Genshin Characters That Eat Pussy For Your Pleasure Vs Their Pleasure

Invocation. Yan Childe x Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, manipulation o’clock. Word count: 2.6k.

Takes place in the shared Harbinger AU. 

You thought jokes were supposed to be funny.

Humor is, at its core, subjective and dependent upon the interpreter. What fell flat for some might tickle the fancy of another. You can wrap your brain around that much, yet there’s plenty you’re left uncertain about. There’s a dead weight cupped in your hands, held with the same reverence one would their newborn child, but without any of the joy and celebration. In the gemstone’s multifaceted gleam, your reflection is split throughout multiple surfaces. No matter what angle you incline it toward, your expression stays consistent; the same dreary physiognomy you speed past mirrors to avoid viewing. Just for a different reason now.

Indeed, you believe this to be the ultimate joke that could descend upon the tragedy that is your life.  

All that’s missing is laughter — specifically your laughter — since you’re the one this comedy gold must be intended for. Its captive audience. Eventually, you do just that. Exhaling sharply through your nose in what technically constitutes a chuckle. Hah, hah.

To anyone eavesdropping by the thin walls, however, it would sound far more like a choked cry.

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Clandestine Rendezvous | Himmel x Reader

If you weren’t so turned on and so touchy, the assignment would have done by now. If you weren’t teasing him, this wouldn’t have happened. If you weren’t wearing that skirt and thigh highs he wouldn’t be so hard right now.

All these reasons he could possibly think of endlessly hovered in his mind, but such excuses turned out so petty when he himself had secretly enjoyed this erotic and salacious “accident” you displayed for him.

Nameless Bard x Fem!Reader

disclaimer: NB is aged up and story is set on modern AU, service top Himmel and power bottom reader

warning: NSFW content, this fic is just pure smut no actual story, multiple orgasm, public sex

art belongs to: ylceon

word count: 11.2k

note: this is a two-part valentine special fic for my beloved himmel <33 i didnt mean to turn this into a valentine special but i just thought hey why not do it since imma eventually gonna post the second part in white day (march 14th)

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The other woman

part 2

You were overjoyed with your marriage to Aemond, unfortunately for you— he doesn’t feel the same way. You will always be the other woman.

Inspired by Lana Del Rey’s song The other woman.

warnings: incest (Uncle and Niece) angst, Aemond being a shit husband.

—

“Hmm” Your husband barely replies, an unamused look on his face as you make small talk with him over supper. You find his lack of response slightly embarrassing, feeling your cheeks warm as you try to ignore the eyes around the table that observe the both of you interact. They have pity in theirs, aware of the bitter treatment you’ve been receiving from the prince since you were wed four months ago.

It was one solely based on duty, for your family name and to keep the bloodline strong, both your parents agreed to the marriage. You were ecstatic upon hearing the news of your betrothed. You had always admired your uncle, dreaming of one day being wed to him, you had always felt in your heart that there would be no better match for you than Aemond.

Aemond couldn’t have felt any more different. He felt trapped and bound for eternity in a marriage he didn’t want nor ask for, he was forced into it by his parents and sister— caving into their excuses of wanting the best for the family. He had a love he wished to wed already waiting for him, his sweet Alys, whom he would never be able to call wife or bear children with now that he was married to you. Until mere months ago he had viewed you only as his niece and nothing more, now he didn’t know how to view you. He was certain about one thing though and that was that you were not the woman he wanted.

“My love..” Your words are soft as you speak to him, hoping to make it less obvious to your family you were yet again trying to spark conversation.

“I told you not to call me that. Are your ears in good shape or are you just an imbecile?” Aemond’s words cut through you like a blade, his tone causing a lump to grow in your throat. You hated how sensitive you’ve always been, you needed thicker skin if you were to survive this marriage.

My love

Alys called him that, he had chastised you for using the term before — explaining to you why he wished for you not to say those words again. They were hers for him alone, it was a painful reminder for him of the woman he longed for, the one he couldn’t have. The one that was robbed from him and shipped away to what felt like the other ends of the earth.

“I apologise, dear husband. It was a mistake” You say, trying your hardest not to let your voice tremble as you speak. He scoffs, downing the wine in his goblet before he continues his assault.

