stretches comfortably on the bed, waiting for you to join him as if he hadn't just spent an amount that most people would consider to be their entire life's savings.

Of course, who were you to refuse? You had everything that you wanted, and he was so good to you today, as he was every day.

"Darling~ I want you here by my side, sweetheart. I'm tired after all that spending, and I need some cuddles to regain some of my strength..."

You merely deadpan, your soft mood vanishing as you amusedly watched him be all dramatic as usual. How cute. You supposed he was just that needy, after all.

You slip under the covers, the silk sheets rubbing against you nicely as always. So incredibly soft. He did know how to spend his money...

The moment you got into the bed, he wrapped his arms around you, exhaling in bliss, rubbing his cheek against yours like an affectionate cat, "I love it when it's just me and you..."

"Just me and you forever, right?" Aventurine murmured, gently pulling you closer into his arms.

Blade

After a long and rough day, all Blade needs and wants is just to hold you in his arms in bed and relax with you. He's like a moody, grumpy cat that turns into a needy little kitty suddenly whenever he's in your arms.

Truly, you soothe him. He wants to be with you for all of eternity. Perhaps he could find a way to make you immortal? Or were you already immortal?

He's a soft man underneath the cold, hard exterior. He doesn't even mind when you call him Bladie or Yingxing. Whatever you call him, he doesn't mind when it comes to you.

Blade relaxes in your hold, his arms wrapped possessively around your body, already feeling himself let go. Oh, you were the perfect darling.

He laid perfectly still, content to be snug against you as you rambled on about your day to him. He loves your voice, you should talk more. He wasn't a man of many words himself. He was more content to listen to your voice instead, his beloved.

"Mm." Blade quietly hummed, making sure you knew that he was listening, as always. He nuzzled his head like a cat against you, affectionate as usual.

Blade would do anything to keep you.

Stay with him Stay with him Stay with him

Ah, this was eternal bliss.

Sunday

During the early stages of your relationship with Sunday, he would intensely blush and be flustered, wings twitching and hiding his face every time you even so much as shifted against him in bed. He was so cute, the poor angel.

Now that he was more used to and comfortable with you, he eagerly awaited your touch every night, waiting for what you allowed him to have. He'd take any scraps of your love.

"Darling... Are you ready for bed?" Sunday murmured, hands already reaching out to hold you by the waist. He couldn't help it. You were so irresistible to him.

He could only cutely smile, a lovesick expression in his eyes as you reciprocated his hug, guiding him to the bed. He quietly exhaled, immediately relaxing further as he held you against him once in bed.

"Mm... I love you." Sunday mumbled, his voice muffled as he pressed his face against you. He was obsessed and so, so in love. He didn't care about anything else when he was with you. No other thoughts buzzing around. No other stresses. Your presence was so addicting.

Preen him. Praise him. Hug him. Do whatever you want with him.

Please keep him forever. He's a just a needy little angel. Or birb. Whatever you want him to be, he could be for you.

He never wants to lose your interest.

Sunday is yours, don't forget that <3

Caelus

This raccoon... Caelus is always oddly eager whenever you're around, smiling like a schoolboy with a crush. March 7th would always tease him for it, but he never minded. Who was he to care when he could drag you around to forage through the trashcans? It was the best thing for him to do!

But even raccoons needed rest after a long day of going through other people's trashes... He would snuggle up to you contently, hugging you in bed as he excitedly started recounting what he had found through trashcans. Or maybe just his day in general. The trashcan treasures were more of a preferable topic for him, however.

Caelus nuzzled against you, affectionately rubbing his head against your soft skin, "And so I then found a naked chicken plushie that was wearing a maid costume that was actually a portable tent that also had restorative treatments like face masks and surgeries! Hey, do you think I could sell it and have someone try it out for me-?"

"What are you on about? Go to sleep, Caelus."

"But sweetheart, this is important! Don't you want to hear about the dancing rats that I found in the streets as well?"

Your poor raccoon was too far gone. Just cuddle him and go to sleep.

Phainon

This adorable, fluffy white puppy. He practically drags you to the bedroom any chance he gets with a wide smile on his face, always eager and excited to cuddle.

"Come on! I wanna cuddle and snuggle up and-!"

"Alright, alright. You're already dragging me there anyway." You smiled, amused by his eagerness. He was always like this. Either out and about, battling and challenging Mydei or doing silly, cute stuff just for the sake of your smile, always wanting your attention and to please you. The flowers and gifts he bought you the other day were still sat on the bedside table.

"Sunshine, guess what?! I saw these cute little trinkets today at this shop and I think we should go there tomorrow! I can show you around there, and I bet you'd love it! Oh, and-!"

Phainon continued to ramble, excitedly talking about anything and everything, wanting to keep your attention on him. You only hummed in response, gently petting his head and running your fingers through the silky locks.

"I also challenged Mydei to another sauna competition where we see who can stay in the hot water the longest! Just to prove how competent I am, I'll even throw on an inflatable unicorn costume over my armor!"

"...Sweetheart, no."

Dan Heng/Imbib

So cute. Really, he was like a puppy, except in dragon form. Dan Heng didn't mind sleeping with you in either form. Whatever you wanted was his command. Though, he did secretly like being in his dragon form around you. In bed, his dragon tail would wrap around your form, trapping you oh so sweetly against him.

Dragons are possessive of their mate and treasures, after all. You're considered both in his eyes.

Dan Heng gently rubbed his cheek against yours cutely, his tail wrapping tighter around your body. How could he not? You were just so perfect and snug against him... The perfect match.

Besides, when he was in this particular draconic form, he had more of a hold on you. Metaphorically and literally. He lets you play with his horns and tail, and he gets to literally trap you in his arms and tail at the same time, preventing you from escaping his very much needed and necessary daily cuddling.

"Darling... What do you think about hatching a baby Vidyadhara?"

"Where would we get a Vidyadhara egg?"

Dan Heng only averts his eyes, a light blush coating his cheeks. Must you have him say it out loud to you?

"Well... You're my mate, so... You could just do some things with me and-"

"Night."

Dan Heng only pouted at that, gently huffing against your skin, "The offer's still up whenever you want it... You know I get particularly needy at certain points."

How mean. Couldn't you just indulge this poor, needy, and sensitive little dragon?

[yahinata]

[kashuuw]

🫧🛁⋆｡˚ Var. GENSHIN MEN .ᐟ.ᐟ walking in on them in the bathtub

⊹˚.FEATURING : Varka. Lohen. Neuvillette. Wriothesley. [x fem reader] ⤷ (tall elegant/hunky overworked men mmm & a spicy twink) ⊹˚. CONTENT : where you would unexpectedly stumble into the bathroom of various! genshin men in the bathtub after they've had a very long day at work/are stressed, who are all desperately in need of a way to release their pent-up frustrations, sadness, or teasing.

ⓘ : SFW/NSFW MDNI. Mix of fluff/comfort/intimate/light angst/teasing scenarios with a mix of light intimate smut at the end. making out. biting. grinding. whining. A/N: please dont let this flop i swear i put all my hotness/freakiness for all of them into this kewk. pls lmk if you've enjoyed! && if u want to be tagged in more content like this/want pt 2 ^^ ;(

SFW: .𖥔 ݁VARKA would be found with one leg and arm slung carelessly over the bathtub’s edge, water lukewarm with a new collection of bruises and cuts littered across his skin like proof of long war instead of a day spent wrangling recruits.

When you stood outside the door to his bathroom, you could already hear the off-key humming of Monstandt’s anthem through the door he’d once forgotten to lock… again. At first, when you entered, he was surprised (not really). The once confident, loud singing stuttered into a sheepish laugh once he realised it was you standing there and not one of his knights.

Flustered, you make a few awkward gestures: something along the lines of reassuring him you could leave, and hearing that he’d had a rough day with nearly being poisoned by a certain vice-captain (again) while also being beaten up by a few wooden sticks. Except, before you could even finish, Varka was already patting the space beside the tub with a conveniently placed little stool like he’d been expecting you all along.

