˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino

˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino
˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino
˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino
˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino
˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino

˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ arlecchino

You are a ballerina. In the age of advanced technologies that develop faster and more realistically every day, you are afraid of becoming just a shadow of these technologies..

✧ warnings — NSFW. hurt/comfort, fem ! ballerina ! reader , gentle sex, romance, Arlecchino my husband. ✧ minors & non nb/wlw do not interact. !! ✧ a/n — I thought about the backstory of the fic for a long time, because I didn't want to write nsfw just like that lol, this is the first time I'm writing to a girl on my account, I mostly only wrote to boys..😅😅 (Arlecchino step on me)

˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino

You are standing on a small stage. You are wearing a white ballet skirt. A little fluffy, covered in detailed patterns, a little sparkling in the dark, gloomy little performance hall.

There are people sitting in the chairs, all dressed in the latest fashion, and somewhere above, a couple of important Fontaine officials are sitting, looking down on you like hawks at their next victim. And you dance, dance and dance like a white swan on the lake, your movements as precise as they are elegant.

And you are scared. Sweat runs down your back, making the fabric of your dress unpleasantly sticky and wet. It is stuffy, your head is spinning from the music, and if you look into the distance, it seems as if the whole space is shimmering.

.. And the music ends.. You hear applause.

You breathe heavily, trying to hide it. You stand up straighter, arching your back almost to the point of crunching, and bow. But when you straighten up, you understand that people are not looking at you. And opposite you, there, on the other side of the stage, is a robot. Without heavy clothes, without makeup that hides almost all the flaws of the face. Without ballet shoes shoes..

..Without a face that needs to be constantly controlled. Without eyes that can look into the abyss of feelings, if only you look into them in response..Without a heart.

The robot opposite you is singing a melody for your own performance. People surround this robot, looking at the miracle of mechanics with delight and childish spontaneous curiosity. They applaud, praise the creator of the robot and Fontaine's new policy regarding technological progress.

And you stand right in front of this crowd on a huge stage, in a belle skirt and ballet shoes. You see these people. Who applaud some robot, they listen to a mechanical repetition of how someone sang in the past. A repetition devoid of feelings and sincerity. A repetition set by some algorithm of numbers of a simple code - "one" - "zero" - "one" And so on - to infinity

And you Dance, stand. Dance, stand. And so on - to infinity.

You remember how a few years ago everything was different. Children loved to watch your performance, and people in the big theater did not take their eyes off you and looked at you with delight. You try not to look in the direction where the robot is standing and there are people who with trepidation and admiration surround this insensitive and heartless robot. When all the people left the hall, leaving you alone in this space..

You shudder.

You hear the only sound of applause very close, you turn your head to the side. A woman is looking at you and applauding, it seems, at you, and not at all at the robot. She is looking you straight in the eyes. Her smile is sincere. The woman's eyes are two strokes of scarlet, which are permanently burned into your retina.

She is tall, slightly taller than you. Slender, her waist is very thin. The woman is completely covered by some strange, but elegant clothes

of an alien style. Black-white-red. Three constants in her clothes.

You are silent. Over the past two years, you have forgotten how to perceive recognition. You bowed again, you smiled at her. You curtsied and the woman let out a chuckle.

The woman suddenly comes closer to you. There is something in her movements that you involuntarily take a small step back, still standing on your toes and in that damn ballet skirt, and it seems that you are still shorter than her.

The woman moves so close to you that you feel the air around you change with her breath. You feel the warmth, not of a machine, not of a monster.

Warmth. A little burning, unfamiliar, but inviting.

The warmth of a human body.

"Good performance. And a good mask on the face," the woman whispers in your ear, sending goosebumps through your body.

The woman barely noticeably runs the fingers of her right hand along your shoulder. You feel how sharp her nails are, but you don't feel pain, only unnatural warmth.

The woman's hand suddenly moves away, and you feel something cold in your hands.

The moment of warmth disappears as quickly as it appeared. The woman moves away from you and with the same smirk on her thin, even lips, goes somewhere, passing by the switched off robot where people were looking a couple of minutes ago. And you stand, looking after her as if amazed. Like the statues of the Archons, who are eternally motionless and which nothing can revive - not even the prayer of a desperate mortal.

You suddenly realize that you have barely breathed all this time and have heard nothing but a low, hoarse female whisper.

You blink, look around, but it is too late - the woman has already managed to leave the hall, haha, and you did not even hear the slamming door.

You automatically look at your palm and find several large mora coins.

You swallow as you gradually return to reality and begin to see and hear everything perfectly. You look at several mora coins in your hand. The mask on the face always needs mora so that it continues to be beautiful and perfect.

But the heart burning in the darkness - no.

Your routine is simple. Put on makeup, put on a ballet skirt, bandage your chest so that it does not stick out, and put on ballet shoes. Lace up the corset. Repeat the dance that you have rehearsed countless times before. Inhale - exhale. Count to ten, put a smile on your face - and go out on stage. Lately, you are rarely invited to participate in solo performances in the theater. You look like a robot among artists, although in fact you are an artist and there are only mechanical iron things around you.

You stand up, long accustomed to the blinding spotlights in the first seconds of the performance. A couple of young magicians performed in front of you, you met them before, nice guys, they helped you once… but you don’t really care about it.

And it’s your turn, you start dancing, spinning, doing pirouettes and complex movements. All this is a continuous performance, and all life is a theater, you all need to play your roles on time. But isn’t there passion and tragedy in the theater at the same time?

You close your eyes and remember that very warmth. So human and inhuman at the same time. You remember the hot breath and inspiration that washed over you the moment you saw that streak of scarlet in that strange woman's eyes. If the heart could burn with a living flame, all your clothes would have burned away long ago, charred, and you would be dancing naked on this stage. But haven't you been naked for a long time? Doesn't inspiration burn away a person's outer self and set fire to his inner self?

You know that this woman is in the audience; sitting among the few spectators who still enjoy a living human performance, despite all the technological progress in Fontaine.

You don't wonder about her reaction, you don't think about the smirk on her perfect marble face. You don't imagine her words that would send a pleasant, euphoric shiver down your body.

You stop your dance with a bow as the music fades. You've already torn your heart out of your chest, it's burning - so why prefaces and afterwords? You open your eyes, the spotlights, as usual, blind you a little. But they seem like shadows compared to what's burning inside you. You look ahead. Someone is applauding you, but you're looking at that woman whose eyes are piercing your entire body like needles.

