#what Was That, Darling? What Did You Call Me?

― YANDERE! GENSHIN ACADEMY AU. pt one | two | three | four

⇢ scaramouche, thoma, arataki itto, gorou / gn! reader

introducing! this academy has plenty of cultures mashing together, and what would it be without inazuma? hailing from the land of eternity, three eccentric characters join their fellow inazuman kazuha as well as your mentally unstable harem to fight for your heart. some of them… don’t exactly mesh well, but their goal for your heart to be theirs eternally are the same!

warning! yandere, obsessive & possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, delusional behavior, scaramouche is here do i really need to explain it to u, mentions of violence, brief mention of collaring 

author’s note! i refuse to make scara anything else but the dirty lil grime boy that he is. he goes absolutely fucking feral, that man. killed off my teppei. lil shit im gonna punt u so hard once u become playable. Make sure u die next to signora and childe you fuckin shit. /holds up this 4’11 sonovabitch/ /immediately chucks him into the pacific/ mihoyo if his voicelines aren’t him cussing out traveler and bitching about every little thing im suing for false advertisement

— SADISTIC TYPE. scaramouche | 散兵

[ “hmph, lowly little thing. and what do you think you’re staring at?” ]

⇢ scara (derogatory). no redeeming qualities. pure fucking evil. he’s been a constant thorn in your side ever since you entered the academy and has been that way since forever. what sort of prestigious academy allows a no-name rat like you to enter, hm? it takes all of your willpower to not throw a punch at his face.

⇢ he’s not arrogant for nothing. although the two of you are in the same year, he’s completely in another level of his own. he can throw down the strongest of people in your school, is the top student in your level, plays multiple traditional instruments, and has abilities super-fucking-incomprehensible that you stop to think if he really is human. if only he’d keep his mouth shut, then his graded behavior wouldn’t drag him down.

⇢ when you’re seatmates… god, it’s just pure torture. scaramouche doesn’t need to listen to whatever these plebeian teachers have to offer, but he needs the attendance or else his big sisters ei and makoto will berate him at home and he’s too tired to put up with their shit. he likes poking you with the sharp end of his compass, or if long enough, will tug on your hair to annoy you. actually fuck that, he will pull on your hair no matter what the length.

⇢ if you talk back, archons, you’re in for a time. there is nothing he hates more than being embarrassed. he’s already had enough of being compared to with his third-year sisters who are oh so divine and elegant and charming and fucking bullshit. makoto he can slightly put up with, but ei? oh how he’d love to see her destroyed. everything he’s worked so hard for was natural talent for ei, and every time he had caught up to her she ascended levels he thought was unreachable. but destroying her was too big of a plan, so you’re here, under his hands, as his little stress ball.

⇢ how delightful :) he just barges into your home unannounced, playing the part of an agreeable young man and wearing a pleasant smile on his lips for your family. he watches in quiet amusement as you squirm uncomfortably on the sofa while they fawn over your supposed ‘boyfriend’ and how you shouldn’t let such a handsome man go. once the two of you are alone in your bedroom, the smug smirk on his face is hard to miss.

⇢ “you hear that?” he croons, taking your hands in his and pressing a kiss against your knuckles, as if mocking you with his gentlemanly play. “they say i’m your boyfriend.” the way he manhandles you next, how he makes you crawl and tug you by your collar, is so far from the act he was playing, but he still smiled at you innocently as he ground the heel of your shoe into your stomach.

⇢ what a cute little toy you are, really.

[ “now, now, no need to be so frustrated. you should be charmed to be mistaken as my lover.” ]

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#ORGASM FEARS !

;feat. xiao, ayato, thoma, + gorou / afab!reader

;contents. insecurities, wet&messy, good bf content, hurt/comfort if u squint <3, specific warnings on individual parts

｡˚ a/n. contrived from this abomination and also for @vyndior <3

✣ all characters presumed to be 18+

୨୧ minors do not interact. reblogs/comments appreciated!

requests are open!

