sidemari

[sidemari]

Can you do another stroy for nikto in bun in the oven, please (you don't have to of course)

Hey! Of course I can. I added his part on the same post. I never wrote about him, I hope I got his personality right. 🖤

[sidemari]

OMG! Thank you for the Genshin Food! I love how you handled Diluc, Kaeya, and Ayato, and I enjoyed the way you switched it up, given each of the prompts. You've completely captured their personalities, and I'm so happy! I'm gonna be re-reading this for a while.

Happy Belated Birthday, Diluc. Lol

Thank you again for the event!

Awnn! No worries! I'm so happy you liked it! 🖤

[sidemari]

• Bun in the oven •

Some texts about you telling them that you’re pregnant and some headcanons about how they’re during the pregnancy. 

Characters included: Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, Keegan P. Russ, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, König, Nikto and Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader 

TW: Mild angst, mentions of abortion and insecurities, implied smut. But everything works out in the end. 

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

You call him from the corner of the room, that nervous smile on your face. Soap knows right away that something big is coming — he feels it, like he senses danger on the field… But this time, it’s something different. Something good.

“Johnny… Do you remember the night you came back home after being away for so long due to that mission?” You tested the waters by avoiding telling the truth right away.

“Yeah… How could I forget that night?” He smiled warmly, his mind flashing with the images of that day. “What about it, hon?” 

“Well… You know we got carried away and…”

“And…?”

“We’re having a baby.” You finally share your secret. 

He blinks. Once. Twice. His usual playful smile disappears for a second, replaced by a stunned look, as if he’s trying to decode what he’s just heard.

“Are… are you serious?” You nod, and he… explodes with joy. He literally lifts you into the air with a surprised cry, almost laughing and crying at the same time.

“Oh my God! We’re going to be parents?! Aye, fuck, baby, is this really real?”

He kisses your forehead, then your belly, even though it hasn’t even changed yet. He murmurs a bunch of sweet things in that warm accent — promises, plans, dreams. And then he whispers very softly, just for you to hear:

“I swear I will be the best father in the world… to our baby. And the best man to you. Always.”

When the morning sickness starts, he becomes your personal bodyguard against any suspicious smells: “What the hell is that in the air?! It smells like poison, honey. Close that window!”

He researches everything about pregnancy and becomes the most emotional “expert” on the planet. He sends you messages like: “Did you know that the baby already has little fingers today? LITTLE FINGERS, BABY!”

He talks to your belly every day, telling them about his missions, his friends on the team, and asking if the baby prefers soccer or rugby: “If you kick now, it’ll be rugby, okay?”

He starts to become obsessed with photos. He takes a thousand selfies with you and your belly, even while you’re sleeping. 

He refuses to let you carry anything, literally: “Not even the bag. Not even the remote. Let me carry it, honey.”

He massages your feet every night, and even develops a ‘military relaxation technique’ just so you can sleep better.

He has a hospital bag ready with 30 unnecessary things, like three types of chocolate, a teddy bear, and a mini speaker to play Scottish music for the baby.

He’s always reminding you how beautiful you are, even when you feel uncomfortable and insecure. “No matter how big your belly is, you’ve always been the love of my life, and now you’re carrying our little miracle. And no, I don’t give a single fuck about those stretchmarks. You’re nurturing a life inside your womb and your body is adapting itself because of it. I still think you look damn hot and I’m forever thankful that those pregnancy hormones shifted you into a little insatiable thing.”

He gets touchy-feely, sometimes hugging you in the middle of the night just to say thank you. 

He makes up nicknames for the baby while he’s still in the womb, like “Little Soap”. 

He gets really emotional during the first ultrasound. He holds your hand tightly and tries not to cry… but fails miserably.

He makes special playlists with soft Scottish music, movie soundtracks and even records himself talking so the baby can hear at night.

He buys miniature army clothes, but also absurdly cute ones, like animal costumes, because “he needs to have style in the nursery”.

One day he shows up with a crib set up in the middle of the living room just because “he wanted to see if it would look nice in natural light”.

He learns to cook your favorite foods (even if it turns out to be a disaster) just so you can eat what you want safely.

He keeps notes with the dates of the first times: first kick, first time their heartbeat was heard, first photo of your belly. He’s creating a secret “dossier” of love.

He swears he’s going to be the most present father in the world. No matter how much life changes, he will always be there for you two. 

It was a quiet night at home. The sky was clear, with a million stars shining through the open window. You were sitting on the couch, with a cup of hot tea in your hands, and Soap was lying next to you, with his head on your lap, apparently tired from the intense mission of the day. The conversation was calm, but you knew it was time to tell him the news. He was so focused on caressing your stomach as you played with his hair, that he didn't notice how nervous you were.

"Did you know you're going to be the best dad in the world?" You said softly, feeling your heart race. Soap looked at you with a crooked smile, his eyes shining with evident affection.

"I have no doubt about that, love. But what do you mean, best dad? If I'm not, who will be, huh?" You laughed, but you were feeling overflowing with happiness. Suddenly, the moment was there, and it was as if time had slowed down just so he could hear your words.

"Well… I can't say who's going to be the best father, but you're the best for me, and… Our daughter is going to be very lucky." There was a pause. Soap stood up quickly, looking at you, confused, as if he hadn't quite understood. His eyes were curious, but his smile stubbornly wouldn't leave his face. 

"Wait… What?" He asked, his eyes shining even brighter. You laughed, feeling the heat rise to your face. 

"I… we're expecting a little girl." Soap's eyes widened for a moment and he was silent, processing the information. When it finally sunk in, he leaned forward, with a dazzling smile.

"A little girl?" he repeated, his voice full of disbelief. 

"Yes, a little girl," You said, your heart almost jumping out of your chest. "You're going to be the father of a little girl." And then, he simply laughed. A genuine, happy laugh, one of those laughs that seemed so honest that you felt your soul warm. He stood up from the couch, holding your hands tightly before he jumped close to you, not caring about the teacup that almost fell to the floor.

"Are you sure about this? A real little girl?" He asked again, his eyes shining with happiness.

You laughed then, finally, the feeling of nervousness disappearing. He was more excited than ever, and his happiness was contagious.

"I'm sure!" You answered, laughing along with him, the two of you hugging each other tightly. "We're going to have a daughter, Soap." He ran his hand over your belly, still not fully believing it, but with a sparkle in his eyes that didn't fade. 

"I promise that I'm going to be the best dad in the world. It's going to be a pleasure to watch our little girl grow up." You leaned back against the couch, feeling your heart beat faster. 

"I know you will." And as he continued to rub your belly, smiling like a fool and in that moment, you were more certain than ever that he was the kind of father who would do anything for her. 

Keegan P. Russ 

You hadn’t planned to tell him like this. You wanted something elaborate, symbolic… maybe a candlelit dinner, a note written in your nervous handwriting. But there, sitting on the couch, with his hand resting on your thigh and his eyes intently watching a movie, you felt the right moment — a comfortable, intimate silence, just the two of you.

“Keegan…” You began, your voice low, almost as if you were keeping a precious secret between your lips. He turned his face to you right away. He always did that — when you spoke, he listened. With his eyes, with his whole body. It was a habit of his to offer you his total presence.

“Is something wrong?” He asked immediately, already with that protective look that always came when you hesitated.

“No… it’s just...” You took his hand and brought it to your belly, as if that would be enough. Maybe it was. For a moment, he didn’t understand. He looked back at your face, at your eyes filled with unshed tears, at his hand under your still flat stomach, but which held a secret growing in silence.

“Are you...?” He didn’t finish the question, but his eyes said it all. You nodded, with a shy, uncertain, but hopeful smile. The air between you changed. He didn’t say anything for a second too long — but you saw it. His shoulders relaxed as if he had been waiting for this news without knowing. His eyes watered, and his mouth opened slowly, a whisper coming out between his lips:

“Are we becoming a family...?” The way he hugged you that night was different. It was a protective, reverent grip. As if you were made of porcelain. As if the most important miracle of his life was inside you — and it was.

The focused, meticulous soldier appeared in a new form: in nutrition spreadsheets, reminders on his phone with alarms for his snacks, vitamins, and appointments. He went with you to all of them—even when he was exhausted, even when he had just returned from a mission the day before. He sat next to you, held your hand, and listened intently to every word the obstetrician said.

Keegan was the type of person who didn’t say much, but showed it all through his actions. He learned to cook healthy meals even though he didn’t know how to cut a tomato properly at first. He would run his hands over his belly before bed every night, with a caress that felt like a silent prayer.

And when the symptoms got tough — the nausea, the aches, the bloating — Keegan didn’t run away. He showed up with tea (and if you refused to drink them, he’d force you to, saying it was for the good of the baby you were nurturing), warm blankets, and concerned eyes. He sat on the floor beside your bed when you didn’t want to talk. He was just there and it was enough. 

Sometimes, during the night, he would wake up just to check if you were still sleeping well. He would run his hand over your forehead, carefully adjusting your position, as if he could protect you even from nightmares.

Keegan, during your pregnancy, was as firm as steel and as gentle as a cozy blanket. He became your safe haven, your silent and constant guardian. He slept with his hand on your belly, talked to the baby when he thought you couldn’t hear, promised he would be there, always, that he would take care of you, that no one would ever hurt you both. 

You found him in the kitchen, cooking your latest craving: berry pie.

“Baby,” You called, leaning against the door frame. He looked up immediately, a small smile forming when he saw you there.

You walked over to him slowly, your heart racing, and pulled out the small pair of blue booties you had bought that morning.

“For when he gets here.” You said, placing the booties in his hands. A cheesy way to reveal the gender of your baby, yes, but those booties were just too cute for you to ignore. 

Keegan frowned, confused at first — until understanding dawned on him. He blinked a few times, in disbelief.

“A little boy?” He asked, almost in a choked whisper.

You nodded with an excited smile. He laughed softly, shaking his head as if he was still processing it. Then he pulled you slowly closer, resting his forehead against yours before spinning you around slowly and carefully to not make you nauseous.

“My little boy… Our little boy!” He murmured, his voice cracking with joy.

When the time arrives, Keegan is incredibly calm on the outside, but inside he is a whirlwind of emotions. He has never been so scared and so happy at the same time. He held your hand through every contraction, whispering “You can do it,” “I’m here,” “It’s going to be okay” like a mantra — as if his voice could protect you from the pain. When he heard the baby cry for the first time, his eyes filled with tears instantly. He tried to hide it, but the emotion overflowed in his eyes and in the way he smiled at you and when he held his son for the first time. He was completely mesmerized: his big fingers touched the little body with the greatest delicacy in the world, as if he was afraid of hurting his own son. 

Keegan refuses to sleep while you rest. He sits in an armchair with the baby on his lap, just observing every little detail of the newborn. When the medical team came back and found him with the baby sleeping on his chest, and you sleeping in bed, they said it looked like a scene from a movie. 

He talks to the baby even though he knows he doesn't understand: "You have your mother's eyes... And you'll be strong like her too." 

Takes pictures of the tiny feet, of the baby grabbing your finger, of you breastfeeding him, bathing him and sleeping with him and keeps them all in a folder that only he has access to.

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick

You realized something was wrong when you woke up with an upset stomach for two days in a row — and without having eaten anything heavy. The smell of the breakfast you loved started to make you nauseous… and that was the first warning sign. Kyle even jokingly commented: “Are you abandoning me in our sacred coffee ritual?” — and you forced a smile, pretending you weren’t worried. A few days later, you realized your period was late. A week. Then ten days. And then fifteen. And then, sweet fear hit deep in your chest.

You bought the test by yourself, on a quick trip to the pharmacy, and hid it in your purse as if it were a state secret. On a cold, slow morning, you took the test while Kyle was still sleeping. The silence in the bathroom was almost deafening as you waited the five minutes that the package indicated. Two lines. Two lines that changed everything. You stood still for long minutes, in the same position, holding the test with shaking hands and teary eyes. You didn't know whether to laugh or cry. You did both. The first thing you thought was: "How am I going to tell him?" — and right after: "Will he want this with me?" 

You tried to plan a cute way to tell him. A special dinner, a little box with the test and a note. But anxiety got the best of you. You told him in a simple way, on a normal afternoon, when it was just the two of you, sitting together. He noticed something different about you, and when you shared the secret you were carrying alone, time seemed to stop.

He was sitting on the couch, his eyes softly focused on you as you walked slowly toward him, your hands clasped in front of you, as if trying to contain your racing heart. He could tell right away — you were nervous.

“Are you okay, love?” He asked, his voice low, full of affection.

You nodded, but your throat was dry. You took a deep breath, then walked over and sat down next to him. His hand came naturally to yours, his warm, firm fingers wrapping around yours as if to say ‘I’m here, talk to me.’