She's clapping too, and on her face is the same smile-smirk.

The spotlights disappear. The red curtain closes. And you exhale, carrying within you, somewhere deep in your body, that very spark. And the fire that started from that spark and turned that same spark into nothing.

---

You gasp for air and grip the edge of the dressing room vanity table with your hands. Someone else's lips on your neck are like tongues of flame and cold, sharp peaks at the same time. Thin, dark fingers with long nails gently brush your hair back. A bouquet of blood flowers that this woman gave you is lying around somewhere in the dressing room after the show. The dim light from the lamps dances bizarrely across the woman's face, making her look like something unnatural, illusory.

You swallow and exhale again, pressing your back against the tabletop. You reach for the human warmth and put your arms around the woman's back, running your hands over her bare, thin, slender waist.

"What is your name?"

You ask hoarsely between deep, shuddering breaths. The woman grins. She runs her hot, long tongue down your neck, leaving a thin trail of saliva. She looks up at you with her eyes, a thin scarlet streak. Then she straightens up a little and whispers in your ear, "Arlecchino"

Her answers are always like that - short and laconic. Always appropriate, even though you've only heard her answers a few times in your life.

Arlecchino spreads your legs with her knee, then smoothly lifts you by the waist and makes you sit on the countertop, pressing your back against the vanity mirror. The woman's hot hands fall on your hips and stroke them through the layers of your dress. You swallow and reach for another wet kiss, smearing the lipstick on Arlecchino's lips, mixing your lipstick with hers. Her tongue touches yours, and you shiver, feeling how wet you are becoming. Her hot, slender hands slide under your dress and touch your naked skin.

You break the kiss and throw your head back in pleasure, you painfully hit the cold mirror behind you with the top of your head, and Arlecchino removes one of her hands on your hips, and pulls this hand to your head, to the back of your head, to protect you from the unpleasant, cold pain.

You moan softly when someone else's lips touch your neck again. A hot tongue slides along your skin down to your collarbones. Arlecchino removes her hand from your hip and begins to feverishly quickly pull down the top of your dress, exposing your chest. When her hot mouth and hot tongue touch one of your nipples, you arch your back, breathing heavily and moaning with pleasure. If Harlequin hadn't protected the back of your head with her hand, you would have definitely broken the mirror.

The woman looks up at you, although she bends over because of her height. Her eyes burn with desire and anticipation when she sucks your nipple into her mouth again with her lips and makes a loud smack. You shudder again. You gently squeeze the other's breast, and your hand rests on her thigh.

The woman suddenly touches your breast in a certain place and hoarsely says: "What I like, I do not give. And if from this my hands become even more charred, then I will only enjoy it."

You suddenly understand where exactly this woman's hand is on your naked chest. Her hand is near the place where your flaming heart beats greedily. A crooked smile creeps onto your lips as you tremble with desire. You whisper with heat in your voice, looking at the blood-red streaks in the eyes of the woman in front of you:

"Well, then burn. Burn for me. Arlecchino.."

She thin lips opposite stretch into a hungry smile. You are kissed again, the tongue penetrating deep into your mouth. You respond to the kiss, clinging with your hands to the shoulders of Arlecchino.

You never really cared about the politics of other regions of Teyvat, too busy with your own problems. So you had no idea that this strange name "Arlecchino" had its own meaning, but you had a feeling that she was somehow connected with the fatui..

You were just thinking about how interesting this name was.

You will definitely understand everything much later: who this woman in front of you is, what she does, why her hands are so black, as if they were really charred. But maybe it's even for the best. Why prefaces and afterwords when the spark has already become a flame?

˗ˏˋ ꒰ BURN FOR ME꒱ ˎˊ˗ Arlecchino

@anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @shyentsfoundherink @lavandulawrites @ashyashylee @s4nguiine

More Posts from Dobbie-doo and Others

5 months ago

Every day, I understand less and less why women are degraded if their bodies are exposed online for the world to see. To me, it's just sex. To me, she's just naked. That's it. I'm just growing desensitized to it when my Tumblr feed is filled with pretty, nude ladies. What's so wrong with our bodies? Man, fuck this.

5 months ago
˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wanderer
˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wanderer
˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wanderer
˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wanderer
˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wanderer

˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ wanderer

wanna find out what your loved one likes within the framework of.. not exactly childish topics ?

✧ warnings — MDNI !! , some kinks , demisexual wanderer, fem ! reader, mentions of breeding kink; ✧ a/n —This work is somewhat of an experiment, I welcome your participation in its development. Write to my inbox and write what character you want next. Сharacter name + "for nsfw-alphabet", and then your application will be considered when writing. ✧ minors do not interact. !!

˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wanderer

✧ A: aftercare(after sex)

About sex, the wanderer is certainly enlightened, after all he is 500+ years old. For the wanderer, sex is an alien and strange, as he thought, activity for him. Despite his long life, the Wanderer never thought that he could allow himself something like sex - the prerogative of people. However, you opened the door to this mysterious world for him, leading him by the arm through all the corners of pleasure. And for him this is certainly valuable.

After all, he got attached. Again.

But when he, despite the fact that he is a puppet, hiding a slight shaking in his body from the sight of your pleasure, continues to bring you through overstimulation with his own fingers.

After he brought you beyond the edge of pleasure, he will silently lie with you, without touching, but no, he is not squeamish! in no case! the wanderer always lost himself in his thoughts, leaving reality for himself, but hearing how you slightly squeal and try to catch your breath, he will carefully cover your fragile, human body with a sheet wet with sweat, having kissed you on the forehead beforehand.

His cold hand gently rests on your chest, on the place where your heart beats so rapidly, he could not even imagine that people's hearts would beat for him in the rhythm of love and devotion. He himself did not notice how the corners of his lips gently lift and he leans down to leave a light kiss on your lips.

✧ B: bodypart (favorite body part)

Hands. He loves to hold on to them, to feel your warmth. If he is in high spirits, he will definitely kiss your wrists and knuckles, asking you to run your hand over his chest or torso. His hands themselves are cold, with puppet joints, with each touch you are literally shaking.

Another time, you wanted to grab onto something in fear, when the wanderer sharply increased the pace of caresses that he gave. His hand tenderly entwined yours, his fingers held your palm, and then your hands intertwined in a lock. You are struck by the contrast of body movements: with one hand they give you quick advances, with the other they hold you, with the pads of their fingers lightly stroking the back of your palm.