୭ XIAO

cw: punishment, prone bone position hehe, wet&messy, squirting, mean!xiao

xiao is finicky + everyone knows that + sometimes it feels like you’re one step away from setting him off + but he also doesn’t really know much about humans + so you always are careful with him, not wanting to anger him or confuse him + you’re especially unsure how he’ll react if you squirted ): + will he think u peed on him??? u don’t think u could handle that embarrassment + what if he hates the mess???? you’d feel so bad !!!! + so you resolve yourself to faking it + and thankfully he’s none the wiser + for a while at least….

“Why did you lie to me?” he asks, hand roughly tangled in your hair, using the grip to press your face against the mattress, “did you think I wouldn’t notice? Did you think I was an idiot?”

“N-No!” you squeal, voice breaking when he meanly snaps his hips forward, thick head of his cock prodding against the gummy spot near your cervix, “I-It’s not that, Xiao!”

“Then what is it? Hm?” he hisses, “Let me hear your excuses.”

“Xiao!” you sob, legs kicking up from underneath him, where you sits to pin you down against the bed, “W-Wait! I-“

“I’m waiting,” he snaps, dragging his hips back before rolling them forward, once again sheathing his length deep within your gushing cunt, “Tell me.”

“I-I’ll make a mess!” your voice is embarrassingly pitchy the closer you get to your high.

“And?” he grunts, hips never even hesitating, “You always make a fucking mess, human. You are right now.”

You feel your cheeks burn hot in embarrassment at his words. But you know he’s not lying. You can hear the slick sounds of your own cunt being fucked and can feel the way you’re dripping all over yourself and him.

You do your best to lift your hips, grinding back against his thrusts. Your eyes roll back in your head and you cry out his name as the pleasure grows and grows.

“I-I’m close!” you squeal, mindlessly reaching back to press against his hips as if that’ll stop his mind-numbing movements, “Xiao! Please!”

“Move your hand,” he snaps, grabbing your wrist in his hand only to use it for leverage to fuck you even harder, “Take it and show me how you make a mess.”

His words ignite something in you and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him. He doesn’t stop or pause, instead he speeds up his pace. You’re squealing and crying out as your high peaks.

You wail, drool slipping down your chin, helpless to do anything as he fucks you through your orgasm. It crests and intensifies until you’re gushing all over him. You hear him curse before his own body slumps over yours, trembling and wrapping himself around you from his own orgasm.

“Don’t lie to me again, human,” he whispers, slowly rutting his hips again, “I will find out.”

୭ AYATO

cw: clit play, “lord”!ayato, shy!reader

you’ve always cum so hard + even the simplest of touches on your clit are enough to send you into body-shaking, twitching orgasms + and it’s almost embarrassing + you worry about how your body reacts, the sounds you make, the faces you make + and you worry about what ayato will think + maybe he’ll think you’re faking it or he’ll just think it’s ridiculous that u get so dumb over nothing ): + so you’re always tense and anxious + but ayato is more than determined to get you to relax with him <3

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can i order a fluffy smutty yandere male housewife x CEO darling?

cw. delusion, sexual themes, surveillance, yandere themes

is a dog in human form. he could be seen more as your caretaker rather than your partner. with the way he does everything and anything for you. gently, though reluctantly, wakes you on weekdays for your work. prepares meals and drinks for you, all of them containing his saliva and other fluids of his. cleans your room, not before drowning his senses in your smell, this usually results in him lying belly down on your side of the bed with his face smushed against your pillow as his hands work his member. spending the day cleaning the house, the clothes, redoing certain areas that are in need of organising and all the while he’ll do that while listening to you going about your day through the hearing device stitched in your clothes.

if he has spare time, he’ll reward himself by making a small lunch while watching recent tapes that he’s recorded of the two of you lovemaking. when your day of working is done, you’re greeted by a table full of your favourite meals, your husband sitting and happily watching you eat his food. don’t forget to compliment his food and give him a headpat, or else he’ll delude himself into thinking you had eaten somewhere else, by the hands of another, and you enjoyed theirs more than his.