“Kyle…” Your gaze met his, and there was so much tenderness there it almost hurt. “I’m pregnant.” For a moment, the world seemed suspended. His smile froze mid-smile, his eyes wide with surprise. You saw the emotion building there — first confusion, then a wet gleam in his eyes, as if he’d just heard something sacred.

“Are you… pregnant?” He repeated in a whisper, as if he was afraid to break the moment.

You nodded, with a small smile. His answer came in the form of a soft, almost breathless laugh, before he pulled you into a hug full of warmth and reverence. He held you as if you were made of glass, but at the same time with such intensity that your heart seemed to fit into his.

“We’re going to have a baby… Fuck’s sake!, that’s so amazing...” He whispered against your neck, as if he still couldn’t believe it. 

“Kyle… No swearing around the baby.”

“Copy that.” He smiled. “I'll be here. Every step, every beat of this little heart… I want to live it all with you.” After that, he placed his hand lovingly on your lower belly, as if he could already feel the new life you had started together. And in that moment, between soft smiles and slow kisses, the whole world seemed to fit between his arms.

He became obsessed with learning everything: he read medical articles, downloaded three different pregnancy apps, and asked the internet if certain strange food cravings were normal. 

He created a ritual: every night, he would lie with his head on her belly and whisper stories, just to “familiarize the baby with his father’s voice.” He would always say proudly: “Our baby will be born hearing the most beautiful accent in the world, honey.” 

He was so protective, but in a sweet way —  accompanying you to every appointment, carrying healthy snacks in his bag, and talking to doctors like you were a secret agent on a mission. 

When your belly started to grow, he bought funny “Loading… Baby 50%” T-shirts and forced you to wear them just to see your grumpy little face. No need to tell him they look awful, he’s already taking pictures of you. 

One day, he found you crying watching a random video of a stray dog being adopted and he just sat down with you, hugging you tightly, and getting emotional too, without even knowing why. 

He insisted on putting the crib together with his own hands. He made several mistakes, got his fingers stuck, and cursed the manual — but in the end, the crib was perfect.

When the contractions started, he went into military mode in 0.1 seconds. He grabbed the hospital bag, checked the checklist, warned everyone and took you to the hospital as if he was on a mission.

During the birth, he held your hand the whole time, letting you crush his fingers without complaining as he kept murmuring something along the lines of “Breathe with me. I’m with you.”

When the baby was born and cried for the first time, he cried too — the kind of silent, emotional cry that comes from deep in the chest.

He was paralyzed for a few seconds when he saw the baby in his arms, with teary eyes, whispering: “We did it. Look… we did it.”

You waited to find out the baby’s sex until the birth. It was a huge shock when the obstetrician said that a little boy had been born: “Hell yeah!”, he celebrated. “My little boy,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. “Our son...”

König

He finally returned from that mission that seemed to have no end. 

You call him by name with that soft voice that makes him feel weak to his knees. He notices something in your tone. The blue eyes fixed on yours with attention… and a hint of anxiety. “Was ist passiert, mein Schatz?” (“What happened, my love?”)

You take a deep breath, smiling with a nervousness that he immediately picks up on — and you finally say three words that change everything: 

“I am pregnant.” For a moment, he freezes. Not with rejection. Not with anger. But as if the world had gone silent. His eyes widen slightly, he takes a step back as if he’s been shocked, only to then approach you again with visible hesitation in his hands. The mask covers half of his reaction, but his eyes say it all. Pure vulnerability. The doubt of whether he deserves this. The desire to believe he still deserves to be happy. 

“Is it… mine?” He asks, his voice lower than ever.

“Of course it is, König!” 

When you say that — of course he knew it was his — König lets out a shaky sigh and puts his hands on his head, walking a few steps as if he doesn’t know what to do with his own body. Then he stops and he comes back to you. He kneels and he hugs your still-flat belly, pressing it against his face with an almost religious reverence.

“Mein Gott (My god)… you gave me a new life.” He murmurs, his voice hoarse and muffled.

Then he looks down at you, with teary eyes — the intimidating giant now looking like a lost, happy boy — and says something you would never forget:

“I never thought I would have something so precious. I will take care of you. The both of you. Even if the world falls apart… you will be safe.” 

In the first few months, König is on constant alert. Every moment of nausea, every different expression on your face, makes him stop everything to check if you are okay. 

He obsessively researches pregnancy in silence, on his cell phone, reading scientific articles, forums, and even mothers' groups — all in secret, with his eyes fixed on the screen as if he were studying military tactics. 

He tries to cook for you (with… variable results), just because he read that certain foods help with morning sickness. 

When your belly starts to grow, König starts talking to you when he thinks you are sleeping. He lies down next to you, his head resting gently on your belly, murmuring in German with a sweetness that seems unthinkable for such a huge man. "Dein Vater liebt dich sehr, mein kleines Wunder..." ("Your father loves you very much, my little miracle...") 

He starts to accompany you to every medical appointment as if they were a mission, paying attention to every comment from the doctors and nurses as if his life depended on it. 

When your belly is already heavy and your steps are slower, König starts carrying you to any place that involves stairs. Literally. He doesn't even ask. He just picks you up with the greatest care in the world, as if you were made of glass. 

When you start having false contractions, he goes into a state of absolute focus—the hospital bag has been packed for weeks, the routes have been planned, the emergency numbers are posted on the fridge. But despite this, he is always kind, always calm with you, even though he is seething with nerves inside.

He has internal crises of insecurity, but he never burdens you with them. He writes everything down in a hidden notebook, as a way of letting off steam. 

You find him on the balcony, the sky tinged with gold by the sunset. König’s back is turned, still, silent, as he usually does when he’s thinking too much. His large hands are resting on the railing, his broad body almost blocking the light. He turns when he hears your footsteps, and his soft gaze immediately lands on your belly with an almost reverent affection.

You smile, and he responds with that shy little smile at the corner of his mouth, his eyes still seeming to search for more signs that you’re okay.

“What did the doctor say?” He asks in a low voice, waiting for each word as if they were sacred.

You walk towards him, slowly, feeling your heart beat faster — not from nervousness, but from excitement. Then you take one of his hands and guide it to your belly.

“She’s fine,” You begin, looking into his eyes. “And yes... I said she.”

König’s eyes blink, as if it took him a second to process.

“She...?” He whispers, almost in disbelief. You nod, smiling even wider.

“We’re having a little girl.” His breath catches for a moment. His blue eyes — usually so restrained, so trained not to show too much — shine with immediate moisture. He kneels, letting his forehead touch yours while his hands wrap around your belly with a delicacy that doesn’t match its size.

You run your fingers through his hair, feeling him snuggle closer, his arms around your waist as if he wanted to protect the two of you from the entire world.

“She’s already so loved, König. By me… and by you.”

“I… I don’t know if I’m ready. But I’ll give everything. Everything. For both of you.”

“You’re already everything she needs. And everything I need too.” 

Nikto

The truth is that you found out you were carrying his child only in the third month of pregnancy. The missions, your dangerous job, the obligations, plans and goals, your own complex relationship with Nikto… all of this was too much for you to handle. The days became weeks and the weeks became months as you just ignored the symptoms, thinking that the nausea and exhaustion would pass. But they remained very present, and your suspicion only increased.

You took a pregnancy test, which came back positive. And to be sure, you also took a blood test some days after and then, an ultrasound, which finally revealed the baby's gender: a little boy was coming into the world. You did all this without saying a word to Nikto, fearing that he would hate the news. You weren't stupid, you knew he would soon realize something was out of place. Your body was changing, your symptoms were still present, and you even avoided exposing yourself to any kind of risk, as much as possible, unlike before.

He suspected the possible reason why this was happening, but he never forced you to admit anything. Not until you were ready.

When you told him the news, at first he reacted with silence and a hard look, trying to process the information. He’s not the type to show emotion easily, so you thought he was angry or indifferent… But inside, he would be conflicted. Part of him would feel vulnerable — the idea of ​​having created a new life would hit him harder than he expected. Another part would be on edge, worried for your safety and that of the baby, since his world is too violent for something so innocent.

But he wouldn’t shy away from responsibility. He just wouldn’t know how to show he cares in the traditional way. You’d see him more protective, more present, but also more silent. His love would be shown in actions, not words.

The base was silent that night—just the hum of the generators and the occasional sound of boots echoing in the hallway. He was sitting at the table, cleaning his weapon with the meticulous precision of always, his mask pushed up to his forehead, revealing those hard eyes… but that always softened when they landed on you. You walked in slowly, your fingers intertwined in front of you, your heart beating fast.

He noticed it instantly. He dropped the metal piece on the table and watched you silently. Not like a soldier, but like a man. Your man.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, standing up immediately, his tone low but attentive.

You shook your head, taking a deep breath before speaking.

“It’s not that. But… I need to tell you something. And it’s important.”

His eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms, his body firm as steel, but his gaze… almost nervous.

“I’m pregnant, Nikto.”

The silence that followed was as thick as the darkness outside. He didn’t answer. He just stood there, motionless, as if time had frozen. What did you expect? A scream? A sigh? A “how did that happen?”?

None of that came.

He walked towards you, slowly, as if he were stepping on unknown land. He stopped so close that you could feel the heat of his body. His gloved hand rose to your face — it hesitated in the air for a second — and then landed with a delicacy that no one would ever imagine that man was capable of.

“My son?” He murmured, his voice so low that it seemed like a secret between you and the universe.

Son… And he even had guessed the baby gender right.

You nodded, tears in your eyes, but smiling.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, there was something there. It wasn’t fear. Or anger. It was… instinct. A raw kind of love — unconditional, protective.

"How do you…" You hugged him, and that took him by surprise. It took Nikto a few seconds to hug you back, but when he did, he stroked your hair with affection. "How do you know it's a boy?"

"Is it?"

"I mean… yeah."

"Perhaps it was just my intuition." He kissed the top of your head, wanting to protect you from the world.

“You will not leave my sight.” His voice had returned to its firm tone. “I will take care of you both. From now on.” And then, for the first time since you met him, Nikto knelt down, making himself vulnerable before you. Lifting your shirt, he pressed his lips to your slightly swollen belly, so gently that it barely seemed real. But it was. It was his promise. No pretty words. Just presence. Just surrender.

Nikto was already a controlling person by nature, but from the moment he found out about your pregnancy, he became a constant shadow by your side. He checks safe routes before you go out, monitors the environment where you sleep, and leaves discreet trackers on everything you wear “just in case.” He doesn’t say, “I’m afraid something will happen,” he just acts—as if he could take on the whole world for you and the baby.

He’s not the type to say, “You look so beautiful carrying my son” but out of nowhere you find a soft blanket on the couch, hot tea on the table, or maternity clothes in your size neatly folded on the bed. When you ask him if that was his doing, he just answers curtly, “Maybe.” But if you insist, he might say, “I like to see you comfortable.” (And he looks down, because that was the most vulnerability he could show that day.)

If you’re lying down and you let out a whimper of pain or discomfort, within seconds he’ll be there, kneeling beside the bed, pressing his hands firmly against your back. He never comments anything, he just keeps going until he feels you’ve relaxed. When you say a weak “thank you” he’ll give you a quick nod and maybe — just maybe — press a kiss against your forehead before leaving the room.

At night, when you are dozing on the couch or in bed, he will slowly come over and, if he is comfortable doing so, he will rub your belly while speaking to the baby in Russian. They are short, almost military phrases, but sweet in his own way: "Your mother is stronger than anyone. You will get this from her." Or even: "You will not know war. I swear."

Even with all his confidence, he sometimes stays silent for long periods, staring at you from afar. When you ask him, he ends up saying something like: “I don’t know if I’m cut out for this. I only know how to fight.” It’s at this moment that you see his most human side. He’s not afraid of war, but he is afraid of failing you. And when you hold his hand and tell him he’s already doing more than enough, he doesn’t respond. He just squeezes your hand tightly — and doesn’t let go.

Simon “Ghost” Riley 

Hot and intense nights became common when the pressure of the world became great enough to suffocate you both.

You sought refuge in sex, night after night indulging your most primitive and sinful desires as a relatively effective, but twisted, way of enduring the horrendous reality of serving the country.

Even though you knew that being careful was relatively far from being part of your routine, you felt the world fall apart when the first symptoms began.

Nausea, fatigue and insecurity had become part of your essence and the fear of the future permeated your soul.

You tried to hide your pregnancy for as long as possible, not wanting to tell Simon, much less your team members.

Bringing an innocent life into the hell you lived was a senseless act. Then why did you feel so much love for someone who hadn't even been born yet?

You were almost four months pregnant when, during a mission, you fainted for no apparent reason. You weren't taking care of yourself enough — eating little, sleeping little and keeping so many secrets to yourself... It came as no surprise to anyone when your body couldn't handle all of that.

