Consensual Somnophilia W Scara?

I really want to fluster both housewife! and Academy! Scara 🥰🥰🥰

(I love his toothpaste like color palette and his mischievous face his face in the reveal)

academy! scara and housewife! scara are two alternate universes... but here i put them so they'd be in the same timeline... just for the fantasy of having two scaras by my side <3

you might like: yan! academy scara hcs, yan! housewife! scara hcs

( mentions of murder, mentions of cheating )

"n– no way..."

the little one wearing an elegant uniform stares at the scene in unabashed horror, slowly backing away from the horror in front of him. this can't be... it shouldn't be... how in the world could he have done this to himself!

he hits the couch and he falls back into it, but his shaking eyes still look at them with both fury and fear.

with a shaky, accusing finger, the student scara points up at the culprits, who still curiously stare at him:

"why am i the housewife?!"

you answer with a shit-eating grin, bringing your equally appalled kuni closer to you.

"the real question is: why not?"

the tea lays untouched on the coffee table as the two kunis glare at each other in a tense silence. you sit in the middle, grinning nervously as you sip from your own cup.

this is exactly your dream come true, literally. just the night before you dreamt of how you met kuni back in school, and how you wished to see that inexperienced cutie again. it never occurred to you that your wish would actually come true... but now you know that kuni would never get along with himself.

"love..." you try coaxing your partner. the younger one's scowl deepens at the corny nickname. "come on, at least try to get along with him for the time being. it's just you, but younger–!"

"that doesn't fucking mean i have to get along with this brat!"

"who the fuck are you calling a brat?!"

you sigh once more as yelling and bickering ensues between the two of them.

"why is he here anyway?" kuni huffs, taking a seat next to you and huddling closer. he doesn't miss the way scara's eyes flash when he drapes himself all over you, and smiles smugly in victory. he turns to look up at your nervous face and narrows his brows. "hey. you look like you know something."

you try to look away from his probing eyes, but kuni pouts and grabs your cheeks to turn you back to him. "hey. tell. me!"

"mmm... well, i might have wished it...?"

the two widen their eyes, but scara covers up his shock with a bit more disgust as he inches farther away from you. "... pervert."

kuni looks a bit more heartbroken than his younger counterpart. and... a bit more... oh. you know this look. "you... wished? you wished for another me...?" ugh... you'd really like it he didn't do this in front of the younger scara, who looks absolutely lost about what's happening. you wanted to look cool in front of him, dammit! "am i not enough for you? huh?" he starts shaking you by the shoulder, already sitting on your lap and looking manic. "do you think i don't satisfy you anymore?!"

"kuni... kuni, please, you know i love you..."

"then why—!"

SLAM! you jolt as scara slams his teacup against the table. he hovers over the both of you with the glare you were so familiar with back in school. "this is pathetic." he nearly spits, lips curling in spite at his counterpart. "this needy... pathetic thing is supposed to be me? when i worked my ass off so i wouldn't be overshadowed by my sisters? and now..." his purple eyes turn to you, absolutely seething.

"i'm depending on the fucking charity student?"

kuni pulls away from you, standing face to face with scara. while the two are having a stare-off, you're just completely lost in your own fantasies. two kunis... standing over you... wow he hasn't grown an inch over the years... but two kunis.

"if you hate it so much then why don't you leave."

scara sneers right back. "oh i could if i would. but i need to go back to my time and the one who brought me here is the peasant."

"i'm going to fucking kill you."

"oh let's see how well that's going to go for you, future me."

before your pretty wife and his younger self could actually try and kill each other, you step in before things could get hotter worse. "that's... that's enough alright? we'll try to send younger you back to his time. i'm sure he has tons of studying to get back to..."

kuni glares at you. "we? you brought this upon yourself! have fun playing around with some other man, cheater!" he turns to leave, but you grab him by the arm and pull him closer to you.

"oh come on baby," you whine, fingering his tiny waist as you pout. "it was just a little fantasy of mine. two kunis by my side, y'know? that's how much i love you!"

kuni blushes as you shower kisses on his neck and cheek, trying to push you away while he's cherry red. "p-pervert! not– not in front of me—!"

speaking of his younger self... you turn to scara, who is staring the both of you with the same wide-eyed blush your wife is wearing. when his nervous eyes catch yours, he tries to scowl, but it's clear that he's just as embarrassed and needy as his counterpart.

"little kuni~ ♡" you coo, mischievous smirk painting your features already. "do you want to join in?"

steam seems to blow out of his ears as he's taken aback by such a shameless invitation. "wh– why would i want that?! w-weirdo!"

