KAZUHA’S KINKTOBER — OVERSTIM!

Headcanons about Venti with God reader:

Warnings: general Sagau, yandere behavior, non descriptive violence, and heavy codependency

• He is quite literally the clingiest thing in existence

• Any day where he spends more time with you than anybody or anything else is a good day for him

• He needs to be constantly touching you or he is going to die

• It doesn’t matter how, hands interlocked, arms around each other, him on your lap with his head buried in the crook of your neck—

• He experiences almost what’s equivalent to withdraw symptoms without enough physical affection

• He basically considers you to be his life blood at this point, he really doesn’t know how he made it without you for so long

• He gets really fidgety, can’t focus on anything, nothing occupying his head except you, and at the worst stage he will visit every place you have even stepped foot in once in order to find you

• And when he does, oh boy

• You’re not going to be getting anything done for the next few hours because you’re going to have to deal with a clingy Archon basically glued to your side

• “You were soooo hard to find my love, it was horrible,” he whines as he pulls you closer, “Please please please tell me where you’re going next time, I can’t stand to be without you.”

• Of course it annoys the absolute hell out of everyone

• Both from jealousy and the fact that you’re not able to focus on more important matters, but it’s mostly jealousy

• He will do pretty much anything and everything you could ever possibly ask for

• I mean, you are his God, you must have a good reason for asking

• And that’s basically the principle he lives on

• “Of course your grace! Anything! Anything and everything you want.” he loving says as he holds your arm tighter, “Please tell me, please?”

• He kind of wants to prove himself as being worthy of your attention, so if he ever overhears you asking somebody else for something, he’s not going to shy away from getting it done first

• “Ehe, so I overheard you need to this, but Zhongli really didn’t sound like he had it covered…” Venti trailed off, holding a few very shiny pieces of archaic stone, “Do you need more? I’d love if you gave me the opportunity to get it for you!”

• “Venti I asked for that like 15 minutes ago, how—”

• He also constantly, and I mean constantly dedicates songs and poems to you

• He is still a Bard, he’s got a reputation to maintain

• Along with that, you can request any song you would like

• That includes both every song that has ever existed in his world, and whatever you have taught him from yours

• And “taught” is a bit of a stretch too

• More like offhandedly mentioned liking, and then after he hounded you for any information on it, proceeded to study and practice until he felt like he got it perfect enough to present to you

• Dedicating his talents to you is one of his favorite forms of worship

• So it doesn’t really matter if he’s played over a hundred songs and his fingers are starting to ache from the strings, if you seem happy he’s not going to stop until you ask him to or he physically can’t play anymore

• He loves taking you outside of where you’re staying too

• He prefers to be outside in nature by default anyway, hating the feeling of being trapped in a building for too long, so one of his favorite things to do is to drag you out somewhere beautiful where there isn’t anyone else

• Dandelion fields as big as lakes, actual lakes with moss and low hanging trees that just barely touched the water, up high where you can feel the wind blowing through your hair

• He knows that you have important business to attend to and that you can’t be off with him all the time, but he still tries to steal you away as often as possible

• “Hello there my muse, you know you haven’t been outside in quite some time,” he’s sporting a mischievous smile, obviously wanting nothing more than to just scoop you up and run out the closest door (or window really, he can control wind, it’ll work out)

• He wants your favor more than anything else in the world, and as such, has a tendency to get relatively jealous when that favor is shown to somebody less worthy (anybody but him)

• None of that negative emotion is directed at you of course, he could never direct any negative emotions towards you

• There are certain times where he does cross a line though

• Brushes something that he did off with a joke and a light hearted demeanor

• Maybe unintentionally undermines something but you have specifically directed him not to do

• “Well, you did say I couldn’t do anything that would hurt anyone, but not helping someone that happened to stumble off of a particularly high hill because of the wind doesn’t exactly fall on me.”

• “Venti, you control the wind—”

• When things like that do happen, the worst punishment you could possibly give him would be to ignore him

• It absolutely breaks him, not getting any acknowledgement from you

• And he won’t hesitate to beg for it

• Won’t hesitate to drop to his knees and beg for you to do, say, anything at all

• You yelling at him would be leagues better than this

• He would also gladly accept you hurting him as a punishment because it comes from you

• He’ll probably try to make up for this lack of talking by just being close to you

• You can try to shake him off, but there’s very little that can deter a desperate touched starved god

• But you have to be careful when deploying the silent treatment method cause he will get hysterical if you keep it up long enough

• Honestly, he’ll probably crack within less than a day

• At that point he’ll just be crying for you to do anything, it will take quite a bit of comfort and attention for him to calm down from that

• He does act childish sometimes, but it’s really only around you

• He’s still a God, he can still be just as cruel and uncaring as all the others when faced with someone who disrespects you

• Like all of the others, he believes that your honor is of the utmost importance

• Words float farther than most people realize, and he can hear anything on the wind

• So if somebody who was disrespecting you suddenly finds that they have an arrow in their arm, that’s none of his business

• It would probably be a lethal shot too, if not for the hell he knows he would face if you ever found out

• And of course you’re going to find out, you’re the creator

• I could probably go on forever about every single little thing because my love for him knows no bounds, but this has gotten way longer than I ever anticipated already

• If you want anything on this list expanded upon or any other aspect not added, please please please send in a requests

• And, in conclusion, you are now the owner of a very short and feral Archon who needs physical affection more than air

• So have fun with that

do the other harbingers know about capitanos little dove 👀

Capitano never brings his precious treasure to any meetings with the Harbingers, but they've seen you on your routine strolls around Snezhnaya.