your househusband is a very…devoted man. easily jealous of anyone who speaks to you, which is why the hearing device comes in handy. he knows he can trust you, you’ve proven it to him multiple times without your knowing. but those revolting fiends that you are forced to deal with has his body fuming with anger. you returning home is one of his highlights of his days, he becomes absolutely bubbly and doting, sticking to you like gum that won’t come off no matter how hard you try. and his most favourite thing of all, the one thing he looks most forward to, is your reward for his good work. inviting him to love all over your body, to take care of your tired body, let him work the stress off from work. allow him to lick and clean you before dirtying you all over, inside and out. he’ll beg and whine throughout, good thing he has a new tape to listen to on his free time now.

Pacing Game [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Title: Pacing Game [Yandere Scaramouche x Reader]

Synopsis: You’re due to give birth any day now, and you’ve never been so terrified. 

Word Count: 2524

Notes: Yandere, arranged marriage, pregnant afab reader, mentions of physical roughness, non-graphic childbirth descriptions

Your husband, the great and feared Sixth Harbringer, has never been terribly affectionate. As if that would surprise anyone, not that you have anyone you could tell this to; perhaps the gaggle of prim attendants who are frequently at your side, but no–they’re his crows, little spies that will flutter to this side the moment you say anything worth repeating.

It’s the truth, however. He’s never been one to plant soft kisses on your forehead in the morning or wax on about how the beauty of the most stunning blossoms were nothing compared to your smile. He has never told you he loves you, though you’re certain that he wants you–bruised wrists and bruised lips and your currently swollen belly can attest to that.

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I would sell my left kidney to have some mafia boss Venti content

content warning: yandere, possessive behaviour, unequal power dynamic. reader disrection is advised.

Okay, I've had this thought before! Because Venti's definitely the one who seems super happy-go-lucky—the type to murder someone in cold blood, but smiling as though he were playing a game, humming all the while a cheerful tune under his breath. The type to use extremely thin blades hidden away everywhere on his body in secret pockets no one knows. He's short, but he’s earned a reputation. The throwing-knife, stabby kind. And he likes to make his toys sing.

So how I imagine the backstory is that you’re an investigator that’s managed to worm your way into the family, working right under the boss himself—the same boss that’s been so unknown to your department, who’s so mysterious that no-one even knew their name, outside of the top family members.

How it begins is this: in the city of Tevyat, there are seven prominent groups in the underground. You've been sent on a mission to infiltrate the ones that call themselves Mondstadt, the so-called freedom fighters (though fighting for what freedom, you’re not sure). How you actually get in though, is far from the usual orthodox ways afforded to investigators of working their ways up to meeting the leaders. The higher-ups of the organization were exclusive and hidden, the boss of the family even moreso.

But of all the bosses in Teyvat—archons, the populace calls them, since they’re similar to magistrates in that they set down the unspoken laws of the underground—the Mondstadt archon is the most unknown one. In fact, there had been rumours he’d already been killed, or stuck in a coma, or some other tragic event. The head of the Mondstadt group is now Jean, who’s inherited it from the old guard composed of people like Varka, but she’s not the archon, which tells you that the Mondstadt archon hasn’t been killed at all. Not if the title was still used on some hidden piece no one knew. It seems that the archon’s just extremely laissez-faire in the governing of his group.

Unknown this archon may be, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, you end up saving someone with connections to him. Not that you were aware; you merely thought he was an eccentric singer. His name is Venti, and you save him from a cat, of all things, the little kitten circling the frightened man who keeps sneezing and shooing it away. My saviour, he positively sings it when he inspects you up and down after the offending kitten has been safely given back to its own (a little girl in red, who has quite an explosive imagination). There’s this gleam in his teal eyes when he calls your name, a sure sign of a mischievous trickster. That should have been the first sign. But you suspect nothing of his darker roots, taken in by his boyishly handsome looks. 

