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𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄 Chapter Three

The work of a pantie thief!

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Scaramouche and his disturbing— unhealthy obsession towards you, his gorgeous little classmate. (Soon to be more)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche/Wanderer x Fem!reader.

Yandere, creepy, obsessive and disturbing behaviour, character death (he kills someone *shocked face*), strangulation, worshiping, masturbation, pantie stealing/sniffing, mentions of cum, everyone is 18+, dark content ahead! modern/collage au, mdni, afab reader. 2.6k

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche’s eyes are locked solely onto your almost comically glowing figure, and he’s one hundred percent sure that if he were to squint his eyelids hard enough— there would be a pair of Angel white wings sprouting from your back, and a golden halo floating above your head. You looked so god damn ethereal, he thought. The harsh blaze of the sun shining against your face so elegantly that it made you look almost unreal, how your skirt blew softly along with the breeze. He has to quickly swipe the back of his hand over his mouth and make sure he’s not drooling at the sight— humming in annoyed amusement when the feeling of his saliva leaves a small, wet spot on his skin. Ignoring the weird stares he gets from other students around him, Scaramouche rises up from his spot on the grass and walks over to annoyingly insert himself in the group conversation you and your friends were having.

He doesn’t care about the glares he receives from them, because he’s more focused on the way you turn and smile at him welcomely, greeting him with that same soothing voice of yours that has his mind spinning in circles. He nods back at you in response, his eyes slightly dropping in rapture at how he’s finally close enough to you where he could do stuff like this. Everybody who was conversing with each other before he arrived, had stopped talking so freely— instead they choose to whisper their words because of the abrupt, awkward atmosphere that he had unintentionally brought over. No one there likes him, not one bit. His behaviour is creepy, not only in general— but directed towards you. Sometimes, his obsession towards you unknowingly breaks through his grumpy stature and slips up that he’s not sane. How his lips turn to a snarl when you mention hanging out with a certain friend, or how you’re coincidentally always paired up with him for assessments. Strange… yeah, they’ve noticed, and he’s noticed their more passive aggression towards him.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who bites down on his own tongue to muffle his heavy breathing when he hears your friends voice their concern about his relationship with you, as he’s stationed behind the wall to the women’s restroom— listening intently to their annoying voice. Oh how badly he wanted to pounce on and bash their skulls into the ground— but then that would really scare you off, so he dismisses it and continues to harshly scratch at the now growing scab on his thigh. You wouldn’t abandon him, would you? You did agree to be his ‘friend’ for life, even though you were drowsy from a two hour mid term test and probably had no idea what he was asking, you still agreed. Scaramouche feels his heart swell love when your sounds of disagreement enter his ears— wow, you’re sticking up for him? Arguing that he’s just a misunderstood and lonely boy, Saying he’s not as weird as everyone thinks? That you think he’s quite… cute? That last one allows a bright, red hue spread across his face, as well as his eyes pretty much dilating into hearts— a flush on his face which quickly rushes down his pants and to his dick, making it painfully prod against his now tight underwear. Though he of course wants to hear more of your silky voice echo though his ears with praise, directed at him, he hurries off to the male bathrooms so no one will catch him with a boner outside of the girls. That would definitely raise more alarms.

While Scaramouche is angrily pumping the shaft of his cock and rutting his hips up into his palm, gripping onto the tile wall of the stall he crammed himself into— he’s thinking of ways to rid of those wretched vermin you declared were friends. When the first wave of cum sprays from his dick and spreads jolts of pleasure throughout his body— he decides that they should no longer study at the same university as the both of you, and plans to fake an incident so they’ll be kicked out. When he’s moaning out your name in a shallow, pathetic whimper, squirting his fourth round of sticky cum up and all over the stall door— he thinks that, that wasn’t punishment enough. For trying to get in the way of your love, they should be gone entirely. Erased from existence with absolutely no way to interact with you, ever again. Hastily tugging up his pants, patting down his shirt and ruffling with his purple locks— Scaramouche exits the stall he had just orgasmed in and straight past the sinks, dismissing the thought of cleaning his hands and instead heads off to his next destination. Not caring about the cum he had painted all over the wall, in fact— he was more than smug about the thought of someone seeing the mess that he had left. (Because he’s yucky like that)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who— two weeks later, walks into his next class and takes his rightful seat beside you without a care in the world. As if he had not broke into one of your friends house during the middle of the night and strangled them in their sleep, just the night before. It’s was a slow and merciless process— one that he had relished in tremendously. The sight still vividly remains in his mind, how she had gasped and struggled around under the weight of his body. How his hands— tenuous as they were, wrapped around her throat and squeezed with all his strength. His eyes were downcast and luxuriating in the way her own had slowly started to loose their life, as her disgusting hands— which he knew had countlessly touched all over your graceful ones— had, inchmeal, lost their grip and fell from his arms that they were so desperately clawing onto for dear life. He hopes that they would forever remember the sinister smile he had on his lips the entire time during their suffering, because god does he wish that his face will haunt them for the rest of eternity.

He’s your shoulder to cry on when you hear of the news, when you had flung your head into the crease of his neck to weep your worries— he’s grinning like a mad man into your hair while patting your back lovingly, taking the thrilling opportunity to draw in a long and deep breath of your aroma which had fogged up into his nose. Your delicate hands are gripping onto his sleeve as you shed tears of sadness over the loss of your dear friend, all while he’s smugly lavishing in the tender warmth of your touch. Just as he had visioned, having his beloved in such a distressed state where she can hardly form coherent words, he takes this chance to voice out his words of so called solace. “Truely such an unfortunate end for them to face… if you would like, we can leave class early and I’ll walk you home. It’s not a good idea to stay here while you’re in such a… vulnerable state.” And take you home he does. From collecting your belongings and leaving the room, to whisking you away from nuisances who tried to console you themselves, Scaramouche holds your hand tightly while you both walk the path to your house. You were so wrapped up in your head that you don’t notice how he had known the exact direction without having to ask you.