For some time now, the Harbingers have been watching his comrade and a pretty maiden sitting next to each other on the same bench, at the loneliest end of the promenade on a small, icy garden that's close to the headquarters.

You two made an odd couple for sure. The first time they saw you, they thought you were lovely but too fragile and frightened, like a little mouse. Sometimes they heard you chat. You more than him, who spoke little, but fixed his attention on you.

The first to really notice you was Pantalone. When he passed by you, he couldn't see your eyes, which were constantly lowered. He only saw your long eyelashes, full of shadow and modesty. This did not prevent you from smiling while listening to some musicians performing there, and he thought there was nothing so charming as that sweet smile with downcast eyes.

The next time he came near you, you raised your eyelids, and your eyes met. What strange and endearing quality does your gaze hold? He could not have said at the time.

You lowered your eyes; he continued on his way. What he had just witnessed was not the dull emptiness of fright; but a mysterious chasm that had parted, then abruptly closed.

He learned at that moment why Capitano held on to you in such a manner.

You were lovely indeed... the loveliest, most valuable creature on earth.

Think of Me | Yan!Venti x Reader x Yan!Diluc Opera AU

Summary: Master Diluc, the infamous composer, has been the Opera's greatest star for years now, being a favorite among the elite, as well as your devoted teacher. Nevertheless, Venti's growing popularity among the masses garners your attention.

Credits: This series is heavily inspired by Andrew Lloyd Webber’s “Phantom of the Opera”, as well as Bernard Rose’s “The Devil’s Violinist”. This short fic is part of the Opera AU series. Warnings: General Dark and Yandere themes, implied stalking

“She may not remember me, but I remember her” ― "The Phantom of the Opera".

You had heard about the joyful bard that enraptured the public's attention. Known to play in the lesser of stages, as some would call them: places such as taverns, bars, and busy streets. He seemed to dislike and criticize the pretentiousness that surrounded the Opera you worked in, to the point of refusing to lend any of his compositions to be adapted to the greatest stage of all.

You met him while running your usual errands outside the Opera, a few weeks after your debut, joining the multitude comprised of people of all standings who gathered around the small plaza to listen to him play the lyre and, just like them, became instantly fascinated by his whimsical style.

He dressed... extravagantly. His clothes were mismatched and had patches from different materials, which you found endearing and sort of charming. The only thing of value he seemed to carry was his lyre and the small hat that sat on the floor to collect tips, which was filled to the brim.

After apparently recognizing you, the mysterious bard asked you to join him for a very popular love song, the type that your Maestro would think of as too mundane and corny, making you hesitate for a minute before you ended up agreeing after some pressure in the guise of encouragement from the audience.

To your surprise, never in your entire career had you had that much fun singing. His music reflected in many ways the nature you had long before Master Diluc discovered you. It had a lively, effervescent joyfulness to it. It had no need for perfection, nor the dark exigency that you had become used to with Master Diluc's complicated pieces. Its simplicity felt right and freeing, and it brought you to happier times when you practiced for the choir try-outs as a child. The melody felt like a memory, which in turn felt like home.

His gaze rested on you for the entire performance, with a strange understanding, as if he knew you from a time past and this was the culmination of a long-awaited reunion. The same type of longing look a foreigner makes after hearing someone speak the same language as them.

The melodious last note is mixed with the loud cheer from the audience, which had doubled during the song. You raise your hand over your lips as you let a small giggle escape them, slightly surprised and amused by how you'd lost yourself in the performance.

Seeking the gaze of the bard, you are, for a moment, slightly taken aback.

By what, exactly? It was hard to pin down, as his eyes had an eerie and slightly unsettling quality of grim delight, of somber joyfulness…if such words could ever be used to describe the same thing. But it gave you the feeling that, despite the triviality of this moment, something had occurred.

The cheering stops abruptly, promptly followed by startled gasps that draw your attention. The audience in front of you begins to divide into a clear line, and your heart stops at the sight of your Maestro. Your smile died down instantly.

In unconscious response to the coldness of Master Diluc's gaze, you lower your eyelids and bow your head, surveying his dark profile in secret from beneath your lashes. Silence reigned, as fascination settled in among the crowd. He had a certain quality that created a conception of him as a being with a superior understanding of everything beautiful and solemn, the one and only authority when it came to music. You yourself were tightly enmeshed by it and felt in debt to your beloved Maestro, who had miraculously condescended to favor you over the rest.