"oh come on!" you laugh. you flop down on the couch with your needy partner seated on one knee and grin up at scara. "i knew of your cute little crush ever since we were first-years, y'know?"

"you did?!"

both versions seem even more flustered than before, if that was possible. you give a lighthearted laugh before bringing scara on your lap and to your chest. you brush their identical purple bangs and press a kiss on their lips.

what a delight. two identical kunis looking up at you all teary-eyed and weak from a single kiss. you really are a pervert, doing this to your pretty little wife.

"you're the same person, aren't you?" you grin. "so this won't count as cheating, right~?"

Disorder [Yandere Xiao x Reader]

Title: Disorder [Yandere Xiao x Reader]

Synopsis: Xiao is not often injured. Yet the words that come out of your mouth are unmistakable: “You’re sick.”

For Horrorfest request: Xiao +’ We’re only as sick as our secrets ’

Word Count: 1095

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of non-graphic noncon

Xiao is not often injured. Not seriously. Yes, there has been blood… much blood… spilled over the years–and the years and the years and the years. It’s not cockiness for him to consider the fact that, for the most part, he comes away from his missions, from his fights, only barely scratched by the swords and hands and magic of others.

That strength and resilience, in the face of it all–especially in the face of his own karma, fire-hot and painful–is exactly what pushed him towards the edge when it came to you. What sent him over that frail, teetering cliff and made him take the final step to keep you safe. 

Keep reading

Title: Damaged Goods.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x F. Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.6k.

TW: Sex Doll Au, Oral Sex, Unhealthy Relationships, Themes of Past Abuse, and Slight Manipulation.

You really had to do something about his back.

You couldn’t imagine why you hadn’t gotten around to it already. There were more pressing issues, sure – when you’d first found Scaramouche, curled up in the alleyway behind a dive bar you’d never take him back to, he’d been missing his entire right arm below the elbow and his left ankle had been visibly beaten in with something very heavy and very powerful – but against all reason, his back had been the only thing to make you actually, physically cringe after you’d gotten him home and into your workshop. If you didn’t know better, you would’ve said he’d been caught in a fire, that someone had taken a blowtorch to the synthetic skin between his shoulder blades and the base of his spine and held it there until plastic melted into metal, until everything was charred enough to blackened, but not so burnt as to damage any of the vital mechanisms underneath. It’d take a few hours, but it wouldn’t be very hard, even if he’d pout for a while when you told him he’d have to be powered off for the repair. You had the right tools for it, but you'd need to order—

A mouth latched onto the inside of your thigh, a cold tongue lapping over your skin before two pointed teeth found their mark, biting down with a purposeful kind of harshness. You hissed, straightening your back, your hand shooting to his head and your fingers tangling themselves in his hair, dragging him away from you. There was a sharp whine of protest, followed by a disappointed groan, but you tried not to pay it any mind. “Scara?”

He blinked slowly, tilted his head back to lean into your palm. Despite that, his tone was snipped, hostile, like you'd been the one to hide yourself away underneath his worktable and bite at his legs while he was trying to work. “What do you want?”

“I thought we agreed that we were just spending time together, today.” Calm, composed, even. Not overly soft, but not too strict, either, lest he decide that he'd rather spend the day looking for expensive things to break. “No playing in the workshop, remember? It’s too dangerous.”

It wasn’t a bad excuse. The project you were currently working on – a pair of color-changing eyes for a very spoiled Ayato – wasn’t incredibly demanding, but you didn’t want him to start to think that a room full of very sharp, very temperamental tools was a good place to eat you out. Still, Scaramouche scoffed, rolling his eyes. Either unconvinced, or too apathetic towards his own safety to really care. “Don’t talk to me like that,” He muttered, shifting on his knees. You’d been tinkering with his bad ankle earlier, and his foot was still hanging loosely from his calf, only connected by a few strands of braided wiring. You’d have to reattach it later on, after smoothing out a few dents in his endoskeleton. He said you didn’t have to, that it was all superficial, but he’d been starting to limp, and as a mechanic, you couldn’t leave your own android in such a state of disrepair. “I’m not a dog. Just say you don’t want me to bother you.”

“It’s not like that.” It genuinely wasn’t. When he wasn’t sulking or sucking hickeys into whatever you gave him access to, he was good company, a good assistant, and you liked having a second pair of hands to go over your work – even if he always slipped in a snide comment about how inelegant the androids you repaired were when compared to his craftsmanship. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. When you’re fixed up, we’ll see, but right now…”

You trailed off, doing your best to shrug apologetically. He only scowled, looked away, dropped low enough to rest his cheek against your thigh in a way that (in your own defense) wasn’t totally unlike a kicked puppy. “You don’t want me.”

