Jade-encased | Yan Ningguang X Reader

Title: Transfer of Ownership.

Pairing: Yandere!Childe x Reader (+Yandere!La Signora).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships, Threats of Physical Harm, and Manipulation.

Childe found you outside, huddled beside a low-burning torch, staring blankly at the ground.

Which, to be fair, was probably the best place you could be. The others had devolved into petty arguing hours ago, and for as many briefings as you’d suffered through on the edge of Signora’s lap, he doubted you’d be able to show the same apathetic tolerance inside of a dark, freezing cathedral, well in view of a coffin only freshly shut. And, of course, it wasn't like there was anything to keep you there, anymore - no hand to catch your hip in a lace-edged grip, no lips to purse and simper as a sweetened voice ordered you, in no uncertain terms, to sit still and keep your mouth shut. Really, part of him was surprised you’d shown your face at all, that you hadn’t taken what you could and fled while the Harbingers were still waiting to see who would make a move first. It was what he would do, if he was in your place. It was certainly what Signora would’ve done, if the roles had been reversed.

But, you were always a timid one, weren’t you? The leash might be gone, but you were still too scared to take off your collar, still more comfortable living under its weight than doing away with it completely.

He'd be lying if he said he minded. Signora trained you well, after all, drilled compliance into you like she was teaching you to breathe.

If only she'd lasted long enough to reap the benefits of such an obedient little pet.

He moved slowly, let you hear his muffled footsteps and snap towards him, your shoulders squaring and your body going tense before you realized he wasn’t Pierro or Arlecchino, that he wasn’t there to drag you back inside just to mumble a few final words to a room of bickering politicians and deafened soldiers. You didn’t relax, but you didn’t scurry away, either, and he was able to take his place across from you, on the other side of your make-shift hearth, the distance between you no great length, but still existent. Signora liked to keep you pressed into her side, if not as far underneath her as she could manage. Childe wasn’t so merciless. Or, he wasn’t going to be so merciless tonight, at least.

“I’m glad to see you,” He started, holding his gloved hands up to the open flame. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely felt cold, but it couldn’t hurt to pretend. “Holding up alright?”

You looked away, your gaze dropping back to the ground. You weren’t, obviously. He could see the redness in your eyes, the fresh bitemarks littered across your bottom lips, the stiffness in the way you kept your arms crossed over your chest, but it'd be better to let you admit to your own distress than try to pry it out of you, as he was sure the others already had. “The Tsaritsa has been kind to me,” You mumbled, by way of response. “Her Majesty and her Harbingers have been very generous in the wake of Rosalyne’s departure. I can't say I'm unprovided for.”

He could only wonder which of the other Harbingers had fed you that line. “That wasn’t the question. How you doing, (Y/n).”

“Badly.” Immediate, hasty, spoken with a sort of begrudging panic that brought a smile to his face before he could drag it down. Luckily, you were already preoccupied. “I mean, I'm fine. Or... I'm sad? I’m not— I don’t think that I’m—” You paused, taking a deep breath. “You knew how she treated me. You all saw how she was. How am I supposed to feel?”

You shifted and something caught the moonlight – a silver band stunted with a single, enlarged ruby. You’d worn it for as long as he’d known you, but he always assumed you’d been forced to, that Signora had made some hollow threat about letting Sandrone weld it to your finger, or asking Capitano to make you one that grows tighter and hotter every time you try to take it off, or something else she’d never actually go through with. Now, you fiddled with it like an old comfort item, running the pad of your thumb over the crimson gem as if you were trying to wear down its edges. “And yet, you’re still here.”

“It’s just…” You turned away, sharply, more out of paranoia than any reluctance to go on. Consider the measures Signora took to isolate to (and the willingness the other Harbingers showed to maintain that isolation in her absence), he might’ve been the first person you’d spoken to sincerely since her death. Or, since she took you in the first place, depending on the kind of relationship you’d had with Signora behind closed doors. “Rosalyne took so much away from me. I don’t know if I have anything left, now that she’s gone.”

He was quiet, for a moment. Just a moment. Childe already knew what he wanted to say, but you didn’t have to know that.

“The weather can be harsh this time of year. In Snezhnaya, I mean.” He nodded towards the cathedral’s courtyard, to the starless sky and the layer of fresh snow. “You should get away.”

That earned a breath of a laugh. “I don’t know where I’d go. I don’t have anywhere to be, without her.” And then, with a pointed look towards the cathedral. “Besides, it’s not as if they’d let me go very far.”

“Not on your own, sure.” He let himself smile, this time, truly smile, hoping the dim light and the harsh shadows would disguise the sharper edges. “But, if you were to travel with another Harbinger, perhaps one stationed indefinitely in the very scenic, very distracting Liyue Harbor…?”

You scoffed, but your expression was more apprehensive than dismissive. A pet, still unwilling to escape its own restraints, but open to the idea of letting yourself be pulled from one lap to another. “And what use would the fearsome Tartaglia have for a grieving spouse in Liyue?”

“Do you honestly think I’m that utilitarian?” You nodded immediately, and Childe chuckled, letting his head lull to the side. “I just think it'd be nice to see a familiar face so far from home. It can get lonely on the other side of the world, and I wouldn’t mind having someone who doesn’t think of me as the renowned, infamous, stunningly brilliant, devastatingly handsome—” He clicked his tongue, bared his teeth. “—and so incredibly fearsome Tartaglia.”

“And, if I was to agree to accompanying you,” Your expression softened, and you adjusted your coat, pulling it over your chest. “When would we leave?”

“First thing tomorrow morning, Don’t worry about packing, either – the Northern Back always treats its guests with unwavering hospitality, and you’ll be on the arm of their most dutiful host.” He stepped around the torch, placing himself that much closer to you. “I’ll let the others know, too. All you need to worry about is getting yourself to the harbor by dawn.”

Your shoulders slumped, your posture losing its rigidity for the first time since he’d first seen you tonight. Since he'd met you. “Thank you, Ajax. I…” He heard the doors to the cathedral open, the sound of footsteps just starting to flow into the courtyard, and you lowered your voice, tilted your head back to meet his eyes. “Honestly, I just want to think about something that isn’t her.”

He only grinned, only draped an arm over your shoulders and pulled you into his side. You brought up a hand, covering your mouth to stifle the small, bubbling laugh that might’ve escaped, otherwise. Your ring came back into view, and he found himself wondering if you would take it off tonight, or when you arrived in Liyue, when you were too distracted to realize it’d been slipped off of your finger. He wondered if you’d let him buy a replacement, or a dozen, or however many it took for you to forget that you’d ever worn anything else.

He wondered if you’d ever take a shining to sapphires, instead.

You’re probably swamped with asks and I’m so sorry to add another but your writing of Venti and the SAGAU real-world AU is so good! If you’re still accepting can we have a drabble of Venti meeting creators parents? Thank you so much and please make sure you’re getting plenty of rest ❤️

Something of a Family Reunion

Thank you very much, but it's only one 1 am, so I think I'll probably be fine for now—

I've actually been trying really hard to avoid using gendered pronouns along with the phrase (Y/n), but I really physically don't think I can get around it this time without making my dialogue choppy, so I apologize for that, reader is also explicitly female here

Warnings: general sagau, mentions of readers parents, mild cussing

-

He had been with you for over a year now.

You knew this was coming.

Things were getting more serious, well it's not as if they weren't serious from day one when he barged into your house and claimed you were a God, but this was a completely different kind of serious.

"My love, I'm almost packed." Venti practically sung, carrying a rather large suitcase as he rushed past you to put it in the car.

