Dont Mind If I Do 👀

This is the good shit right here literally chef kiss 🤌✨

aries,,i need to know ur thoughts on sneaking into a supply closet w aki while there are literal devils outside trying to break down the door …

sin supplier | hayakawa aki

PAIRING.  aki x fem!reader

LENGTH.  3.6k words

NOTES.  this is just. so horny laksdlk im sorry

SYNOPSIS.  aki knows he shouldn’t, but he just can’t help himself. 

CONTENT.  pwp, power imbalance (aki is the reader’s superior, but the reader has the upper hand for most of the fic), switchy dynamics (reader initiates and instructs), foreplay + teasing, dubcon (reader has persuasion/mind control abilities through a contract with a corruption devil), intoxication (aki’s state of mind is influenced by the reader’s abilities), slight corruption (m rec), blowjob, deep throating, cum swallowing, handjob, overstim (m rec), multiple orgasms (m + f), thigh fucking, cumshot, cum as lube, creampie, (unintentional) manhandling, ripping clothes, spit, biting (f rec), reader is insatiable and just generally insufferable

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU ARE A MINOR. BY CLICKING THE READMORE, YOU CONSENT TO VIEWING THE CONTENT STATED IN THE WARNINGS.

Aki knows he shouldn’t. 

He shouldn’t be condoning this, not when there are dozens of little Devils scratching at the door, bloodthirsty and desperate to get in—the same Devils the two of you were sent to this decaying old school to take care of. The same Devils the two of you were right in the middle of hunting down, when you’d pulled him into this crowded supply closet and kicked the heavy door closed behind you.

In the end, the Devils had been the ones to hunt the two of you down instead, and now they’re all congregated right outside the door to the supply closet. Attracted by the scent of his unease, if he had to guess. Or maybe another, more devilish, instinct that lies beneath it.

Aki shouldn’t be alone in small, dark rooms with any of his subordinates. Especially not you.

You: the Corruption Devil’s human consort—Division 6’s problem before the transfer made you Aki’s problem. And there’s no question that you are a problem; that much had become clear when he’d discovered exactly what ability your contract gives you.

You call it Persuasion; he’d call it Mind Control: an uncanny knack for getting exactly what you want, especially when it comes to things that shouldn’t be done. More specifically, your contract with the Corruption Devil—one of your many contracts with many dubious Devils, and arguably the most dodgy one of them all—grants you a certain, near-irresistible allure: you make people want to give you exactly what you want.

Near-irresistible. Not impossible to resist. There has to be some natural element of attraction present for Persuasion to really work. That’s what Aki knows from what he read in the paperwork, at least. 

He also knows that, as your superior, there’s no way in hell he should be letting you back him up against the supply shelf behind him—but the metal’s already digging into his back, and your fingers are pulling at the knot of his tie, working it loose. 

The insistent scratching at the door grows louder, and Aki manages a strained What the hell do you think you’re doing? 

“Depends, boss,” you offer sweetly, moving closer until your tits are pressed up against him. “What is it that you want me to do?” 

“This is…”

Inappropriate? Untimely? Fucking insane? Something like that; but his head’s cloudy and getting cloudier, and he loses the words as soon as you get on your tiptoes to press your lips to his throat, scattering hot kisses there as you undo the buttons of his shirt. 

He shudders, bringing a hesitant hand up to squeeze at the back of your neck—encouragement that he shouldn’t be giving, but the feeling of your tongue on his neck sends blood rushing between his thighs, and the space between the two of you so small that his stiffening cock is aching as it strains against your body. 

He knows this is risky in more ways than one: that the noises outside this tiny room keep getting louder, that the door won’t hold, that this shouldn’t be happening; but all these little things that he knows don’t mean a single thing when you’re murmuring up to him—Oh, you’re so hard. You know, I can help you out, Captain. 

Whatever misgivings he might have don’t stand a chance when you’re rubbing his cock through his slacks, and he can feel the grip of that allure—Persuasion—tightening the closer you get. Desire shoots through his veins like a drug, heightening into an insatiable craving for you, you, you—tunnel vision that narrows, senses that sharpen until all he can see, smell, hear is you. It’s a desire so intense that just the smell of you hits him with the dizzying urge for more.

And something else: an ache to please—the irresistible imperative to give you exactly what you want, whatever you want.

By now, Aki understands something that wasn’t in the paperwork: that your ability must grow stronger with proximity—and if it’s a concentrated, airborne vapor that somehow emanates from your skin like he thinks, he must be right in the thick of it. But he’s past the point of caring about which desires are natural and which aren’t; he’s already feeling you—one hand still wrapped around the back of your neck, the other slipping down the small of your back to squeeze your ass. 

And he shouldn’t, it’s not like him, but all he cares about is one thing.

It’s definitely not the banging at the door, which he only registers dully, managing the weakest of protests—They’re right there—as you sink down to your knees in front of him.

You look up with an insincere pout, retort with an equally insincere, “What’s right there, Captain?”

“The fucking Devils,” he slurs, “they’re—”

But you’re running your tongue over the stiff bulge in his slacks, and the heat of your mouth is hitting his dick through the fabric, and he’s cutting himself off with a groan.

“Are you really that worried about it?” you tease up to him. “I never thought a guy like you would stress over small fry like that. Plus, don’t you have some…” —you pause, squeezing his cock through his slacks, sending precum oozing down his thigh— “...bigger problems?” 

Another slam against the door. He wants you so badly he can barely even bring himself to say, This isn’t—I should really—

And even then, it doesn’t sound that convincing.

“Should really what?” you muse, pulling his zipper free.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know what he should do; he only knows that he wants you to keep going, that you’re tugging his slacks down to pull his cock out, and it feels so good when you grip the throbbing shaft that he’s oozing precum all over your fingers and moaning before you even start to jerk it. 

“You should really take care of those Devils, right?” you laugh, leaning forward to spit messily on the tip of his dick, smiling up at him when he inhales sharply through his teeth. “Go do something about them, then,” you say—spit coating the length of his cock as you stroke it, spit glistening on your upturned lips in the half-dark—it’s a dare.

In those truth-or-dare games as a kid, Aki would always choose truth; he’s come to terms with the truth of this situation—that he should take care of the things beyond this room, but all he cares about is what’s happening inside of it. 

He’s too far gone, too hooked on the feeling of your mouth as you swallow up his dick. All the way, until the tip of your nose hits his pelvis and he’s twitching in your throat, leaking hot precum balls-deep in your mouth. You pull back when you have to gag, then swallow it again—bobbing your head over and over, leaving him covered in spit and moaning from the soft, wet flesh of your cheeks and your tongue on his cock. It’s so good; you fuck him with your mouth until he’s one swallow away from cumming down your throat.

He holds it, tries to pull out, slurring, God, I’m gonna—, but you ball your hands up in the fabric of his shirt to pull him forward, sucking him in to the base again; and he’s knotting his hands up in your hair, groaning—You wanna swallow my cum? 

You gargle around it, digging your nails into his skin. So he stays where he is—one hand resting on the back of your head, his dick buried in your mouth—and lets the pleasure hit, twitching against the tight ridges of your throat with each spurt of cum he shoots into you. 

You cough, choking on it over and over, with tears pooling in your eyes. But you keep it down until he’s done, swallowing almost everything he gives you, so there’s just a little pool of thick white left on your tongue when he pulls out. The sight of his cum in your mouth sends his head spinning, sends more blood between his thighs—but he’s still hard, never went soft; he wonders, studying you through lashes weighed down by pleasure, if it’s a result of whatever you’re emanating, or if he just wants you that badly. 

He pants, tries to catch his breath, but he doesn’t even have time to do that before you wrap your fingers around his cum-coated dick. He grits his teeth, swears at the intensity, watching you tilt your head, part your lips, and adjust to take his balls in your mouth. It’s sloppy, messy: sucking him with spit dripping from the corners of your mouth and your fist slippery with cum as you jack the sensitive tip of his cock. 

It’s—ah, fuck—it’s—

It’s too much, it’s so good; something in between the two. He’s groaning, gripping the metal of the shelf behind him as another high builds, intensifying when you start to moan with your mouth full of him—a needy, muffled sound that goes straight to his head and clouds whatever coherent space might have been left with one urge: he needs to fuck you.

Something hits the door from the outside with enough impact to make the hinges groan.

Fuck, he slurs feverishly. It’s not gonna hold, c’mere, get up. 

You’re up, pulling him down by the collar and into a sloppy kiss; he tastes his cum on your tongue, feels the desire flare in his chest like he took a hit, runs his hands down your sides.

So are you gonna fuck me? you ask, pulling away to look up at him through your lashes. Or are you gonna stall until the door breaks?

His hands catch your hips; he squeezes, twists you around before pushing you forward against the metal with enough force to send supplies rattling off the sides of the shelf and crashing to the floor.

“Shit,” he says hazily, so drunk on the intensity of the want in his veins, his head so muddled with it that he’s worried maybe he hurt you. “Are you okay?”

But you’re laughing, hands tight on the metal; he dips his neck down to bury his face in your throat, to get closer. Because the closer he gets, the more intoxicating the smell of you is—the more addicting.

“Attaboy, Captain,” he hears. There’s a buzz in your voice, as if he’s hearing you through static. “To be honest, I didn’t really think you had it in you.”

