☾ —please be sure to read through my BEFORE YOU INTERACT post before u interact with my blog. there you will find my CONTENT RULES and GENERAL INFORMATION
☼ —current fandom(s) of interest are:
-> GENSHIN IMPACT
tags:
#clee.r18 (nsfw content, including asks, fics, hc’s, etc)
#✨thirst.tea (when nsfw hits the inbox)
#✨tea time (used for answering asks)
#clee’s pea brain (random text posts. just talking without saying a word.)
#clee’s.thoughts (random ideas/headcanons about characters and whatnot)
#clee’s fic rec’s (godly writing from other people)
#clee’s.writing (full length fic’s and things of the like)
#clee’s.requests (fulfilled requests)
#clee’s.art (stuff i draw)
#clee’s.drabbles (not full length, only semi-thought out writing)
touya is halfway through his workday, grease up to his elbows, little jumpsuit half undone down to his waist, when iguchi comes in to tell him "someone's askin' for you out here".
he's not sure who it could be, but there's no telling, so he just decides to take a smoke break and wander out of the automotive garage, maybe imagining one of siblings out on the pavement.
but the minute he sees you, he stops. nearly drops his cigarette on a rough, "oh shit."
it's been a while since he's seen you, a year or two, and the packet of paper in your hand can only mean one, bullshit thing.
"nah, nah, nah, i ain't signing any papers," is how he greets you, shaking his head the minute you start up the path with a big, determined frown. touya doesn't run, but he sure twists on his heel and starts back up the path, too, as you start calling out his name.
practically all of his coworkers are watching when he comes back into view, not bothering to hide how nosy they're being. their audience makes you falter just a tad and touya clings onto it; anything to stop you.
"never a good sign when your wife comes to find you at work."
there's a long silence, from everyone. when he looks back at you—at your manilla folder and carefully stapled documents, your petition for divorce—your eyes are heavy and wet, almost the same way they were when the two of you stood in a courtroom, lying about your age in order to pledge until death do you part.
almost. now they're just sad.
from somewhere in the garage, toga calls out a bewildered, "you have a wife?" that makes him feel a way he can't understand, both amused and devastated all at once.
your wedding ring isn't on your finger, but if he stares long enough, he can maybe see the difference in color of your skin, a former tan-line that's begun to fade.
he sold his for stuff he shouldn't have been buying, stuff that ruined him and you and your marriage, a long time ago.
but touya only smiles, and calls back, "yeah, i do."
TW: Reader Doesn't Have A Gender But Everyone Here Is A Melodramatic Lesbian. Live Dove: Tender and Sweet.
Arlecchino has never struggled to find her way to you.
She would have, if she needed to. That was something she prided herself on: her perseverance when it came to all things, her determination when it came to her pursuits – romantic or otherwise. When she was in Snezhnaya, she dreamed each night of crossing oceans and climbing mountains and tearing apart the Tsaritsa and all of her many soldiers with her own monstrous hands if only to win the chance of finding her way back to your side, and when she was in Fontaine, there was nothing – not her duties as a Harbinger, not the fate of her nation, and only very rarely her beloved children – that could keep her away from you. Fortunately (more so for the rest of Teyvat than for her), she never had to go through so much effort.
No matter how distant she might’ve been, you were always in the exact same place: at the right hand of Lady Furina, the only person you would ever cross oceans to be with.
Also, coincidentally, the only person thick-skulled enough not to pay you a second glance.
She found you watching your dearly beloved from your usually crow’s nest; a balcony that overlooked the rest of the venue, your eyes cast downward towards the ballroom and a sickeningly tender smile painted across your lips. As Arlecchino neared you, she could see what you were so transfixed by and weather the wave of nausea that accompanied the sight of Lady Furina holding court with a handful of Fontaine’s elite, her hands moving excitedly as she recited some practiced monologue Arlecchino could only be thankful she was too far to hear. An exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she came to stand beside you, extending a flute of champagne which you gladly accepted. She had invited you back to her manor when she first discovered your fondness for such fine things, practically begged you to sample the finest wines and bourbons in her vast collection, but you only shook your had and told her that Furina would need your held reviewing case files for her next trial, grinning like an idiot all the while. If she hadn’t been so endeared by your smile, she might’ve hated you for how thoughtlessly you dismissed her.