“Utter those words to me again and I will sever your tongue” He spits at you, words even more venomous that the ones before. You hear Alicent drop her cutlery, a disapproving look on her face as she chastises her son.

“Aemond— how dare you speak to your wife as such”

Everything around you becomes a blur, you block out the sounds of his mother and the way he argues back— claiming that you’re his wife and he can deal with you as he wishes. You wish nothing more than to just disappear from this table, from Kings landing itself. To get as far away from your husband as you could, you missed your own home with your loving parents and siblings.

“Excuse me for a moment” You say, voice barely heard before you push out of your seat and excuse yourself from the table. With your head low, you exit the room, the humid air causing you to hyperventilate once you’re hit with the fresh air in the hall. You can finally breathe, no longer feeling the pressure of Aemond beside you. You didn’t realise how uneasy he made you feel, only now that you were away from him you were able to relax your muscles and take deep breaths to calm your nerves.

You don’t bother to return to the dining room and instead quietly make your way back to your shared bedchamber. Uncertain of whether or not your husband would return to you tonight, you change into your night wear and lay down. Your eyes are shut but you can’t sleep, your thoughts and worries plague your mind as you attempt to lull yourself into slumber. You hope to be fast asleep when Aemond returns, if he does, to avoid having to face him.

He stumbles in hours later, reeking of wine and vhagar’s scent— he hums a tune of some sort as he shuffles around, lazily throwing his clothing onto the floor.

Great he’s drunk.

Despite his obnoxious noises, you remain unbothered as you pretend to sleep, your back turned to him and your eyes still shut as you wait for him to undress and get into bed. You expect silence from him, his usual behaviour even on nights when he’s dead sober. You used to excuse his cold attitude from being too exhausted from his duties to wish you goodnight. Now you know he didn’t have any words to share with you, he could barely stand the thought of sharing his nights with you.

“My sweet wife, are you awake?” His voice soft and smoother than honey, a tone you weren’t used to. He wasn’t being short with you for once and it confused you.

You feel his hand caress down your side, sighing heavily he pulls the sheet back and slips into the space behind you. His warmth radiates against your skin as he presses up against you more personally now, his arm circling your waist and face nuzzled into the back of your hair.

“You smell divine” He hums in satisfaction, hand grazing the skin of your exposed stomach. Although you knew he was drunk, his touches felt good and you tried to savour it for as long as you could— even with the knowledge of how ingenuion his actions were right now.

“I am sorry for how I treated you tonight, that was not— that was not husbandly of me” He stutters out, the first time you’ve ever heard any of his words sound imperfect. His strong facade never faltered with you, with what little words he did share with you he was always so sure about how he spoke to you, it was you who was always a mess.

“Forgive me, my love” He hums, placing soft kisses into your hair as his hand caresses your skin lovingly. For once you feel a small smile grace your lips, his sweet words causing you to feel emotional.

All you ever wanted was his love. For him to treat you with the utmost care and for you both to finally find love in this marriage of yours, no matter how rocky the beginning may have been. Your only wish was for him to love you the way you love him, to hear him utter the three words you once said to him but never received back. Only then could you die a happy woman.

You almost cave in to the urge of breaking your silence and turning around to face your husband. You want to kiss him, caress his face as you confess how long you’ve been waiting for him to treat you so delicately. His touch full of love and care rather than the coldness you’ve grown accustomed to.

“I love you, Alys”

His words cause your stomach to drop, tears burning in your eyes that were now open and facing the panels on the wall beside you. Aemond repeats his words again, wincing slightly you shut your eyes tight and wait for him patiently to fall into a drunken sleep.

He was never talking to you. Those sweet words he just uttered moments ago were meant for his true love, Alys— not you.

The realisation makes you shut your eyes tight, tears shedding from them and trailing down your cheeks freely as you try to comfort yourself. Aemond falls asleep with his arm around your waist and face nuzzled into your shoulder, he feels so close but so far away from you.

He will never be yours

You repeat in your head like torture as you lull yourself to sleep, finally being able to rest with the finalisation that you were always going to be the other woman.

I've suddenly been hit with Yandere!Albedo x reader x Yandere!Tighnari brain rot.

