The Long Forgotten Sensation Of A Little Hand In Your Own

can i order a fluffy smutty yandere male housewife x CEO darling?

cw. delusion, sexual themes, surveillance, yandere themes

is a dog in human form. he could be seen more as your caretaker rather than your partner. with the way he does everything and anything for you. gently, though reluctantly, wakes you on weekdays for your work. prepares meals and drinks for you, all of them containing his saliva and other fluids of his. cleans your room, not before drowning his senses in your smell, this usually results in him lying belly down on your side of the bed with his face smushed against your pillow as his hands work his member. spending the day cleaning the house, the clothes, redoing certain areas that are in need of organising and all the while he’ll do that while listening to you going about your day through the hearing device stitched in your clothes.

if he has spare time, he’ll reward himself by making a small lunch while watching recent tapes that he’s recorded of the two of you lovemaking. when your day of working is done, you’re greeted by a table full of your favourite meals, your husband sitting and happily watching you eat his food. don’t forget to compliment his food and give him a headpat, or else he’ll delude himself into thinking you had eaten somewhere else, by the hands of another, and you enjoyed theirs more than his.

your househusband is a very…devoted man. easily jealous of anyone who speaks to you, which is why the hearing device comes in handy. he knows he can trust you, you’ve proven it to him multiple times without your knowing. but those revolting fiends that you are forced to deal with has his body fuming with anger. you returning home is one of his highlights of his days, he becomes absolutely bubbly and doting, sticking to you like gum that won’t come off no matter how hard you try. and his most favourite thing of all, the one thing he looks most forward to, is your reward for his good work. inviting him to love all over your body, to take care of your tired body, let him work the stress off from work. allow him to lick and clean you before dirtying you all over, inside and out. he’ll beg and whine throughout, good thing he has a new tape to listen to on his free time now.

Yandere Abnormalities — Punishing Bird Snippet

(A Yandere AU of Lobotomy Corporation. If you don't like OOCs and fanon, discretion is advised.)

I decided to write this down since it has been nagging me for the past few days and college is a bitch that won't let me write anything else.

This bird could kill all my agents in the game, and I will never stop loving it.

Warnings: Slight gore and blood

Word Count: 1 100+

Adorable. Just absolutely adorable.

When you first saw him, you just had this irresistible urge to pinch him, hug him, pet his head, and run your fingers through his baby blue hair. But of course, you didn't since that was a sure way to get killed by any Abnormality.

The first time you were ordered to work on him, it was for Attachment. You didn't mind since who could deny such an adorable little guy? From what you could tell, he was barely taller than your chin! If it wasn't obvious, you were more than happy to be with him!

Sure, he mostly just glared at you (if he wasn't outright ignoring you). But how could you hate him for that when his own sulking looked cute?

Without a single bit of shame, you said that to his face, and much to your amusement, his cheeks only puffed up even more, growing pinker by the second!

Was this Abnormality even capable of looking intimidating?

After that, you haven't been called to work on Small Bird, but it's not like you had to. He often breached his containment unit, and by now, hardly anyone batted an eye when warnings set off because of him.

But unfortunately for you, that meant he was bothering you more often. Initially, it was thought that he breached only whenever an agent panicked, so when others saw the tiny bird pecking away at your forehead, everyone immediately ran to suppress you.

As much of a pain in the ass as it was to deal with the countless bruises you received, it wasn't entirely bad since you finally saw him in his avian form So, that's why you're called Small Bird, you mused.

You had always known that the boy wasn't sweet. Far from it, really. But you didn't expect him to be mischievous. Like a corvid, he would steal your food, sometimes even your personal belongings, just so he could hoard all of them in his little perch.

When he told you that you would have to climb up to get your things back, he just smirked at your irritation.

He knew that there was no way that perch would be able to hold your weight. And if you were to break it? Well, would you really risk angering him? You may find him irresistible to hug, but that will never make you forget that he's a TETH class Abnormality.

And much to your detriment, your fear of him only ensured that he would keep causing mischief around you since there would be no consequence. It was made even worse by the fact that his amusement at your suffering produced more PE boxes than usual, so there was no way the facility would help you with this one.

When you both walked across one another, the look of exasperation was instinctual. Before you even realized it, you were groaning at the sight of him. Naturally, that only delighted the avian even more.

"Sucks when I'm the one annoying you, isn't it?"

Your eyes widened. Was that really the reason why he kept breaching his containment unit? You ruined his day, so now, he is hellbent on ruining every single day for you?

But then, the time came that Small Bird breached for a good reason. It was one of the agents. They had gone on a murderous rampage after a particularly bad work with one of the Abnormalities.

You were one of the agents sent to suppress them, and unsurprisingly, Small Bird had come along to help. But then, things got out of hand, and you wound up being thrown to the floor so hard, you had whiplash.

That was when Small Bird's eyes began to turn red.

You were equipped with the right weapon for this, but why couldn't you bring the agent back to sanity? It was as if every hit you made only hurt them rather than help. But you weren't going to give up. Enough people die everyday as it is, and you weren't going to let this one go.

Then, you saw their eyes light up again, the fog vanishing as they began to regain consciousness. "Wh-what? I..."

They looked as though they were on the verge of tears. Remorse and self-hatred, two emotions that had overwhelmed them to the point of breaking down.

"I'm sorry!"

You kneeled down on the floor beside them, crying as well. "It's okay. It's going to be okay." Was it, really?

You two stayed like that for a while, with the other agents joining in to form a sort of support group. Together, you all huddled together, hugging and sharing comforting words. Someone was even clever enough to be humorous about the situation.

But the heartfelt moment had to end.

One of the agents was flung to the wall, away from the agent you had just saved. Your entire body went into overdrive, and before you could even understand what was fully happening, you were hurrying to pull the agent away from danger. Away from anything that could hurt them again.

Too late.

One moment, the agent was just standing there, eyes still wide from shock as she looked at the man who had been flung to the wall. Next, they were gone.