“The orchestra is half-way decent, tonight.” She rested a hand on the crook of your arm, let her head lilt to the side. “Care to join me for a dance?”
Your love-struck smile widened. “No, thank you. I’m saving my first for her.” A quick nod towards Furina, one of her boots now propped on a chair provided by one of her audience members. “She’s been working on her waltz, lately – she only stepped on my feet twice while we were practicing this afternoon.”
You said it as if Furina had plucked the moon from the sky and handed it to you on a silver chain. Arlecchino couldn’t help but scoff. “I have no idea what you see in her. She would starve to death if you weren’t there to remind her to eat.” You sighed wistfully and she took a generous sip from her own drink before going on. “She’s a poor excuse for an archon and an entertainer. If it wasn’t for that judge of hers, she’d have a revolution on her hands in a matter of hours.”
“You’re only saying that because you don’t know her. She might not have Monsieur Neuvillette’s resolution, but she’s not trying to be Monsieur Neuvillette.” For the first time since the start of your conversation, you looked towards Arlecchino and she could’ve sworn the rest of the ballroom ceased to exist. If she’d been a weaker woman, she would’ve fallen to one knee and presented the ring she kept in her breast pocket when she knew she would see you, would’ve drawn her sword and pleaded with you to drive it through her heart, but your attention turned back to your archon and the temptation faded back into more of a wishful fancy than a possible reality. “She’s wonderful, and brilliant, and she makes me laugh. She’s everything to me.” She’d heard you say it a thousand times before, and yet, her heart seemed to break in an entirely new way every time those words – coated in such a saccharine affection – trickled off of your tongue. She was glad she was not a weaker woman, upon further thought; if she was, you would’ve done her in months ago. “I love her.”
She couldn’t help herself. As delicate as she tried to be with you, there would always be a part of her that couldn’t help but twist the knife. “Doesn’t it hurt?” And then, when you hummed for clarification, “Loving someone so incapable of loving you back?”
You let out a breath of a laugh, the noise like windchimes and wedding bells. “I don’t know, Lord Arlecchino.” You glanced over your shoulder. “Does it?”
Ah, there it was.
Despite everything, she’d fallen for a sadist after all.
She let the corner of her mouth curl upward. “More than I could ever say.”
This time, your laugh was more throaty, more full-hearted. “What a sorry sight we must make, too pining romantics mourning lost love at a party.” You paused, straightened. “My first dance is taken, but would it be too much of an insult to offer you my second?”
She moved to speak, to tell you that you could dig your heel into her foot and spit in her face and she would still be able to thank you sincerely for sparing her so much of your attention, but a melodical voice called your name and instantly, you were stolen away by a head of white hair and two mismatched eyes emerging at the top of the nearest staircase, still glowing with the zeal of a performer post-applause. Furina latched onto you with all she was worth; arms wrapping around your own as she pressed herself into your side. “Evidently, you have forgotten your duties to your goddess,” Furina started properly, her little speech already rehearsed to perfection. “Must I remind you that I am always to be the center of your attention?”
“Never, my lady.” And, in an instant, Arlecchino was gone to you, nothing more than a momentary distraction you would not be returning to for as long as Furina held you in her spotlight. “In fact, I believe you still owe me a dance.”
The reminder was unnecessary. Furina was already pulling you back down to the ballroom floor, already spouting off something about how cruel it would be of her to deny such an earnest request from her most faithful servant, about how foolish you are for believing her memory would be so fallible as to forget even the most trivial of promises. With a ragged breath, Arlecchino took up your post, watching dutifully as you were pulled into (what could be called by the most generous of onlookers) a terribly mangled waltz. It was proof of Furina’s fortune that she’d found the only person in Teyvat with the fortitude and patience to be so hopelessly in love with her.