You still think he’s a normal civilian, so when Venti insists on rewarding you for your bravery (it shall be sung in ballads, he says with a smirk) by bringing you to a fancy dinner party as his guest, you accept reluctantly. Not because you want to go, but more so because this man sticks around you like sticky rice, refusing to let himself from your side even as you’re making your investigations. when you tell him you’re busy with matters. The excuse was that you’re interested in joining the Mondstadters, and that’s when his eyes twinkle. “Oh? Why would you want to associate with a bunch of thugs?”

“I think their philosophy is interesting,” you tell him half-truths, something about seeking power and admiring the Mondstadt archon and freedom in joining their group. If it could even be called freedom, how many rules and regulations the families set down in order to prevent territory wars.

“I see!” Venti claps his hands together. “Maybe you’ll find the party useful then! It has quite a number of notable attendants. Perhaps their connections will help you.”

“Notable? You mean like celebrities?”

“…you could say that!” Venti says while laughing.

Strangely enough, even though Venti’s broke—you’ve seen the poor state of his wallet, nary a penny to his name—he manages to send you this expensive suit set, complete with this little brooch at the lapel, emerald gem pinned, a pattern of the wind etched onto it. You don’t think much of it, much more aghast at the fact that Venti was able to afford this item—he could barely pay for his drinks whenever he dragged you to the bar with him, and even then, you paid for him half the time. The other half of the time consists of Venti putting the drinks on his tab and getting scolded for it by the red-haired bartender. So shocked were you, you don’t even ponder how it is that he knew where you lived. After moving to a new location because of this assignment, you’ve never told anybody your new home.

You attend the party. Grasping at straws, because the secrets of the boss were so highly protected, you sigh and make yourself decent enough to go. When you hand in the invitation, the guards at the front widening their eyes at the chicken-scratch of Venti’s writing, they let you in without a fuss, even bowing profusely at you as you step through the door. Rich people are weird, and it seems like the people they hire are even weirder, you think absentmindedly as you wander around the halls of this luxurious mansion. People give you a wide berth, occasionally glancing at the emerald gem you keep touching in some semblance of comfort at your lapel. 

It’s when you try to get to one of the break rooms to rest your feet that you finally understand what Venti meant when he said there may be “prominent figures”. Because the person you almost knock over is the acting boss of the family, Jean.

She’s there, apologizing so softly, so politely, as you try to keep yourself from showing any of your shock on your face, your heart about to leap out of your mouth, beating so violently against your ribcage you think you may be ill. That’s when Venti pops in, that disarming smile, as always, present on his face. He’s surely laughing on the inside at your thoughts right now, racing so fast you struggle to keep up.

“So that’s your person, sir,’ Jean says, as Venti wraps his arm around your neck in a friendly hold—friendly only to him though, because you were finally beginning to understand. “You should keep a better watch. In this place… you never know who could take advantage.”

His.. person? Sir? The horror of the situation finally dawns itself on you, puzzle pieces sliding into place, as Venti nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck—an intimate gesture you’d gotten used to, having known him for months now, but only now does it make your mouth dry. Not with anticipation, no, but a deep unsettling dread that lodges itself in your throat. 

“It’s okay,” Venti says to Jean, the smile never leaving his face. His eyes shift to the brooch at your lapel, and his arm lets your neck go, sliding around your waist instead, pulling you toward him. “Everyone we’ve invited should know better than to displease the archon of Mondstadt, don’t you think? Not if they don’t want to get a knife in their eyes, I’d think. I do enjoy the loudness of their screams though.”

Jean shrugs, nonplussed at his violent words. “Whatever you say, sir. I’ll be going now. The guests will need to be watched extensively, after all.”

You watch her leave, and finally you open your mouth.

“What just… No, who are you?” 