He takes a deep inhale of the dizzying, up-close smell of your skin, and slurs, “Why’s that?” 

“You’re Public Safety’s good boy, aren’t you? Proper, moral, obedient. I know you play by the rules. You do whatever they tell you.”

He’s sucking at the skin of your throat, pulling blood to the surface over and over, and you’re laughing, “But look at you now. Getting your dick wet on a mission. Fucking the subordinate you’re supposed to be protecting.” 

He laughs wryly against your throat. “God,” he murmurs. “You’re such a pain in my ass, did you know that? This is all because of you.”

“You’re as depraved as they get,” —your words are shaky, disrupted by your shudders as he nips at your throat; he runs his tongue over the skin, feels an instant head high the moment he tastes you— “but I like it for you. Keep going.”

The taste of you is like an addiction; he can’t get enough, keeps licking and sucking your skin and getting himself higher.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he says without thinking, barely even in his head; his body seems to move on its own, his hand slipping down the front of your slacks to rub over your pussy through the fabric. “How long have you been wanting this?” 

There’s a series of bumps at the door as he unbuttons your slacks, pulls your zipper down, hooks his thumbs over the sides and pulls them down, bringing your panties down with them. His dick leaks precum onto the bare skin of your ass. 

“It’s been—” you say, breaths catching when he positions his cock at the apex of your thighs from behind and slides in between them, “—it’s been a while.”

“Yeah,” he slurs, with his dick throbbing between your thighs—slick from your pussy, hot from your warmth, “I thought so.”

He spares a glance back at the door, watching the shadows swarming in the sliver of light beneath it; he’s running out of time, but he could spend forever nestled between your thighs, feeling the slick from your pussy dribbling out onto his dick, getting the shaft sticky and warm. He places one hand on the shelf next to yours, rests his weight there as he sucks your throat, each second at that proximity getting him drunker.

“Don’t act like you haven’t wanted it, too,” he hears you say through the fog in his head, each sentence punctuated by a gasp. “Just because you never acted on it doesn’t mean you didn’t want to. My Devil shows me how easy someone would be to Persuade. I know exactly how much attraction is already there. I barely even had to do anything and look at you—I could give you any command in the world and you’d do it.” 

His free hand is on your tits now, squeezing, kneading. “So why don’t you?” he murmurs.

You laugh a little. “Okay.” And then comes the command: “Touch me.” 

The urge surges in his chest—the imperative so compelling that he forgets all about the buttons on your shirt and instead balls his fist up in the fabric right where it is and pulls, tearing your shirt open. Your buttons go flying: some to the shelf, some to the floor; but he doesn’t apologize this time, just slips his hand through the opening in your shirt to pull down your bra and knead your tits. They’re warm in his palm, soft enough to make his dick pulse against your ass.

“And what else do you want?” he murmurs.

“Move,” you instruct. “Don’t make me wait.”

You were right; he is obedient, he does follow instructions—especially when you’re the one giving them, especially right now, with the fog in his head and that control of yours overwhelming him. He does just what you ask—moves: licks the fingers of his free hand and brings them to your clit to circle it as he fucks the slippery space between your thighs, sliding his dick back and forth until he’s coated in your sticky, hot mess.

“I’ve got the most morally upstanding guy in Public Safety,” you laugh shakily, squeezing your legs around his dick, “and he’s right between my thighs.” 

“Can you blame me?” he says hazily against your ear, overtaken by the desire for more instruction, another opportunity to please. “I just wanna give you everything you want.” 

There’s a cracking sound at the door: wood splintering, maybe, but he doesn’t care about that when you’re saying, I want you to put it in, I want to feel your cock stretching me out. 

That little half-gasp, half-moan when he pushes past your tight entrance; the feeling of you clenching on his dick, your gooey walls sucking him deeper as he eases into you—it’s overwhelming. It’s almost as addicting as the smell of you, as the sounds you make when he fucks you up against the shelf, nipping at your ear and asking—Is this what you wanted from me? 

Yeah, you gasp, now fuck it deeper.

And he does; he buries his cock all the way in you over and over, slurring, Spoiled brat, you always get exactly what you want, don’t you?

Always.

And what do you want now, huh—do you want me to make you cum?

You slur an affirmative with his fingers rubbing your clit, so he fucks you harder—hitting some spot that makes you moan Right there. A few more deep strokes in the same place and then you’re cumming: walls pulsing around his dick, gasping and moaning and squirming, pressed up between him and the shelves; it takes everything in him not to pump you full while he fucks you through it. 

He pulls out when it’s over, but you whine for more: Put it back in, I want you to fuck me until you cum. 

So he pulls you over to the little desk sitting beside the shelf, pushes the things on it to the floor in the same second that he bends you feverishly over the surface. You’re laid out over it, hand gripping the opposite edge, and he watches it tighten as he nudges your hips up and eases back into you.

Whatever you want, baby. 

He buries it deep, feels your sensitive walls tense up as he leans over you—one fist balled up on the desk, the other gripping your hip. There’s a crash at the door, another loud crack; but you’re turning your head to him and he’s tilting his, slipping his tongue into your mouth to swallow up your moans as he fucks you from behind. 

And when he pulls away to nip at your lips you’re slurring instructions: fuck me deeper, fuck me harder, give it to me. Each little command makes his head spin; the grip you have on him is so strong, and your pussy is eating him up so greedily—how could he not give it to you exactly how you want it? How could he not fuck you deeper, harder, give it to you until your thighs are shaking, until everything’s so wet and tight and your moans are turning into pleas? 

It feels so good fucking into you that when you tell him to shoot his cum all over your pussy it only takes one more thrust before he’s ready to give it to you; and then he’s pulling out, breaths catching, jerking his fist over his cock until the tension snaps. His cum spurts out onto you—coats your puffy, glistening lips and stretched hole in a sticky white mess.

He leans over you: fucked out, head hazy, his dick still twitching in his palm—still hard as he watches his cum dribble down the outside of your pussy. And when you tell him to fuck you again—put it back in, I want more, make me cum again—he drags the sensitive tip through his own cum, smears it over your hole, and pushes it back into you while it’s still hot. 

Hot and—God, it’s wet, he’s groaning; it’s wet and tight and so slick in you, so lubed up with your juices and all of the cum he pushed back inside that the thick white liquid smears back onto his cock with each stroke, gathering all over the shaft and the base. He grips your ass, spreads you out, watches the rest of his cum drip down your skin, watches his cock disappear into your pussy with his teeth gritted against the sensitivity; it’s too much, but he’s so feverish with the urge to give you what you want that he’ll take it. 

He’s panting from the overstimulation, but by the time you tell him you’re close—bent over the desk with your fingers on your clit and your back arching—the pleasure’s building up again for him too, another knot tightening in his stomach. 

So when you gasp I’m cumming, and he feels the waves of another orgasm hitting you—your cum-slick walls contracting on his cock over and over—he’s right there. He’s already on the edge when you slur, Cum inside me, fill me up. 

Yeah, baby, yeah—he digs his teeth into your shoulder, and the tension snaps; with a shudder, he shoves his cock in deep and lets your convulsing walls milk him while you cum, pumping you full of the rest of it as he rides the same wave that’s making you squirm under him.

There’s a pause: just a few moments of respite.

His breaths slow as he listens to you catch yours, and for a second even the Devils are quiet.

And then there’s a deafening crash and another loud splintering sound—the door’s going to give. He’s still breathing hard as he disentangles himself from you; then he’s pulling up his slacks, buttoning his shirt and crossing the room to swipe his sword off the floor. 

“They’re about to break through,” he says, looking your way to find you reclining lazily on top of the desk. “You should get ready.”

He fixes his face with a stern expression, but for a split second he wonders about this feeling he has: the grip, the imperative—the Persuasion—is gone, but the desire lingers. 

“Can’t you take care of those Devils for me, Captain?” you smile crookedly, gesturing to your tattered shirt. “I can’t really work like this. Wouldn’t be professional.” 

Aki clenches his jaw. “You make this job even harder than it already is. You know that?”

“How so?” 

“Slovenly. Insolent. Lazy. Not to mention—”

“Gee,” you interrupt. “No wonder you like me so much.”

“Can’t stand you, actually,” he mutters, glancing at the door, which is rocking in its frame from repeated impact on the other side.

“My Devil doesn’t lie to me,” you say, studying your nails. “You’ve wanted me since the moment I joined your Division.”

“God, you’re a pain,” he says wearily as another deafening crash puts a massive crack in the door. “I’m this close to killing you instead of them.” 

“You could’ve killed them already if you weren’t wasting all your time flirting with me.”

You laugh when he rolls his eyes, then twist your face into an exaggerated pout. “Won’t you protect me, Captain?”

“Fine. I’ll take care of it by myself. Not like you’re giving me a choice.”

“Perfect.”

“But when I’m done,” he says, pulling his sword from its holster, “I think it’s time I taught you some manners.”

You smile widely.

“Yes, sir.”

Low Battery Warning - Touch Starved HCs

— If he goes too long without you by his side, he starts to get irritable and too frustrating for anyone to deal with. For the sake of everyone, please remember to recharge your battery before leaving for extended periods of time.