Ever since the beginning he had wanted to know everything about you, including all the people you were either related to or chose to hang out with.

You had managed to put it off this long, but you should have known he would have set something up behind your back.

Then again, it was kind of more right in front of your face.

You happened to get a call from your mother, and he happened to answer first, despite the amount of times you told him not to pick up the phone.

Cheerful and smooth as always, never making anything but a good first impression.

You did manage to get the phone back about five minutes later, but the damage had already been done.

You and him were now taking a rather long road trip to get to your parents, no ifs ands or buts about it.

You had felt a strong desire to yell at him after that, stronger than usual at least, but the way that he looked at you, apologetic but beaming.

You knew that he wanted this, and you knew that it was partly your fault for putting it off so long.

As much as you wanted to, you couldn't bring yourself to blame him for it.

You were pulled immediately out of your thoughts as he boomeranged back around, giving you a quick peck before going to grab the last bit of luggage.

You hadn't seen him this excited since he found that sale on wine a few months ago—

The car was finally packed, both of you in your respective seats.

You were obviously driving, leaving Venti to take up the responsibilities that come with the passenger seat.

He was insistent not to turn on the radio, claiming that he was perfectly capable of simply providing music himself for the four hour ride.

You had to give him credit, he did go a solid hour.

When he seemed relatively tired out you decided to just talk instead.

"So, same rules as when we're in public, no 'your grace', none of that 'creator' business, and absolutely no mentions of 'God' when referring to either me or you. And I shouldn't have to say don't mention Teyvat at all."

You two had already gone over this before you left, and after it was decided that you were going to come over about a week ago, but you really couldn't afford any mistakes on this.

"Of course, I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing."

Venti laughed at how you practically rolled your eyes, he really should have been taking this more seriously.

"Well, we're only staying there for a few days, I really should have just booked a hotel." The last part you said more to yourself than him.

Booking a hotel was your original plan before your mom just had to emphasize that they had a spare room, and it would be such a shame not to use it in an opportunity like this.

The idle chitchat between the two of you made the time go by quicker, and before you knew it, you were driving into the same driveway you remembered from all those years ago.

Venti was basically bouncing in his seat, you could see metaphorical stars in his eyes as he practically jumped out of the car.

You got out yourself and physically grabbed him by the shirt to pull him back, he almost fell into you and gave you a confused look.

"Remember what I said." There was warning behind those words, and a promise of something if he didn't heed it.

"Of course my love, I won't mess up, I promise." He gave you a small smile of reassurance, one that satisfied you enough to let him go.

You walked to the door, your nerves climbing higher and higher at every step until they were practically in your throat.

You hesitated for a moment before knocking, giving very serious consideration to just turning around and immediately going back.

It wasn't as if you didn't like your parents, of course you loved them, but this just had 'bad situation' written all over it.

Your hesitation was in vain because the door quickly opened before you even had the opportunity to let out a single knock.

"(Y/n)!" your mother quickly embraced you in a hug before pulling back at arm's length to look you over, "It's been too long, you really should call me more, I've been so worried about you recently you know."

You only managed to let out a nervous laugh. She looked at the same as ever, sometimes you wondered if she would ever look any different.

"Right sorry, things have just been a bit hectic lately." You weren't lying, you just couldn't tell her exactly how much you were telling the truth.

Her eyes drifted over to Venti who stood straight, you assumed to make himself look a bit taller.

She seemed to be taken by slight surprise, her eyes widened ever so slightly before returning to their same inviting look.

You mentally cursed at yourself for only just now realizing that it would be kind of surprising how young Venti looked, could you even manage to convince them that he was over twenty-one when he had quite literally nothing to prove it?

"This much be Venti right? The one I've heard so little about?"

That, of course, was a direct jab at you. You could feel guilt seeping at how secretive you'd been about this whole thing, but it wasn't as though you really had a choice.

"Yes ma'am, it's very nice to meet you, I love your daughter greatly." The sincerity in the way he said it almost caused you to blush.

Your mom just laughed at that, "Well come in, both of you, me and your dad can help you unpack a bit later."

Oh right, your dad...

Venti took your arm in his as you both went into the modest house, although even while being modest it beat the place you were currently living at.

Your dad, who was previously sitting on the living room couch, rose to meet you at the door.

"Well it's about time, and here I thought we might never see you again."

You smiled slightly as you gave him a hug, it had been a while, and you would be lying to yourself if you said you hadn't missed them both.

When you both had pulled away he looked over to see Venti at your side, a brief flicker of a similar expression your mom held crossed his face for a moment, causing your stomach to drop slightly.

"This is Venti, he was the one who set this up to begin with."

Your dad gave him a quick once over, but Venti's smile didn't faulter even slightly.

Instead, he simply extended his hand, one which your dad accepted after a moment of hesitation.

"Nice to meet you sir, I've heard a lot about you."

That was a pretty blatant lie, you never really talked about your parents to him, but you had to stop yourself from laughing at the formal way Venti said it.

'Ma'am'? 'Sir'?? You almost felt the need to compare him to Zhongli.

"Hey," you turned at your mothers voice to find that she was beckoning you to the kitchen, "Come give me a hand won't you?"

You let out a quick "Be right there" before grabbing Venti's arm and physically pulling him with you.

You received no protest from him.

Your mother looked over towards you when you entered, putting down the knife she was using to chop vegetables.

She looked over at Venti, giving him a small smile before hurting you out of the kitchen rather quickly.

"What are you—"

"So, that's your boyfriend then?"

You didn't quite like the way she phrased it, a tone that was on the borderline between accusing and worried.

"And uh, how did you two meet? How much younger than you is he exactly?"

You knew this would be brought up eventually, so you made sure to study your voice before calmly speaking, "He's twenty-one." That number was missing a few zeroes, but you had a feeling they would have an even harder time believing you on that one.

Your mom just pursed her lips, stuck between the option of believing and not believing your statement. It's not as if she had any reason not to believe it, other than his general appearance looking a bit younger than that.

She chose to drop it, walking back to the kitchen as you followed suit.

You both walked in to find Venti meticulously cutting vegetables.

"Oh! God I'm sorry, there's no need for you to do that. I can take care of it."

Your mother quickly rushed in to take the knife, her instincts not to let guest do any work kicking in at high speeds.

"I'm going to go start unpacking while you finish that."

Your mom barely had time to register what you said before you had grabbed Venti and left the kitchen.

You both went out to the car before he stopped you, putting his hands on both sides of your face as he gave you a worried look, "What's wrong? You seem nervous."

You practically laughed at that, "Nervous? Now what possible reason do I have to be nervous?"

His frown deepened at your sarcasm.

Venti pressed a gentle kiss on your nose and gave you a smile, "Don't stress yourself out so much, nothing bad is going to happen."

You wanted to believe him, really, you did. But your outlook on this entire situation was getting dimmer by the second.

"It didn't even occur to me before we got here how young you looked, I told my mom you were twenty-one, what a lie that was."

Venti giggled at that, "That is just slightly off."

You let out of breath as you tried to clear your mind for a moment, to let yourself believe that this would all work out. He stood there looking at you the entire time, eye's filled with such profound feeling.

Venti almost regretted making you come here, putting this stress on you, being the direct cause of it in a way. All he could do to make it up to you was give back to you in this way, to reassure you that he would do everything in his power to make this go well.

After you had calmed down slightly, you both grabbed a few suitcases and moved them inside, you directing him to the spare room.

It was your old room, though it looked nothing like it had when you lived in it.

Once you had finished explaining that this was the room you had spent the majority of your time living here in, Venti's excitement pretty much shot through the roof.

He jumped onto the bed immediately, sprawling out, barely able to restrain his mind from thinking about all times you had laid in this exact spot.