"Stay with me... Hey! She needs medical help!" Ghost shouted, looking around desperately, protecting your body as if you were the most fragile thing in the world at that moment.

Your consciousness slowly returned, and you realized that you were being carried by him to a safer place.

"I'm sorry." You stammered, feeling guilty for having interrupted the gathering of such important information.

"Don't apologize. I've never seen you so pale and weak like this, not even on worse missions." You were finally in a calmer place, still alone with him, and before other people entered the room to check on you, you decided it was time to tell him the truth.

"Simon, I..." You hesitated, wondering for a moment if being honest with him was really what you wanted.

"You...?" He encouraged you, squeezing your thigh affectionately, as usual.

"I... I'm pregnant." His eyes widened, and his grip on your thigh tightened, almost hurting you.

"What...?" He mumbled to himself, slowly fitting the pieces of the puzzle together and everything made sense — your extreme sensitivity to the tastes and smells that you usually liked, your endless naps, your hurried and unannounced trips to the bathroom, your lack of complaints about cramps, almost as if you hadn't had your period that month... It all made sense, and his head almost exploded.

"How did I not notice?" He whispered, pulling you close, hugging you tightly as if he wanted to protect you from all the evil in the world. "How far along are you?"

"Almost four months." You mumbled against his chest as he stroked your hair lovingly. "I think it was on your birthday..." 

That night... That fateful night.

"How are you feeling about this?"

"I... I don't know what to think..." Your hands involuntarily went down your body, caressing the slightly swollen belly due to the life that was developing there. "But I love them so much already..."

He smiled against your hair, hugging you tighter, a genuine happiness slowly forming inside his heart.

"I'm scared, Si." You admitted. "I'm scared of bringing them into this world only to suffer and see horrible things like the two of us."

"Hey, don't say that. Even in hell I found you. I found someone worth fighting for and waking up to everyday. Life isn't all bad, you taught me that yourself." You didn't answer, but he understood what you meant.

"Regardless of your decision — whether you’re keeping them or not — I will support you and stay by your side. Until my last breath." And he kissed the top of your head.

You couldn't muster the courage to abort that life. They were the fruit of the love between you and Simon and they were the best thing you had.

So you decided to keep it, to face the consequences of your acts, to carry the responsibility of bringing a life into this world. 

Months passed without you wanting to know the baby's sex, until Simon convinced you to investigate it.

"Guess." You murmured against his lips, your hands cupping his cheeks.

"Hmm, I have a feeling it's a girl." He secretly longed for one. You guided his hand so he could feel the baby moving, kicking you weakly every now and then.

"It's a girl! We're having a little girl, Si!" His heart fluttered with joy.

"Bloody hell, love... Fuck, I love her so much already. I can't wait to finally meet her."

He has a habit of murmuring sweet nothings your swollen stomach as his fingertips caresses the skin of your belly.

He doesn't let you lift a finger to do almost anything and he even asked captain Price not to allow you to leave the base for any more missions. He couldn't bait to lose both of you.

He helps you with your craving and pregnancy pains —  his massages are divine and melt away any tension you may be feeling.

Close to delivery, when you can no longer bear the weight of your very own stomach, he holds your belly gently with both hands, slowly freeing you from the weight of your little girl for a few seconds — seconds that relieve you absurdly.

Actually cries when he sees his baby for the first time — she's just so tiny, all wrapped around a blanket and her baby clothes, her foot is barely the size of his thumb and she's a little carbon copy of him in appearance. He's utterly glad you decided to keep her over five months ago. He couldn't imagine a world where you three didn't exist anymore.

He is completely disarmed by his daughter. He can face any enemy without hesitation, but if she cries in the morning or asks for something with that look in her eyes, he simply melts.

Protection is his second name. He checks locks, cameras, and sleeps lightly, as if he was still in the field. But the truth is that he just wants to make sure that nothing will hurt the two people he loves most in the world.

As your husband (fucking finally, right?), Simon is silent… but constant. He doesn't need big words; he shows it with actions. Coffee ready, blanket pulled up in the middle of the night, arm around waist without saying anything. He is simply perfect.

[sidemari]

hello! how're you? i happened to come across the event and was maybe hoping if you could write sleepy sex w/ dottore? thank you very much in advance! </33

Heyo! I'm good and you? Here's the final post.

[sidemari]

Welcome back Mari!! Hope you've been doing okay and that school gets less tough soon

If i can make one of the requests, can you pretty please do one with Wriothsley and breeding and praise?

Thank you~ sending you good vibes

Heyo! Here it is.

Thank you for your kind words.

[sidemari]

1c1k req

bro i’ll get on my KNEES for soft top kaeya. i know he’s charming but god i ABSOLUTELY need to see him being pathetic in bed. please make him whimper pretty please.

Heyo. Here it is.

I didn't quite understand if you wanted Kaeya or the reader on top, but I wrote him being ridden, lol.

[sidemari]

hii!! for ur genshin nsfw, can i req childe with cnc? :) thank u!

Heyo! Here it is.

[sidemari]

Aloha, i am NomNoms! I would like to request (i am a simple one) Zhongli with edge play please ♡ (Can you use vibrators too? If you're not comfy with, then not) for the event. Thanks you for giving us the opportunity to get into your dms ♡

Thanks for reading and please, dont overwork yourself to much in college! (Its hard i know, that's why i am telling)

NomNoms~

Heyo NomNoms! Here it is.

I'll also work on your other request later. Bye <3

[sidemari]

hihi, saw your requests were open! i was thinking of scaramouche with an afab reader + maybe bdsm and brat taming? 🤔🤔

Heyo! Here it is.

[sidemari]

Hi hi, could I request something w Childe and non-con?

Heyo! Here it is.

[sidemari]

Hello I just saw your genshin nsfw event and I wanted to send an ask(*'▽'*) would you be able to do zhongli x fem reader with dd/lg, breeding, and praise?? (>_>)

Heyo! Here it is.

[sidemari]

I saw your Genshin Post for 1 character. 1 kink, and I'm curious.

May I please request: Diluc, Kaeya, and Ayato with the kinks of bondage, an aphrodisiac (up to you for either non-con or consensual), and overstimulation?

There's something about the way you write these three men that I enjoy reading. They're always so put together, so I enjoy reading about their headspace when they're wicked with their darling or when they fall to pieces. Either works for me.

Just wanted to say thank you for the event! I appreciate it.

Heyo! Here it is.

Thank you for your kind words, I was kinda obsessed while writing Diluc's part.

[sidemari]

Hii! For the event I was thinking ninnguang(If you write her) x Fem!Reader with A bit of exhibitionism! It can go any way you want it to! Maybe make Ninnguang and reader have an argument since reader is a bit bratty, something like that!

Heyo! Here it is.

[sidemari]

• After Dark •

A NSFW compilation of short texts (not so short) about their kinks. This could also be called "1 character, 1 kink".

Characters included: Childe, Diluc Ragnvindr, Dottore, Kaeya Alberich, Kamisato Ayato, Ningguang, Scaramouche, Wriothesley and Zhongli [separately] x Fem/AFAB/GN!Reader 

TW: Aphrodisiacs; BDSM dynamics; bondage; brat taming; breeding kink; consensual non-con; creampie; DD/LG; dirty talk; edging; exhibitionism; fingering; masturbation; oral sex (F/M receiving); overstimulation; praise kink; sub/dom dynamics; vibrators; unprotected sex. Let me know if I missed any.

WC: 10k+ (all of the stories together, of course).

Forgive me for any mistakes, I'm exhausted, and I won't read this giant post over again for the next few weeks, lol.

Childe 

Consensual non-con. (Fem!Reader) 

You were lying on the sheets, your wrists tied above your head with a bow he had tied himself — tight enough to keep the fantasy alive, but soft enough not to hurt you.

“Look what we have here…” Tartaglia’s voice sounded deep and theatrical, as if he were playing a character. He was looking down at you with a wild glint in his eyes, the crooked smile of someone who was having fun — but with his heart pounding with desire and zeal for you. You squirmed, trying hard to look scared, even though you knew that was exactly what he wanted.

“P-Please… Don’t do this…” You whispered, trembling on purpose, playing the role perfectly.

“You should know that you can’t tease someone like me and still get away with it, princess…” He growled, pulling your legs to the edge of the bed. The way his eyes bored into yours, even when he was playing his role, was still full of adoration. “It’s too late to regret it now.”

The sheets under you were damp with some of the essence that insisted on seeping from you, due to your anticipation. Your nipples were hard beneath the thin fabric of your nightgown, and he noticed every reaction — every little sign that you wanted this as much as he did. 

“You’re so wet…” He commented as he slid his fingers between your legs. “You’re begging me with that little body, even though you’re saying ‘no’ with your mouth.” He leaned in and whispered against your ear, “But I know your body better than anyone, my love. I know when it’s desperate for me.”

“P-Please, don’t do this to m-me… I’m… so sorry for—” But he didn’t let you finish. He thrust into you hard, in one motion, eliciting a scream from you that was a mix of shock and pleasure. You arched your body, pulling at the sheets, feeling the heat rise like an overwhelming wave.

“Beg me.” He ordered, his voice hoarse with lust. “Tell me you need it. That you can’t live without my cock ravishing your cunt.”

“Ajax, please, use me… Fuck me until I can’t think anymore…” You moaned, your eyes moist, no longer from pretense, but from real, deep pleasure. His hips moved with rhythm and strength, your name escaping between his lips. The act had already given way to surrender — the game was exciting, but what made it all intense was the trust between you.

He leaned in, his red hair wet with sweat, his eyes fixed on yours.

“Is everything okay?” He asked softly, breaking character for a moment, just to be sure.

You nodded with a lascivious smile. “I can still take much more, love…”

And he provided that to you, until your legs were trembling, until your eyes watered with pleasure, until your voice broke. And when it was all over, he released you with loving hands, kissing each mark and scratch, wrapping you in his arms as if you were fragile. 

“It was perfect.” He whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Diluc Ragnvindr

Bondage. (Fem!Reader) 

The flames in the fireplace cast warm shadows over the stone walls of the room. The unmistakable aroma of wine and wood filled the room, and the silence was broken only by the soft crackling of the fire. You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing, your eyes attentive to Diluc’s every move as he walked back towards you. 

He looked even more imposing under the golden light, his red hair loose over his shoulders and an expression that mixed concentration with restrained desire. In his hands, he held the red satin strips that you had timidly suggested the night before. 

“Are you sure about this?” He asked in a low, husky voice, kneeling before you. His hands caressed your thighs gently, reverently, as if preparing the ground for something deeper. “I only want this if you want it too.” You nodded, your face hot, your breath shallow.

“Yes. I do. Just… just take care of me.” A small smile appeared on his lips — a rare, intimate smile that made your chest tighten. 

“Always.”

Patiently, Diluc led you to the center of the bed. His kisses came slow, intense, as he took his time to undress you, piece by piece, as if each button and strap were a ritual. When you were naked beneath the fine linen sheets, he pulled away just enough to tie your wrists with the satin, crossing them over your head and securing them firmly to the headboard.

“Let me know if it’s too tight.” He said, caressing the skin of your arms, his dark eyes assessing your expression every second. You felt the knot tighten securely, but it didn’t hurt. It was firm… comforting, even. You trusted him. You always had.

Diluc lay back down beside you, his fingers gliding over the curves of your bound body, his eyes exploring every detail as if he were memorizing the landscape of the woman he loved. He leaned in, kissing your collarbone, your jaw, until your lips parted reflexively.

“You’re so beautiful like this…” He murmured against your skin. “Surrendered, only mine.”

His words made something inside you melt, even more so when his hand went down between your legs and found you already wet, hot and pulsing.

“Already so wet… I’ve barely touched you.” He chuckled softly, a deep, satisfied sound, before pressing his thumb against your clit and making slow, teasing circles. Your hips moved instinctively, but he held them back with his other hand, holding you in place.

“No.” The word was spoken tenderly, but full of command. “I’m the one in control here.”

You bit your lip, arching your back with a restrained moan. Tied up and exposed, each touch felt more intense. Diluc knew that. He knew your body like no one else. His fingers danced between torture and pleasure, making you writhe under the delicate control he masterfully exercised. His breathing was also heavier, his dark eyes fixed on your face, capturing every reaction. He alternated soft caresses with firmer touches, sometimes leaning in to kiss your breasts, sometimes whispering praises in your ear: 

“You endure so much for me… so obedient…” 

“You’re driving me crazy like this…” 

“I need to hear you beg, love.” 

You felt yourself getting close. Your body trembled, your muscles contracted, your orgasm building like an inevitable storm. But then, just as the wave began to rise, he stopped. He removed his fingers, went back to kissing your neck, leaving you on the edge — dragging your pleasure with refinement and intention. 