The first thing Yandere Creep!Scaramouche does when he trails behind you through your front door, is rack his eyes over every wall in the entrance way for sighs of other males. Wether family photographs or shoes that he knows aren’t yours. He sighs out in relief when there is nothing for him to fret over— So he tightens his grip on your hand and trudges in the direction to your living room, right next to your bedroom. Your… bedroom… he’s almost foaming at the mouth. He’s just mere meters away from entering your bedroom for the first time ever. A place which you sleep, where you study, where you… masturbate. He pauses his steps, eyes slightly widening in realisation at the thought. You would definitely touch yourself at night, right? Maybe you grip onto your bed sheets in desperation as you’re plunging your fingers into your tight and wet pussy. Do you muffle your bonny moans with your hands out of embarrassment? Or do you let loose and allow them to echo of the walls of your room. He’s hoping option number one, for he does not want anyone other then himself to hear those cute little noises you let out. Scaramouche snaps out of his day dream when the feeling of your hand leaves his, and unconsciously, he reaches out to grip onto it because he’s already missing your warmth.

He excuses his actions of needfulness as a way to console you further, because he ‘does not want you to feel alone in this time of need.’ And encourages you to sit down and rest away your worries, as he’s by your side the entire time and tending to your needs. When you have tears leaking out from your beautiful eyes, and snot dripping from your nose— Scaramouche is extending a tissue into your hand and hovering his palm over your knee. When he notices the way your racked sobs slowly start to level with your now calmer breathing, he’s finding his way around your house and to the kitchen, searching each and every cabinet for a glass and filling it with water— back by your side before you even had the chance to notice his brief absence and handing it towards you. (Not before he keenly rummaged through your fridge and took a mental note of the foods you like to eat.) Scaramouche, with one hand, lifts the cup of liquid to your lips, while his other lands on the back of your head to tilt it upwards— and god does he feel like your boyfriend in this very moment.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who twiddles with his thumbs expectantly when you excuse yourself to the bathroom to freshen up, saying you’ll just quickly try and shower off your disturbance and be out within minutes. He nods quickly, and waves you off, muttering that he’ll wait right here on the couch for you, and watches as you waddle off in the direction he assumes is the bathroom. And he does stay put— for the first couple of minutes. Because when the sound of water rushing through the pipes, enters his hearing— he’s jumping up from his seat on the couch and making a beeline straight for your bedroom. His mouth slightly parts when he’s in the doorway, and his eyes dart around the room in excitement. Your dresser… your desk… your bed. His stare is dead set on your bed, and he’s about to start waking over to it until he accidentally steps on something soft that was lying on the floor.

When he looks down— he can basically feel his heart stop beating, because under his foot, is a cute little pair of pink underwear. Your underwear… Scaramouche doesn’t even register what his body is doing out of his control until he unconsciously drops down to his knees, in front of the item, hands cautiously reaching out to grab them as if they would try and run away. “Holy shit…” he mutters the moment his hand curls around the fabric, pinching it between his fingers and raising it up to his face. He swears he can still smell the scent of your pussy lingering on them, and he’s imagining the way your slick folds rub against the cotton with each step you take.

Scaramouche gulps down the lump in his throat, his grip tightening around the cloth as he slowly inches it closer to his face. And as much as he wants to saviour this moment, he knows that time is limited and he has to act, fast. So without a second left to waste— his hand is thrusting the material right up against his nose and taking a deep inhale. He moans, a loud and needy moan falls out his mouth and thankfully, muffles into your panties so you have no chance of hearing it. His eyes roll to the back of his head as he feels a jolt of electricity flow throughout his body. He hunches forward— his free hand planting on the ground to stabilise his trembling body. “Mhm god, so…fucking good.” He mewls, unaware that he had started drooling all over the fabric like some sort of feral animal.

God your scent smelled so good— way better then he had envisioned in his mind. Way, way better that it has his mind running fucking haywire. And although he doesn’t want to, he pulls them away from his nose to take a breather. His breaths are erratic, tongue lolling out from his lips while his eyes blink rapidly in desperation to try and rid of the black spots around his vision. He’s just in a complete state of pure euphoria as he hurriedly stuffs his face back into your underwear, his teeth clamping shut over them.

He’s wasn’t aware how long he had hunched over the floor with your panties basically shoved up his nose until he hears the faint sound of the shower turning off from the bathroom. He pauses, eyes anxiously darting up and racking around the room in a panic. Of course— just as his hand was slithering down his stomach and towards his aching dick, he knew time was up. So with all his remaining strength, he lifts up from the floor and tries to steady his shaking legs. He’s so dizzy, there’s a line of drool leaking down his chin, and his eyes are drooping in pleasure.

Scaramouche tries so hard to steady his breathing, he really does— and he’s one hundred percent sure he looks like some sort of crazy person with the way he stumbles around the room. So with one last whiff into the fabric, he quickly stuffs your underwear into his back pocket and stumbles his way towards the door, grabbing onto walls and shelves to ensure he doesn’t topple over. Thankfully, by the time he’s back in the lounge room and hunched over the couch— you emerge from the bathroom with damp hair and new clothes, an elegant scent of strawberry’s lingering off your body. (He’ll have to ask what soap you use one day.)

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche, for the next ten minutes, tries so hard to cover his boner from your gaze— he’s cupping it with his hand and grabbing a couch cushion to shield it away from you— all while he’s nodding along to whatever you say. It’s so painful, he’s occasionally taking deep, shaking breaths (which he blames on the sadness he feels for your friend) as he keeps shifting around in his seat to try and ease the tension. By the end of the day— as the sun slowly starts to set, you decide to call it a night and thank him for his time, walking him to the front door. He nods at you, eyes cast to the ground and saying to email him if you ever need anything.