Pursing your lips, you pushed yourself away from your worktable, giving him that much more room to lean into you, to lay his head in your lap as you carded your fingers through his hair. “Look, Scara,” You started, and when he didn’t cut you off or try to walk away, “What do you want to do?”

His answer was short, predictable. “Make you happy.”

Meaning, in his vocabulary, make you cum. Considering his position, you could probably guess how he planned to do it, too.

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it.”

With a sigh, you let your head lull to the side, dropping your hand to the back of his neck. “Once,” You said, with as much emphasis you can manage. “And then I need to get back to—”

He didn’t wait for you to finish, didn’t even give you a chance to. In a fraction of a second, your shorts were pulled off, your panties pushed to the side, and his tongue buried in your cunt, pushing hasty, sloppy patterns into your slit. You could feel his hands wrap around your thighs, a row of blunt nails digging harshly into soft flesh, and you winced, but didn’t pull away, didn’t tell him to stop and loosen up. He was clearly feeling insecure, even if you couldn’t tell exactly why. The least you could do was let him get a little rough.

Instead of correcting him, you tried to focus on his lips sealing around your clit, sucking just harshly enough to send a spike of sudden, searing electricity down your spine before his eagerness won over, before he went back to fucking his tongue into you in short, shallow thrusts. He didn’t have to breathe, an underappreciated courtesy of not being built with lungs, but you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty at his neediness, at just how eager he seemed to bury himself inside of you as deeply as he possibly could. His memory card had been wiped twice over, every databank you had access to completely cleared, but still, you couldn’t help but think of it as a holdover, something as deeply ingrained into him as the burn scars painted across his back - deeper, even. That damage, you couldn't smooth over with a few hours of work and spare parts.

“Easy, now,” You mumbled, your voice low but clearly audible. If he heard you, though, he wasn't paying attention, didn’t make any effort to actually listen. If anything, his movements only grew more intense, his tongue curling against your walls as he moaned – the reverberation drawing a sharp, airy gasp out of you. You’d tested other companion droids before, tried everything from Capitano to Venti, but Scaramouche was the first android who’d ever genuinely needed to get you off – or, at least, that first who was able to put on a good enough act to make it seem that way. It was worse when you actually had time to let him fuck you, when you could give him the hours he needed to rut into your pussy until his stores were empty and his battery was nearly dead, until you were too exhausted and too overstimulated to tell him to stop before he managed to exacerbate any of the injuries you had yet to patch up. He liked being the center of your attention, liked being close to you. It seemed like he thought, in his own words, 'making you happy' was the best way to accomplish that.

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t the way an android was supposed to function. You knew that his behavior was irrational, that he didn’t listen to direct orders, that no companion droid should ever be so stubborn, so eager to soak in your affection while simultaneously doing whatever he could to deflect it. You knew that, if it was one of your clients, you’d suggest that they contact Teyvat's resources, that they either return their droid immediately or power them down indefinitely. You knew that he was a little too manic, and a little too frantic, and...

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to mind. Not really. Not when it came to your droid, at least. Not when it came to your Scaramouche.

He nuzzled further into you, his nose grinding against your clit, and you clenched your eyes shut, lurching forward and taking up his hair, again, half as a reward and half as a means of keeping him as close as you possibly could. Not that he needed your help. With another squeeze to your thighs, another pitchy moan, you were crying out, coming undone on his tongue minutes after he decided he needed you to. You let him nurse you through it, only tugging him away when the first pangs of overstimulation started to set in. He started to whine, to protest, but bit his tongue, his dignity winning out over his desperation. That was something you liked about Scaramouche. He was cute when he couldn’t decide what he really wanted.

You smiled, tapped your thigh, and without hesitation, he clambered into your lap, only momentarily fazed by the fact that he was still missing a foot. You could see his flushed cheeks as he straddled your waist, feel his cock pressing into your stomach, but he didn’t complain, didn’t say a word as he wrapped his arms around your neck, burying his face in your chest. You’d have to pry him away eventually, get him to sit still just long enough for you to finish his ankle, but that could wait.

Like his back - like everything about Scaramouche - you were sure it'd be fine if you waited just a little bit longer.

Another Kazoo x Xiao smut pls🛐

How about one where Kazoo is out of town for like a week and Xiao is basically a devil the way he fucks you day and night. And when Kazuha calls the both of you to check on you two Xiao just keeps the phone on speaker while he pounds you and all you can do is moan helplessly as Kazuha's not here to save you from Xiao.

Oooooh I like ♡

warnings: dub-con, crying, bimbo reader, dumbification, overstimulation

Xiao doesn't want you to cry. He really doesn't.