“You should’ve seen it, the recruits nearly burned down half the training yard,” he’d start, grinning despite the bad state of his cuts on his large, muscular arms and legs, “and don’t even get me started on Lohen,” he tuts, shaking his head, “I swear any day now he will actually kill me.”  Your gaze goes from observing his face to the cuts on his arm. “You’re still bleeding,” you’d point out, towards one of the worse cuts. You reached over to the side of the sink's cabinet, grabbing a towel, wringing it with warm water before pressing it onto the wound. Varks winced, “Barely,” he’d say, entirely unbothered, “You should’ve seen what I did to the trainee, he’s–” “Varka.” “It’s fine,” he’d laugh, though he'd go quiet when he finally realised your hand on his arm.

NSFW: Unbeknownst to you, Varka’s laugh cuts off, a heavy silence filling the room instead, with his chest expanding in a deep, shaky breath in – the boisterous, confident captain persona slowly fading into a different type of hunger. Before you could pull the towel away to wring it once more, his other massive scarred hand shot out of the warm water, wrapping around your wrist. With a swift, effortless heave, he drags you right over the lip of the tub, causing the water to splash violently over like a wave. You crash into his chest, now clothes see-through and plastering flatly against your skin, exposing the shape of your perky breasts and waist that drove him insane. 

He doesn’t give you a second to complain, pinning you down to the side of the tub in one fluid motion – his calloused, rough hands running up and down each fabric and curve of your skin. His hungry tongue tastes every corner of your mouth, causing you to whine, hands finding and gripping onto his blonde locks for stability. He doesn’t tease; he doesn’t think either,  immediately bucking his hips, slapping his hardened thick length against your wet-clothed cunt. “If you’re gonna see me like this… and touch me like that… don’t leave me halfway, sweetheart.”

SFW: .𖥔 ݁LOHEN would be found with an arm over the tub, hand drumming and fidgeting at the edge of the makeshift wooden bathspot just a little outside the expedition camp, with the water just reaching around the top of his chest. The complaints from the recruits about his smell got to him – from the endless nights of staying up on watch and, worst of it all, the stubborn smell of blood that clung to his skin and armour. Against all arguments, he was finally ordered to take a bath before someone else passed out during training (cough… and not because of the long hours of training).

You hadn’t expected company when you had decided to slip away from camp for the same reason. Before you even stepped foot close to the bath, you could hear an odd rhythm of scratching and tapping against something near. As you treaded carefully, pushing the curtain to the side, a dagger greeted your head – aimed – shot – embedded deep into the tree. Certainly, a warm welcome to the relaxing bath you planned.

“Oops,” he’d say, not even flinching, already reaching for another blade tucked in gods knows where, like it was natural for him. “Reflexes. Can’t really turn those off huh,”  “What is wrong with you? You could’ve killed me?” you yell, trying to collect yourself and the pile of towels and clothes you held in your hand. “Nah,” he’d shrug, finally cracking that annoying stupid grin of his, “Would’ve missed ya again.” he pauses, “probably.” “Lohen.” “Relax, relax,” he cooed, “I’m always prepared, I thought I taught you that?” leaning back against the wooden tub with his arms tucked relax behind his head, watching you with far too much amusement for someone who’d just nearly ended your life right at your face, “Didn’t think you were the type of person to wander this far from camp at this hour though.” his gaze narrowing towards you. “Same reason as you, don’t act like I don’t know,” you say, stepping closer inwards, “About all the recruits complaining about the smell,” that earned a short laugh from him easing his restlessness, “Fair. Mmm, I might as well share the water then” he says shifting over, nodding his head as a gesture to the spot right next to him… in the empty tub, “unless… you’re scared I’ll throw something else at you.” “You wouldn’t dare.” “...No”, he’d admit a little softer, “Not now, when I know its you.”

NSFW: Eventually, after a lot of mental back and forth and telling LOHEN to look the other way, you’d let the towel slip from your body — finding your footing into the narrow makeshift wooden tub next to him. 

His lazy smirk returns to his face. “You still look like you’re scared I’ll attack you again,” he murmurs smoothly near your ear. Smoothly, he’d stretch out his arm, slinging it over the wooden edge behind you. The warmth from his bicep brushed against your bare back, pricking into your skin – fingers drumming against the wood again. You don’t move. Then his hands drift down, leaving the edge of the tub, slowly sliding down your shoulder before his palm cups your inner thighs, tracing slow circles, parting your legs a little further, squeezing your sensitive skin. You’d try to scold his name, yet it fails, coming out as a breathy moan; he simply hums, continuing to test your limits as his fingers deliberately brush against your cunt, testing how wet and slick you’ve become simply from his touch. 

After he'd finished teasing you, his fingers entered inside you, working to stretch you out just for him. Before you react, his other hand snaps to your head, anchoring deep into your hair, tilting your head back to force you to look into his half-lidded stare. He’d lean in, breath hot, brushing against your lips, until he finally kisses you, nibbling on your bottom lip, swallowing your whimpers. “Now tell me, did you expect this attack mm?”

SFW: .𖥔 ݁ Neuvillette would be found with his eyes closed, head tipped back against the tiles and throat bare to the ceiling, with his long white hair slipped loose, sticking across his wide chest and afloat in the tub.

You would find him tucked away in the Palais private bath with steam curling around him, accompanied by the sound of bitter rain hitting the window pane. When you entered after the silence as the permission to answer – he wasn’t startled, long knowing already that it was you the second your footsteps had entered the hallway to his palace. You would try to explain to him why you were there, because you were simply worried about him (and because of the endless downpour of rain cough). Although still a little confused and amused, he’d offer you a few words with a faint smile.

“I’m here to— It was a long day today,” you finally spluttered out, fiddling with the ending hem of your shirt. “You can go back to sleep”, he replies, cutting you off. “I can’t not until I know you’re–”  “Still breathing? Safe in my own bathtub?” he remarks, almost amused through his apparent exhaustion. “Don’t do that…” you mutter, your shirt now bunched up inside your fist, “don’t make me sound so foolish.” A brief pause. His eyes find yours, the sound of water shifting as he turns his head towards you, “I am not laughing at you…” his voice steadier now, “I simply find it strange that you would brave the rain at this hour, for something so trivial as my company.”  “This isn’t a trivial matter to me,” you stated firmly facing him. “... Stay then, if you’d like.”

NSFW: You couldn’t have said when it happened or how – only that you were seated at the edge of the bathtub, legs submerged in the warm water, resting at your calves. And Neuvillette, in turn, seemed unaware of when his temple had come against your knee as if it naturally belonged there the entire night. Before you even knew it, you would be inside the bath, clothes wet, straddled across his abdomen with hands clawing onto his large back for support. It started gently with light peppering kisses along your legs until it wasn’t. 

His tongue pushed inside your mouth while his delicate fingers fondled your breasts in slow circular motions, rolling his abdomen in desperate need for any friction against your clothed cunt. Yet you couldn’t care less about any of the clothes; the only thing on your mind was how badly you wanted him to keep touching you like this. “Stay with me,” he presses another kiss against your lips, “please, mon amour,” he pants, “just for tonight, I need you to stay here.”

SFW: .𖥔 ݁ WRIOTHESLEY would be found sunken low in the tub, with his messy, usual unbrushed wolfy hair deflated and clinging flatly against his head. The water would be still, almost too silent, missing the sounds of chaos from his usual sloshing and scrubbing.

He would be tucked away in his quarters below the fortress; the absence of chaotic splashing, complaints of how the tea was too cold, or his encounters with haughty ministers, and mutters about paperwork was the first thing that struck you. It was quiet. Still. And importantly, he didn’t even react the moment you entered; he didn’t look up right away or call out to you, his eyes fixed somewhere deep inside the water, someplace you didn’t understand yet.

“Hard day today,” he’d finally say, voice flat, “it was a case involving a kid, an orphan. He was my age when I–” his voice broke. He didn’t elaborate much further, jaw tightening right before he stopped. You’d move in closer without a word, kneeling by the tub’s edge, looking up at him. That was the exact moment when you saw something that made your heart sink – a small tear he couldn’t manage to blink away, slowly sliding down his cheek. “Hey–” your hand instinctively moving to his cheek without a second thought, reaching to brush it away with your thumb. He flinched, just slightly from surprise, before letting out a long breath. “Didn’t realise I was that soft now,” he’d mutter, a little embarrassed. “You’re not soft. I just know you Wrio.” A brief pause, where his eyes would finally meet yours – the man you knew behind the warden title.  “If you’re staying, just know that you’re gonna get the real thing…” he said quieter, eyes dropping to the water again, “just this, just me.”   Your thumb softly drew circles on his cheek. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

NSFW: .𖥔 ݁ WRIOTHESLEY went entirely still, letting the quiet sound of sloshing drown amongst the heavy silence of steam pumps and engines. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, peering through the messy curtains of his bangs to look up at you with that stare. As you’re about to say something, his large scarred hand slides towards your neck, slowly sliding behind your neck – fingers entangling gently in your hair with his touch trembling slightly as he guides you over the tub.  The warm water swells over the edges, soaking through your lap and clothes. Gently, he holds and pulls you down onto his lap, holding you flush against his bare chest.

