Latest Posts by dobbie-doo - Page 2

˗ˏˋ ꒰ YOU ARE A LIGHT OF EYES OF MINE꒱ ˎˊ˗ ballader / wanderer

you are a ray of light in his impenetrable darkness..

✧ warnings — mention of angst, fem ! reader, doomed relationship, mention of organs. ✧ a/n — sorry for the absence, i was busy writing part 3 of the fic with yandere scara) but for now enjoy a little angst ( BRUUH I will delete this shii tomorrow 💀)

must listen with .. A Little Death – The Neighbourhood

Scaramouche had been stabbed in the back three times, but only after the third time had he finally learned not to expose her to the blow, but to strike first. It was easy to hate people - easier than he had initially thought. Vicious, petty, deceitful and infinitely selfless in their desire to prolong life at any cost, even when it was devoid of the slightest sense… They worshiped the Gods with the most sincere faces, and then sinned with selfless rapture. They smiled kindly, showered pleasantries as if they were gold coins, but each time they began to swear as soon as they realized that there was no longer any need for pretense.

And that made it even more disgusting to realize that some part of his non-existent puppet soul continued to stubbornly strive to acquire this very notorious "humanity". The emptiness where the ribs should have been itched and burned - and he hoped to fill this hole with someone else's blood, pain and suffering.

Killing people is also simple - simpler than he initially thought. They have fragile bones, soft skin and hot hearts that beat in his palms in the last dying fit with quivering clots of bloody flesh.

But the Balladeer did not see beauty in human hearts - slippery, disgusting to the touch and foul-smelling. Disgusting even from an aesthetic point of view. He sincerely tried to discern something in them that would arouse at least a bit of interest in him, but stubbornly did not find it. Or he simply desperately did not want to notice anything, in order to finally convince himself that imitation of people is a waste of time, effort, not worth its cost.

The Electro Archon puppet is created to be the perfect vessel for the Deity. He is above people by right of his birth, by any other right that exists. Electro Gnosis alone will be more than enough to replace some pathetic piece of flesh that drives blood through the veins.

The divine doll Electro Archon was hardly interested in the human body in such a… vicious and obscene aspect.

If he had no need for food, water, or banal rest, then for bed games - and even more so! And did Raiden think about such functions of the puppet organism, creating it…

But when he found such an innocent and bright creature as you, somehow managed to change his opinion about the human race. Hah.. In all his 500 years, he could not even imagine that a creature like him would so tenderly embrace, so passionately kiss and speak such sickeningly sweet words to some human maiden…; he always considered human feelings so alien and forgotten for him, Its uch an unearthly and alien feeling for him… so wrong, but so pleasant… It's as if you're dispelling his bitterness with your sweet taste.

He had no idea how he allowed some girl like you to cross the dangerous line and get so close to him.. Although he does not regret anything. But sometimes he thinks that it was better to kill you then than to break your fragile, like crystal soul into a thousand pieces… He initially understood that your attachment to him was a mistake. A terrible mistake.

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

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

fr

BLEEEH

Reblog this with a gif of your Blorbo

˗ˏˋ ꒰ YOUR GENTLE MADNESS꒱ ˎˊ˗ scaramouche

pt I - pt II - pt III

scaramouche takes you from this vicious, dirty world into his arms, twisting, tying, shackling you and not letting go.

✧ warnings — unhealthy attitude, forced affection , angst, singer ! fem ! reader , kidnapping , coercive relationship. ✧ a/n — two more chapters + epilogue are planned. The next one will be a terrible mess, I don’t advise those who are particularly impressionable to read it! So that later somebody don’t complain about me.

He takes you away from the dirty world without a twinge of conscience, and has no plans to give you back.

You follow him like an obedient dog, barely breathing and not raising your eyes from the ground. Scaramouche's fingers squeeze your wrist loosely, carefully, but it still seems to you that your hand is numb and trembling from his grip. He notices your shaking hand out of the corner of his eye and sighs, forcing a smile.