Perhaps Albedo coercing- I mean convincing you to accompany him to Sumeru as his 'lovely assistant' to gather some unique mushrooms for his experiments, as well as get some much needed fresh air from being trapped on that damned mountain for so long. But because Albedo just can't resist eating the first new mushroom he comes across, you have to go out looking for help when he collapses and starts spouting lovey-dovey nonsense in his state of delirium.

Luckily (or unfortunately, depending on how you see it), Tighnari is out on patrol and knows this kind of situation quite well, much to his annoyance. Though he hates it when people yell, somehow, this new voice - though loud - is pleasing to his sensitive ears. Just something about that panicked voice rouses those predatory instincts inside in the best of ways.

So while Albedo is still recovering, Tighnari can't help but keep asking you about you and your 'relationship' with this alchemist. He wonders if maybe it's time for him to take on a new protégé. He teaches you the basics, mostly so that you can tell your 'idiot of a teacher' which mushrooms not to eat, but also so that you can see how much better of a teacher he can be, someone who you can rely on.

Obviously, once Albedo catches onto this devious scheme, he's not going to let it slide. No one, and I mean no one, gets to take his precious student under their wing other than himself. He promised you that he would show you the secrets of this world, after all. And he is someone who keeps their promises.

The whole thing becomes a giant dick measuring contest, with poor old you stuck in the middle. Sure, while you would like to finally get away from Albedo - truthfully, you we're thinking about just leaving him back when he ate that one mushroom, only for Tighnari conveniently find you mere moments later - this new guy was clearly up to something.

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

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

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

oh, how you should have.

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

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

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

“this is what you asked for.”

Title: Supersede

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Mild Spoilers, Unhealthy Relationships, Mentions of Past Abuse, and Obsessive Behavior.

A few weeks ago, a traveler with golden hair and stars in their eyes tried to tell you that your husband was not the man you’d come to know.

You’d obviously laughed off their attempts to explain how a ‘world tree’ and the plots of Fatui Harbingers would leave you married to a stranger who’d, in a past life, supposedly taken you as his hostage spouse and punished your escape attempts with bolts of lightning and electric shocks, neither of which your dearly beloved had ever shown any affinity for. It was gibberish, all of it – the meaningless drivel of a madman with all the time in the world to construct a story about time travel and false gods and century-spanning calamities. You couldn’t possibly be asked to believe a word of it. You refused to believe a word of it.

Or, you would’ve refused, if your husband hadn’t suddenly started acting… unlike himself around the time of the traveler’s visit.

Even now, he was doing something he’d done before – pouring over tomes older than the two of you combined, searching for something you couldn’t begin to name in the faded text written across tattered pages. He’d read before, sure, but his preference had veered towards travel guides, folk tales, the occasional light novel when you were passing through Inazuma and something about blacksmith heroes or star-crossed lovers caught his eyes, and he would always try to drag you into it, pulling you against his side as he tried to explain the tangled romance between a war-hardened general and rebel spy sent to win her heart (he had a soft spot for stories doomed to end tragically). Seeing him like this, buried among texts as dry as Sumeru’s desert, making no effort to pull you into his lap or coax you out of the bay window you’d balled yourself up in – it felt like you were boarding with a scholar, not a wanderer. It felt wrong.

The fact that you had a window to sit in at all was bizarre. You could count the number of inns you’d stayed at since meeting him on a single hand. Neither of you were fragile, and you didn’t mind sleeping under the stars, seeking shelter in shrines and treetops and stifling your laughter as you tried to teach your husband how to start a fire from scratch for the thousandth time. You preferred it, in all honesty. Cooping yourself up inside always made you feel anxious, trapped, like a fox about to stumble into a lurking snare. Your claustrophobia must’ve slipped his mind, though. That, or he just didn’t care.

You leaned against the glass, curling your tail around your folded legs. Your tapered ears pressed into the sides of your skull, but you ignored it, clearing your throat before you spoke. “You know, I’ve heard there’s a plot of uncharted ruins just west of Apam Wood.” He glanced in your direction, and you grinned, letting your head lull to the side. “Sounds fun, right? If we leave tomorrow, we should be able to—”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would I want to waste my time in a glorified pit filled with cave paintings and ruin guards?”