Venti grins. “You said you wanted to join us, didn’t you?” His grip around your waist gets tighter, and you’re acutely aware that despite his slight form, he’s strong. Too strong for you to do anything about his touch, how his fingers are tapping on your hip bone a rhythm to an unknown song. “As your new boss, I must say…”

He leans into your ear, warm breath caressing the shell of your ears, voice sing-song with a smug satisfaction, “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

You swallow. You hadn’t even agreed to joining—but isn’t this what you’ve been working toward? So you smile weakly, say, “Likewise,” and pretend that his eyes are not sparkling at how your full attention is on him. Pretend that the kiss he presses to your cheek is just a friendly gesture—and not a mark of possession, like the one he’s pinned to the lapel of your suit, like the bruises you’ll find on your neck in the future, when Venti makes you sing like he’s always wanted.

"KUNIKUZUSHI! Don't you dare ignore me, I don't care if your henchmen hear me yelling!"

notes: yandere, forced marriage, some misogny and classism

You would never claim that your husband was known for his delicacy, yet the word delicate is what comes to mind as his entire being immediately pivots and begins stepping towards you in one fluid, horribly graceful motion. His steps are light; almost a mimicry of ordinary steps, doll-like, and if it weren’t for the bells on his hat, no one would hear him coming. You aren’t the only one who has been surprised on occasion by his sudden appearances.

Yet the delicacy of his movements are utterly betrayed by the ugly frown twisted on his beautiful face. You only have the luxury of focusing on it for a few moments before he grips the collar of your dressing gown and yanks you toward him in one harsh, swift movement.

“Have you lost your senses, woman?” The words are hissed low. “I did not give you my name so you could shriek it out like some ragged pauper screaming at her chickens.”

Your lips press together in a grim line. Oh, yes, you were used to his insults about your heritage, all wrapped in his unfortunate desire to present you to the world--but mostly to himself--as some sort of ethereal noblewoman’s wife. All quiet grace and charm.

Yet it wasn’t the life you were born into, nor did such lofty manners come easily to you. They seemed rather pointless at times, especially since you eventually realized that he liked you best when you were at ease in private, eager to engage with him on a more intimate level than any noblewoman would ordinarily do for her dear husband. It was all a show, one you both put on to different degrees.

“Yet you did give me your name to use,” and the small dip of your head as you speak is both a mockery of the manners he’s instilled in you and a gesture ingrained through months of tedious, irritating training. “And I saw fit to use it thus, since I was speaking to you as my husband, and not my lord.”

“Am I not both?” He muses, and his voice is tight, but the fingers gripping the fabric of your gown loosen anyway. “You certainly know better than to raise your voice to your lord and husband. Are you so ill-trained?” He lifts your chin with a finger, chiding, but there’s a bit of warm teasing in his voice that contrasts against the  coolness of his skin.

You know enough about Scaramouche to know that the situation is on its way to defusing significantly, if not entirely, and you know exactly how to present yourself to soothe the electric irritation you’ve sparked with your outburst.

You lean your chin forward, guiding him to take your face in his hand, and he does. Your eyelashes flutter and you look at him with as much pleading as you can summon.

“Will you answer the question I asked, then, instead of leaving me without another word?” And if your tone becomes softer, if your voice is tinged with something akin to neediness and loneliness, it’s not entirely for show. “Please, my lord, my husband…” 

You wait, for effect, before dealing your finishing blow in a tone far sweeter than the one you used to keep him here earlier. “Kunikuzushi?”

He regards you with eyes that have taken in every inch of your body a thousand times. Sometimes you wonder if he has the power to read minds or to see inside souls. You don’t ask, because the answer might just frighten you.

“All right. We’ll pass through your village once. I expect there to be tributes. And don’t imagine that you’ll be staying for more than an hour or so.”

Your smile is far more gracious than the limitations he’s placed on you, but you don’t mind. Perhaps you can talk him into more later.

“Thank you, my lord.”

He gives your chin a harsh squeeze before letting it drop.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing. I’m not a fool. I agreed only to spare myself more of your shrewish behavior.”

“Of course, husband,” you say, watching him leave.

He is not a fool, it’s true. But neither are you.

Tighnari -> breeding

content: nsfw, breeding kink, praise, mentions of pregnancy and creampies, Tighnari has a knot | reblogs & comments appreciated!

