Ass, tits or thighs? (Ft nod krai cast) (Typical warnings of NSFW, fem!reader, mentions of a lactation kink in Albedo's, possible OOC for all of them. Fight me all you want in the comments if you want. English is not my first language)
(this plot is so overused. Does that mean I care? No, I'll do whatever I want so just enjoy my analysis or whatever)
Varka: Ass
He'd be super embarrassed about this question and probably blurt out "personality" or something like that. A knight shouldn't be so improper with his lover! But sometimes you see him staring a little too long on your behind for it to be a "friendly" look when you bend over to pick something up. If he's ever holding you close to him, his hands are always on the hips or waist, just close enough to your ass but never doing anything until you ask. Basically cock blocking himself lmao
Flins: Thighs
Also the type to say "personality" but more of an endearing way than anything else. Probably be like "you are so enchanting, how could I pick just one?" So he says personality instead. Though, he's never one to complain if he gets a nice shot of your thighs, doesn't care if they're small or big. He seems like the type of guy to enjoy giving oral, so having your thighs around his head is probably a fantasy of his.
Nefer: tits
Not ashamed of her answer, and it was quite obvious. She doesn't care about your body type either. If you're flat, she likes pinching and playing with your nipples from underneath your shirt, perhaps dragging her fingers along your areola. If you're well endowed she prefers to squish your tits between her fingers to relieve stress. One thing's for certain, with those claws on her fingers your skin will hurt and look red. Good thing she has her mouth to help.
Lauma: tits
Unlike Nefer, she prefers to admire your body from afar more than anything, and she is most importantly not crude. She likes laying her head on your chest regardless if your tits are big or not. If you're ever sore she likes massaging them within her fingers, but she'll never go past your boundaries. Though, if you ask her to take a step further she wouldn't mind, after all she does have a few fantasies and needs of her own.
Nicole: thighs
If you ever asked her this question, she'd at first go on a tangent about how human evolution evolved and why we find such body parts appealing despite them being storehouses of fat for the most part. If you ask her to give a straight answer she'd say thighs. She likes it when you wear shorts, maybe when you sit down and they seem to look bigger. Regardless of their size she likes to lay her head down there and stare up at you whilst yapping about another topic. If she feels cheeky she might bite.
Alice: ass
Practically has an obsession with slapping your ass, with how red it gets from her fondling sometimes. Especially likes it if you wear a tight dress or shorts, she just loveees admiring your figure. She may be busy but that won't exactly stop her from meeting you often enough to eye-fuck you. If you have a tattoo on your lower back best believe she's kissing that senseless. Other than that, she prefers to bend you over with her strap and take you from behind.
Arlecchino: thighs
You're often the one straddling her waist while she does her paperwork, and her hands always find themselves digging into your thighs. She'll stop if it hurts, but gods does she love looking at your legs when they're properly marked by her fingers. If she's eating you out expect plenty of teeth marks around your inner thigh. When she's holding you by your waist, she finds her fingers drawing circles on your hip, to outer thigh. Also likes the feeling of control when her hands spread your thighs open.
Columbina: tits
She takes a long time to think about it, especially since she likes all parts of you and never bothered to think about these sexual questions. She eventually says tits because they're the closest to your heart. She spends the time with you mostly listening to your heartbeat, so she finds it fair to prefer your tits. If anything else, you'll sometimes find her either squeezing or pinching your nipples since she's interested on your reactions and how they feel in her palm.
Illuga: tits
He'll freak out at first if you ever ask and refuse to answer. Though, he stares at your chest a lot more than what is necessary. If you have a gap between your tits, he likes fixating on that for whatever reason, especially when he can see that gap from your top. If you don't have a gap, that's fine too because he'll still be staring at how much space your breasts take. If you allow him to touch he'd probably do it once before chickening out. If you offer a titjob he's practically jello in your arms.
Sandrone: no preference
It's either she doesn't care or she cares for all parts of you equally. There's no real problem for her anyway, she takes what's most convenient. If you're cuddling with her her hands will rest on your tits. If you're standing beside her (with no one around) she'll place a hand on her ass. She likes observing how your thighs enlarge when you sit. You can please her with almost anything.
Dottore: different per segment.
Webtorre likes your tits, Omega your ass and prime your thighs. Though, if you attempt to seduce the different versions of him with any one, it will work. Webtorre will be the more eager of the three to grab a hold of your tits. Omega usually just takes whatever chance he gets and places a hand on your ass whenever he gets the opportunity of your bending over. Prime prefers it when you're cockwarming him and your thighs wrap around his waist. He gets hard just from the feeling of your thighs.
Wanderer: no preference
Also another one that doesn't care. If he's carrying you while he's flying, his hand will subtly palm your thighs. Time to time he listens to your heartbeat, so the cushioning on your chest is appreciated. If you don't have any, that's fine too. His hands are (for the most part) on your ass when you're walking together with no one around. He's not overtly dirty too, if you don't like it then he'll immediately stop.
Albedo: tits
I know that for most of the characters you've seen me saying tits but it's more true for him than ever. He feels like the type of guy to have a lactation kink to be honest. Like, he'd research it for normal purposes and be completely normal about it but it will eventually grow on him. If you're ever pregnant with his kid he will suck your tits at least once for a taste. He's very gentle otherwise, compared to a certain Nefer.
Summary: In which someone makes a bet that they wouldn't catch you if you ran towards them at full speed while their hands are full. So, you decided to test it out.
Characters: Illuga, Lohen, Xiao, Kinich
Illuga
Absolutely, 100%
Would drop everything in his hands just to catch you even if he was holding something precious or fragile. The only time he wouldn't catch you would be if he was holding something sharp or dangerous, anything that could potentially harm you if he accidentally dropped you.
“!? W-Wait! I'm still holding onto Sir Flins’ supplies!! If you fall—”
Despite his increasingly panicked attempts at persuasion, his body moved quicker than his mind. In less than a second, his hands had already dropped everything onto the floor and his feet were planted firmly into the ground, arms spread widely to catch you just in the nick of time
Uses his entire body to cushion the impact and slow you down, making sure that even if the two of you were to fall, he would be the one hitting the ground first. Luckily, his feet were planted firmly enough into the ground that none of you ended up tumbling onto the ground, with yourself landing safely into his arms.