The air condensed as he approached, his slow steps matching the slow thick strokes of your heartbeat. People started to feel the awkward tension, but the young bard stood unbothered by him, a charming smile illuminating his face. They exchanged some common courtesies, and even vaguer compliments, but you could barely pay any attention to them.

Your whole perception of your surroundings was hazy at best, barely making up something along the lines of: "Maestro Diluc! I borrowed your little songbird for a tune, I'm sure you don't mind" and "You heard about me, Sir? I'm flattered!", which sounded... almost like mocking, but Master Diluc tilted his head anyways, which seemed to lift the tension for a moment.

After a short indication, you wrap your arm around his, ready to leave the small, sunny plaza for his somber candlelit kingdom. Just before you start walking, the bard gently takes your hand, raising it up to his lips.

"It truly was my pleasure, Miss."

You feel Master Diluc's arm tense immediately but says nothing as you thank your previous music partner with a small bow. As both of you turn your backs to the bard, you see him reach into his pocket and pull out a single bill, which he drops into the bard's tipping hat, skidding over the coins to the dirty floor.

"Is it true? Are you absolutely sure?"

"I saw it with my own eyes! They brought the music sheet to the Director's office, but I think it appeared in her dressing room first, signed "Venti the bard" and all. Apparently, he wants no other singer, that's his sole condition."

"I thought he didn't like Opera Houses"

"Well, something must've changed his mind."

CAPITANO rarely gets carried away. as a harbinger, he is well known for his prowess in combat and petrifying demeanor. he stands well over seven feet tall — the ominous mask adorning his face not making him look any less intimidating. his gloved hands are so large that he could crush your skull with ease if he felt like it. despite all of this, your lover is never anything but gentle with you. his hugs are soft, strokes on your hair even softer.

and yes, it even transfers into the bedroom. capitano’s touches against your skin barely put pressure against your skin — just enough to let you know he’s still there. never a rushed moment, he takes his time prepping and spoiling you from the moment he lays you back on the bed. as much as you beg him to let you pleasure him, his guttural huffs tell you that he prefers it like this. you tell him it’s okay to be rougher, to be more domineering — but is it really a good idea when his cock is larger than your forearm?

as much of a sucker as he is for you, being rough with you is something that he clearly has a problem with doing. even though a voice in the back of his head is telling him to give in, the rational part is warning him of the consequences of being selfish. you absolutely don’t care — you’re dead set on him touching you as if you’re anything but glass. hours and days of following him around and begging him shamelessly finally pay off. he begrudgingly agrees but tells you that this is what you asked for. you’re so excited by the prospect of something different that you don’t even register his warning.

oh, how you should have.

tattered blankets and the feathers of ruined pillows litter the floor and bed. the bed frame is practically caved in, the beautiful canopy above now crumbling in on itself. and the headboard? completely pulverized under capitano’s monstrous grip. even as your body is screaming for rest, he still hasn’t let up on you. now forgoing the metal mask he usually wears, he’s become a feral creature with a one-track mind. his long, slimy tongue slides itself over every inch of bare skin available to him — saliva coating your upper body and parts of your face.

how many orgasms have you had? what time was it? what day was it? you didn’t have an answer to any one of these questions. you thought that after his first two orgasms that he would be done. hah, how wrong you were. the grip that his clawed hands had on your hips was certainly going to leave many dark bruises the next day. the remains of your bedsheets below were soaked in your release, however many it was after you lost count. you were so deep into overstimulation that tears poured down your burning cheeks to mix with his spit.

it felt like his cock only kept getting bigger and bigger each time he speared it into your poor pussy. the tip hit so deep you swore that you could absolutely feel it in your guts — which wouldn’t be too far off. he seemed so entranced by the feeling of his unhinged dominance, so far gone. no matter how many times you tapped his arm to let him know you couldn’t take it, it went completely ignored. you knew that he wouldn’t stop until he was satisfied, until he had used your body like a fleshlight with no regard for anything else. the feral look in capitano’s eye only served to remind you of the words he spoke before your fate was sealed.

“this is what you asked for.”

pantalone always made a habit of asking if you wanted anything from him before going about the rest of his day. 

opulence is his vice that you’re forced to consume alongside him — he won’t stop pestering until you give in. throughout his years, he’s witnessed many courtships, his main takeaway being that gifts are well-received. the thoughtfulness that goes into making these gifts so special in the first place… he’s never been able to grasp that element of it. hence why he grants you the privilege of dictating what you want. and it is a privilege. the destitute upbringing he had makes him sensitive to you freely rejecting what he would’ve killed to have. 

you don’t want to feed his fantasies, but that just won’t do; he may cling to his pride but you cannot. 

you must ask for savory meals prepared by the finest chefs or you will be fed gruel. if you do not explicitly request fine clothes fit for royalty you will be dressed in tattered fabric. everything that was ever your possession must be upgraded, so he may prove what you worked for pales in comparison to his own wealth. it’s a constant battle between preserving yourself or allowing him to mold you to his preference. 

every morning, he comes to part the veil hanging over your bed, waking you from a dreamless slumber. and just like every morning before that, the first question on his lips is as such: 

“what shall it be today? i do hope you’ve been giving it plenty of thought.” 