He’d proposed to you in a pit – Liyue’s Chasm, to be more specific. You’d been stranded with a group of miners at the bottom of a temperamental elevator shaft, and he had absent-mindedly admitted that he’d always pictured himself dying as your husband, not your lover. The elevator was ultimately repaired before you suffered any causalities, but he’d made good on his word. You still weren’t sure if the one-eyed captain you’d found performed an entirely legitimate ceremony, but you could still remember how brightly he smiled, what his lips had tasted like when you'd kissed him that day.

If it hadn’t been real, if it hadn’t really happened, then you wouldn’t be able to remember it so clearly. If he wasn't your husband, then you wouldn't see

“How about Vanarana, then? The sky there is supposed to be such a sight, no poet can describe its beauty in fewer than a dozen pages.”

“I’ve heard the same kind of thing said about Yashiori Island, and Dragonspine, and Cuijue Slope. I’m beginning to think the poets are the ones at fault.”

You shrunk into yourself, pursing your lips. Finally, he seemed to notice your melancholy, pushing himself to his feet with an airy sigh and reluctantly shutting his tome. In a few seconds, he was at your side, seated across from you in the cushioned windowsill. All he had to do was uncross his arms and you were lurching towards him, slotting yourself against his chest and burying his face in the fabric of his shirt. There was a breathy laugh, more demeaning than anything you’d heard from him before the traveler’s visit, but you chose to ignore that, to melt into the arm wrapped around your waist, the fingernails slowly raking over the base of your ears. That, at least, hadn’t changed. He’d always found your circumstance – as an unaging puppet with no heart and an immortal kitsune with no supernatural abilities – particularly romantic.

“I know you’re bored, but what I’m doing is necessary.” Right. His all-important mission, handed down from Lesser Lord Kusanali herself. It wasn’t that you didn’t believe him – it just wasn’t like your husband to care about the goals of archons. You two had never stayed in the same place long enough to be bothered by the ongoings of gods and goddesses, before. “We’ll be traveling again in a couple weeks. And when we are, I promise, you’ll be treated to every mediocre view and monster-infested colliery this shithole of a nation has to offer.” He flashed you a grin, kissing your cheek. “Think of it as... compensation. For how good you've been for me, so far.”

You were quiet, for a moment.

Then, you brought your hands up to rest on his arm, asking softly, “Do you remember where we met?”

His hold on you tightened ever so slightly. “In Inazuma, obviously.”

“Do you remember how?”

He opened his mouth, then hesitated. Instantly, you felt your heart shatter in your chest.

But you didn’t pull away. If anything, you only sunk further into him, going near-limp in his hold while he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips just barely ghosting over the column of your throat. Even his affection was had changed, all lingering touches and sparse hints of fondness where there used to be stolen kisses, unabashed praise, as much love crammed into every possible second, like the hundreds of years you’d spent together still weren’t enough for him. Like this new person in front of you, this distorted imitation of your dear husband, was simply too used to having you in the palm of his hand to ever entertain the thought of a world wherein you might’ve been anywhere else.

“Are you…” You started, reluctantly, quickly trailing off. It took you a few seconds to find your voice, to swallow down the knot of tension forming in the back of your throat, but he waited, more patient than he’d ever been before. “Are you still my husband?”

He didn’t hesitate, this time. “Of course,” and then, with his lips still pressed against your skin, “I’ll be whatever I have to be, for you.”

The comfort was minimal, if there truly was comfort to be found in his words at all. He was a stranger to you, a replacement, and yet, you stayed quiet, bit your tongue as he pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses into the crook of your neck, the dip of your shoulder. You burnt where he touched you, and you didn’t trust the way his teeth scraped against your skin, but what else were you supposed to do?

Your husband was gone. If the traveler's words were anything to go by, he was all you had left.

꒰⚘݄꒱₊ 𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 ! · · · ♡

— pairings: heizou, kazuha, dottore, itto x f!reader

— warnings: hickeys (obviously), heizou is a little shit (affectionate), suggestive content but pretty tame tbh, kazuha is a tits man i said what i said, dottore is a little bit (lotta bit) of a sadist, minor bloodplay (?) in dottore’s part, itto also nicks you but it’s an accident this time. this is not proofread btw EL O ELLLLL

— synopsis: how different genshin men like to mark you up.