After double (maybe triple) checking that you weren't hurt, he proceeds to chew your ear off for the next hour or so, reprimanding you for your reckless and irresponsible actions. That was far too dangerous! What if he slipped before he could catch you!?
“Don't ever do something so reckless again. If you do, don't expect me to catch you again (｀ヘ´)”
He absolutely would. But he would also prefer if you were to greet him normally next time instead of giving him a heart attack
… At least the feeling of carrying you in his arms more than makes up for it
(More below the cut)
Lohen
“Oh?”
He watched as you hurled yourself towards his direction, intrigue and a hint of puzzlement sketched onto his face
Depending on the time of day, there's a 50% chance Lohen would open his arms and catch you so that the two of you would fall together, as well as another 50% chance that he'll wait right up until the moment you're almost in front of him, step aside and then catch you just as you were about to fall face first into the ground. What can he say? An eye for an eye, a surprise for a surprise.
Honestly, he finds your trust in him rather endearing. Even though you know that he has a million tricks up his sleeves, you still chose to run towards him at full speed with your arms wide open, not caring if he was in the mood to catch you or not. It made his heart sing with pride, knowing that you had such blind trust in him.
Fortunately for you, he decided to play nice today and catch you immediately. The moment he tosses everything away and your body hits his, one of his hands curls around the back of your head while his other arm slyly snakes around your waist, keeping you pressed as closely to him as possible even when his back hits the gravel below.
“Too bad. Such tricks just aren’t enough to catch me off guard, darling.”
He doesn't try to fight back the wolfish grin surfacing on his face, nor say a word back when you start complaining. Only when you start trying to lift yourself off of him does he make his move. In the blink of an eye, he rolls over and pins you down into the same patch of gravel he was once lying on top, trailing his hand slowly from the back of your head down the back of your neck, all the way to your collarbones.
“Next time, don't announce yourself before you start running— not like that would stop me from sensing your presence beforehand anyways~”
Xiao
“Absolutely, 100%” the sequel
Wouldn't even think before dropping everything to catch up to you. He would even take a few steps forward to lessen the amount of time it would take for you to reach him before patiently waiting for your arrival with his arms wide open, counting down the seconds until you found your way home
Just like the first time he caught you back at the Jade Chamber, his arms are firmly wrapped around yours. Only this time, instead of them being over your shoulders, they are pressed closely yet warmly against your back, gently pushing you to fall deeper into his arms until your head hits his chest
“Did you need me?”
He asks in a calm, steady voice, thinking that any matter that required you to run to his side with such urgency without calling his name was one of utmost importance. If you had called, he would've undoubtedly reached your side in a moment's notice, perhaps even before his name had fully even left your lips. Too quickly? Nonsense. In his eyes, that was the least he should do.
When you told him that you simply wanted to see if he would drop everything just to catch you, he would blink in surprise before letting out a scoff so soft that it couldn't be called anything but fondness.
“If you think our bond was that weak, you needn't test me. I wouldn’t have appeared before you if you didn't mean anything to me.”
After a flicker of hesitation passed his face, he lowered his face and awkwardly nuzzled his forehead against yours, suppressing the urge to look away in order to whisper against your lips.
“... Since you're here now, can you stay a little longer? There’s a plate of almond tofu here that I would like you to try… Who made it?... I… cannot say.”
Kinich
“Ajaw”
“???”
“Catch”
“！？！？ KINICH YOU @%£@%@£@%£@@%@%£@££@%@%%@£@”
Tosses everything to Ajaw and forces him to catch it all before opening his arms as wide as possible, readily bracing for your impact
Honestly, if he had more time to prepare, he would’ve preferred putting everything aside to make better preparations on how to catch you. However, since the things he was holding onto were needn't to complete a commission, he had no choice but to rely his closest companion (which unfortunately had to be Ajaw) and improvise on the spot
Luckily, all that time he spent carrying you around his house before had taught him all he needed to know. Before you had even reached him, he took a few steps forward and waited for you to skid to a stop. Once you did, he ceremoniously placed one arm behind your knee, one arm behind your back and BAM— a princess carry.
“... Should I ask?”
He raises a questioning brow, waiting for you to speak. Once you finish your explanation, he simply sighs before pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head, looking down at you with a mix of exasperation and affection.
“The price for scaring me doesn't come cheap. I hope you're ready to pay for that stunt you just pulled tonight.”
Character(s): (in this order –>) Flins, Lohen, Durin, Layla Albedo, Kazuha, Wanderer, Scaramouche, Kabukimono, Chiori, Heizou, Illuga, Freminet, Shenhe, Mavuika.
Warning(s): Segguestive, Praise, Orgasm Denial, Lohen's existence in itself is a warning, Dacryphilia, That's all I hope.
"She puts lingerie on you and uses the fabric shears to pin you to the bed so you can't escape her." <– I am here to say that I shamelessly stole that line word by word from my dear mootie @yurunivo
Flins:
Yes.
Would love to see you try.
I just know he has that "gentlemanly" shit smile on his face the ENTIRE time.
He is ultimately unaffected (Because let's be fair. He is a FREAKING lantern fire thing dawg what do you expect)
Thinks it's so so cute that you are trying<3
Would take such great care of you after, though. Isn't he just so thoughtful<3 (Lil shit)
Despite all the playfull teasing he, is very gentle when it's his turn to take care of you<3
Turns out he can take things seriously when needed— your pleasure is always priority to him.
Can and will "offhandedly" comment on your pathetic performance after everything is said and done (Fucker)
He gets on your nerves so freaking much ughh.
Enjoys your reactions a bit too much. Freaking ragebaiter.
He's such an annoying tease I wanna put his neck on a leash and bend him over—
Lohen:
HECK YEAH
Let's be fr rn. This masochistic psychicopath twink is into being put in his place.
He desperately wants to be stepped on.
Metaphorically and physically.
Be rough. Be mean. Be merciless. Give him colorful bruises. He adores it when you are unforgiving.
Would look at you with literally hearts in those dead dead eyes of his if you cause painful injuries<33
They don't have to be necessarily dangerous. Just something that gets his blood hot and running<3 (But then again, as long as he got a good fight out of it, he won't mind bleeding to his death by your hands<3 or taking his last breath in your arms knowing that you were the one to steal it from him—).