Let’s hope you didn’t notice the way he tried to pull his shirt down to cover his hard cock— or why there is something pink, slightly hanging out from his back pocket.

Probably puts your underwear on his sex doll of you, lol

#SOMEONE WALKS IN ON YOU !

;feat. xiao, scaramouche, gorou, + zhongli/afab!reader

;contents. nudity, both suggestive scenes and explicit scenes, protective men heart eyes

a/n. HOPE U ENJOY

all characters presumed to be 18+. minors do not interact.

requests are open!

! XIAO

the cool water felt refreshing on your sweaty, overheated skin. you couldn't help but sigh happily as you felt all the grime vanish after the long, grueling commission you had been on.

"aren't you going to wash up, xiao?" you called to the adeptus who sat on a rock nearby, looking incredibly bored.

"i will later," he mumbled in response, chin resting on his hand.

"but you're so dirty!" you teased, rising to your feet to step back onto the shore.

your boyfriend scoffed, a hint of a smile on his lips as he watched you towel off, "you think i actually worked up a sweat over some hilichurls?"

you giggled, opening your mouth to retort before the rustle of some nearby brush had you freezing, head snapping in the direction just as a man emerged with a fishing pole slung over his shoulder.

in an almost terrifying flash, xiao was in front of you wrapping your nude body in the towel before casting a glare over his shoulder. his body was tense as he held you against his chest, every instinct in his body telling him to protect you.

the man flushed red at the sight and scrambled to leave while throwing apologies along the way.

"stupid mortals," he spat under his breath before releasing you from his hold, "hurry up and get dressed already..."

you hurried to do as you were told, unable to deny the way his actions had made your heart race in your chest.

! SCARAMOUCHE

"turn," while his voice and demeanor is anything but kind and sweet, you could tell by the way his eyes were glued onto every lovely curve of your body that he was enthralled, "does it fit okay?"

"yeah, it's comfortable," you breathe, snapping the straps of your bra before shrugging your shoulders, "i like it!"

"excellent," he breathes, turning to pick up another set he had picked out.

you reached behind you and unclipped the bra, letting it fall down your arms before placing it aside. he turned back to you, meeting your gaze for a split second before removing the new bra from the hanger.

as he stepped up to you, the door flew open, slamming against the wall. you squealed, wide eyed watching the agent stand there panting.

scaramouche, with his ever fast reflexes, wrapped his arm around your chest, shielding your bare breasts from the unwelcome eyes.

"m-my apologies..." the agent whispered, standing up straight at the sight before him.

"close to door," scaramouche's voice was eerily calm and devoid of emotion, making your own anxiety spike, "don't even think about going anywhere."

"y-yes sir," the agent stepped out, shutting the door behind him as he did.

you glanced up at your lover who had his eyes glued to the door. he continued to hold you against him, covering your vulnerable body even from his own view and you let him, leaning into his chest until he decided to let you go.

and you knew that that would be the last mistake that agent would ever make.

! GOROU

after tireless days away from one another, he finally had the chance to have you underneath him again. and although it wasn't the most ideal, you couldn't deny how much you missed being pinned down with your cunt stuffed full of his thick cock.

"m-missed this so much, missed you so much," he whined, face buried in your neck.

"l-love you so much!" you cry, fingers tangling in his unruly hair, making him groan.

neither of you noticed the two swift knocks on the door until it swung open. gorou shot straight up, eyes eyes meeting the equally startled gaze of the subordinate.

"g-general sir....i...." the flustered man clears his throat before his gaze flicks to you.

a growl broke from gorou's chest before he was covering your exposed body with a nearby blanket. intent on hiding your vulnerable body from the unwelcome eyes.

"keep your eyes to yourself! that's an order! now leave!" gorou's voice reverberated around the room, making the man jump before he spat out a hasty 'yes sir'.

the slam of the door signified his exit and gorou slumped against you, ears pinned to his chest.

"do you think it's important? do you need to go?" you ask softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

he shakes his head, meeting your gaze, "this is my leave, i don't have to do anything..."

you were surprised when he slowly started his pace up again but you weren't going to complain when it felt so good knowing you were under your handsome, protective lover.

! ZHONGLI

it wasn't by any means unusual for you to find yourself needy and pawing at your beloved right in the living room of zhongli's house. it wasn't like the man had a plethora of people who privately sought him out when he wasn't at work.

he sat back, hands on your hips for support as you lost yourself on him. his long, fat cock hitting every deliciously pleasurable spot inside you making your brain short-circuit. your pretty body was completely bare as opposed to his fully clothed self, perfect tits cupped in your hands and bouncing freely with your every movement.

you cried his name, head tossed back all while he watched you hump, grinding your clit against him every time. you were leaking, drooling down his cock and making a mess of his pants but he didn't care — this was all for you, he would let you use him until the end of time.

you were so lost in him that you didn't even notice the door opening or the glare zhongli tossed over your shoulder at the intruder. it was cold and cutting, causing the person to freeze where they stood. it was hard to miss you or even pretend like they didn't know what they walked in on.

he tugged you down against his chest to hide your face and breasts from view. his hand cupped around the nape of your neck as you started cum, sobbing and squealing into his chest — completely unaware of the unbridled rage brewing within him as the unwelcome visitor had a firsthand view of you expressing pleasure only he was supposed to see.