“D-Diluc, please…” You whimpered, your eyes watering, your body arching toward him. “Don’t stop…”

“You haven’t reached your limit yet,” He replied quietly, his voice low and husky, his fingertips tracing your abdomen. “I want you to need this. To really beg for me.” You panted, your body too hot and sensitive. Each pause was sweet torture, a flame that burned without consuming — until the desire became something deeper, more urgent. And then, when you finally moaned his name, begging without pride or shame, he smiled.

“Good girl.” He positioned himself between your legs, kissing you hungrily, his entire body pressing against yours. The heat of his skin, his weight, the firmness with which he held your hips — everything about him was absolute. When he finally entered you, slow, deep, your body cried out in relief. It was as if everything fell into place — as if the universe were spinning on its axis again. He groaned softly, his lips against your neck, his hips moving with a rhythm that was torturous, but felt so good.

“You’re perfect. So tight… You take me so well…” His voice was hoarse from pleasure. “You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this… about you, trapped, moaning my name…”

The restraints kept you from touching him, but that only made everything more intense. You felt vulnerable and adored at the same time. His thrusts became harder, but the bed creaked in protest as he lost himself in you.

“Look at me.” He pulled your face with one hand. “I want to see your eyes when you come for me.” And you obeyed. There was no other choice, no other destiny, no other name to say but his as your body shattered with pleasure — the orgasm ripping through every inch of you hot, overwhelming. Diluc continued for a few more seconds, until he spilled himself inside you, trembling, his face hidden in your neck.

When your breathing returned to normal, he carefully untied your wrists, kissing every red mark left by the satin. His fingers caressed your arms, your hair, your waist.

“You were wonderful,” He murmured, pulling you to his chest. “Thank you for trusting me.” You smiled, tired, satisfied, whole. In the flames dancing in the fireplace, everything seemed safe. Everything was love.

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 

You were sitting on the couch in Diluc’s private library, wrapped in a light robe, your body still tingling from the wine he had brought. But it wasn’t just any wine. It tasted exotic, sweet and spicy — with something that made you feel warm from the first sip.

Your heart beated faster, your skin felt more sensitive, and every glance Diluc made in your direction made your breath falter. He was there, standing in front of the bookshelf, watching you with those intense red eyes, like embers about to catch fire. There was a small smile on the corner of his lips — a smile that betrayed that he knew exactly what he had done. 

“This wine…” You began, your voice lower than you expected. “There’s something more to it, isn’t there?” Diluc approached slowly, his hands in his jacket pockets, his eyes fixed on yours. 

“It’s a special batch. Made from a rare variety of fruits grown in the fertile soil of Sumeru. Some say it… stimulates the senses.” He stopped in front of you, leaning down just enough to touch your chin with two fingers. “Do you feel it?”

You nodded, your lips parted, the heat growing in your lower belly like a fire slowly spreading. He gently removed the robe from your shoulders, exposing your skin to the warm air of the room.

“You look so beautiful like this… all flushed, breathless…” He knelt between your legs, his fingers sliding up your bare thigh. “Sensitive.” His lips brushed against your skin, each kiss sending electric waves to the core of your body. It was as if each touch of his tripled in intensity. The wine, or whatever it was, made your body beg for more — made you writhe under the softest caresses, yearning for something that had yet to come.

He pulled your legs up to his shoulders with ease and buried his face between your thighs, his hot tongue sliding inside you with precision, firmness, and calculated pleasure. It was almost cruel, the way he used his mouth — as if he studied your reaction to every movement. You moaned, your hands going to his hair out of reflex, but he held them with one of his large hands, keeping you in place.

“Stay still,” He murmured against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

And you tried. But it was impossible not to writhe, not to moan, not to beg. The heat was too much. Your body throbbed, hungry, desperate for release. And when you were finally on the edge, arching your back and gripping the seat under you, Diluc stopped. His red eyes rose to yours, hungry, and a little cruel.

He stripped off his own clothes, revealing the strength contained beneath his formal attire, his muscles defined in the firelight. When he lay down on top of you, the heat of your two bodies met like a spark in gunpowder. He entered you slowly, filling you completely, and you both gasped in unison.

“You’re… tight,” he whispered through his teeth. “Like you’ve been waiting for me for days.” His movements began slowly, deeply, and you felt every inch of him as if it were the first time. The aphrodisiac made your body vibrate, your skin tingle, your senses plunge into a pleasurable torpor. It was impossible to control your moans, the way your body trembled beneath him, the way your hips sought more. Diluc bent down, kissing your neck, your shoulder, biting carefully. 

“Are you this sensitive because of me? Because I filled you with that wine, knowing what I would do to you later?” The answer escaped like a sob of pleasure. 

“Yes…” He increased his pace, his movements more intense, the sound of skin against skin echoing in the muffled room. His hands held your waist firmly, keeping you in place as your body was taken deeper, faster, harder.

“You’re mine,” he whispered against your mouth. “Only mine. I want you like this… writhing in pleasure, calling my name, begging for more.” You couldn’t think, speak or breathe properly. The pleasure came like violent waves, and when it arrived, it was overwhelming. Your body arched, your eyes rolled back, your moans were lost in Diluc’s mouth as he also spilled himself inside you, with a low, hoarse grunt, full of pleasure.

He stayed there for a while, still on top of you, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair. Then, he pulled you to his chest, covering the two of you with a blanket.

“Next time,” He said with a satisfied smile, “I’ll use a smaller dose. Or maybe not.”

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 

The night had started slowly. Calm kisses, hands exploring patiently, and tender whispers exchanged under the soft light that entered through the mansion’s windows. Diluc was always meticulous with everything he did, and with you it was no different. He made love like someone who appreciates a rare wine — slowly, savoring your every reaction, every sigh.

But that night, there was something more. A glint in his eyes, something hungry, that made your entire body react even before the first most intimate touch. He wanted more — and he wanted you to feel more.

Your eyes met his for a moment, and all you could do was nod, already feeling the heat begin to pulse in your belly. Diluc smiled — not that gentle smile of his usual, but a slower one, full of dangerous promises.

The sheets were rumpled beneath you, your hair spread across the pillow as he settled himself between your legs again. You had already gotten there — not once, but twice. Your body was trembling, sensitive, a little fragile under the touch of his hands… but still hungry.

“Look how wet you still are for me,” He whispered, sliding two fingers inside you, slowly, almost reverently. You gasped, your body reacting with small spasms, as if you were on edge — and you were.

“Diluc…” Your voice was broken, pleading, but he just smiled and lay back down between your thighs. The first touches of his tongue were almost unbearable. Your skin reacted with small tremors, the pleasure coming fast, too aggressive, as if every nerve was screaming with the accumulated intensity. You tried to close your legs, instinctively, but he held them firmly.

“Don’t run away now, my dear,” He said in an almost serious tone, looking at you with his red eyes burning with desire. “You can handle it. I know you can.”

And he went back to licking, slow and deep, exploring you with the precision that only he had. His hands held your thighs open, pinning you to the bed as if he wouldn’t let you escape for even a second. Your head threw back on the pillow, moans escaping loudly, uninhibited, because you could no longer control anything.

It was too much. Everything was too much. His mouth, the heat, the perfect and cruel rhythm, the feeling of being consumed entirely. Your entire body trembled, and when the orgasm arrived — a third, overwhelming one — he didn’t even give you time to breathe.

“Diluc, please… I… I can’t take it…” You whimpered, almost sobbing, your body contracting as if you were running away and searching for more at the same time.

“Of course you can,” He murmured, his fingers now replacing his mouth. Two firm fingers, thrusting in and out of you at a torturous pace, while his other hand caressed your clit with soft, rhythmic circular strokes. “You’re so good for me… you always give me everything.”

You whimpered fearlessly, shamelessly — your moans mixing with disjointed words, your eyes watering. Each wave of pleasure was more intense than the last, each one stealing a piece of your air, your strength. And yet… you didn’t want him to stop.

Diluc was visibly aroused by your surrender. His eyes were glued to your body, to the way you trembled and moaned and begged. He climbed on top of you, pressing your body against his, and aligned himself with your entrance again — hot, hard, hungry.

“One more,” He whispered against your mouth, his lips crashing to yours in a searing kiss. “Just one more for me, love…” And when he entered you, everything went blank for a second. Your body, which already seemed about to collapse. He moved with force, with need, each thrust deep and accurate. The sound of your bodies colliding filled the room, his moans mixing with yours as he held your face, his eyes fixed on yours. 

Your entire body exploded in pleasure once more, with such intensity that tears escaped your eyes. You moaned loudly, your whole body arching, your hands gripping the sheets as if you were going to come undone.

Diluc hugged you tightly, burying his face in your neck when he came too, with a hoarse moan. His body shuddered against yours, and then everything was quiet for a moment — just your hearts beating fast, your breathless, sweaty, and exhausted.

He kissed your forehead gently, running his fingers through your heat-soaked hair.

You smiled against his chest, your body still trembling, but completely sated.

Dottore 

Sleepy sex. (Fem!Reader)

The lab finally fell silent. Vials still pulsed with faint blue glows, remnants of some unstable mixture he had decided to leave for the next day. For the first time in hours — maybe days — Dottore was without his mask and his impenetrable posture. Just a man with heavy eyes and slow breathing, slumped on the couch in the next room, his shirt half open and his hair still a little messy from the last time he ran his hands through it.

You approach him silently. He knows it’s you even before he opens his eyes, and he murmurs something hoarse, low, almost swallowed by fatigue.

“You should be sleeping…” But his arms open anyway, as if his body were defying its own order.

When you lie down next to him, he immediately pulls you onto his lap, burying his face in your neck as if he were trying to hide from the world. There’s something curious there — he seems more fragile than you’re used to seeing. The defenses that always make him so hard to read were now slowly melting away in the heat of your skin.

“You calm me down.” He confesses softly, between warm kisses on your shoulder. His voice is still slurred, half-sleepy, but the desire… that was already starting to boil beneath the surface. His hands slide down your thighs more slowly than usual, as if he were too lazy to let go of his control — but also without the slightest desire to resist you. Each touch of his is a little more needy than technical. You see him without any armor, and yet so sure of himself, even tired.

Your lips meet slowly. It’s a lazy, slurred kiss… but full of that typical Dottore intensity. He murmurs against your mouth:

“Do you want this now?” And when you respond with a whispered yes, he sighs as if he already knows. “Of course you do. You always know how to make me weak…”

The excitement grows between kisses and touches exchanged in silence, almost respecting the tiredness that weighs on both bodies. Still, there is something delicious in losing yourself like this — in bodies intertwined without haste, in moans muffled by the pillow, in panting breaths that mix.

Dottore’s surrendered more than ever. With half-open eyes, he observes your every reaction, even as he moans softly as he feels you mount him with the calm of someone who knows all the shortcuts to your pleasure. His hands hold your hips, sometimes tightly, sometimes just caressing you with his fingertips, as if he wanted to prolong that moment as much as possible.

You move your hips slowly, feeling every inch of him, feeling how his body trembles beneath yours.

“You’re driving me crazy…” He says, his voice deep and broken.

“Then go crazy with me.” You reply. And he does exactly that.

There, between the rumpled sheets and the drowsy smell of experiments and desire, Dottore lets himself go. Cumming with you on top of him is almost cathartic, as if his own body were thanking you for letting him come undone like that — tired, vulnerable, but satisfied.

Then, he keeps you there, lying on his chest, fingers drawing circles on your spine. The drowsiness is now real, deep… but in the midst of the torpor, he still says with an almost choked voice:

“You are the only experiment I never want to end.”

Kaeya Alberich 

You being on top. (Fem!Reader)  

He loves to tease. You know that. Just look at him, with that crooked smile and his blue eyes sparkling with mischief. But behind the sharp words and calculated charm, there is something else — something that only you know.

It is the Kaeya who moans softly when you hold his chin firmly and tell him to stay still and obey. It is the Kaeya who shudders when you push him against the bed and ride him at your own pace, making sure to control every moan, every sigh, every tremor of his body.

“Are you that sensitive already?” You ask, feigning innocence as you move over him, slowly burying his cock deep inside you, staying there for a few seconds, grinding your hips against his, before starting the movements all again. He bites his lip, his eyes moist with pleasure — that pleasure that burns in his chest, that almost hurts because it feels so good.

“You’re going to kill me, love… I can’t take it—”

“Yes, you will. You’ll take it because I want you to.” And he obeys. Always.

He loves seeing you on top — literally and emotionally. He loves when you hold his wrists against the mattress and straddle him with a sweet, dangerous smile on your lips. He loves feeling his entire body begging for release, while you deny it, only to see him begging for more.