✧ C: cum(orgasm)

Your inner sense of justice can rarely be calmed down: of the two of you, you are the one who gets the release most often. Although you understand that he certainly doesn't need an orgasm.

Undoubtedly, the Wanderer loves your personal attention and loves to see your efforts (he will never say this), but he can often refuse the receiving position in favor of you and the time spent, and sometimes he simply stops you during the process, gently taking you away from his body, and says: "I've had enough for today," although you know perfectly well that you haven't reached the end.

When it comes to you, he always knows how and what to do with your body in order to hear your beloved voice again, trembling amidst slight insanity. The Wanderer was able to quickly find what he wanted and often tries to distract you from unnecessary work or study at the academy.

✧ D: dirty secret (secret sexual desire)

Surprisingly, he is not used to hiding anything, although it would seem that he is a man with many secrets. However, only his past is covered in a dark haze, when, in his own words, he lived in Inazuma. But in matters of sex, he rarely hides anything, more often he himself is curious about various embarrassing issues.

But he imagined what would have happened to you if you had appeared in his life with his "past" version of himself.. What would he do with you. This thought throws him into a slight fear. Believe it or not, he really feels fear, fear for you. He is afraid that someday, he will lose control.

But.. let's be honest, he sometimes imagined how his own hands would close around your fragile neck, slightly pressing and blocking access to the oxygen you desire.. But these are just his dark, secret fantasies (or are they?)

✧ E: experience (how much more experienced is he)

The wanderer is not experienced in sex, but in other things… He can give you advice or suddenly during your conversation he will say such a wise thing that you inadvertently think about it for a long time..

Of course, the wanderer is 500 years old and in his life he has seen and experienced different things. - "What was in the past will remain there" - you got this in a conversation about his former partners. He did not ask you, but you, purely out of politeness and mirroring his actions, did not ask him, although this topic is wildly interesting for you.

But he definitely knows how to touch your body to bring you to the peak of pleasure. And it seems to you that you are kind of "the first" but he had some mongrels before you..

✧ F: Favorite (favorite memory)

He always values ​​memories with you, because he knows that one day he will lose you. But his favorite memory to this day is a joint trip to the bookstore.

In addition to the actual publications in bindings and booklets, such places sell various kinds of stationery and all the writing items that can be imagined in your world. The Wanderer, of course, went there only because you went there. But he often needs paper, even more often - braided strings for letters, for the academy.

"Maybe while you.. look around here?" - he looks at you mysteriously, leaning his elbows on the counter, and turning over a sheet of some paper in his hands so that you do not see the contents. Some paper that the merchant gave him..

You nodded, obeying, and headed towards some shelves where there were books with "inverted" covers - inazuma novels that are read from right to left. Returning a little later to the wanderer with a couple of books in your hands, you, slowing down, stopped next to your lover, who was already waiting for you with an envelope in his hands.

"Hmm..," - the Wanderer hands you a blue letter with one hand. - This is for you. There is very beautiful sealing wax here and… I chose the best one. You let out an "oh!" and accepted the blue letter with a smile, tilting your head questioningly.

The merchant, who had gradually faded into the background, reappeared just when you took the letter in your hands. He explained with a smile:

"I forgot to tell you about the colors, and your lover has already paid for everything! Deep blue is used for love letters!"

You, embarrassed, opened the envelope and looked at the bluish particles of the frozen substance on the core of the letter. The Wanderer frowned, chuckling, covering his smile with his hat.

✧ G: Goofy: (how serious is he at this point)

He's more like… curious. He's happy (no) to agree to something new, he looks at your body and his body with a searching gaze, he doesn't always even treat sex as sex and not as a scientific examination. You sometimes joke about it with him in a light-hearted way, but he seems to be able to masterfully feign involvement, so you never figured out whether he's really enjoying it or just pretending.

His goal is to please you so that you'll leave him alone with this question for at least a couple of days. So at first glance, it may seem like the Wanderer has light-hearted intentions.

But I'd be lying if I said he doesn't like to use slightly rude remarks about your condition - flushed cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and a trembling body.. Ohhh! In such moments the wanderer looks so hot, I'm not afraid to say so..

✧ H: hair

He loves. He takes care of your hair, fingering the strands between his fingers when you both, barely covered, lie in the darkness of the bedroom. He never allowed himself rudeness in the form of pulling them or other experiments.

He constantly frowns and growls amusingly when you pull his indigo hair away from you or squeeze in fits of "love" during intercourse.

✧ I: intimacy

Oh, he's clearly not a romantic. But he'll gladly follow you when you suggest that he sit by the river or walk in the Avidya forest after your work at the academy. The Wanderer is very careful about his time and is ready to give it only to the chosen ones; therefore, if you ever ask yourself whether you are needed or close, remember how much activity boils in him when your figure appears on the horizon.

Oh, Wanderer.. What a man you are!

When you do not see, he will pick you a bouquet of flowers or bring you food when you are at the academy.. His woman cannot starve like this and be without attention..! Well, isn't caring a form of romance..?

.. But somehow we have moved away from the topic of sex, right? The Wanderer himself says that he is not a fan of romance, but at this very moment he behaves like the last suitor in the world. You know how he loves to kiss and passionately bite your neck, not caring at all how excited you are below, how he passionately kisses you in a fit of "love" and presses you to himself, being inside you.

He loves to kiss you, loves your lips - He really likes to cling to them as close as possible, bite, lick.. Long and deep, soaked in a hilarious and passionate feeling kisses, he leaves for the evening..

✧ J - Jerk off (Masturbation).

.. No, just no. That's all.

✧ K: kink(kink)

Although the wanderer very rarely hinted at lustful games, but in conversation, already seeing the embarrassed face next to him, the former harbinger will barely lower his voice, stroking your cheek with his finger, and will continue to say things of a slightly intimate nature, as if it does not embarrass him at all..

Roughly speaking, this is called a kink for embarrassment.

When the Wanderer, seemingly not going to kiss or lie down on you, hangs near your face, lowering his gaze to your collarbones. You listen to his usual slightly hoarse voice - his voice becomes like this when you speak quietly - You can't go anywhere and … The request to look him in the eyes is not fulfilled the first time. He shamed you, and he himself is trying to show his confidence, even when the meaning of what was said is very, very vulgar. He raised his bluish-indigo eyes to you and asked in an ingratiating voice.