He digs his face into the crook of your neck, breathing shakily and low under your skin as he tilts his hips to move his length inside you. He’s slow this time, neither teasing nor fast like it usually is – sliding in heavy and achy before reaching your deepest spot. He’d hold himself deep inside you still, gently sucking the side of your neck, his palms smooth over your wet back, tracing the line of your spine with a tingling sensation like he was trying to drown the ghosts of his memories inside your body. A ragged sigh escapes his lips, forehead resting against yours, “Don’t leave me…”

[koipudding]

(a thought i’ve had—reader isn’t gendered here/no pronouns)

jing yuan who hasn’t felt this way in a long time, this ugly thing curling around his heart, squeezing and stabbing, and can’t find the words to act upon it. He wants you, needs you but keeping you would be cruel, and you deserve more than to be tethered to an aging husk like himself. So he lingers, teases, prods until you’re hissing and pushing him away. Or he’ll lean on you, let you do the same so you fall into his lap, curling around him before bed.

There are no words for this, for the hatred he harbors for Yutie when you talk to the soldier for too long, or how he would smite down that stranger for even thinking of looking at you like he’s even worth talking to you. These things aren’t something he can arrest or punish them for. He can’t blame them when you look at him like that.

Maybe if he listened he’d know you feel the same, want to spend your remaining days with him, that sometimes you want to kiss him, hold him, keep him tucked away in your arms until the two of you eventually lose your minds. Wouldn’t that be nice?

guys i love jealous/possessive jy who has to restrain himself it’s so yummy im sorry.

[rennwritestories]

Jing Yuan is annoying, that's what you call him constantly. But do not fret, that man hears the insult in one ear and out the other.

The most he'll do is fake a complain as he pulls you closer, he wants to be as close as possible. Even if it results in you being squished by his much larger form, but he'll never hurt you.

If someone had the ability to have all the love languages, Jing Yuan is one of them. That man will throw gifts at you while also praising you for the simplest thing he noticed. You got a haircut? You look amazing. Tried out a new outfit? He's in love!!

All while holding your hand, he wants you to feel the love he has for you, even if he's busy with all his general duties.

He's the definition of clingy, he will complain if you're gone for a day much more a week or longer. He claims you're his lucky charm, refusing to do anything without you near him.

Jing Yuan will not hesitate on spoiling you, so don't take him shopping cause he'll try buying the whole store. His priority is your happiness, even if his methods are kind of annoying to you.

"You're heavy.." But the man just laughed, it was truly a sight. You almost weren't seen by people except for the fact that he kept kissing your head. He's engulfed you into another hug, his arms around you as he made up another reason to stop working. He needs rest he says, except he's the one who woke up two hours after the meeting he was supposed to attend.

"And you keep complaining" He responds, moving closer than physically possible. He won't let go, he has no plans to. So it's time to get comfortable, lean into him and you might even start to hear purring from your sleepy lion general.

[egg-zrin]

𝑱𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒂𝒏 𝒓𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒐𝒏𝒔!

How would Jing Yuan be in a loving relationship?

𝑻𝑾: Potential spoilers for his lore, simple sparring, other than that there are none. No pronouns are used or implied.

𝑺𝒊𝒅𝒆 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: Phew, this one was a little more difficult for me. A lot of HSR characters have a lot of lore and backstory to them, and a certain way they act that makes it hard to write for my little ping pong ball brain so I’m not too proud of this one. My apologies for the delay, please enjoy!

·༻𐫱༺·

𝑱𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒀𝒖𝒂𝒏:

• Jing yuan is a very fastidious man, meaning he pays attention to detail and accuracy even if it’s small. This applies to his job, and you especially. He notices small habits that you probably never paid attention to, and little changes in your expressions when you react a certain way. If something in your demeanor changes negatively, he doesn’t step in unless he knows how bad it actually is. If it’s small, he’ll work on little actions or say something silly to make you smile again.

• Speaking of that, you can definitely count on him teasing you a lot, or pulling small pranks on you all so he can see your reaction. Will you get annoyed at him, scold him, or simply laugh? Hm… a curious thought. It is possible to turn the tables on him, though. He is so rarely outsmarted that even Fu xuan has trouble predicting him. If you do win in a game of chess against him, color him both impressed and proud.

• The general has a lot of forms of affection; Physical touch, words of affirmation when it’s needed, and quality time. Jing yuan is a busy man, that makes all time he spends with you precious to him. It could be a simple sparring match, watering his garden with him, or just snoozing together! If he notices that you aren’t taking a break between work, count your days because you are now unable to escape his arms. Work is important, but getting enough nap time is equally important too.

• In Jing yuan’s long life, he’s had many regrets. Some may have been resolved, but some may still linger. As I mentioned before, sparring with you eases his mind. There are people out there who are willing to use you as leverage against him, and that is a terrifying prospect for him. He is a general who will minimize the losses even if it puts him into deep water. Even when playing a chess game, even if you play your cards right, there is always an opportunity for you to lose. That includes him too. With you, he doesn’t want to take his chances, you matter just as much as everyone in the Luofu.

• On a lighter note, you might be the main reason why Yanqing is so spoiled. He doesn’t need any more swords, beloved. Though he finds himself unable to voice his opinion when both you and his trainee are giving him such sweet, begging eyes. Oh fine, he’ll let it slide this one millionth time. With Jing yuan, his love isn’t exactly too intense; it’s filled with a quiet certainty. When he thinks about forever, he thinks of you.

“I hold little interest in a legacy throughout generations. In you, however… I see an attainable future many dream of. I hope you will continue to stay by my side no matter what stands in the way of that.”

·༻𐫱༺·

[nyxessence]

۶۟ৎ diluc x gn!reader. implied younger diluc (or reader has picked up the young master habit from adelinde). they are working the fields together. classic summer setup from heat. just tension and kissing. idk. focusing on sensation. unestablished relationship!!! he yearns. like 800 words.

Diluc’s chest pressing against you from behind is almost as hot as the summer—a swelter so intense that the air shimmers with heat, and humidity from the morning storm makes it hard to breathe in air so syrupy and thick your chest feels tight.

Or, perhaps, it’s hard to breath because of his proximity.

His hand, somehow still gloved in these conditions, rests too close on skin where your shirt had long since been rucked up to get the rare bits of breeze that graced the valley. It seems the Anemo Archon’s blessing didn’t reach the vineyard today, with the only thing on the wind the quiet chirp of waking cicadas. Gently, slowly, as though you might not notice, his thumb drags along the skin and wipes away a bead of sweat—it makes you shiver, the roughness of leather on slick skin and the way his breath catches when your foot slips.

“You okay?”

It takes a second to form thoughts in order to respond. “Yeah. Bring the basket higher?”

He obliges, barely reacting when sunsettias and apples thunk haphazardly onto the wicker and dips lower from the weight. “That everything?”

“It’s anything good enough to eat, yeah.”

Diluc shifts you backwards and down, breathing out a small ‘careful!’ when your foot slips on the bark. But he doesn’t let you go just yet, hand still gripping your waist as you turn to steady yourself with a tight grip on his forearm and rapid blinks as you realize just how closely he’s pinned himself to you. It was a necessity, a safety precaution when the ladders were too hot to carry or stand on—one that feels dangerous and makes you nervously wet your lips as his gaze meets yours. Long-lashed and sparkling with something that looks like amusement, he tilts his head and looks at the goosebumps along your arm.

“You cold?”

“How could I be?” You huff, releasing your hold on him. Diluc just smiles. “We should bring them back. For Adelinde to wash.”

“It can wait a few minutes more.” His voice hushes much lower as his hand dips more to your hips to toy with the waistband of the linen you’d put on for the first time today. “Couldn’t it?”