You plopped down next to him and he immediately gravitated towards you, clinging to your waist.

You couldn't help but laugh slightly as you patted his head, allowing him to rest on your lap.

After about five minutes you pushed him off, despite his protests, choosing to open a suitcase and start unpacking instead.

You weren't able to get very far before your mom called you both for dinner.

Another bundle of nerves decided the best resting spot would be directly on top of your chest, because it was getting harder and harder to breathe at the thought of sitting at a table together for roughly an hour with nothing but small talk.

Venti could tell by your facial expressions exactly what you were feeling and pulled you into a hug, giving you a kiss as he whispered how he wasn't going to mess up and remembered everything you told him.

The beginning of dinner wasn't quite awkward as much as it was quiet, nobody seemingly wanting to be the first person who spoke.

Your mother did eventually break the silence, looking straight at Venti while doing so, "So, you've been together for a year right? I don't believe (y/n) ever told me how you two met."

Venti sat for a moment, looking almost as if he was recalling the memory fondly, "Well we met through a mutual friend actually, he introduced me, and I knew as soon as I saw her that I very much wanted to get to know her."

You guessed that some of that was partly true, at the very least your mother seemed to believe it.

"So your name," your dad spoke next, "is it Italian?"

"Yes actually, although I'm not."

You wondered for a second how he knew that, before resigning yourself to the fact he probably wouldn't tell you.

"We're just so glad (y/n) has found someone they like." Your mother cut in, giving that all too familiar patient smile, "We were worried for a while she wasn't ever going to date anyone."

"Mom."

Your mother simply responded by laughing, "It's true, you never really made connections with people easy."

The more that came out of her mouth the more embarrassed you were starting to feel.

"Well, I would never have guessed that, your daughter is actually a very popular person, I know quite a few people that care for her greatly." Venti spoke in a way that was practically laced with praise and good intentions, wanting so strongly to announce you as the most important person in his world.

You simply responded by clearing your throat and taking another bite of the food in front of you.

"So where are you from then?"

You mentally cringed at that question from your dad, you were hoping to avoid it at least a bit longer.

Before Venti had the opportunity to fumble for an answer you 'accidentally' knocked over your glass of water, startling them all.

"Oh shit sorry, complete accident—"

You darted off in the kitchen to grab a towel as your mom followed you.

It took a moment for you to get yourself dried off, and by the time you got back, both your dad and Venti were debating about alcohol.

You rolled your eyes and use the towel to wipe off the remaining water on the table, "Well, this has been pleasant, thank you very much for the meal, but I think I'm going to go ahead and retired to the room, tired from the long drive and all."

There were general murmurs of disappointment amongst your parents before they both wished you good night, adamant on the fact you would all do something together tomorrow.

You simply replied with a nod and walked away as Venti followed you quickly.

You practically buried your face into the pile of pillows when you finally found yourself comfortably laying on the bed.

"Well, it wasn't that bad now, was it?"

You had to admit that could have gone a lot worse, you couldn't even imagine what answer he would have given for where he was from.

You hummed in acknowledgement as he crawled into bed with you, quickly situating himself on your side.

"Just four more days." You mumbled to yourself.

"I think we'll pull it off just fine." Venti responded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before you rolled over to face him.

This was a long shot, but maybe you could actually get an answer out of him.

"Hey, how did you know your name was Italian?"

He responded with a very sheepish looking smile, "I didn't."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, pulling him into your embrace.

"Well, at least you're a good bullshitter."

He only gave you an affectionate kiss on the cheek in response.

You hadn't really intended on falling asleep so soon, but all the stress just seemed to melt away when you were lying there with him.

You would get out of this week alive.

As long as your mom decided to keep the family photo album with all of your younger pictures to herself that is...

Genshin Characters That Eat Pussy For Your Pleasure Vs Their Pleasure

//18+ MINORS DNI - AFAB! Reader

Uhmmm I just had some thoughts heheh.

Albedo, Ei, Ayato, Heizou, Kazuha, Diluc, Xiao, Centi, Childe

Genshin Characters That Eat Pussy For YOUR Pleasure:

Albedo -> I hope you don’t mind him experimenting with his tongue and various toys on you, scribbling down the results, sometimes doing so while suckling on your clit. He edges you until you cry, maybe if you beg he’ll stuff his fingers in your cunt and curl them until you squirt.

Ei -> She’s new to all this, a pussy virgin if you will. Guide her with your fingers in her hair and she’ll melt between your legs with each praise that slips past your lips. She might just feel the need to slip a hand between her thighs. Don’t be too surprised to feel an electric tingle between your slippery folds as she kitten-licks you to completion.

Ayato -> He’s a busy, busy man, so what better way to please his needy darling than to eat them out on his desk? His tongue easily bringing you to climax within minutes, gloved hands gripping your thighs and keeping you close to his face. Presses a sweet little kiss to your throbbing clit when you cry out his name.

Heizou -> This detective is on the case! Figuring out what makes you break with his mouth and fingers alone is his favorite pastime. He likes it messy, slobber and your own cum from a previous orgasm spilling down his cheeks and chin as you ride his tongue. For the love of all the Archons, sit on this dudes face.

Genshin Character ls That Eat Pussy For THEIR Pleasure:

Kazuha -> A certified pussy-holic, always begging to eat you out. He drags you to a secluded corner whenever he can, dropping to his knees just to shove his face between your legs. He needs to taste you, needs you to cream on his tongue, eyes rolling back in his head as you moan his name.

Diluc -> His favorite way to destress is to have you laid out on his king sized bed, spreading your legs so he can have full access to you. He could spend hours just leisurely swirling his tongue around your clit, edging you until you cry for him. Just wait a bit longer, he’s not done yet.

Xiao -> Pussy menace. He’s practically growling possessively between your thighs, acting as though your cunt belongs to him and him alone. Try and push him away and he’ll nip your thigh, diving right back in to this grand feast. If you just so happen to enjoy it, great, but he’s here trying to drink up all you essence, licking you clean each time you cum.

Venti -> Ruthless bard who gets so drunk on eating you out that he loses the ability to think. Your cries for more make his cock twitch, and he find himself humping you, the bed, or whatever he can shamelessly grind his hips into. Shoves his tongue in your pussy just to pull away and watch as your hole clenches around nothing. Brings a dumb smile to his face.

Childe -> This man is a feral beast, don’t expect him to be gentle with you. Gets really into it, moaning against your pussy as your thighs squeeze his head. He’s delirious, letting a glob of spit drop onto your clit before wrapping his lips around the bud and sucking it clean. He’s prone to making your legs shake so bad and overstimulating you to the point where you have to use the safe word, he just gets so lost.

Can you do yandere white night with his 12 apostle headcanons? :0

⸸ Yandere Lobotomy Corp — WhiteNight w/ Apostle!Reader Headcanons ⸸

(Disclaimer: A yandere AU of Lobotomy Corporation where I make as many Abnormalities humanoid as possible. OOC and fanon are to be expected)

This is quite the doozy, loves~

In this AU, the Plague Doctor doesn't immediately breach as soon as he Metamorphosizes into WhiteNight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, there are many ways your love story with the false god could turn out. With him, there are just so many ways your fates could have intertwined to lead to WhiteNight worshipping you.

You could have refused him until the very end, and spared yourself the pain and eternal suffering that he thinly disguises as 'Eden.'

Buuut...for the sake of your request, dear Anon, let us assume that you accepted to devote yourself entirely to him. And I mean, all of you.

Because that is essentially what you did.

You did bother to understand what it meant to be his follower, right?

R i g h t . . ?