— Tartaglia, Kaveh, Ayato, Alhaitham, and Dottore

[Masterlist]

I JUST WANT TO WRITE WHIPPED MEN OKAY? What do you mean I have to write a part 2 for two different fics??? I'm honestly surprised I managed to finish this. Also, ALHAITHAM NATION REJOICE, YOUR BOY IS HERE AND I CAN FINALLY MAKE A BANNER. I wasn't going to write him (I'm a kaveh stan) but now that he's here...

Tartaglia

While Tartaglia is the most favored to work with compared to the other Harbingers, that's only by a very slim margin. The closest you'll get to death is when the man gets bored and randomly picks someone to fight, but they usually make it out alive. Maybe a couple weeks in the medical bay and a few broken bones but they aren't dead for the most part. He's also the youngest and therefore the most easy-going even if he's a bit childish. He's a soldier first so he knows the pain of listening to someone verbally beat you down and not having the power to do anything back. But he's still a person at the end of the day and after so many people messing up and delaying his work, he's starting to get irritated. First, it was someone spilling tea onto important documents that he just finished signing, then the Fatui agents stationed near Jueyun Karst being defeated by some no-named treasure hoarders, and then finally being held hostage in his own office because the Liyue Qixing wouldn't leave him alone. God, he slumps over his desk, he just wants to go home and see you!

By the time he finally stumbles through the door, you're already passed out on the couch. He can't blame you, it's very late into the night and he would probably be more upset if you forced yourself to stay awake just to welcome him home. But he can still pout that he was taken away from you for so long, he didn't even get to see you all day. That's borderline torture. But he supposes he can forgive you since you look so cute bundled up in his red shirt. If he happens to take a picture or two that's for his knowledge and eyes only. So he easily scoops you up into his arms, taking a couple seconds to just stand there as he basks in the comfortable weight before he takes you to bed. Just for tonight. This will be the last time work takes him away from home for so long.

It lasts for two weeks. Usually, Childe could hold himself together, he's been away for far longer, but the fact that you're right there and he can't hold you is driving him insane. By the 14th day, Childe is ready to snap his pen in half and hurl it at the next person that comes through that cursed door. He doesn't though because it's usually Ekaterina, the only one that has the balls to talk to him right now, and she deserves far more than she's paid to deal with. But he's touch-deprived and tired. Even Zhongli with his infinite amount of patience advises him to sort himself out before inviting him out to lunch next time. He tried to deal with it on his own, this isn't the first time he's felt claustrophobic, but after the fifth Hilichurl camp he doesn't feel any better which only makes his mood sour further. He might even beat Scaramouche in how short-tempered he is right now. There's heavy air wherever he goes and whatever carefree persona he usually has on is thrown out the window.

It's Zhongli who clues you into how bad Childe's demeanor has gotten, the rascal looks horrible both physically and mentally. Despite the consultant and Childe being on friendly terms, you don't really know the man that well. But he doesn't seem like the type of person to lie so you thank him for the information and make your way to the Northland Bank. To be honest, you've been feeling the effects of not seeing Childe as often as you usually do. You know his work can get so hectic that it keeps him cooped up in his office but it's been a while since you've even seen that fluff of ginger hair. He usually doesn't want you near his work considering how it might put you in danger, but if he isn't taking care of himself then what kind of partner would you be if you didn't help?

Even outside the building, you can feel the effects of what Zhongli talked about. All the agents look like they're on their last legs, there's a gloomy atmosphere surrounding the building even though the sun shines brightly across Liyue harbor, and you can vaguely hear an annoyed Harbinger scolding someone. As soon as you set foot into the building Ekaterina nearly tackles you off your feet. Desperately thanking you for coming and looking at you as if you're the Tsaritsa herself.

As soon as Ekaterina says your name, Childe whips his head around at such a speed that you're afraid his head might fling off as his eyes lock onto yours. You know Childe wouldn't hurt you, never you, but he's looking at you like he's about to devour you and you're suddenly very glad you've never been on the receiving end of his anger. He shoves the papers in his hands into the agent's chest he was probably reprimanding and marches over to where you are.

"C-Childe?" "S-Sir?"

Ekaterina mirrors the wary call of his name until he's finally in front of you and without a word, throws his arms around you. You stumble a bit under his weight but you quickly circle your arms around his back and hold on tight so you don't trip over your own feet. You can only imagine what it looks like for Ekaterina to see her stiff boss suddenly deflate in your arms. A pleased groan escapes from him as he basically lifts you off your feet just so he can hug you closer to him. You almost feel like a child's teddy bear with your legs dangling in the air trapped in a crushing hug. You know that your relationship with Childe isn't a secret but you both don't show any displays of affection, you don't even really interact in public in general, so this is pretty open for the two of you. Well, for you at least. You don't even think Childe is registering anything around him except that you're here.

"Are you okay милый?" you whisper into his ear, nuzzling into the side of his head that's nestled into your shoulder. Your snezhnaya is a little rough around the edges but from how he seems to purr you think he enjoys it nonetheless. "Although I'm happy to see you too, don't you think we should move so we aren't blocking the main entrance?"

He sleepily blinks awake and slowly starts to acknowledge that you're both very much standing at the bank's entrance with everyone shamelessly staring. He frankly looks like he doesn't care, people have working legs, they can walk around you both. But he also doesn't want anyone to find another reason to take him away when he's very comfortable.

"If you need me, don't," is the clipped order that rings out through the bank. You know he's heavily censoring what he actually wants to say but from how everyone cowers away, they can probably tell what would happen if they disobey him. They all give him a nod and a salute before he's picking you up, cradles you into your arms, and swiftly walks upstairs. With a kick of his boot, the door slams shut and he sinks into his chair, you seated pretty on his lap.

"Please never leave me, I think I might die," he groans, re-wrapping his arms tight around your waist. You can only sigh fondly as you gently run your fingers through his hair, rubbing small circles into his scalp and he melts into goo. As if you would want to leave.

Kaveh

You know Kaveh is a bit...eccentric to say the least. He always says what's on his mind and most of the time his thoughts are things he should keep to himself. Even you're not totally immune to his blunt honesty despite the fact he tries to watch how he phrases things when directed to you. He doesn't want to accidentally hurt your feelings, regardless if you know he means no harm. It's rather cute that for someone who doesn't care about what others think of him, he's a bit insecure around you. He likes you, really likes you, and he often finds himself plotting out what he's going to say hours before your lunch date with him. But as soon as you greet him with that charming smile and a brief hug, he turns into putty and whatever flowery language he conjured in his mind is swept away. The confident architect that graduated with honors is reduced to a red-faced mess of stumbling words. It doesn't help that you find it adorable enough to press a chaste kiss to his red cheek and he swears that he's going to pass out from a heat stroke.

He's both extremely glad and terribly conflicted that your love language seems to be touch. He loves it when you brush your fingers through his hair but it always lulls him into sleep so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you hug him tightly but then he never wants to leave so he doesn't get any work done. He loves it when you cup his cheeks and pull him into a kiss but then he goes in for seconds, then thirds, and so on that he doesn't get any work done. If he went into alchemy rather than architecture he would dedicate his life work to studying why you have the touch of an Archon that compels him so. But he didn't and now that he's drowning in debt, he really needs to concentrate and finish his work before the deadline.

So now he has the painful task of trying to find an extremely polite way of asking you to leave him alone without you taking offense and breaking up with him. He would be devastated if he couldn't see your loving gaze on him again. But the situation is dire because as soon as he sees you, all he wants to do is curl up in bed with you in his arms. Preferably forever but he'll cross that bridge when he gets there. But every time he tries to bring it up it only takes one look from you for him to stutter and wave off his words. He tries to pep talk himself and every single time he claims that this will be the day that he, very politely, pushes you off, it ends with him melting into goo and waking up the next day with all his untouched work judging him from the table.

It gets to the point that he begins to air his grievances to Alhaitham of all people. To be fair, he doesn't expect the scribe to listen to a word he says and if he did, it would only be because Kaveh needed to pay his share of the rent. But he's pleasantly surprised when you pop up with a guilty smile and that Alhaitham explained his circumstances to you. He tries to clear up the situation, he has no idea what Alhaitham said specifically but it must have been put in the worst way possible, but you take his hands and he shuts up immediately. You give him a light giggle that melts his heart and you tell him to call for you once he's completed his work.

It was the worst decision he's ever made. Second to moving in with Alhaitham. Maybe his judgment of you being an angel was a lie and you were secretly the devil from how often his thoughts were plagued by you. He could draw a circle and think of your eyes. He knows that he's smitten in your presence but he didn't expect that to double when he's suddenly alone. His only motivation is that as soon as he's finished, he'll be able to see you again. But his mind and his work bleed together and he ends up drawing your face instead of buildings and pipes.

He ends up locking himself in his studio and slowly deforming into slime with how awful he's taking care of himself. Alhaitham has to pry him from the table only for Kaveh to flop in his arms that the scribe gives up and hauls the corpse over his shoulder and makes his way to your home. Kaveh still needs to pay his share of the rent so he's not allowed to die before then.

When you opened the door you weren't expecting Alhaitham at your doorstep with Kaveh over his shoulder. He doesn't seem to want to be in this situation either because it looks like he's two seconds away from throwing your boyfriend across the room. But he manages to reign everything in front of you and quickly explains Kaveh's situation, dumping said man into your arms, and telling you to fix it. You shoot him an apologetic smile that he waves off, it's not like it's your fault, before turning around and making his way back to his own home.