You have time to examine the small Inazuma house you entered and the gloomy hallway, and he pulls you further. He walks you to the very door of the bathroom and only then lets you go and leaves you alone.

And only then does all the horror wash over you like a wave.

You are heartbrokenly silent, feeling that you cannot force yourself to utter a sound. Convulsively open the tap and wash the blood from your wrist and palm. The sound of rushing water makes you feel sick, your eyes water, and you close them, forcing yourself not to cry. You peer into the reflection, wash the burgundy stains off your cheeks, and close your eyelids again. You calm

yourself down with difficulty and even out your breathing.

You gather your thoughts and with titanic calm on your face, you enter a small living room in the Inazuma style, where you find Balladeer.

"What next..?"

You try, however, to make your voice sound confident, but it turns out to be hoarse to the point of disgrace, which makes the harbinger laugh.

"It's obvious, sunshine, you will live with me."

He grins. You are covered in frost, and your whole face acquires hard features. How unbroken, stubborn, strong you want to seem in the eyes of the harbinger brings him to tenderness. You hide all your fear behind sarcasm and irony.

"Pha, the last thing I wanted in my thrice-wanked life was to be held captive by some megalomaniac."

You respond sharply, to which he smirks, surprised by your ability to be sarcastic, he does not even respond to your remark and insult. Scaramouche closes his eyes and folds his arms over his chest, shaking his head like a disappointed parent.

It seemed like you wanted to add something, but you turn around and leave. This amuses Balladeer even more. It is hard for him to imagine how gray and atrophied his century-long existence was before you appeared. Now, after each Fatui task, after a trip to Snezhnaya for the sake of a meeting, after completing another stage in becoming a God, when he returns to you, Scaramouche is met by the cold gleam of your eyes, and the strands of your hair braided by his own hands.

The first few days you look like a ghost. You hide, barely move, and keep your mouth shut. Fear crawls under your skin and tickles your ribs - fear of pain, fear of loneliness, fear of the unknown. You keep waiting for something merciless, restrictive, perverted, but Scaramouche does nothing and only occasionally catches your silhouette with his gaze.

Scaramouche is not one to wait patiently when he has every opportunity to take his own immediately. But he gives you time, like a merciful deity.

"You're late. I was hoping you wouldn't come back,"  You can't help but let out a rude retort. The harbinger walks into the kitchen, taking off his hat, leaning against the door frame, and says sarcastically, drawing out the words: "Oh, look,voice has already emerged huh?"   

You grimace, burning your hands with a cup of hot tea. "What's new, other than you were worried about me?"   

"Me? Worried about you? Don't flatter yourself"

You grin, the puppet knows exactly which weak points to press so that you react, transform, become softer.

"What's new about being cooped up inside?" You raise an eyebrow skeptically and chuckle, leaning back in your chair. "I created a new salad recipe from what I found, meditated, and developed a speech, coming up with fifty epithets for your name. I'll make a song out of it." 

"It's so sweet that you thought of me, I would have listened," - He squints slyly and goes to the countertop to make strong, bitter tea. Bitterness with the taste of bitterness. He himself hides his usual cynicism, as if pushing needles back under the skin. He is irreconcilably drawn to this barely familiar feeling.

Your mutual mockery is diluted with calm conversations about something personal and everyday, sometimes you talk about the past while he braids your hair into a light braid (and you, initially, did not agree). You relax a little, almost get used to it and begin to notice how non-committal and calm Balladeer can be. It seems that he does not need anything at all, except your presence and involvement.

The false sense of security becomes too clear and all-encompassing. You convince yourself of the falsity of this feeling, beg yourself to be stronger and more stable, but inevitably you open up and respond to the most obvious manipulation of the harbinger.