— notes: technically a part 2 to what i posted on my old blog (found here!). i hope u guys like this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3. i may or may not have started losing steam around itto’s part so if it seems a little lackluster compared to the others, thats probably why and im sorry &lt;/3 i’ll do him justice one day.

THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG! MINORS DNI, PLEASE AND THANK YOU. &lt;3

✧˚ · . SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. ༉‧₊˚.

→ heizou is a playful lover.

→ he adores marking you up to let the rest of inazuma know just who you belong to.

→ can and will feign ignorance when you go to complain about the MULTIPLE markings blooming along the smooth expanse of your neck and collar.

→ “h-heizou, c’mon, you know it’s hard covering these up…” you murmur, lacing a hand through his soft locks as he grins lopsidedly against your collar. he responds by nipping at your sensitive skin, pulling a yelp from you.

→ as a response, you tug his hair back a little and the little groan he lets out sends heat straight between your legs. he grins even wider at you.

→ oh, heizou knows the effect he has on you. he knows how to play you so expertly, as if he were a pianist playing a masterpiece at a recital.

→ “pretty girl, i don’t want you to cover them up,” he hums, cupping your face with a hand. he strokes his thumb lovingly over your cheek. “all of inazuma should know you’re mine. i can’t have other men looking at you, right?”

→ your face heats up at his possessive words, pressing your face closer to his hand as if it’ll hide your flustered state from him. if anything, it does the opposite. he giggles and presses wet, open-mouthed kisses up your neck before he claims your lips with his.

→ maybe you would indulge him a little bit. maybe you’d try a little less harder on covering up the numerous markings littering your neck.

✧˚ · . KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. ༉‧₊˚.

→ kazuha prefers to leave hickeys in places only you two will ever see.

→ he doesn’t need the world to know the two of you are together. the quiet whisper of affection between lovers is more than enough for him.

→ that, and he thinks that it is much more intimate to have markings only the two of you know of.

→ “zu, that- ah! that tickles!” you gasp as he sucks a mark right by your navel, hands gripping the plush flesh of your hips as he grins up at you.

→ he kisses a trail up to your exposed breasts, trailing his hands up higher as he stares up at you with intense crimson eyes.

→ “would you rather i kiss you up here?” he murmurs, planting his lips on the sensitive skin of your chest. he sucks a mark right above where your bra covers you up from him, feeling your chest rumble as you let out soft noises of pleasure.

→ all the noises you made was like music to his ears, his incentive to keep going. “may i?” he asks, tucking his fingers under the band of your bra. you nod your head, but he waits until you verbally say, “kazuha, please.”

→ with a melodic hum, he unhooks the garment with practiced ease and goes right back to making the song he loves to hear.

✧˚ · . IL DOTTORE. ༉‧₊˚.

→ dottore is precise with how he marks you up.

→ it makes him feral, seeing you lying there below him, submissive and pliant just for him. letting him play with you as he pleases.

→ loves watching hickeys bloom across your skin, teasingly nipping at ones already prominent and sore just to hear you yelp.

→ every twitch, every sound you make, it burns into his brain. how could he ever forget anything about his beautiful little pet? marking you up so nicely for the other fatui to see. after all, they must know you belong to him and him only.

→ most the time, he’s careful with how hard he bites. we wouldn’t want to hurt you too much, now do we?

→ but occasionally, there’s a nagging in the back of his mind, telling him to do it, do it, you just taste so delicious. and on days when you act out, or days where you get on his nerves, whether you’re aware of it or not—he decides a little bit of punishment is in order.

→ so he gives in and bites down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, just hard enough to puncture your tender flesh with his canines, tearing a cry from your throat. his tongue laves over the wound immediately, his senses flooded with the copper tang of your blood. he grins maniacally up at you.

→ “it’s okay,” he soothes you in response to your teary eyes, pressing a kiss over the angered skin. “you know i would never do anything to actually harm you. it feels good now after all, doesn’t it, my pet?”

→ he knows that you’re clenching your thighs together. he knows that you’re a little bit of a masochist—he wouldn’t have it any other way. you were his perfect little darling pet.