~0,7k words | kinktober masterlist

Tighnari was a gentle lover. 

He was attentive and kind, always aware of what exactly you needed when you needed it; the pace with which he fucked you with was usually slow and deep. Sensual. 

He liked to press his lips just below your jaw whenever he pushed into you, pressing loving kisses to your skin until he had bottomed out, and he made sure to make you cum at least once before he took you properly. 

He had each of your preferences memorised perfectly; he knew whether you preferred him to lick or suck at your clit, whether you enjoyed having your nipples played with or not, and he never failed to make you absolutely lose your mind in pleasure, all your muscles turning to jelly. 

Tighnari was a gentle lover, until he suddenly wasn't. 

Unaware, dare you say naïve, as you were, you hadn't known about ruts, though they appeared to be quite a big deal if the way Tighnari was currently pounding into you was anything to go by. 

His narrow hips slapped against your own, his nails were digging into the soft skin of your waist and you cried out sharply at a particularly hard thrust. 

Your back arched off the bed, your eyes fluttered closed, and, God, you were almost sure that the head of Tighnari's dick was hitting against your cervix with how deep he was, with how full you felt. 

“So good for me, aren't you?” His voice was raspy, lower than usual, and it sent a shiver up your spine. “God, you feel fucking perfect around me, so hot and tight. You're such a good girl.” 

The praise earned him a needy moan from you, the noise high-pitched, and you couldn't help but clench around him. The sudden tightness caused both of you to groan. 

“You're so pretty like this.” Tighnari's breath was warm against your neck; suddenly, he reached down to feather his thumb over your clit, and you whined, the noise breathy. “Gorgeous, really. And you'll be even more stunning after I've filled you up.”

Without even meaning to, you tightened around him, wet walls pulsing as heat rose to your cheeks because of words. This really wasn't something you had ever imagined but, suddenly, you found yourself unable to think of anything but him filling you, getting you pregnant. 

Tighnari's chuckle had a mocking tone to it. “Oh? Seems you liked that, didn't you? Is that what you want, love?” A grunt as he pushed into you again. “For me to fill you up until you're dripping with my cum? For me to breed you?” 

You whined in response, the noise utterly needy. Sweat dripped down your neck, arousal coiled heavily in your abdomen, and everything felt so damn hot — your clit was throbbing, your lips open as more high-pitched sounds fell from them. “Please—” 

“So you do?” Tighnari huffed out a laugh, though his grip on your hips tightened. His next thrust had you all but keening; your sight blurred when, suddenly, your orgasm crashed over you without a warning. The constant stimulation of your clit was overwhelming. “That's cute, darling. I'll just do that then.” 

Pain and pleasure mashed together into one confusing emotion as Tighnari kept fucking you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting; you whimpered pathetically as your wet walls pulsed around his cock, all but sucking him in despite the dull ache in your abdomen.

“Please”, you eventually choked out, though forming coherent words seemed like a herculean task right now, “Please, Tighnari, fuck—, want you to knock me up, please.” 

You moaned as your words made his dick twitch inside of you, and your thighs trembled when liquid warmth filled you up moments later, his dick growing in width and, oh—, the sensation of your cunt being stretched even wider was overwhelming, indescribable, and tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it.

“Ah. I forgot to tell you about the knot, didn't I?” Tighnari's smirk was cheeky, his ears twitching. You merely whimpered in response. “Just be glad for the brief break you're getting. Once it goes down, I'll take you again and again.” 

Your cheeks seemed to grow impossibly more hot as he leaned down, green eyes sparkling with mirth. “After all, we want to make sure it really takes, right? We'll have to go for quite some more rounds if you really want to end up pregnant. But don't you worry, love. I'll breed you properly.” 