You can't do otherwise. Otherwise, you'll just go crazy from loneliness in a cage. And is it possible not to think about how truly good Scaramouche can be when signs of a peculiar silent care are embedded in your consciousness: You'll find a blanket in your room: the harbinger knows for sure that you're freezing at home in particularly windy weather and therefore love everything warm, you bury yourself in the blanket and do something. Or in the morning you'll see a still-hot mug of tea with your favorite flavor on the kitchen table: the harbinger has accurately calculated the time of your rise and food preferences.

It throws you off balance. You have to pull yourself away and replay the images of what happened in your head over and over again. You remember he's a murderer, right? You remember his hands covered in someone else's blood and that guy's sclera? (The sclera is like the eye who dont know)

Now will you drink tea brewed by these hands? Or wrap yourself in a blanket bought after another murder? 

 Yes...

You should have felt disgusted, but no matter how hard you tried, you didn't feel anything close to that. But you felt how his cruel, dark image, invented by you, was breaking into pieces and becoming better in some ways, more ideal in many ways. To a pleasant surprise. You once again take a mug and sit down in an armchair in the living room, covering your legs with a blanket. On a nearby table, you find a book in a red hard cover with ornate silver patterns.

 "All sorts of synonyms to enrich speech." And, to your horror, you smile sincerely and laugh infectiously at his mockery.

"I need to go to the market square," you casually drop, combing your hair in front of the mirror. Late evening has crept up unnoticed and settled on the window panes with the night darkness and howling wind, too similar to someone's helpless crying. Scaramouche is distracted from some inazuma book and looks at you, or rather at your reflection in the mirror.

"For what?"

You sigh in irritation and, without turning around, answer sarcastically: - "Let me remember what a retail space might be needed for. If my memory serves me right, to buy something!"

"Oh, and have you forgotten how to open doors?" - You wind your eyes in surprise, stop combing your hair, putting the comb aside. In the reflection of the mirror you see his casual look. - "Go and buy some."

Scaramouche is not one of those who willingly respond to all requests. And yet Balladeer allows you too much. Generously provides independence, does not constrain movement, loosens the invisible noose. - "But for this liberty you will sing to me," he smiles playfully, baring his incisors, and squints. You suppress a dismissive laugh and, without trying to hide the lie in your words, echo:

"of course..! "

Scaramouche catches that this means never, and laughs. How sharp you are. You see in the reflection how his features soften, take on shades of innocence, and so he freezes between two extremes. You exhale through your open mouth and hold your gaze on him longer than necessary.

Threads - into knots, knots - into nets, and in them only to get entangled and to sink to the bottom. No balance and equilibrium.

You scrape your tongue against your teeth and force yourself to come to your senses while Scaramouche "unties your hands."

And, as it turns out, in vain.

be ready..

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

˗ˏˋ ꒰ YOUR GENTLE MADNESS꒱ ˎˊ˗ ballader/wanderer

pt I - pt II

Scaramouche loves you - incorrectly, abnormally. As if he were putting out cigarettes and licking burns, breaking your bones and knitting them in his own way..

✧ warnings — singer ! fem ! reader, dark content, stalking, dead (not reader ofc), unhealthy attitude, angst, psychological abuse n some yandere shit . ✧ a/n — I want to portray it not as psychopathological madness, but as selfishness and tenderness in one bottle and control of emotions over actions. On the victim's side, there is a heavy contradiction, doubts and Stockholm syndrome.

Enjoy and be careful reading!

Scaramouche is not one to sacrifice his time, running through the shadows of alleys and trying to be more attentive for the sake of a foolish mortal girl.

Someone inside him laughs sarcastically - a pathetic lie.