Sorry this is so unromantic and way too freaky BUT THIS MAN CANNOT BE NORMAL ABOUT IT.
You cannot convince me that he doesn't get off to getting beaten to a pulp by his partner.
This twink is getting destroyed, alright.
Literally.
Durin:
YES
Just look me in the eye and tell me he is not a switch.
You can't. Because he is one.
He gets SO subby whenever he bottoms for whatever reason though... always becoming such a drooling sobbing mess... eager to please like the obedient little thing he is.
It's just that you make him feel so so good he just can't help himself but be messy with it :(
He is usually more of the growly type, but take advantage of his sensitive parts and you'll get him to make the sweetest whines for you<33
Just make sure that he feels loved and cared for, and you'll be rewarded with unshakable his eternal devotion<3
Sorry he is just so cutehzgvjhdshjdg my sweet baby I want all the good things for him<3
Layla:
PLSPLSPLS
Do you really think she even has the energy to top?
No. The right answer is no.
I think she's generally very quiet, but she makes up for it by how easily flustered she is<3
Can barely handle much in her natural habitat (bottoming), so please don't try to make her top :(
She is so overwhelmed and too flustered by everything that is happening.
Will still do her best despite everything, because she is just that sweet<3
Until she realizes that she may have bitten more than she can chew.
Starts begging you to please please please switch over she really can't do this.
She is just so mhmdhlklf<3 I think she deserves a reward for being so good to you<33
I love her sm omg is this too obvious.
Albedo:
Yes.
Agrees way too fast when you ask, actually.
Not necessarily because he is a bottom but I think he loves expirementing— Also kinda saw it coming. It just so happens that you asked earlier than he anticipated you would.
I like to believe that the star mark on his neck is sensitive, so show it some love, would you<3
Not gonna lie, I think he'll be so into it.
Like he'll realize how much more reactive he is when you are topping and start asking you to top more often (For science!)
Prolly asks you to write your observations down for him to check on later (💀)
Come on he obviously can't do it himself with the state you leave him in (HECK YEAH DESTROY THAT TWINK—)
Anyways it is time to bring out the smut writer in you.
Sorry if this is ooc he's such a pretty princess in my head I want to bbg him so bad (😖)
— but I also wanna ruin him and that smart mouth of his untill he can't spew any scientific nonsense at me anymore<3
Kazuha:
No.
Just hear me out on this one.
The service dom in him cannot, in any way, let the love of his life do all the work when he is right there.
Unlike a lot of people in this list, however, he is just human, so you can always fight him for that position...
Gets caught so off guard when you manage to flip him down and start toying with him.
(Thinks it's kinda hot—)
Find that sensitive spot and suddenly, his words are not as flowery nor as eloquent anymore<3
Just make sure it stays that way for as long as possible, would you<3
Especially since he will always be on guard from now on, you'll have to be more clever with your tactics if you want him writhing under you<3
Wanderer:
Yes (HEAR ME OUT I HAVE CONVINCING ARGUMENTS TRUST)
Here's the thing. Sex for Wanderer is unnecessary; he doesn't need it and doesn't crave it. However, he will help his partner out if they want it.
I think it is a very intimate affair to him. As far as he understands it; it is a process of stripping himself bare of everything he ever used to hide in and serving what remains of his wretched soul to you on a silver platter for you to judge and see.
And he can't just do that with anyone now, can he?
It's kind of an all-in deal to him. If you are going to do this, then he won't do it unless he feels safe enough around you to trust you with EVERYTHING.
Would genuinely cry if you treat his body with care, ignoring all his encouragement to go all out and his "I can handle it" talk in favor of treating him like the precious thing he thinks he's not.
He is shaking the entire time, feeling so vulnerable and so so loved.
I love him so much sorry if the special boy treatment is showing.
Scaramouche:
Absolutely NOT.
He can take care of you just fine— in fact, I think he is so much more gentler with his beloved than one would assume him to be.
He's just... not ready to be as vulnerable yet. He wants to, he really does, but the thought of actually doing that makes his synthetic skin crawl.
He's also seen firsthand how fragile humans can be, and he's way too paranoid to let you do any physically exerting tasks on his watch. Especially if you were a non-combatant.
I think your only chance at catching him at his most vulnerable would be after an agonizingly long expedition in the Abyss. Where time flows much faster and days turn into weeks and weeks into months.
He's ways extremely clingy (more than he already is, anyways) after such ventures and weirdly pliant to all sorts of requests that he would've otherwise instantly dismissed.
Fights it at first. Then, let's it happen. You just need to use the right words (and actions)
And suddenly he just looks so soft and so gentle and so so unlike himself ughh.
You could almost see the Kabukimono in him, if not for the fact that he keeps hiding his face
Probably cries. Definitely cries. Soft Scara the things I'll do for you—
God he makes me sick (/affec)
Do not even DARE mentioning it to him later, though. Whatever happens in those moments STAYS in those moments.
Please for his sake just... Don't.
(He's growing on me and I HATE IT)
Kabukimono:
YES
VERY eager to please. Can take whatever position you want him to!
Just... make sure to show how him how first.
Extremely vocal; moaning, begging, gasping. Will cling to you desperately while doing it all.
Doesn't know how much it affects you, but archon knows it does and it affects you bad.
No wonder he always ends up being such a pretty mess after<3
Definitely insists on returning the favor at some point. He is such a sweetheart<3
A fast learner, would use all the techniques you used on him before and carefully watch how much you are affected by them.
Takes your noises as approval. Whenever he is being loud it means he likes it. Surely it is the same for you, right<3
Despite that, he is still a bit unsure sometimes
He is being such a sweet thing to you. Please assure him that he is doing good :(
Just the fact that he can see you getting physically affected by him is enough, really! But a bit of praise can go a long way with him<3
Just think of it as motivation! The same way his vocal nature encourages you to ruin him<3
Chiori:
No.
That's her position the fuck (🤨) She ain't bottoming to nobody.
Also she knows damn well you ain't lasting (💀)
I think she is very gentle, but ask for a chance to be the top and she'll give you the bIGGEST side eye.
If you try to undermine her during the act she can and WILL immediately destroy any attempt at that.
She is so sassy, brat taming is in her nature.
Puts lingerie on you and uses the fabric shears to pin you to the bed so you can't escape her.