"Why are you so blushing, my Persephone, hm?" - after his addresses you blush even more, you want to hide. Everything inside you turns over several times, and in the lower part of your stomach it becomes heavy. You roll your eyes, trying not to look and not to show your reactions, but this only makes the wanderer laugh, giving new ideas for your closeness.

You never get embarrassed, you say?

✧ L: location(place)

He loves those places where you can "a lot and for a long time", therefore, of course, he considers your home - the bedroom - to be a winning option. But, considering how he hates human vanity and places with a lot of people (because you live in the city of Sumeru) still seem to be the best option for enjoying… you, this is the Avidya Forest, a beautiful and aesthetic place.

M: motivation(what excites)

Call her by name more often. Only you can. Drop these little words-challenges, so that the former harbinger turns to you. You know the translation of his wonderful name, right?

Perhaps, when you call him, using not always standard intonations, he feels some interest in his person. A special need that he has long tried to find in people.

Kabukimono. Ka-bu-ki-mo-no..

After all the betrayals he experienced, he never got close to anyone, for everyone he was always a stranger and a monster who knew no mercy. He never felt love for people, just as they did not feel it for him. Until you appeared in his life. He loves to hear you whisper his name, say that he is the best, responsive, wonderful..

He also gets a little embarrassed when you kiss that very electro sign on his neck and hug him around the waist.. For him, this is a slightly intimate place, no, I'm serious.

✧ N: no(what he won't do)

There was always DUB-CON in your sex with him. Wanderer seems to take you under his wing and plays with you like an animal. But still, he will never do what you don't want. o he will stop when you directly ask him to. Even if he starts something, he will also always be ready to stop. Still, sex is not necessary for him, and he tries exclusively for you.

A simple "no" is always enough.

✧ O: oral(oral sex)

He knows perfectly well how sensitive and tired your body can be, the wanderer can go down, grab you by the hips with his hands and, slightly lifting them to bend your legs, will begin to leave kisses on your tender skin. He considers you very tender, just a tender person, but with such practice he melts from the permissiveness that you give, and without stopping he whispers: "mhh.my beloved girl..so fragile..so tender.."

(give me this man. now. I demand!!)

✧ P: pose(favorite pose)

Pose, any of those that allow you to maintain eye contact. This is a rather significant condition for him, because if intimacy - then you need to enjoy everything at once. Your beautiful eyes too; he loves to look at them even in a non-intimate setting, just putting you in front of him and lying on top.

After the incident when you heard his cold, commanding tone in the middle of the process..

"Look at me Y/N , or else I'll stop. " - You completely forgot all questions about why this is so. You look at him. He looks at you. You watch the wanderer squinting his eyes until the smallest movements, visually gazing into your slight fright from his rarely emerging, so openly dominant attitude towards you.. Oh oh, it seems the Wet effect has happened!

✧ Q: quickie (quickie)

yes and no.

If you remember that he doesn't need sex, and he does all this only for you, you can understand why he wants to finish with all this as soon as possible. But damn him! How he loves all this foreplay, even though he said "I don't need all these ceremonies".

So.. He prefers long foreplay - quick orgasm.

✧ R: risk (experiments)

no. I mentioned it above. The Wanderer is not one to risk his reputation just because he gave in to the embrace of debauchery. But he is always willing to use vision with you during the process, just a little bit! And after that, when you almost burned down your house… You stopped using vision often.

✧ S: stamina (how resilient is he)

He is a puppet created by the Archon to serve and wear gnosis. He does not need food, water, sleep or rest. He can continue to fuck your body for hours without shedding a drop of sweat. But why does he need that? He leaves you immediately after the first round. Perhaps, if you ask him nicely, he will give you another orgasm.

✧ T: Toys(How does he feel about toys?)

He does not understand at all why they are needed when there are… (okay, okay, I'm kidding). And I'm not sure that there is such a thing in Teyvat.. He does not like and does not want to add more debauchery to this process, as he previously considered it, because he looks at your naked body not so much with lust in his gaze, but with tenderness and admiration.

✧ U: unfair(teasing)

Yes! but this happens rarely, usually he is gloomy, serious and attentive to your body.

But still.. He likes to tease you sexually, already directly in the process. This is either prematurely touching particularly sensitive places, provoking a violent reaction, or delaying the moment so that first your malicious comments come into play, and then your sweet pleas caressing his ears and more.

✧ V: voice&volume(voice and volume)

You know, at first he will mockingly jerk off your groans, looking at you while he fucks you with his own fingers, but he himself will not notice how carried away he is and will moan with you in the rhythm of his thrusts, bringing you both to the edge of pleasure.

You've often heard how he sometimes sighs to his thoughts and makes a frak when he likes something..But how does he sound when he's pressed tightly against you? It's like music! You won't believe it, but it's true.

But you can't call him loud, he's just playing around. He likes to hear your melodic, beautiful responses, like gratitude for his work. He can't help but smirk every time he hears these frank, beautiful moans from you, and often overdoes it with his caresses to hear these beautiful sounds even more..

✧ X: x-ray (under clothes)

Under clothes, a magnificent body.

That's exactly what you told him the first time you saw him completely naked. A thin puppet body.. with various interesting inserts and doll joints.

Despite his quite good self-esteem, he still has a slight lack of self-confidence.. Here it manifests itself in his chuckle when you compliment him; he will be a little embarrassed, will not show it and will begin to divert the topic. A moment of weakness that he can allow himself only with you.

✧ Y: yearning (libido)

4/10. Lower than yours, so there is no doubt. He clearly may have a need for your affection and care, but hardly for sex. He perceives sex as a way to express tenderness that tve can't express in words. And he puts pleasure in second place. Every time he inhales irritably and scoffs when you ask him to "give you time" he says how all these human aspects and desire are slightly incomprehensible to him (were), but every time he still gets lost in the throes of passion with you.

✧ Z: zzz(sleep)

well..um..He doesn't need sleep. So, he just waits, waits for you to fall asleep before getting himself in order.

the list of characters will be updated

˗ˏˋ ꒰ NSFW ALPHABET ꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wanderer

(he serving cunt bro 💀😭🙏)

@anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @shyentsfoundherink @lavandulawrites @ashyashylee @bl0odyd0kuro @himasgod @shyentsmissingink @crimsoncandy04 @ariiadnes @crepezinhos


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6 months ago

Do you guys think I should change the title of my yandere scaramouche fic? I think either “Annihilation” or “Your gentle madness” WHICH IS MOST SUITABLE.. or just “don’t hug me. I’m scared”

@hairstuckinmythroat  @shyentsfoundherink @rsventhesecondd


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4 months ago

body painting with flowers man

only with you.