You could only stare, shell-shocked, as her body was torn to shreds. His mandibles and neck had split open to accommodate such a large bite, revealing the several jagged teeth that lined his throat, his mouth, and even his tongue.

The other agents could only watch in terror as they watched the boy, the one they had all considered too cute, too soft to be any real threat, tear their friend apart, eat them from limb to limb until nothing was left.

When he finished, he began to walk towards—

You crawled back, trying to get as much distance between you and him. But your legs were too shaky to stand on. You could only cry as you watched him tower over you.

His mouth—if that could even be called a mouth—was now closed. Now, he looked just like he did before. Adorable, harmless, with pink lips that couldn't hurt anyone.

He crouched down before you. Like this, you could see it clearer. The little bits of flesh and sinew that had fallen from his mouth onto his blue-feathered sweater when he was eating.

"Aren't you being too lenient, [Name]?" He tilted his head slightly to the right, the way he often did as a little bird whenever he watched you do something. "They didn't deserve your mercy."

"You...you killed them," you said, too mortified to say anything else.

"I did."

A wide smile contorted his face. For a moment, you thought that thing was going to open again, but no. All it revealed were sharp red teeth, your deceased colleague's flesh stuck between them.

"Now that they are punished, they could never hurt you ever again."

'Blood Feather' by Jeremiah McAdams

'Strands of a Feather' by Artem Podrez

"He... He sent you something again?!"

The shrill and concerned voice of your friend Rana rang loudly through the tavern as she angrily slammed her hands on the wooden table, a vein threatening to pop out of her forehead as you presented her with yet another gift Al-Haitham had sent you. This time it was a simple red rose, it's pretty petals nothing short of eye catching but you, and Rana especially, wanted nothing more than to ruin the delicate flower as it lays on the table undisturbed, the power of dendro infused into it which prevented you from doing anything. It also didn't help that he added something to the flower that caused other minor difficulties - you had accidentally pricked your finger on the sharp thorn but what freaked you out was how the blood got absorbed into the flower. A neatly written note accompanied the bloom, stating as such:

"Once a tiny droplet of your blood falls onto the rose, it shall be a part of your life force. If you are unwell, the flower is unwell. If you are happy, so is the flower. A great way of keeping track, don't you think?"

Of course none of the ink was visible before you had cut your finger....

Life in Sumeru City had been peaceful for the most part but you decided to be a fool by befriending Al-Haitham, a man whom hardly anyone liked and everyone warned you against seeing.

Oh how you wished you had the power to turn back time and make yourself not meet him. He was more stubborn than an angry mule, it was like the word no didn't even exist in the man's vocabulary. Go away might as well be Take me with you in his eyes.

🍒 TAGS: @genshinarchives, @mod-kisa-blog, @juuuuuj101010, @morigumy, @kalopsia-sonder

Short as hell but I'm too tired to continue

⸸ Eyes on Me — The Silent Orchestra ⸸

(An AU of Lobotomy Corporation where I made as many Abnormalities into aesthetically pleasing humanoids as possible, so OOC and fanon are to be expected. Inspired by my personal experience playing with these fuckers ladies and gentleman for the first time.)

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mentions of other Abnormalities like the Crumbling Armor, WhiteNight, [Censored], and Nothing There as humanoids. MC knows nothing about classical music.

Pairing: [Insert!MC] x T-01-31

Word Count: 2200 <

Description: The Silent Orchestra was born to be praised. To be loved. To hear the applause of anyone that stumbles upon them. But to guarantee the survival of the facility's entire personnel, it is detrimental that agents must deprive them of that privilege. No matter how deserving, no matter how tempted they are to scream and applause with madness...

...The Conductor must never see their soul.

Warning: general yandere themes (obsession), gore

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

The moment the Manager chose to contain T-01-31, the entire facility was bound to fall into break and ruin.

Agent [Name] was in the middle of doing Instinct work on O-05-61 when the warrior suddenly spoke to them.

"Go. Your strength is needed elsewhere." With a wave of his hand, a blue flame began flickering around [Name], sparking a new kind of vigor within them. And just like that, the door behind them slid open.

But before they ran out of the containment unit, they made sure to bow in gratitude.

Sure, it was just something the Abnormality did for those he found worthy, but it was still a nice gesture.

Some personnel had reported feeling wary or anxious around O-05-61. Some said that they felt something akin to a thin line being tightly wrapped around their neck around him. But for [Name], they only ever felt warm, safe, around the warrior, and with the blue flames engulfing them, that sensation didn't disappear, even as they traversed further and further away from O-05-61's containment unit.

Not long after, the Manager immediately ordered them to go to the Central Communications Department. Suppression Work.

[Name] could only assume the worst had happened. That an ALEPH-class Abnormality had breached.

...But who?

It couldn't have been Nothing There nor [CENSORED]. There were dead bodies, yes. A lot of them in fact, but it was too...clean. It was a word they never thought they would use to describe a massacre, but it was true. It lacked the barbarity and unrestrained violence that [Censored]'s unique killing style had. That Abnormality left entrails and mangled remains in its wake, leaving no surface untouched by blood.

But it couldn't have been Nothing There's either. The Assimilator left wounds too large to be from a human weapon. Besides, it favoured short-distance weapons; the scythe and mace in particular. These corpses had bullet wounds.

[Name] couldn't help but feel their heart sink. This was obviously a massacre committed by humans.

All the while, [Name] could hear it, the absolute chaos that was currently the CC Department. It was a tumult of horrified screams and the mad ramblings of agents on a murderous rampage. But even through it all, they could sense it.

The music of the end.

It thrummed through their bones, sending vibrations down their spine. It was as if the very sound was trying to encroach their mind.

By the time [Name] reached the Central Communications Department, they were greeted by absolute chaos. Beneath the sharp howls of violins and flutes, and the angry growls of brass instruments, they found their fellow agents.

The panicking ones were out on a murderous rampage, their eyes crazed with bloodlust as they hacked and slashed at anything that moved, but some were just sitting on the ground, staring catatonically at nothing. Then, there were those who were still sane, struggling to stay intact.