Is very patient when it comes to her partner, and has no qualms about teasing you all day<3
Won't let you get that relief until you are begging and sobbing pretty for her<33
Can always be a tad bit kinder to you, though. Just be good and listen to her well next time. You can do that, right<3
Heizou:
Yes. But omg he will he give you hELL.
Lays on his back, his arms behind his head as a pillow and the most arrogant looking uwu face you can imagine.
Smug fuck (I will peg that twink)
Wind is strong. ANYWAYS.
Loud on purpose at first. Then ACTUALLY loud when you start learning more about his dos and don'ts.
If you are the type to give commands then be assured that he will not be following any<3
Even when completely ruined he still finds the energy to be such a brat.
Nothing that cannot be fixed by being a bit rougher though<3
Put him on a leash. Maybe add a pretty rope too. And see how fast his confident facade drops when he is so desperate for that sweet release :(
He is such a whore (/affec) I love him
Illuga:
No.
Another twink who refuses to let his partner do any of the heavy lifting.
This one, however, is much more easier to fluster than the other.
A hot breath behind his reddening ear, a teasing finger under his sleeveless turtleneck, and the once dependable captain is no longer capable of the most basic functions anymore<3
Bonus points if you put a possesive hand on that small waist of his as you guide him somewhere more... private.
It's for a super secret important thing, you swear! (He knows damn well that you are lying)
It's almost pathetic, really. The way he is so determined to pretend have any sort of control yet gives in the moment you take the lead.
Feels so guilty that he is "making" you pleasure him. But he also can't get himself to tell you to stop because you are just so good at what you do he loses all words<3
Becomes so clingy and emotional during times like these. Please give him the praise he deserves :(
Freminet:
I think we all already know the answer to this one (💀)
He is the bottomest bottom to ever bottom.
This is like one of three things the genshin fandom universally agrees on.
That twink is already getting destroyed.
I genuinely think he'll cry if you try to make him top you.
Combust on the spot, even.
He'll still try, of course, but the poor thing's hands would be shaking so hard he can barely unbutton your shirt or unbuckle your bottoms.
Stutters out multiple sorrys for each time his fingers slip as he fumbles with your clothes.
He's just so hard but he's also too freaking flustered to do anything about it (my shayla :( )
Will look at you with the saddest, most guilty and teary-eyed expression when he realizes that he has been unconciously humping your thigh the entire time
(He's so pathetic I love him)
Please stop bullying him, he really can't take it anymore :(
Shenhe:
Yes.
Let's be for real; you already top her most of the time.
Something something the red rope is there to keep her in check something something sexual intimacy is a very emotional affair that may or may not trigger her.
Although she is faring better now, Shenhe still fears having any sort of power over you, so she would rather just let you have any advantage she can give.
Not that it would matter much if she actually went on a rampage. But it's the thought that counts<3
I think she's a breather. No loud moans, no grunts or growling. Just soft, quiet breaths.
Would not mind if you are loud, though. The entire point from this is that everyone is at their most vulnerable, right?
If you ever made her top you then she'll be so sweet and attentive<3
Quietly asking for consent before touching anything and constantly checking if you are comfortable.
She is just trying her best, and god is she good.
Mavuika:
Yes.
Thinks you can't handle her (Smug Fuck x2)
You can't, but still—
Is very chill in general, but oh archons can she be such a tease when she wants to be.
Would go out of her way to hold her own reactions in. She just wants you to go all out on her<3
.. and maybe tire yourself out to the point you cannot continue anymore.
Can and will taunt you. Again, she is just encouraging you to reach your limits<3
Won't do it for much though because she knows when you are too exhausted and it's her duty now to take good care of you too<3
Can be very gentle when she wants to be.
You were doing your best just now. It's her turn to return the favor now<3
As always, this is written just for fun. Feel free to pile up your own thoughts on it :>
synopsis. what i think the genshin men would call their girlfriend!
tags. fluff , genshin men x fem!reader . THESE AREN'T JUST WHAT THEY CALL YOU, IT'S JUST WHAT THEY CALL YOU THE MOST! and yes there's doubles on the some one, comment if there's one that you don't know or aren't clear!
author's notes. if i didnt include your favourite please don't send hate, im very busy and i am struggling to focus on posting rn. NEW FORMAT BECUZ I WAS BORED THIS ISNT PERMANENT THIS IS THE ONLY TIME THIS TOOK WAY TOO LONG
when they overhear you talking lovingly about them [genshin men pt.2]
⋗ ft. albedo, illuga, kaveh, lohen, varka, wanderer, wriothesley, xiao
⋗ ~0.3k | fluff | gn!reader
Albedo
He’s waiting rather impatiently. The delivery should already be here, it is crucial to his work. The task at hand demands to be finished immediately, but without the necessary components Albedo can’t continue and his mind runs in circles of frustration and impatience. Similarly, his own steps circle around the room for something to do.
There are quiet voices outside the door suddenly, nothing new, yet in his current state his ears catch the sound and latch onto it. With you as part of the equation, his interest is piqued for the time being. He doesn’t appreciate interruptions while he’s deep in his work, but seeing as there’s nothing he can do, he comes closer to the door.
He jolts back once he can hear the words like they burn him. Frown tugs at his features. What are you even talking about - with whom? Something inside him must be getting messed up and thrown off balance. Something inside of you must be wrong. A chemical reaction going haywire. Why else would you feel like that towards a being such as him? Same as the base of your existence might be… Could you truly…?
The delivery finally arrives. When Albedo opens the door upon hearing the familiar sound of steps weighted down by the package, you jump away in fright. Instead of pointing out it was you who picked this precise location to spill your feelings, he gives you a gentle smile. Then - his lips move on their own, his tongue won’t listen to reason. He invites you inside.
It’s so impractical - he’s not done. This is a precise work requiring his full focus, and while he usually doesn’t struggle with devoting his senses and his mind to what he’s doing, right now it seems to be a challenge. He’s like a magpie drawn to the jewels of your eyes. His hands shake imperceptibly, and yet it’d be enough to lead to failure.
So he lays everything down. It seems his attention and interest is already elsewhere.
Illuga
On nights like this he tends to stay out longer. Both his duty and his curse. It’s cold and especially dark with no moonlight to illuminate the paths and some of the already sparse lights flicker like dying fireflies, soon to be extinguished. They really need to hound Aino into teaching them how to repair the technology, Illuga thinks.