Only With You.

angst & comfort. gn!reader × wanderer. wc 1.7k

summary. non-sexual nudity & intimacy; body painting with flowers; recollection of past events (wanderer).

sumeru is a dualistic region. where knowledge and reincarnation richly seep through every concept there is, it would still not exist without any ignorance, nor destruction. one needs another to thrive. 

wanderer himself is a dual man—a human being without an organic heart yet a puppet with feelings. somebody, who had multiple names throughout. somebody, who once had a mother; friends. somebody, who was given a midway place in this world across his journey. as a wanderer, he is said to have no name, kin, or destination.

maybe there is a definite reason for him to spend the majority of his time in sumeru after all. as he originated from inazuma, a land of isolated eternity, spent years at the claws of the notorious nation of snezhnaya and—seeking his ascension to godhood, eventual prosperity, and validation at last—was forced into flimsy redemption in sumeru.

wanderer self-destructed his ignorance to reincarnate it as full of knowledge; to shape his existence anew. all of this for him to question himself and suffer the same.

the sacred tree of the world—irminsul—answered the questions he always sought and yet, he was betrayed once again. wisdom is a heavy burden with a great cost; it could be one’s demise. ignorance to him was, indeed, a bliss. as well as oblivion, which he was stripped of in a little of a while. 

since the day he had to relive his entire lifetime in a minute and earned an anemo vision in the process, the world around him changed. in fact, he met you, who made a significant change to his demeanor. wanderer may not be the best companion there is, however, you both always seek each other in a crowd. even if there is none of it.

the sunset is pretty today, you think as you immerse yourself up to the chin into the lukewarm water underneath the waterfall of gandharva ville. wanderer remained apart from you for a while. he was hesitant. he may have a synthetic body of a puppet, but being stark naked in front of you felt way too vulnerable by his nature. it felt like cutting himself open and letting himself go free.

he was never free to begin with. freedom to each is a different concept. the day the god of eternity sealed his power and hid him like a failure of hers, followed by letting him roam free, he chained his mind to different intentions of ei’s. he felt neglected and deprived of who he was meant to be—not knowing he was a mere prototype, never designed to hold and wield the electro gnosis; whose existence was about to be terminated right before they saw him cry in his sleep—rather than free.

he had no given name nor a home to get back to at the end of the day. so, naturally, when fatui took him under their wings, he felt that being the sixth seat was his rightful place. 

there were many kind people in his early ordinary days of learning how to be human between the time he was discarded and given the title of the balladeer. your way of carrying oneself immensely reminds him of them all. sometimes it can be agonizing to wanderer, but lovely just the same. he reacts to your eyes, inviting him to join you bathing in the stream while the sun slowly sets. 

erstwhile clear water, due to the reflection of the sky, is dyeing itself in colors of yellow, orange, violet, and pink. the river takes its appearance like the flower field around you at once. 

as wanderer takes his clothes off, he is quickly submerging himself into and under the water. it is shallow, so you can swiftly reach his side. you have qualms about whether he would let you come closer, despite that, you carefully stretch your hands towards his shoulders. you sit him up. he has a lot on his mind lately, thus, he lets you take care of him without thinking much. to tell the truth, he trusts you to a great extent, knowing you would catch him if he fell—literally and figuratively. 

you pluck a lone flower from the floral field. it is greenish blue, or rather turquoise, in color. one would rarely see it blossom. the color reminds you of wanderer’s tattoos’ when they glow with power.

you slowly trace them with luminous petals, so it leaves dye markings; barely visible, but you both know it’s there nevertheless. it is a silly activity yet remarkably intimate for either. he does not feel skin contact the same as everyone else, regardless, he gets chills from your delicate brushes.

somehow you do not care about him being born unhuman at all. maybe because in your mind he is the most human one could be—cruel and all the things beautiful at the same time; imperfect. 

you offer him another flower of your favorite color, for him to paint on your bare body as well. he is skeptical, however, it takes only a moment to engage in the act. you shiver every time he tries touching you softly. neither of you talk. 

you warily touch his face then. the pink rose in your frail grip is kissing his cheeks, and nose, consciously avoiding his pursed lips as well as eyes, which are dyed burgundy anyways. the color was indeed deliberately chosen to imitate a blush of sorts. you thought it was cute. 

he is feeling your skin alongside, attentively selecting parts of your body you would be fine with; giving your consent to. it does vary how you react.

you reach for his chest subsequently, holding a flower of opaque red. you are faltering while drawing something. at that moment, he stops his own tracery and retracts his arm further from you; stays still. you painted a little heart on his chest. likewise, you keep looking at it in silence, smiling. 

it was a heart he was able to call his own. 

he remembers. puppet he is, abandoned by the almighty shogun for being overly human, but used as a tool by fatui ever since. in no way they saw a human—whereas he could not die and had an empty space of a heart. how can one be a human being without a heart? his existence contradicted itself in that sense.

as a harbinger, did he become more human then? when a tainted heart he got from the doctor saved him, it was offered to him in the form of the ashes to have in that empty shell of a place. at first, he did not know it was niwa's; that same withered one he discarded after condemning the entire incident as his second betrayal of cruel human nature. a human heart he yearns for is not worth the pain of another person’s death. 

afterward, he sought a gnosis to take that place instead. his luck was one of a kind really. the contentment he became so familiar with, was short-lived in the end. it was not a real heart anyhow. can the anemo vision he recently acquired serve as his vital core replacement?

each time he came into possession of a fill-in for a heart, someone else had to suffer. merely this time, he actually felt you blessed him with a heart he could be endowed with without any anguish. he put his singular hand up to his chest and held it pressed. he was fond of his ephemeral heart. 

you slowly but surely grasp his fingers. the puppet joints over the years looked almost seamless. it evidently looked human-like. you cautiously brush your lips against his knuckles, meeting his violet-blue eyes. do they twinkle—was it mirroring the stirring water on second thought? 

promptly, the serene moment of yours is interfered. you turn your head to unfamiliar hushed tones and humming. there pop up a few heads of plant-like forest spirits. you notice wanderer is gifted to see them as well. 

