#yato

✦ Kaeya

He flirts with everyone, but the way he remembers the small things about you—your favorite fruit, that one story you told in passing—is how he truly shows affection.

Always has a spare coat or handkerchief ready. Not that he’ll admit he brought it for you. “You just looked cold, sunshine.”

He flirts with the whole damn tavern, but the second you’re alone in the alley out back, he proves just how little anyone else matters. You're barely able to catch your breath from the walk there before he’s got you pressed up against the cold wall, dress rucked up, panties shoved aside, and his cock buried deep. He holds your wrists above your head with one hand, the other gripping your waist, his breath hot against your ear as he fucks you hard and fast from behind. The bar's music still thumps through the walls, but all you can hear is the wet slap of skin and your own breathy moans as he drives into you like he’s been waiting all night. You wanted his attention? Now you’ve got it—and he’s going to make sure you don’t forget who you belong to.

If someone dares upset you, they mysteriously have a very bad day soon after. He never confirms it, but his smug smile says enough.

He buys two drinks from Good Hunter—your order and his—without asking. Just slides it toward you while pretending it’s no big deal.

He walks on the outer side of the road, always between you and any danger. Never says why. Never will.

✦ Zhongli

He speaks poetically, but the love is in his constancy. He shows it in the way he listens to you—truly listens. No interruptions, no drifting attention.

Keeps you out of the rain with his umbrella—so subtly that you don’t notice until you’re dry and he’s half-soaked.

He’s slow, deliberate, reverent—your body worshipped like something ancient and sacred beneath him. In the soft golden light of your shared bedroom, he moves with purpose, hips rolling deep into you, slow enough to make you whine for more. He kisses every inch of your skin like a vow, hands firm on your thighs as he splits you open with such aching care. And when he finally presses a kiss just below your navel—right over your womb—you feel it in your soul. It’s not just sex with him, it’s devotion. He’s filling you with more than just his cock—he’s pouring every ounce of love, want, and need into you until you’re trembling beneath him, completely and utterly his.

He always remembers what flowers you like and places them in vases around your shared space without saying a word.

Brings you warm tea just when you're thinking about it. Every single time.

If you're anxious, he’ll place a grounding hand on your back or shoulder—no words, just silent strength.

✦ Childe (Tartaglia)

He’s loud and dramatic, but his true love comes through in his protectiveness. He’ll keep a casual arm around your waist when walking in public—not just for affection, but to keep you close.

Teaches you how to fight—not to make you a soldier, but because he wants you to be safe when he’s not there.

He’s loud, cocky, and loves to show off—but when he’s got you on your back with your legs over his shoulders, he gets real serious, real fast. After a long day of spoiling you and hauling your bags like the overprotective bastard he is, he ends it by fucking you like it’s a war he's winning. He slams into you with wild precision, rough enough to make the headboard crack against the wall, grinning every time you moan his name like a prayer. When you’re shaking and crying out, nails digging into his back, he leans down, sweat dripping off his jaw, and growls about how tight you are—how no one else will ever get you like this. Not when you're this full, this ruined, this his.

Whenever he travels, he brings back something small for you. A trinket, a snack, a funny story. “Saw this and thought of you. Weird, huh?”

You never carry heavy bags when he’s around. He snatches them from your hand with a scoff, “What kind of guy would I be if I let you do all the work?”

Late at night, when he thinks you’re asleep, he strokes your hair and murmurs how much you mean to him.

✦ Baizhu

He checks on your health constantly, but in soft, non-intrusive ways—subtle glances at your hands for signs of stress, casual questions about your sleep patterns.

Slips herbal sweets or calming tea into your bag without telling you. Just in case.

He handles you like a fragile prescription—careful, methodical, but with a knowing touch that always lands exactly where you need it. You come to him aching, worn down, and he insists on giving you a "full-body remedy." He spreads your legs on his clinic table like he’s preparing for an exam, fingers slow and deep inside you, stroking places that make your back arch. He talks you through every pulse and tremble, voice low and clinical, even as you're gasping for more. And when his cock finally slides in, it’s a slow, thorough treatment—his hips grinding deep as he murmurs about how good you're taking it, how your body’s responding perfectly. It’s filthy and tender all at once—Baizhu doesn’t just fuck you, he treats you, and you leave that table ruined in all the right ways.

Always has a warm cloth ready if your hands are cold. Holds them gently like he’s diagnosing the soul.

If you mention a minor ache or issue, the next day there’s a custom remedy made “for a patient” that just happens to be perfect for you.

Doesn’t always say “I love you,” but he adjusts his schedule to make time for you—something he does for no one else.

✦ Ayato

A master of keeping feelings hidden, so his love shows in how he makes space for you in his world—in his schedule, in his home, in his heart.

Silently ensures your favorite dessert is served at every gathering he hosts. Even if you say you don’t want anything, it’s there.