@xiax // do not modify or repost

idk if I turned on anon so please use this request and delete the other one thank you

but yeah same anon who requested pt2, idm a continuation but I had more boys in mind initially :)

“You Called, Master?” (pt. 2)

part one / part one (cont.)

characters: baizhu, itto, thoma, xiao, zhongli

summary: maid!reader walks in on their master getting off.

genre: smut

warnings: afab!reader (no pronouns); pet names (love, dear/est, darling, babe), unprotected, minor breeding (xiao), master-maid dynamic; not proofread!!

note: apologies for the long wait!! i’ve been dealing with some mental and physical health issues these past few months, so i’m just now working on a bunch of requests! oh, and congrats to itto for getting his own section <3

your master was… eccentric, to say the least. you weren’t quite sure how he could afford to pay you, considering you rarely ever saw him taking on work. despite his repeated lateness in providing a paycheck, your master as a kind and lively man - he treated you more as an old friend than a servant. you were finishing up the last of your daily chores when you heard your master gasp in his room. believing him to be injured, you rushed inside, only to find your master sprawled out atop his bed with his dick in his hand.

— itto was in shambles, letting out low groans and sighs as his nails left crescent-shaped marks in your skin. he held your thighs in an iron grip as he fucked himself stupid between them, so selfishly refusing to bury himself inside you despite your whines and begs for him to do so. “not yet… don’ wanna spoil all the fun, right?” your master chuckled between labored breaths, your only respite being the sensation of his cock sliding against your pussy lips. you sobbed, “master, please” and the oni felt his resolve growing weak. “alright-alright babe…” he hushed you, spreading your thighs as he repositioned. “i’ll give you what you want, huh? just don’t come cryin’ to me when it’s too much…” he punctuated his warning with a snap of his hips, bottoming out in a single thrust. your master uttered string of low curses at the sheer tightness, even as you begged for more still. one shallow thrust was all it took for him to fall apart. “okay-okay– jus’ lemme know if i’m too rough. wouldn’t want to break you so soon…”

this was so inappropriate, he was well aware - you didn’t even belong to him. you were employed by another, a master who had no interest in taking you for themselves. he fantasized about you being his, calling him your master and surrendering yourself to him fully. what would you look like on your knees for him? smiling so sweetly, taking his cock between your lips and sucking him off like a good little maid? he didn’t realize that he let out a low groan of your name until he heard a gasp from the doorway.

— thoma was so sweet, so slow while sliding into your slick folds, sighing when he finally bottomed out. “you– hahh– you feel amazing…” he whined after the first thrust, his head spinning and cock twitching inside you. “so good… for your master, huh?” his voice cracked - it hadn’t even been a minute, and he was already broken. with your skirt bunched up and balled in his fists, he tried to control his growing urge to pound you into the futon. but, when you moaned “master thoma” oh so prettily… he inhaled slowly and mumbled a quick apology before pulling out and slamming back in balls deep. “never felt this good…” the room was filled with the lewd noise of skin against skin as he fucked all of his fantasies into you, caring little for the other servants who might hear. what were they going to do, remove the kamisato clan’s finest retainer for claiming what was his? thoma couldn’t recall the last time he felt so possessive. “gonna cum? please, please cum on my dick! c’mon, love, i want it so bad…”

— xiao didn’t know how to react when you laid yourself out for him. you, his pretty little mortal, all on display… he wasn’t gentle with his first thrust, his mind too preoccupied with thoughts of filling your cunt over and over again. “fuck– i should be your master, i should be the one takin’ care of you…” he had an iron grip on the sheets as he pounded into you relentlessly, savoring every moan and sob of his name that left your lips. “say you’re mine, mortal… say you belong to me…” he burrowed his face in the crook of your neck and groaned, rutting into you so forcefully that the headboard hit the wall every other thrust. xiao couldn’t get enough, he felt drunk every time your pussy sucked him back in. you thanked the divine that wangshu inn was in such a remote location; if there were any guests tonight, their slumbers would surely be disturbed by the adeptus staking his claim on you. “you better not have an early morning tomorrow, ‘cause i don’t plan on letting you rest until the sun is up…”

your master was always such a gentleman. never asking too much of you, never talking to you unkindly, always offering you fresh tea during your breaks… yes, you were very thankful to be employed by such a kind man. one can imagine your surprise when you entered his home office, expecting to see your master hard at work as per usual. instead, you were greeted with the sight of your master, with his head tilted back against his office chair and mouth agape as he sighed while stroking himself.

— zhongli was a traditional man in everything but payment - all of your paychecks were signed by his boss or a mysterious “friend.” you had to admit, there was nothing traditional about the way he held your head, his slender fingers using your hair to force you up and down his shaft. “apologies, dearest–” he groaned, the sound coming from somewhere deep in his chest. “i’ll make sure that you are compensated handsomely for this…” your master’s hips stuttered, a raspy sigh spilling from his lips. you soon learned that your “compensation” was sitting in your master’s lap with his cock stuffed impossibly deep, making you squirm and bite your lip to muffle the obscene noises you let out every time you dropped your hips. “there you go, ah– good, just like that…” his gloved hands dug into the flesh of your ass as he helped you lift yourself up, your legs already thoroughly spent due to your master’s demand that you cum twice for every time he does. “you’ve done so well for me, dear… i believe a raise will be in order after tonight.”

— baizhu was gentle as he pushed down against your shoulders, his eyes unmoving as you lowered to your knees. he was always kind, always attentive to your needs as you are to his. but, right now, your master was focused on chasing his own high rather than attending to you. “good, good… you’re doing so well, darling…” he cooed as you sucked him off, with one hand tangled in your hair and the other wiping away the drool at the side of your mouth. the slide of your warm tongue against his shaft was all it took for your master’s hips to buck up from his chair and a stuttering gasp to leave his parted lips. “oh– someone’s a fast learner, hm?” he let out a breathless chuckle and affectionately carded his fingers through your hair once more. “now, now… let’s take this slow,” his gentle grip tightened as he guided your head at a far more languid pace, drawing out his own orgasm - and by extension, yours. you let out a pathetic moan around his cock, a beg for him to pick up the pace. “we have all day to play, darling… no need to rush.”

taglist: @stygianoir , @plasmasimagination , @minimoniac

xiao in heat? but like cat hybrid xiao.