This is exactly what the harbinger does. At first, quietly, completely unnoticeably, he watches from afar, being carried away by the color of your eyes, or the shimmering ringing scattering of your voice. Scaramouche catches with his gaze the girl's half-smile, the sliding gait and the heap of unruly hair, braided into (your hairstyle)

You appear every shift in different corners of the island of Narukami and the main city, one way or another near the village of Konda, and for a long time you sing intricate tunes with a fairy-tale flair, while you are showered with mora

The balladeer finds it as pitiful as it is natural, because the ringing of the coins, their shimmer and shine when they are next to your slender legs, dressed in attractive stockings, all merge with your shining skin, your alluring eyes and interesting appearance, with an image worked out to the last detail.

A well-planned show. And one cannot help but notice how you, seemingly opening up to people, while your gaze is just as cold and far from participation, preserve your mystery.

Your little mortal soul sees him for the first time out of the corner of its eye and does not even attach any importance to it. He, leaning against the wall in a large hat and dark clothes, is erased from memory like a haze on the surface of the water. And Scaramouche can no longer deny himself the mischief and get to your hidden essence.

And more to come. He follows on your heels, finds you in all parts of Inazuma.

With each subsequent day, the harbinger appears more often. Now you can't just forget him, and now you allow yourself to watch him back, squinting invitingly as you shower everyone with your beautiful voice, moving to the music on stage. He smiles slyly back, a silvery glint in his gaze. You mistake it for curiosity.

Scaramouche is really trying to be gentle with you. As much as he can.

The lanterns are lit in Inazuma as you finish your song and, to the satisfied hum of the crowd, you gather your mora, disappearing between the houses and exiting the city onto the main path. His voice bounces off the expanses of Teyvat in a dull echo.

"Aren't you afraid of running into a wild kitsune at such a late hour?"

"What? Feel like keeping company?" - You immediately slyly respond to his mockery.

To all the sarcastic comments and stinging reproaches, you willingly echo him in the same way. Puppet laughs to himself: it is so funny that you perceive his words as a challenge.

Y/N…

Your name spills on his tongue like a viscous, bitter molasses.

And it is the only name in his entire life that he will carve into his memory until bloody scars.

Scaramouche is not one to place such a high value on mortals.

However, he understands that he is not so much captivated by your mischievous eyes or your melodious voice, as by all of you.

"I visited Ritou recently," you say casually.

Balladeer of course, knows.

You turn to him and slyly pull the corners of your lips.

Inside, Scaramouche trembles as the sun reflects off the chrysalite of your eyes and illuminates your face as brightly as you illuminate his darkness with a smile.

"I met a guy, he seems nice," he tilts his head in anticipation.

"Nice?" He looks falsely surprised.

"Do you really think so, sunshine?"

You shrug. - "His eyes are beautiful, like amber gold."

"It's stupid to play with fire," Scaramouche exhales into your neck, very close. "And don't even try to disappear, deciding to run away."

"I didn't plan to," you grin, but After a long look from Scaramouche, you add: "Okay, okay, I promise not to run away. Any more instructions?" You ask mockingly.

"Don't let yourself be shared with others."

You roll your eyes. You should take this more seriously, but you're too used to this kind of commanding tone from Scaramouche. You, stupid fox, perceive it as a game that tugs at the strings of your soul.

"And where do you even get the right to be jealous.."

Your feigned indifference and arrogance mix with bright flashes of sympathy and traces of embarrassment on your cheeks. You admit to yourself that you like him - not with a passionate hurricane feeling, on the contrary, routinely, but inevitably. This knowledge brings the harbinger to an exciting saturation.

He creeps up on all the bolts of your soul like a predator, and someone else's sincerity is a sweet poison. Help yourself, my dear demons in the dark. Demons willingly accept and ask for more, only everything suddenly falls out of their hands and bursting at the seams, seeing you with that worthless man. Again.

Wasn't he merciful to you?

Scaramouche takes his eyes, as if he were plucking ripe berries from a bush, and crushes them in his hands, melting this amber gold with his icy rage.

He wrings someone else's neck under the screams of the victim and your frightened look.

He is not one to forgive a mistake.