It was proof to your fortune that, even when faced with the wrath of gods, Arlecchino was not one to give up so easily.
:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!yandere!zenitsu agatsuma, mean dom!fem!reader, modern au, spit kink/spitting, finger sucking, light master kink, light oral fixation, spit as lube, dacryphilia, overstimulation, degradation, sadism/masochism, pet name (lamb), fingering (m!receiving), cumming in pants/untouched, referenced stalking.
:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 : 2.2k+
𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓 : 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 : 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐓
Zenitsu kneels at your feet, arms hugging your legs as his wide, brown eyes bore into you through dewy, blond lashes. His gaze is reverent and desperate as if he can’t tear himself away from you. The sight is reminiscent of how a golden retriever would look at its owner, equal parts pathetic and adoring.
‘Pay attention to me,’ his eyes say, ‘Love me,’ they beg, ‘Take pity on me,’ they plead with your own.
These are the eyes of the same man you’d just discovered snooping around your home. There’s something familiar about him as if you’d seen him before.
No, you’d definitely seen him before. All those times you’d felt watched, followed, or hunted.
His hair is the same canary-yellow you’d see retreating in your peripheral when you’d look over your shoulder. Your heart sank into your stomach at the realization that you hadn’t been paranoid after all. Someone really had been out to get you all along and now they’re here, clinging to your legs like a child.
You lower a hand to stroke your fingers through his golden hair in a placating manner, and the simple gesture of affection seems to flip a switch in him. His breathing quickens and he buries his face into your stomach, hugging you tight enough to hurt as he begins to sob. His band-aid-riddled fingers bunch in your shirt as if he’s afraid you'll slip through them if he doesn’t cling.
“You’re touching me… you’re really…” The blond murmurs, his words muffled against your tummy. He shivers and trembles like the sensation is overwhelming, but he shoves his head into your hand anyway, chasing the affectionate caress. “Keep doing it. Keep… petting me, please…”
"I-I'm not dangerous, I swear,” he whimpers with a sniffle and looks up at you, hoping that his doe-eyed gaze would be enough to get you to relent. "I just... I burn for you. Please, just let me stay! I'll do anything! Anything!”
Your fingers tighten in his hair, forcing his head back none-too-gently.
“Ah!” Zenitsu recoils in a mix of surprise and pleasure, not expecting you to manhandle him so firmly. He lets his head be forced back, his eyes still puppy-like, but a faint blush has spread across his cheeks.
He looks dazed, drunk off of your mere proximity. He hardly cares if your touch is rough, just that you’re touching him at all.
You lips curl into a sadistic smirk at this realization.
“Kind of pathetic aren’t you, lamb? If I didn’t find it mildly amusing I might have turned you in to the authorities,” you taunted, entertained by the way his bottom lip trembled. Zenitsu looks up, his face splotchy from tears as he sniffles wetly, his heart pounding with nervous anticipation.
"Lamb?" He croaks, looking up at you through his dewy lashes at the pet name, allowing himself to hope. “Does that mean you'll be my shepherd? My master?"
“Of course you’d focus on that part,” you tsk, though you can’t say you’re displeased at the tears dotting his lash line. Sick in the head or not, he was a pretty crier, and you’d be lying if that didn’t turn you on. “That’s all you’re thinking about; being a dumb, mindless slut for me aren’t you?”
Zenitsu moans aloud at that, cock twitching in his pants. But he frantically shakes his head ‘no’, trying to insist it wasn’t true, cheeks aflame with humiliation.
“Don’t say that! I-I’m not p-pathetic. I’m just–” he warbles, only to cry out as your foot presses against the prominent bulge tenting his pants, calling his bluff in a simple movement.
“What’s this then?” Your self-satisfied sneer and vibrant eyes glimmering down at him make his mind go blank.
“Th-that’s- haaa~ mmh!” His voice trails off into a mewl, and he can’t stop himself from humping himself against the arch of your sock-clad foot. “I’m sorry, you’re just so beautiful. It gets like this whenever you’re around. I’m sorry!”