LISTEN because contrary to popular belief xiao would be SUCH a horny little kitty,,

he's literally a virgin but when you actually help him during his first heat you're just so gentle with him and so sweet to him he falls in love with you all over again.

unbeknownst to you though, this corrupted your cute kitty.

he doesn't care what you're doing - cooking, cleaning, watching tv on the couch. you could just be getting home and stepping through the door, it doesn't really matter - xiao latches onto you immediately, licking and kissing your face affectionately.

now while this seems sweet and innocent at first, the way he subtly humps you doesn't go unnoticed.

it doesn't take long for him to get hard either, the bit of friction and your scent is driving him crazy already.

loud purring is coming from him, his whole body vibrating as he tries to keep from making sounds more akin to mewling than moaning, his small hips stuttering against what part of your body he's humping.

"y-y/n...l-let's make love."

and this is how it always goes.

now, let me explain: when you first helped xiao through his heat, it stirred something inside him. he's never been intimate with anyone before, or had himself exposed in front of someone - yet everything you said and everything you did made him feel incredibly loved in his vulnerable state. and he loved every second of it.

the most intimate and raw form of love - he concluded that that's what sex is.

he wants you to feel his love and wants to feel yours.

so now you're stuck with an unbelievably horny kitty that won't be able to sleep without having had his cummies <333

it's like he's ALWAYS in heat.

can NEVER get enough of you.

he'd also NEVER refer to sex as, well, sex. it's always 'making love' or maybe 'mating'.

if you were to call it 'fucking' though, he'd get so so embarrassed! please tease him by talking dirty like that, he'd literally start squirming,,

VERY vocal and sensitive boy, I could keep talking about him endlessly,,

The unexpected third and final part to the series I never gave a name to, otherwise known as a continuation of the jealous Venti, overworked reader, and treasure hoarders fiasco

Warnings: general sagau, blood, implied death (not main characters)

Keep reading

Childe with a naive s/o...they're just so tiny and cute but they haven't even had their first kiss! Childe is the perfect person to teach them! After all, he's so smart, strong, and never has selfish intentions. And Childe knows best and that does include sex and discovering kinks! Bonus points if they're often stoic or quiet and Childe just riles them up. Every facial expression, whimper, and moan is all because of him.

content warnings. naive! reader, virginity loss, unprotected sex, fellatio, size kink, cock-warming, dacryphilia, vaginal fingering, afab! reader. minors dni!

yes <3

<< thirst collection >>

you trust childe a lot ♡

even if it make your heart shakes when you kiss him, his hand dipping lower and lower to your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties. it dizzying, foreign to the feeling; you buried your face to his neck, clinging on him while you straddled his hips.

even if he come to join you in your bed, calloused palm from years of training and wielding various weapons traced against your belly and up to your chest, fondling with your tits until you playfully whine him to stop. your eyes fluttered to watch his finger pulling down your shorts, letting it hang on your ankles before playing with your pretty cunny <3 he lives of by your quiet moans, your fist tugging his shirt to pull him into a kiss. you'd just ended up falling sleeping against him with his finger stuffed inside of you.

childe taught you many things, ranging from how to play with yourself when he isn't near you to giving him a blow job under his desk. love to see your bruised lips wrapping around his tip, sucking and kissing while you stroke it with your two fist. he thinks it's adorable seeing your cheeks puffing up, eyes watering from having him deep down your throat. the warm coil settled in your belly, sending tingles down to your virgin cunt when he praises you a lot <3

he's a sweet boyfriend and you are nothing but his eager partner who's too innocent for her own good ><

he'd be the type to fucked you till you're crying, hiccuping from having his cock stretching you apart. sucking your sensitive nipples till you're back arching, cumming just from his fingerpad gently rubbing your clit. although he wasn't rough, his size itself bring discomfort to you, make your nails sunk into his shoulder blade. you're too cute, make him want to bend your body beneath and split you apart with his cock but childe didn't have the heart to treat you like that during your first time, not when you sweetly cry for him to continue, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slowly thrust deep inside of you.

his pretty baby is so cute when they cry, lips quivering before peering their eyes down to see his cock disappearing inside of them <3 couldn't help but to kiss you face all around, holding your hand so you feel safe! you used to be quiet with him but now you're all a mess, whimpering out of pleasure while his cock hits your spongy spot.

he just fucked you into a deep sleep, lifting your limp body and make you sit on his lap while you cockwarm him <3 he still have many nights for you to be taught more things, for now he'd just let you rest.

beside, it's not like you're going anywhere far from him,,

Title: Clear As Porcelain.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Kidnapping, Mentions of Death/Injury, and Slight Dehumanization.

You heard Scaramouche’s laugh before you ever saw his face.

It might've been more like a cackle, actually – the noise so uneven and so cracked, you mistook it for the screeching of a wild animal, assumed a frightened boar or a very distressed bird had wandered into your storefront and would find its way out again, after it calmed down. You only thought to look up from the ceramic figurine you were painting (a commissioned piece of the Shogun in all of her awe-inspiring, ethereal grace) when you heard the door to your workshop crash open and hit the opposing wall with enough force to shake the contents of a shelf hanging nearby. He was standing there, disheveled, grinning, his clothes soaked and his eyes wild, and he was mumbling – to himself, at first, and then loudly, his voice spiking as his tone dipped into something sharp and erratic. “That bitch, she could’ve—She tried to take my fucking arm off. I’ll fucking kill her. I’ll choke her to death with her own fucking tail—”