"At last, his eyes fluttered opened to reveal an ominous red. His followers rejoiced, 'The Lord and Savior has awakened!'"

WhiteNight loves all of his Apostles. No infidel or heretic is allowed to question his mercy and love for them.

But who is he trying to fool, dear? You, who he had tried so hard to convert and now fear of losing? His followers, who he only deem as faceless pawns?

Or perhaps, himself? A lovesick god that believes he is above everything flawed and human.

It dawned on him, then, that you weren't just some Apostle he wanted to hoard.

He needs your devotion. He absolutely cannot stand the idea of you one day leaving him.

And don't even try to attempt to worship anyone else. Especially not that wretched man who likes to play saint. WhiteNight can give you everything you ever wanted, and so much more than that sad excuse of a god.

Which was why he always paid the most attention to you.

He was already a high-maintenance Abnormality, that doesn't want to be left alone or ignored for more than ten minutes. So, imagine having to come to his containment unit at least six times an hour, because he keeps threatening the Manager that he will breach.

The other Apostles envy you, but they cannot show it. They fear his anger, but more than anything, they fear being abandoned by him. They wouldn't dare to incur his wrath! Isn't he already being cruel enough by wasting all of his affections on you?

So, they will scowl at you while holding a tight leash on their jealousy as they watch their Lord smother and embrace you with his being. Oh, how much they wished to be showered with his gifts and pure-white feathers...

"Why won't he look at us? We have done everything he ever asked for, but he won't even let me stay near him. He keeps looking at them. That dirty, dirty whore. The Harlot! Please please please please just LOOKATME."

Then, a new Apostle has been blessed, with the previous one missing. Everyone looks tense, afraid to even look at you or him at the eye.

Sitting on his lap, his arms wrapped around waist, you ask innocently. He delights at the fear in your eyes as you turn to face him.

They all could die for all he cares. His eleven Apostles are replaceable, unimportant, and inconsequential to his plans. All he truly needs is you.

The moment you die...how long will he have to wait until the next time loop begins?

"Hush...Why dost thou fear me? No harm shall come to thee so long as thy body, heart and soul belong to me."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This is the first Abnormality I ever wrote so much on, and still have so much more to talk about. But alas, I can only write so much before this post turns from headcanons into an essay. Least to say, this won't be the last headcanon I ever write on him, loves.

Especially since this one doesn't consider the MC being the twelfth apostle. Ooh, how would he deal with a Heretic darling, I wonder.

Anyway, I hope you love this one, Anon~

Okay I’m back because I just had a thought. (Crazy ik 💀) but Scara would absolutely welcome his darling riding his face. If he dies being suffocated by you then so be it. Between your thighs with your cunt on his mouth. TO DIE BY THIGH IS THE WAY OF A WARRIOR!!! Let’s say you’re a heavy girl… man he don’t care. You accidentally break his neck? He’d cherish the cast and he’d welcome it happening again

-🔪 anon

YES “you wanna sit on my face so bad (manipulative)”

he’s begging you to put your entire weight onto his face as he slobbers all over your pussy— and although his whiny voice is muffled by your wet folds, that doesn’t stop him from whimpering out your name and begging for more. More of you, more of your taste, the feeling of you body on top of him, just more of everything. He’s so un attached from the world that he’s unaware at just how hard his hands are gripping into the flesh of your legs, or how pathetic his moans sound. He can’t help it when your juices taste so delicious, or how your thighs feel right at home at each side of his head.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche’s cock aches so painfully in his pants but he just can’t find the motivation to reach down to rub himself off, because having your thighs in the tight grip of his hands to keep you from crawling away, requires him needing to use every last drop of energy he has. Squirming around on top of him doesn’t help at all— because if anything, it’s adding onto your own overstimulation with the way his tongue flops out to play around with your swollen clit. “Mmpfh—! Love it so mwuch… please, w-wan’ more!” He sobs into your folds, tears of desperation pooling at the corner of his eyes that he had originally screwed shut, his toes curling while he tries to thrust his hips upwards to ease the tension in his underwear.

He doesn’t not care one god damn bit if you’re on the heavier side, because he’s begging you to sit on his face either way. If anything, he takes it as an opportunity to try to impress you and show off his strength. You’re self conscious about your weight and decline his offer to sit on his face? He says that he’ll drop down to his knees and beg if he has to, if it meant you would agree and indulge into his fantasies.

You taste so fucking divine, and if nearly suffocating from under you meant he could feel your body so close— your cunt rubbing right against his mouth and your gorgeous thighs wrapping around his head, he thinks that death wouldn’t be bad at all…

L m a o gets you to sign his neck brace while saying he’d do it again in a heart beat. He so funny :( love him

Probably also cums untouched when your squirt all over his face, LOL swallows it all like liquid gold

i think we can all agree that kunikuzushi is the biggest tittie lover in existence that man loves boobs n i know it

So true though!! I believe that any men with mommy issues likes boobies <3333

[cw: afab reader, he licks reader's nip at the end, this is an au where the fatui stuff didn't happen and reader whisked him away from tatarasuna to narukami island and he healed through reader's guidance, implied smut at the end]

@midnxght-sweet-time, @barbatosfavouritenun, @edenialucas, @fluffyganyu, @nejibot, @yumixxn, @teallapril

"Hehe, you look comfortable, Kuni."

If you listen closely, you could hear a sort of purring sound coming from the doll. His fair face displays a blissful expression, as if he'd forgotten any and all tribulations of this world, choosing to bury those trivial concerns away in favour of enjoying this moment. When this cute, innocent doll nuzzles his face in between your breasts, you don't even mind the hand that slides up from your waist to cup one of your mounds.

"That's because they are soft…like pillows."

Kunikuzushi seems proud of that realisation; as if he discovered something new and profound.

He looks up at you for approval, indigo irises picking up sparkles in the Inazuman sun. You caress his face, feeling a slight warmth in his blush-tinted cheeks.

"Do you feel embarrassed to touch me like this?"

The puppet shifts, avoiding your gaze. "A little. This feels…intimate."

You chuckle. "Oh but Kuni, we've done plenty of other intimate things."

"I know that but," he hesitates. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

"No, not at all! In fact, it makes me happy that you like my breasts so much!"

Kunikuzushi relaxes and returns to his rightful place: his face flush against your boobs. He rubs against you like a cat marking its territory and it's then when something snaps inside you.

"I'm going to do something a bit rough, okay?"

Kunikuzushi tilts his head but before he could ask, your hands gently grab at his scalp before you completely smothered him with your boobs.

"Mmf?!"

Kunikuzushi panics for a moment before he realises that he doesn't need to breathe and wraps his arms around your waist to pull himself closer. Your scent, your warmth, your softness feels so overwhelmingly good that he can't help but go red. And your praises and coos as you pat his head doesn't help. The doll goes slack and you immediately let go of him.

"Kuni?! Kuni, are you okay? I'm so sorry! I thought that–"

The puppet pushes you to the ground, cutting off your worried rambling. He leans down, tongue darting out to lick your clothed nipple.

"(Name), can I feel you more?"

#what was that, darling? what did you call me?

—how do they react when you call them an endearment for the first time? 

CHARACTERS. Aether, Albedo, Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Gorou, Kaeya, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli; gn!Reader

THEMES. fluff, new relationships kind of, nah just cute stuff

NOTES. i was honestly just inspired to make part 2 of this work of mine. it’s also similar to this one too (i just realized this now). i hope you’ll like it! i kinda had a difficult time writing nowadays ngl, i think i’m becoming rusty… or just burnt out

Send a Kofi || Writing Commissions

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

ZHONGLI had always been a calm and composed person through and through. With all that he’s been through in the millenia, there is very little that could surprise him by now. But it seems that the same couldn’t be said as he gets accustomed to the ways of mortal life. It was then that he begins to realize that humans—mortal life is full of unexpected events. 