He’s polished, composed, always one step ahead—but when the doors are locked and your knees are on the edge of his expensive desk, he fucks you like you’re the only thing that ever made him lose control. He doesn't rush—no, Ayato devours you with finesse, hips grinding in deep, slow circles that leave you trembling. Your cries echo off lacquered walls, but he doesn’t care. He slides a hand into your hair, tilts your head back, and keeps going until your legs shake and you’re clenching around him like you’ll break. He’ll go right back to attending meetings with his usual calm after, but the bruises on your hips and the mess on his pristine shirt say otherwise—because you are his favorite secret to indulge in.

He’s always busy, yet if you text him late at night, he replies instantly—even if it’s just an emoji or a single-word response, it means you come first.

You’ll never see him panic, but when you’re upset, he’ll appear by your side with your favorite book, a cup of tea, and a quiet smile.

He doesn’t talk about you publicly, but his subordinates know: if it involves you, it matters.

✦ Thoma

The king of quiet caretaking. You’ll never have to do chores around him—he’ll cook, clean, and hum while doing it all, smiling softly when you offer to help.

If you’re having a bad day, he doesn’t ask what’s wrong—he just makes your comfort food, lights a candle, and sits beside you with patience.

He’s the kindest man you know, always cleaning up after you, doting like it’s second nature—but when he gets you alone, he’s dangerously sweet. He has you bent over the kitchen counter he just wiped clean, fucking you from behind with a low groan in your ear, your apron still half-on and your moans muffled by your own forearm. He grips your waist like he’s holding you together, thrusts steady and deep, muttering soft praises about how good you feel, how perfect you are for him. And when you start to fall apart, he wraps his arm around your waist, keeping you upright like the good boy he is—always taking care of you, even when he’s fucking the life out of you.

Keeps a list of all your likes and dislikes in his head and plans around them. The weather’s cold? He already packed your scarf.

Always brings back something small from his errands—flowers, snacks, a shiny rock he thought you’d find cool.

He says “take care” like he means “please don’t get hurt, I’m begging you.”

✦ Itto

He’s loud, chaotic, and messy—but his love is in his loyalty and pride in you. You’re his favorite topic. If someone asks about his gang, he ends up bragging about you instead.

Will fight anyone who so much as jokes about you in a weird tone. Immediately. Doesn’t care who it is.

He’s all bark and biceps until he’s got you pinned under him, rutting into you like he’s got something to prove—and he does. You’re his, and he’s gonna fuck you like he wants the whole neighborhood to know. The bed creaks, the headboard bangs, and you’re gripping the sheets like your life depends on it while he keeps pounding into you with wild, relentless thrusts. He moans loud, praises you louder, and when you start crying from the stretch and the pressure, he just grins, wipes your tears with his thumb, and keeps going. “Look at you, takin’ all of me like a champ,” he’d say if he wasn’t too busy making you scream his name into the damn mattress.

Shares his food with you, even if it’s his last dango milk. That’s a big deal.

Tries (and fails) to do things like write you poems or make handmade gifts. They’re usually bad—but endearing in the way he gets so excited to show you.

He’s the kind of guy to carry you on his shoulders just because. To him, it’s not about showing off—it’s about holding you up where you belong: “at the top of the world, babe.”

✦ Alhaitham

He’s not showy about his feelings, but his love is in his consistency and attention to detail. He’ll remember exactly how you like your tea, your preferred seat in a library, the book you were curious about three weeks ago.

If you're walking beside him and the sun is too harsh, he’ll casually tilt his book to shade you instead.

He’s all quiet control and precision until you catch him alone in his study, the world muted except for the slick slide of his fingers undressing you. No grand gestures—just slow, calculated exploration of every inch, tongue tracing lines like he’s memorizing your body’s secrets. When he finally sinks into you, it’s measured but deep, hips pushing forward with deliberate pressure that makes you gasp, then shiver. His dark eyes lock with yours, calm and intense, as he leans close to press a whispered curse against your collarbone, dragging you deeper into the kind of silence where only breath and moans exist. You’re not just his partner—you’re his obsession, and he’ll make sure you feel every damn second of it.

Doesn't say "I miss you." Instead, he leaves sticky notes with neutral reminders on them that end with: You’d better come back safe.

He listens—even when it looks like he’s ignoring you. Later, he’ll reference something small you said during a rant. "You were worried about this, weren’t you? I took care of it."

He offers his headphones to you. That’s his version of an intimate gesture. Quiet, shared peace. Just vibes and closeness.

✦ Kaveh

He shows love by romanticizing every little thing you do. You pick a flower? He compares you to a Renaissance painting. You trip? He calls it a "graceful stumble of a poetic soul."

He decorates your shared space with warm lights and cozy throw pillows, always claiming it’s for ambience, but it’s really for you.