"j-just a little longer, okay?" He tries to soothe you as you wail and kick your legs, his veiny cock driving in and out of your poor sore cunny.

Honestly this was a dream come true for Xiao. Kazuha was out of town and wouldn't be back until next week.

That means he gets you all to himself. That means he gets to fuck you without restraint. He's already done so three days in a row.

He's already came inside you like...maybe 6 times during this session? And you're overflowing with his seed. It makes a wet squelching sound every time Xiao thrusts his cock back in because of it but he won't stop until he's dry.

"I love you, love you, love you," Xiao chants tiredly, a red hue covering his face as he admires your messy expression.

You're wiping your eyes, sniffs and hiccups escaping your chest until a loud shrill melody starts playing nearby.

"s-shit," Xiao growls before reaching over to clumsily grab the phone. He doesn't even want to be separated from you for a millisecond.

When he reads the caller id, his heart drops when he sees it's Kazuha. But he had to pick up.

"hey, kazuha." Xiao pants, trying to seem as normal as possible. But his hips won't stop rutting into you.

Your eyes grow wide and you reach out to the phone with a teary expression. "K-kazuha-"

Xiao quickly covers your mouth with his hand, glaring at you to stay quiet.

"Xiao? Why did you pick up? Where's y/n?" Kazuha demands immediately.

Damn him for being so observant.

"she's fine, um. She's taking a shower." Xiao lies as your whining and sniveling comes out muffled.

"shh, shh, it's okay, shh," Xiao's trying to shut you up but you keep crying and making a fuss. Maybe he should've tied you down.

"okay..well what are you up to?" Kazuha asks.

Fuck, xiao feels it coming that he can't even reply. His abodemen is tightening up and your walls are pulsating around him.

Your legs are shaking as your eyes roll back, the nearing orgasm overtaking your mind instead of kazuha.

"o-oh fuck," Xiao swears, his eyes screwing shut until kazuha's voice brings him out of it.

"...Xiao. I hope you're not doing what I think you are." Kazuha says lowly.

theres a pause before Xiao stares down at you, the gears in his head turning.

You know what? Screw the rules.

Screw kazuha.

Xiao would deal with the consequences later but right now, kazuha was miles away from your rescue and won't be able to do a thing to keep Xiao from taking what's his.

He removes his hand, allowing you to gasp for air and cough. He moves the speaker over to you to make sure kazuha would hear everything as you two reached your climaxes together.

"k-kazuha, it hurts-" your sobbing is mixed with moans as Xiao picks up the pace, his slamming turning more violent.

Kazuha doesn't respond, the obscene sloshing and skin slapping against skin filling the room as Xiao grunts and grabs your wrist to kiss and sink his teeth into.

"G-good girl. Tell kazuha you're gonna cum." Xiao murmurs out as you squeal and arch your back when he rubs your clit using your own fingers.

"c-cumming! I'm cumming kazuha!"

Your veins are filled with fire, your intense orgasm blinding you as your brain turns to instant mush.

You can't comprehend anything anymore. You don't know that Xiao's shooting his hot load inside your womb again, his entire body trembling from exhaustion as he licks all the sweat and stickiness from your stomach.

The phone is discarded, lying down beside your head as Xiao continues to smother your worn body with kisses.

Kazuha doesn't even say anything, he just hangs up after listening to the whole ordeal.

Xiao was gonna be in so much trouble but it was so fucking worth it.

Upholding a Promise

Part 2 to Handle with Care

The lovely @genuinelydisappointed​ commissioned me for a part two to the Capitano fic I posted earlier this week! I had a lot of fun with this so I hope you all enjoy reading <3

Warnings:  yandere! Capitano, unhealthy relationship dynamics, threat of violence, fantasy hierarchies, nsfw, female reader, marriage, dub-con, oral female receiving

A settlement for soldiers was exactly the kind of inhospitable surrounding you’d anticipated when Capitano had ordered you to come along with him. Not one aspect of it turned out to be not as bad as you’d expected.

The atmosphere was stifling, the barracks were loud, the soldiers were either training or drunk (despite the clear intolerance of their leader to the practice) and there wasn’t a lot of room where you could walk around without feeling discomfort.

Consequently, you largely just stayed in the general area of Capitano’s quarters. The current settlement had been made on an abandoned village, though you doubted whether it’d been abandoned when the Fatui soldiers arrived, since you found knick-knacks and supplies in every cupboard and closet. 

Your husband had claimed a house on the far-end of the settlement, but he rarely spent time here, and you largely reckoned he’d only chosen this place to keep you out of the proceedings. It wasn’t something you wanted to argue, since you agreed with him that in the midst of war preparations wasn’t somewhere you should be.