“That’s rather inappropriate, Young Master—”

Diluc sighs. “I’m not your master,” he reminds, finally dropping the basket to the worn soil and roots to press ever closer. Now free, his hand tips your chin to meet him—clear displeasure that your shyness, or indignance, cast your face away from him. “And we’ve done nothing inappropriate.”

“You’ve done nothing inappropriate. Yet.” You try to keep your tone sharp, even stern, in your reminder, but your voice quivers on the syllables and he’s drawn so close you smell the mix of his cologne and sweat and fruit that he’s been harvesting with you since dawn.

“Allow me to fix that, darling,” he pleads. “Let me kiss you.”

“Is that what you consider inappropriate?” Your lips part expectantly anyways, blinking up at him and hoping the heat rising to warm your cheeks looks like it’s from the sun’s kisses instead.

“No. But it would be wrong of me to ask for more just yet,” Diluc answers. “I wish to court you far better.”

He doesn’t let you process the declaration of intent, closing the gap between the two of you as soon as the sentence ends. He’s warm and rough sensation—chapped lips, leather sliding along your jaw to reach up and cup your cheek, sun-roughened skin when your hands fall to the back of his neck and pull him into you. It’s far more intoxicating than any alcohol the Dawn Winery had ever made, to have him sigh into your mouth and chase you when you try to pull back for air. Even the drag of his nose, with its hooked shape, makes you dizzy and weak in the knees.

“We shouldn’t—” you protest weakly, melting into another press of his lips where you pliantly part and reciprocate every bit of his touch. “Anyone could see us.”

“There’s nothing wrong with what we’re doing. They can see.” He sounds wrecked, forehead resting on yours when your eyes finally blink open to study him.

It takes effort to push him gently back. “We need to bring these in.”

Diluc sighs. “On one condition.”

“Hm?”

“Promise I can get a chance to do it right.”

That makes you laugh softly—the sudden nerves and almost boyish shyness to him as he regards the small rejection (though it was one of circumstance more than disinterest). “I’ll allow it.”

۶۟ৎ nyx's notes: unedited bullshit i cannot write oh my god. also awealuc crumbs.

[ayioumz]

zhongli didn't like the scent of dandelion wine on you, he prefers you smell like home. ⋆ MASTERLIST ˎˊ˗

Zhongli was not a clingy man. Matter of fact, he was not an obsessive man, nor was he possessive—he was always calm and composed; you could never see this man's composure crack.

…Until you came back from Mondstadt, that is.

You had just come back from visiting the Windbloom Festival in Mondstadt, and when you did, that was when he caught the whiff of the dandelion wine on you. Your hair, your sleeves, and your skin smelled like that of another nation.

He did not dislike the signature wine of Mondstadt, not at all. He had definitely shared a few drinks of dandelion wine with old friends, especially with a certain Anemo Archon who loved the wine of his own nation dearly.

He did not dislike the City of Freedom, not at all.

So what was the problem?

He had claimed mountains, defeated gods, and governed a whole nation; what could have been the problem? You see, dragons notice things differently, and above all of that, Zhongli noticed that he did not like the scent of another nation lingering on you.

So when you came back with a bunch of souvenirs from Mondstadt, including a bottle of wine and stories that you believe Zhongli would like, you noticed there was a slight frown on his lips as he looked at you, observing.

You were confused, terribly confused.

"Zhongli, is there something wrong?" You asked, tilting your head slightly as you stepped forward, arms still lifted up in anticipation of the hug that you were expecting from Zhongli. A small smile finally reached Zhongli's lips, and he moved to finally wrap his arms around you. "My apologies; it seems to me that you appear to have enjoyed Mondstadt." "I did," you replied, finally settling in his arms, though Zhongli did not reply as fast as he would usually have. "Very much, apparently."

You realized it the moment you stared at Zhongli as he helped you unpack your things. All of them had one thing in common; all of them had one scent. Everything smelled the same—dandelion wine. Before you left for Mondstadt, you smelled like silk flower or perhaps the fragrance of the glaze lilies and tea leaves from when Zhongli would brew for the both of you, but now you smell like the City of Freedom.

Dragons are notoriously territorial creatures.

And as much as Zhongli didn't want to admit it, he didn't like it on you.

"You're frowning." You narrowed your eyes towards Zhongli, and you saw him looking up, holding your gaze. "I am not, my dear," he replied. You leaned in and huffed, "Then do you hate it when I visit Mondstadt?" But then it clicked in your brain, and a small gasp left your lips. "Are you jealous I visited Mondstadt?" The silence that followed that question was magnificent, and you almost saw Zhongli pout. "Certainly not," Zhongli finally answered. "Zhongli." "My dear, I am not competing with a nation." "So you are jealous."

Without reply, Zhongli turned his head away from you and hid your clothes away as you continued to stare at him. At this point, Zhongli refuses to answer.

Which was almost the same as admission itself.

Later that evening, you found Zhongli staring outside the window as the harbor glittered and the moonlight bright above. You stepped in beside him, and Zhongli was silent for a moment before he turned his head towards you.

"... I simply find myself preferring the pieces of Liyue on your person," he said softly. You tilted your head up slightly so you could see how his amber eyes softened. The meaning was clear, simple, and undeniably warm.

Zhongli simply liked it when you smelled like the tea you both had shared that morning, like the flowers that grew near your home, like the life that both of you had built, because that meant that you had been there and he had been with you. He liked it when you smelled like Liyue.

So when the scent of wind, freedom, and wine faded from your skin and was replaced by the aroma of tea, flowers, and the distant salt sea during your walks through the harbor, Zhongli felt at ease.

Because now you smelled like home.

[mm-lurking]

Something something Mortenax Blade looking after your wounds after you show up on the Express super out of it and acting strange and barely speaking and AE crew notices it too but you escape their questioning too easily by feigning tiredness or whatever however when you see Blade on the other side of the car just standing there next to the same door you wanted to escape through and nothing slips past him because this man is observant af and he knows what it's like to be hurt and to maintain his cool throughout it so you end up getting caught by him and everything comes crashing through and all you can do is cry and groan and mumble incoherent things as you stumble and almost fall on the floor but he catches you and you try so hard to shut your mouth but the agony and pain just escapes your lips as he takes a look at the wounds and your wounds are gushing blood and your ribs are bruised and hes concerned and confused as to how did it get this bad and what the hell you were doing and it pains him to see you like this and AE crew is also confused and frantic and shocked because how on Earth does their member a) get beat up so bad and b) hide it well enough to slip past but all they can do is assist you and mostly Blade in getting you checked out and

Whew im out of breath writing this in one go lmao. Just a thought. Might do something with it later. His messages drove me crazy. Seriously what a man. I'd let a car run over me if it means I get Blade to look after me.

[ceaseless-edge]

A Twinkling Apology.

Blade and you get into a heated argument that begets no winners, only two irked lovers. Things are icy until Blade finally swallows his pride and is the first to apologise—but you’re too stubborn to listen to him yet.

“Oh, please,” you scoff, checking out your nails, “unless you can give me a star plucked from the sky, I don’t want to hear anything from you.”

It’s meant to be a figure of speech to imply that he won’t be able to apologise, at least for tonight. You’ll probably be fine in the morning to talk things out maturely.

But you forget; you’re talking to Blade.

Furnace Master Ying-motherfucking-Xing.

The entire night Blade spends tinkering away in his little workshop, much to your confusion and chagrin. What in the world is he doing? Part of you wants to demand him to come to bed, but you’re still bitter from the fight. So you simply lay in bed in silence, arms crossed and eyes gazing at the ceiling while you listen to the occasional thunk of a hammer, whirr of a drill, and hushed whoosh of fire.

You huff. Honestly, even his dedication to his craft is ticking you off right now. Who does he think he is?!

After a long while the door opens, and in steps Bladie, torso bare and slick with sweat, his crafting goggles still on.

Holding a literal star in his hands.

Ignoring your flabbergasted expression as you sit up in bed and ogle, he deadpans, rather redundantly, “I brought you the star you asked for.”

The silence is only filled by a soft vibrating hum from the small celestial ball of light, fiery-gold in its lustrous sheen. You have it in you to sputter, “What—how—huh—”

Blade immediately launches into explanation. “Obtaining the star was the simple part. Given its original temperature and size, I had to smelt it down into a more mortal-friendly miniature through rigorous rearrangement of its gaseous particles, turning them malleable enough to reshape.” He holds it up. “Now it’s safe to touch and can also be used as decoration.”