And despite this, puppet gently cups your face in his palms, leaving bloody streaks on your skin, and says irritably:

"I warned you, didn't I?" You look at him nervously and see nothing but blood stains and cruelty. You can't breathe in or out.

"Oh, so you can't say a word because you feel guilty?" Scaramouche adds caustically. His fingers slowly, almost lovingly stroke your cheeks, but you feel nothing. You yourself seem to be at the bottom, completely lost. You stop feeling your body and are left alone with a visual nightmare and a dry throat.

"I," you exhale with titanic efforts. "got it."

"I won't do it anymore.." You forcefully pull the words out of yourself as if with pliers.

"Ha-ha-ha!" His laughter, sincere, condescending, the kind that happens when a child does stupid things, thereby amusing you. You glance sideways and see behind Scaramouche, the lifeless body of a familiar guy. You feel nausea approaching.

"Don't act like an fool,little one, it doesn't suit you. We both know that I can't trust you anymore." You know, but you don't want to believe it. How could this happen? How could you cross paths with the wrong person. How could you — feel lovestick to him — how?!

Scaramouche brushes your hair away from your face, smearing blood across your skin and staining your hair, and peers into your face with his indigo eyes, which you used to look at so lovingly.

"Don't tell me you felt sick from the sight of blood and someone else's death," He sarcastically pulls and rolls his eyes. — "Forget about him and let's go, you look bad."

And he pulls you like an obedient doll. You are scared of what has fallen on you and chained you, but you are even more horrified by the familiar, harmless tone of the harbinger, as if everything is as before. He is just as kindly sarcastic and playful, and you — caustic and sharp-tongued. A stunning symbiosis.

Only the system was initially flawed - Scaramouche never tried to appear kind.

in the third part it will be… tough, it will be really tough.

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

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

✧ warnings — none <3

✧ 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.

m.list/rules

✧ Hello everyone on my acc, before you subscribe to me I want to say and warn that there will be NSFW content here, as well as ANGST, sometimes I will post funny things and pictures from Pinterest / share cases from my life. English is not my native language (in general, I'm Russian girl lol) and I use a translator, so if you find errors in the text, let me know!

┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉┉

WHAT I CAN WRITE

✧ Yandere characters

✧ fem!reader and fem!characters

✧ Dark Content [ Sans the topics listed in the next category. ]

✧ Reader Insert

✧ Gender Neutral Reader

✧ Oneshots/Scenarios/Headcannons

✧ Poly relationships [ why not?]

✧ Fluff/Comfort

✧ Hurt/Comfort

✧ NSFW

✧ Reader with a certain personality trait [ e.g. shy, cold ]

WHAT I WILL NOT WRITE

✧ Suicide. No? just no.

✧ Male Reader. Sorry guys, but I will write exclusively about a female reader.

✧ I will absolutely not write for incest / stepcest, p*dophilia (obvs 💀), scat/piss kink, daddy kink, ddlg, petplay. I will add more based on changes.

✧ I absolutely won't write for any character who carries the appearance of a child regardless of age (ex, qiqi, nahida, etc) cause it's disgusting.

✧ Omegaverse (do I need to explain?)

CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR

[ The names in bold signify characters that I'm most interested in writing.]

──── ✧ GENSHIN IMPACT

✧ al haitham, scaramouche/wanderer, dottore, shikanoin heizou, kaedehara kazuha, aether, dainsleif, kinich, diluc, cyno, zhongli, , kaveh, neuvillette, wriothesley, il capitano, arlecchino, navia , lumine , nin guang , raiden ei.

✧ please feel free to ask questions (if you've followed all my rules)

✧please try to understand, I'm new to writing, assnd serious topics will be hard for me to write,

✧ please be patient, I need a lot of time to write something, and check for errors, and formatting!

✧ I may not go to Tumblr for some time, thereby ignoring requests, this is due to my school debts(..