Keep reading

Yan Genshin Boys / Sleeping Arrangements.

Childe

Childe goes for the classic fake out, further proving that you’ll never catch a break. He’ll seemingly be out like a light, an arm loosely thrown over your waist, snoring softly into the pillow. You can even say his name a few times and he won’t budge. However, the second you start to wriggle out of his hold, it turns ironclad. The air is all but knocked out of your lungs from the strength behind his grip. He’ll then whisper in this husky, low voice, where do you think you’re going? So much for that. He occasionally makes jokes that he might need to buy some chains if you keep getting rowdy at night. At least, you think they’re jokes because he laughs at them, but you get a sense he might be serious. He favors resting his chin atop your head and holding you flush against his chest from that point onward. Good luck trying to get out of his hold, it’s not going to happen. 

Diluc

In true repressed Victorian ‘gentleman’ fashion, he doesn’t dare sleep in the same bed as you unless you specifically request it. Even then, he has his reservations. He was already struggling to maintain a veneer of propriety when you were clothed in layers from head to toe, now he’s got to stay strong when you’re wearing flimsy night clothes…? Of course, he’ll never reveal this as the reason behind his hesitation. Since you’re got him wrapped around your little finger, if you keep on insisting, he’ll give in eventually. Having him around is honestly not a bad idea in the winter, he radiates warmth. He’s so determined to stay on his side of the bed that you wonder if he thinks the world itself would end should he cross the invisible divide. You’ll very rarely wake up to him in the mornings since he’s such a busy man, but when you do, you’ll discover his hand had found yours sometime during the night. His face will turn the same shade as his hair when he learns of this. 

Kaeya

One might think the Calvary Captain runs low on energy when a day full of his schemes comes to its conclusion, but it’s quite the opposite. He thinks that this makes for a great time to catch up with you. He’ll slide under the covers and regale you with the shenanigans he’s witnessed lately. What’s annoying about it is that he’s such a naturally gifted storyteller, so you can’t help but get invested, no matter how hard you try to project apathy. You’ve learned more about the people of Mondstadt during his subjugation than you have living there for years. He’ll get to the juiciest part of a story and then leave you hanging unless you cuddle with him. If you have trouble sleeping, he’s unexpectedly good at soothing the issue, he’ll play with your hair and whisper in that deep voice of his until you’re out for the night. It’s probably the closest thing to tenderness without any ulterior motive that you’ll ever get from him. 

Zhongli

Zhongli’s more inclined to work around your preferences than the others, to an extent. He feels it’s advantageous for you to feel in charge when it comes to smaller details, so you’re more willing to overlook the control he has over the rest of your life. If you’re willing to sleep in the same bed as him, he makes no disruptive movements and prioritizes letting you rest up well for the day ahead. Sleep isn’t a must for Zhongli, yet to fully experience the life of a mortal, he gives it his best shot. There’s nothing he adores more than if you tend to talk or grumble in your sleep. While you’re conscious, there’s a filter in place that prevents you from saying anything regrettable; a feature not found when slumber reigns. He most definitely will try talking to you in a gentle whisper to coax out any secrets your lips would be otherwise sealed to. 

Albedo

Albedo is another who doesn’t really need sleep, but he enjoys all the bonding possibilities that come with sleeping side by side. He’s good at telling when you’re in REM and always asks you about your dreams the next morning, finding the information pivotal to better understanding you. He can’t help but think about how less lonely you make his otherwise secluded lifestyle. Most of his night consists of him pondering different matters relating to you, from what he should make for breakfast to envisioning your future. If he’s noticed you aren’t a light sleeper, he may feel bold enough to kiss your shoulder or clavicle since you can’t object. He’s able to gain a better understanding of your anatomy from the hours he spends committing your appearance to memory. It’s no wonder that his drawings of you are so lifelike down to the last detail — he can practically model you in his mind in anyway he sees fit. 

Xiao

You have to passionately plead your case to convince him to quote, ‘stop being weird’, end quote. If it weren’t for your interference, he’d see no issue with standing in the corner and staring at you all night. Xiao still doesn’t understand why you’re so huffy about his preference, but if it means giving you one less thing to complain about, then he guesses he can go along with it. Since adepti don’t really need sleep in the same way mortals do, he never thought he’d see the appeal in lying down and doing nothing for eight or so hours, but you’re starting to make him curious. You’ll be readjusting one night when you unexpectedly meet resistance akin to slamming into a brick wall. As it turns out, it’s Xiao’s chest, and he’s just been chilling there as if it was the most normal thing ever. Getting back to sleep after that scare is a tricky endeavor. He’ll quietly reassure that he isn’t doing anything depraved, which is almost stranger in a way. He really is just sitting there for hours and observing. It makes your skin crawl. 