“Wh-what..?”

The man takes this as avenue to launch into an explanation about melting points, platinum and gold calibrating, and de-vaporisation, but you’re still sputtering in shock and disbelief. Everything’s going in one ear and out the other; your mind is buffering too much to process anything. And the damn star hums and flickers all the while.

“So do you…” he fidgets with the gleaming nova, shifting from one foot to the other, “forgive me now, my sweet?”

[ceaseless-edge]

Hugs.

Hugging Bladie is the best, mainly because he’s so warm. You swear his inner furnace hums softly at a soothing vibration whenever he pulls you into his arms.

It’s the perfect temperature for falling asleep. On cold nights, just crawling into his waiting arms is enough to lull you into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, coupled with the way he’d stroke your hair and press his lips to your forehead. And on days when you’re feeling down, his strong embrace and comforting caresses ground you, remind you that you will always have a safe haven in Blade.

And Blade really does love hugging you. It’s a reminder to him that you are something—someone—to cherish, and getting to hold you close is something he will never take for granted. So he does it every opportunity he can, just to feel you curl into him so willingly. He is a man broken and put together again, and here you are, a breathing symbol of the meaning of his life.

The problem is, Blade wants to hug you no matter what the weather’s like. It’s fine on moderate or cooler days; you’ll gladly melt into the hundred times per day he wraps his arms around you. But there could be sweltering heat and he’d still approach you with his arms out, expectant.

Fanning yourself, you’d shake your head and gesture about at the heat.

The way this man would then look at you like a soggy cat…he’d droop, his mouth ever so subtly curved into a pout, and he’d eye you with a look of pure disgruntlement, arms dropping to his sides like he just got told his cooking sucked.

“Oh…” You’d sigh and hug him, ignoring how you feel like you’re getting baked alive in his tightening arms. Hugging Bladie is way more important.

[romopiod]

TAKEN, APPARENTLY

SYNOPSIS. They have feelings for you!! Unfortunately for him, you're married. How does he react?

FEATURING. Childe, Lohen, Pantalone, Varka, Zhongli

WORD COUNT. 1.7k total

NOTES. I have been fantasising about this for a while. No explicit infidelity but boy, will some of these men certainly try.

Childe

This man does NOT care in the slightest. If anything, he’s excited by it.

Childe finds the whole situation entertaining in a way that's almost endearing if it weren't so utterly disrespectful. He doesn't see your wedding ring as a stop sign. For him, it makes things more interesting because now there's an added layer of complexity, an actual obstacle. And Childe has never backed down from a challenge in his life.

He’ll send you lots and lots and lots of gifts. Intricate bouquets of flowers, expensive jewellery, and little notes with cheeky messages that make your face burn. It's infuriating because he's not even subtle about it. He knows you know. You know he knows. And somehow that makes it worse, or better, depending on how you look at it. Childe is utterly shameless, so good luck reeling him back. 

When your spouse is around, Childe shifts into a different gear entirely. He becomes aggressively polite in a way that's more insulting than rudeness. He'll compliment your spouse's choice in you with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. And Childe is petty, so he’ll be extra condescending to your partner: “Wow, they must have been feeling pretty generous when they chose you, huh?” Your spouse is sitting there fuming, but what are they gonna do? Challenge a Fatui Harbinger? Lol, good luck.

Childe will touch your shoulder when passing by. He'll remember small details about you that your spouse has forgotten. He'll show up at your favorite places and act surprised to see you, like the universe just keeps throwing you together. And through it all, that infuriating smile never wavers, because Childe knows exactly what he's doing and he's having far too much fun to care about the consequences.

"Hey gorgeous, married life treating you right? Because I could do better."

Lohen

Married? That's hilarious. Lohen finds out you're married and his first reaction is genuine, unrestrained laughter. Like you've just told him the best joke he's heard in weeks. A challenge. An actual obstacle. This is the most fun he's had in ages. He doesn't see your wedding ring as a boundary; he sees it as the opening move in a game he's about to play.

He shows up everywhere after that. And there is absolutely no subtlety in it. He does not even pretend to try that he is not courting you. He'll find you during your day with that sharp grin, pull you into dangerous situations for the sheer thrill of it, and act genuinely hurt when you try to push him away. "Come on, where's your sense of adventure?" He reads people too easily to miss how conflicted you are, and that just makes it more entertaining to him. Aw, did you just blush when he pulled you close? That’s just more ammunition for him to continue.

When your spouse is around, Lohen doesn't bother with politeness. He's openly dismissive in that sharp way of his, looking at them like they're a minor obstacle. He'll call out the weaknesses in their stance, mock their choices, make it abundantly clear he thinks they're beneath him. "You picked them?" he'll say to you, gesturing at your spouse with barely concealed disdain. "That's disappointing."

He challenges your spouse to duels constantly, Actual calls to prove themselves. "Come on, show me what you've got. Or are you too scared?" There's no pretense of friendliness, just that chaotic grin and the very real threat underneath it. He wants to test them, wants to prove he's stronger, faster, better in every way. And when your spouse declines or hesitates, Lohen laughs like they've just confirmed what he already knew. That they're not worthy of you.

And if they accept? Yeah, that fight is anything but clean. Surely, you don’t mind if he hurts them only a little bit, right? They’ll recover… in a couple weeks. You can spend that time with him!

"Married to someone that dull? Lucky for you I'm around to make things interesting."

Pantalone

Your marriage is a curiosity to him, nothing more. 

Pantalone hears you're married and it barely registers as information worth filing away. He's made it abundantly clear through his entire existence that social conventions are for people who can't afford to ignore them. He has money, taste, and a level of charm that makes your marital status seem almost quaint by comparison. Why would he care about a contract that costs nothing and binds you to someone ordinary when he can offer you everything?

He pursues you methodically, the way he pursues everything worth having. Invitations arrive on expensive paper—to galas, private auctions, exclusive dinners at restaurants. He sends you jewelry that's clearly meant to be worn, flowers that bloom in impossible colors, bottles of wine older than most towns. Each gift is calculated to make you feel like you belong in his world, because in Pantalone's mind, you already do.

When you decline his invitations, he smiles like you've said something amusing. "Oh, a pity. I was so looking forward to it." He pauses, studying you with that sharp gaze. "Though I suspect you'll change your mind eventually. People usually do when they realize what they're missing."

When he meets your spouse, there's no acknowledgment of the relationship at all. He treats them like furniture. Polite enough, but utterly unremarkable. He'll talk past them, direct his attention entirely to you, and make it abundantly clear through sheer indifference that your spouse's existence is beneath consideration. He isn’t cruel, per se, but the stone cold apathy is shocking. But I mean, what else did you expect from the Regrator?

He'll invite you to exclusive events, knowing full well you're married. He'll compliment you in ways that are technically innocent but absolutely not. He'll make you feel like the most interesting person in every room while your spouse fades into background noise. And he does it all with such practiced elegance that it's hard to even be angry about it. And Pantalone doesn't acknowledge obstacles he doesn't consider obstacles.

"Darling, there's an exhibition opening tomorrow. Quite exclusive. Pity you felt obligated to refuse."

Varka

The moment he finds out you're married, Varka accepts it with genuine respect that comes from someone with actual principles. It’s to be expected of course, from the Grandmaster of the Knights. He backs off immediately—no flirting, no lingering touches, nothing that crosses a line. He means it too. His sense of responsibility is too strong to entertain anything else. You're off-limits. He respects that.

Except he's absolutely terrible at actually following through on it.

He'll catch himself mid-conversation laughing at something you said, and the laugh is too warm, too genuine, like you've just said the funniest thing he's heard in weeks. He volunteers for patrols he doesn't need to go on if he knows you'll be there. He flexes his muscles without thinking about it—lifting heavy things with one hand, rolling up his sleeves when you walk by, that casual display of strength that he tells himself has nothing to do with you being present. He's just proud of his physique. It has nothing to do with wanting you to notice. Definitely not. And yeah, so what if Varka tries to be the funniest person in the room whenever you walk in? He’s just naturally charming, that’s all.

When your spouse is around, Varka shifts into his easygoing charm. He's genuinely friendly, treats them like any other person he gets along with, makes jokes and offers drinks like there's no tension at all. But then you'll say something, and for just a moment his eyes linger on you a little too long. He'll compliment you in a way that sounds casual but carries weight underneath it. He catches himself doing it and looks away quickly, uncomfortable with his own slip-up.