✧˚ · . ARATAKI ITTO. ༉‧₊˚.

→ itto is another one of the playful lover types.

→ he’s a little worried he might nip you a little too hard with his teeth, but a little bit of reassurance from you goes a long way.

→ that, and there’s that feral oni urge that nags at him to mark you up so that everyone knows you’re his. of course, he loves it even more if you return the favor, letting you add to the many red markings that already adorn his skin.

→ the gang is never surprised when the two of you emerge from some dark alleyway with matching hickeys at this point.

→ “itto, itto, careful!” you gasp softly as his teeth leave pretty little indentions on the smooth skin of your shoulder, the man in question letting out a little yelp before kissing it quickly (and gently) in apology.

→ “sorry bunny, you just taste so sweet!” he mumbles, kissing your temple. you smile up at him with adoration in your eyes.

→ “s’ok, you know i’ve never minded,” you speak softly, combing a hand through his unruly hair. his chest rumbles with what suspiciously sounds like a purr. you grin widely.

→ with the amount of times he’s accidentally pricked your skin, you’re used to it by now. you would even dare venture to say that maybe it felt good. just a little bit.

→ he hefts you up in his arms suddenly and you let out a squeal of surprise, your legs locking around his waist as his hands cup your ass. you drape your arms over his big shoulders as he grins at you.

→ itto also happened to be an insatiable lover—it must’ve been the oni blood in him. you were in for a long night.

© rinneverse (2022). rbs and interactions are super appreciated !!

Kinktober day 7:

Breeding w/ Tighnari

Mentions of knotting (slight)

“That’s it, that’s it,” Tighnari’s hips were rutting against your already overstimulated cunt. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come under his skillful touch and ruthless cock.

“You are going to look so adorable with your belly swollen,” Tighnari muses again, whispering with grunts as he bench-pressed you even harder. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, akin with sweating and panting were the only thing you could here. You were getting fucked mindless.

“Yes— yes, Tighnari,” you managed to utter with soft gasps, tears pooling in your eyes with the sensation of how good it truly felt.

“I’m going to fill you up, baby. I’m going to fill you up until you can’t take it. Breed you full of my seed, and if— you let any of it escape? I’ll be disappointed. Disappointment brews punishments,” Tighnari lectured, stopping his cock for a moment, nestling it inside your spongy walls and feeling your tightening at his words.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Do not let my seed escape, yes? I believe you can do that,” Tighnari started moving again, leaning back slightly, his hands caressing your pelvis, crawling towards your lower back as he lifted you up from there, your pelvis in air, under his support.

You screamed out when he led another thrust in. It brushed against your sweet-spot, the pressure of the head of his cock churning your already filled hole led you to complete ecstasy. “AHHH!” You squealed, feeling the painful pleasure course through every single vein in your body.

“Sssh~” Tighnari cooed, keeping a pillow below your back, putting you back down and watching you arch beautifully for him. “God— you look so breathtaking,” he hissed, finding himself close to an orgasm again.

“Hold your legs up for me will you?” He ordered, undertones of affection always laced with them. You nodded, keeping your hands steady below your knees, spreading your legs as much as you can.

Tighnari’s lewd and feral gaze landed onto your slit, how it stretched up while he was still inside you. His thumb went in and pet your swollen clit; inticing another whine from you. “Come with me now, I want the future mommy to be filled with my litter,”

Tighnari tipped off the edge, groaning and almost whimpering as he felt his cock bulge into a knot. The confirmation of it being your loud screams. “Sssh~ sssh~ I know, I know it hurts but this way, you won’t worry about any of my seed seeping down, little one,”

Title: Damaged Goods.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x F. Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Sex Doll Au, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Themes of Past Abuse, and Slight Manipulation.

You really had to do something about his back.