Scaramouche

He actually sputtered in offense when you questioned what he was doing the first time his arms snaked around your waist. His grip was way too tight to be comfortable, for one, and his head was so close to your neck that his hair kept tickling the exposed skin. He grumbled about how ‘overdramatic’ you were despite the fact your lungs were actually crying out for air. This is what couples do, is it not? He’s mostly just embarrassed that his desperation for skin-to-skin contact came out so obvious. Proceeds to tone it down a touch by at least allowing your respiratory system to carry on uninhibited, generous lover that he is. Fortunately for you, he naturally relaxes his hold as the night progresses, and tends to curl into a fetal position. You can expect to hear gentle whimpers of your name that he violently denies should you ever bring it to his attention come morning. He’ll similarly combust on the spot if you refer to what he’s doing as ‘cuddling.’ No, this isn’t cuddling, it’s… being in close contact with another! Are you such a dullard that you can’t tell the difference? (He will die on this hill).

Kazuha

You grow increasingly convinced by the day that beneath his soft-spoken and gentle exterior, there lies a true mastermind. It’s suspicious how, despite his many survival skills, your campfire always seems to dwindle when the moon is high in the sky. How convenient is that? Then you have no choice but to snuggle up against him in your tent for warmth. You have no idea how he does it and he’ll innocently deny any accusations you send his way. Kazuha allows for some space between you if you demand it, but starts inching closer when he can tell you’ve fallen asleep by your breathing. No one can rival his stealthiness. He forces himself to stay awake no matter how exhausted he may be so he can admire your features. Sometimes, he’ll brush his fingers over the various grooves of your face, the touch so featherlight that you’ll remain none the wiser. He kinda considers this time as the best outlet to get his creepy urges out. For this reason, he’s always in an extra good mood when it starts to get dark out. You’d be right in thinking you probably don’t want to know why. 

I’m thinking of General Gorou. General Gorou who goes into heat every few months of the year, and his sweet subordinate who wonders why he holes himself in his tent during extended periods. His sweet subordinate who also gets too curious for their own good that they sneak to his tent one night and pokes their head through the flaps ever so slightly—which they shouldn’t.

Everyone’s told to not bother General Gorou during his private months. They respect him. They follow the rules. But not you. You, his sweet yet disobedient subordinate who takes a peak to see General Gorou—the ever so brave and strong soldier—whining and groaning and huffing as he desperately tugs at his shaft, ears twitching and eyes filled with tears. General Gorou who is in heat; he’s vulnerable and desperate and his tip is blazing red with the utter need to come again and again.

And you, his sweet and cute subordinate swallowing your shock and trying to contain yourself even though you can feel the heat rushing up your neck and burning your ears. Oh goodness, how hot the scene before you was.

General Gorou’s sensitive, and he smells your arousal. His eyes looking up to see his most favorite underling, watching him at such a pathetic state. Is he embarrassed? No. But does he stop? No.

He thinks you’re here to help him. What a sweet person you are. He spread his legs, hand fondling his balls as he tugs at his cock with the other. He looks at you with those big turquoise eyes, pleading and eager. He whines and whimpers at you to come and help him out. He’ll repay you, he says. He trusts you, he praises. He promises he’ll be good for you.

And fuck… you didn’t dare say no. Not when he looked so good—so fucking delicious. You go to him, help him, and listen to everything he wants. You do it. You kiss him and caress him, you replace his hands with yours and you put your mouth on his throbbing tip until he bursts ropes of cum down your throat. Yet he still hasn’t had enough.

General Gorou would selfishly take everything from you for himself. He’s in heat and all his mind can think about is to be buried deep inside of your sopping wet heat. He’ll press you down deep into his mattress, legs up against your chest, and his lips sloppily against your as he ruts his sensitive cock into you. He plans to breed you—to knot you.

You’re his sweet subordinate after all. He could do anything he wanted with you. You promised you’d let him—a promise given through pants and moans and mewls as General Gorou desperately fucks his cum over and over again into you. Oh archons, but it was so good you couldn’t stop him. Not even when your legs are shaking and numb and you’re about to pass out from overstimulation.

You’re a wonderful soldier of his after all. You would do anything to please General Gorou.

ᵔᴗᵔ . . 𝗮𝗱𝗺𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝗮𝗳𝗮𝗿 !