You notice it every time. The way his shoulders straighten when you walk into a room. How he unconsciously positions himself so he can see you better. The split second where his mask drops and you catch something genuine underneath before he remembers himself and shifts back into friendly, easygoing Varka. He's trying so hard to be respectful, and that effort itself is what makes it obvious that he's fighting something. You see the conflict, the way he's wrestling with his own nature, and somehow that makes it worse.

It's not intentional. That's the thing about Varka—his pride in himself, his easy confidence, his strength—it all comes out around you whether he wants it to or not. He's trying to be respectful. He really is. But his nature keeps betraying him in small, unguarded moments.

"That's great, really. You picked someone solid. Still, if you ever need anything, I'm around."

Zhongli

Being the God of contracts, he accepts your marriage to be a fact set in stone. But that doesn’t necessarily mean that stone can’t be moved, is it?

Zhongli will curb his overt courting rituals, like asking you out to dinner or kissing your hand upon greeting. But his more gentleman-ly side is always evident when it comes to you. He walks you home in the evenings. And sure, he’ll keep a respectful distance but all it takes is one particularly strong gust of wind or a merchant’s cart veering too close to you for his hand to come up to your side and pull you near him. He’s so kind about it too that you aren’t sure if this is meant to be anything at all.

He invites you over for tea (alone, just with him). Zhongli knows exactly how you make your tea, the amount of sugar you like, and the type of brew he should prepare. And so what if the tea takes four hours to make? You and him are just having polite conversation. It’s not as though your spouse knows the way you take your tea either, so this is really just a way for you to relax!!

When your partner is around, Zhongli simply smiles. He’s seen many relationships in his time, and to be frank with you, he does not exactly see what is so special about your partner lol. Nevertheless, he would not cross any lines, but he is just an extra bit nicer, a tad bit more courteous, his words just a little sweeter with you when they are around. He really wants to show your partner what true devotion looks like. 

“Married? I see. Well, contracts can be renegotiated, given the right circumstances. Until then, consider me a reminder of what else might have been possible.”

Dividers by: @uzmacchiato & @cafekitsune

[medicineren]

What's it like to date Blade?

sfw blade x gn!reader headcanons

a/n: the last fic for this month before i get busy with exams!

Blade isn't the type to hold hands in public or make grand gestures, but he is always there. If you’re walking through a crowded area, he’ll subtly position himself between you and the crowd, or he’ll stand just a step behind you.

Blade loves sitting on a balcony or a high ledge with you, watching the stars or the sunset. He knows he has seen centuries of them, but seeing them through your eyes makes them feel new again. There's always a tug at the corner of lips when he sees you point at the stars, counting them or trying to name them all.

Blade learns everything about you without you saying a word. He’ll notice the exact moment your eyes grow tired or when you’re feeling cold. He won't ask "Are you okay?" instead, he’ll simply drape his heavy, dark coat over your shoulders or hand you a drink before you even realize you're thirsty.

Does Blade sleep with you? Yes, but it’s not always "cuddly" in a traditional way. He is a restless sleeper. If you are with him, he finds he can actually rest. He might not sleep deeply, but he will drift in a state of semi consciousness, lulled by the sound of your breathing or the warmth of your body near his.

Blade often sleeps with his arm draped heavily over your waist or pulls you close to his chest. He needs to feel the steady rhythm of your heartbeat to drown out any noise in his own mind. Sometimes, he won't sleep at all. He’ll lie there in the dark, watching the rise and fall of your chest.

Blade has large, calloused hands meant for gripping a sword. When he holds your hand, he is incredibly careful, as if he’s afraid he might accidentally break something as precious as you.

Blade hates almost everyone calling him nicknames, but if you call him something sweet, he won't correct you. He might huff or give a tiny, almost invisible smirk, but he secretly loves the way it sounds coming from your lips.

Blade finds a strange peace in your hair. Whether he’s brushing it for you or just letting his fingers wander through it while you talk, it’s a grounding sensation. If you’re leaning against him, he might rest his chin on the top of your head, just breathing in the scent of your hair.

If you want to talk about your day, Blade will listen attentively. He might not have much to say in response, but he remembers every tiny detail. If you mentioned a specific flower or a type of tea a week ago, he might quietly leave it near you without a word of explanation.

There is a very specific, rare expression Blade gets when he knows he’s won an argument or successfully teased you. It’s not a full grin, it’s just a slight, lopsided lift of one side of his mouth. It’s his way of saying, 'You're easy to read,' and it’s incredibly smug.

Blade knows exactly how much his presence affects you. If he notices you getting flustered, he might lean in just a little too close to your ear, or let his hand linger on your waist just a second longer than necessary. He’ll watch your reaction with a quiet, amused intensity, enjoying the fact that he can make you lose your cool.

Blade's "tsk" or his huff of breath is often a mask. If he "tsks" when you do something cute, it’s rarely because he’s annoyed, it’s because he’s trying to hide the fact that his heart just skipped a beat.

If Blade is feeling particularly soft ( which is rare and very special ), he won't just pat you. He’ll let his hand linger. He might run his fingers through your hair or use his thumb to trace the line of your jaw after he’s patted your head. It’s a slow, deliberate movement that turns a simple "good job" into a silent confession of affection.

If you fall asleep on Blade's shoulder, he will stay frozen in that exact position for as long as it takes for you to wake up. He won't move a muscle because he doesn't want to disturb your rest.

Blade likes to interlock his fingers with yours. His hands are a bit larger than yours, so your hand feels slightly swallowed by it, which makes you feel incredibly safe.

Blade can be petty, but he can't stay petty if you are physically touching him. If you lean into his space, wrap your arms around his waist, or nuzzle into his neck, his "cold" exterior will melt almost instantly. He'll try to keep the grumpy face for a few seconds, but he'll eventually sigh, wrap his arms around you, and mutter, "…You're infuriating."

[zeka-maki]

ʚɞ Take my hand, take my whole life too ʚɞ

⚘ Pairings: Yingxing/Mortenax Blade x Reader

⚘ Summery: Once upon a time, you had given your heart to the Forge Master of Zhuming. Three decades together, he had forged you thirty rings and now a blade. The love in his eyes now feel like a distant memory, yet given to you at all time by your now beloved, Blade. Be the man he once was, he can never truly give up the concept of leaving a piece of himself with you.

⚘ Tags: Mainly fluff, themes of angst, fem!Reader, long life specie!Reader, domesticity, Blade is a little touchy, gift-giving, Blade tried to be nonchalant but it didn't work

⚘ Word count: 1k

⚘ A/N: ok i can't write summary, lowk going thru a writer's block so this is all I have 💔💔 and my finals start in two days, anyways everybody go slime @biancak1m

The sound of metal clashing against itself echoes through the workshop. Each strike of the hammer molds molten iron into the weapon he envisions. Yingxing, in particular, holds a very specific design in mind.

After all, this is a blade he’s forging for his wife—crafted from a blend of leftover scraps and the expensive metals he painstakingly saved up for. The thought alone has him practically beaming as he shapes it into form.

The stars, however, remain silent. In the dead of night, no sign of life stirs—save for Yingxing himself. The relentless ringing of metal is enough to irritate anyone.

And oh, does it bother you.

“Yingxing, come to bed. It’s two in the morning,” you call out, voice thick with sleep. Aeons know what he’s thrown himself into this time—a commission? A personal project? A gift for a friend? If only he devoted himself to rest with the same fervor.

The Forge Master’s focus finally drifts from the glowing metal at the sound of your voice. There’s a glimmer in his eyes when he looks at you—hair disheveled from sleep, expression pinched with irritation, clearly dragged from yet another failed attempt at rest. You lean against the workshop doorway like you belong there.

Perhaps you do. Anything he owns is yours.

He flashes you a grin—one you know well, one that hides more than it reveals. “Thirty more minutes. This one isn’t finished yet,” he says, words punctuated by the steady rhythm of his hammer.

A sigh slips past your lips, resignation settling in. You already know how the next thirty minutes will go—spent by the fireplace, waiting for him to return.

Retreating to the living room, you settle by the fire, watching it crackle as it slowly devours the wood. At some point, without realizing it, sleep claims you.

Until a hand brushes your cheek.

A quiet murmur of your name follows.

It doesn’t take long to recognize the voice—you’ve been married to this man for over thirty years. You know him in every form.