And at the midst of it all was the perpetrator.

He looked tall and proud as he stood there on a platform with his players. His hands gracefully motioned about, waving some sort of stick. Upon closer inspection, it looked to be made from the ivory of bones.

At first, [Name] thought it was WhiteNight, but no. If it was, she should have heard the bells before she even left 0-05-61's containment unit. This was...was this the new Abnormality?

The brass were getting louder, overpowering the soft chords of the strings, until eventually, all slowed to quietness.

But the performance wasn't over yet.

[Name] took this opportunity to land their killing blow. The man—Abnormality had their back turned to them. He was completely engrossed in whatever he was doing. Directing the Orchestra? But there was nothing else in front of him other than four women in white, all of whom only played violin and...whatever the bigger violins are called. Didn't they only need the stick-man for a large group of players?

Like WhiteNight, it was a mystery where music was coming from. Quite possibly, this Abnormality had a unique ability that negated the need for physical instruments. That was probably what its little stick was for.

Carefully, they aimed their gun for his head. Sure, a rifle from Der Freischütz won't kill them like it would a human, but it is a humanoid. Surely, a shot to the head would stop him even for just a second?

"S-stop."

A weak, raspy voice halted them. [Name] looked down at the ground beside him and realized the Agent was still alive. Immediately they knelt down. Not to help her, but so they could hear her better.

"How did everyone die?" Information was more important than anything else right now. Their survival relied on being able to avoid whatever killed their colleagues.

"The...music." She began hacking up blood. It took a while before she was able to breathe fine again. "It drove everyone mad."

"Then how come you're still alright?"

"I'm a senior. The lower-ranks weren't able to withstand it. What level are you?"

"Three...I think I have enough Prudence. And fortitude."

"Save it. You think you'll be able to take down that thing on your own? My entire team was decimated by that monster." Her rage seeped through their teeth like the blood on her chin. But beneath it all, they could see grief. Pain.

"Wait for back up, at least. Or hope that this day will be over soon, and you can leave this hell hole to be cleaned up by someone else."

That was...true. The departments from the upper levels were probably still harvesting energy. If that was true, then they should be reaching the daily quota soon.

But that was hopeful thinking. They might finish the day, but would they be able to make it until then?

"God damn, this is what I hate about this job," she angrily spat out, blood mixed with saliva dripping down her chin. "You'll never know what you're dealing with until its out killing all of your colleagues."

"What do you think its defenses are?"

She blinked, trying to recall, but with her blood loss, that seemed like a tremendous task. "I...I don't know. At first, no one could hurt it, but Emily with the Black weapon was able to hurt it for a while. But then, it just stopped working. After that, that awful noise began to ring in my ears, and everyone suddenly went crazy." Tears began to pool in her eyes. "I think...it became immune to damage altogether."

[Name]'s eyes couldn't help but widen.

Immune to damage..? That's..! That shouldn't be possible! If nothing could hurt them, then—

They turned to look back at the pale man. Beside them, they heard the dying Agent chuckle roughly. "What the hell is the Manager going to do about this?"

What the hell, indeed. If it can't be hurt, then was suppressing this thing even possible?

The music became more and more dynamic, probably nearing its finale, until finally, the clanging of metal and abrupt bellows of trumpets warned the descent of the grand finale.

A...flute? Oboe? Whatever it was, it began playing a soft sound similar to a rooster's crow in the morning. And as it did so, the women in white shook their fingers in a way that made the strings tremble.

When it finally did, [Name] thought they could relax...but they knew there were consequences for this.

They failed.

That was when every single person in the room began to laugh, scream, and cry in joy. Except for their senior. The agent beside them only clutched their head, nails digging harshly through their temples.

"What's wrong? Ma'am?"

She began to scratch, the soft skin easily peeling off from the unrestrained force.

"Make it stop make it stop make it STOP!"

[Name] could only watch helplessly as their senior kept banging her head against the floor. They tried to restrain her, but they only wound up with deep scratch marks on their arms. Their weapon might kill her, but knocking them out with the butt of their rifle would be worth it. But just as they were about to do it, all the lights in the department died out.

That was when when they heard the explosions.

All around them, [Name] heard their final cries of anguish before it all ended spectacularly with a bang. It was as if someone had shot them to end their suffering, but...

They touched the blood that splattered onto their face. It was still warm. Rubbing it between their fingers, they felt little chunks of meat and shards of bone.

What kind of gun could...did Der Freischütz shoot his magical bullet?

But that didn't make sense. His bullets never miss. Once he shoots, it hits everything in its way. They should be dead right now.

Their questions were answered soon enough when the emergency lights began to flicker an ominous red throughout the entire facility.

For a split second, they saw it. The corpses lying on the ground. The twisted bouquet of brain mush, eyes, and skull shrapnel where their heads should be.

They could only stand there, shocked. It was only a fracture of a second, but they were already closing their eyes, unwilling to see more.

'Maestro...it seems like one of them made it 'till the finale.'

They heard an airy voice speak, likely from one of the women in white.

Eyes still shut, [Name] could only listen to the clacking of shoes against the CC Department's polished floors. It grew closer, and closer until stopping in front of them. Just a little, they opened their eyes to see.

All they saw was the white of his shirt, the delicate black ornamentations on his tailcoat, and the fine weaving of his cravat. Even amidst all the gore and blood, he somehow remained untouched, unsullied.

The false purity reminded them of WhiteNight, and it made them sick.

[Name] refused to look up. They would have closed their eyes again if it weren't for how angry they felt. From their peripherals, they could still see the aftermath, and now, they couldn't stop looking at it.

The fact that something could kill, cause absolute chaos, and still remain clean, spotless, or act as if they have done no wrong...it made their blood boil.

"Maestro, perhaps she is deaf."

"Or crass. Trashy Another rubble in the heap."

"They must be for not appreciating the marvel they just witnessed!"

A sharp giggle pierced their ears. "Ladies, please. Let's be considerate. We must understand that not everyone has the same refined tastes as us."

At that, all the women began to giggle as if one of them had just said something clever.