ᴖ.ᴖ . . fem! reader ⁝ wc. 1.2k ⁝ reblog

𝘀𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗰𝗵𝗲 [𝗯𝗮𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗲𝗿]

“if only you can talk…” you crouch on the ground to pet your cat. it watches you curiously. tilting its head, it meows back at you.

come as no surprise, you find a lone lavender melon waiting on your kitchen window sill. inspecting the fruit in hand, you note that it was a day early from growing ripe. whoever left it must’ve factored in the timeframe of when you’d stumble upon it.

it previously bewildered you to see them appear without fail considering it was situated on your moody companion’s claimed surface area. you were thoroughly impressed to see that you had yet to be faced with complaints of a cat attack. after all, it was rather protective of you and your home.

members of the village know what an enormous grump it is; even hissing at greetings or coos from kind strangers.

today ultimately marks the nth moment you received a little present from your supposed ‘admirer.’ frankly speaking, you beg to differ. why would an admirer leave fruit instead of flowers? it made no sense. you’re more likely to believe that it’s simply a good samaritan and nothing more.

you tried to actively gather information from your neighbors in the past. alas, it was all for naught. they couldn’t give you anything useful, it was too vague, stating he’s an unfamiliar face wandering the quaint village. placing the lavender melon in a water filled basin, you carefully wash it and place it in a bowl with other fruits you were waiting to ripen.

with that out of the way, you prepare for your travel to town. slipping on your boots, you sense the unwavering glower of your companion. you guess it wouldn’t hurt to bring it along with, you just window shopping for future purchases.

“fine… you can come along, little one,” you playfully sigh, as you boop its nose.

the hike was a blur. your mind fully distracted with thoughts of your alleged shy admirer—who he was, what he looks like and his personality, and why he was doing this. you were immediately pulled away from your daydream after you take one step into the market.

the environment was bustling to the brim with chatters of a newcomer. it was a big deal for a small community like your village. the tiniest change received much attention. and although you couldn’t discern their murmurs, you were able to catch at least two words.

eccentric wanderer.

the rumblings grow louder, inevitably seizing your attention and forcing you to follow where it comes from. to your utter shock, your feline companion meanders right under your nose. it was rubbing itself against the leg of a young man in peculiar clothing. despite its scuffed fabric, you can still tell it was made from the finest cotton in inazuma.

nonetheless, that isn’t what you focused on. your stare falls on the lavender melons in his arms. when your gaze met his own, he visibly shrinks at the attention. the poor thing looks frightened, hiding behind the veil draped over his head. your pet cat continues to purr for his affection, which raised a few brows—including yours.

he didn’t loosen up until you offer him a small grin and wave his way. his eyes widen in childlike wonder at you before red colors the tips of his ears and the apples of his fair cheeks. in the softest voice you’ve ever heard, he says,

“it appears fate has called for us to finally meet.”

𝘃𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶 [𝗯𝗮𝗿𝗯𝗮𝘁𝗼𝘀]

since your younger years, you’ve heard tales about guardian angels from the elders of your community. they tell you that each being in this life has one of their own watching over them. truthfully, you didn’t believe them. you thought it was a load of rubbish. if it were true, then what do they make of those who perished for mondstadt’s freedom?

be that as it may, it didn’t stop their taunts. the sisters from the cathedral coo that you must’ve been looked after by the anemo archon himself! the less loony, but loony regardless, tease the wind sprite must be fond of you. the first three incidents they list can be passed off as coincidences in your eyes.

it first took place on a super windy day. your freshly washed laundry was swept off the clothes line to only heaven knows where, just to return neatly folded on your doorstep the next morning. the second time it happens, you were helping amber and the traveler decorate the main square of the city tor the windblume festival.

you stand on a ladder, as you mull over on how to fasten the flora banner to the building’s exterior when you accidentally lose your footing. gasps echo the area, preparing for the worst when a strong gust of wind passes, cradling you for a graceful landing. amber dashes to where you lay and fusses over you for any injuries.

aether, on the other hand, stays a foot behind you two while he waits for instructions. a breathless chuckle escapes your lips when it clicks in his mind who saved you.

and last but not least, possibly the most significant one and what had you second-guessing yourself, it plays out on your way home one evening after a day of running errands. you were walking on the grassy road outside of springvale when you hear a few hilichurls come near your direction. you can’t explain what occurs next without sounding like you’ve gone mad.

a gust of wind breezes past your figure, rustling the bushes distances away. it snatches the attention of the behemoths and earns you a window to flee. it was hereafter you start noting every unusual encounter. though, it was a senseless chat over a bottle of dandelion wine, a tiny remark from the town bard about your woes changed your mind.