Your eyes darken with lust at his pathetic display, tongue dipping out to drag across your lip as he wraps both arms around your leg and bucks his hips. Heat pools between your legs, and you clench around nothing.
“Aren’t you embarrassed? Look at how hard you are, and all I’ve done is degrade you. You truly are pathetic,” you laughed, fingers tightening in his hair.
“Ssstop, I’m gonna cum,” he sniffles, teary, amber-colored eyes rolling back and tongue flopping out as his dick gets even harder. “Y-you’re gonna make me cum.”
Zenitsu squeezes his eyes shut and sobs when you take your foot away, humping the air uselessly, chasing friction that’s no longer there. His eyes flutter open at the feeling of your thumb tracing the seam of his lips, and he hums curiously.
“Open,” you instruct, and with minimal hesitation, his lips part. He shudders when your thumb dips into his mouth, stroking over his teeth and tongue. You explore his wet cavern with little regard for his comfort, trading your thumb for your index and middle fingers and purring in delight when he begins to suck without coaxing.
“Good boy,” you crooned, and your cunt throbs at the hopeful, puppy-like look he sends you at the praise.
He suckles at your digits more enthusiastically, gagging cutely when you press them deeper. Despite the tears stinging at his eyes, he lets you fuck his mouth open with your fingers, swirling his pretty pink tongue around them with even pinker cheeks. Desperation seeps into his expression, and you raise a brow, retracting your fingers to let him speak.
“Please kiss me,” he begs, drooling dribbling down his chin from practically blowing your digits. “P-please I’ve imagined your lips on mine so often… Dreamt of how you might taste.”
You hum, tapping your chin as if considering his request. You drag him by the hair up to your level, and he gasps at the sting, though he looks so damned excited when you lean in.
“Open your mouth,” you nearly growl, and if Zenitsu had a tail he’s sure it’d be wagging. He obeys eagerly, parting his lips in anticipation of the hot caress of your lips over his own.
His brows crease in confusion when your finger hooks into his mouth again, holding his jaw open, unsure of why you would need to–
Zenitsu’s body goes rigid when instead of kissing him, you spit directly into his mouth. His eyes cross as your saliva lands on his tongue, and with a startled shout, he cums in his pants completely untouched. The blond convulses and moans out, sounding unhinged as he paints the insides of his pants with white ropes and nearly collapses to the floor. He swallows your spit greedily, and his hands cling onto your waist, blunt nails digging into your hips.
“A-again! Please, spit in my mouth again!” He cries, rubbing his overstimulated cock over your thigh despite the bright sting. “Fuck me, spit on me. I don’t care, just use me!”
You gnarl your fingers in his hair and tug him by it over to the bed, throwing his smaller form onto the mattress in a careless manner. He lands on his belly, with his lower half slightly raised, and the position brings your attention to his round ass. He attempts to pull himself up, only to be shoved back down, and then yanked to the edge of the bed until his legs are dangling off the side of it.
“W-what’re you doing?” Zenitsu whines, nearly choking when instead of answering you yank his pants down his legs. His underwear follows shortly after and he gasps as the cold air hits his cum-slicked dick. But you ignore his throbbing half-hard sex, fully fixated on the cleft of his ass, which you’re quick to spread to get a better look at him. “A-ah! Are you-? Are you really going to fuck me?”
“That’s the idea, got any complaints?” Your hands rove over his thighs, hips, and backside, kneading the heated flesh in your hands.
Zenitsu can hardly believe this is happening, that you’re truly rubbing him down right now. He had fisted his clock to the thought of this very moment for months on end, imagining every which way you’d take him. You’re not as tender as he’d hoped, but even your roughness is intoxicating. You’re throwing him around like a doll, doing with him as you please. He can’t help but lap up all the attention you’re giving him like a starved animal, even if you don’t love him, he’ll settle for this.
Even so, he’s eager to convince you to keep him.
“Please do! I-I’ll make it worth your while, promise! I’ll be the best toy you’ve ever— Ow!” His babbled reassurances are cut off by a harsh spank to his plump rear, and the deranged thing that’s decided you own him only wriggles his ass enticingly in response.