MY COMPLATED WORKS

✧ ARLECCHINO

burn for me - arlecchino and fem reader 18+

✧ IL DOTTORE

dottore with wife! reader 18+

✧ WANDERER

wanderer ˗ oh sweet girl.. 18+

̗wanderer - yandere

wanderer - that beautiful night 18+

✧ BALLADEER

yandere scaramouche - your gentle madness pt 1 pt 2

scaramouche - you are a light of eyes of mine

✧YOU HAVE ENTERED TEYVAT

you got into teyvat

✧ HEADCANONS

headcanon - his kisses (wriothesley,neuvillette,Kinich,wanderer,razor)

✧ VOICE LINES - ABOUT Y/N

voice lines - about you (wanderer, ayato, tartaglia, albedo, dainsleif)

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SPECIAL COLLECTION NSFW ALPHABET WITH YOUR LOVERS! (the list of characters will be updated)

✧ WANDERER - NSFW ALPHABET

✧ DOTTORE - IN WRITING..

✧ SCARAMOUCHE - NSFW ALPHABET

I do not allow using, copying, publishing and translating my fanfics on other sites!

— hmm..i plan on writing a few fics next week but can't decide where to start first?i'll pass that opportunity on to someone else!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ ───.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ OH MY SWEET GIRL..꒱ ˎˊ˗ wanderer

Wanderer never thought about people in such a vicious and obscene aspect… but as for you, everything is completely different.

✧ warnings — NSFW. fem ! reader, cuniculingus, fingering, xenophilia (reader) , gentle sex, just fluff at the end, ✧ minors do not interact. !! ✧ a/n — my dears, sorry in advance for my English, I wrote everything in my native language and translated. enjoy!

Hah.. Wanderer for all 500 years of life, full of resentment, anger at the whole world and people, he can't even think that he will look with such adoration at a simple mortal girl like you.. so worried about your pleasure, so tenderly stroke and cherish, all this was so vicious.. But so nice, damn nice.

But now, you are awkwardly lying on your small bed, in only stockings with a belt, and the wanderer is hanging over you, without the usual white haori, in only black gloves and a thin turtleneck, a tight-fitting structurally puppet body. So pleasant for your eyes. The wanderer made a cheerful hum when he noticed how you embarrassedly covered your chest with both hands, what a ridiculous innocent gesture.. He thought, grinning, intercepts your thin wrists, lowering your hands to the sides.

"It took me just one second to get a good look at you", - He whispers and you blush again.

"So why be shy when it's pointless?"

You nod hesitantly. The Wanderer closes his eyes, listening to the sensations, and carefully pulls back the fabric of your panties, running his finger along your hot, wet folds. You exhale loudly, digging your nails into his shoulder and barely holding back an intermittent moan when he presses his fingertips onto your most sensitive spots.

"We haven't even started yet, and you're already at your peak."

The Wanderer speaks up again, penetrating you with two fingers, lightly massaging your excited clitoris with his thumb. You moan muffledly, willingly responding to his actions, and try to press as close as possible in order to fully enjoy the moment. Archons…his fingers, how long have you been waiting for this, these fingers are so thin and long, moving so quickly but gently inside you that you want to choke!

"Its just…You…" - You answer on an exhale and scream when he reaches the sweetest point inside you with one sharp movement.

"..The first one who makes you embarrassed literally every minute?"

Not wanting to hear your obvious answer, the puppet pulled you into a short kiss on the lips.

Unexpectedly for himself, the Wanderer gently tucked a strand of your loose hair behind your ear, pulling wet fingers out of you, You whined resentfully when you felt emptiness inside. You let out a light sigh when the Wanderer left an air kiss between your breasts, going down, leading the road of kisses. You nervously watched him, breathing heavily.

"Mhm.."

He left a soft kiss on your pubis, and settled between your spread thighs, looking into your eyes, peering into your face with his indigo eyes that shone under the moonlight, he looked at your face, every hollow to the smallest detail, as if he was seeing it for the last time.. The puppet slightly spread your thighs with two hands in black gloves, his gaze went lower, looking at your warmth, without lust, without any rudeness.