He’s all softness and warmth until the moment he pins you gently to the couch with a sigh, lips trailing hot kisses down your neck as his hands roam possessively over your curves. His voice drops low, full of poetry and promise, murmuring filthy words that make your skin crawl and your pulse race. When he slides inside you, it’s slow and tender but with an edge of desperation, fingers threading through your hair as he presses you closer, whispering about how you’re his perfect masterpiece—flaws and all. You’re tangled in his arms, drowning in the sweet ache of his touch, every kiss a brushstroke painting you as his ultimate muse, craving and claiming you in every lingering thrust.

He always walks you home, no matter how tired or late it is. And he sings—just softly enough that you almost miss it.

Gives you handmade gifts, even if he’s broke. A framed drawing, a handcrafted pendant, a poem he accidentally left on your pillow.

If you’re sad, he tries to cheer you up by distracting you with a passionate monologue about something ridiculous. Works every time.

✦ Neuvillette

Reserved but deeply observant, he notices when your mood shifts by the slightest margin. He doesn’t press—you just suddenly find time clearing on his calendar so he can spend it with you.

Carries a handkerchief for you at all times. He’ll wordlessly pass it to you during emotional moments, his hand gently brushing yours.

He’s calm and reserved until he’s got you backed against a bookshelf in his private study, fingers tracing slow, deliberate circles over your most sensitive places. His tongue follows the path of his fingers, teasing you with maddening precision—pressing just enough to make you whimper, then sliding deeper where you need it most. His touch is confident, almost clinical, but there’s heat in every stroke, every flick, building you up until your legs tremble and your breath hitches. When he finally parts you with his fingers and slips inside, it’s slow, intense, and unrelenting, as if marking you not just with pleasure but ownership, leaving no doubt that you’re his to cherish and unravel.

He walks at your pace, even if it means slowing down by half. Always on your left, always watching the crowd for trouble.

Will place your favorite snack on your desk during long days—officially “from the court’s hospitality,” but you know it was him.

When you're overwhelmed, he lets you rest your head on his shoulder and quietly reads to you from his favorite books. His voice alone feels like safety.

✦ Wriothesley

Tough exterior, heart of warm, guarded affection. His way of showing love? Protecting your peace like a guard dog with manners.

Keeps a second pair of gloves just for you in case your hands get cold. Doesn’t say anything—just offers them casually like it’s no big deal.

He’s all controlled strength until he presses you hard against a cold wall, hips snapping into yours with rough, rhythmic force, fingers sliding underneath your clothing to wrap around your pearl-tight heat. His grip tightens with every thrust, his breaths sharp against your neck as he fucks you like he’s got something to prove—something only you can unlock. He doesn’t say much—just curses under his breath, low and urgent, as his hand teases and toys at your most sensitive spots, making your body shudder and your moans spill over. Every hard slap of skin, every calloused finger pressing deep, says plainly: you’re his, and he’s taking what’s his without mercy or apology.

Gives you his coat when you’re cold. Always. No matter how freezing he ends up.

He watches you when you talk—not in a creepy way, but with a sort of awe, like he can’t believe you’re real.

If you're upset, he won’t make you talk about it. He’ll invite you to box with him or cook with him instead, letting you work it out your way. He’s not good at emotions—but he’s always there.

✦ Ororon

His love is in the little things: the way he always makes sure your weapons are clean and ready, even if you never asked.

When you’re tired, he insists on carrying your gear, grumbling under his breath but secretly loving the excuse to help.

Ororon’s quiet strength turns feral behind closed doors. When he pins you against a wall after a long day, his hands grip firm but possessive, sliding beneath your clothes with urgent intent. He doesn’t need to whisper sweet nothings—his actions speak loud enough as his mouth trails down your neck, teeth grazing skin, tongue flicking over bruises he plans to leave. His pace is relentless, a fierce storm of need and control, driving you wild until you’re gasping and trembling under him. No words—just raw, fierce devotion marked by every hard thrust and rough touch.

He’s the kind of guy who shows affection through playful teasing but softens when he thinks no one is looking — a quick brush of his fingers against your hand or a lingering gaze.

If you get hurt, he’s the first to patch you up, his touch careful and surprisingly gentle for someone so fierce.

He shares stories from his travels just to see you smile and hear your laugh.

✦ Ifa

Ifa is more outgoing and sociable than people expect, showing his love through easy conversation, teasing, and warmth mixed with his natural calmness.

He expresses care by listening actively and offering thoughtful advice, always ready to engage deeply with you about ideas or feelings.