You even hear a choked giggle escape him and you mirror it despite yourself.
You lean in to trail kisses along the red handprint you’d left behind, and the boy erupts with shivers, his cock twitching back to full hardness whilst pinned between his tummy and the mattress. He cries out when you spit on his taint, his entire body jerking at the warm, wet sensation of it dripping down his hole.
Your finger follows the wet trail, pressing down on his rim. He startles like a spooked rabbit, a clipped ‘Eep!’ tumbling out of his drooling lips.
“Has anyone ever touched you here?” You drawled in an amused tone, forced to admit you were quite taken with the shameless blond now.
He shakes his head rapidly but grinds his ass back onto your fingers enthusiastically, brown eyes nearly heart-shaped as strains to watch you touch him over his shoulder, “Just you, master.”
You press a slicked finger he’d drooled on earlier into him and he arches, mouth agape at the sensation of being filled. You fuck him open with one digit for a while, and then two, and the stretch makes him whimper, “Hurts.”
“Relax, lamb. It’ll feel better soon, it’ll feel really good. You trust your master, don’t you?” You comfort him in a soft tone, mesmerized by the ways he clenches around your digits.
He nods quickly, and even as he moans that it ‘hurts’ his oft keeps trying to pull you in deeper. Yes, master knows what’s best for me.
He doesn’t quite say it aloud, but his body relays the message well enough.
Soon you’re fucking him open with three fingers, and the small thing can only writhe, moan, and drool against the sheets of your bed. Your scent is all around him, your fingers deep inside him, your voice guiding him along toward his orgasm like a lover would. He’s ascended to heaven surely, and you’re an angel picking him apart.
Your fingers brush over his prostate and he nearly wails, delirious tears streaming down his face, choked praises and gory promises to always protect you spilling out of him.
He’s close, so so close but he needs more from you.
“Y/nnn, my love. Please spit in my mouth again. Need all of y-yo-ou insiiide me!” Zenitsu begs, voice already hoarse from screaming his lungs out in pleasure.
He’s sniffling and sobbing so hard it’s a wonder he can speak at all through the hiccups.
Something about his pathetic cries resonates with you. Here this stunning man was, clearly ill for you, begging you to desecrate and disrespect him. Treating your spit like it’s a blessing. He deserved better than you, or maybe you were perfect for one another in your fucked-upness.
You slide your fingers out and turn him over into his back. You crawl up his body, his hands grabbing at every part of you he can reach. Your clothed cunt presses against his flushed-red and leaking cock, and he keens at the feeling of your slick soaking through onto him. When your finger hooks into his mouth again, he’s quick to open it, anticipating your spit.
Instead, your lips find his own.
His limbs lock up, blunt nails digging into the flesh of your lips as he frantically humps against your pussy for a few more agonizing seconds. In the end and then he cums so hard it feels a little like dying. He lets out a strangled moan into your mouth, happy tears pouring out of him as sticky ropes spill out over his twitching abdomen.
It feels so good he can do nothing but cry and cling, hoping to god he won’t wake up to find it’s all been a dream. But when he comes to, all he can see, smell, and hear is you. A tired, dumb grin spreads across his face.
“You kissed me,” he rasps stupidly.
“So I did,” you replied resolutely.
“I was wrong before, about you being my shepherd. I think you’re more like a hungry wolf,” Zenitsu sighs, eyelids drooping sleepily. He fights to keep his eyes open, to look at you a little longer. “You’ll eat me alive.”
“You seemed keen to let me gobble you up a moment ago,” you teased, grinding your cunt down on his oversensitive cock.
“Mercy on your lamb, please!” Zenitsu cries, squirming away from the friction this time. “Too much!”
“My lamb?” You ask with raised brows.