[Name] had to grit their teeth at all the insults the airy-voiced women threw at them. She would soon rather go deaf than praise any of these plastic-faced pricks.

What were they even talking about? What did their hearing or taste in music have to do with this?

The Agent was glaring at them when she suddenly felt a cold hand pull their chin away from their direction, forcing them to look at the pristine face of the man. Half of his face looked human.

Well, as human as Abnormalities could look. His skin was as white as the fine fabric of his clothes. It was almost difficult to see the thin line between his true face and the porcelain mask that covered half of it.

His mask's eye was pure black, forever crinkled by the perpetual smile on its black-painted lips. But his true face, the one uncovered, was unsmiling. Dispassionate. Determined.

But for what?

The women immediately hushed upon noticing his solemnity. [Name] could feel their black beady eyes watching them, as if anticipating what their master would do next.

"Maestro, please. Let's not waste our time!"

"I agree! They aren't worth your salt!

"Ladies," the one with the terrible laugh cut in, but this time, there was no disdain in her words. Only stern assertion. "Remember your station. If the Maestro says so, then we follow."

What in the world are they even talking about? He hasn't said a word at all this entire time? Was all the Agent could think.

"Consider yourself lucky, human," a different woman, the one with the...dot with a wavy line drawn on her left cheek said.

Now that [Name] was looking at them, they noticed that all the women had symbols drawn on their cheek, and just like their 'maestro', they all wore porcelain masks. But unlike him, theirs covered their faces entirely.

"Our Maestro is planning another performance. Just. For. You~"

"After all..." One of the women leaned back on their chair. With her chin still pointing up, it was clear she was looking down on them. "...the show doesn't end unless we hear the applause. As such, the Maestro wishes to see you on our next performance."

"We will be looking for you."

And, just like that, all the lights in the facility turned back on. [Name] winced, blinded by the brightness. By the time their eyes adjusted, the ensemble had gone, vanished.

That day, they were busier than usual. Much to everyone's despair, they couldn't end since T-01-31's breach had completely depleted their enkephalin sources. Even the ones that the facility needed to run. Many other Abnormalities breached because of the power outage.

Not long after, the ensemble's entries were updated.

ALEPH-Class, T-01-31.

The Silent Orchestra.

.

.