SING, MY ANGEL !

squirting hcs (ft.: ayato ; childe ; zhongli ; rosaria.)

warnings: sub fem reader, overstimulation, squirting, degradation, praise, name calling, multiple rounds, in public (rosaria), spit (zhongli).

minors do not interact with this post.

Keep reading

consider - yan tighnari letting you escape, purely for the thrill of the chase. what can get his blood hot better than a hunt, especially with the promise of lovely prey?

cw: non-con, dub-con, yandere. predator/prey, chasing, knotting, other animal instincts. not sfw, minors dni. reader is afab, but no gendered terms are used.

It starts out as a question of trust. You have been so sweet to Tighnari recently; stroked his tail whilst he sat with you and curled it around him, parroted back to him that you loved him, thanked him for the food he prepares for you even though you know there are things in there that should not be. So he leaves the door unlocked.

If you do not leave, he has won, and you are truly as adoring of him as your words promise that you are. And if you do . . . well. His rut is coming in (he can feel it when he presses close to you, breathes in deeply from the crook of your neck with his ears tickling your bare skin), and it will be most satisfying to hunt you down and have his way with you when he does.

Of course, you leave.

You've only been pretending to be agreeable, after all; waiting for him to let his guard down, so that you can make your escape. You're absolutely certain of it; he trusts you too much, you're sure, to think you'd really make a run for it. And the forgotten locking of the door is a cherry on top; you'd stolen one of the pins he uses to pin butterfly specimens when he wasn't looking and had been intending to pick the lock, but this makes things so much easier.

You don't bother making plans beyond 'run'. You do not wish to be slowed down by a pack of food or supplies; and the Avidya forest was your home too, once. You know what you're doing. You know where you're going - as far away from Gandharva Ville as you can. The other Forest Watchers all adore and venerate Tighnari; you will not find any help there.

It's night, and you think that this will make it easier as your bare feet pad on soft grass, as you avoid groups of Fungi and just about manage to not stumble on twisted vines. You cut your shoulder on a low hanging branch; rip the thin shorts you're wearing on a thorny mass . . . but you keep going, and that's what's important. Endurance. Making it somewhere safe before Tighnari even knows you're missing--

There's a crack of feet on the ground, snapping a twig, some feet away.

It's not him. It can't be. He's always quiet, he'd never be so clumsy as to break a branch like that . . . it's not him. You're paranoid.

(It's him).

Tighnari's blood is running hot in his veins; his fox-predator instincts (his prey drive) excited at the thought of a chase. That you are the prize at the end of it is the cherry on top; until then, he gets to enjoy himself, lose himself in the glory of the chase. He's breathing heavily as he follows your scent, utterly wrapped up in it. The smear of blood on the branch makes him whine aloud. That's his mate's scent, his mate's blood, they're near and he needs them so badly that it hurts. If they're hurt, he'll lick their wounds (before he sinks his teeth-fangs into their shoulder himself and kisses and licks and takes them all over again).

He can hear your breath, too. Smell you. Practically see the path you've taken through the woods. He's in a heated rush, but when the scent gets so strong that it makes him feel dizzy, he can't help but want to play with you some more.

He steps on a branch. Sees the way your head snaps, your eyes wildly looking about for the source of his noise. That adorable panic on your face! You're like a little mouse, all scurrying and desperate and big-eyed and pouting in fear . . .

Foxes hunt mice.

You see the shine of his eyes in the dark before you quite realise what's going on; have just turned around to try and run when suddenly all of his weight is on you, pinning you down, hands-almost-claws scrabbling at what little you're wearing as he whines right against your ear.

"Caught you," he's panting, in between dragging his tongue over your neck, the slightly rough texture making you shiver against your will. "Shouldn't have run, flower. I . . . caught you. I won."

You try and plead with him; you're in public, you're in the middle of a clearing, you're sweaty and dirty and you're scared, please, just wait until you get back - but there's a cast over his eyes, a breathless excitement in his words even as you're losing your clothes to rips and tears of his hands. You've seen this look before. He's going into a rut, and there's going to be no stopping him.

You tearfully beg anyway, your voice coming out in whimpers and squeaks - but it's just prey noises, you're just playing, and despite how sensitive his ears are to everyone else, they just twitch happily in response to you as he nips at your neck and his hand delves between your thighs to coax slick out of you. His tail is thumping excitedly on the ground.

He's absolutely gone. There's no gentle forest watcher Tighnari left in the fox-man pinning you the forest floor; there's just animal nature. You are Tighnari's mate, he thinks; the two of you have played at being a predator and its prey. You are the prey, and Tighnari has successfully caught you, and that means he gets his reward.

He's biting at your shoulders, licking at every bare skin, huffing against you as he undoes his trousers and you feel his cock press against you. Tighnari's been 'kind' enough to assist you with a few cursory pumps of his fingers, but other than that - he pushes himself into you with a high pitched whine, and you can do nothing but lay there beneath him with his body boring down on yours and take it.