Wanderer let out a raspy sigh, giving you the cold touch of his lips over your stomach and lower, he stopped to kiss your groin before moving lower.

"Haha..So fragile...Adorable"

A soft smile appeared on your flushed face, hearing such words from someone like him was so strange and so foreign, these words and touch.. like a soft breeze enveloping you. The wanderer, staring into your eyes, drinking in your adoration, his tongue darted out, tracing the delicate line of your slit. A soft moan escaped your trembling lips. Emboldened by these sounds, he plunged deeper, swirling around your sensitive clit before exploring the depths of your warmth inside.

He savored every reaction, every shudder and gasp, marveling at your trust. Time seemed to blur as he continued his caresses, alternating gentle circles and firmer strokes. To be honest, the wanderer had never experienced such an intimate feeling for mortals, and now, he did not feel such "arousal". But he did not deny at all that he knew perfectly well how everything was arranged, do you think this puppet does not know how to properly satisfy his woman?..

Lost in the throes of love, he admired the trust and vulnerability imprinted on your face. Never did he imagine that his hands, which were elbow-deep in the blood of innocent and not only people, could bring such delight to someone as refined as you. he gently stroked your sides, devouring you with tenderness and passion. Undoubtedly, his love for you was deeper than the bottomless oceans.

The Wanderer buried his face even deeper in your warmth as if he had devoured the most delicious food (even if he didn't feel hungry), slightly squelching and wet sounds filled your small room, but apparently, this didn't bother the Puppet at all, on the contrary.. He stopped the movement of the tongue and look at you with cloudy indigo eyes, rubbing your sensitive bundle of nerves with his thumb.

"Yes..please don't stop.."

"Oh my sweet girl.."

You rolled your eyes, everything around you became cloudy and dizzy, you threw your head back, allowing yourself the audacity to press your hand to his indigo hair, when the Wanderer settled down again between your spread legs. Your languid sighs changed to loud moans, or rather, even screams?

The puppet slowed down for a moment, hearing such sounds from you, he smiled slightly.. He was used to hearing screams of horror and despair, but hearing screams of pleasure and admiration from you is something completely different. The wanderer immediately increased the intensity of his caresses with his tongue, pushing you closer to the cherished edge.

"Im gonna..O-Ohh"

"Mfhh.."

The quiet creak of your old bed rushes through the room, mixing with muffled splashing sounds, smacking and intermittent moans, squeezing all the space into a vacuum, leaving only the two of you and nothing else. As if the world around does not exist at all, only his icy skin in contrast to yours, wet and hot.

You press your hips closer to his tongue, hold his hair, and scream loudly. How good it is that the wanderer does not need to breathe.

Feeling your fingers unconsciously tighten from the approaching orgasm, you let out a loud, slightly painful cry. The muscles inside you contract, pulsating noticeably, and you throw your head back onto the pillow, trying to catch your breath. The wanderer leaves his tongue on your crotch a little longer, and growls muffled, burying his nose in your pubis. You laugh quietly when he crawls up to you, ruffling your hair and he softly kisses your swollen lips, intertwining your fingers

Wanderer himself, slowly lay down on your chest, right where the youe heart is, which, by the way, is beating very fast. He heard this sound for the first time, before that he could only fantasize about how a human heart beats, so he was in no hurry to get up or disturb this rare idyll for both of you.

"You so loud, it's ringing in my ears..and how are you not ashamed..mm?."

Puppet raised his head and slyly looked into your eyes. You understood perfectly well that you were all disheveled, red, and the puppet felt great and after a while was ready for the second round. Wanderer lightly flicked you on the nose, then laying down on your chest.

"And now let me lie down for a bit. Your heart is about to give away all your secrets, beauty.."

i love him

HEEELP SHES SO PRETTYY AHHH!1!1 (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