You couldn’t imagine why you hadn’t gotten around to it already. There were more pressing issues, sure – when you’d first found Scaramouche, curled up in the alleyway behind a dive bar you’d never take him back to, he’d been missing his entire right arm below the elbow and his left ankle had been visibly beaten in with something very heavy and very powerful – but against all reason, his back had been the only thing to make you actually, physically cringe after you’d gotten him home and into your workshop. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he’d been caught in a fire, that someone had taken a blowtorch to the synthetic skin between his shoulder blades and the base of his spine and held it there until plastic melted into metal, until everything was charred enough to blackened, but not so burnt as to damage any of the vital mechanisms underneath. It’d take a few hours, but it wouldn’t be very hard, even if he’d pout for a while when you told him he’d have to be powered off for the repair. You had the right tools for it, but you'd need to order—

A mouth latched onto the inside of your thigh, a cold tongue lapping over your skin before two pointed teeth found their mark, biting down with a purposeful kind of harshness. You hissed, straightening your back, your hand shooting to his head and your fingers tangling themselves in his hair, dragging him away from you. There was a sharp whine of protest, followed by a disappointed groan, but you tried not to pay it any mind. “Scara?”

He blinked slowly, tilted his head back to lean into your palm. Despite that, his tone was snipped, hostile, like you'd been the one to hide yourself away underneath his worktable and bite at his legs while he was trying to work. “What do you want?”

“I thought we agreed that we were just spending time together, today.” Calm, composed, even. Not overly soft, but not too strict, either, lest he decide that he'd rather spend the day looking for expensive things to break. “No playing in the workshop, remember? It’s too dangerous.”

It wasn’t a bad excuse. The project you were currently working on – a pair of color-changing eyes for a very spoiled Ayato – wasn’t incredibly demanding, but you didn’t want him to start to think that a room full of very sharp, very temperamental tools was a good place to eat you out. Still, Scaramouche scoffed, rolling his eyes. Either unconvinced, or too apathetic towards his own safety to really care. “Don’t talk to me like that,” He muttered, shifting on his knees. You’d been tinkering with his bad ankle earlier, and his foot was still hanging loosely from his calf, only connected by a few strands of braided wiring. You’d have to reattach it later on, after smoothing out a few dents in his endoskeleton. He said you didn’t have to, that it was all superficial, but he’d been starting to limp, and as a mechanic, you couldn’t leave your own android in such a state of disrepair. “I’m not a dog. Just say you don’t want me to bother you.”

“It’s not like that.” It genuinely wasn’t. When he wasn’t sulking or sucking hickeys into whatever you gave him access to, he was good company, a good assistant, and you liked having a second pair of hands to go over your work – even if he always slipped in a snide comment about how inelegant the androids you repaired were when compared to his craftsmanship. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. When you’re fixed up, we’ll see, but right now…”

You trailed off, doing your best to shrug apologetically. He only scowled, looked away, dropped low enough to rest his cheek against your thigh in a way that (in your own defense) wasn’t totally unlike a kicked puppy. “You don’t want me.”

Pursing your lips, you pushed yourself away from your worktable, giving him that much more room to lean into you, to lay his head in your lap as you carded your fingers through his hair. “Look, Scara,” You started, and when he didn’t cut you off or try to walk away, “What do you want to do?”

His answer was short, predictable. “Make you happy.”

Meaning, in his vocabulary, make you cum. Considering his position, you could probably guess how he planned to do it, too.

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

With a sigh, you let your head lull to the side, dropping your hand to the back of his neck. “Once,” You said, with as much emphasis you can manage. “And then I need to get back to—”

He didn’t wait for you to finish, didn’t even give you a chance to. In a fraction of a second, your shorts were pulled off, your panties pushed to the side, and his tongue buried in your cunt, pushing hasty, sloppy patterns into your slit. You could feel his hands wrap around your thighs, a row of blunt nails digging harshly into soft flesh, and you winced, but didn’t pull away, didn’t tell him to stop and loosen up. He was clearly feeling insecure, even if you couldn’t tell exactly why. The least you could do was let him get a little rough.

Instead of correcting him, you tried to focus on his lips sealing around your clit, sucking just harshly enough to send a spike of sudden, searing electricity down your spine before his eagerness won over, before he went back to fucking his tongue into you in short, shallow thrusts. He didn’t have to breathe, an underappreciated courtesy of not being built with lungs, but you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at his neediness, at just how eager he seemed to bury himself inside of you as deeply as he possibly could. His memory card had been wiped twice over, every databank you had access to completely cleared, but still, you couldn’t help but think of it as a holdover, something as deeply ingrained into him as the burn scars painted across his back - deeper, even. That damage, you couldn't smooth over with a few hours of work and spare parts.