You try and squirm. You try and whimper. You try and bring him back from the edge - but the rut has well and truly hit him now, and all he is doing is pumping his hips deeper and deeper into you, whining in pleasure when your body finally relents and accepts his knot--

He's stronger than he looks. He doesn't care, when it's all over and he's come inside of you three times on the forest floor and a little haze has cleared, that he's dragging your naked body back to Gandharva Ville in broad daylight. All he cares about is that he won.

In a few days, when the rut wears off, you'll be punished for running away. Punished on top, anyway, of the puncture marks from his fangs and the soreness between your thighs, the awfully full feeling of having more than several loads of his come pumped directly into you for hours on end, the scratch marks all over your hips and back--

But right now? All he wants to do is get you back into his hut and spend the rest of it with his knot buried as deep inside of you as it will go.

If you squirm more? If you struggle a little? If you simply once more kick his prey drive to its very zenith?

. . . Cute.

You're worried about your neighbors.

Actually, that might not be the best word for it. You're absolutely concerned, but you aren't paranoid, and you would never even consider reporting them to anyone with any kind of authority, regardless of how suspicious they can be when you start looking for things to be suspicious about. There's just something... well, worrying about the Forgers, and as much as you'd hate to doubt people who've only ever been nice to you, it can be difficult to put aside everything you see, everything you hear. It can be difficult not to worry, even if you're not entirely sure what you should be worrying about.

The father, for example. He's polite, if a bit stand-offish, and you really don't want to think so negatively of the man who's always been so happy to lend you a cup of sugar or invite you over for dinner, even if his cooking does have a habit of leaving you unable to stay on your feet for more than an hour or so well into the next day. If anyone ever asked you about Loid, you'd have nothing but praise, but... you'd have to admit, if pressed, that you don't like the way he rests his hand on the small of your back, and that his stare has a way of making you feel like you're being dissected, pried open, put on display for an audience you're unable to hide yourself from. He's just so smart - whenever you complain about not being able to find some off-handed trinket, he's always able to put together just where you must've left it, even though he's never been inside your flat, much less has a chance to search for it himself. If you ever asked, you're sure there'd be some trick or psychological pattern that'd explain it away, but you never have. You'd rather die than risk insulting him, no matter how many of your things go missing in the gaps between your conversations.

And the mother, too. Yor's lovely, and you don't know if you've ever met someone so willing to help you with the little mundane things that make life so hard, like moving furniture or hauling this week's groceries up half a dozen flights of stairs. But, she can be a little too intimate, a little too prone to hugging and clinging and making sure she's always as near as she can possibly be, whether that means keeping an arm around your waist while the two of you walk back to your complex together (coincidentally, you always seem to run into her on her way home, no matter how little your schedules ever line up) or her side pressing into yours as you nurse a glass of wine, a vintage number she insisted that you try despite your attempts to gently refuse. She's nice, but a little too nice, the kind of sickly sweetness that leaves a bitter taste on your tongue for days after you speak to her, and the fact that you're nearly always speaking to her doesn't help. You'd never try to avoid her, but it just feels like she's around every corner, constantly waiting and smiling and looking for an excuse to take your hand in hers. It can just be a little much, sometimes. It just feels so draining, to have someone put so much effort into being so close to you.

Anya, meanwhile, is a miracle of a child, considering how she's been brought up. She's kind, keen, not especially bright, but you've been told she studies to the best of her limited abilities. You know, from the few times you've been asked to babysit her while both Loid and Yor are otherwise occupied, that she's an angel, even if she did inherit her father's uncanny intuition, even if she always seems to know just what's on your mind, even if you're not sure if you've ever seen a child of her age with such an intense determination, especially when it comes to edging you ever closer to her dear parents - just a child's attempts at making her little family that much bigger, you're sure. That's why you can't bring yourself to say anything, honestly, why you just can't bring yourself to move, or change your locks, or get out of bed when you hear footsteps in the middle of the night that you know you shouldn't be hearing. That's why you can't seem to do anything at all.

You're worried about your neighbors.

And, you're even more worried that they won't only be your neighbors, soon enough.

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗧 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞 !

˖˚˳⊹ spit kink feat. itto : heizou : childe : diluc : cyno : dottore : pantalone x fem! reader from the 5.5k event special

˖˚˳⊹ warnings: nsfw : messy : spit spit spit

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗢

itto could never deny the fact that he absolutely adored it whenever things would turn messy. Not to mention while eating you out! he wouldn’t even dare to touch your sobbing cunt before remotely spitting on your glistering folds to rub it around your bundle of nerves with tight painfully slow strokes. "Itto."you’re mewling at him, hands flying to his unruly hair and finding refuge around his horns to pull him closer against your throbbing pussy. He’s only humming an answer, way too gone in the taste of your juices around his tongue.