aranaras are critters, only to be seen by trustworthy dreamers of pure and kind hearts. it is a mystery really—wanderer’s ability to spot them. is he, not a doll without a heart; can he be regarded as good-natured; is he to be trusted… he is not a child either (but acting like one every once in a while). 

thereafter, wanderer stretches his hand toward a bright blue-colored creature, holding a yellow poppy. flowers make aranaras remember their friends whenever they meet. besides, they gain power from memories. do the spirits of sumeru forests lay hold of dreadful recollections as well? wanderer is brimful of them. 

after a while, wanderer looks in your direction. he is deep in thought at the moment, pondering who exactly he is. he does understand the concept of being human pretty well, yet he does have uncertainties about whether he can call himself one, partially at least. he did give up trying to be human in the distant past, though, he had experienced pieces of being human underway—having emotions, enduring pain, having a heart of some form, a place to live, a region to serve, people he called family, and a name. 

truthfully, he had a myriad of names; words he was called by others. he never deemed them his names frankly. nonetheless, he loved himself as kabukimono—the dolly wandering eccentric, perceived as naive and peculiar. deep inside he knows he did not stray far from his roots, it was simply eclipsed by the wounds of his past. 

he did name himself kunikuzushi, the world-destroyer once. alongside was given titles of the balladeer and scaramouche. it should be mentioned that whilst no man on teyvat recalls it being him—he was formerly known as the everlasting lord of arcane wisdom; shouki no kami, the prodigal, too. 

attempting erasure of himself, including rectifying past events that his existence, and rage-driven deeds caused, wanderer reincarnated into someone as curious as the young kabukimono. he opted for calling himself a wanderer. was he an eccentric one this time on top of that? at the end of the day, it all comes full circle. 

at present, he does go by a freshly given name, restraining himself with a new psyche all while making an effort to atone for his sins. he accepted his birth, not to mention, the entirety of his past. 

he looks all around his own porcelain-like skin, currently dyed with multiple colors. it tugs at his heartstrings. he does glance at your body then, admiring the art, positioned in front—meaning you, not the mindless drawings of flowers’ pigments on your figure. 

hence, he finally feels like he has reached the promised divinity. only whenever he is with you.


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5 months ago

MY MAN

Late birthday post for my boy, wanderer (love him, main him, cried for him)

I’m not sure if I can say it’s suggestive; more like non sexual nudity?? okay, maybe a little bit, but really sweet Just wanted to point that out so no one is surprised

gn reader

Late Birthday Post For My Boy, Wanderer (love Him, Main Him, Cried For Him)

Soft skin meets porcelain. Warmth lands onto that cold body of his. It’s weird, but somehow, he feels welcomed. With every motion of his hands, you feel like you’re about to be devoured. There’s something endearing in that, though. How gentle he is, yet also bold. It earns a chuckle from you.

When that freezing feeling reaches a certain spot, you shudder. He stops. Eyes laced with worry meet yours. A silent reminder of care. “It’s fine, you can go on” and so he does. Your hands wrap around his waist, to steady yourself. Uneven breaths tickle his neck, you never feel his. It all feels eerily.

He leans in, beautiful eyes staring at you, with that pleading expression you rarely see. You let him, eagerly welcoming that sweet feeling of his lips on yours. It’s the only time you feel his body heat. Deeper and deeper, he ventures, as if you’re some unknown land. Hands roam, with so much devotion even the quietest whispers can’t convey.

For a moment, there’s no friction between you. That human body of yours yearns for more, but patiently waits for the puppet’s choice. With that smile, you seem like a god in his eyes. A god he once tried to be, a goal he hoped to achieve with so much effort put, and so little practice of how to be one. You didn’t need it; you don’t need a gnosis, a perfect body (which you do have, in his humble opinion), a whole palace meant for you, you don’t need anything at all. Just one follower who’d die for your happiness - that is, him. How ironic; faithful followers is what he needed the most (even if he saw them as pests), and now he is that, which he hated the most - someone in love.

Warm skin melts with porcelain, like a candle. Two people turn into one in a dance of gentle love and passion. “Happy birthday. I love you always, and forever. Remember that, okay?” He loved you twice as much.


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6 months ago
˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il Dottore
˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il Dottore
˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il Dottore
˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il Dottore
˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il Dottore

˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il dottore

Dottore decided to pamper his dear wife right in the laboratory

✧ warnings — NSFW, petting, wife ! assistant ! reader, dottore being loving , detailed description of genitals, no "pussy" "tits" etc.a bit non-canonical dottore (but I tried lol) ✧ minors do not interact. !! ✧ a/n — AAHHHH he's so hot, so elegant, but he scares me..

˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il Dottore

Dottore, taking you by the hands, escorts you and seats you in his chair. He leans on the armrests and hangs over you, leaning forward to kiss. Again, sweetly, with the desire for your lips, with feeling, relaxed. It seems to you that only he kisses like this - so imbued with the moment, so pleasantly.. You have long been convinced of this, now you only see confirmation.

For convenience, he puts his knee on the edge of the seat, between your legs. You hug him, raising your hands high, touch his shoulders, run your fingers along them and take hold of the edge of his black shoulder straps on his chest, wanting to feel your husband even closer. The chair awkwardly wobbles from side to side because of the hinge in the mount and the wheels on the stand. And it seems that one of you does not like this at all.

The harbinger moves away, stands up straight and, without asking you anything, moves the seat and its back to the table. It comes out somehow even rudely, you grin hysterically, seeing the strangely serious expression on your partner's face even behind his mask. And he is near you again, puts his palm in a black patent leather glove with blue palms on your thin neck, presses his thumb under your chin, lifting your face. The doctor kisses you again, but not for long, goes down and gives attention to your neck, pleasantly touching it with his lips. There are pale scars from his teeth on your shoulders. He still does not spare you. Unbuttons your shirt, doing everything even too quickly. Dottore is incredibly patient, you know, but… Now with you is not the same person with whom you spoke ten minutes ago.

"Maybe you have any bright preferences?" - He asks and with the nose of his beak mask outlines your cheekbone, tickling..

"Uh… I don't know…" - you feel awkward talking about this, that's all.

"Shyness is the enemy of debauchery. Flower." - he whispers in your ear, instantly spreading crowds of goosebumps on your shoulders.

"Don't you want to feel the best of what you can get?" — a soft and usually wet tongue runs along the shell of your reddened ear, it gets hotter..