Nonetheless, he makes his way towards home, towards you. The thought blows life into the embers in his chest, spreading warmth through his half-frozen body running on fumes at this point. Only a little further. He’s passing through the gap between the houses when he hears your laugh - and then more. Though he can’t tell who you’re speaking to, one of the neighbours, maybe, it doesn’t matter. It feels too much like a dream.
He clears his throat. He’d love to listen more - he truly would, but it’s rude to listen in on what you wanted to convey privately. Illuga would prefer to hear the rest of what you were to say in person, without secrets and hiding. You look like a rabbit caught in a trap, so utterly adorable that he almost feels bad.
So he doesn’t bring it up immediately. Instead, over the warm soup that’s your dinner, you talk about your days. He holds your hand in his, absentmindedly drawing circles on the back of your hand. You help each other undress and dress again once you’re ready for bed. And only then does he ask, only with you tucked under his chin, cocooned by blankets.
Illuga knows he could fall asleep like this and have the most peaceful sleep of his life, yet he resists the temptation. Instead, every shy confession of yours he meets with just as quiet whispered prayers of love. Pieces of his soul laid bare. With each exchange you bring yourself closer, he pulls you in tighter, as if you wanted to melt into a singular being.
Kaveh
The world is spinning in that familiar, dreamy way. Kaveh is swaying to the music surrounding him. He leans on the railing, looking down at the strangers living their life underneath his balcony. Headache is starting to form behind his eyes, a problem for future him. For now, he feels peaceful. And sleepy. Resting his head on his arms, he feels strength starting to leave him and his body leaning to the side-
Yet before he hits the ground, he’s pulled up and steadied. Another warm body presses against his, familiar and comfortable. He lets himself be guided and maneuvered, though he can’t say why he trusts you so much. He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t let you see him like this, and yet he’s so tired and weak that he can’t help but crave that care.
Kaven allows himself to be pushed onto bed and cleaned up. As soft as the touch of the wet cloth is, as smooth as the feeling of fresh pajamas is, they’re pushed to the background of his mind. His focus lingers on your words. Are you aware he can hear? Are you aware you’re saying all that… Do you mean it? He feels so pathetic it makes his eyes water shortly before he falls asleep.
When you wake up, Kaveh is nowhere to be found. A ghost, nobody is of any help as to his whereabouts. And he wants to keep it that way. Despite being haunted by guilt and his own self-doubt, he remains hidden while his mind races. A cursed circle of awareness and paranoia. You wouldn’t lie, you talk like that about him to his face, to your friends, when he’s there and when he’s not. Why can’t he accept it?
He keeps running away from your feelings until he can’t anymore. And then, and only then, does he run straight into your arms. He throws both of you to the ground, clinging to you desperately. And so the cycle begins anew.
Lohen
Slacking off? Lohen’s lips curl up, a cat who caught the canary. It was a highly unusual sight - after all you knew better than this. You knew exactly what it takes to be a knight of your standing, and you knew that one doesn’t keep their position by standing around talking about the weather.
What’s more - one doesn’t get to keep their life by chatting up strangers. At least not on his watch, not the one that’s his. Still, this isn’t an appropriate place for recklessness, and so he creeps closer, staying in the shadows.
The other guy sounds scared and… something more, is it confusion? Is it anger? If Lohen had to say, it’s the kind of panicked anger a cornered animal might feel in the face of a stronger beast. So he listens intently to your words that follow.
What he hears is so surprising and ordinary that he barely stifles his laugh before he lunges forward. In a second, the dude disappears. You on the other hand - you stand still, as relaxed as before, as if there wasn’t a dagger’s blade pressed against your throat. The edge has already tasted your blood, not enough to make it drip, but enough to make it clear you should be careful about how deeply you’re breathing.
“You’re losing your edge,” he sneers into your ear.
“Me? I’m not the one getting worked up over a love confession,” you huff, “From my lover no less.”
The sting of a cut is there with every word. Yet - yet, the blade stops the bleeding as much as it slices your throat. It’s nothing serious anyway. Nothing he’ll get told off for either, the captain’s already given up trying to understand your spats.
Besides, since the dagger’s not a threat, there’s an opening for you to slip from him with a few practiced moves. And so danse macabre begins, as much a proof of his devotion as a lesson in mortality.
Varka
It’s loud. Almost unbearably so, but Varka is long used to it. It’s just how taverns get after a successful expedition, successful battle - which was it again? He doesn’t quite remember, the booze buzzes through his veins loud enough to erase the memories of everything but victory. The one beacon of hope in the darkness of neverending struggles against the odds.
The air, however, is getting too stale so he finds himself heading outside to fill his lungs with the clean air of the night, warm and carrying the scent of flowers native to his homeland. Just what he needed.
He truly didn’t expect to stumble upon you here - just behind the corner, sitting at one of the tables outside, chatting where the roar inside is just a background noise. And definitely not with someone who’s not him. So he stalks closer, curious what made you leave the party. How foolish he was for thinking he’d leave your mind.
It’s not very gentlemanly of him, but so be it. Hearing you talk like that - that beats a thousand nights of celebrations thrown in his name. His heart pounds harder than it does preparing for a fight. So his strategy is to wait for you to be done talking, and then he struts over, ignores your panicked squeak and your friend’s laughter, and picks you up to carry you further away where it can be just you and him.
Even then, however, Varka holds you, safe and steady in his arms as he rests his forehead against yours. His eyes carry that same tenderness with which he looks at you when you share a bed. He stops, a moment of charged stillness, before his lips crash against yours. He easily takes control of the kiss, purring when your arms wrap around his neck. Gradually, though, the kiss slows down, less hungry and more desperate, reverent. It takes you a moment to realize that what he’s murmuring between each kiss is a thank you.
Wanderer
The sun’s reached its peak in the sky and beams down mercilessly on the city. The people weaving around him glisten with sweat, a plight he’s freed from. There’s no need to rush while everyone seems so sleepy with the sun’s heat.
Without a destination in mind, Wanderer lets his feet take him wherever - to the market, down to the docks. Then back towards the houses, because perhaps he could laze around today and go through some of the academic texts he took out to study.