“Sir,” You cut him off, turning to face him. His hair was partially seared, too, despite the fact that he looked like he’d just crawled out of the ocean. Faintly, you could smell traces of smoke and ozone, but you were more preoccupied by the puddle he was going to leave on your floor than whatever mess he'd clearly gotten himself into before barging into your shop. “We’ve already closed for the night. If you want to place an order, you can—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He was already limping forward, already shoving armloads of supplies and half-finished projects out of his way as he pulled himself onto your worktable. He stopped at the figurine, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second, but that was on the floor too soon enough. You heard something crack, but your attention was pulled away before you could evaluate the damage, back to Scaramouche, now lying on the wooden tabletop, pulling his tattering sleeve up to his shoulder. “Fix it. I don’t care how. I’ll pay you when you’re done, just make sure it looks like the rest.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. The injury was on his bicep, if you could really call it an injury at all. It was more like… shattered porcelain, what should’ve been torn, bloodied skin replaced with ragged cracks and chipped paint. Some portions were missing entirely, giving way to black void. There was no blood, or muscle, or fat. There was nothing, save for the interior shell of his arm on the other side.

He was as hollow as a doll.

Huh.

You reached over him, to the other side of your table, grabbing the container of resin he’d nearly overturned. The hardener was already in your pocket, and you could mix your paint later on, while the plaster dried. You had a feeling he wouldn’t think to question it, if you took your time. “Please, try to hold still. I’ll be gentle.”

He didn’t. Honestly, you doubted he’d even heard you, too preoccupied with his own manic, meaningless rambling. You were able to convince him to lay down, to let you work on his bicep without having to worry that you’d leave him stuck to your table with a thin layer of white cement. You were able to lay the resin, and as you sanded down the excess, his ranting came back into earshot, his words once again beginning to form coherent thoughts, more or less. “She tried to kill me.I don't know why. She’d already killed, I don’t fucking know—” He brought up his free hand, gesturing vaguely. “—all of my men. I don’t know what she wants. What could she even do to me that her and her fucking girlfriend haven’t already done?”

The rest of his arm was porcelain, too. Disguised porcelain, sure, clearly meant to mimic flesh and bone, but you recognized good craftsmanship, the little methods and techniques employed to trick the eye and present dead clay as something else, something with more life inside of it. You wondered, briefly, if it was a prosthetic, but it would’ve had to start somewhere closer to his collarbone than his shoulder, and you could see his fingers twitching as you smoothed over rough mortar, as you did your best to make the patch indistinguishable from what you could see of his undamaged skin. If you could call it ‘skin’.

Suddenly, Scaramouche fell silent. After a moment, you realized he wanted a response. You hesitated, but forced yourself to say something, if only so you could focus on the task at-hand. “Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“She’s always wanted me dead.” You pushed your chair back. You’d been painting when he came in, but what little you’d had on your palette had long-since dried and cracked, and the rest of your supplies were in a cabinet hung on the far wall. You could feel his eyes boring into you as you searched for what you’d need. When you glanced over your shoulder, he didn’t bother trying to look away. “I don’t know what she has against me. I’ve never done anything to her, or that tyrant.”

“Some people just choose to be cruel, like that. There isn’t always a reason for it.”

His voice was quieter, now, slower. He let his head roll back, his attention falling to the ceiling. “People say I’m cruel.”

“You don't seem very cruel to me.”

He didn’t answer. By the time you found your way back to him, his eyes were closed, and he didn’t wake up until long after the sun rose the next morning.

~

A week after he left, a man in a uniform came to your door and announced that he’d been ordered to escort you to the estate of his master, the Balladeer, Honorable Lord Scaramouche. When you asked why you were being summoned, he told you to bring your tools, and you asked no other questions.

He received you in his parlor, a large room made just a little smaller by the painted screens that lined every wall, made just a little more oppressive by the fact that it was empty of all but you, Scaramouche, a low chabudai, and the tea tray that sat on top of it. You sat across from him, tucking your legs underneath you and keeping your tool kit at your side. No sooner than you'd settled into place, Scaramouche nodded, and the soldier took his leave, bowing and closing the door behind him.

He started, predictably. There was no greeting, but you hadn’t expected one, not really. Not from him. “I trust you've realized that our last transaction will have to stay between us.” Formal words, made to cut precisely and leave no room for error or argument, so unlike his manic rambling from the week before. It didn’t suit him, as a costume of fine lace and silk wouldn’t suit a child’s mangled toy. “It would be… inconvenient, for me and the organization I represent, if the Shogunate was forced to waste their time and look into our actions. I’m sure an investigation would be an issue for your business, as well, and make it difficult for us to reimburse you for the services you’ve already provided.” He paused, leaning onto the chabudai. “Wouldn't you agree?”

You didn’t hesitate, this time. “A client asked me to repair something very important to him. I don’t see why the Shogunate has to know anything else.”

There were no visible signs of approval, no hum or nod of his head. He closed his eyes, instead, and brought a hand up to the collar of his nagagi, toying with the fabric as he spoke. “And if this client asked you to make another repair, would you accept the job with the same discretion?”

A few minutes later, Scaramouche's nagagi was pooled around his waist and you were kneeling behind him, mixing your plaster as you looked over the array of lesions scattered across his back. They weren’t scars, exactly, and you didn’t want to call them open wounds. If anything, they were more similar to scrapes, deep scratches in his porcelain that darkened and cracked at the edges, forming a sprawling web of hairline fractures. It was a wonder he was still in one piece, honestly. It seemed like a strong gust of wind would be enough to shatter him.

It was a momentary impulse, as fleeting as it was self-serving, but before you could swallow it down, you ran your hand over his back, tracing over a cut that ran parallel to his spine. He tensed, glanced towards you, and you offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen something so…”

“Bizarre?” The suggestion was accompanied by a bark of laughter, a wild grin. “You nation has dancing tanuki and wandering spirits. You can’t tell me that I’m the only oddity you’ve ever run into.”