.

~~~~~~~ End ~~~~~~~

"Every song has a heart, and a heart, its own melody. By now, you should know his." - T-01-31's Redrafted Entry

This definitely won't be my last snippet on him. No, this is just the first movement~

Omg I love your perv scaramouche sm,, imagine pervy scara daydreaming about being buried in your thighs, mouth watering at the thought of servicing you- his God. He'd thank you for letting him drink your juices like they were some magical elixir he swears he could live off of. Omg just him thinking of all the ways he could service you as your loyal follower, but for now, reenacting with his pillows and sex doll will have to do. GOD I LOVE SOGGY OBSESSIVE SCARA SM HELP

In love with you and your brain, nonny. 🥺 he’s imagining you in all sorts of lewd positions in the most random times— like the middle of class lol. Sorry this is so short, currently writing part three.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche who can slowly feel his mind slip away with each second the professor rambles on about whatever boring subject the class is learning, how his thoughts go from where you should go to for your next ‘date’ to what you would look like with your pretty thighs wrapped around his head as he’s slobbering all over your cunt. He lets out a shaking breath and looks to the side, where you’re sitting next to him and taking notes— unaware that you currently have his cock painfully prodding against his underwear. He has to keep uncomfortably adjusting around in his seat to try and ease down his growing erection.

The pen that was previously in the grip of his hand— falls onto the desk with a clatter, while the other, subconsciously slides under the table to hover over his clothed cock. His eyes anxiously dart around the room, making sure there is nobody watching his actions before he slowly starts to unzip his pants. It wasn’t the first time he has masturbated in the middle of class, but he had never done it while you were seated right beside him. If anything, it makes him even more excited— how there’s a very high chance that you could catch his hand pumping up and down his dick from under the desk. Scaramouche leans back in his chair, his head slightly tilting back in relief when he’s finally able to pull his cock out of his pants.

Would you grip onto his hair and whine at him to go faster? While his tongue is lapping up all your juices, his hand gripping onto your thighs for dear life. Or maybe you’d get embarrassed at the weak side you were showing and hold your breath, clamping your hand over your mouth and looking up at the roof so you don’t have to see his how purple hair peeks out from between your thighs. He’d loudly moan into your folds, hump his hips into the mattress to try and rut his cock against the bed. He’s begging you to put your hand on the back of his head and push him deeper into your cunt, as he wants to be as close as possible and have you squirt into his mouth— which he’ll gladly swallow every last drop of.

Yandere Creep!Scaramouche feels his cock twitch happily in his hand when the thought of you, squirting all over his face as you ride out your orgasm enters his mind. His breathing is starting to eradicate with each pump he aligns up and down his cock, and he can feel how his knee keeps quietly thumping against the underside of the desk. Thankfully, you haven’t noticed how he has completely disregarded the lesson up front and instead chose to stare at the side of your face, why one of his arms kept moving up and down at a fast pace, or when he would occasionally whimper under his breath when his thumb rolls over the slit of his cock head.

The first thing he does when he steps foot in his bedroom after class had ended, is run straight to the closet to pull out his sex doll and throws it carefully onto his bed. Impatiently shedding off every piece of clothing while he makes his way over— following suit and straddling the doll while positioning his cock to lay flat against the silicones stomach. “Fucking Christ… that’s right, I’ll service you until your pretty pussy is begging me to fuck it.” Scaramouche is mewling out you name as he humps the doll, his hands latching onto ‘her’ shoulders as his dick rubs up and down ‘her’ body— all while he’s imagining it’s you, wrapping your perfect legs around his waist and pulling him in closer. :(

i was working on ur request and got side tracked. thinking about yan diluc and how bad he wants his captive little darling.. jerking off to the thought of them, moaning their name, so so frustrated and he aches with want. and reader. reader hears it every time, sometimes is witness to it. how desperate he is, how obsessed he is. maybe reader is sometimes awoken by the sound of him while he sleeps next to them. maybe he does it in front of them because he won't hurt you but please, please let him look at you? holding you down while he jacks off, eyes clenched closed so he can pretend it's in you. steadily losing his resolve bit by bit. ohoho my mind is running rampant.

every day. EVERY DAY i think about yan diluc. i am so sorry to my followers but i see a pathetic aristocratic repressed man and i go AHJDVNJKFVDJNKFVkjn.

cw: kidnapping, non-consensual touching, yandere, reader wears a nightgown, diluc's saviour complex. (bondage and being fed in a Non Sexy way) dub-con/non-con.

He makes you sleep in his bed.

It's for precaution, he insists, his crimson gaze not quite meeting your own; to ensure that you're safe. He just feels more comfortable, more assured that you are sheltered from the dangers of the world, if you slumber beside him - if he slips in late at night after whatever business he attends to that has him come back smelling of blood and burning, and sees you peaceful beneath his own coverlets.

You hold your tongue; bite back the insistence that you would be safer if you were not a captive in the house of a madman, if you were permitted your freedom, if he wasn't so selfish and disgusting and monstrous. You have long since learnt such protestations mean nothing to Diluc; he simply bows his head, face anguished, and makes a quiet noise of agreement that he is a monster.

("It is worth it, though," he says, and you see the vision he wears at his hip glow for a moment, "to know that you are safe, beloved.")

One falls quickly into routine when routine is all that one is allowed to partake in. You are permitted only the smallest freedoms; most of your time is spent under Adelinde's watchful eye, trapped in the four walls of the winery, wishing you had appreciated the freedom of Monstadt when you were still able to partake in what the Anemo Archon blessed you with.

And your routine, now, includes . . . slipping on one of the expensive confections of frill and lace and chiffon that Diluc buys you to wear in bed. Spraying some of the perfume that he brings back from his trips, in the vain hope that it will drown out Diluc's own particular cedarwood and vintage wine and iron scent. Slipping beneath the covers and hoping that sleep will come easy to you, that you will not be woken by the inevitable--

You always are. The feel of the bed dipping down beside you; the soft sigh that escapes Diluc's mouth, as the covers are pulled down and you are revealed to his hungry eyes.

The nightgowns are modest; innocent, even. They are all frills and fanciful creams and ivories, georgette sleeves that drape over your shoulders, ruching and delicate lamp-grass embroidery and little ribbons in Diluc's favourite colour (red, it's always red). That just seems to rile him up more.

The feel of a hand, grazing atop of the fabric - his hand searing heat even when he does not fully touch you. The soft little groan of your name, so longing and wanting it almost makes you sick. And then . . . the sound of Diluc's own nightclothes, being displaced. The wet shlick of skin-on-skin, as he touches himself to the sight of your helpless body, whilst he thinks you're sleeping.

You have lost count of the number of times you have woken to the sounds of Diluc touching himself. Your name, gasped out through clenched teeth in heated hisses - praise for you, calling you his darling, so good for him, so beautiful and lovely . . . Calling you his. Mumbling to himself about how pretty you are, how soft and warm and tight he's certain you are as he imagines he is rutting his cock into something other than his fist.