"Kaveh?" you whisper gently against his ear to not startle him. It only takes him a second to register your voice before he's perking up and beaming at you. He easily shifts positions so you're in his arms instead. Twirling you around and using the momentum to tuck an arm under your knees and smoothly picking you up, somehow supporting your entire weight in one arm while the other closes the door. Sometimes you forget that Kaveh is really strong despite his lean stature. He is a claymore user after all.

"Darling! What are you doing here?" Kaveh questions while he makes himself at home. If only your living space was big enough for him to store all his work otherwise he would have moved in with you by now.

"Alhaitham mentioned that your recent commission was taking up all your time and you weren't taking care of yourself. Are you alright?" you ask, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself while Kaveh takes his shoes and coat off. In these types of moments, no matter what you do or say he'll refuse to let you out of his arms. If he has to live with one arm then he'll gladly do so just so long as his other hand is wrapped around you.

"Never better," he replies with a smile. He's obviously lying given the dark circles under his pretty red eyes but the soft look he sends you is enough to tell you that right now, he's never been more comfortable. It makes you a bit flustered to have such an intense gaze on you but Kaveh is always forward with his affections and this isn't any different. With you in his arms, there's nowhere for you to run to when he tilts your chin down and brushes his lips against yours.

"Be still for me..." he whispers, the vibrations of his voice tingling against your skin as both of your eyes slowly close. Only for the moment to shatter by loud knocks on your door. You both jerk apart and turn to the disturbance with varying expressions. You're a flustered mess while Kaveh scowls as if the door offended his entire life's work. He finally sets you down on your feet and gives you a quick peck on the cheek. Before marching to the door, flinging it open, and telling the man on the other side to shoo before slamming the door in his face. Unless the world is ending, don't knock.

Ayato

To say Ayato works hard is an understatement. There are several nights when he's glued to his desk rather than resting in bed. Such are the woes of him being forever dedicated to his duties as the Yashiro Commissioner. On days when there are big events and everything needs to be perfect, he's nearly inconsolable that Thoma weighs how much he can get away with if he knocks Ayato out with a frying pan. His pondering doesn't go far because even though Ayato looks like a corpse from the lack of sleep, he'd probably knock Thoma off his feet before the housekeeper could even raise his arms. Ayaka has better luck but she's only able to drag him away for a few minutes before he points in a random direction to divert her attention before disappearing as soon as she turns back. It's just something everyone is aware of and they try their best to support Lord Kamisato. But if it starts to look really bad, like Ayato might drop dead at any second, then you're called in. The last defense and their ace up the sleeve. Not to brag or anything but you have a spotless record and you intend to keep it that way.

It only takes one word from you to have the dignified and cunning Ayato turn into a scared rabbit. His name. None of the wary calls of Lord Kamisato, a dismissal of his titles, and certainly not your affectionate terms of endearment. It always brings the temperature of the room to zero and Ayaka has to double-check that her cyro vision didn't accidentally activate. Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, you're not soft on him and you set your foot down when it comes to his extremes. One of the many reasons he fell in love with you but it's coming back to bite him now. He hates seeing you unhappy, doing anything possible to wipe that frown off your face, but when it's him that's making you so displeased he can't help but look like a scolded puppy.

It doesn't take much for you to know that Ayato has overworked himself to the breaking point again. You understand his duties mean that he's going to be riddled with work but you're his partner first and foremost. You're there to care about Ayato, not the Yashiro Commissioner. And Ayato looks like he's falling apart at the seams. Heavy eye bags, pale complexion, and his body swaying back and forth before he catches himself from falling over. It pains your heart to see him like this and yet still push himself to keep going. So you take one, two, and three steps towards him to delicately take his hand in yours, rubbing soothing circles into his palm before intertwining your fingers together.

Unlike Thoma and Ayaka, he doesn't disappear as soon as you take your eyes off him. Just stands there and stares dopily at you while you issue orders to take over his work. God, you look so attractive when you're in control. It's been a while since he's seen anything but paper and ink but did you always look this beautiful? He's so glad he's going to marry you. Maybe he can force the elders to move the ceremony date up. Everyone in the room politely ignores the fact that Ayato is saying these thoughts out loud and how red your face has gotten.

He doesn't object when you pull him out of the room with you, blindly following you wherever you happen to lead him by the hand. As long as your hand is in his, he'll follow you to the ends of the earth if you'll allow it. It's a bit comical how the dignified Yashiro Commissioner recedes into himself and crumbles away into a love-sick man just by a simple touch. At much as it makes you feel a bit shy, it's nice to know that Ayato won't try and weasel his way out of your grasp and return to his work.

If anything he clings to you like an onikabuto on a tree. You have to waddle your way to the baths with an oversized blue-haired man refusing to let go and draping himself over your back. You know he's making this as hard as possible on purpose, just do you can dote and pamper him a bit longer before he succumbs to slumber and has to return to work. It dampens his mood thinking of the future but it's quickly ushered away by the warm water poured over his head. It's fitting that his vision is hydro because he fits himself into the space you provide as you begin to scrub his hair clean.

There's something meditative about having his hair washed by your hands that no one else can replicate. It's a luxury that he only receives when he works hard enough that his arms hang uselessly at his sides and his body slumps into itself. Soft and malleable, completely willing to bend and mold in whatever shape you wish. But your hands scrub through his hair gently, rubbing all the stress out of his body and never complaining. Right now there's nothing else that matters more than being here with you and you with him.

"I'm going to rinse your hair out. Close your eyes now," you softly say and he follows your instructions. The rush of warm water is soothing to his ears although it sparks something in his memory that momentarily takes him out of this romantic moment. He reaches blindly behind him to take your hand, rubbing circles into your palm to halt your actions.

"It's just occurred to me but aren't you supposed to be on a trip to Watatsumi island?" he opens his eyes to peer up at you, his long eyelashes tipped with water droplets reminding you of just how pretty Ayato is. It's almost a good enough distraction for you to forget why exactly you're here rather than speaking with Kokomi right now. Almost.

"I was but someone had to go and work himself to death again. You need to take better care of yourself Ayato. I don't want to see Thoma running across all of Inazuma just to drag me back because you can't seem to sit still for a few seconds," your frown deepens with each sentence. Your free hand that's not in his grasp is knocking against his forehead, albeit not hard enough to cause any actual pain. He only chuckles before pulling you into the water with him until you're sitting on the edge of the bathtub. His head lay comfortably against your thighs.

"Apologies." He's not sorry at all. "When you're not beside me I have to throw myself into my work or else I may go insane."

"Oh so now all of this is my fault," you huff exasperated but he can hear the undertones of how happy that sentence makes you. "Come on, you'll catch a cold if we stay here any longer."

"Mmm, indulge me," he mumbles into your skin, his eyes closing once again with a content smile on his face. He doesn't need to see to know that you have an equally fond expression.

"Oh, so now my lord wishes to relax?"

"Only because you're here."

Alhaitham

You know that your relationship with Alhaitham is unusual to onlookers. You're both polar opposites and yet somehow stumbled into a rather healthy and committed relationship. To others, Alhaitham is a talented and intelligent man. The perfect bachelor if it wasn't for his "extraordinary sense of individualism" that he doesn't pay attention to people around him. He's notorious for being hard to get along with that not even his handsome face is enough for people to sit around for too long. Meanwhile, there's you. A wandering traveler who takes work whenever anyone needs an extra pair of hands. You're a bit well-known for accepting any job that pays well regardless of how dangerous or weird it might be. But unlike Alhaitham, you're more than happy to make conversation and you're often seen conversing with scholars from every one of the Six Darshans.

To everyone's knowledge, it's you that's the clingy one. You always have a hand around his arm or throw yourself at him shamelessly. Everyone assumes that Alhaitham tolerates it because he never pushes you off but he doesn't reciprocate affection to the degree that you do. If only those nosy scholars could see him now. Your newest job has you traveling to the Chasm to help collect and study the newly opened area. While the Chasm is close to Sumeru, a series of mysterious accidents led the entire mine to be closed. With the Liyue Qizing gradually reopening the area there's a lot of ground to cover. Alhaitham doesn't care much for the details except that this means you'll be away from him for a few years rather than a few weeks. As soon as you told him the expected date you'll return his face instantly soured. It was so cute that you couldn't help but press kisses to the corners of his mouth until they lifted. But one thing led to another and you're now trapped underneath his strong figure for the past couple of hours with no signs of him letting go. Every day you're gone equates to one minute he gets to keep you here.

No matter how much Alhaitham wishes to make you stay, even going so far as to bribe you, you eventually gather your things, press one last kiss to his lips, and leave him in his too-quiet house. He doesn't want to admit it but as soon as he closes the door he already feels lonely. But he'll learn to cope and continue with his life. He's been through more challenging obstacles and made it through. It's only two years, 3 months, 14 minutes, and 58 seconds. Alhaitham sighs and leans against the door. He's not going to make it.

Everyone else is content to whisper behind their hands about how the scribe seems to be more hostile. While Alhaitham doesn't have the most friendly personality, he's still somewhat polite until someone gives him a reason to exit the conversation. But now Alhaitham can barely get two sentences in before insulting someone. He doesn't even mean to do it on purpose, it just slips out. A girl who happens to share your eye color is met with a backhanded compliment that she should eat more fish. A man whose skin color is just a shade lighter than yours is met with an irritated scowl before he could even say anything. It's only now that people start to miss your presence because anything is better than a walking warning sign.