“Well-crafted,” You mumbled, already distracted. He was more awake than he had been last time you’d worked on him, more aware, and he shuddered as you spread the plaster over the uppermost lesion, curling into himself before he could correct his posture. “Oh, does that hurt?”

That wasn’t really what you meant, but Scaramouche didn’t give you a chance to correct yourself. “It’d hurt more to let my body cave in on itself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I could use a different technique.” If the rest of his body was like his arm, he probably didn’t have a rib cage, or shoulder-blades, or anything you had to be wary of or avoid. Still, you tried to work around what might affect his mobility, and when it came time to cut away the excess, you worked quickly, unsure if he could feel what hadn’t already set. “Or, we could bring in a healer. They couldn’t use pyro or hydro, but—”

“That’s not an option.” He didn’t even give you a chance to finish, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders – nearly causing you to chip away a piece of his side, in the process. “This is going to stay between us. No one else has to know. It would be—” He cut himself off with an airy sigh, as shallow as it was exhausted. “I don’t need my subordinates spreading rumors about my ball-joints. You’re not to breathe a word of this to anyone, from the Shogunate or otherwise.”

You were quiet, for a moment.

Then, you leaned against him, resting one hand on the dip of his shoulder while the other fell to the small of his back, your fingertips pushing absentminded patterns into his cool skin. “For such an important client?”

He grit his teeth as you started, but didn’t make a sound.

“Consider it our secret.”

~

Six months and a dozen appointments later, you woke up on a bed, in the cabin of a ship, your wrists bound behind your back and a bruise beginning to form on your cheek from where his soldier had struck you before driving a needle into the side of your neck.

He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, gaze cast downward. When you began to stir, he , a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked over your bound form. If there was any part of him you didn’t care for, it would’ve had to be his eyes. They lacked something, a certain light that should’ve been there if he’d been made of something else, if he’d been just a little more alive. You doubted you could’ve done any better, but that didn’t mean you had to praise his lifeless stare.

“It was a new recruit. I’ll have his fingers broken when we dock – or if he’s foolish enough to show his face to me before then, the next time I see him.” For a second, you wondered what he was talking about, but his hand came up, cupping your injured cheek, and your confusion was quickly replaced with hollow irritation, traces of dampened panic. “I didn’t tell him not to hit you, but archons, you’d think one of these imbeciles would be able to think for themselves. If anyone on this ship so much as looks at you, tell me. The last thing I need to deal with is idiots as disobedient as they are stupid.”

“I don’t—” You tried to sit up, only to fall back onto your side immediately. Your vision blurred, spun, and your body felt weak, as if your blood had been drained from your veins and replaced with solid lead. He laughed as you clenched your eyes shut and shrunk into yourself, as you tried to get the world around you to stop moving, if only for long enough to let you catch your breath. “Scaramouche, I—”

“Kunikuzushi.” A slightly tightened grip, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone in a gesture that you could nearly call tender. “Say it for me.”

“Kunikuzushi…” Your voice was quiet, weak. You felt weak. You probably looked weak, too, but he didn’t seem to care. “Wha—What’s going on? I can’t—”  

He was grinning, now, the expression eager and unabashed. “It’s nothing you’ll have to worry about. Her Excellency has called me back to Snezhnaya, and I thought it would be wise to keep my dollmaker in the same country as myself.” A blade was produced from his belt, or a nearby dresser, or some other forsaken place, and the rope circled around your wrist was cut with no great amount of thought or ceremony. You were dragged into his lap with just as little ease, your head soon resting on his thighs and his fingers soon skirting over your neck, your shoulder. His hands were so cold, as if he’d never known an ounce of warmth in his life. As if he’d never bothered to make himself into anything more than damp clay. “I’ve already taken care of your store. You can thank me later on, when we go over what could and what couldn’t be salvaged from the fire.”

You took a long moment to remember how to use your tongue, how to speak with any confidence. Even after that, it still came out so quietly, you had to question if he heard you at all. “And if I don’t want to go with you?”

A light chuckle, in response, the noise wistful and idle and awful. “You will,” He said, the promise as hollow as he was.

“Soon enough, you'll only ever want to be by my side.”

TIGHNARI AND APHRODISIAC SHROOMS UR BRAIN IS SO HUGE do NOT apologise for it I could kiss you right now !! Tighnari is so sweet and thoughtful surely he would never :(( right :((

(thinking about him slipping something into ur food when you’re not looking, praying to whichever god that you’ll come to him begging for his help later)

cw: drugging, yandere, dub-con, not sfw

you're not entirely sure what's wrong with you; cannot properly put a description to the prickling heat and the ache inside of you that has come on since this evening's dinner. you do try and sneak a look at some of the other rangers, to see if they're experiencing something similar - whilst you're all, by now, experts on which mushrooms and fungi and plants are poisonous, there's always the chance that something that's been used in a dish has been contaminated - but nobody but you appears to have had such an adverse reaction.

there's only one thing for it.

you try your best not to bother tighnari with trivial matters; in fact, you lie in your little hut for what seems like hours, pushing off all of the blankets and trying to ignore the fact that your entire body seems like it’s on fire, but nothing seems to do anything to quell the heat. you sweat and sigh and whimper, tossing your head, desperately hoping that it goes off - and at three in the morning, you give up, and you try and put on the least amount of clothes that’s still decent and use the cover of darkness to find your way to the general watchleader’s hut--

tighnari’s ears are sensitive from miles away, and they’re particularly attuned by now to the sounds that you make. he hears the whimpers and the sighs, hears you pad along the wooden constructions, hears your heavy breathing and the soft moan that falls from your lips when - he imagines - your thighs press together and the friction provides a modicum of relief. inside, he is giddy; he has been waiting for this. but when you come to his door and sniffle out something about how you hurt, you think you’re running a fever, is there anything he can do . . . he is as kind and comforting as ever, gently chastising you for not coming sooner.

closes the door behind him. takes your temperature and clicks his tongue and says that he’ll prepare some herbal medicine, lay down on the bed and wait for him - purposely lets his bare fingertips (you woke him from his ‘sleep’, after all - of course he’s only in a pair of cotton pyjamas with a hole cut for his tail. he needs to sleep in things that are easy to shrug off so he can get dressed quickly in an emergency). brush over your own bare skin. 