“Touch me… Please, just a little—” His voice breaks, choking, and he turns his face away, ashamed of his own weakness. But you hold his chin, forcing him to look you in the eyes. “Or else… At least let me touch you…” His hands struggle against yours, winning and lifting one of them to touch your breast, squeezing it devotedly. You pull his hand away, preventing him from touching your body under the threat that you wouldn’t let him cum if he did.

“Look how beautiful you are like this… Whimpering and almost crying just because I’m giving you pleasure in my own way.” The moan that escapes him is almost a sob. A muffled sound, drenched in emotion and desire. You don't need to do anything else — just exist, and he's already surrendered.

“Can I?” He bit his lip, trying to hold your hips only to have you slap his hands away.

“Can you what? Use your words, Alberich.” Heavens, iit was so good to see him like this, escaping his dominant and sharp personality.

“C-Can I cum? I'm so close, p-please…” Your movements became faster and your own hands guided his so that one of them stimulated your clit while the other squeezed one of your breasts, teasing your nipple every now and then. That was your way of saying — without words — that he could cum. And he did, becoming a whimpering mess under you.

“Remind me to tease you more often if you're going to treat me like this.” He murmured, before pulling you off of him so that you two could switch positions. “Now I need some revenge, right?”

Bondage. (Fem!Reader) 

You were there, your wrists tied above your head, your back against the mattress, your body exposed and heated by his voice. Kaeya was an expert at seduction, but with you… he sometimes left a little teasing aside, just to show how much he knew what he was doing.

“Don’t worry, love,” He whispered, adjusting the tie on your wrists with surprising care. “If you want me to stop, just say so. But something tells me you won’t.”

The fabric he used to restrain you was soft, allowing it to be firm enough to impede most of your movements. His kisses spread like slow fire — down your neck, against your collarbone, across the curve of your breasts. Your eyes returned to his for a second, and Kaeya gave you that mischievous and affectionate smile, his fingers sliding between your legs, teasing you just enough to make you gasp.

“Look at you… You’re already so ready, and I barely touched you.” His fingers penetrated your folds, curving to reach your g-spot with ease and mastery. It was almost as if he had memorized your body: every curve, every sensitive spot. Teasing was a game he mastered. 

Then he bent down and devoured you with his mouth while his fingers didn't stop their movements. His tongue lapped at you with a precision that made you writhe, tied up, completely helpless in the face of the pleasure he administered with dedication.

"Stay still for me, darling," He murmured against your sex, his dark blue eyes fixed on yours. "Let me take care of everything." And you let him. 

The world was reduced to his hands, his mouth, the weight of his body on yours. He made you ask — not beg, because he knew the difference. He wanted to see you surrendered, but with pride, surrendered to him because you trusted him, not because you were forced. And that made him crazy with desire. 

When he finally entered you, your moans mingled with his, muffled by deep kisses. The thrusts were firm, constant, followed by sweet and dirty words in equal measure.

"Just like that… You're mine, all mine. I'm going to remind you of that every time you cum around me." And you both came, strong and overwhelming, the waves of pleasure washing over your bodies. He released you afterwards, with gentle hands, worried eyes, covering you with kisses and caresses.

"Did I tie you up too tightly?" He asked, caressing your cheek affectionately.

"No, I like it when you do that." You kissed the corner of his mouth. "Can we go again?"

"Always."

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 

You didn’t know exactly what he had put in that wine — but you knew he wouldn’t do anything you didn’t want. Kaeya was a tease, but he loved you. He loved the way you trusted him even when your eyes were clouded with desire, even when your body trembled for more.

“Just a touch of something special,” He whispered against your lips, holding the glass that was still between his fingers. “Something to... ignite what’s already burning.”

The drink tasted sweet, almost fruity, but the effect was immediate: your skin tingled, every heartbeat seemed to echo between your legs, and Kaeya’s presence, with his scent, his smile, and his cool fingers against your warm skin, became unbearably addictive. 

He noticed the effect, of course he did. He sat behind you, pulling you onto his lap calmly, his chest against your back, his hands traveling over your body, mapping it with care and intention.

“It’s hot, hm? It’s the aphrodisiac... But it’s also me.” He chuckled softly, kissing the side of your neck. “Your body knows who it wants.” 

You moaned softly when his hands reached your breasts, squeezing them gently, his thumbs playing with your nipples through your thin clothing. Your hips moved unintentionally, seeking friction, relief — and Kaeya guided you with pleasure.

“You’re sensitive... So beautiful like this. I could make you cum with a touch.” 

He laid you down with all the care in the world, removing each piece of clothing with lingering kisses. His fingers stimulated your sex just enough to make you shiver, and he smiled, fascinated by the intensity of your reaction.

The aphrodisiac pulsed in your blood like fire, and Kaeya enjoyed every second — with patience, with precision, with desire. His touch was the final dose: you came with just his fingers and tongue, your entire body arching in response.

“That’s it...” He whispered, between kisses on your belly, moving up to your lips. “I want to make you come like this again and again.” And he really did.

With his body pressed against yours, his eyes fixed on yours, Kaeya penetrated you slowly, moaning with the pleasure of being inside you — and feeling how hot, tight, desperate you were. You scratched his back, and he moaned back, asking for more.

“It’s my fault,” He murmured with a dirty smile. “I left you like this... and now I’m going to fix it.” 

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 

He had already made you cum once. Then twice. And now your body felt like it was about to collapse under his every new touch.

“Kaeya… P-Please…” You moaned, your voice broken by the excess of pleasure, by the tremors that ran through your open legs, still exposed to him.

But he didn’t stop.

His tongue moved slowly over your clit, as if savoring your every reaction, every involuntary spasm, every breathless sob that escaped your lips.

“You can still take more, can’t you?” He asked in a low voice, his lips wet with your essence, his eyes half-closed and hungry. “Your body is begging me even if your mouth says otherwise.”

You tried to close your legs, but his arms were firm, keeping them apart. Kaeya was gentle, but determined. The pleasure was already unbearable — and yet, you wanted more. 

“You look so beautiful when you crumble like that,” He whispered, before lapping at you again more firmly, his fingers sliding inside you with ease, curling at the exact spot that made you gasp. Your back arched once more, the orgasm ripping through your body with force. He felt it and smiled, because he knew there was more to come.

“How many times can I make you cum before you pass out in my arms?” He murmured against your skin, kissing your inner thigh, his fingers still inside you, moving slowly, as if he was testing the limits of your sensitivity. 

You whimpered, struggling weakly, your body already too sensitive, your clit throbbing, your mind clouded by so much pleasure.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” He whispered, moving up to your lips and kissing you tenderly. “You’re doing so well...” Kaeya entered you slowly, feeling how you trembled, how your body pulsed around him, completely surrendered. He moaned against your mouth, pleasure consuming him too. 

“Let me take you to the edge… Just one more time.” He asked, his voice choking with desire and affection. “I’ll take care of you later, I promise.”

And you let him. Because there, even in the midst of the chaos of absolute pleasure, Kaeya was your safe haven — even when he made you forget your own name with yet another orgasm that made you see stars.

Kamisato Ayato 

Bondage. (Fem!Reader)

You had lost count of how many times Ayato had told you that he loved seeing you surrendered to him. But there was something in the way he said it — with that serene smile, his clear eyes fixed on yours — that made everything inside you warm. With him, even submission was wrapped in elegance and reverence. And that night, the touch of the silk tying your wrists only confirmed that.

The softness of the sheets contrasted with the gentle tension of the ribbons that held your arms above your head, firmly on the back of the bed. Your legs, equally spread and immobilized with delicacy, made you feel vulnerable... and deeply desired.

Ayato was kneeling between your legs, impeccable even in that intimate moment. No part of him seemed out of control — everything was calculated, refined, even the way he ran his fingers through the ties to check if they were tight enough without hurting your skin.

“You trust me, don’t you?” He asked softly, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your lips sweetly.

“Of course I do.” You replied, your voice trembling with anticipation.

“Good girl.” He whispered with a crooked smile that made your stomach turn. “Then let me guide you tonight.” His hands were as gentle as they were firm. He began exploring your skin with light touches, trailing his fingers along the curves of your body, slowly moving downward. He kissed each spot patiently, with a silent adoration that made your skin shiver from head to toe. And then he stopped, observing your bound body as if it were the most precious of works of art.

“You look so beautiful like this... exposed just for me.” He said in a low tone, almost like a prayer. “Every sigh you take, every shiver... it’s all mine.”

You gasped as you felt the tip of his tongue slide down your belly, rising to the base of your breasts, where he stopped to nibble lightly. The restraints made it impossible for you to try to squirm, and that only made each touch intensify. You were surrendered, and he knew it.

Ayato brought his fingers to your intimacy, touching slowly, exploratively. Your hips moved, an involuntary reaction to the growing pleasure, but he held you firmly.

And with that, he bent down, his tongue taking the place of his fingers. Ayato’s tongue was a precision weapon. He knew exactly where to lick, where to suck, when to speed up and when to stop just to watch you writhe, begging for more.

The tension of the tapes on your wrists made each sensation even more vivid. Your senses were heightened, your body reacting to each stimulus as if it were the first. Your moans became pleas, and when the first orgasm came, you practically cried out in pleasure, trembling under his touch.

He climbed up your body, his chest pressed against yours, his eyes staring into yours with a glow that was both hungry and calm at the same time. 

"You're not done yet," He whispered, his lips almost touching yours. "Not until I say so."

And then he positioned himself and penetrated you slowly, with an almost cruel slowness. You were so sensitive that the simple act of feeling him inside you drew a loud moan. He moved firmly, controlling each thrust, watching every expression on your face, as if memorizing every nuance of yours.

The silk ribbons held your arms in place, and that only intensified everything. You couldn't touch him, couldn't pull him closer, only feel — and obey.

“You’re mine.” He whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “So obedient, so perfect for me…” The climax came again, even stronger, making your vision blur for seconds. Your entire body trembled, sweat stuck the strands of hair to your forehead, and all you could do was call his name, as if it were all that mattered in the world.

And when he finally came undone on top of you, with a low, satisfied groan, Ayato wrapped his arms around you, whispering praises, loosening each bond with affection. His kisses were now tender, and he murmured between one touch and another:

“You were wonderful... as always.”

Aphrodisiacs. (Fem!Reader) 

The evening began with a treat. Ayato appeared with a small, ornate wooden box adorned with the Yashiro Commission seal and a delicate silver-blue bow. He handed it to you with a restrained smile, but his eyes — always so serene — gleamed with something more mischievous.

“A special Sumeru delicacy.” He explained, sitting down next to you. “Sweets made from the nectar of a flower called the Nilotpala Lotus. They are known for their… stimulating properties.” You looked at him with a mix of curiosity and amused trepidation. 

“Stimulating how?” Ayato smiled, taking one of the small candies with graceful fingers and bringing it to your mouth. 

“Why don’t you try it and find out?” Your distrust didn’t last long. You always trusted him — and besides, the scent emanating from the little box was sweet, delicate, and enveloping, like jasmine with a hint of honey. When you bit into the first sweet, a warm wave ran through your body. It wasn’t just the taste — melting on your tongue like silk — but the sensation that was slowly spreading through your limbs. Heat. Sensitivity. A silent awakening in every spot of your skin. Ayato watched, enchanted by every expression that took over your face. 

“It’s starting to take effect, isn’t it?”

You nodded, taking a deep breath. 

“It’s like… my body is more alive.”

“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

He moved closer, his fingers gliding along your bare thigh with reverence. The contact made you hold your breath — a simple touch sending shivers that seemed to run down your spine. Ayato smiled with silent pleasure, as if appreciating the fruits of a carefully laid plan.

“You’re so sensitive… so receptive.” His lips touched your collarbone, then your neck. “Every part of you is begging for attention.”

Gently, he laid you down on the sheets, pulling the fabric of your robe with slowness. The cool air against your exposed skin contrasted with the heat building inside. Ayato took his time — he explored every inch of you with kisses and caresses that set you on fire. He knew your body like no one else and seemed determined to enjoy every second.

When his mouth found the curve between your legs, you gasped. His tongue was patient, meticulous, eliciting reactions heightened by the sweets. It was as if his every touch was magnified tenfold — and you couldn’t escape the sensation.

“Ayato—!” You moaned, your hands gripping the sheets.

“Yes,” He murmured between kisses, “I want you to say my name like that. I need to hear you come undone for me.” His fingers gripped your thigh more firmly, preventing any movement. Each lick was a delicious torture, each pause a subtle punishment. You felt the muscles in your stomach contract, the heat between your legs growing until it became unbearable.

“Please... more...”

“More?” He teased, looking up with that calm smile. “But I’ve barely begun.” When he finally entered you, with the same careful rhythm, your bodies fit together as they always did — perfectly. But now, with the aphrodisiac coursing through your veins, it was all too much. Too intense. Too pleasurable. Each thrust was deep, calculated, and you whimpered in pleasure, completely surrendered to this man who never lost control — except when he wanted to make you lose yours.

