This Is Me At Three In The Morning Trying To Find A Normal Fanfic/art With Scara, Where His Canonical

˗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

Yandere Genshin Men Memes

Repost since I managed to delete it

I was bored so I decided to make some yandere genshin men memes(^з^)-☆ (this is just for fun and they’re meant to be silly and stupid)

God this is so dumb＿|￣|○

Masterlist

(Ignore how the fonts are different)

˗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

omg art is so cool!!

happy birthday wanderer ☂️🎈💙

I edited my last fic with the wanderer guys, I removed mistakes, added new sentences, etc. If you are interested, you can take a look!

how to be Child

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

Reblog this with a gif of your Blorbo

If you told a genshin player back in 2020/2021 that this would one day be possible, they'd call you crazy.

HE HOT ASF