You keep your eyes squeezed shut. You can take this; you can live with this. You can bear it, if all he is going to do is lie beside you and fantasise. You hear the whine when he comes, feel the way his back arches, the way he pants and pants and how the rhythm of his hand and the slick sounds change a little--

He always touches you with those hands, afterwards. Always pulls you against him spoon-fashion. Always drops hot kisses along your throat and drags you against him in such a tight hold you think he fears ever letting go, with his own come drying on the sheets and messing your nightgown.

(It doesn't bother him; he does not do his own laundry, and Adelinde looks at you in the mornings when she comes to strip the beds and gives you an encouraging smile. She had told you, once, when you had been new here and still railing against your imprisonment--

"Master Diluc is lonely," she'd said, sighing, "I have not seen him so happy as he is in your presence for many years."

As she had checked the tightness of your ropes, sharper eyes than one would expect of a maid had met yours.

"I don't need to tell you how much of Monstadt rely on Master Diluc," she says. "On the business of the Dawn Winery? Do you not think that a little unhappiness may be your responsibility to bear?"

"It's barbaric!" You'd snapped back. "He wants me to be . . . some imprisoned bird in a pretty cage!"

Adelinde's face sets like stone. Diluc was away that night; when she had brought up a tray for your dinner, the soup had been stone cold.

"Do you know how many natural predators birds have?" She'd asked you, a falsely polite smile on her face as she ladled the cold soup into your mouth and you had no choice but to swallow it. "Why, I've seen Master Diluc take several out with a single arrow. Perhaps a songbird ought to be glad it is ornamental enough to be spared that fate.")

You should have known that Diluc would not be satisfied with merely lying beside you, having you so close and yet not doing anything about it. The first time his other hand had crept to your thigh, pushing up the lacy hem, your eyes had snapped open.

"Diluc?" You had whispered, softly, into the night - hoping that your voice may be soft enough and persuasive enough to make him ashamed of it. "Wh-what are you doing?"

A ragged voice had answered you.

"I just . . . just let me look at you, darling. Just let me . . . touch you a little--"

Burning hands on bare skin. Diluc, shifting, so he lay on his side - big wine-dark eyes seeking you out in the moonlight filtered through the curtain as he groaned out your name.

"So pretty," he'd said, as he'd pushed the nightgown higher and higher. Bare thighs. bare stomach. The place between your thighs. A soft groan had escaped him at the sight. "Spread your legs for me. Please."

"Diluc--"

"I won't-- I won't hurt you--" He practically tripped over his tongue in his urges. "Please. I just want to look at you, darling, beloved, angel--"

. . . Just look. Just gaze on you. You sleep in the same bed, but you are - now at least - trusted to do such personal matters as bathe and undress on your own. Adelinde had helped, when you were still bound . . . but you had been good, and you had earnt your freedoms. A sob hiccups in your throat as you bare yourself to him. Your cheeks heat at how hungrily his gaze devours you.

"So beautiful," he whines, hand going to his cock - the first time you've seen it, properly. Pretty - thick, long, with a flushed ruddy tip and a gentle curve, soaking precome as his fingers wrap about it. "Please stay like that. Hnn-- Just . . . just let me think about how you feel, I won't hurt you, I promise I promise I promise--"

But just a little turns into more far quicker than people expect. At first it just just looking at you - and then--

"Just let me touch your thighs," Diluc whispers, his breath hot against your cheek as he lavishes the warmed skin with kisses. "Ahh-- hnn, they're so much softer than my hand . . . Is this what you'd feel like . . . inside?"

"Just let me settle between your legs," Diluc begs you. "Just . . . let me hold you by the hip, let me imagine I'm inside of you, darling, please, I need to--"

"Hold my other hand. Please."

"Just . . . against your thighs. Let me rut it against your thighs. I'm begging you, beloved, if you don't I think I shall simply die--"

"Kiss me--"

When he presses it against the cleft of your sex and whispers;

"Just the tip - I promise, my darling. I would never hurt you. Have I ever? Please . . . I simply need to feel every part of you--"

. . . What else can you do, a captive ornamental bird in a fine cage, but accept it? Spread your legs wider and welcome him in?

It was always going to come to this.

It is still a better fate, you suppose, than being shot down in flight.

Hi! I heard that you’re taking in requests! May I ask for a reader who was kidnapped by scaramouche? She was socially isolated to the point stolkholm syndrome kicks in for reader? 🚶🏼‍♀️

summary. socially isolated darling who develops stolkholm syndrome for scaramouche

warnings. general yandere themes, stockholm syndrome, social isolation, breif descriptions of injury, emotional manipulattion/abuse, scara calls you a slut once.

you had been so stupid. so naive to think that scaramouche wouldn't find out about your little fling with one of the fatui lackeys that worked for him. it was risky to even allow feelings to fester for another person, but someone who worked for scaramouche? that was just dangerous. you should've known better.

but, honestly, it couldn't have been helped. he was the one sent to your room after punishments that left you needing medical attention. he was so soft and caring when wrapping bandages around you or applying ointment to heal electrical burns. he talked to you gently and made sure you were okay. he was there for you in a time of need, and you were able to find comfort and safety in him. it was inevitable that feelings would form between the two of you.

it was an accident that scaramouche found out. you don't really know exactly what happened, but you do know that he found out by overhearing his lackeys teasing you're secret lover about his crush on you.

scaramouche was livid. he came into your room, grabbing you roughly and dragging you out. you were scared as you fumbled to keep up with his fast paced steps, but you didn't struggle against him or say anything. you didn't know where you were going until he tossed you onto the hard, cold ground of a cell.

"if you want to be a slut so baddly, then i'll just have to fucking keep you locked up where you'll never see anyone but me ever again." he told you before slamming the door and leaving you there all alone.

you thought he would let you out eventually, but it's been two months since then. it was okay at first, you actually even enjoyed the silence and alone time. but after a while it scared you. you didn't like being alone anymore, and it didn't help that the cell he kept you in was dark and cold, which only made you feel more scared and alone.

right now you were laying in bed, clutching tightly onto the sheets that you held over your head. it had been at least an hour since you've been trying to fall asleep, but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't. you felt like you were going to throw up because of how tired you felt. you were so miserable.

you breath hitched when you suddenly heard the door to your cell creak open, an uncomfortable feeling settling in your stomach when the eerie noise filled your ears. you didn't move, or say anything, just simply layed there, waiting for what would happen.

sometimes he'd come down here to drop off food and the he'd leave, other times he would linger to berate you in some way. you didn't like how cold he was towards you during your time down here, it made you feel so small and helpless, and it just reminded you how badly of a situation you got yourself into — how badly you fucked up.

"y/n." he called, voice cold and emotionless. you didn't answer, merely pulling the sheet tighter around your form. he took that as an opportunity to continue, though.