It only takes a few weeks for him to crack. He's not usually this starved of attention but the knowledge that he won't see you for another two years has him itching at his wrists. While on the outside there doesn't seem to be any changes, he's perfectly calm and collected, but his facade breaks when he starts making rash decisions. When he heard that his senior Kaveh needed a place to stay due to his financial situation, he offered to live with him much to everyone and his own surprise. Even Kaveh suspiciously asks why Alhaitham is being so generous. He doesn't dignify it with a proper answer, only that he better get his situation fixed within the next two years or the scribe is kicking him out.

As the second year rolls past, it's Kaveh who brings up Alhaitham's sudden mood change. He seems...excited. Kaveh chalks it up to Alhaitham being happy that Kaveh is finally moving out but that'd be kind of low even for someone like Alhaitham. As someone who cares about the arts and romance, there's a certain care in how Alhaitham cleans the house. Every systematic movement is laced with a longing gaze. His wrists are rubbed raw that Kaveh has to physically step in or he might rub so hard he reaches the bone. But above all the dangerous aura around Alhaitham is replaced with something Kaveh can only describe as restless patience.

"Honey, I'm home!" your happy voice is accompanied by the loud slam of the door crashing against the wall. Kaveh is startled by a random stranger entering their house but mostly at the term of endearment. Alhaitham only lowers his book at your voice before going back to reading. A bit rude in Kaveh's opinion but he can see the small smile that Alhaitham tries to hide behind the pages of his book. It's not like you aren't a bit devious yourself. So you retaliate by plucking the book out of his hands, taking a quick glance at his page number before placing it on the desk.

"Welcome back. I assume your job went well?" Alhaitham sighs as you kick his legs apart, plop yourself down into his lap, and rest your head against his chest. If you weren't so enthralled by the masterpiece that was Alhaitham's physique, you would have laughed at how the blond-haired man seemed to stare owlishly at the scene. His eyes almost fall out of their heads when Alhaitham doesn't push you off, doesn't throw you over his shoulder, or even make the slightest hint of being irritated or embarrassed. He just places his hands around your waist, rests his chin on your head, and sends an icy glare to which the blond-haired man scoffs before excusing himself. It's not anything different from what he usually does to onlookers although this is you and you can tell just how weary he is. How deeply he relaxes in your hold as the tension melts from his shoulders. How his eyes search over your body for any injuries that you might have gotten. It does look like you got a bit roughed up during your stay at the Chasm. Your hair is cut shorter than he remembers, you've put on some muscle, and there are a few nicks and cuts running along parts of your skin that are visible. But none of that matters because you're here. You're finally here.

"Aww, Haitham did you miss me?" you tease only to quickly eat your words when he manuever's you sideways so he can pin your back against the couch. You're hit with a sense of deja vu back to two years ago when you were about to leave for this trip.

"The next time you take a commission that lasts longer than two weeks, I'm coming with you or you're not going at all," he grumbles as he tucks himself into the crook of your neck with no signs of leaving. You laugh now but he's dead serious.

Dottore

You aren't sure when it started but at some point, you've been labeled as "Dottore's Favourite". He always seems to be the slightest bit nicer if you happen to be there, his voice a smidge less aggressive, and a lot more touchy. He's a Doctor first so he doesn't want to be contaminated by whatever bacteria people have gathered. But with you, he always seems to have a hand on you. Either harshly pinching your cheeks like a child with a crazed grin whenever you mumble something he deems stupid or pulling your arm of out its socket as he yanks you through the hallways of his lab. You act almost as his shadow, permanently glued to his feet and forced to follow wherever he goes.

You wouldn't consider yourself exceptional at your job but you did know how to listen. Perhaps it was your blatant disregard for your lack of safety since your head was always in the clouds that let you do your job with a steady hand. You don't blame your college's, it's hard to work under so much stress. If you had to do quantum physics and whatever the hell smart people do with someone who could, and would, kill you on the spot if you couldn't tell him what 3567 x 438 was on the spot, you think you could have exploded and crumbled on the spot. But you were just the ditzy receptionist who twirled a pencil on her nose more than on a paper. The only thing you were required to do was make sure Dottore was never bothered and let him know if anyone important needed his attention.

You've seen the Regrator the most compared to the rest of the Harbingers. You don't know what a banker needs from a doctor but you're not about to ask. It's not your business and you aren't paid enough to care about what your boss does. Besides, for such a handsome face his presence creeps you out which is saying something considering there's a maniacal doctor that treats human lives like numbers on a stats page. But since you are his "receptionist" you have to make conversation with him. Most of your interaction extends to him asking if the Doctor is in and you politely saying that he's out. You both pointedly ignore the loud crashes and angry yelling from one of his segments behind the closed steel door.

Once again, you don't consider yourself exceptional at your job. You're just a lousy receptionist at a place that doesn't require it and who spends all their time spinning in the office chair than doing actual work. You're just as replaceable as any grunt in this hell hole. So when Tartaglia waltzes through the doors, blinking at you with his dead fish eyes, before nodding to himself and hauling you out of your chair you can only hope that Dottore manages to remember that he has a meeting with Pantalone at noon.

You're hardly gone for an hour. Tartaglia was just bored, bored enough to come to Dottore of all people, that he happened to spot you who looked equally as bored. He just roughed you up a little before he deemed you completely useless and a horrible fighter before sending you back on your way. Seriously, if he wanted a fight he should have just picked one of the skirmishers instead of a damn receptionist. Although you may have to reconsider your position because as soon as you walk back into the lab, a girl is throwing herself at you and demanding where you've been.

You don't get the chance to answer before she's hurriedly running down twisting hallways, down the stairs, and punching in codes so complicated it looked like she was trying to make music out of them. Whatever questions you have are ignored in favor of getting you somewhere as fast as possible. It begins to make sense when you're finally shoved into a room, the girl who dragged you all this way throwing herself onto her knees and begging for forgiveness for letting you wander off.

The lab is an absolute disaster. This isn't the organized chaos you're acquainted with but the aftermath of a manic episode you're familiar with. Glass shards dripping with fluorescent liquid, research notes torn apart that flutter around the room as faux snow, and one mad doctor in the middle.

"Where have you been?"

For someone who destroyed years worth of progress, he sounds oddly calm and collected. His deep voice is firm while he fiddles with a test tube of blue liquid, watching it slosh around before placing it onto a broken table. He barely pays any mind to the girl currently on her hands and knees, forehead pressed to the ground while she glares at you to say something.

"Out," is your reply. A casual shrug of your shoulders even though the Dottore's back is to you. He's not wearing his usual white coat. That's too bad, you think it looks kinda cool. Really goes with his bird aesthetic.

"Out...out you say. Out. Out. Out," he mumbles softly, each time he say's the word "out", he taps the test tube harder onto the table. The lull in conversation only makes the pressure of the room drop lower before the tension snaps and he hurls the test tube at the girl still on her knees. It's only thanks to your reflexes that you manage to grab the collar of her uniform and throw her back just as the test tube collides with the floor, the liquid melting away the concrete where her head was. You can only give her a nudge and a look towards the door for her to scramble to her feet and flee as far away as she can. The slam of the door behind her acting as the nail in the coffin as Dottore's body seems to slump in on itself.

"Where have you been?" he asks again, running a hand through his messy hair. He sounds and looks far more tired, his fingers twitching to reach out and hold you but his pride stopping him. So you push yourself and step forward into his space, reaching your hands out to cup his face and rubbing soothing circles into his porcelain skin. He doesn't lean into your touch but he doesn't push you away either.

"Getting tossed around by Tartaglia. He came by saying he was bored and I just so happened to be there," you say absentmindedly, twirling the long lock of blue hair that hangs off the sides of his mask. He responds by snatching your wrist, squeezing hard enough until your bones creak. "Were you worried? Did you think I ran away?"

He doesn't dignify your question with a response. Simply shrugging your hands off his face before he reaches up to pinch your cheeks, a familiar cackle vibrating from his chest.

"As if you would have anywhere to go."

———

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—𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

✦ wet dream hc’s feat. heizou, tighnari, kazuha, diluc 

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns, clothed sex (heizou), fingering (heizou), biting (heizou), exhibitionism (tighnari), blowjob (tighnari), facial (tighnari), aphrodisiacs (tighnari), masturbation (kazuha), face-sitting (diluc), squirting (diluc), unedited

Waking up completely drenched in sweat, hair sticking to his forehead was something Heizou wasn’t expecting. All he could do was suck in his breath feeling the sheets rub against his thick, pulsating cock. His juniper eyes bore down into your sleeping, watching your chest rise and fall as he zoned out on your peeking cleavage and taut nipples through the thin fabric of your shirt.

With a shaky breath, Heizou could help but press his side against your behind—cock nestled between your plush ass as his lips dragged against your sensitive neck waking you up. He heard you simply laugh at him, shaking your hip causing him to suck another breath in. 

As you tease him, asking him to use words to describe what he wants you turned over to see a slightly irritated look morphing to a cruel smirk before his hands wandered beneath your pajama bottoms—nimble fingers grazing against your clit. You whined, trying to grind your clit deeper into his touch as his fingers dragged and flicked the small bundle of nerves before slowly dipping into your newly wet cunt.