“Dear, can you come here for a minute?” 

He supposes he should not have been surprised. After all, you two had been going out together far more often than not. It is safe to say that you both have mutual feelings towards each other. 

Yet the calm touch of your voice lets the barriers he had put up in his soul slowly fade away as if the numbness of his scars had begun to recover from its wounds. 

His hand finds your waist as he cracks a smile, “What is it, dearest?” 

┌───────── ·  ·  ·  · ꒰⚘݄꒱₊

XIAO feels a rush wave of warmth travel to his face and his chest hammers almost in an instant. You said “that word” so very smoothly, like it was made for your lips to utter to him. 

Keep reading

iii. to the enduring emperor: pity, pity... | yan zhongli x reader

part i: glory, glory! | part ii: mercy, mercy. | part iii: pity, pity...

content warning: yandere behaviour, unhealthy relationship, unequal power dynamic. reader discretion is advised.

notes: heavy hints of guizhong x reader and zhongli x guizhong. good things come in threes, after all, and i'm always soft for a triangle. finally, all the bird imagery tie back together. part iv will probably swing back into the present, but no promises because sometimes the plot bunnies hold me hostage. feedback and comments very much appreciated!

word count: 3.8k

Your memory may not be as good as that of Rex Lapis, but you will forever remember this: your Vision, its muted glow a stuttered heartbeat. And all of this, clenched in his hand, awaiting his judgement.

The Archon War ends, and the Lord of Geo ascends to take his seat among the Seven. A close final encounter, close enough to brush upon the borders of even the ever-safe Liyue Harbour. No matter your sovereign’s original plans, you had to take up your sword and fight—shielded under his wings, perhaps, but at least you have played your part.

And after it all, when Morax is called to Celestia, your exhausted body crawls toward Guili Plains. Your first home was here, before the demise of your Lord of Dust. Under the swaying shade of its familiar trees, the croon of songbirds lulls you into a fitful sleep, into dreams of old and melancholic memories.

With a start, your eyes fly open. You wake to the cacophony of birds, peaceful melodies morphed into warning screeches. The flap of wings as they take flight by the dozens, dots disappearing into the horizon. Stray feathers float down, drifting absentmindedly. The dreams slip through your mind, dust through sieve, lost to the void.

But. There is a weight on your forehead. A feeling of suppression. Not unlike the breath that catches in your throat, when your sovereign pins you down with his amber irises.

Strange. You look up toward the heaviness. The glimmer of a clear, teal gem. It is balanced perfectly between your eyebrows. Placed right above the diamond of your third eye.

You pluck it off your face, holding it against the sun. It sparkles, almost blinding you as you peer into its depths. The incandescent light of the Anemo Symbol from its centre greets your scrutiny.

A Vision. An acknowledgement from the Celestial gods.

But the Archon War has just concluded. The dust has already settled long ago. A Vision, but too little, too late.

Celestia has always had a twisted sense of humour. They had already taken so much from you, and now, to grant this? What had you done to earn their favour? Slaughter and kill and watch as others die in your place. That’s all you’ve accomplished in this millennia-long war.

It’s a heavy little thing. You would discard it into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again… if not for one thing. The only reprieve you find in the sudden appearance of your Vision is its symbol. Its colour. The teal of Anemo—not the yellow of Geo.

Not amber.

The glowing pulse of your Vision sings the truth: you were not his. Not completely.

The adepti have no need for Visions. The inner eye is a sort of vision by itself. A third eyes that roots deep within the soul, it was more than enough to manipulate the elements. After all, the misty clouds already obeyed your every whim. A crook of your fingers, and vapours become docile and obedient, warping and bending to your will.

You were not always an adeptus. But all those years of cultivation in search of immortality… they have not been for nothing. The journey toward becoming an immortal had been long and arduous, but it was worth it.

If only to see the smile on Guizhong’s face.

After all, it is her who finds you first. A little oriole, injured by the wild winds that slammed you into thorny wood, ripping your wings into shreds. You can barely see anything, eyes having been slashed by the sharp branches. So you are left to your fate on the ground, trying to hide your injuries. To show weakness was to invite predators. With every howl of the wind, your little heart flutters in fear.

When a particular strong gust of wind blasts into your injured wings, a weak screech of pain accidentally escapes. You gather your leftover strength, puff your feathers up for a fight, regret so heavy in your breast.

But then. A sudden swirl of dust. You’re scooped up in warm hands. When you begin to struggle against their hold, a soft voice croons in your ears, as melodious as any birdsong. A woman. “Be still, little one. I only seek to help.”

Her voice is mesmerizing. You’ve never heard anything like it. Its notes resonate into your hollow bones. Trust me, it said, and you chirped your agreement. Settled as still as a corpse into her hands. Folded your wings and obeyed. Folded yourself into her keeping. A docile, tamed songbird.

“To have understood me so well,” the voice murmurs, “you’re a clever little thing, aren’t you?”

You meet your other lord soon after, after being carried away by dust. In those days, he was a little less contained. A little less tempered by time and experience. Still rough around the edges when it came to emotions and tact.

The one who first found you cups her hand around you, a soft and gentle force hiding you from view. As she approaches him, she calls out, “Guess what I found in my outing among the glaze lilies, my lovely Morax?”

A long silence. And then finally, the one who calls himself Morax says, “I have a million guesses, but they are just that. I do not know, Guizhong.” Words deep and grating, as if it were stone rumbling. Groundbreaking. It is only your saviour’s—Guizhong’s—firm hold that prevented you from thrashing and pecking.

You did not like his voice. Its low pitch is the sound of a songbird’s nightmare: the gaping earth opening to swallow you whole, feathers and bones and all. No, you did not like his voice—and in particularly trying times, millennia into the future, you still don’t.

Guizhong opens her hand, and you stare blearily into the light. Vision blurred, all you can make out is a tall, shadowy figure leaning closer and closer. And then you see it. Glowing, sunset eyes. Diamond pupils. A heavy, scrutinizing stare. The eyes of a predator, appraising the weakness of its prey.

You burrow deeper into Guizhong’s palms, a warning cry jerked out of your weak lungs. “Shhh,” she says, stroking your head, before scolding, “Do lessen your glare, Morax. The poor thing is so frightened already, and you are not helping.”

“I do not glare,” he states, but backing away from you.

Relief bubbles in your chest from his retreat. Guizhong laughs at his words, pealing bells ringing in your ears. “You do. You just don’t realize it, for you are always glaring.”

“Hm. I will keep your advice in mind.”

“Then I am glad. Now come and help me figure out how to bandage these wings. I’ve never been good at tending to wounds.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You plan on keeping it?”

“Just until it learns to fly again, Morax.” She shakes her head at his words. Protests quietly, “And it is not so much keeping, as it is sheltering. There is a difference.”

He stares at you long and hard, contemplating Guizhong’s words. You shrink back, and he finally says, “I see.”

Years later, when you are once again suppressed under his gaze, you will wonder if he was telling the truth. If he truly did see.

Under the protection of two gods who complement each other as the sun complements the moon, the Guili Assembly in those years were prosperous and peaceful. And under Guizhong’s—and Morax’s—gentle care, you soon recover your strength. But when it comes time to set you free, when it comes time to leave, you merely stare at Guizhong.

Her words are encouraging. “Go on. I know you have fully recovered. Learning to fly again is not so difficult, for those destined for the skies. And I know you to be cleverer than most of your kind.”