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final post before mama cloud goes night night n has a little fun <3

cw: breeding, oviposition, hybrids, fem bodied reader

more hybrids though. bunny boys, cow/bull boys, harpies/birdboys, nagas, you name it.

but this time they're all subs that whine about wanting to be the top during their impending rutting season.

your sweet bull is so used to letting your sweet, soft body ride him while he holds his hands on your hips n cries moaning about how good you feel on and around him. he misses the weight on him while he tries his best to hold your hips up like you told him too :(

his instincts are telling him to fuck you full of his calf but how??? he's so confused and embarrassed please help him.

bunny. boys. he's crying so hard while fucking you from behind, his lil tail twitching and his massive ears flopping and dragging against you both while he's jackhammering your warm hole like you'll run away. he's mumbling nonsense, begging you to keep you legs spread so he can lean over you n pump you full of his kits, asking you how big of a family you want with him, telling you he'll be so good at protecting your little family.

looping his arms around your plush form he's still crying n begging, overstimulating himself as he cums for the nth time with no signs of stopping.

aww your sweet bird boy is another one that has no idea what he's supposed to do. he spent weeks building the nest for you two and now his hormones are running wild. one moment he's preening your hair n the next he's got you bent over a mound of soft pillows, claws digging into your flesh to hold you still while trying to fill you with his eggs.

his feathers are all fluffed up and messy and he refuses to release you from a hug, his chest to your back, and his cock buried in your pussy.

arguably nagas are the best and worst. he's got you wrapped up in his long scaly tail, holding you on your belly just tight enough to keep you from escaping his rapid thrusts.

he knows it's a tight fit, and he's moaning apologies with what little sanity he has left as he forces both his thick cocks in your warm hole. his hands roaming over your belly can feel the bulges of his ribbed cocks and it makes him only want to fuck you harder, which he does while begging for your permission to cum inside

he promises not to bite you too hard! he'll be so good for the rest of his rut!! just please please please let him cum inside!!!

hhhh hybrids got me ready to act a fool on here- subby boys that beg while topping are my fucking kryptonite- ☁️

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kinktober day 11

Aphrodisiacs w/ Albedo:

albedo sat in front of you, observing how you shivered, pressing your thighs together and panting heavy breaths. he quickly took his notes out and wrote, speaking out gently. “heavy panting, pressed thighs,”

“albedo- please,” you whimpered, watching his eyes shot up to you, how your panties were now wet and dirty, nipples perked up as the aphrodisiacs took effect.

“does it hurt?” albedo asked you softly, watching you deny, shaking your head no. “good,” he mumbled again, writing another few lines on his notes.

after 20 minutes or so, you were gritting your teeth, since albedo didn’t allow you to touch yourself. your swollen clit was needy for attention. “albedo— just fuck me for archon’s sake,” you whined. squirming in impatience and the intense need building up inside you.

“no need to bring the archons here,” he chuckled gently, writing another note of your reaction and keeping the notebook aside. “it’s good that you agreed to be my little muse in this experiment,” he cooed, removing your panties and watching the slick covered all over in your cunt.

“that’s— beautiful,” his eyes shamelessly fixated on your throbbing hole and looked into your eyes. “does clenching around nothing gives you some relief?” you looked at him, squinting your eyes with a pout. “yeah…” you knew his alchemist ass needed your inputs anyway.

he leaned in, kissing your throbbing cunt softly, swirling the wet muscle of his warm tongue around it and lapping all your juices. “what a wonder, you taste the same,” he murmured, sucking onto your clit and making you scream out in esctacy. he dug out a shaking orgasm from you in mere seconds, riding it out and extending it with soft, rhythmic strokes of his tongue.

“good girl,” he cooed, while your hands were wrapped in his blonde hair, pushing him deeper, feeling his nose nudge against your slit.

“more… wan’ more…” you mewled, “not enough— this isn’t enough!” tears of frustration quickly clouded your momentary relaxation of the orgasm.

“and you will get enough, sweetheart. no; scratch that, you will get more than enough. as a reward for taking a part in my experiment, and being so, so good for me,”

albedo began lapping onto your cunt again. hearing all your whimpers, moans, screams and praising you all the way until both you and him will be satisfied. a long, long night ahead it seemed ;)