“Lovely, look what I’ve made for you.”

Your eyes flutter open, vision still hazy. The sight before you is familiar—Yingxing kneeling before you, gazing up with quiet anticipation, waiting for you to ask about his latest creation.

Your mind barely processes his words, but you recognize that look. You’ve seen it countless times. Before you can respond, something heavy settles onto your lap.

A blade.

Forged from the remains of Glamoth’s Empress, mixed with fragments of her Iron Cavalry. Its intricate designs weave together like a story—thirty years of memories etched into steel.

Your fingers trace the surface as though it were something fragile. The blade itself may not be delicate, but the intention behind it certainly is.

And the way he looks at you—hopeful, expectant, yearning for even the smallest praise—says everything.

What a lovesick man Yingxing is.

For someone driven by vengeance, his heart beats for something far softer.

A gentle smile graces your lips as you lean forward, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“It’s beautiful, my darling.” Your praise makes his heart stutter—you’re certain of it.

The grin that spreads across his face is full of pride, bordering on arrogance—not just in the blade, but in the fact that he’s made you happy.

You watch as his hand slips into the pocket of his tailcoat.

“I have something else for you,” he says, pulling something out—only to immediately hide it in his fist.

Like a familiar ritual, the motion repeats itself. His calloused hand takes yours, gently placing the object into your palm.

A ring.

Gold, with a delicately carved crane. Your heart aches at the sight.

Another one.

“Another?” you ask softly, the question echoing through thirty anniversaries—thirty rings he’s forged just for you.

None of them fit. But that was never the point. Each one is proof. Tangible, unwavering proof of your love.

“Another one,” he echoes, arms slipping around your waist. “And another next year. I’ll keep forging them until the very end—so we’ll never forget the years we shared.”

His words are muffled against your clothes, but they carry the same warmth they always have. Three decades, and not once has that love wavered.

The end of you… may only be the end of him.

You will live on—long enough to watch empires rise and fall, to witness the Borisin meet their end someday.

But his life, his fleeting eternity, all you can hope for is to spend it beside him.

Yingxing loves you.

Truly.

And he will love you until the very end.

A soft gasp escapes you before you fully awaken, eyes fluttering open to meet the pale gauze surrounding you. You shift slightly, pulling away from the fabric.

“Are you feeling alright?” The deep, slightly raspy voice is unmistakable.

After all, the man beside you is your beloved—Blade.

You hum softly, trying to steady yourself. There’s no reason to feel this way—not over a memory like that.

And yet… Something unfamiliar lingers in your chest.

“I had a sweet dream about you…” you murmur, almost hoping he doesn’t catch it.

But he does. You know it by the way his hand finds yours.

Ever since Blade accepted Shuhu’s curse and turned his focus toward destroying the Abomination, his body has changed—healing, stabilizing. Especially his hands.

And with that, you’ve gained something unexpected. A Blade who reaches for you. Whether in public or private, his hand is always in yours now.

“A ‘sweet’ dream about me is enough to upset you?” he asks. There’s no irritation in his tone—only concern.

For someone named Blade, he is unbearably gentle with you. And the thought that he might be the cause of your distress unsettles him more than anything.

A soft laugh escapes you as his free hand idly plays with your hair. “It was bittersweet,” you reply, shifting closer before burying your face against his chest.

He huffs quietly, unconvinced, sensing the lingering weight in your voice. Another memory? He doesn’t know. So instead, he pulls you closer—tightens his hold, presses a quiet kiss to the crown of your head, mirroring what you once did for him when the Mara consumed him.

“Go back to sleep. We have things to do tomorrow,” he murmurs, masking his intentions beneath casual words.

“…Silverwolf wants us to play with her.” The hesitation gives him away. Because that’s not what matters, these events have been reoccurring for days now.

Your anniversary is only hours away. And you know he has something prepared—something he cannot put into words, but will try to forge into existence all the same.

Because he will love you for eternity. Whether as Yingxing or Blade, that cursed heart still carries something untainted, something pure at all its forms— and that is you.

[ceaseless-edge]

Intimate Contact.

Blade loves the feel of you. In any sense. Just small reassurances that you’re here with him, a tangible companion, someone who’ll stay with him and won’t disappear the moment he offers himself the chance to feel a tad too happy.

If not an arm draped over your shoulder while you two take a walk together, then a hand curled round your waist or simply holding your own hand, gentle squeezes punctuating every few moments while you tell him about your day.

And when you’re showing him something on your phone, Blade’s shoulder presses against yours as he hunches over to take a look. Even if you shift away, his body trails after you like a flower to the sun, that bit of contact almost mandatory if you want to get him to pay attention to the meme you’re showing him.

Some gentle pats to your head; should he feel like it, he might ruffle your hair as well (and no, it doesn’t matter if you protest—your good hair days aren’t safe from him). And then his hand would slowly travel down, caressing your cheek, thumb rubbing circles against your skin. Maybe a playful pinch if he’s feeling like it, because your reactions are too adorable to resist.

When he’s driving, he likes to simply splay his hand on your thigh, the touch sending shockwaves of warmth through you and perhaps a soft gasp—but the man remains oblivious to the effect his long, slender fingers have on you, eyes fixed firmly on the road and expression betraying nothing.

Yes, even if his hand slowly but surely travels further up your thigh, centimetre by centimetre, the pads of his fingers digging into your flesh ever so slightly…Blade will still say nothing.

[medicineren]

Nsfw alphabet headcanons

Summary: Nsfw alphabet headcanons with Blade!

a/n: reupload because I accidentally deleted it and my internet went out...I'm still getting used to tumblr

A = Aftercare (What they're like after sex)

He isn't the type to jump up and get dressed. After the intensity fades, he becomes incredibly still. He craves skin to skin contact not necessarily for cuddling, but for the grounding sensation of your heartbeat against his.

He might lay there in a heavy, contemplative silence, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he processes the fact that, for a few moments, he’d pull you into his chest, holding you with a grip that is firm and protective.

He’d silently clean you up with a damp cloth, his movements efficient but unexpectedly tender, as if he is handling something precious and fragile.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Blade's favourite body part of him is his hands. They are the tools of his existence calloused, scarred, and strong. In intimacy, he is hyper aware of them, using them to feel the texture of his partner. He likes his fingers as well. He won’t admit the fact that you always looked cute when you sucked on fingers. He likes using his fingers on you.

Blade’s favourite body part of you is everything but he does prefer your neck and thighs more, specifically, the pulse point on your neck. He is fascinated by the fragility of life. Seeing a pulse thrumming under the skin reminds him that you are alive, a stark contrast to his own stagnant immortality. He likes watching your throat move as you breathe heavily or gasp.

He likes leaving bite marks all over your body, especially on your thighs. The soft feeling of your skin on his hands gets him off.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

He finds a grim, intense pleasure in the sight of it. There is something about the visual of the white, messiness of it whether it’s smeared across your skin or pooling out of you, he finds it incredibly satisfying to look at. He finds a dark pleasure in simply watching the mess it leaves behind.

D = Dirty Secret (A dirty secret of theirs)

His most guarded desire is the craving to be undone by you. He secretly yearns to surrender his agency to your hands. He doesn't care if you are rough and demanding, pinning him down and taking what you want with force, or if you are gentle and slow, treating him with a tenderness that makes him ache.

The secret isn't the intensity itself, it's the fact that he wants you to be the one deciding how he feels. He wants to be your plaything, pushed to his limits and left completely at your command.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Blade is surprisingly experienced. He has a natural, seasoned instinct for how to move and how to handle a partner due to muscle memory as Yingxing.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying)

He is incredibly selfless in this regard. He finds peace in your pleasure, so he is happy to take whatever position you prefer, as long as he can feel the weight of you. However, his personal preference is being pinned down by you. He loves the feeling of your hands pinning his wrists or your body pressing him into the bed, forcing him to yield to your will.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Almost non-existent. Blade is not a funny lover. He is serious, brooding, and intensely focused. There might be a rare, low, raspy chuckle if you do something particularly unexpected or if you manage to actually make him lose his composure.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He keeps it trimmed and tidy for you. It isn't completely gone, but he keeps the hair there short and well maintained, so it’s a neat, small bush that doesn't get in the way.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Surprisingly, he is a secret romantic who expresses it through physical closeness rather than words. He uses intimacy to find a rare sense of peace, seeking your warmth to quiet the noise in his head. His cold exterior softens, pressing his body against yours to feel as close as possible. He approaches you with a quiet, hungry desperation, as if he's trying to soak up every bit of your presence before it disappears.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does it infrequently and purely for release. It is rarely about pleasure and more about the venting of tension or the management of physical urges. He often does it in solitude, staring at nothing, using the sensation to briefly drown out the voices of his past. Sometimes he does it whenever he feels restless, thinking of you and you're not near him.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He is drawn to sensations that force him to focus on the present moment. This includes power dynamics where he can surrender control, such as being pinned down or commanded.