for a moment, itto is refraining his movements, pulling away to brush the mounds of spit, —that was covering his cheeks n lips—, away with the back of his hand. He’s grinning at you all confidently, knowing just how much you desired his mouth back on your pussy by the way you were sinfully mewling at him, twisting and turning around the bed and grabbing onto the disheveled sheets underneath the both of you for some sort of release. He’s quick to follow, collecting another load of spit in his mouth before messily letting it fall down your aching warmth. The way it coated your folds was feeling so unbelievably sinful, tickling you in a way before itto pushed himself back into you, making it his duty to let you release against his needy tongue.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗭𝗢𝗨

"care for another taste?" that particular question rolled of heizou’s tongue so fucking sinfully. In a way it didn‘t even sound like a question, but more than a thought that crossed his mind. You were quick to open up your mouth again, pushing your tongue out to let heizou have better access to what’s about to come. He’s slowly advancing a bit forward to be properly in front of your face before a bulb of spit left past his lips, expertly dropping down your tongue. 

"come on now." the big grin on his face was unable to be ignored, he wanted you to see just how much he enjoyed being in control of this situation, "swallow." you gave him a little nod as an answer before swallowing everything he gave you, evolving into a panting mess underneath the man who was very much pleased with your obedience. "you‘re so good, so dreamy, love." his breathing became a bit faster from the mere sight of you swallowing his spit without a care in the world before heizou closed the distance between the both of you, deeply kissing your needy state and biting down harshly on your lower lip only to pull it back with his teeth, gazes meeting each other again.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗗𝗘

fuck, he’s so lost in your cunt right now. Ajax adored the way you tasted around his tongue, could eat you out every day whenever your heart craved for it. He’s swirling his tongue lightly over your bundle of nerves, ever so often grazing around them with his teeth to coax out another moan from you that sounded utterly beautiful to him. Yet what he desired even more was to spit into your mouth right after he made you cum. In a way it was perverted, he figured, yet he couldn’t shake off the addicting feeling he gets whenever he’d do it.

ajax’s slow with it, really, placing a soft loving peck on your cunt before advancing forward to be face to face with his precious angel. You’re so beautiful to him, eyes hazy and dwelling with tears from your previous releases, his thumb feeling up your cheeks before meeting your plump lips, pushing against them to pry your mouth open. He was so drunk on love and neediness right now, carefully letting a bulb of saliva loose from his mouth until it hit the tip of your tongue, spit melting together with your own before you decided to swallow it in front of him and archons, his view was threatening to turn white in said scenario, that’s how far gone he was right now.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗗𝗜𝗟𝗨𝗖

your moans sounded like music to diluc’s ears, so bright and eager, while his fat cock was digging even deeper into your tight cunt. Your body was shivering violently, messy twisted sheets stained with both your juices and his cum when diluc pulled you closer into his embrace. For a moment he propped himself up with his arms to kneel in between your thighs, looking down to where your bodies connected to see his throbbing cock still deep inside of you, your hole sobbing around his girth and trying your utterly hardest to keep him in. 

he could get lost in the sight before him, your little whines once he stilled his movements were only the icing. He feels so warm and big, grinding his cock against you now before collecting some spit in his mouth, the saliva trailing from his lips to the bundle of nerves, spreading it with his thumb before doing it again, only stopping when he feels like you’re properly marked up. Once he’s done he’d drop his whole weight on top of you again, resulting in you mewling out screaming at the way he was completely sheathed into your sobbing cunt now. Diluc’s arms were caging you in, his warmth radiating through your own when he picked up on pace again.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗖𝗬𝗡𝗢

cyno will always have you spread on the bed, soft bedsheets enveloping your figure and hugging the natural curves of your body while he was hovering over you. He hates to say it but, he had an obvious desire to mark you up, more so in many more ways than simply giving you a hickey here and there. Cyno thinks its arousing in a way, to make you swallow not only his cum but his spit once you’re done with sucking him off. You’re currently laying flat on the bed with cyno caging you in with his legs, hovering above you while fisting his cock in front of your face.

he’s so slow with it too, wants you to look at him while he’s pleasuring himself so sinfully before prying your mouth open with the tip of his dick, pushing himself into your wet warmth until he’s fully buried inside of you. You’re taking him like his good little darling, hollowing your cheeks whenever it’d hit the back of your throat before releasing him with a lewd pop. Cyno wants to lock gazes with you, a ball of spit escaping from past his lips, —that had a cute rosy tint— before letting it drop down your tongue, melting with your own saliva when you resumed in sucking him off further. His head is thrown back by now, practically tasting his climax before finally releasing his seed deep inside your throat, pulling you closer until your nose hit his stomach and archons, the way his warm cum ran down your aching throat was beyond pornographic, but more importantly, so fucking addicting. 

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗗𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗘

dottore thinks it’s some sort of blessing if he decides to spit on your cunt to make you even wetter for him. The way it’ll mix together with your juices was so fucking hot in his eyes, couldn’t relish in it enough, really. It will not only resume in him spitting once, but multiple times before he seems satisfied with it. His fingers would carefully graze over your thighs to tease you before hitting your glistering folds, drawing hard n painfully slow circles at your clit to combine the two substances together.