"Dottore.. I…" - you are gently taken by the jaw and turned away, not letting you finish. He understood perfectly well what exactly of his actions turns you on, it was your whole body that betrayed you. The body-traitor, unconsciously giving an impulse to the fingers that yours squeeze the robe on someone else's shoulders.. The way you tremble and breathe heavily..

The doctor obviously knows well how the body works and reacts, and it is easier to read you than to read the title of a book. Now he is not interested in your curves, he needs a reaction. The essence of your desires, to understand who you are beyond common sense. To get to the truth, to the deepest plan, intentions. His "love" shifts to the collarbones, now open to the man. His butterfly kisses cover your bust, while his palms make their way to the belt. It is stuffy under your wet shirt, feelings are revealed anew when the scientist's fingers touch your back. You arch your chest forward, ribs become clearly visible, while Dottore unfastens your bra.

(And yet, when deeply in love, petting and sex are many times more pleasant than in other situations.)

A slight movement - Your bra is pulled up, your breasts are perfectly visible to your partner, who is trying hard not to examine you in too much detail so as not to embarrass you. Shame, shame after all.

One of your breasts is carefully squeezed in his palm, feeling it in a way that pleases you. Dottore, in order to restrain his sick impulses and not to scare you away, mentally prayed even to the damned Archons.

The blue-haired man kneels in front of you while you were sitting half-dry on the chair, he comfortably sat between your legs and thanks to his height, he leans towards your body on the chair, licks your areola with a tight movement, which causes a recoil between your already wet thighs, closing his lips he slightly sucks your nipple, pressing his finger on the second. You do not hold back a moan while inhaling, the sexual tension grows by the minute.

Next, your stomach is subject to attack, a weak spot for tickling, from which you twitch, trying to hold back involuntary laughter. The scientist takes your legs and puts them on his shoulders, looking into his eyes through his mask. You thought that it was impossible to blush even more than before? Well, it is very possible.

The heat burns your ears and cheeks. Incredible luck! you are wearing a skirt today… Yes, a skirt with gold inserts and patterns, quite detailed, in the style of Teyvat fashion. But today this skirt will be a provocation.

"What do you want to?…"

"To satisfy you," He enthusiastically turns his head and kisses your knee, not at all embarrassed to talk about what is happening.

You did not dare to answer, control is enough only to watch an interesting show under you. Dottore, having gone a little further with his lips along your limb, bites you, again with a hint of rudeness. Your nylon tights are running, what a bastard! They are expensive..! At the same moment you notice a clear and distinct reaction to what is happening on the scientist's trousers, it becomes somehow completely unbearable for you to sit and endure his.. attacks.

You offendedly let your right leg go from his shoulder, not having received its portion of kisses. The Doctor, not distracted from biting you, turns his gaze to the movement, but quickly turns around. You, looking at his groin, then at his mask, touch his erection with the toe of your foot, press lightly, and hear his sharp sigh. He lifts your pelvis and, taking you by the ankle, leans your foot against himself.

"Hmm, don't fool around, naughty girl" Having slightly come to his senses, the Doctor smiles. — "Come to me."

Of course, you lean over, it is clear why - even more kisses. The Harbinger, now with a clear intention, brazenly kisses your lips. His palm slides along the smooth fabric under your skirt, the hem of the skirt is already lifted due to the position. Now your thigh is crumpled by his long fingers, looking for the waistband of the tights. At the same time, Dottore presses his tongue on your lips, forcing you to open your mouth wider. A new vulgar gesture - the teeth are briefly outlined by the tongue, it moves towards yours. It strokes the roof of the mouth… For a second it seems to you that your husband's tongue is too long. Dottore has found the edge of your clothes, using his other hand he pulls them off you.

"You have a long tongue," you note out loud, already vaguely.

"Why do you think I talk so much?" — an object of interest opens up to your gaze… Archons…

Twice as long as average, together with the teeth it looks even slightly creepy, including unnatural. Your eyes widen, your cheeks are smothered with a blush, Dottore smirks and hides his dignity.

"Just genes"

"You never showed it before…" — You are shocked. What will happen now, Tsaritsa, have mercy…!

"Relax your muscles, just remember how it was the first time, haha.." — But still, the man is so calm and gentle, skillfully seasoning it with pepper of rudeness, that you cannot help but melt from excitement - it is impossible.

And Dottore keeps trying to pull your clothes off. Very intrusively. You are sprawled in a chair, led by your beloved, who, thanks to the position you have adopted, is still doing what he wanted. He is still on his knees, on the floor, between the tables, in an open laboratory, where one wrong move and an overturned flask can injure you both, He is going to satisfy you. What a shame, if someone comes in, you will not survive the shame!

His cold to the point of goosebumps hand, still elegantly covered with the fabric of the glove, touches you through your underwear. Strokes your vulva, slowly, viscously, torments, makes you almost fidget. He is handsome, damn elegant and smart, ideally knows anatomy and therefore understands perfectly what to do with you. Something in your lower abdomen is cramping from such thoughts, especially when he so dominantly and playfully pulls you towards him by your tie.

"Are you satisfied?" He whispers into your ear, you catch yourself thinking again that he sees your sensual gap and is pressing on it right now.

"Yes, but… That's not all, right?" — You insert a short, embarrassed answer, hug your lover's shoulders, he changes the position of his fingers on your external genitals - he puts his fingers on your clitoris, knowing the anatomy perfectly well, he instantly feels the organ.

"Hahaha… No, not all, darling" — His velvety and deep laughter reaches your ears, you involuntarily shrink in your chair.

"Wonderful, What an anatomy you have… Archons!" — He has such a tart whisper that butterflies fly in your stomach…

"You will do what I tell you, right?" —After a pause, you barely shake your head in agreement "Wonderful, my dear. Listen to elders, be a good girl,"

He exhales onto your skin, languidly, completely depravedly, — "How long do you think you'll last? Two? Three times?" — You sob pitifully into Dottore's shoulder, his dexterous fingers keep a clear and almost fast pace on your clitoris, and you are sensitive, especially because of trust. It appeared with the advent of experiments - after them He treated you carefully, honestly. He always felt sorry for you, all this is just for science, you help your beloved, you are ready to do anything for him. It's a pity, it seems so only in a fit of bright emotion.

"We will do everything so that you leave here on shaking legs, okay?" — Playfulness and craving in his tone, especially to warm you up. You feel the rush of pleasant sensation characteristic of an imminent orgasm. There was no need to say anything else, the first extravaganza hit you with a terrifying suddenness. Your fingers turned to stone, clutching the Doctor's robe, your breath caught, you barely breathe, receiving your well-deserved portion of all-consuming pleasure. You whine piteously, throwing your head back, listening to Dottore's approving hum.

