Holy Fuck You're A Black Washer... Go To Hell With The Rest Of The Racists Of The World, You'll All Have

Holy fuck you're a black washer... Go to hell with the rest of the racists of the world, you'll all have fun together

Imagine being this mad about literally anything on the Internet. Go outside, babe, you need it.

Yandere! Whitney would definitely be a type that I haven't delved into before, but one that I would love!

Vrel said that Whitney and Sydney are both characters that have yandere potential. He said that Whitney would be the most violent as a yandere, but that Sydney would be the scariest, he refused to elaborate further.

Hello everyone, thanks to @allfearstofallto 's tag earlier I felt challenged and needed to prove myself as a filthy Diluc fucker. Also the idea smacked me in the face while driving home from work so ENJOY!!!

(⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪ MDNI AS ALWAYS!! \⁠(⁠๑⁠╹⁠◡⁠╹⁠๑⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♬

Imagine begging, pleading with Diluc to be completely unshaven the next time you're intimate together. He's unsure why you would ask him to do such a thing but the moment you've got his entire cock in your mouth, nose buried deep in the wild crimson curls that decorate his pubic mound, inhaling sharply as you take in the deep musky smell of him. You're already forcing yourself to breathe through your nose to the very best of your ability to suppress your gag reflex as much as you can and the feeling of your warm breath fanning against his hair and skin makes every muscle below his navel quickly become taut as a bowstring.

You may be breathing but he can't seem to remember how.

As suddenly as you pull away from him, a gulp of air inflates his lungs. You pull back enough to press a chaste kiss to his flaming red tip before taking him down your throat again, making sure to look up at him as you swallow around him. And oh how delicious he looks, all splayed out, wild carmine locks spread across the pillow, thick forearm drape across his eyes, mouth wide open as he pants and lets out the most beautiful groans and cut-off, broken whimpers. Grinning around him you set to work. Lapping at his shaft, trailing your wet tongue up and down, feeling him tighten up even further as you trace every single bump and vein beneath his milky skin. Mischief soon rushes through your veins as you trail your tongue down to his balls before gently taking one in your mouth. The sensation electrifies his spinal column and makes one of his knees pop up next to your head. A wicked grin crosses your lips as you wrap your arm under his leg, caressing the tense muscles of his thigh, enjoying the coarse feeling of his leg hair ticklish under your fingertips. You press a kiss to the base of his throbbing cock before pushing your nose into the tightened space between his testicles, firm though gentle as you press the tip of your tongue into his taint. His hips jolt forward as if to escape the startling sensation but you know better. You know it's his desperate attempt at feeling the pleasure all the way through to his tip.

You eased your way back up so that you could wrap your lips around his shaft once more. Diluc tried to straighten his leg out again but you doubled down, holding his powerful leg in the crook of your elbow. He wasn't getting off that easily. Once you were back in position your pace was relentless, hot wet mouth sliding up and down your tongue working around however much of him was in your mouth at the given moment. The deep gutteral groans and growls coming from the young man beneath you were probably similar to those he lets out as he wields his claymore to protect your home. But right now all those powerful muscles flexed and relaxed with his quickly impending orgasm. Hell he thought about fucking your face but it was all for naught. You were there the one fucking your face his his heft cock. As you noticed one of his hands gently tangle in your hair and his breathing become more irregular, he did his best to warn you.

"Cl-Close.... Fuck... So close...."

The precious way the ever powerful Diluc, the uncrowned king of Mondstadt himself, spoke in such gentle broken tones before letting out the softest whimper as you took him all the way down your throat sent waves of pleasure through your own body. It wasn't long before he was shallowly thrusting himself past your lips, cumming so hard his body trembled and his eyes filled with stars the same moment your mouth was filled with his familiarly bitter taste.

His chest heaved up and down, sweat causing his bangs to stick to his forehead and the mix of sweat, saliva and cum matting his pubic hair to his groan was quite possibly the best reward you'd ever received for working so hard. You made sure he watched as you swallowed every drop of the cum he'd so kindly gifted to you. You let his raised leg finally relax against the soft cotton sheets of your shared bed before pressing a gentle kiss to his inner thigh that made him flinch in slight overstimulation.

He looks down at you, finally starting to catch his breath before waving you close. You happily crawled upwards, nuzzling your face into his broad chest before finally giving him a proper kiss. He'd spoil you just as thouroughly in a minute, he simply needed a moment to catch his breath.

Scaramouche ❄️❄️

I've had a very fun and fruitful conversation with @allfearstofallto and she had some very strong reactions for a story about yandere Diluc and Tartaglia that has been marinating in my mind for a while now. I'll just give you a brief version of my idea.

You and the 11th Fatui Harbinger are to be wed. With your freedom stripped away from you and with your wedding date fast approaching, you are working tirelessly to escape the Harbinger's grasp.

However, even with your freedom stripped away, even if you have no autonomy on your own, there's an inkling in your heart in which you cannot hate your captor. He is far too kind and gentle towards you, the way in which he treats you makes your heart swell with a plethora of emotions.

But enough is enough.

You need to leave. Fast.

One evening, you act sweeter, more submissive than usual. Your fiancee eats it up and is delighted by this change in attitude. His happiness is evident because now things can proceed without a hitch. Don't worry darling, you won't be anywhere near his work. He'll keep you safe, fed and loved.

All he asks in return is to be in your heart. Love him. Love him, please. It's a hard request, a selfish one even, he knows this.

He can make it up to you. He can and he will.

He promises.

You kiss him in bed, telling him that you understand. Your eyes shift towards the hidden suitcase in the corner as you feel the drugs start to kick in. Tartaglia is fast asleep, and you finally taste the sweetness of freedom.

The man wakes up the next morning in a daze. The bed is empty and cold.

His heart shatters into a million pieces. He roars out your name like a wounded animal, his throat sore and bleeding from the pain.

He must find you.

Meanwhile, you made your way towards the City of Freedom.

You settle in, find a job, a place to live in. It's hard but you manage.

You ignore the lingering presence that you feel behind you when you're alone at night. You're making it all up, you keep telling yourself.

No one is following you.

One evening, you enter a cozy tavern. You order a drink and it is prepared by a handsome, albeit stoic bartender. You manage to get him to open up. He introduces himself as Diluc, the owner of the fine establishment in which you sat in.

How neat.

Due to various different factors, after a short while Diluc takes you in. He is patient and strict. It's an improvement.

You don't know about his ever growing obsession with you. You don't know about the endless sea of portraits he has of you. He keeps it all hidden well under wraps.

Regardless, Diluc is still only human. It's only natural that his jealousy would bubble up and rear in its ugly head from time to time.

Dawn Winery is in a way, forced to attend a massive social gathering. Diplomats from the North are everywhere and, of course, Tartaglia spots you in the crowd.

Even if his eyes were to be plucked out, he would always manage to recognize you.

Tensions rise and the danger of bloodlust reeks in the air. Much to his chagrin, Childe cannot simply just kill Diluc and be done with it.

He is being forced to play Mr Nice Diplomat.

Oh the horror, being stuck between these two.

Now, since this has the potential to be long as fuck, I was thinking of making it into a multiple part story. The best name I could come up with it so far was "A Song of Ice and Fire". I'm open to title names, if someone has better ideas. An important note to add would be that this would be a serious commitment for me as I haven't done a story like this in years. Chapter updates would probably take me a long time due to my job and potential lack of energy, but this idea has been in my brain for years now, which is a clear sign that I'm passionate about it. And, my question is - would you like for me to make this story come to life?

red eyeliner