It’s almost as if he was using your body as a test subject to conduct researches on you, would probably even admit to it if you were to ask. His hard cock, —that had a big vein around its shaft—, was now rubbing around your hole, prodding his tip in to see your reaction, making a mental note to never forget how you reacted to his sweet little teasing. Other than that, dottore wasn’t really putting your pleasure first, making it viewable as he snapped himself forward with a single motion, fully tucked into your warm cunt and going in a relentless pace now. You should be thankful he even prepared you for him, so if it was only him who was to cum tonight, you wouldn’t mind, right? As long as he was satisfied.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗘

he always wants you to suck him off while he’s deeply concentrated in his paperwork, it was almost a daily thing pantalone seeked from you. If there was something he actually disliked the most, it was when it seemed like you weren‘t really there in the moment, he’ll give you plus points if you’re messy with him though. You see, he’s very calculating, always watching your expressions and trying to decipher them in every way imaginable. You’re hollowing your cheeks up while simultaneously swirling your tongue over his big girth, fuck, how he adored it whenever you hit him with that certain technique, he taught you well after all. 

your saliva pooling down from the corners of your lips until they reach your chin— he’s quick to catch it, swiping it away with his thumb to taste it on his tongue. The sight in front of you made you clench your thighs together, trying to feel some sort of pleasure yourself. He hasn’t touched you in so long! Maybe if you’re putting on a really good show tonight he might reward you just how he always did whenever you did something very well. "Stop." he‘s demanding with that word, pantalone pulled himself out of your wet warmth to replace them with his gloved fingers, splitting your mouth open to spit in it aggressively, without any shame. "don‘t swallow yet." he‘s commanding, —yet so handsome—, examining how your tongue is prodding lightly out, trying your best to suppress yourself from swallowing his saliva before he finally gave you a silent nod, a sort of confirmation that you were allowed to taste it properly now. "you‘re so obedient." saying that with his infamous pseudo smile which was painted all over his beautiful facial features. 

5.5k event special

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

Jealous Venti stuff cause I'm on that rn

Warnings: general sagau, possessiveness I suppose, mild codependency

-

Obviously you can only split your attention so many directions, it was inevitable something would eventually slip through.

Venti was just so sure it would never be him, and yet...

Five minutes was nothing, not in the face of the eternity he'd been waiting before you descended.

He mental cringed at how much like Ei that sounded.

Five minutes turned to ten, which soon rolled over into twenty. But he was nothing if not dutiful, or perhaps that was just another way of saying obsessive.

Dutiful, obsessive, completely and utterly infatuated, what did the wording matter, the end result was the same. The end result was him willing to stand outside your chamber door all night, if only to confirm you had really slept somewhere else, potentially even with someone else.

It made him nauseous. Worse than nauseous. It made him feel as if a black hole was consuming him from the inside, tearing his body apart at an atomic level.

That was a normal thing to feel, right? A deep set hatred, one he never even thought himself capable of, when your attention was anywhere but him.

Not at you, god never at you. The day he started feeling anything less than complete bliss at simply the thought of you was the day he'd die, by his own hands if it came to that.

No it wasn't you, it was everything else, every single thing in the entire never ending universe that wasn't you or him simply didn't matter. It didn't deserve the emotional energy that would be wasted, that would be better spent on you.

It was around the two hour mark now, 7,243 second to be more precise.

Venti's legs were starting to hurt, his unwillingness to move even the slightest centimeter until he finally layed eyes on you was catching up to him.

You should have been back by now...

He played with the idea of going to look for you himself multiple times throughout the past two hours, but the thought of being gone when you did finally return, the thought of you closing your chamber door in order to rest, effectively barring him from seeing you until morning—

His waiting did finally pay off, the sight of you entering his peripheral, his ability to breathe halting momentarily.

It took only a mere two seconds before you were no longer on your feet, knocked to the ground with the force of a thousand winds, or at least the one who controlled them.

"Venti??"

"Where were you?"

It was said with such unfiltered sadness from where he lay on top of you, his hands snaking around your waist so your position was something closer to a hug.

"I— I was with Kaeya—" You stuttered, thrown slightly off guard.

Venti's grip noticeably tightened.

You regained your composure and elaborated, "After the meeting, which went on for longer than expected, he wanted to update me on a Treasure Hoarder situation that was being monitored."

You weren't particularly surprised by Venti's sudden display of affection, but the fact he didn't even wait until you were inside your bedroom was a bit suspicious.

"You shouldn't be bothered with that," he was quick to retort, a mild venom lacing his words, "It's his job, is Kaeya so incompetent that he has to rope you into such trivial matters?"

'He was just doing it so he could spend more time with you.'

That part went unspoken, its implication hanging in the air.

You were starting to see a bit more of the picture, maneuvering yourself to a sitting up position with a sigh and allowing him to wordlessly crawl into your lap, burying his face against you as you stroked his hair.

"I promise you it was something that required my attention, but I'm sorry for making you wait nonetheless."