“You’re so beautiful like this... all surrendered, all mine.” He whispered against your ear, the sound of his voice like velvet on your skin.

Your orgasms came in waves, shaking your body with force and he was there, steady, attentive, guiding you through it all, as if it were the only thing that mattered in the world. In the end, he held you against his chest, running his fingers through your sweat-dampened hair.

“Maybe we should bring more of those sweets home.” He whispered. “Or maybe… you only react like that to me.”

Overstimulation. (Fem!Reader) 

The night was silent inside the Kamisato residence, and the intimacy of Ayato’s room seemed separated from the rest of the world. Candles in thin holders cast soft shadows on the walls, and the light scent of sakura petals invaded the room through the half-open window. You knew him well — every subtle expression, every restrained gesture. And you knew exactly how to make him lose that control.

Ayato lay on his back on the futon, his hair slightly messed up by the silk pillow. The blue yukata he wore was loose, his chest partially exposed, rising and falling with his already irregular breathing. 

“Are you comfortable?” You asked, your voice soft as you caressed his abdomen with your fingertips.

“Yes,” He replied, his tone low, almost a whisper. “But you… are playing a dangerous game, my dear.” You smiled, leaning in to kiss his collarbone. 

“Maybe I am.” Your fingers slowly moved down, tracing the length of his cock before wrapping your hand around it with precision. The moan that escaped Ayato’s lips was suppressed, but you felt his body shudder.You  started slow, almost lazy, and his eyes closed as his hips lifted, seeking more. 

Your tongue collected the pre-cum that leaked from the tip of his cock, tasting it before taking his length into your mouth, sucking just the tip before sucking him completely — the head of his cock hitting your throat and making you choke on sinful sounds.

“You’re already so sensitive…” You murmured, watching his skin react, his entire body arch in response.

“You… always know how to disarm me, don’t you?” He said with a crooked smile, trying to maintain his composure even though his toes were already twitching.

The first time he came was quick: he’d been on edge since the very first touch of you — hot spurts of cum hitting your throat, and you drank all of him with need. But you didn’t stop. You continued to stimulate him, now with slower, delicately torturous movements from your hand, that stroked his cock with devotion. Ayato gasped, his neck and back arching. 

“Wait… ah! You’re teasing me—”

“I’m taking care of you.” You whispered, caressing the side of his face. “You always take care of everyone and everything. Now it’s your turn to surrender, Ayato.”

The second time came with more difficulty. He groaned your name, his hips shaking as the pleasure coursed through him again, this time more intense, more desperate. His eyes were watering, and you leaned in to kiss away the silent tears that trickled from the corners of his eyes.

“You’re doing so well,” You praised, and he shivered all over at the compliment whispered in his ear. “So beautiful, so obedient.” Ayato smiled, his lips trembling, his cheeks flushed. “You’re cruel, love…” You just laughed softly. 

“Cruel? Never. I am devoted. To your pleasure, at least.” And when he reached his third orgasm — shaking, sobbing, completely lost in the touch, in the words, in the suffocating intimacy of that room — you wrapped your arms around him, kissing his forehead tenderly.

“You were perfect,” You whispered, stroking his hair as he caught his breath. Ayato smiled, tired, satisfied. 

“I love you.” He murmured against your neck.

“And I love seeing you like this… All mine.” 

Ningguang 

Exhibitionism. (GN!Reader) 

It was night in Liyue, and the high moon was shedding its silvery light over the rooftops of the Jade Chamber, making everything even more luxurious and enchanting. You were there, alone with her, after a long day. Ningguang, as always, maintained her impeccable posture, sitting elegantly on the divan in the center of the hall with large windows, which offered a full view of the city below.

"Close the door." She said, her voice like silk, low and sure. "And stay where you are. Don't come any closer yet."

You obeyed, not understanding at first, but soon your eyes fixed on the way she stood up. The soft light illuminated her contours as she slowly dropped the white robe she was wearing, revealing the scarlet lingerie, convenient, tailored. It was delicate, lacy, with small provocative slits on the sides. She turned to the side, purposefully, knowing exactly how the curve of her waist and hips would steal your attention.

“I spend my days being admired by everyone. Desirous glances, restrained suggestions. But tonight,” She walked to the glass windows and stood there, facing the city, “Only you will see me like this... and only you will be able to touch me... When I allow it.”

The position was daring. Anyone with a well-positioned around that building could, in theory, see that enchanting silhouette through the windows. But Ningguang didn’t seem worried. She was in complete control of the situation — and you knew she wanted it that way.

She glanced over her shoulder, her red lipstick contrasting with her pale skin and her steady gaze.

“You like seeing me like this, don’t you?” You nodded, your breath catching in your throat.

Then, with calculated slowness, she reached for the clasp of her bra and unclasped it, letting the garment slide off her shoulders. Her exposed breasts were exposed under the moonlight, and the view was as mesmerizing as it was forbidden. She didn’t cover anything, showing herself with all the naturalness of someone who controls her own desires — and those of others.

“You’re so quiet…” She teased. “Did the image of me undressing for you in front of all of Liyue leave you speechless?” Her hands then went down her own thighs, until she reached her panties. She didn’t take them off right away. She just moved them a little to the side, revealing just enough to drive you crazy with desire. Her fingers slid there, and an almost silent moan escaped her lips. She touched herself in front of you, slowly, with evident pleasure. “Stay there. And just look. I want you to learn... that my lust is a gift I grant you.” 

Little by little, her body began to move more rhythmically, her hips undulating slightly against her hand, her moans becoming more frequent, although muffled by her ladylike composure. She arched her back against the glass, knowing that this accentuated every curve, every tremor, every breath.

You wanted to touch her. You wanted to be part of it, but she hadn’t let you yet. Then she stopped all stimulation abruptly, earning a curious look from you. She turned slowly, her hair fanning out over her bare back as her gaze met yours — steady, warm, with a glow of victory. 

“Come.” She said, holding out a hand. “You’ve endured my teasing well. Now you can worship me up close.” 

Scaramouche (Wanderer) 

BDSM, brat-taming. (AFAB!Reader) 

You teased him. You knew exactly what you were doing — every defiant look, every insolent retort, every cheeky smile. You knew Scaramouche wouldn’t let you off the hook. And that was exactly what you wanted. 

He sat cross-legged, watching you with feigned boredom and a sharp glint in his eyes. The silence was thick in the room, until he leaned forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees, and spoke in a low, harsh voice: 

“Say one more word in that tone, and I’ll make you regret every syllable.” You smiled. Sweet, defiant. 

“What if I want to be punished?” It was too fast. In the blink of an eye, he was on his feet. You barely had time to step back before you were gently pushed back against the bed, your body restrained firmly. His fingers gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him. 

“You don’t want punishment. You want attention. And you’re begging for it in the most childish way possible.” He growled. “But I’ll give you what you want. Only my way.” He tied you up with leather handcuffs attached to the corners of the bed. There was no rush. He made sure to maintain control over every movement, every touch. The straps tightened just right — security and submission. You bit your lip, already feeling the heat building between your legs, and he laughed mockingly. 

“Look how you look just being restrained... so easy to read. So predictable.” He leaned down to your ear, his voice a whisper full of promise. “And you love it. You love challenging me just so I can bend you.” Scaramouche then slowly removed his blouse, letting you watch — like a small visual punishment. Without being able to touch, without even being able to brush your fingertips. He came closer again, his eyes sparkling, his fingers tracing your exposed body with a sharp caress. 

“You’re going to beg today, you know?” He said, his hand squeezing your thigh firmly. “And I won’t give in until I hear you ask for it. No smiles. No sarcasm. Just you, little  brat, surrendering.” You shivered under his touch, feeling his power wrap around you like an invisible chain. And for the first time that night, you were speechless. He smiled. A victorious smile, dark, hungry. “Good, you finally understand who’s in control here.” 

Scaramouche pulled away just enough to let you feel the emptiness of his absence. The handcuffs forced you to stay exactly where he wanted you — exposed, vulnerable, irritatingly aware of your own arousal. His gaze slid over you like a cruel caress, and the smile that formed on his lips promised no relief, only torment. 

“Did you really think you’d get what you wanted that easily?” He knelt between your legs, his fingertips sliding along the inside of your thigh but never reaching where you needed him most. “Not after all that petulance.” He leaned in, his lips brushing your skin — a touch that was almost chaste, almost pitiful. Almost. You arched your hips, desperate for more, but he pressed his hands against your thighs, keeping you still. 

“Tsk.” His tongue ran a lazy path, too hot and too light at the same time. “So sensitive... Already shaking from that? And you think you’re strong.” You moaned softly, trying to press yourself against him, but the chains wouldn’t let you. And he smiled, cruel and calm. 

“Not until you ask. Not with the boldness from before. I want your real voice. I want your surrender.” He then brought his hand between your legs, running his fingers over your sex without actually touching. Just the heat of the contact hovering there, making you cry out in frustration. Your body begged, throbbed, but he just watched. “Do you really think you’re going to cum before I let you?” He laughed, soft, contempt slipping through every syllable.

“You have no control here. I’m the one who decides when and if you deserve it.” Then he went down again, with his tongue, his fingers. The pleasure flared like fire. You arched, trembling, almost reaching… And he stopped. Nothing. Cold, suddenly. You gasped, desperate. 

“N-no… please, Scara, don’t do this—” He looked at you, and his gaze was pure dominance.

“You’re going to beg for real. You’re going to moan my name and call me master in that sweet little voice. Or you’re going to spend the whole night like this — trembling, wet, and empty.” His finger came back, teasing. Another slow kiss, a warm breath. But it was all superficial. Punishment disguised as affection. And you were already starting to give in. You bit your lip, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall. Your entire body ached with need, and yet he hovered there, cruel and serene, as if your suffering was entertainment.

Scaramouche tilted his face, his eyes narrowed in pure delight as he watched you squirm.

“Almost, aren’t you? That cheeky little mouth has lost its power. Where did all that teasing go, hm?”

His fingers slid in again, this time touching exactly where you wanted it most — but only for a second. A warm, lingering touch and then emptiness again. You gasped, sobbing, your hips trying to follow the absent touch. 

“P-Please…”

“Please what?” He murmured, with a satisfied smile. You hesitated, pride throbbing in your chest. But it was useless. You were already defeated.

“Master…” The word escaped in a broken voice. “Please, master… let me cum. I need…”

“Ah…” He sighed with pleasure, as if those words were sweeter than any moan. “Now my little brat knows how to behave.”

He returned with his fingers, his mouth, his body — all at once, without mercy. The touches came fast, intense, too skillful to resist. You moaned loudly, feeling the orgasm build up like a colossal wave. The tension made you tremble, the pleasure bordering on unbearable.

“Cum for me. Now.” He ordered, his voice low and hoarse. “Show me who you belong to.” And you broke: your body buckled, the chains rattling with the force of your climax. A hoarse cry escaped your lips, his name lost between sobs and moans. He held you tightly, whispering praise, guiding each spasm of your body. 

“Look at you… So beautiful, begging and cumming like this, all mine…” When the tremor passed, you could barely breathe. But his smile said he wasn’t done with you yet. “Now that you’ve learned your lesson… let’s see how many more times you can obey.”

Wriothesley 

Breeding kink, praise kink. (Fem!Reader) 

There’s something about the way Wriothesley watches you that goes beyond lust. It’s control, care, and such a genuine desire to see you rendition to him — completely vulnerable — that makes it impossible not to surrender to him.

When he praises you, his voice is low, gravelly, almost a whisper as he explores your body with caresses, touches, and kisses. His cock brushes against the folds of your sex, which is crying out to receive him after so much teasing, but penetration doesn’t happen — he continues using the tip of his cock to stimulate your hard, swollen clit, occasionally putting just the tip inside you, but never penetrating you completely. Your sanity was running out. You needed him, you needed him to fill you, stretch you, mark you as his.

“Wriothesley… please!” You moaned in frustration, your hands gripping his biceps, your nails digging into the skin. “Fuck me already.”

“Patience… Didn’t you say you’d be a good girl for me?” His words silenced your desperation — you wanted his approval, his praise — even if it meant your frustration would only grow. You nodded, biting your lip and leaning your head back against the pillow as you felt your orgasm approaching. It was almost strange how just the act of grinding against each other could completely break you. More moans left your lips and he smiled. 

“You’re perfect.” He murmured, thrusting into you without warning, reaching the deepest point inside you in seconds. That was enough to make you cum, your walls contracting against his cock, milking him. “Fuck, always so tight… and so warm…” He pulled you into an urgent kiss, his orgasm approaching as well. 