His lips dragged against your earbud, telling you how you should never egg him on when he is in this state.  His name echoed from your lips as he ground his needy clothed cock against your ass trying to resist the soft moans threatening to come out. He could feel your soft walls beginning to cave into his fingers, now curled and brushing that spongy spot inside of you. 

As you shifted, legs shivering in pleasure wiggling from his grip as you couldn’t help yourself, Heizou’s pearly whites sunk down on your nape hips raised and bucking as a stain made its way to his briefs. He could only lowly moan, feeling his warm cum seep through his clothes and upper thighs—fingers still plowing through you, riding your own orgasm out. 

As a researcher, Tighnari wasn’t afraid of trying the various mushrooms of the forest to write in his survival guide. His philosophy was, that it’s better he experience it than unexpecting ones. He didn’t expect popping an interesting pink mushroom that his body would immediately flush, cock hardening.

His head felt like it was on a cloud as half-lidded jade eyes shockingly gazed down at you between his thighs. As he struggled, asking you just how you managed to get to his location, your fingers already made their way to his pants, others on his inner thigh. The way you licked your lips as you slowly revealed his cock, springing forth and slapping against his lower stomach.

As if in a trace, you sat in between his legs, telling him he could do absolutely whatever he wanted with just a pretty much. Shoving a growl down his throat, the hazy Tighnari couldn’t help pressing his heavy cock against your cheeks. God, they felt so soft under it, precum now glistening on it. You smiled, pressing a kiss on his tip before completely taking him into your mouth.

You bobbed your head, as Tighnari's head fell against the base of the tree, feeling you slurp and slobber against his length. He could feel the flat of your tongue pressing against one of his prominent veins, ripping another moan from his lips. His hips began to jump, pushing his cock even deeper into your mouth as you began to gag as a string of Sumerian curses came from Tighnari.

He pushed you away, pumping his cock rapidly as thick ropes of his cum shot out, staining your face, as you timidly looked up at him with glossy lips. A lazy smile fell onto Tighnari, seeing you slowly take your pants down, opening your legs to reveal your pretty sobbing cunt…

But with a gasp, Tighnari shot up from the forest floor, body hot and cock pulsating as he looked around in the direction seeing the mushrooms below him. He could only wince as he palmed his cock, leaning his head against one of the trees as he moved up from his position. To keep his reputation, maybe he should leave out the details of what this mushroom could do to you. 

Traveling with you could be a little more difficult than Kazuha liked to admit, simply because you always managed to pull at the strings that unleashed his lust. He could only stare at a wall, trying to ignore his heavy cock pulsating beneath the sheets, before softly sighing and getting up from your shared bed.

He left the tent walking up to a nearby pond, staring at the moonlight’s reflection. Bags were under his eyes as this spell of lust has haunted him since he woke up from a dream. He sighed, slowly disrobing before letting his body submerged in the cool water. As Kazuha rested against the shallow side, his hands slowly wrapped around his length, squeezing it with a gasp.

His teeth dug against his bottom lip, slowly fisting his cock beneath the water, covering his mouth that was beginning to softly moan out. His stomach tensed, gliding his fingers along his sensitive tip trying to desperately reenact whenever you would grace him with your touch. Even as his hips shook in pleasure as he came, the relief was only momentary before he felt hard again under his touch. 

He wanted to feel your cunt instead of his hand. He wanted to hear the whispers of your moans, not the winds. He wanted you so bad, so desperately that his dreams plagued themselves every night of different positions he would take you in. 

It was when he felt your hands touch the one that was wrapped around his cock, was when he realized his lust had invaded all aspects of his senses too. He could feel your chest press against him, lips pressing against his back—reprimanding him for not getting you sooner.

But as Kazuha slowly opened his eyes, seeing daylight creep into the small tent he realized…all of that was simply a dream. He didn’t go outside, you didn’t join him, but the tent beneath his sheets remained the same.

He just needed to go ahead and tell you his needs at this point.

The dreams Diluc had of you were so vivid. There was one particular recurring dream he refuses to tell you about, regardless of how many nights he woke up and privately deal with his “issues” once he had this dream.

In this dream, you would be laying on top of him, the perfect view of your cunt clutching on absolutely nothing. He could see just how wet you were, your slick even coming down to drip on his face, hovering below it. And suddenly, after admiring the view, you’d finally put your weight down—letting his senses completely wrap themselves into your beautiful hole.

You should squeeze his legs against his head, hands reaching up to grab your chest as his tongue lapped up and sucked on your clit as if he was completely starved. The blunt of his nails would dig into your plush thighs, as he finally dart his tongue completely inside of you, nose nudging your sensitive nub instead. 

Hearing your voice waver, repeating his name over and over again made Diluc’s cock throb, even more, precum completely coating his length. As he sucked more and more, it wouldn’t take long before you would completely cover your face, squirt shooting out as he happily drank and lapped up every part of it, only for your to grind on his face more and start the process all over again until he finally woke up.

Even as he got up in bed, cock was animated and ready to be touched —you finally caught him only to be surprised by the massive bulge beneath his briefs. He finally came clean to you, discussing this dream seemingly haunting him wherever he went, only for you to get on top of him asking why not make the dream a reality.

It’s safe to say, the two of you didn’t sleep that night.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

# day 2. spectrophilia

dilf!fushiguro toji x ghost f!reader

genre. gothic romance, smut

s. father and son move into an antique mansion, ready to start a new life — but the house’s past seems to be waiting for them 

cw. toji is a good dad (megumi is five), oral, praise, pet names, m. solo, size kink, creampie, mating press, fingering, doggy, full nelson, squirting | wc. 6500

tw. characters death, mention of deaths and suicides

kinktober m.list | interactions are appreciated

once it wasn’t in this gloomy condition. it had a clear and wide facade, long windows that were always open, and freshly laundered curtains. the lawn it overlooked was daily tended, the hedges were pruned, and the landlady’s favorite flowers were planted according to the seasons. the woods at the back hid a small lake, and not far away a greenhouse.

now, rose mansion, no longer looked like a kind house. it had taken on the semblance of a place of despair, not meant to be lived in, not fit for people, hope or love. it had become an uppity, alive, evil house.

they arrived toward the end of a mid-june afternoon. they turned into the driveway, and the crunch of the car’s wheels startled the crows clustered in the treetops, which took off cawing around the house.

“what do you think, buddy?” the young man closed the car door behind him before helping a little copy of himself out of the passenger side. “it’s old,” the boy wrinkles his nose, making the man beside him smile.

it wasn’t the first time you’d seen him. a few months earlier he had walked around the halls and rooms of rose mansion with a woman who showed him around the house, step by step, room by room and secret by secret, with amusing talk. he was wearing a dark coat, and his hair was falling over his forehead in a messy way. he looked like he was going through a rough period.

“it’s not old,” toji laughed, taking his child’s hand, “it’s vintage.” he didn’t seem to believe his own words much either. “hey, i know, it’s an ugly, old … old house,” he chuckles opening the front door, “but it’s a new beginning, for us.”

Keep reading

"aki has a very moanable name" is so right!!!!

now every time aki hears you call his name, flashbacks from the way you moaned his name comes back at him. "Hey Aki, look at this" "Aki, do you think-" "are you okay, Aki?" he's totally bricked up just hearing you say it. He has to physically grip the counter or look away to shake off the lewd things he's thinking of doing to you, the respectful man he is 🤤

HNNNNGNNBBBFBBB YOU'RE SO RIGHTTTT

I just can't help but feel like aki has a huge kink for you saying his name, if he's inside you and you suddenly start whining it over and over he'd have to stop for a second so he doesn't cum... if you coo it so sweetly in his ear he's prepared to do anything and everything you ask for, and if he has to, he'll lean in close to your ear and beg for you to say it for him...

of course, he doesn't think about the consequences until he hears you call for him and the sheer mention of your voice saying his name has him all flustered and hot and asking if he can excuse himself so he can go calm down.

i see that your bio says requests are open, but if there’s been a mistake and they’re not then feel free to decline this! it may be a little suggestive if you squint but i was thinking: how would xiao, thoma, and albedo react to you giving them a hickey? neck kisses are top tier so i always love headcanons like these, hehe! have a nice day

part two (scaramouche, kazuha)

authors note ⊱ requests are still definitely open!!! anyway u raise interesting thoughts............................................ sips my im-a-simp juice im not saying neck kisses / hickeys are my shit.......... BUT THEY’RE MY SHIT,,,

also maybe this shouldve been wholesome but why do that when u can write sin

(btw if anyone wants other characters for this feel free to send a request c: )

characters ⊱ xiao, thoma, albedo

warnings ⊱ completely safe! enjoy!