“Easy, now,” You mumbled, your voice low but clearly audible. If he heard you, though, he wasn't paying attention, didn’t make any effort to actually listen. If anything, his movements only grew more intense, his tongue curling against your walls as he moaned – the reverberation drawing a sharp, airy gasp out of you. You’d tested other companion droids before, tried everything from Capitano to Venti, but Scaramouche was the first android who’d ever genuinely needed to get you off – or, at least, that first who was able to put on a good enough act to make it seem that way. It was worse when you actually had time to let him fuck you, when you could give him the hours he needed to rut into your pussy until his stores were empty and his battery was nearly dead, until you were too exhausted and too overstimulated to tell him to stop before he managed to exacerbate any of the injuries you had yet to patch up. He liked being the center of your attention, liked being close to you. It seemed like he thought, in his own words, 'making you happy' was the best way to accomplish that.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t the way an android was supposed to function. You knew that his behavior was irrational, that he didn’t listen to direct orders, that no companion droid should ever be so stubborn, so eager to soak in your affection while simultaneously doing whatever he could to deflect it. You knew that, if it was one of your clients, you’d suggest that they contact Teyvat's resources, that they either return their droid immediately or power them down indefinitely. You knew that he was a little too manic, and a little too frantic, and...

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. Not really. Not when it came to your droid, at least. Not when it came to your Scaramouche.

He nuzzled further into you, his nose grinding against your clit, and you clenched your eyes shut, lurching forward and taking up his hair, again, half as a reward and half as a means of keeping him as close as you possibly could. Not that he needed your help. With another squeeze to your thighs, another pitchy moan, you were crying out, coming undone on his tongue minutes after he decided he needed you to. You let him nurse you through it, only tugging him away when the first pangs of overstimulation started to set in. He started to whine, to protest, but bit his tongue, his dignity winning out over his desperation. That was something you liked about Scaramouche. He was cute when he couldn’t decide what he really wanted.

You smiled, tapped your thigh, and without hesitation, he clambered into your lap, only momentarily fazed by the fact that he was still missing a foot. You could see his flushed cheeks as he straddled your waist, feel his cock pressing into your stomach, but he didn’t complain, didn’t say a word as he wrapped his arms around your neck, burying his face in your chest. You’d have to pry him away eventually, get him to sit still just long enough for you to finish his ankle, but that could wait.

Like his back - like everything about Scaramouche - you were sure it'd be fine if you waited just a little bit longer.

Top 5 yan!Genshin men that would commit murder to off a rival or a threat to their darling? Ironically, I haven't come across much... murder in a lot of yandere imagines despite them being-- well, /yandere/, which tend to be famous for killing, frankly.

I think it’s partially due to the greater view of the ‘yandere’ concept evolving. Yes, the murder is still there, but yanderes aren’t defined by the crimes they commit, but by the love they feel towards their Darling that makes them commit those crimes. And, frankly, the whole ‘I will murder everyone in your life so that you’ll love only me’ schtick gets boring after you read the same thing over and over. Like, there are other crimes besides murder.

Anyway, philosophical tangents aside, let’s get back to what we’re actually here for.

Diluc is fiercely protective and will not hesitate to get his hands dirty if he needs to keep you safe. Doesn’t matter if they’re Fatui, some drunkard who got a little too handsy, or even someone he used to be close to. As long as not a hair on your head is out of place, he can relax.

Scaramouche does not see the value in the life of an individual human. Their lifespan is so short and whatever power they have is weak. You are the only one in his eyes that matters.

Childe is notorious for his bloodlust and desire for a good fight. So, he’ll let his victim struggle a bit, build up the courage - or frustration - needed to lash back, only to stop toying with them and cut them down with one last strike.

Fakebedo. Do I even need to explain this one? He literally went after his own brother. What makes you think he’d hesitate to kill some random schmuck who is getting a little too close to you to his liking?

Abyss Prince Aether does not care for the current state of this world. He has a divine war to win, so what’s the loss of one more life? The needs of the many outweigh the needs of one filthy mongrel.