“Cum inside me…” You begged against his lips, your nails scratching his back, your body jerking against the sheets with every thrust of his hips. “Please, I’ve been a good girl.” 

“You look so beautiful like this, begging for me… Your body knows you belong to me, can you feel it too? It’s begging me to fill you completely, to plant my seed in your womb.”

“I…” You could barely speak, a second orgasm quickly approaching. “I want to feel you stay in me for hours, I want to feel you dripping out of me just so you can fill me up again.”

“So tight, s-so hot…” He bit his lip, his words failing and his eyebrows furrowing, a clear sign that he was about to cum. And he did: hot and deep. Spurt after spurt of his seed invaded your womb, marking you completely as his. “Good girl... My girl. So obedient, so perfect, so… mine.”

Zhongli 

Edging, use of vibrators. (Fem!Reader) 

The room was calm, silent, as if the world had stopped to watch you both. Zhongli always treated pleasure with reverence, as an art that required patience, study and devotion.

You were lying between the silk sheets, your body already covered in a thin layer of sweat, the sheets messy beneath you. Your legs trembled slightly, and your breathing came in ragged pants. The vibrator in your intimacy vibrated in a soft, continuous rhythm — but never enough.

Zhongli was beside you, on his knees, his golden eyes fixed on each of your reactions. His expression was calm, almost solemn. As if he were praying with his eyes, adoring each sigh that left your lips.

"You're doing so well, darling." He murmured, his voice deep and calm, almost a whisper that touched your core. "So sensitive... so obedient."

The vibrator was lightly pressed against your clitoris, and you gasped, your hips arching reflexively. But, as he had done before, he pulled the toy away before your climax. Again. Once more. You moaned in frustration, almost tearful, feeling your own essence drip down your thighs. 

"Zhongli… Please…" Your voice was a raw, trembling plea. He smiled gently, caressing your face with his fingertips, as if you were made of porcelain.

"Patience, my dear. Pleasure must be built, polished… almost like a rare jewel." He slid the vibrator over you again, this time with a light circular motion, unhurriedly. "When I allow it, it will be the kind of pleasure that will completely break you. Isn't that what you want?"

You whimpered in response, feeling every inch of your body tremble under the touch of the toy and his words. The moans came low, almost desperate, your mind clouded between torment and ecstasy. And he watched, mesmerized by how beautiful you were as you lost control for him. And then he finally whispered those words against your ear. 

“Come for me…” You knew you were lost — and at the same time, exactly where you wanted to be. 

The permission came as a blessing, and you came hard, your body arching in pure bliss. The sounds that escaped your lips were hoarse, beautifully uncontrolled. And Zhongli didn’t look away for a second: he matched every spasm of your body with his firm hands on your thighs, keeping the vibrator gently pressed against your clit even as you shuddered in extreme sensitivity. You gasped, breathless, and yet… yet you wanted more.

“You look so lovely like this.” He murmured, tracing the contour of your belly with his fingertips. “So surrendered… So mine.”

You tried to push the toy away with trembling hands, but he held them easily, his fingers intertwined with yours. His gaze was calm, but there was a spark of raw desire burning behind the gold of his eyes.

“I’m not done with you yet.” And then he turned the vibrator back on — a lower intensity, but focused, insidious, teasing exactly where you were most vulnerable. You let out a sob of pleasure, your body convulsing in immediate response.

“Zhongli… It’s too much, I can’t—”

“Shh…” He leaned down, kissing your lips tenderly. “You can, I know you can. Trust me.”

He knew your body like he knew the stories of every era of Teyvat— deeply, with respect, with adoration. Every pause between moans, every quiver of your muscles, every new limit crossed was memorized by him — memorized with mastery, just like the stories he had once told you.

“You deserve every drop of this pleasure.” He whispered in your ear, as his cock finally replaced the vibrator. “And I will be here to guide you through it.” You whimpered — a beautiful, husky, indecent sound — as your second orgasm came fast, violently, stealing your breath, your strength. But he didn’t stop his thrusts, because Zhongli didn’t love in a hurry. He loved like a god who had all eternity to worship his favorite mortal.

Breeding kink, DD/LG and praise kink. (Fem!Reader)  

The candles cast a soft amber light over the room, dancing over the contours of the antique furniture and heavy curtains. Zhongli was meticulous even in his intimate moments — everything around him seemed carefully prepared to make you feel adored. And it worked.

You lay between the silk sheets, your breath held as he knelt between your legs, his golden eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that made your entire body shiver. 

He leaned forward, his hands firm on your thighs, spreading heat wherever he touched. “You’re perfect like this, you know that?” His voice was deep, sweet, enveloping like a balm. “So receptive, so mine… Just like the good little girl you are.” His kisses began softly, almost reverently, on your abdomen, then below your navel, until he was inside you again — slowly, deeply, filling you as if each movement meant more than just physical pleasure. 

“Zhongli, please…” You whimpered, your hands finding their way to his back. 

"You drive me crazy." He murmured against your neck, his thrusts deep and slow, his hips pressed against yours as if he wanted to merge the two of you into one body. "Every time I feel you like this, so hot, so tight... All I can think about is filling you to the last drop." Your moans were interrupted only by the words he whispered in your ear, between kisses and caresses that left your skin on fire. 

"I’ve been thinking about fucking a baby into you…" Zhongli brushed his lips against your ear. “Every single day, every now and then, I catch myself thinking about knocking you up, making you round with my child, tying your soul to mine because of our heir…” His thrusts became more rapid, almost violent as he continued his monologue. “Would you like me to do so, my girl?” Your eyes widened — you suspected he had some kind of breeding kink, but having him finally admit it… it made your heart warm up in adoration.

“I’ll happily nurture your heir inside my womb.” You reassured him. 

"You deserve to be praised, adored… You deserve to be filled with me, like the good girl you are." You felt him grip your waist, keeping you in place, as if he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t disappear. The pleasure was intense, pulsating — and he knew exactly how to handle every second of it. "Atta girl... Just like that, love, you're taking me so good.” 

“Daddy… I’m…” That name slipped from your lips unintentionally, and you felt aroused by it. You had never called him that, even though you fulfilled the role of being his little girl. “I’m so close, please, daddy… Cum inside of me.” 

When he finally reached his limit, his moan was muffled against your skin. His orgasm provoked yours: your cunt convulsing around his cock, milking every last drop of his cum out of him, the contractions of your walls helping his seed reach deep inside of you, invading your womb without warning. 

The silence that followed the climax was thick and full of meaning. Zhongli didn’t pull away immediately — instead, he remained above you, his body still entwined with yours, his fingers slowly tracing your waist, as if he wanted to memorize every curve again.

Your breathing was irregular, your eyes half closed as you felt the heat of his body mixed with yours. There was still the sensation of his semen inside you, hot and abundant, as he had promised.  

The kiss he placed on your forehead was slow, like a seal of care. Zhongli then pulled out of you calmly, carefully observing your reactions, as if any discomfort you felt was a crime he would never forgive himself for committing. He lowered his gaze to where your bodies separated, and the sight made him let out a heavy sigh — satisfied, possessive, enchanted. And even breathless, he still whispered with possessive caress:

“Look at you…” He murmured, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh, where his cum dripped lazily. “So full of me…”

You moaned softly, shuddering at his touch, and Zhongli smiled. A small smile, but full of tenderness. He rested his forehead on yours, his nose lightly brushing against yours, before murmuring in the softest voice you had ever heard as his fingertips caressed the skin of your lower bell in an instinctive, protective way. 

“You make me want a future.” He murmured, kissing the top of your head. “With you. With the two of you.” 

[sidemari]

• Claimed •

NSFW headcanons of how having sex with them would be.

Characters included: John "Soap" MacTavish, Keegan P. Russ, König and Simon “Ghost” Riley [separately] x Fem!Reader

TW: Bondage; breeding kink; choking; creampie; edging; hate sex; jealousy sex; marking (hickeys, etc); masturbation; sub/dom dynamics; oral sex (F/M receiving); riding; slapping; praise kink, unprotected sex. Let me know if I missed anything. 

A COD post you may like.

John "Soap" MacTavish

He's the perfect balance between dominant and submissive. 

Usually when he comes home from a mission, exhausted and just wanting to spend time with you, he'll happily accept that you take the reins — sex will be calmer, more intimate and romantic in this case. But if he is well rested or even frustrated or riled up enough, he will be the one in control and will put aside his chill personality for a few moments. His main goal is to show he's the one in charge, the one exploiting your every weakness until you're broken.

Still on the subject of coming back home after missions, he gets clingy and horny when he's sleepy. There were many times when his hands roamed your hips and thighs as you cuddled, his fingertips slowly stimulating the right spots to make your desire awaken. Your hand, in turn, began to stimulate his already hard cock — restricted only by his sweatpants and nothing else — while you kissed his neck. A few seconds tended to pass before his hand guided yours inside his pants, allowing you to touch his cock: long, throbbing, dripping with pre-cum and crying out for attention. 

He has a thing for positions where he can see your back and ass. His hands usually settle on your thighs as he pulls you against him, firm, rhythmic, and with each thrust, the sound of your bodies mingled with the muffled moans and the muffled sound of the bed beneath you. A soft smack would echo in the room — a tender slap, but full of desire, causing you to beg him to keep going. He would repeat it, more eagerly, watching your skin flush beneath his fingers. This isn’t about sex anymore — it is about dominance mixed with affection, intensity tinged with respect. 

You were lying on your side, the sheets pulled up to your waist, and the curve of your body cast soft shadows in the low light of the lamp. He approached you from behind, his fingers slowly sliding over the skin of your back, tracing silent paths.

“I like seeing you like this.” He murmured, his voice husky against the back of your neck. “All mine...”

You sighed, closing your eyes as he wrapped his body around yours, fitting himself inside of you slowly, as if each movement had weight, intention. One of his hands held your waist firmly; the other moved down your arm, until his fingers intertwined with yours, sealing their intimacy in silence.

You squeezed his hand tighter, and he understood the message.

The thrusts became deeper, harder and faster — until you both were a moaning mess. 

"Yeah, give it all to me, love..."

"J-Johnny— Fuck..." Your body obliged his words. 

Keegan P. Russ

He likes to physically restrain you during sex so that he has complete control of you. If you get frustrated with his need for control, it only makes him even more satisfied.

If he chose to use ropes, he would start with your wrists. Bondage wasn't just about restraint; it was about trust. His fingers would slide firmly but gently, wrapping your arms behind your back. Each knot was tied with care and tested with delicacy. By the time he was finished, you’d be already panting, even without a more intimate touch.

Definitely uses his praise kink skills to his advantage. He would mumble compliments and sweet nothings while doing the most sinful things to you. Every time you obeyed his orders without blinking, every time you made an effort to make him feel good, you would be rewarded. 

Jealousy is a common cause of intense sex scenes between you. Keegan is a healthy boyfriend, but jealousy can quickly develop within his heart, and often the most effective way to resolve these feelings is by fucking the frustration away. Many times he wouldn't see you as the sweet girl he asked out, but as someone who deserves to be punished, especially if someone looked at you with ulterior motives or touched you without him expecting it. He knows that it is not your fault, but the need to show the world that you belong to him speaks louder. This leads him to mark your body in many different ways, whether with hickeys — you've had situations like someone from the squad asking you where those marks came from more times than you'd like to admit — or even with his own cum — several times you had to pretend that everything was under control while talking to your superiors as you felt his cum dripping out of you. 

You belong to each other, and no one can change that.

You had argued due to his stupid jealousy once again.

He approached slowly, stopping behind you. His hands rested firmly on your waist. You didn’t move away. The air between you was charged — with anger, with desire, with unspoken love. When he pressed his lips to your bare shoulder, you shivered. It was the kind of touch that said “listen to me” without words.

“You annoy me deeply.” He murmured, his voice hoarse, restrained.

You answered him still harshly, but your eyes already betrayed your surrender.

“Then show me.”

The kiss came like a snap — urgent, deep, desperate. He pulled you tightly by the waist, pressing your body against his. His hands slid down your thighs, lifting the fabric of your clothes carelessly. There was frustration there, yes. But more than that, there was a desire to resolve this in the most primal way you knew how.

He turned you against the wall with a sure movement, his body pressing against yours from behind, the penetration coming quickly, full of urgency as you surrendered yourself, pushing your hips back, seeking more, feeling alive under the dominion of his touch.

“You are mine… only mine.” 

Your bodies were slamming against each other, your moans were being muffled by kisses, his hand, and the way his mouth claimed yours.

When you came, it was as if all the rage evaporated. Keegan came soon after, buried deep inside of you, still pressing you against the wall, your hearts beating as one.

“You better don't let anyone else touch you again.” He muttered seriously.