"you want out, don't you?" you shifted, lifting the sheet only enough to see him standing a little ways from the bed, but you remained quiet. you watched as he walked to where a chair was in the cell and he sat down, leaning back and crossing his arms against his chest. he then looked at you, making you pull the sheet back down to cover yourself.

"just admit that i'm all you need, all that you want, and you can come out." he said, amused.

you held your breath as you contemplate his words, unsure of what to do. you're afraid of admitting he's right — because he is, you do need him, you depend on him, really, but you don't know how to feel about that yet and it scares you to think about it. but then again, you hate it down here, you hate it so much it makes you want to cry just thinking about staying here any longer.

scaramouche takes your long silence as refusal, because before you can muster up something to say, he begins to leave. clicking his tongue, he mutters a 'fine' as he stands from the chair and starts walks towards your cell door.

"wait." you whispered meekly, just barely loud enough for him to hear. "pl—lease... don't leave me here al—lone again."

you couldn't look at him, too ashamed that you finally succumbed to him. but you were so scared, you didn't like being alone and he was here, with you, willing to comfort you and finally let you out of this suffocating cell. you didn't really have a choice but to accept that he really is all that you have or you'd be left down here alone again.

when you think about it, he's really not all that bad. it's just when you upset him that things get scary for you. otherwise he cares about you, makes sure you're okay and well, and he can also be sweet. he'll gently kiss you, call you sweet little nicknames and simply hold you tightly in his arms. he's attractive too, you cannot deny that.

you don't have to keep resisting him, you think. it's pointless and only ends in painful punishments that make you end up regretting you ever defied him. it's okay to give in to him and accept that you're his, you tell yourself reassuringly.

"oh?" he sounded mockingly, turning around to look at your pathetic form that was shivering under the thin sheet. "finally come to our senses, have we?" you flick your eye up to look at him momentarily, and he's smirking down at you like he'd finally won — which technically, he has.

you quickly look away, nodding your head ever so slightly. "please." you hesitate for a moment, tears welling in your eyes as you swallow thickly. "I–I need yo–you."

you don't hear him say anything after that, only the creaking of your cell door closing. you don't look up to see if he left, you just assume that he did.

a whimper escapes your quivering lips and you grip tightly onto the sheets of the matress where you lay. too busy wrapped in the fear of being alone, you don't notice light footsteps walking towards you.

you flinch when a calloused hand touches your cheek, the gentle stroke of a thumb lulling you back into comfort. you look up and see scaramouche sitting crouched in front of you, a soft, barely there smile displayed on his lips.

"shh, sweetheart. there's no need to cry, i'm right here."

ii. to the enduring emperor: mercy, mercy. | 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: adeptus!reader. light hints of guizhong x reader and zhongli x guizhong, if you squint. good things come in threes, after all. not sure if I should write part 3, so feedback/ideas very much appreciated!

word count: 3.5k

When Guizhong dies, your world tilts.

Dear friend… I will be departing first. Those are the last words of your beloved Lord of Dust, before she dissolves into the finest particles. Before she’s dissipated by the grieving wind.

You kneel on wilted glaze lilies, clutching at her fragmenting pieces. Do not go, my lady, you weep. Not without me. But she does not answer. Morax stands beside you, eyes unblinking. He is so very still, inanimate rock to your wrecked sobs. Even when Guizhong had embraced him with her crumbling body, whispered in his ears for a last farewell, he had not said anything.

But beneath it, you know. He is also wavering. He is also dying. Morax remains unblinking, for fear of forgetting. He is memorizing. Memorializing.

As an immortal, you were not familiar with death. So rarely do the adepti die. But in this war, you learn different. You learn that the adepti are immortal until slain. You learn that the gods are powerful, but not powerful enough.

There is a limit to all.

Cursed with this knowledge, you can only watch, a helpless observer, as your lord fades into nothing. You watch as the Guili Assembly is halved—and your heart along with it. Cut into two. Half ground to dust.

The flooded plains are abandoned. The wild glaze lilies are no more. Your sovereigns, supposed eternal and forever under your protection, dwindles from two to one.

Even now, the world is still off-axis. Still tilted.

Millennia pass, but you never learned how to upright it. How to mend it.

In some ways, after Guizhong’s death, Morax is the same. Off-axis. Off-kilter. Broken marble warped into obsidian. One lord dead, the other descending into madness. The assembly disassembled, including Morax’s sanity.

Perhaps Guizhong took it with her when she died.

ꕥ

You do not notice the change wrought upon Morax until much, much later.

It starts small. So small you think nothing of it. After all, it is merely the compassion of a lord in caring for his people. That explains his growing reluctance in sending you into frontlines of the Archon War, as Liyue begins to find its footing again after the flood of Guili Plains.

So, in the beginning, you think nothing of his suffocating concern. Your lord becomes ever-present at your side, coiling dragon of stone wrapped around the clouds above you, as your gleaming blade dances and clashes against enemy gods. However, slowly but surely, stone spears are the first to pierce the heart of any who dare to intrude your vicinity. Your sword becomes dull. It no longer sings.

But when you bring this up to Cloud Retainer, she brushes you off. “You think too much. Rex Lapis is merely concerned for your safety.”

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playing hard to get [pt. 1]

as you were a person of bubbly character, he'd gotten used to your bright and cheerful nature, and the ridiculous shenanigans that came along with it. that included your numerous tries to woo him into dating you, with each attempt ending in failure. you weren't too depressed by it, returning to your usual jovial personality even after rejections... and he'd taken that for granted. he didn't expect you to do the “push-and-pull” tactic on him, and neither did he expect it'd work so well.

includes: diluc, xiao & childe

pt. 2 - zhongli, albedo & kazuha

pt. 3 - ayato & heizou

DILUC wasn't too pleased to see you at angel's share so often at the beginning, but he eventually got used to your presence — begrudgingly, of course. there would be no way he was anticipating your visits, that's plain absurd. he just so happened to be the bartender that time, and you were the one coming to see him, not the other way around. that said, you don't approach him the moment you step foot inside; you made it a habit to converse with other customers first before taking a seat on a bar stool, showering DILUC with the usual compliments and idle chatter. it never seems like he listened properly to whatever you were saying, too busy mixing drinks and wiping glasses, but you knew he was. on what basis? a hunch. which wasn't all that trustworthy, but you wholeheartedly believe in it.

this night didn't start out differently from the rest. the door swung open, and his eyes flickered to the newcomer. ah, it was you, strolling up toward a table with your acquaintances. nothing out of the ordinary. but time passed: half an hour had gone by, then another, and then... huh, it's awfully late. it was right about the time you usually left- hey, wait, you're already leaving? DILUC was nearly startled into dropping a glass, and it wasn't his proudest moment. why were you going when you haven't said a single word to him?

“you're leaving?”

you knew you'd won the second he uttered those words. you spun on your heel, looking almost smug, and DILUC had never felt so defeated before. “yes, i have an early start tomorrow, so i'm afraid i don't have the time to chat right now.” he wanted to argue that you had enough time to chat with the other patrons, he really did, but he'd only look like an immature fool.