Yet reaching the humble abode he shares with you, he finds words flowing from the open window, unguarded, and centered around him it seems. He can’t quite stop the poisonous flames of doubt and fear twisting themselves into anger from licking at his fingertips, spreading across his body.
It must be a performance, he decides. Nobody would ever talk about him in this way without a reason. Though a conversation with a friend can take many turns, he doubts they should ever get this… personal. You must’ve spotted him, although he knows you lack the skill. But what other reason would there be for your voice to soften like this? For these words to leave your mouth? He feels like you’re sitting at different sides of a confessional. Yet why does he feel like the sinner although he remains completely silent? He grits his teeth.
It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Don’t you speak like that, don’t you whisper those confessions while holding his face when there’s nothing to gain, too? The off-chance that you mean every word is worse. Doesn’t everyone like that leave or otherwise discard him? Why would you be any different? He cannot let anyone know his feelings, however, he cannot show his weakness or it’ll speed up the inevitable process.
So when you find Wanderer lying in the grass next to your home, he only gives an excuse about why he didn’t come in. He hesitates when you grab his hand to drag him inside.
Wriothesley
He enjoys being where he’s not expected to be. It’s a good way of getting a general idea about the mood inside the fortress, and Wriothesley would prefer to remain on top of things if there was anything that’s causing conflict. So he carries the box of snacks he acquired for the tea break you’re supposed to meet for shortly, having retrieved it himself.
And who does he not stumble upon? And engaged in conversation so deeply that you don’t even spot him, too. Ideas swarm in his mind until he catches a bit of what you’re saying. Then time just seems to stop. He draws back, enough to remain within earshot but hidden from sight. Definitely not so he can lean against the wall of his cover as the world tilts on its axis. Or so that nobody witnesses how heavy his breathing gets.
When you enter Wriothesley’s office later. He seems deep in thought. His gaze is unfocused, staring into the steaming tea as if it held answers to all the questions of the universe. Yet the moment you come closer to his desk, his attention snaps to you.
He offers you his hand, brings you closer and pulls, dragging you into his lap. His head suddenly rests against your chest, his arms hold you like you’ll disappear if he lets go any tiny bit. You’re the safety he’s always been longing for, he realizes. You. If he has you, the whole world can burn.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you reassure him and watch magic happen. The towering figure of a man melts into you, a putty under your touch.
He doesn’t tell you why, or what happened. He simply stays completely pliant. It doesn’t matter if he’s drinking tea or helping himself to a slice of cake, he stays just as he is - leaning his head against you, closing his eyes in pleasure when you knead the muscles on his shoulder. His voice sounds much softer than you’ve ever heard it.
Xiao
When was the last time he followed the steps of a mortal for no good reason? Xiao doesn’t remember. Yet he can’t pinpoint why is it that he follows after you. Maybe because you don’t treat him like others do, with blind respect. No, gentler. Like the face of a rock, caressed by the wind and waves, eroded with time, its sharp edges smoothed, he himself finds he similarly softened towards you. The cravings of gods and mortals, demons and holy beings, don’t seem that different, after all.
He remains hidden, high in the branches of the willow you decide to rest under. Even from high up, he can see how peaceful your face becomes, the tension easing off your shoulders. Why were you so anxious coming here? He’s written off the nervous energy radiating off you as worry about your safety. The slimes and hilichurls of this area can be particularly nasty. But he was wrong.
He freezes, only his centuries of meticulous training and experience keeping him hidden and safe balancing on the unsteady branch. With your head leaned back against the bark, you beg for guidance. Who - Xiao has no idea. His name is all he can hear - his name in the center of the maze of fond feelings you try to navigate. Fond. Perhaps that doesn’t even begin to encompass it.
You talk for so long that you fall asleep in the shade of the tree, slouching against the trunk. Only then does he climb down, watching your sleeping form in a new light, with a new furious storm raging inside of his chest. He crouches down, his hand no less gentle than a falling feather as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. Then, he does the unthinkable - he leans forwards and presses his lips against your forehead. You don’t stir, you only smile in your sleep.
Xiao looks around. Where can he hide to accidentally meet you on your way back?
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ⋆ ۫ ໒. o' my! or where you prank your bf saying you have tinder !
warnings: a bit of swearing 😋
featuring:: alhaitham, childe, heizou, kinich, lohen, lyney, scaramouche/wanderer.
pi note: me when i'm bored and don't wanna update yet my smaus hehehehehehhh love yall PLES LEAVE A BAD REVIEW ON GENSHIN'S PLEASEEEEE i cannot survive next update w 50 pulls
Kade's note : yeah, this is genuinely just me yapping about their hands for 3k words. Idk what else to tell you.
FLINS's hands are abnormally long, as expected of a fae. the tip of typical human hands only reach the upper thigh or lower hip. His hands, however, easily start mid-thigh, his fingertips brushing the top of his knee when standing upright. His skin is sickly pale, hinting towards an off-white but when exhausted, he struggles more to maintain his human appearance ; the ends of his fingers and the tip of his pointed ears slowly grow into a faint nuance of indigo, reminiscent of his original form.
Against popular belief, Flins's hands are cold. They do not possess a single hint of warmth his lantern form could suggest. When linking your hands together, they feel like walking through thick mist, but no water droplets taint your skin.
His touch is always fleeting, like the winter's breeze on a sunny day, reminding you it's cold presence before its return. At first, you simply thought the playful fae wished to tease you, but you soon came to realize it was an insecurity engraved deep into the metal caging his soul.
Flins is scared of his nature, and he is scared of hurting you with it. That's why his hold never lasts long. A permanent contradiction between his desire to keep you close to him until you inevitably vanish and he is left to wander once more in that immortal path he follows, and his wish to push you away to protect you from himself.
Warm would be underselling the feeling of holding DURIN's hands. They feel like cupping Teyvat's artificial sun in one's hands. Nonetheless, holding them doesn't hurt, it feels like fulfilling a thousand childish dreams.
Although comfortable, they aren't truly soft. His fingers are leaning towards the chubby side you'd often see on a child, a contradiction to his adult face and height. More often than not, he bears a few injuries on them, be it scratches, cuts, burn marks, and if those aren't prominent against his pinkish skin, it is the band-aids that cover them. Cute little things, decorated with a thousand animals such as dolphins and butterflies. Those injuries obviously come from his eagerness to learn more about the world he's been reborn into. To touch, to explore, to feel, to understand. Even he sometimes ends up with burn marks from going 'fishing' with Klee.