Ifa’s playful charm turns deliciously wicked when he’s got you alone. Between teasing kisses and whispered jabs, his fingers find your most sensitive places with practiced ease, drawing moans that make him grin. He loves to push your limits, tracing lazy circles with his tongue where you least expect, making you squirm and beg for more. When he finally slides inside, it’s with a mix of gentle warmth and mischievous hunger, his hands never still, exploring, claiming. His low chuckles and soft curses fill the room as he takes you in waves, making sure pleasure and laughter are tangled together—his signature way of loving you hard.

Enjoys playful banter and sometimes uses humor to lighten tense moments, showing affection through shared laughter and connection.

He remembers little details about your preferences and surprises you with small, considerate gifts like plants or trinkets that reflect your interests.

His love is a balance of extroverted warmth and grounded steadiness—he makes space for you while keeping things lively and genuine.

(Guys I'm so sorry if Ifa and Ororon's parts are off character I haven't even gotten to the Fontaine archon quest and like I've seen them and like never fully interacted with them so like yeah I'm just going off of looks and edits I've seen on TikTok TwT)

✦ Capitano

His love is in his protective presence—always a little too close for comfort, but never crossing boundaries.

Brags about you loudly to his crew, making sure everyone knows you’re his priority.

He’s all sharp angles and rough edges when he corners you against the ship’s bulkhead, hands gripping your hips like he’s holding on for dear life—and maybe he is. His breath is hot against your ear as he mutters curses and promises you only feel when he’s grinding into you hard and fast, claiming every inch with the precision of a captain taking command. His fingers dig into your waist, nails teasing bruises as his tongue finds yours, rough and demanding. When he fucks you against the cold metal, it’s fierce, protective, and utterly relentless—like he’s marking you as his, no questions asked.

He fixes things for you—broken doors, leaky faucets, or a torn jacket—without being asked.

When he’s nervous about you, he fidgets or tries to distract himself with loud jokes, but his eyes always find you.

Offers his coat or armor to shield you from rain or danger, like a living shield.

✦ Dottore

His love is weird but real: he shows it through thoughtful (if bizarre) experiments designed to improve your life.

Surprises you with strange gadgets or potions that somehow end up making things easier—or at least more interesting.

His love shows in strange ways, but when he pulls you into his cluttered lab, the intensity shifts. Fingers slick with something cold and unfamiliar, he teases your skin, exploring with scientific precision that somehow feels impossibly intimate. His tongue flicks with curious hunger, tasting, testing, driving you wild with the slow build of his calculated touch. When he finally takes you, it’s experimental—alternating between delicate care and rough urgency—his whispered calculations drowned out by your gasps and moans. Even in chaos, his obsession with you is clear: you’re his greatest experiment, and he’s determined to perfect every sensation.

Listens intensely when you talk, occasionally taking notes, then later shows up with solutions or improvements.

Despite his eccentricity, he always remembers your favorite things and makes sure they’re nearby.

When you’re upset, he offers a quiet presence, tinkering beside you, proving that love can be shown in many unconventional ways.

✦ Pantalone

Love, to him, is control and provision. You’ll never go without—not when he exists. He ensures it.

Buys out entire boutiques just because you once admired a coat in the window. He won’t tell you—he’ll just gesture toward the wardrobe and say, “Take your pick.”

Behind closed doors, his need to control takes on a more primal edge. He pins you with that same quiet power, fingers trailing possessively over your skin as he claims every inch without words. His touch is both reverent and demanding, guiding you exactly how he wants—slow, deliberate, and with an iron will beneath the silk. When he whispers curses in your ear during the heat of the moment, they’re promises masked as threats, his tongue tracing patterns that leave you trembling. Control isn’t just a word for him—it’s how he shows he owns you, body and soul, in the most intimate of ways.

He never says “I care about you.” Instead, it’s: “I've already handled the problem. You won’t hear from them again.”

Holds your hand only in private—softly, reverently, like he’s touching the one thing he cannot own.

He gives you an untraceable bank account and says, “Just in case you ever need to disappear.” You know what he really means is “I want you safe. Always.”

✦ Dainsleif

He doesn’t speak of love—he speaks of duty and fate. But his gaze softens when it lands on you, as if you’re the one thing he’d defy destiny for.

You’ll never see him rest, but he’ll stay awake through the night just to keep watch while you sleep.

His duty-bound exterior melts away when it’s just the two of you. He’s dark and intense, hands rough but gentle as they explore the delicate places he guards fiercely. His lips brush your skin like a vow, every kiss weighted with silent promises and battles fought for you alone. When he takes you, it’s with a fierce urgency—like he’s defying fate itself with every thrust, every whispered curse. The shadows around you deepen, but under his touch, you feel utterly seen, protected, and claimed—like you’re the only light worth fighting for in his relentless night.

Fixes your cloak when it tears. Wraps your wounds even when you insist you’re fine. He never says anything—just works in silence, his hands careful, like you’re something fragile in a world that breaks everything.

Always walks behind you. Not because he distrusts you, but because he’s made to shield, not to shine.