rating ⊱ not sfw, if ur a minor pls dni or ignore,,, im not responsible for ur actions

xiao

he definitely enjoys it, especially when your mouth catches right underneath his jaw, where he really likes it

the throat is a very vulnerable place, and that already makes it pretty intense, but couple that with the fact xiao requires a lot of trust and love to be able to let someone this close makes it a thousand times more overwhelming

he flushes up and becomes a shuddering, grinding mess, grunting through his teeth, trying to choke down the whines into something that sounded less pathetic, but they end up slipping out anyway

he might act like he’s had enough or that he wants you to get on with it, “are you done yet?” but if you actually did stop, he would greedily insist you keep going, because he loves it (even if he wouldn’t directly admit it)

enjoys the feeling of being marked, but doesn’t quite get it beyond that

he also doesn’t get embarrassed by it at all, he just gets annoyed if random people point it out; whatever he does in private is no one else’s business but his, and he thinks they should just ignore it (unless it’s someone he knows like zhongli or hu tao. then he’s extremely embarrassed, gritting a snarky response through his teeth)

still, he probably insists you give him more

when they fade away, he’s desperate to make sure you give him new ones; there’s something oddly gratifying about it that he doesn’t want to take the time to personally examine, he just wants it, wants you

however, he wants to return the favor as well; when you’re not ravaging his neck, he’s ravaging yours

albedo

loves it, it’s actually his favorite place to be kissed

it doesn’t matter if you just ghost your mouth across his skin, even the slightest touch will have his heart racing, his breath leaving him in short, shallow gasps—he’s sensitive

melts when you suck, lick, bite, any and all of it

either way, he’s immediately melting and whimpering, practically crumbling into your arms, tilting his head to the side to invite more and more and more of your attention

being marked there is definitely very much welcomed

doesn’t care too much if people see it, but he wears high-collared jackets pretty normally anyway; i also see him as a frequent enjoyer of turtlenecks

even if someone points it out, he isn’t really embarrassed because they see it, but rather because it reminds him of how he recieved it (he brushes his fingers over the mark, cheeks warming; he shivers at his own touch, but it can’t quite mimic the way you made him feel)

loves, loves those open mouthed, sort of wet kisses you leave across a neck, it drives him a little crazy (especially where the star is on his throat)

gets heated and heavy-lidded very fast; he might try to ride your thigh if this keeps up

thoma

ironically, this is also his favorite place to be kissed

loves being kissed there, but he prefers it to be very gentle; he likes it to be slow, sensual kisses, the kind that make him sigh, eyes fluttering closed, with his head naturally falling back to invite more of your touch

the problem is actually getting marked

he doesn’t mind it, normally, but as someone with a reputation to keep, it can be a struggle to keep hidden

especially since his throat is pretty exposed most of the time, anyway

so he’ll probably tell you to not leave any bruises, but the rest of his body is more than welcome to you

even when he doesn’t have to worry about someone seeing him with the marks, he has a hard time fully enjoying it given he will just always have this habitual anxiety about his reputation

but if you know just how to make those soft, fleeting marks that fade not too long after, you are more than welcome to lather him with it

loves being kissed there, but besides the reputation conflict, he’s pretty neutral to markings

if you like it, then he’ll like it

but if anyone points it out, like ayaka, he’s going to be more than embarrassed, he’s going to be a stammering mess

would prefer to just be kissed or nipped on his throat instead of marked

⑅ ۫ . ෆ ˟ ໒꒱ DREAM A LITTLE DREAM OF ME?

al haitham x f!reader ౨ৎ . . . 17+ only ໒꒱ ⋆˚✩. fluff! fluffy fluffy mega fluff :3 / sensitive eared al haitham snifl ;;n;; he's so kwuit / maybe ooc al haitham? / suggestive undertones / al haitham calls reader a "minx" at one point ‹𝟹

al haitham doesn't have his earpiece on the first time you fall asleep on his shoulder. it's in the comfort of his own home, it's a good day and there's a good book in his lap and his good friend is sitting next to him— he has no reason to keep it on.

it doesn't catch him off guard when he feels the familiarity of your weight on his shoulder and the warmth of your body as it falls slack against his own, something he's felt countless times no thanks to your several clumsy trips and slips here and there. he looks down at you to find you asleep, and he's almost tempted to maneuver you into laying on the couch and throwing a blanket at your face to avoid all the whining you'll be doing about your neck aching after you wake up.

"tired, are we? it's only noon..."

but his gaze softens as he continues observing you— the sweet innocence gracing your face and the slight part of your lips as you begin to quietly snore— and he can't seem to find it in himself to remove you from him. and he sighs a defeated sigh, because al haitham is quick to come to the conclusion that he enjoys having you lay on him like this, that he likes how adorable you look when you aren't yapping your mouth at him. and he decides he can be selfish for now, damn the little neck ache you'll feel from straining it like this.

he lets you rest on his shoulder silently while he continues to read his book, but it's not long after when you begin to whimper incoherently in your sleep, brows furrowed and your arms wrapping around one of his own. he watches, patiently and curiously as you snuggle into his chest, nuzzling your face against his neck in search of more comfort.

"oh? this is new." he grins and muses to no one but himself, a brow cocked up as he continues to watch you with interest, trying to decipher whatever it is that you're mumbling.

and then he hears it— tiny, repeated whines of his name spilling from your lips without a filter— 'haitham... 'haitham, like you... like you s'much... you breathe blissfully against the shell of his ear and al haitham swears his heart skips a beat.

huh. it's never done that before.

and so he purses his lips, grinding his molars in an attempt to swallow the perturbed grunt that bubbles in his throat as your nose continues to graze along his ear, softly smoothing along the cartilage. the book lays long forgotten on his lap as his hands ball into white-knuckled fists, spine lit ablaze with tingles that rush through his nerves at every breath, whisper, touch you lay over his ear.

there's no denying his ears are incredibly sensitive to both sound and touch, the latter always causing him to react in more... salacious ways.

and even with all the self-discipline and resolve al haitham has built up over the years, he is still a human by nature, and he begins to find it immensely difficult to keep his blood from flowing south. his pants seem tighter all of a sudden and his crotch begins to ache and oh, the feel of your skin against his makes him feel like he's being scorched alive.

"you little minx." al haitham whispers cooly and matter-of-factly, the neutral expression on his face a stark contrast to the flames that grow blue in the pit of his heart.

but his choice of wording is absolutely incorrect, he knows this, because you, never the wiser, are about the furthest thing from a minx. there's nothing cunning or impudent about your current actions, but god— it feels like you're reaching straight into his chest, tugging at his heartstrings and carving your name into the organ, because all he can think, feel is you, you, you.

"if you're trying to get me wrapped around your finger..." he stops to sigh, shaking his head with a defeated smile. and the more he looks at you, the more he's tempted to flick your forehead, poke it with his finger until you wake up and discover your body curled up against his; just to see you embarrassed and quiet and avoidant of his gaze. but, no— instead, he leans into your forehead, lips barely grazing over the skin just as your lips did his ear, before pulling back, deciding that perhaps this, a teasing conversation and a forehead kiss would be best saved for when you're awake. "you're doing an excellent job of it."

from coco ๑‧₊˚ ෆ he is my littl honeyboy ! i kiskiskiskis so soft .... yeah . hav dis littl thing i thought up after his teaser video yesterday >0< hope ya like it , even if its only a bit ! comments + reblogs + feedback of any kind ! r supa ! dupa appreciated !! thankies a billi for reading ໒꒰ྀི∩´͈ ᐜ `͈∩꒱ྀིა

this is what i call angst recovery day i read too much now i gotta counter with FLUFF BITHV HA HAH

♡ — when you start calling your sakusa kiyoomi by “omi”

a few months into your relationship with sakusa kiyoomi, he finally, begrudgingly introduces you to his MSBY teammates and when you hear atsumu and bokuto refer to him as omi-omi, something in your brain just clicks — like a light bulb just went off.

omi.

that’s the cutest fucking nickname for your boyfriend, ever.

later that day, after you bid your goodbyes and kiyoomi quickly ushers you out of the gym and into his car, you’re buckled in the front passenger seat while kiyoomi is starting the car, your phone immediately connecting to the bluetooth stereo.

“wow, your teammates seem like a handful, but they’re pretty great — right, omi?”

and kiyoomi whips towards you worryingly fast, eyes immediately narrowing and conveying his many emotions without a single word: irritation, regret, betrayal. meanwhile you blink back at him with an innocent smile, though the MSBY outside hitter can very clearly see the mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

“don’t call me that,” he snaps without any malice, one hand reaching over to you and delivering a light flick to your forehead. kiyoomi can only sigh deeply when you burst into a flurry of amused giggles as he pulls out of the parking lot.

to his despair, you easily disregard his warning and start habitually calling him by his dreaded nickname.

Keep reading

zh-zhongli and gorou i- 😏

Genshin Impact Men + Awkward Boners

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma, Xiao, Gorou, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, embarrassment, teasing, awkward boners, masturbation mention

A/N: This is just something I find really funny to think about.

Kaeya would try to play it off as intentional. How could he not get horny when you're laying your head in his lap, your lips so close to where he needs them most right now. So what if the two of you were just going over reports? He couldn't help but stare at your lips, imagining them closing in on his cock. Fuck, fuck the reports, he wants you. Now.

Oh Diluc would be as read as his hair. Getting horny behind the counter as he watches you cleaning up tables, when some of the patrons are still there. If he were to move away from it he knows that his bulge would be visible. You hear him groan and see him looking a little uncomfortable. When you walk around to him and see the predicament he's in you can barely stop your chuckle as his face gets even redder. You lean in close to his ear, whispering to help him take care of it as soon as the last customer is out.