You feel Morax’s gaze more than you see it. It was not so heavy in those days, moderated by Guizhong’s admonition. Not heavy enough to deter you, at least. In fact, there was a burst of fondness in your chest for the man who had wrapped your wings, rough hands so nimble yet cautious in its touch.

So you do not leave. Instead, you take to the air. Wings flap above Morax’s head, and then Guizhong’s head, before folding as you land on her shoulder. You nuzzle your head into the crook of her neck, trilling a song of gratitude. You stare into Morax’s eyes, the first time you felt courageous enough to do so, and it is also the first time you see him soften.

Guizhong smiles in response. “You do not wish to leave, little songbird?”

You hop from one leg to the other. Tilt your head a little in confusion. You let out a cry, quiet and mournful. Did she not want you? Did she have no need for an oriole? No need for your song? It is the only thing you have to offer.

Guizhong chuckles. “Rest your imagination. I did not say anything of the sort. However, while I do not mind your company, you will have to ask Morax too.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “We come in a pair, you see. The Guili Assembly is named as such for a reason, after all.”

You consider her proposal. And then you brace yourself. A determined look in your eyes as you take flight toward the stony figure. You do not rest on his shoulder as you do Guizhong. But when you flap your wings in front of him, waiting for a response, Morax raises his hand.

Fingers curl into a makeshift perch, and you land your talons on his flesh, taking care not to dig. Not that it would have mattered to stone. A songbird’s claws would have tickled rather than hurt. “Hello there,” he says carefully, eyes less piercing than you remember from your initial meeting.

You chirp back. His voice is not so grating now. Stone can also sing, you find. Beneath the dissonance, there hides a harmonic hum, waiting to be polished.

His other hand, hesitant and unsure, moves to touch your head. You lean into his gentle caress. “You wish to stay with us?” he asks.

An excited trill.

A careful consideration. Then an answer. His words are simple, but with finality. “Then stay.”

It is the first command you receive. And it will remain in effect for centuries. For millennia. But you did not know it then. You also did not regret it then.

Instead, there is only ecstasy at having received his permission. You dart back into Guizhong’s palms from his fingers, and she laughs at your excitement. “If you are to stay with us,” she says, “then allow me to bestow a gift upon you, songbird.”

“Guizhong,” Morax says sharply, his voice a warning as he crosses his arms. “Know what you are doing, before you do it.”

“I know very well,” she reassures him. “You have praised my wisdom before. Let your faith hold true.”

And then she covers your body with her hands and squeezes. A half-strangled pitch pushed past your beak, and then a strange sensation rushes over you. Initially, it feels like specks that burrow past your feathers and under your skin. But eventually, it morphs into the coolness of the morning dew, the dampness of misty clouds, and you shiver. It keeps pushing through your veins, and you hear it—a sound of sifting particles, as if dust has been kicked up by the wind. Still, though the feeling is enough to freeze blood, you do not resist. Your faith in Guizhong holds true.

Through your perseverance, time stops having meaning. It may have been seconds. It may have been years. Finally, after an eternity, Guizhong lets go, and you—

You can feel everything. The caress of the wind upon your feathers, the precipitating waters upon the grass beneath Guizhong’s feet, the rolling mist high in the mountain air.

“Well!” she marvels, as you shake off the chills. “Seems like it worked, Morax. The clouds are moving because of our little friend here.”

“So they did,” he observes impassively.

“Guizhong, Guizhong,” you cry, wondering what she did. And then snap your beak shut. There are words coming from your lungs.

“How the oriole cries! Prettily, just like the poets say,” she says, eyes mischievous. Morax sighs at her tone. “How do you feel, little songbird? Try using your words.”

“G-“ You shudder at the strangeness of the foreign vibrations, and stutter out an answer. Was your tongue supposed to twist this way? “Go-Good. Wh-What—?” What happened to me? You couldn’t finish the sentence, but Guizhong seemed to know what you meant.

“You were already more conscious than any bird I’ve seen,” she answers with a thoughtful look. “You must have a soul capable of cultivating into an adeptus. So I tried infusing some of my elemental energy into you—and opened your third eye in the process. The feeling in your body is the resulting adeptal energy that’s coursing through you.”

“I wish you were more considerate before making the decision. It could have been dangerous,” Morax mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.

“It worked out in the end, did it not?” Guizhong waves his concerns aside. At your questioning look, she says, “So, little songbird. Let’s see how long it takes for you to become a true adeptus, shall we?”

Not very long, it turns out. You take to the adeptal arts with alarming enthusiasm. To the combats arts with even more zeal. After Primus comes Secunde, your fellow adepti all said of your fighting skills. Morax had personally taught you the art of the blade—though you could never defeat him, no matter what tricks or techniques you pulled. It always ended with his spear at your throat, at your heart, you pinned beneath him. But you hadn’t minded, back then. Had even appreciated his overwhelming victory. This is my master, you had thought with pride. My lord is no-one’s equal.

You think back to those days sometimes, of the better times, before everything collapsed with the coming of the Archon War. Lord Guizhong had been so, so proud to see your human form—the final step in your cultivation toward becoming an adeptus. Beautiful, she had murmured, one hand to her chest, as if dazed. Don’t you think so, Morax? What an accomplishment from our little songbird.

And Morax… He had the same look as Guizhong. Mesmerized. Yes, he murmured. Beautiful.

Fingers at his side twitched, as if holding something back, but you shied away from his gaze by hiding behind Guizhong. Peeled yourself to her side in your new form, the warmth of her body diffusing into your own. The Lord of Dust was… safe. The Lord of Geo was not. You were reminded of when you first met him, his voice the earth rumbling as it swallows a songbird whole.

Even so, after her death, you never shed your human form. Never had the heart to shift hair and flesh back into feathers. You’d considered it, especially when Morax—Rex Lapis, after you swore your loyalty in the contract all adepti are bound to—became so overbearing.

However… Guizhong’s pride. You could not abandon it. Could not bear the thought of more of her pieces, more of her memories lost to wind and time. Guizhong did love the mortals so, after all. So while your external appearance changed from time to time, the inner essence of human flesh remained. It’s a reminder of your duty to the people of Liyue. Of her love.

But oh, sometimes, you wish you could just fly once more. Like right now, as your Lord of Geo glances at the Anemo Vision resting at your hips. The wind that has scattered Guizhong, now represented in your element. A unique sense of humour, you decide. Cruel irony. But then again, Celestia has always been carelessly cruel.

"Glory to Rex Lapis, and may his reign surpass millennia." The familiar greeting falls from your lips, devoid of all cheer.

“A lot has happened since my departure,” he says. A subtle disdain in the curl of his lips. You’re glad to see it—there was a reason the Anemo Vision was placed at your hips. On display for all to see… Especially the Lord of Geo.

“That it was, my lord.” You stare at anything but him. “I hear Cloud Retainer has retreated back into isolation. Perhaps you should pay her a visit. She will become a hermit again, if my lord does not coax her from her abode.”

“That is not what I refer to. You know that.” Stiff annoyance in his normally placid voice. This time, Rex Lapis' gaze does not shift from your Vision. “Celestia has saw fit to grant you their favour too, it seems.”

“Indeed.” Your answer is short. There is nothing to say that he doesn’t already know.

“Anemo,” he says, brows furrowed in concentration. In annoyance. A vein in his forearm pulses, and for a second, you see golden cracks. “I suppose it’s not too strange, for your nature.”

“The winds are crucial for flight, after all,” you agree. “At least, for someone like me. A dragon has no need for the winds, of course, but a bird does. Anemo makes sense. Does Xiao not also possess a Vision like mine?” There were many similarities between you and Xiao—except the Yaksha has not known his sovereign’s possessive gaze. Xiao was so very young, compared to you.