When the sun dips and he finally comes home after a whole day of running around Mondstadt, you never hesitate to sit with him on the couch, gently tapping the antiseptic on his cuts and patching up his hands. Never forgetting to tease him about the dirt beneath his nails before ordering him to take yet another bath.
WANDERER, whose hands are a pale pinkish color. They almost seem white until they flicker slightly and catch a hint of light, artificial or not, and gleam in an unnatural manner. They aren't quite long but not short, either. A reasonable size, although they are quite thin in width. His joints are quite visible as well, the thin artificial ball of his articulation coming into contact with the phalanges making a low sound, like shallow wood entering contact with another when he moves. One you can only hear when he runs his hands through your hair on an early morning or during those few deafeningly silent seconds when he comes to join you in bed.
They are cool to the touch, and although well polished, your fingers sometimes pause on an indent or two on his fingertips or open palm. Depending on how deep those are, you can catch a flicker of the translucent fluid that powers him up. In normal circumstances, it is hard to discern. However, when using his anemo vision, the fluid flows quicker and glows a lovely shade of cerulean.
All in all, when holding you, Wanderer's hands are firm but never harsh. As if you were a fragile china doll he fears letting go would break.
WRIOTHESELY's hands burn like the warmth that runs through one's hands after prolonged time in snow. His skin is that pale ivory shade hinting slightly towards a sand-like color, although you only know so from seeing more of his body beneath his usual attire. His hands alone do not suffice to discern the exact color of his skin. They are marred with too many scars of past battles and dark gray bandages. In fact, many cuts of his vary in shade : while some remain slightly lighter than the rest of him, long past the final stage of healing, others never fully do and stay a dark crimson or a variation of pink, making it impossible to tell which patch of him is truly the skin color he'd been born with.
They are of a normal size, although leaning towards width rather than length. His knuckles are a slightly darker shade than his ivory skin. Some of them in a slightly different position from yours, for they probably hadn't healed the way they were meant to.
Dark body hair grows on the back of his palm and the outer side of his forearm. It isn't too much, simply enough to notice it.
Ultimately, the inside of his palm contrasts nicely from the outside; it's soft and smooth but you rarely get the chance to simply hold them since he'd much rather placing them on your hips or around your shoulders. However, if you do manage to stop those teasing gestures and grab a hold of his hands, placing gentle kisses along the length of his marks, that man will melt on the spot.
LA SIGNORA's hands are elegant and graceful. A rich, healthy beige shade without a single blemish upon them. They are lukewarm and faintly smell of sakura bloom flowers due to the hand cream she had shipped to Shneznaya from Inazuma.
She has them manicured once a month at her favorite salon, often choosing a color that goes along her fatui uniform, such as deep crimson with a simple, timeless black or white lace design. They are soft to the touch and relatively small. When you both lay down on your shared bed after an exhausting day, she finds the action of running her nails on the back of your forearm or threading through your hair quite relaxing.
More often than not, she'll use the newly acquired nail size to gently nudge the skin of your stomach and revel in the way you jump and squeak at the action regardless of how many times she's done it.
LOHEN's hands are built for combat first, everything else comes second. His palms are broad, fingers strong. The kind that easily close around a weapon or an opponent's wrist. The skin is rough and layered with various callouses, especially on the tip of his fingers and the heel of his palms. They origin most likely from repeated impact rather than just weapon use. His knuckles are constantly bruised, and if not, they are in some form of healing stage from said bruises. Those appear in the form of faint yellows and purples, overlapping themselves as if the lighter ones didn't have enough time to disappear properly.
Sometimes, you happen to run across bite marks or crescent-shaped indents on his hands. Hadn't you known him better, you would've thought they were from constantly fighting around. However, they are, in fact, self-inflicted. Worst of all, he doesn't even bother hiding them, nor his other injuries, if anything, he often presses into them absentmindedly, like testing the pain.
Lohen likes sensation in whatever form it may appear. His hands always seek it ; whether it's tapping against a surface, squeezing something or someone, dragging his nails across skin just to watch it turn red under the sharp pressure and, of course, dragging his thumb against your pulse point, pressing just enough to feel it jump beneath his touch.
Despite all of that, there's a quiet calculated precision to how he uses them, he knows exactly how much force to apply, where to press to hurt, and, surprisingly, how to avoid hurting you when he chooses not to. Thus, when tending to your injuries, his hands become uncharacteristically steady and careful, his movements slower than usual. He doesn't comment on it, but his touch lingers a few seconds longer than necessary, like he's reassuring himself that you're still intact.
A subtle contradiction arises in his mannerisms, his hands can bruise, restrain, break yet when resting on you they feel anchoring rather than threatening, like a soft, cold breeze one may feel under the shade on a hot summer day. He understands pain intimately, so, with you, his hands are always hovering between inflicting and protecting, deliberately choosing the latter, most of the time.
ILLUGA's hands are solid and steady in a way that feels like they were made to hold weight —be it a weapon, responsibility, or you. They are slightly larger than average, with broad palms and thick fingers that don't quite match any of the elegance he might otherwise carry. The skin is rough, not from neglect, the callouses that linger it sit mostly along the base of his fingers and palms, earned through repetition rather than recklessness (cough— Lohen).
His warmth is consistent, not overwhelming, just enough to be grounding. His grip is firm and reliable, never crushing, never hesitating either, like he always knows exactly how much strength to use. There are scars but fewer than expected, sure, there are a few of those old, pinkish gashes that travel up his arms to his neck but mot much more. Some thin lines from cuts across his knuckles and perhaps one or two deeper ones along the side of his hands. They are all cleanly healed, though, suggesting proper discipline when treating them.
When he takes your hand, there's no teasing or fleeting touch ; he holds it properly, fingers interlocked securely. Additionally, he has a habit of resting his hand on you mindlessly, be it on your shoulder when standing beside you or the small of your back when guiding you through a crowd. It's not possessive, nor intentional, simply instinctual.
He rarely fidgets, but when he does, it comes in the form of rolling his wrist slowly or flexing his fingers like he's remembering the weight of his polearm.
His hands are not expressive in the way other's are, but they are honest. Everything he does not say tends to show in how he holds you, steady, present, and unwilling to let go unless you ask.