Venti let out a hum, seemingly satisfied with your answer, or maybe it was just the fact he couldn't be anything but wholly happy in this position if he tried.

The repetitive movement of finger gliding through his hair halted for a moment, it was only a moment but fear immediately coursed through him at the thought of you pulling away.

"Maybe we could move out of the middle of the hallway now?"

Oh. Right. You were both still on the floor. Although, in your embrace, he could have been in the depths of the abyss itself and wouldn't have bothered to notice.

You got a small, almost completely unnoticeable nod in return, choosing to cautiously return to a standing position as Venti's hold barely loosened.

It would be practically impossible to walk even five feet like this, so you opted on deploying strategy A, created for this exact situation after the fifth time it happened.

You moved your hand to brush over his face, catching his attention as he pulled back just enough to allow you to position it under his chin, as you then pushed his head up to his eyes met yours.

An unknown question died in his throat as your lips quickly captured his own, it only took half a second before he melted into it, succumbing to all the glory that was you.

You waited a second longer before pulling away, ensuring that he would be too out of it to try and stop you.

Just as you expected, he was practically putty, allowing you to simply drag him along as he slowly came down from that high. The next thing he consciously registered was he was somehow in your room, laying at the foot of your bed as you exited bathroom with a pair of pajamas on.

"Your grace please..." Venti whined, the realization that you took advantage of his blissed out state, albeit not in the way he would have liked, dawning. "That's not fair..."

"Well I'm sorry that the bed is more comfortable than the hallway floor."

Once you finally situated yourself in a comfortable position Venti went back to draping himself on top of you, resting his head between your shoulder and neck, soaking up all warmth you provided.

It only took a minute for him to remember why you were late again, unpleasant feelings once again festering.

"You know," Venti started, his breath against your neck causing you to shiver, "If Treasure Hoarders are the reason, maybe I should just take care of them tomorrow, since Kaeya can't seem to."

The last part of that was mumbled, but audible nonetheless. You let out a hum in response.

"I don't think that's necessary."

Well that hurt.

Did you not think he was capable? Had he not proven himself time and time again to be incredibly capable of taking care of some of the less than pleasant problems you faced? Did you think Kaeya was more capable than him???

"Your grace, I'm not quite sure you understand my intentions."

Venti was quick to grab your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it with a wink. "I would make the world bleed for you. I want you to rely on me."

You almost felt the need to laugh, someone offering to be your rock to lean on? To be your solid ground amidst a sea of uncertainty? A part of you found it amusing, and a part of you found it sad.

Venti seemed to read your blatant apprehension.

"No one else matters," he continued, "No one ever will. I could make everything about you."

He moved his head to face you, so you could see how genuine his eyes were.

"You wouldn't have to worry about anything, ever." He inched closer with every word, "Not the Treasure Hoarders, not Kaeya or the knights or Mondstadt. I'd take care of it all." Venti finished, his lips barely a hairs breath away from yours, wanting that small gap to close but never taking.

You want it, him, the promise he gives but could never keep. That was just the problem wasn't it, your wants didn't matter, you had a role to fill.

You pulled away, the rift between you growing, Venti let out a pained sigh.

"Do you really hate me that much?"

He sounded genuinely heartbroken, as if he would much prefer you to have physically hurt him than even insinuate you didn't want to touch him.

"You know I don't." You replied in an exhausted tone, "If the circumstances were different, if I wasn't me, there would be nothing that could stop me from taking you up on that. But I can't abandon them, and it's not fair to ask you to pick up the slack."

Venti's face darkened, of course they were the problem, they would always be the problem.

"So selfless..." There was a bitter tone to his voice, a bite that challenged anyone who wanted to even try and stop him from taking you all to himself, "They don't deserve it."

You winced slightly at his tone, a movement he felt. He offered an apology in the form of soft kisses pressed against your collarbone, lazy movements as his hair tickled your neck.

You bit back a giggle, feeling his actions leading him up your neck, then to your jaw, eventually peppeing your face while intentionally avoiding your lips.

"Venti! Venti Venti it tickles!" You squeaked out laughing, unable to stop at how you felt him smile against you.

He pressed a final kiss to you forehead, drawing that one out before pulling back, his expression once again going somber.

"I'm being honest you know, just say the word, I'll take care of everything you could ever want, I'd do it all for you in a heartbeat. You'd never have to rely on anyone else, no more incompetent untrustworthy people that don't even deserve to look at you. I could deal with anyone who tries to come between that. I'm an Archon, your Archon, use me like one."

It was enticing, but then again when was he not. The visual image of living something of a normal life, Venti being there to ensure it. No longer being the foundation which the entire world happily rested on, instead using him as your foundation.

It was a nice thought, but that's how it would remain.

"Come on, let's sleep, I'm tired."

That statement was more truthful than anyone could ever imagine, you were tired, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, all four at once.

A tiny part of you hoped, as much as you didn't feel you deserved it, that when you did finally crack, when the foundation you had forged yourself into finally reached its weight capacity, it would be his arms that you would fall into.