“Anemo… Should Geo not be more suitable? I do not understand this choice. After all, were you not once infused with dust?”

The sharpness in his tone makes you wince. It was underhanded, to bring up old memories like this. He means for you to lose your composure. So you cannot. “Even then, I suppose,” you choke out. "It is up to Celestia, after all."

“An Anemo Vision for a little songbird,” he say flatly. “How fitting, dear friend.”

Your breath hitches, but you refuse to crack. But how you wished to scream. To beat your fists against his unfeeling heart. To weep. “My lord,” you say, voice gone quiet. Firm. “Do not call me that.”

It sounds a command, but you will not apologize. Little songbird. Dear friend. None of these phrases should pass from his lips. They were not his to use.

A long, drawn-out silence, as his eyes linger near your Anemo Vision. “I apologize, beloved subject,” Rex Lapis says finally, a fake innocence in his lilting voice. “May I see it, then? I’d like a brief inspection of this new… development.” He opens his palm, expectant of your cooperation. As much as it could be called cooperation, when it comes coerced. When it is an order. Do it. You must, his eyes say, boring into you.

You hesitate. Something seems wrong. His calmness... but a vision cannot be destroyed, you console yourself. So you surrender it to him, silent and unsure. When he brushes his skin against yours, as you lay the Vision in his palm, the Geo markings wrapped around his arm flicker.

“You had the setting made in Liyue Harbour,” he notes, thumb brushing over the sharp edges of its square shape. A teal gem, inlaid in an octagonal and diamond metal border. As is typical for a Vision of someone from Liyue.

“I did,” you admit.

“A fine craftsmanship.”

“I will pass on your praise, my lord.”

“I would have done it for you, had you but waited for my return. Had you but asked.” His voice is light, but his words accusing.

“I did not wish to bother,” you mutter. As if you would let him set your Vision into a base of his own making—and let him assert his claim even more? No. Only a fool would allow it.

“Hm.” Rex Lapis turns the trinket around, examining it with a careful eye. And then he suddenly asks, “Visions are indestructible, are they not?”

“…Yes, I believe so,” you say, a sinking feeling in your gut. Chills snake up your spine, as if phantom fingers were tracing a path toward your neck. If he was going to do what you think he was… But not even he could succeed at such a thing… Right?

He stares at the Vision, as if he could conquer it with his will alone. The eyes of Morax are the sunset. Amber lit on fire. Diamond pupils glowing. It whispers of unfathomable strength. Incalculable power.

“I wonder…” he whispers, and then, to your horror, your prediction comes true. His arm turns to the darkness of Geo. Scattering geometric veins of gold, snaking around his skin, begin to burn bright as his fingers curl around your Vision and squeezes.

Your heart stops. Everything becomes still. And then the adrenaline floods your veins, and you almost topple from the blood rushing to your temples. Your head throbs. Stop him. You must stop him.

"What are you—" you rush to knock it out of his hand, but rock does not bend, for all your desperate clutching. His fingers remain clenched around your vision, and he does not let go. Your nails scratch at unyielding stone, but nothing, nothing. You had not wanted to believe your own predictions, thinking that there may be some kindness left in him, but to wring mercy from Geo is a futile endeavour. A wail cuts its way out from your throat, the warbling of an oriole as it chokes to death. “Rex Lapis! Morax! My lord, stop it, stop it, please—”

The glow fades away as he relents. Without his Geo powers, you can at last pry his stiff fingers open. A breath held in anticipation, eyes wide-eyed, hoping, hoping. At the centre of his palm lies broken pieces of what used to the metal borders of your Vision. Crushed to dust.

But among it, a teal gem. It remains whole and sparkling, unaware of the dangers it had just weathered. Dizzying relief in your mind as you snatch it away, staggering back and clutching it to your chest. You had no use for it, true, but it is still a part of you. It is a piece that differentiates you from him.

“I apologize, but it seems you will have to set your Vision again,” he says, sounding anything but sorry. It is casual malice instead. Amber eyes hardened into flint. “As recompense, I offer my services. You will find it inferior to none.”

“I know very well, my lord,” you say hollowly. “Thank you for the generous offer.” If you were to find another jeweller instead of letting him do as he wills, who knows the consequences. But still. “Why did you—!” A protest slips out, and you bite your tongue to stifle it. There was no use asking for answers you already have.

"I just wanted to test the claim." His face is expressionless—as if he didn't just try to destroyyour Vision, to crush it into nothingness under Geo. “It held true. A Vision truly is indestructible.”

“Right,” you croak. “Of course it is.”

"…Pity," Morax says mildly, voice so low it’s almost a murmur.

But you hear it. Of course you do—he expected it. Counted on it.

After all, a warning is meant to be heard.

From then on, you wear the Vision in a band around your forearm, for the sole purpose of hiding it within your billowing sleeves. The Anemo Vision sits tight and snug against your skin, out of sight and out of mind. You rarely use it, afraid to remind him of its existence.

You fear the day your lord lays eyes on it again—just as you fear him.

Ummmm if requests are open can I request yan!ayato x f!reader. Reader discovered she's pregnant after being forced into a marriage by ayato, and decides to plan an escape?

tw: fem reader / pregnancy / yandere / controlling behaviour / mentions of drugging / physical imprisonment

i am 50 years late, but some thoughts:

ayato smiling more than usual when he finds out the news from the healer—and of course, this healer is loyal to him too, a woman that's a part of his shuumatsuban operatives. so he finds out immediately. of course he does. he wraps his arms around you and murmurs that it's amazing, how much happiness you give him (as if you'd ever, willingly, given him anything.)

ayato is a family man. he cherishes the idea of family, always protects and chases after the concept, on account of his father and mother passing away early. the entire household finds out the news, ayaka first, and she's so enamoured by the thought of having a niece/nephew, always asking after your needs or wants, glancing at your stomach.

you always demur when ayaka asks how you feel, never admitting how it itches at you sometimes, knowing that the child in you belly is of his seed. but it's also yours too. a proof of your survival, that despite ayato having stolen you away from you family (though stolen is perhaps not the right word—bargained, perhaps), you're still alive, if not thriving then at least surviving. you're capable of life, even in the most desolate of places, trapped in a gilded cage of silk and yumemiru.

you dream of the child sometimes, in your arms after birth, peaceful dreams when it resembles your father or mother or you, nightmares when you catch blue tufts of hair and pale violet eyes. you wake up in cold sweat, touching a hand to your stomach, where the bump has begun to portrude, and feel the urge to throw up. ayato is always around you immediately, asking the servant to fetch water, and then murmurs of how he'll protect you, that you won't go the way of his mother and father, because he has that power now.

you heart shrivels whenever he touches you, whenever he makes these vows, resentment beginning to splinter what's left of your ability to feel tenderness.

no. you refuse to let ayato influence your love for your child. if it looks like ayato, you will still love them. but you can't do that if you're forever in the embrace of this man who makes your gums ache, your joints creak, as if you'd already aged a hundred years. in the kamisato estate, love cannot flower at all, so you plan your escape.

it's not easy. you never have privacy to ask for anything, let alone something as risky as passage off of inazuma. but you grit your teeth and forcibly make the opportunity, stray touches here and there, sultry eyes to let him know you're receptive to his touches, and you change. you no longer flinch and act so hateful toward him in private. lowering his guard like this, bit by bit, until he gives you have slivers of freedom that you gulp down like a man dying of hunger, grabbing onto the tiny openings of your windowless castle and prying it open, asking for news here and there until you've cobbled enough savings to bribe a man to take you if not to mainland teyvat, then at least ritou where less people will know who you are.