. . . the feel of tighnari’s fingers on you is heavenly. your lashes flutter, your throat bobs, and you stifle a moan. tighnari’s tail swishes, ears twitching, a deep intake of breath - and then he touches you again, gently asking if that’s soothing you any. 

it is. he continues; pretending to be entirely professionally concerned and hoping that the light in his eyes isn’t too strong. pushes up the hem of your shirt, touching your bare stomach - your mind hazy, arching your back for him until his hands are cupping your breasts and his thumbs are trailing circles over your nipples and your breath is heaving. 

it’s important to tighnari that you ask him; that you think that this is all your own fault and not his. he sighs and asks you if you’ve been near a particular kind of flora recently, says something about the gases and continues to tell you off even as he’s pinching at the hardening buds, slipping a hand down the front of your thin pyjama shorts to brush over your heated sex. you’re too far gone to question him, just mumbling tearful apologies and canting your hips up and begging him to touch you more, you’re sorry you’re sorry you’re sorry--

well. tighnari acts a little put upon, as if his cock isn’t boring a hole through what he’s wearing; sighs at you, all weary, and says that he can ease the symptoms if that’s what you really want. just say the word; tighnari’s a nice young man, he’s not going to touch you without your explicit consent--

(after your explicit consent is given, though . . . he’s insatiable. rough tongue dragging over bare skin, fingers tipped with almost claws digging into your hips, nose buried between your thighs as he rasps out how good you smell in between hungry laps of your slick . . . rutting into you like an animal in heat. knotting you, pressing his teeth into your bare shoulders, fucking you and fucking you and fucking you and loving the smell of you needy and wanting and the sound of your high-pitched whimpers and whines. normally, he would hate those . . . but if they’re from you--).

in the morning, you find that your itinerary for patrols has changed; that tighnari is having your hut re-assigned so it’s closer to his. he tuts at you and shakes his head and tells you that you clearly need a little re-education in safety within the avidya forest. from now on, the two of you will spend more time together. he’s even finagled some private time for meals--

(he has a supply of the powdered mushrooms he slipped into your curry last night, and he knows exactly where to pick more). 

gorou got me in a chokehold ⁉️ LET ME OUTTT

cw: humping, frottage, fem gn reader

Gorou who humps you from behind. Can’t fucking help rutting his cock over your barley clothed ass like he’s in heat, hands twitching to rip your pj shorts off.

“Sorry, m’sorry i cant help it.” He groans, yanking your panties down so he can slip his cock between your folds. Drools over your shoulder, slobbering into your neck like a dog. Pants and groans while his bare cock thrusts messily between your slick thighs.

Arms wrapped around your waist, hands groping the plush skin as you tremble and shiver at the way his cock splits you apart but doesn’t enter. He laps at your jaw as an apology, caramel ears flattening over his head when the red tip of his cock catches your clit.

“You’re so wet, dripping. I know you wan’ this to.” He mumbles, incisors nipping at your skin. The sticky pre smears across your folds and makes you wetter. You know his tail is fucking wagging, smacking against his own back. He whines, hips jackrabbiting against you and missing your hole. His length pulsing against your clit makes you drool, thighs tighter against him.

Gorou humps you till he cums against your pussy, pressing the bright pink head that’s smeared in milky pre along the opening of your lips. Shooting ropes of cum against you till it drips along your thighs. You think he’s done, think that he’ll pull away. But you groan when he murmurs an apology and he’s still hard against your ass.

scaramouche + "won't you kiss me already? please, my lord?"

note: yandere, cheekiness, the audacity of it all

"No, no,” he says, voice thin and impatient. “Not like that.” He huffs, and you suddenly remember an old schoolteacher you had, who used to rap student’s palms with a stick when they were displeased. At least lord Scaramouche has no such stick. “You’re saying them like some schoolchild forced to read lines.” 

You, kneeling on a cushion, twist the fabric of your robes in your hand. Not out of anxiety, because you are far past feeling it today, but out of boredom. He’s been at this for far too long. 

“I don’t know how you would like me to say it, my lord.” 

His eyes roll until you’re sure they’ll stick in the back of his head. You’re about to tell him so, when he continues. 

“Are you daft? Say it like you’re in love.” He pauses. “No, more than that. You need to sound enamored. Obsessed.” 

You sigh, dryly, and let the long folds of your sleeves drop in boredom. 

“And why must I do this again?” 

It’s only to Scaramouche that you would ever dare speak so boldly, so casually, lacking the reverence expected of a handmaiden in your station. 

He snorts through his nose. 

“Isn’t it obvious? To show those other imbeciles that I have you. That I’m the one you chose.” He smirks a little, taunting. “Or do you pretend not to notice how they looked at you, before?”

You don’t point out that he chose for you, having petitioned the Tsaritsa to have you transferred to his service. A handmaiden, a servant, a lover--whatever you were to him, exactly. You weren’t sure if it was difficult to tell, or if Scaramouche himself didn’t exactly know. 

Instead, you rise--without being prompted, cheeky thing--and take his unsuspecting hands in yours. His fingers twitch, just enough for you to notice. 

“If you want someone to sound in love, enamored, and obsessed, my lord,” you say, letting a flicker of a smile grace your expression. “Perhaps you should do the talking.”