König 

This man is a sucker for going down on you. He loves the way you shiver every time his tongue stimulates your clit while his fingertips keep brushing against the most sensitive spot within you. You arched your body as you felt his tongue teasing, firm and attentive, as if it knew exactly what you needed. He watched you break as he brought you over the edge again and again, savoring every sigh, every tremor. When you pulled him to you, there was no more distance, just the fusion of the two of you — skin against skin, desire against desire.

He definitely has a thing for cumming inside you. He finds it so intimate, so warm and so delicious that it's hard for him to hold back. You didn’t take long to start suspecting that maybe, just maybe, he may have a breeding kink, and you keep teasing him about it, not only by allowing him to fill you up completely with his cum every single time you two have sex, but also by preventing him from pulling out of you (the few times his self control wins) by wrapping your legs tightly around his waist as you whisper to him that you need to feel his seed inside of you. 

Edging is common with him. He kisses your neck, your shoulders, the curve of your breasts, while his hands explore the contours of your body with care and firmness. His fingers touch you with a calculated rhythm, alternating softness and intensity, exploring limits. And every time you thought relief would come, he would stop — just for a few seconds — just to hear you beg for more as you became more sensitive, more surrendered, more vulnerable to pleasure. He wouldn't let you escape — his eyes fixed on yours, attentive to every reaction. When he finally penetrated you, you were already trembling. Each movement of his passed through you like a wave, and your body responded with broken moans and meaningless whispers. He smiled against your skin — he knew the power he had. And then, when the climax arrived, it was as if the world had dissolved. You came undone in his arms, your body writhing in spasms of pleasure, your mind blank, filled only with the sensation of his touch — present, absolute, necessary.

The night was advancing in silence, and the room was all darkness and slow breathing. The sheets were warm from the heat of your bodies, and there you were, intertwined, naked, cuddling each other, as if you didn't want time to pass. You felt his chest pressed against your back, his arms wrapped around you carefully, his legs tangled with yours.

Still half asleep, you smiled when you felt his lips brush the back of your neck — a light kiss, almost shy, but full of intention.

There were no words, just a gesture. He gasped, trying to stifle a moan that insisted on leaving his lips as you stimulated the tip of his cock with your index finger — slowly, steady and hot.  

"Fuck, that's good—" 

"Shh, let me make you feel good while you relax." Your hands stroked his cock as his moans were soft, lazy, mixed with low chuckles of disbelief and stray kisses on the shoulder. 

"I... I don't deserve you…" His cock throbbed, you knew he was close. 

"C-Can I cum inside you? Please, I-I..." He whimpered, a sincere plea written in his words. You smiled with a half smile, straddling his lap before burying him completely inside you.

“Fill me up completely… I want to feel you dripping out of me later.”

“F-Fuck, liebling—” He pulled you against his body as he came while your own orgasm slowly faded as your walls accepted his essence. “I love you, meine Liebe.” 

Simon “Ghost” Riley 

He is still relatively reserved even after months of relationship, but there is no lack of intensity and connection between you.

Having sex with him is not only a carnal experience, but an emotional one. Every sensation, stimulus, kiss, touch, and word makes you experience the best that life has to offer: pure satisfaction.

Among the habits he has during sex, the delicious way he squeezes your neck with his hand or even with his biceps is by far one of the best sensations he can give you. It is absurdly good to feel lightheaded while you see his blurred figure above you due to the tears of pleasure as he pounds his cock inside you just the way that makes you melt under him.

He changes the rhythm, depth, and strength of his thrusts without failing with his movements even once. Maybe he has become addicted to seeing how you whimper and shudder when the thrusts that were until then slow and deep become shallower, stronger, and faster.

Any position that allows him to see your face while you have sex is ideal for him. It’s not uncommon for Simon to pull you in for a slow, intimate kiss when he’s close to cumming, filled with silent adoration 

He tends to be more dominant in bed; let’s face it, that’s his personality. But if you ever feel like taming him is a good option, he won’t hesitate to obey you: he welcomes every stimulus you give him with pleasure, making sure to be a good boy for the one he loves so much.

He hugged you from behind, murmuring something unintelligible in your ear before picking you up and placing you on the kitchen counter.

“S-Simon…” He took you by surprise. You were cooking breakfast for the two of you when he showed up, wearing only sweatpants, his hair disheveled, his eyes full of sleep, and his voice hoarse.

“You got out of bed...” He murmured again, and this time you understood it perfectly. “...and left me there, alone.” Your boyfriend pressed wet kisses against your neck, moving down to one of your breasts. The tip of his thumb caressed your nipple above the fabric of your shirt, making it hard and sensitive enough to make you whimper.

“The pancakes… they’re going to get cold.” You murmured, squirming in anticipation as your shorts were pulled down with absurd ease. You didn’t care about that food; you just wanted to have sex with him right there. It was bizarre how he could get you in the mood in a matter of seconds.

Kneeling down, he kissed the inside of your thigh before murmuring against your skin.

“I feel like eating something else before breakfast.” You blushed, avoiding eye contact with him. “Look at me,” He asked, his voice low and firm. 

“I want to see your face while I eat you out.” You obeyed. And right there, on the kitchen counter, he began. His tongue was precise, careful and, at the same time, full of intention. He explored every part as if he had all the time in the world — as if he were memorizing your taste. You moaned, your fingers going to his hair, gripping it as if that anchored you to reality. But he only chuckled softly against your folds.

You tried to close your legs as the wave of pleasure began to take over, but he held you even tighter, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“Don't. I want to see everything. I want to feel you cum in my mouth.” The cold marble contrasted with the heat of the moment, and between sighs, contained moans and the firmness of his hands, you knew — you would never be able to touch that counter again without remembering how he made you cum there.

[sidemari]

• Aftercare •

Short headcanons about how they treat you after sex.

Characters included: John "Soap" MacTavish, Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Keegan P. Russ, König and Simon "Ghost" Riley [separately] x GN!Reader

Mari's notes: Let me know if any of you want me to write for other COD characters. My requests are open.

After taking care of your basic needs, such as hydration, cleansing and reassurance, Soap will offer a “movie session”, in which you would watch something lighthearted together while exchanging caresses, kisses and confessions.

A COD post you may like.

John "Soap" MacTavish

As the movie begins, he pulls you into his chest, where you feel the calm beating of his heart against your ear. His hands don't stay still — they slide calmly down your back, sometimes intertwining with yours, other times just stroking your hair or your shoulders.

The confessions come quietly, as he shares funny memories, details of his daily life, and even his most intimate thoughts — the ones he usually hides behind the facade of a playful soldier.

"This protagonist has jokes as bad as yours." You laughed, kissing the corner of his mouth.

"Are you implying that my sense of humor is lame? Because if you really are..." He squeezed your cheek playfully, but his gaze was more intense, with a mischievous smile. You smiled, feeling the tension increase. 

"Oh, the character's is. But I can't deny that you have a special talent for bad jokes." You murmured, and the tone of your voice became lower, loaded with a slight but present desire.

"Come here, I still need you." He moved closer, the heat of his body enveloping yours, and his lips found yours again, but this time with more urgency and more intensity. Maybe criticizing his jokes was the best choice you made that night.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick 

Words of affirmation! Expect this man to offer you, in addition to his comforting presence, all the reassurance you could possibly need after a night of intense sex.

You are the most precious person to him and he makes sure you know it. 

After taking care of you with patience and dedication, he creates a small refuge just for the two of you. The room is softly lit, the temperature is cozy, and everything around you seems to slow down. He remains attentive to every detail: he covers you with a light blanket, fixes your hair so it doesn't bother you, checks if you are warm and relaxed. 

In silence, he gets your favorite drink and a snack — something he knows will do you good — and sits next to you, watching you with affection. You realize, even without words, that in that moment he is completely present, completely devoted to the mission of taking care of you as he cuddles you in his arms and murmurs vows of love and devotion.

"You were so good to me..." He'd murmur against your lips before pulling you into a tender kiss. "Let me spoil you a little before you fall asleep."

You smiled, the warmth of his kiss spreading through your body, feeling yourself enveloped by both the softness and the intensity of the moment. When he pulled away, his eyes were shining, as if he were giving in to the desire to take care of you.

Time passed, between caresses and whispers, as the outside world disappeared and all that mattered was each other's presence. When Gaz pulled you back into a tight hug, you let yourself be enveloped by his warmth, your body relaxing completely.

"Rest... I'll take care of everything."

Keegan P. Russ

Despite being very reserved, he is extremely protective. 

He will always make sure to make you comfortable: whether it is by covering your body with a soft blanket, massaging any sore spots with unusual mastery or even just cuddling you tightly while you recover your energy. 

Even with the tiredness weighing down his muscles, he doesn't think about sleeping before making sure you're okay. His fingers gently run along your hips, precisely exploring most sensitive spots as a way to tease you — even if slightly. The pressure is firm, careful, as if he already knows every inch of you — as if he wants, with that touch, to convey all the love he feels for you.

Despite the rigidity that the world demands of him, with you he allows his shoulders to relax. From time to time, even in moments when everything seems calm, he squeezes you a little tighter, as if confirming to himself that you are there.

“It tickles…” You murmured against his neck as he traced circles with his fingertips against the skin of your hip. He smiled, amused by your statement. 

“You are so precious.” 

“Do you say that because you are trying to make me laugh or because you really think so?” You asked, your voice soft, but with a hint of teasing. You felt the warmth of his breath against your skin, his smile still vibrating through your body like a gentle wave. Your eyes closed for a moment, savoring the feeling of closeness before he answered.

"I say this because, to me, you are more than precious." He kissed the top of your head. "And you are all I want to keep close."

König

He reassures you of your consent and safety every single time he has sex with you for having sex with him can be overwhelming at times, due to his high stamina and the size difference between you two.

König finds it essential to make sure that everything that happened was consensual and that you enjoyed every second of it: even after the peak of physical surrender, he doesn't pull away. On the contrary — it's as if, after all this, the bond between you becomes even stronger. He makes sure you're okay, observing every detail: your breathing, the sparkle in your eyes, the relaxation of your muscles. Nothing escapes his attention.

He has a habit of drawing baths so that you can prolong the emotional connection you both developed for longer: he will take his time taking care of you while the candles perfume the room and he cleans your skin with slow, respectful movements but full of contained desire. This step usually leads to another round of sex, this time calmer but no less intense. 

“Do you want to wear one of my shirts, liebling?” He asked, resting his chin on your head as he hugged you from behind. 

“I would love to.” 

“You look so cute in it.” He offered you his favorite shirt for you to change into. You took it with a shy smile, smelling his scent impregnated in the fabric — a mix of woody soap and something uniquely his that was impossible to name. 

“You’ll end up keeping it inside your wardrobe forever, right?” He asked with a half smile, watching as you dressed it.

“Maybe…”

Simon "Ghost" Riley 

When you first started having occasional encounters, he was relatively cold and reserved after sex, never staying with you until dawn nor even attending to any of your needs diligently. Over time, after you became his partner, he allowed himself to be a little vulnerable and then began to provide you with aftercare. 

If he notices any sign of discomfort, whether physical or emotional, he responds with simple actions: he fetches fresh water and offers it directly into your hands, as a gesture of intimate care. He brings a warm, damp cloth, cleaning your skin patiently, preventing any feeling of vulnerability from turning into disconnection.

If the exhaustion is more emotional than physical, he adapts. He doesn't force conversation, he doesn't wait for words: he just stays there, laying next to you, allowing you to rest your head on his chest as his fingers, now more confident, massage your back with a steady rhythm, gently bringing you back to yourself.

The first morning you woke up with him still by your side was a surprise: his dark blond hair was messy, his voice was deliciously hoarse and his still naked body in intimate contact with your own body.

"Simon...?" You murmured sleepily, almost incredulous to see him still by your side. 

"That would be me." He'd say as he caressed your hair with affection before putting it behind your ear.

“I… thought I was dreaming for a second.”

“If it is a dream... then don't wake me up."

Your heart clenched slightly, a sense of belonging finally taking over you after months — you had finally gained his trust and unconditional love. So you closed your eyes, leaned your forehead against his, and let the silence say what words still couldn't.

[sidemari]

• 1 character, 1 kink (Genshin Impact Edition) •

REQUESTS ARE CLOSED. THANK U FOR THOSE WHO SENT AN ASK.

Send your requests in my ask box for this NSFW event of mine.

Rules:

Maximum of 3 characters per request.

Up to 3 kinks of your choice per character.

Boys and girls are allowed.

Please be patient while waiting for final publication (college is killing me).

Be polite to me in your request.

I will not write about kinks or characters that I am not comfortable with.

Ideas of kinks: Breeding kink, BDSM, bondage, breath play, consensual non-con, DD/LG, edge play, exhibitionism, orgasm control, praise kink, voyeurism.

If many requests are sent, I will choose the ones that interest me the most.