the bright crack of dawn comes: you sneak out of the estate, surprisingly easy. ayato is asleep thanks to the sleeping draught you'd slipped him last night in his tea, and he doesn't even stir as you remove yourself from his side. you feel the shackles coming off as you tiptoe out of the compound, sandals lifting over the wooden threshold. but then—

"having fun, dear wife?"

you almost slip, catching yourself on the door frame. numbness spreading from your fingertips to your neck, you turn. ayato's standing there, leaning against the wall as he watches you with amused eyes. no trace of anger. just amusement, like a god watching his followers from up on high.

you open your mouth, intending to make your excuses, and almost sob instead. you were so close. so close you'd almost felt it, the sensation of ocean water kissing your fingertips as you sit on that boat, your lovely unborn child beneath your other hand as you'd murmur sweet nothings about how your lives would be nothing but joy.

and now, this. "i know pregnancy boredom is quite unbearable," ayato sighs as he reaches for your shoulders. "but you shouldn't be so mischievous, hm? the shuumatsuban have their hands full as it is, let alone keeping track of my own wife. first that medicine, and now this. you know better than to try to go off on your own. it's not safe."

you shudder as he picks you up, sweeping you up into his arms as he'd done before you'd entered the bridal chamber on your wedding night. left with no avenue but to play obedient, you rest your head against his shoulder and caress your belly while whispering, "i'm sorry. i won't... i won't do it again."

ayato hums. you feel the vibration of it, how it makes a hollow instrument out of your body. "of course you won't. it'll be hard to move with the shackles on your feet, after all."

꒰⚘݄꒱₊ 𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 ! · · · ♡

— pairings: heizou, kazuha, dottore, itto x f!reader

— warnings: hickeys (obviously), heizou is a little shit (affectionate), suggestive content but pretty tame tbh, kazuha is a tits man i said what i said, dottore is a little bit (lotta bit) of a sadist, minor bloodplay (?) in dottore’s part, itto also nicks you but it’s an accident this time. this is not proofread btw EL O ELLLLL

— synopsis: how different genshin men like to mark you up.

— notes: technically a part 2 to what i posted on my old blog (found here!). i hope u guys like this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3. i may or may not have started losing steam around itto’s part so if it seems a little lackluster compared to the others, thats probably why and im sorry &lt;/3 i’ll do him justice one day.

THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG! MINORS DNI, PLEASE AND THANK YOU. &lt;3

✧˚ · . SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. ༉‧₊˚.

→ heizou is a playful lover.

→ he adores marking you up to let the rest of inazuma know just who you belong to.

→ can and will feign ignorance when you go to complain about the MULTIPLE markings blooming along the smooth expanse of your neck and collar.

→ “h-heizou, c’mon, you know it’s hard covering these up…” you murmur, lacing a hand through his soft locks as he grins lopsidedly against your collar. he responds by nipping at your sensitive skin, pulling a yelp from you.

→ as a response, you tug his hair back a little and the little groan he lets out sends heat straight between your legs. he grins even wider at you.

→ oh, heizou knows the effect he has on you. he knows how to play you so expertly, as if he were a pianist playing a masterpiece at a recital.

→ “pretty girl, i don’t want you to cover them up,” he hums, cupping your face with a hand. he strokes his thumb lovingly over your cheek. “all of inazuma should know you’re mine. i can’t have other men looking at you, right?”

→ your face heats up at his possessive words, pressing your face closer to his hand as if it’ll hide your flustered state from him. if anything, it does the opposite. he giggles and presses wet, open-mouthed kisses up your neck before he claims your lips with his.

→ maybe you would indulge him a little bit. maybe you’d try a little less harder on covering up the numerous markings littering your neck.

✧˚ · . KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. ༉‧₊˚.

→ kazuha prefers to leave hickeys in places only you two will ever see.

→ he doesn’t need the world to know the two of you are together. the quiet whisper of affection between lovers is more than enough for him.

→ that, and he thinks that it is much more intimate to have markings only the two of you know of.

→ “zu, that- ah! that tickles!” you gasp as he sucks a mark right by your navel, hands gripping the plush flesh of your hips as he grins up at you.

→ he kisses a trail up to your exposed breasts, trailing his hands up higher as he stares up at you with intense crimson eyes.

→ “would you rather i kiss you up here?” he murmurs, planting his lips on the sensitive skin of your chest. he sucks a mark right above where your bra covers you up from him, feeling your chest rumble as you let out soft noises of pleasure.

→ all the noises you made was like music to his ears, his incentive to keep going. “may i?” he asks, tucking his fingers under the band of your bra. you nod your head, but he waits until you verbally say, “kazuha, please.”

→ with a melodic hum, he unhooks the garment with practiced ease and goes right back to making the song he loves to hear.

✧˚ · . IL DOTTORE. ༉‧₊˚.

→ dottore is precise with how he marks you up.

→ it makes him feral, seeing you lying there below him, submissive and pliant just for him. letting him play with you as he pleases.

→ loves watching hickeys bloom across your skin, teasingly nipping at ones already prominent and sore just to hear you yelp.

→ every twitch, every sound you make, it burns into his brain. how could he ever forget anything about his beautiful little pet? marking you up so nicely for the other fatui to see. after all, they must know you belong to him and him only.

→ most the time, he’s careful with how hard he bites. we wouldn’t want to hurt you too much, now do we?

→ but occasionally, there’s a nagging in the back of his mind, telling him to do it, do it, you just taste so delicious. and on days when you act out, or days where you get on his nerves, whether you’re aware of it or not—he decides a little bit of punishment is in order.

→ so he gives in and bites down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, just hard enough to puncture your tender flesh with his canines, tearing a cry from your throat. his tongue laves over the wound immediately, his senses flooded with the copper tang of your blood. he grins maniacally up at you.

→ “it’s okay,” he soothes you in response to your teary eyes, pressing a kiss over the angered skin. “you know i would never do anything to actually harm you. it feels good now after all, doesn’t it, my pet?”

→ he knows that you’re clenching your thighs together. he knows that you’re a little bit of a masochist—he wouldn’t have it any other way. you were his perfect little darling pet.

✧˚ · . ARATAKI ITTO. ༉‧₊˚.

→ itto is another one of the playful lover types.

→ he’s a little worried he might nip you a little too hard with his teeth, but a little bit of reassurance from you goes a long way.

→ that, and there’s that feral oni urge that nags at him to mark you up so that everyone knows you’re his. of course, he loves it even more if you return the favor, letting you add to the many red markings that already adorn his skin.

→ the gang is never surprised when the two of you emerge from some dark alleyway with matching hickeys at this point.

→ “itto, itto, careful!” you gasp softly as his teeth leave pretty little indentions on the smooth skin of your shoulder, the man in question letting out a little yelp before kissing it quickly (and gently) in apology.

→ “sorry bunny, you just taste so sweet!” he mumbles, kissing your temple. you smile up at him with adoration in your eyes.

→ “s’ok, you know i’ve never minded,” you speak softly, combing a hand through his unruly hair. his chest rumbles with what suspiciously sounds like a purr. you grin widely.

→ with the amount of times he’s accidentally pricked your skin, you’re used to it by now. you would even dare venture to say that maybe it felt good. just a little bit.

→ he hefts you up in his arms suddenly and you let out a squeal of surprise, your legs locking around his waist as his hands cup your ass. you drape your arms over his big shoulders as he grins at you.

→ itto also happened to be an insatiable lover—it must’ve been the oni blood in him. you were in for a long night.

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