Itto would only be slightly embarrassed. He got hot and horny just from sparring with you. That might not be a problem right now but if the two of you were in a middle of a fight and he got a boner it would be really difficult for him to fight. Luckily if he learned anything in his life it was that practice makes perfect. So if he can make this go away, with perhaps a little help from you, then you can spar again and he can try not to get a raging hard on. But if he does, well it's nice knowing that your lips, hands, tits and cunt are always his to help himself to.

Thoma would be feeling guilty about it more than anything. He was supposed to be the one helping everyone with their problems and here he was getting horny just because you sat on his lap and whispered into his ear. Fuck, he can't help but buck his hips into yours, and saying sorry right after, hiding his face in your shoulder. You don't really care, in fact you tell him that if anything it's flattering that you can make him feel this way. If there's anything, anything you can do to help, you'd be happy to. After all he's the one always helping others, its only fair that you help him avoid any more embarrassment.

Xiao finds it odd that it happened when the two of you were just cuddling. He hasn't slept in the same bed with many people any it's even more rare that this kind of thing happens to him. He wants to scurry away before you wake up and take notice but his wiggling only makes you press yourself harder against his bulge. He can't help but groan, the sound waking you up and realizing his not so little problem. It's even more rare for him to blush in front of someone, so this is a real treat for you indeed. As you roll your hips again to tease him he has to put his hands on hips to stop you before he creams into his pants. But you want him to, you tell him to let go, and enjoy. And indeed he does.

Gorou was so fucking embarrassed about getting a hard on in the middle of a meeting with the rest of the generals. He quickly excuses himself and leaves to his bedroom, that he shares with you. When the meeting ends you enter the bedroom and find him pumping his cock while sniffing your pillow. His face goes crimson when he sees you in the room. As you approach he uses the pillow to hide his hard on, but the pressure only makes him grind his hips into the pillow. He apologizes for you seeing him like this. The last thing he expected though was for you to move the pillow and wrap your mouth around his cock instead, inviting him to finish what he started. Your mouth is much better then a pillow after all.

Zhongli can't believe that he let himself lose control over himself like this. You were just sitting in his lap, helping him go over his latest contracts when you felt his hardening dick poking against your ass. You back up into him further, not sure if you're dreaming or not, but the growl that comes into your ear sends such a bolt of pleasure through your body that you can feel the wetness already gathering between your thighs, better than any dream. Zhongli takes a deep breath and bucks his hips into yours, his hands now firm on your hips to keep you still as he continues to roll his hips into yours. Never in his life did he think he would be desperately humping his lover in his own office, but he can't help his instincts. You're beautiful, you smell good, and horny, and absolutely ravishing. And he will have you, Right here, right now.

you ask him to open a jar that you superglued shut.

includes: xiao, zhongli, ayato, thoma, and itto.

warnings: gender neutral reader, fluff.

notes: please this is the favorite thing i've written so far.

xiao.

xiao prided himself on always being available when you needed help. so when you called him and presented him with a tightly shut jar, xiao was more than accepting to help you open it. 

except that he couldn’t.

xiao frowned when the lid didn’t budge. he tried again, repositioning his hands on jar, but still the lid refused to moved. and then again. and again.

it was only when you let out a quiet wheeze did xiao stop. he looked up and saw you, your face flushed from trying to hold back your laughter, tears almost coming your eyes. 

“what?” he asked, slightly defensive. “what are you laughing at?”

“you,” you got out between laughs. prephaps not the best way to put it. at that, xiao raised flushed in embarassment, and you rushed to catch your breath and explain. 

xiao couldn’t believe he’d been had. especially by you. he threatened to never come to your aid again, especially not for such another “stupid” request. when you pointed out that was an empty threat, xiao only stalked off, not saying another word. 

poor xiao. all he wanted to do was help you. now all he could do was sulk in the corner like a scolded puppy, a perpetual frown on his face for the rest of the day. 

you better apologize. 

zhongli.

zhongli had faced many hardships and challenges in his few thousand years of life, but the small jar in front of him was proving to be one of the toughest yet. 

he underestimated its potential when you handed it to him with what he thought was a simple request. zhongli might have even laughed if he got it on the first try after your futile attempts. but he had lost count of how many times he tried to failed to unscrew the lid, and he no longer felt like laughing now. 

“it’s like,” he said as he tried yet again, “you superglued it shut.”

“no, i didn’t.” your answer, too quick. too defensive. too prepared. 

zhongli paused mid attempt. he glanced up at you, and you saw the realization slowly dawn on him. “you did superglue it shut.”

you shook your head and said again, “what? no, i wouldn’t have, i swear it.” 

your smile was nervous and forced and completely guilty. it faltered as zhongli put the jar down, crossed his arms, and gave you a disapproving look. “was this really the best prank you could come up with?”

“i’d like to see you do anything better.”

“is that a challenge?” zhongli asked. he didn’t let you answer. “if so, then i gladly accept. just be warned, [you]. i won’t be holding back.”

his eyes twinkled with all things mischievous. although you might have won this round, you suspected that zhongli would have the last laugh after all. 

ayato.

ayato, ever the intellectual, didn’t at first try to unscrew the jar. instead, he immediately began to run it under warm water. then, very unceremoniously, ayato whacked the jar against the countertop. after a few hard strikes, he then attempted to unscrew the lid. 

imagine his surprise when his methods of loosening the jar didn’t work. he tried again to the same result. 

you should have stopped him then. told him it was a prank, had your laugh, and rested on your laurels. 

but no, you decided to wait and prolong the humorous display before you. you watched as ayato moved around the kitchen, grabbing anything and everything that could aid him in his quest to open your jar. a spoon to wedge open the lid. a paper towel to wrap around the base. a bottle opener to try and break the seal. 

every single method that could have been found on a random blog was now being done in your kitchen. when, at last, ayato exhausted all his various items after failed attempt after failed attempt, you expected him to give up. 

but his face somehow began more determined. you were about to admit to your prank when he cautioned, “stay back.”

you were about to ask why when the flash of ayato’s vision and the quick movements of a hydro sword stopped you. it was over in an instant, and in its wake your jar—

your eyes widened. it was cut cleanly in half. 

“well, that certainly did the trick,” ayato said, quite proud of himself.

you stuttered out a string of incomprehensible noises, unable to fully process what just happened.

“although, i might have gone a little too far.” it was only then did you realize that ayato had not only sliced the jar in half, but the entire countertop, too. cleanly down the middle. ayato shrugged. “oh, well.”

you really should have stopped him earlier.

thoma.

how could you do this to poor, sweet thoma? your boyfriend trusted you entirely and genuinely thought you just needed help opening a particularly stubborn jar. 

now he only felt bad that he couldn’t. and you didn’t have the heart to admit it was a prank, not after he called ayato and ayaka for advice on how to help you. not after he watched several youtube videos on how to open it. not after he consulted google for the better part of an hour. 

you knew that you had to eventually, but as of right now, you were in too deep. prephaps if you got him to stop trying and told him later, it would soften the blow. 

“it’s okay,” you said to thoma as he tried yet again. “it’s really fine. i didn’t really need it opened.”

but thoma would not listen. he steeled himself to try again and—

nothing. the lid didn’t budge. the jar remained perfectly shut. 

and then your worst fears were realized to be true when thoma put his head down and started to sob. you opened you mouth as he practically shook from crying so violently. the frustration had finally got to him.

“no, thoma, please stop!” you said frantically, immediately pushing the cursed jar away from him. 

“if i can’t do this for you, what can i do?”

“don’t say that!” you insisted. and then, without thinking, “it’s just a prank! i glued it shut—“

“so you admit to it?” thoma looked up. no tears stained his cheeks. his voice was completely normal. a hint of a smile even laced his lips. “you admit to pranking me?”

you blinked in surprise. you were played.

thoma trusted you entirely, and he knew you even better. the way you handed him that jar with an innocent little smile… he knew. he knew before you even opened your mouth.

thoma, one. you, zero.

itto.

the first time it wasn’t a prank. when you needed help the previous night to open a subborn jar, you asked itto because you genuinely couldn’t do it yourself. 

“that was nothing!” he boasted after opening the jar with ease. “i could do that blindfolded and upside down, [you]. are you sure you just didn’t want to see how awesome i am?”

“i loosened it,” you protested.

“yeah, yeah,” he dismissed you. itto continued in a carefree tone, “listen! it’s fine. i don’t mind help you out. i can open any jar you give me, i promise.”

you raised an eyebrow at that last part. and now, standing before itto once again, a jar you superglued shut the night before in your hands, you decided to see if itto could really make good on his promise. either that, or recieve a rude awakening. 

as judging by the amount of glue you used, it was going to be the latter. 

“can you please help me with this one?” you asked. your blinked your eyes up at him in a show of innocence. your smug smile was hidden underneath a small pout as you pretended the jar had gotten the best of you. 

“another one?” itto asked in mock exasperation. he grabbed the jar from you and said, “watch and learn.”

itto twisted, and—

it opened. the jar opened. itto had opened the jar as if you hadn’t poured an entire bottle of superglue on the lid and rim. 

your mouth dropped open. itto offered it back to you and asked, “why do you look so surprised?”

“i…” your voice trailed off. telling itto would only further fuel his ego. and you really didn’t want to deal with him talking about it the rest of the night. “i’m not surpised. thanks for… yeah. thanks.”

itto gaze you a puzzled look. then he shrugged and said, “what’d i tell you? i told you i could open any jar.”

you could only nod in agreement. itto had no idea just how correct that statement was.