He looks a much too demure when he replies, “I was only ever yours. I don't care if you string me along. You can lie to me, pretend you love me. I'll be your stupid little helpless lamb, just never leave me."
guys i totally didn’t spend $15 on genshin last night after swearing i would never spend a penny on that game again. and i totally didn’t end up getting the wrong weapon after spending this money. and i’m also absolutely not tempted to drop $50 just so i can get this weapon since i have it guaranteed and i’m in too deep to back out. guys. guys i’m not going to. guys i swear—
i was impulsive and spent all of my wishes on the weapon banner 😔 i didn’t even get homa i got neuvillettes weapon 😔 does this mean i pull for him too?
(also saw someone headcanon that period blood gets demons drunk before 😭 now I'm thinking about pussy/blood drunk muzan)
purring so loudly rn. that man already loves to eat pussy, and if he’s also getting a meal out of it all the better. muzan doesn’t really need to feed this way anymore but he’s addicted to your blood, and your cunt so why wouldn’t he sink down to his knees and mouth at you?
he’ll even try to convince you if you’re on the fence about it, cus why doesn’t he think it’s gross? but he’ll remind you that he’s a demon, that he knows what he wants, that the orgasms he’ll give you will make the cramps go away, that he’ll be such a good pet for you. that last part in particular would convince me because he’s usually so insistent that he isn’t your pet.
desperate muzan eagerly lapping at your blood and slick with his eyes all dazed and glazed over…
teaching shouto how to kiss with tongue... he gets so into it... his mouth is open all the way and it's so messy. so much spit and saliva as you suck on his tongue and and guide him through it. gets him so fucking hard he's nearly light-headed, can barely open his eyes all the way. he's so turned on he starts moaning into it... wanting more but he's not even sure what. all he can think about is how good your mouth feels and how soft you are and how much he likes when you grab his face
Obsessed with the concept of a character who has never been treated kindly or gently in their life (or in a very long time) and suddenly being treated gently and with care and being stunned and then overwhelmed by it.
gojo would be slightly humbled but mostly so so so into being used by you
i think he’s so smug about it the whole time too- wondering how long it takes to break you; and when he realizes how serious you are, settles back on the bed with his hands gripping anything he can touch.
trying to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head, watching the way his cock comes out wet and sticky from you- reduced to biting his lip, focused on nothing but you and how pretty you are. wondering if this is the closest he’ll ever get to heaven. and even he knows how cheesy the sentiment is. but it’s true, wipes the ever present smirk on his face so quick when you’re cumming, letting his face fall- eyes lidded n wet, eyebrows peaked up in the middle. trying to spit out quips but they’re all broken with every bounce of your body on his hips.
falling silent, a moot point; cause deep down he just wants to take it.
and when you spit out to just,
“shut up.” he has to squeeze his eyes shut, body clenching while he cums so deep and hard it makes him dizzy.
i’m not saying that there is something kinda hot (and sick and twisted) about finding that little broken sword dummy, and maybeeee using it in ways it was def not meant to be used.
and i’m def not saying that MC potentially being a bit of a tinkerer results in the ancient mechanism coming out with one or two new appendages. and, you know, maybe a conscienceness .
and it’s not that a conscience just appeared, or that it came to your home with this purpose in mind, but with these new mechanisms and environments and sensations, it—he starts to become more aware, starts to think in things outside of sword technique and training, until one day he finds himself fantasizing about the lonely little weirdo who stole him, who fixed him up, gave him a home outside of the wailing storms and pounding hail. he knows he’s not supposed to be alive, but he realizes he doesn’t want to go back to being a training dummy anymore. especially when his little owner is so cute and pretty, and they make such strange sounds in the middle of the night, can never seem to look him in the eye come morning.
anyways yeah. i’m not saying anything. not saying a word.
i’m still thinking about this because i’m obsessed with shy MC whose internally so deranged, that when the boundary within the relationship they have with this mf-ing machine is crossed, the freak shit rlly comes out.
like, they’re jumping that poor dummies bones the second they come home from work. forcing him into positions that make the mechanisms inside of him strain, and creak—groaning and moaning where his voice cannot.
he always comes out needing a few more repairs, but MC is more than happy to fix him up after they get a little too rough with him, and it’s not like he’s complaining either. anything to spend more time underneath his lovely owners kind eyes, working him back together again as easily as they can take him apart <3