SUNDAY's nails are always short, although it is not because he cuts them, but because he has the nasty habit of biting them until he reaches the skin beneath. Additionally, the skin of his cuticles often peels. Thus, it is not uncommon to see reddened skin or dried blood where he must've ripped it off.
His hands are as soft as his pretty white feathers, smooth to the touch and comfortable to hold. They are lithe, his joints slightly more prominent when holding onto something with some amount of effort.
There is a certain grace in the way they move, like a bird dancing to attract a mate. They hypnotize you in the way they gently hold the thin foot of his wine glass, fingers gently circling the rim or how they move when maneuvering those golden, thorned ropes he uses on field. A measured action that hides both softness and strength.
All in all, you rarely get a proper chance to admire the pale, smooth skin of his hands because he'd much rather wear those dark, navy, gloves, much like he enjoys wearing that overly complicated outfit that is both unbelievably frustrating and highly appreciated in its asymmetric glory.
DAN HENG is a Vidyahara, by definition, he is cold-blooded, and thus, his skin is also quite cold ; thus, holding his hands is a must in your relationship.
His hands vary slightly depending on the form he's currently in ; in his typical, human disguise, they look underwhelming in their simplicity. Pale small hands, sometimes slightly clammy, short nails and visible joints. Nothing unusual save for the occasional paper cut from sorting through archives. In his Vidyahara form, however, his hands become slightly more interesting to look at.
His pale hands gain faint patches of scales along their length. Most often on the side of his fingers or on the back of his palm. They are a faint translucent color similar to that of his skin, although they gain a slight shade of cerulean. The tips of his fingers feel slightly colder than the rest of his hand, almost like touching marble, and his nails become sharper, akin to claws. Nevertheless, he always treats you with utmost care, controlling every flick of his wrist to avoid accidentally hurting you.
Speaking of scales, it is a must to speak about shedding seasons. While in his human form, the effects are minimal : it appears as fine, translucent flakes along his wrists, fingers or knuckles, similar to dry skin save for the ever-present shimmer the scales keep. In his dragon form, however, the shedding is more visible, thin slivers of old ones slowly begin to appear on the small patches of scales, occasionally peeling back.
When the shedding period approaches, the scales along his hands become slightly duller and rougher, losing their usual smooth sheen. Additionally, he grows more sensitive to touch for the new scales beneath are still delicate. He tends to hide his hands when it happens, a quiet embarrassment he rarely speaks about. However, if you help brush the loose scales away, he becomes noticeably still, unused to someone treating the process as something natural instead of strange. The newly revealed scales beneath are smoother, darker, and colder, glimmering faintly like polished jade under light.
Sometimes a thin scale catches on fabric or bedding, leaving behind a tiny iridescent fragment you’ll later find on your sleeve. During heavier shedding cycles, he prefers holding your sleeve instead of your hand, worried the rough edges might scratch you —though you often take his hand anyway.
The lack of care ANAXA holds for himself is most evident in his hands. They aren't dirty per se, but they carry a quiet sort of neglect one shows to an object deemed unimportant. His skin is pale to the point of appearing almost translucent, stretched thin over protruding joints, and darkened veins that trace along the back of his hands like fragile, branching features. His fingers are long and precise, built for delicate work rather than strength, often stained with ink or chemical residue. His nails are uneven, sometimes chipped, not out of carelessness, rather out of disinterest. When holding some sort of tools, his hands are perfectly steady, the only time they don’t betray exhaustion.
Now, his hands are starkly different from one another. The "normal" hand, as one would call it, is cooler than average, not unnaturally so, simply cold like his body is constantly put under pressure —which, it is. Sometimes, you can catch slight tremors when it stays idle, their intensity varying based on how much he's eaten or slept. The callouses on this hand are minimal, limited to where pens or instruments rest, mostly on the last joint of his ring finger. This is the hand he tends to use when interacting with you, brushing against your sleeve rather than your skin, adjusting something near you over touching you directly.
His altered hand possesses skin that is etched with bold, unnatural red markings, dancing between being too precise to be accidental and too invasive to be natural. The gem embedded within the back of his palm feels warm, wrongly so, like something alive where it shouldn't be. When you touch it, the temperature is inconsistent, warm at the core, and cold at the edges. Additionally, there is a faint pulse beneath the surface, not quite matching that of a human's. His fingers on this hand move with slight delay or over correction, sometimes too swift while others not enough. Once in a while, the markings might dimly glow or produce little, subtle heat. He rarely uses this hand casually, for he wishes to alter as little as possible with the markings.
He treats his own body like an ongoing experiment, and his hands are no exception. To you, however, his hands hold quiet symbolism. One closer to reason, control and undeniable humanity, while the other represents his defiance, curiosity, and self-inflicted transcendence. Together, they make his touch feel like a constant imbalance ; one careful, the other dangerous, yet both undeniably his.
Ultimately, he doesn't initiate touch often, still, he doesn't pull away when you do. When you take his normal hand, he allows it, although his fingers remain slightly tense at first. If you take his altered one, he stills completely, watching you closely as if awaiting some kind of disgust or rejection. When he finds none, his grip give a faint squeeze, the warmth of the gem seeming to stabilize for a few instants before going back into it's temperature frenzy. Afterwards, he is much more likely to stand closer to you, letting his hand brush yours, lingering slightly longer than before with feelings that feel blasphemous to name.
AGLAEAS's hands are warm, like slipping into a bath after a long day of labor. Speaking of baths, it is in the bathhouse that you most see her, often indulging in shared intimacy among gentle waves.
Due to the prophecy, Aglaea has long lost her vision. Relying strongly on her golden threads to keep track of the world around her. With you, however, she perhaps indulges herself a tad bit more. Choosing to run her hands through the arch of your brows, the slope of your nose, the line of your jaw, the steady bumps of your spinal cord. Memorizing it all. And those gentle touches leave warmth behind them, when she ceases, you feel her touch still.
Additionally, with her impaired vision, she is unable to properly paint her nails as she used to before. Thus, she relies on you to cradle her ivory, rosy hands in yours as you gently coat her nails in that familiar shade of gold.
When she does decide to leave the bathhouse and take a stroll around Okhema, she takes great pleasure in hearing you yap on about what you've done that day or what you're seeing currently with her at your side, hand in hand.
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