What kind of reaction is this? Naturally, an orgasm that will overtake you too quickly to resist the feeling even a little. Dottore sees everything perfectly well and therefore, instead of brazenly interrupting your pleasure, he connects his long tongue, invading your warmth, making you literally jump on the chair, Dottore gently held your hips, forcing you to stay in place. After another thrust of his tongue inside you and massaging your clitoris - quickly brought you to the cherished climax.. You fell tiredly on the chair, throwing your head back.

"A successful and precise position of the fingers, foreplay and its continuation - the best mixture for getting an orgasm.. Don't you think so, darling?"

You should catch your breath for a minute, your partner patiently strokes your thighs, allowing this. He kisses somewhere behind the ear, since you are still hugging him. It's so strange, remembering the past, the end overtook you rarely in the company of a partner… Did the advantage of the profession work, or something else?

"Everything is fine?"

"Yeah… For some reason I feel so ashamed," - Ashamed.. It's because Dottore, during your work, said that sex and the caresses that come from it are disgusting. You generally thought that you would never get such a pastime from him, but fate decreed otherwise.

"No need to be ashamed. I am interested in watching you and participating in your satisfaction," - He cooed as straightforwardly and calmly as always.

"You are probably right. Oh, my leg is so cramped," - You smile embarrassedly and sit up straight, bending and unbending the mentioned part of the body.

"My poor girl, was I too hem, harsh with you?"

His charming voice and the same expression on his face.. And for some reason Dottore still doesn't get up from his knees, still sitting between your depravedly spread legs. You notice this and want to quickly cover your legs together, but Dottore's torso gets in the way.. He notices your nervousness, grins and slowly lifts the mask up.

"Is it okay for you to sit on the floor?" - You adjust your skirt, placing it on your knees.

..

"So we haven't finished our.. little experiment.." His smile is ingratiating, even creepy, he slightly tilts his head up, looking at you with a cloudy gaze, now you can clearly see his red eyes under the slightly raised beak-mask.

"In that case, why should I get up?"

˗ˏˋ ꒰ LABORATORY GAMES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Il Dottore

@anantaru @hitomisuzuya @lavandulawrites @himasgod @neuvigroove @quimichi @rsventhesecondd @anemoswirlsmyheart @nil4everheartz @kujiba @genshingorlsrevengeance @shyentsfoundherink @lavandulawrites @ashyashylee @theoutcastwrites


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6 months ago

Sharing fanfic updates be like

what I think vs what I say meme 

speech bubble text: "I updated my fic, I hope you like it"

inside thoughts text: "I SHED BLOOD SWEAT AND TEARS WRITING THIS CHAPTER AND I SPENT SO MANY HOURS ROTATING BLORBOS IN MY BRAIN I CANNOT GET OVER THESE FEELS AND NOW PART OF MY SOUL IS ON THE INTERNET AAAAAH"
7 months ago
˗ˏˋ ꒰ HIS KISSES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Kinich, Wanderer, Razor

˗ˏˋ ꒰ HIS KISSES꒱ ˎˊ˗ wriothesley, neuvillette, kinich, wanderer, razor

✧ warnings — none <3

˗ˏˋ ꒰ HIS KISSES꒱ ˎˊ˗ Wriothesley, Neuvillette, Kinich, Wanderer, Razor

✧ Wriothesley

Kisses with him smell like green tea with jasmine, night air, shadow, coolness. Kisses with Wriothesley are always a little rough. He likes to bite his lips and then kiss them so as not to leave marks.

Most often, your kisses will go lower. Wriothesley will cover the skin of his neck with kisses, lightly bite, leaving light marks on the skin, like a short memory of your meeting, which should definitely be shown.

✧ Neuvillette

Kisses with him smell like sea breeze, sun and sweet fruits. Neuvillette's kisses are always sensual, quick, short, because there is always evening left for long kisses. And for now… for now they remain stolen somewhere between business and a short break.

Neuvillette will always kiss you tenderly, caressing your cheekbones with his fingertips. His touches to you will be fleeting and gentle, but even when you part, they will burn on your skin for several more hours.

✧ Kinich

Kisses with him smell like roses, fresh leaves and tropical rain. Kinich's kisses are always bold. You will be surprised, How can he be alone. Behind the emotionless exterior are stormy emotions controlled by reason. Kissing you, he will press you against the wall. Your kisses will be like explosive emotions: impulsive and wild.

As soon as you are alone, he will not be as attentive to himself as he used to. And you realized that Kinich likes deep kisses far from the corner of the eye.

✧ Wanderer

Kisses with him smell of the wind, the bitterness of dandelions, freedom. The kisses of the Wanderer are weightless and almost always in spite. He will kiss you during victory.

He leaves a short burning mark on the lips when he cannot say something important, in the hope that you will understand without words. He leaves the most loving,long and passionate kisses at night. he will definitely gently hold your hand when he kisses you.

There will always be depth of feelings in his kisses, because only in this way will he be able to express them fully. More and more often, he will kiss you on the forehead. Goodbye, before bed. And that will mean more to you than anything he could say.

✧ Razor

Kissing him smells like wild berries, thunder and rain. Kissing Razor is a real pain in the ass, because at first he won't understand what the point is. You'll find out that Razor has never actually kissed anyone before. And you'll have to take the initiative yourself.

When you're alone, lost somewhere in the Valley of the Winds, you'll walk closer to him and take his hands.

For a few seconds, you'll look into each other's eyes, and a wave of emotion will flash through Razor's gaze: excitement, fear of failure, completion. Your lips will touch: softly, gently, and you'll feel him shudder slightly from the touch. So unusual, so desirable for him.


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dobbie-doo - ˗ˏˋ ꒰ annastasia ꒱ ˎˊ˗
˗ˏˋ ꒰ annastasia ꒱ ˎˊ˗

꒰ ⊹ ˚ . 18 𝓎.𝑜 / ⁺ 𓈒 ♡ ・𝓇𝓊𝓈/𝑒𝓃𝑔 ☁️ ✧ ˚˖ / ꒰ 𝓈𝒽𝑒/𝒽𝑒𝓇 ˚ ✧. ˚𓈒 𝑔𝑒𝓃𝓈𝒽𝒾𝓃 · ˚

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