He has a high tolerance for intensity, enjoying breathplay, choking. He also has a taste for semi public settings while he hates the performative nature of PDA, he finds the thrill of a dark alleyway or a secluded corner incredible. The risk of being caught ( which will never happen ) adds a layer of adrenaline that makes the experience feel more visceral.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the deed)

He dislikes loud, bright, or social places. His favorite locations are anywhere private, dim, and quiet. A dark corner of a room, a quiet, shadowed chamber, a dark alleyway or anywhere where the noise of the world is muffled. He needs the environment to match his internal state: hushed, heavy, and isolated from the rest of the world.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

He doesn't have a list of things that get him going. However, his primary motivation is teasing. He is incredibly susceptible to a partner who knows how to play with his composure. Whether it is a lingering gaze, a slow, deliberate touch in a place that shouldn't be touched, or whispered words that challenge his stoicism, he is easily driven to arousal when you make him wait for it.

He thrives on the tension of being teased, the more you push his boundaries and play with his patience, the more intense his eventual surrender becomes. He finds himself becoming increasingly aroused not just by the physical sensation, but by the sheer frustration of trying to remain stoic while you intentionally unravel him. He wants to be pushed, he wants you to provoke that hunger in him until his composure finally snaps.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He has a strict boundary when it comes to you. He will never be the source of your pain. He is willing to explore almost any sensation or dynamic, but he will never intentionally hurt you. This also extends to his preference for privacy.

He has no interest in the performative nature of PDA or the vulnerability of being seen by others. While he might find the thrill of a dark, secluded alleyway intoxicating, he wants his intimacy to remain a private, sacred thing shared only between the two of you. He needs to know that when he lets his guard down and shows you his true, unraveled self, no one else is watching.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He is surprisingly skilled. He likes both giving and receiving but he prefers giving. There is something about the act of worshiping a partner focusing entirely on their pleasure and the way their body reacts that allows him to quiet the Mara. It is a selfless, meditative act for him. He is patient, thorough, and uses his hands as much as his mouth, treating it with the same intensity he treats a duel.

When he is receiving, the dynamic shifts from service to total surrender. He becomes quiet and still, his eyes fixed on you as he allows you to take control. He finds a deep, grounding satisfaction in the sensation of your warmth and the rhythmic, intense pressure of your mouth. He tries to maintain his composure, but the pleasure is often too much to keep silent, he will let out small, accidental whimpers low, broken sounds that betray just how much you are affecting him and how much he is enjoying the feeling of being undone.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual?)

He starts with a slow, agonizingly measured tempo. He takes his time with every thrust, pausing frequently to prolong the tension and let the sensation of fullness sink in. It is a form of sweet torture, meant to drive you to the brink of madness through sheer slowness.

Once he feels you yield and your body relaxes around him, the pace shifts entirely. It’s a seamless escalation the gentle, lingering touches gradually sharpen into a faster, more intense drive that stays careful and precise, increasing the heat without ever crossing into being truly painful.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

He doesn't crave them, but he will never turn one down. If there is a moment of intense tension or a brief window of privacy, he will take it. For him, a quickie isn't about being rushed, it's about the sudden, sharp necessity of needing you immediately. But he does prefer proper sex over quickies.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He isn't one for silly risks or experimental gimmicks, but he is game for psychological risks. He will experiment with power dynamics letting you take control, letting you bind him, letting you test his limits, or letting you dictate the terms because the risk of losing himself in you is the only thing that makes him feel truly alive. He's content to experiment with anything as long as it doesn't hurt you physically and mentally.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

His endurance is practically limitless due to his immortal body; he can keep going long after a normal man would have collapsed. He is relentless, capable of driving you through multiple rounds until you are completely overstimulated, breathless, and whining for him to stop or slow down.

However, he isn't a machine. After several rounds, he can get a bit sloppy, become more uninhibited and messy as fatigue finally begins to catch up with his mind, even if his body refuses to quit.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own any, however, he is not a hater. If you bring a toy into the bedroom, he will accept it with a quiet, curious gaze. He views them as tools and as a man who has spent his life mastering the blade, he understands the utility of a well made tool. If a toy helps you reach a higher peak, or if it helps him achieve that sense of sensory overload he craves, he will use it with the same intense, focused precision he applies to everything else. He is a willing participant in whatever helps the moment feel more real.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be incredibly unfair with his teasing, using his control and patience to drive you to the brink of madness. He knows exactly how to linger, how to pull away just when you need him most, and how to use his hands or mouth to keep you in a state of constant, aching anticipation. He finds a dark sort of satisfaction in watching you unravel under his deliberate, slow movements.

However, he is just as susceptible to it. He secretly loves it when you tease him back. He is highly responsive to being teased whether it's through light touches or verbal provocations and he finds it incredibly grounding when you take the lead and push his boundaries, forcing him to struggle to keep his composure.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He is primarily quiet and controlled. His most common sounds are heavy, rhythmic breathing and grunts that vibrate in his chest during moments of thrusting or pleasure. His composure cracks only when the sensation becomes overwhelming. In those moments, he will let out small, accidental whimpers soft, broken, and involuntary sounds that betray how much he has lost control.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He has a strange, quiet fascination with scent. He might bury his face in the crook of your neck or your hair just to inhale the scent of your skin. If you use a signature perfume or scent, he will try to figure out what perfume or scent you used by smelling the subtle ingredients used in the perfume or scent.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

He has a relatively low sex drive, as his mind is often consumed by his own internal battles. Sex is not a constant, restless need for him.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He is rarely a deep sleeper. His mind is often too restless to allow for true slumber. He spends most of his time in a state of watchful, quiet wakefulness.

But after the heat of intimacy, he allows himself a rare moment of surrender. He won't necessarily fall into a heavy sleep, but he will settle into a soft, peaceful rest beside you.

[kaivenom]

Varka's favourite places to kiss you

Warnings: Varka being a lovesick puppy every time you are close to him

Masterlist

The grand master of Favonius loves his beautiful partner and when he is not on crazy missions along Teyvat, he takes every possible oportunity to kiss you and make you see how much he loves you.

Everyone in Mondstadt knows by now not to interrumpt into Varka's office when the door is closed, there have been many incidents of people coming in and catching you both in a passionate moment.

But that is really rare cause he hates being on the office and prefers other places.

Of course, your shared quarters are always his first option cause you both have privacy, comfort and room enough to be together... and mostly he could cuddle you and be affectionate (he is scared people find out about him being lovely but everyone knows that he is like a lost puppy).

He also spends a lot of time on the tavern, and he loves when you accompany him, but he can't kiss you as much as he wants... even though when he is really drunk he clumsily tries while you take him home (he is huge so you have a hard time doing that).

He always tries to steal kisses from you in between breaks, practices, paperwork, he always finds an excuse to go to you with a big smile and press your lips together.

Cause kisses with Varka are not always kisses, they always end up with something more, passsional even. He kisses and hugs, slams, undress any or all, even if it's just crush you under his weight like he was a blanket.

On special occasions, when there is a celebration on the city, he likes to sit you both on Barbatos statue's hand and sits you on his lap, away from the public's eyes or you both lay cuddling while watching fireworks.

But the most important kisses for Varka is when he goes on a mission or comes back from it and you are waiting for him on the doors of the city.

When he goes, his kisses are deep and longing, having trouble to separate himself and most of times being the last one to leave cause of it. He kisses you with all his body, like always, but this time he is sad and desperate, like he is trying to fill a battery of love for the journey.

And when he comes back, he dismounts so fast that you know you don't have time to even blink before his lips meet yours and you know nothing is going to separate him from you in the next half an hour.

At the end, it doesn't really matter where Varka kisses you, cause he is always ready for it and he won't let the oportunity pass.