he placed down the wine glass in his hands, sighing. “would you allow me to accompany you home?”

oh, you've won, alright.

XIAO was often the receiving end of your pointless chatter, ranging from complaints from an exhausting day at work to trivial matters like what you were planning to have for dinner that evening. it was an arrangement XIAO never signed up for — somehow, you'd gotten a hold of his usual spot at wangshu inn and made it a habit to sit next to him whenever you were free and proceed to fill his ears with useless blabbering. he thought of it as a mild inconvenience, and told you as such: “your presence is irritating.”

you seemed a little shaken then, frozen in shock for a split second. but your expression warmed into a sheepish smile, and it looked somewhat stiff, but XIAO made no move to comment on it. “is that what you really think?” he didn't feel inclined to nod, nor did he deny it.

perhaps he should've.

you didn't visit the next day, or the next, or even the next after that. XIAO thought nothing of it at first, since it wasn't odd for you to miss visits on consecutive days. but you didn't come for a week, and then another, and-

he was tired of turning around to look behind him each time he heard footsteps padding against the floor, only to be devasted to not see the person he was expecting. it was certainly strange... how come you never paid him a visit? you've never gone for so long without seeing him, which obviously meant the same for him, and he'd been feeling antsy without the assurance you were alive and well. verr goldet had told him you were only busy with your job, but he needed to confirm it with his own eyes.

he was just about ready to give up waiting for you that day and head off to his own room when his ears picked up on the sound of creaking from the stairs. he glanced at its direction, mentally prepared to be disappointed, only to see... you, hesitant to step closer. oh. it was actually you.

his heart fluttered in glee and you nervously laughed, “oh, sorry, i didn't think you were still here... yanxiao asked me to fetch a couple of things for him and it was late so i didn't assume you'd still be around.”

your words were deaf to his ears as XIAO himself approached you with his own feet. and, well, if he'd walked with hurried strides or accidentally slipped a smile or two, then nobody could blame him.

CHILDE could be described as mean. not a total douchebag, but pretty close to it — even scaramouche had dubbed him as such, and it wasn't just because he disliked the fellow harbinger.

CHILDE was fully aware of his own charm, and though he wasn't one to boast about it, he knew how attractive he was: physical features aside, he was good at fighting, and he knew how to cook, not to mention he had an overwhelming wealth to brag for. it wasn't unusual for people to flock over him to curry his favor, and he'd be lying if he said he disliked it.

he had a terrible hobby, you see. CHILDE would set his eyes on a particular person that piqued his interest, shower them with attention, gift them with whatever they could ever ask for, and treat them with nothing but kindness. but then he'd act distant the next moment, indifferent to their advances, until that person would become impatient and take the initiative themself. he found satisfaction in the way someone would beg for his affection, the way they clung to him so desperately... and yet he'd grow tired of them once the fun was over, and he'd repeat the process again. a heartbreaker at his core.

at the beginning, you were just that — another pitiful victim to CHILDE's whims. you were so, so gullible, so easy to please. you smiled at every insincere compliment, gasped at even the cheapest of presents. “thank you,” you'd say each time, genuine gratitude plastered all over your expression, and CHILDE would feel the tiniest twinge of guilt squeezing his heart. his conscience was screaming at him to stop.

but more than anything, he wondered what you would do if he ignored you altogether.

he thought you'd be adorable, shyly grasping the back of his shirt to ask him out on a date yourself. he wanted to see that, to tease you for being so straightforward. and maybe he'd even take you seriously, something he'd never done before. you were a special case, after all; the idea of dating you was... nice. he'd treat you even better than before, treasure you to the best of his abilities. he'd give you anything you asked for.

but you didn't seek him out. no, you never paid him any mind, batted an eyelash at his sudden absence. you weren't bothered by his disappearance at all, just as cheerful as you've always been, and he didn't like that. he didn't like that at all. he didn't want to see you being fine without him, when he'd been aching from distancing himself from you. it was unfair. he wanted you to long for him the same way he longed for you.

and at his wit's end when he knocked on your door at late evening, coming face to face with your knowing smile, he knew he got a taste of his own medicine.

— YANDERE! MALEWIFE GENSHIN AU part one

⇢ venti, albedo, bennett, diluc, kaeya, razor

introducing! a nagging from your boss and the side effects of overworking is definitely taking a toll on your body, but luckily you have your husband to take care of you! as people of mondstadt, their culture has taught them to treat their lovers with the warmest hospitality they can manage! so just sit back and let them do everything from here on out! … oh, and why do you smell like someone else’s perfume? + 3.4k words

warning! obsessiveness, possessiveness, creepy behavior (fuckin venti), manipulation, jealousy takes place in modern teyvat

a/n! this fic legit got me procrastinating 💀 tried out a new style and it was so fucking long I ended up putting this off for months. an aquarius at their finest

― WINDBORNE BARD. venti | 温迪

[ “you’re home! thank barbatos, i was about to die if you didn’t come soon!” ]

⇢ to think that the sloppy bard you met at the winery all those years ago would now be your husband… love really is a mystery

⇢ you’re well-aware that venti has little to no house managing skills whatsoever, but anemo visions really do come in handy, so cleaning up the house while you’re gone is an easy task for him. his real talent in being a husband shines when you’re finally home

⇢ true to his nature as a bard, venti’s songs never fail to make you relax. after a day of cleaning up after your co-workers and getting run ragged by your boss, venti’s sweet voice and lyre is just what you need to take the pain away.

⇢ he’s quite doting too! although he doesn’t have many recipes up his arsenal, venti excells in homemade food that are warm and comforting, the kind that truly makes you feel at home. he’s a sucker for compliments too! so keep praising him and his good efforts, alright?

⇢ your husband is quite the alcoholic, and it’s times like these where his true nature tends to shine through. whether it be at the tavern or at home, his endless rambling could be shrugged off as the produce of alcohol, but to the more perceptive friends of his… they’re just downright obsessive

⇢ he sings songs of praise about you, from the twinkle in your eye to your hard work and perseverance to the XXXX ! XXX ♡! XX ♡ XX?!?!! ♡♡♡ of your XXXX! XX ♡ ANd .. oops… did he ramble too much again?

⇢ sometimes, when the memories are too much, he comes to your touch seeking for comfort, but sometimes he’s too handsy for your comfort, the words tumbling out of his mouth in a liqour daze too disturbing for your liking

“perfect…” he mumbles, mouthing against the skin of your collarbone and holding your hands in what is supposed to be a tender touch. instead, his nails grip too tight and he presses his hot forehead against yours. your breath hitches.

green eyes bursting with hearts and adoration, a drunken blush covering his cheeks as he giggles against your lips. the very picture of obsession.

“as i expected,” he breathes out, his nails drawing out blood from your skin.

“you really are a mortal worthy of my songs.”

[ “i’ve devoted my everything to you… won’t you grant me a little favor?” ]

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