“from your story, i’d say the anemo archon is greatly fond of you, miss,” venti slurs, then downs his nth swig of the night. the warm lighting of the tavern displays his inebriated state, highlighting the redness of his cheeks.

you’ve heard it one too many times. you would’ve scoffed at him if you weren’t sincerely piqued by what he had to say. it had you resting your arms on the table and leaning in to get a better look of his face. “the anemo archon?”

“hm...” he lazily nods his head along. “did you not know that he is still one with the wind? besides, it’s typical of barbatos to grow attached to his people. have you not heard of the stories? however… i have yet to hear a tale similar to yours.”

venti shrugs. “maybe the almighty god is endeared by a fair maiden like yourself.”

you didn’t reply.

you swallow the remainder of your drink before bidding him goodbye. deep down, you didn’t accept his answer. it made no sense at all! why would an archon fawn over a mortal? it sounds absurd. you make haste to return home and piece it together yourself.

without your knowledge, the subject of what’s been on your mind was overseeing your journey back. venti releases a big sigh of relief once he senses you set foot in your cottage safe and sound.

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~

love lost - aemond targaryen.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader.

warnings: mentions of rape.

summary: you are forced to see Aemond after six long years much to your dismay after finding out you are still to be wed to him.

word count: 2200+

a/n: reader is adopted by Rhaenyra and Daemon. I personally couldn't force myself to write such direct incest lol.

(X)

An incessant ringing sounds in your ears, a mild throbbing in the back of your head signalling the start of an oncoming headache as your mother Rhaenyra reaffirms what you had most hoped no longer stood.

“No, no, no,” you mumble in your seat, shaking your head in denial and pushing your palms into your eyes.

“I thought-,” you cut yourself off, leaning back in your chair and pinching at the bridge of your nose. “I thought when we left King’s Landing that my betrothal to Aemond Targaryen would be null and void.”

“Now, why would you think that?” Daemon raises a barely visible brow at you.

“Because it’s been six years!” you argue, fixing your sharp gaze on your parents.

“Six long years since we’ve left King’s Landing and not once was there mention of my betrothal to him. One would naturally assume that it ceases to exist especially when another was put forward. Albeit he is not longer but, that's not the point. Now, suddenly because we have to go back, I’m to find out that I am still to be wed to that halfwit.”

“That halfwit is to be your husband,” Daemon mocks.

Your cheeks burn in anger, but you say nothing to him, knowing it would get you nowhere. Instead, you intentionally turn your now softened gaze to Rhaenyra in the hopes of garnering some sympathy from her for she knew what it was once like to be in your position.

“Mother, please,” you plead but, your gaze hardens just as quickly as it softened when she’s blocked from your view by Daemon.

“That’s enough. You like your siblings will do your duty to this family. So be it if that duty means marrying Aemond Targaryen then that is your duty and that is the end of this conversation.”

-

You sigh heavily into your drink, eyes downcast and watching the amber liquid slosh against the glass of your cup as you swivel it around in your grip. The false niceties for the sake of your adoptive…. Grandfather? Uncle? You weren’t sure what to call him since your mother married Daemon but, the false niceties had taken its toll and you simply couldn’t feign friendliness any longer as you sat beside your betrothed who’d been ignoring you all night.

“Is there a problem?” Aemond bites out, head turning to finally acknowledge you.

“Yes,” you sigh dramatically into your drink for what you think to be the hundredth time that night.

Swivelling the cup one last time, you drain it of its remaining liquid then place it on the table, laying your hand flat at its base and looking back at Aemond. You narrow your eyes at him, briefly mimicking the look of annoyance on his face which is met with a scowl. While he scowls at you, you take the time to study his features, observing all the way in which his face had changed since the last time you saw him in Driftmark.

Your relationship with Aemond hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when the prospect of being married to one another was all the two of you had wanted. Of course, things had changed when you had steadfastly stood by your brothers (and at the time, cousins) the night Aemond lost his eye. Perhaps you were to blame for the downfall of the relationship between you two - many did say you should've stood by him. But then you remembered his promise.

“You are the problem,” you groan.

You probably wouldn’t be so bold if you hadn’t been steadily becoming more wine drunk with little to no filter standing between your thoughts and your mouth and if Aemond wasn’t irritated with you before, you were certain he was now. What was otherwise a handsome face marred by the ugly twist of his mouth. If looks could kill…

He says nothing right away, his face relaxing back into the cool expression he seemed to always wear nowadays, and you steel yourself for whatever insult he’s sure to throw at you but, it doesn’t come.

Your… conversation interrupted by a hand being placed over your own on the table, and you sober immediately, skin crawling at the older Targaryen boy. You had made it a point to avoid him the entire night, well aware of his indecencies. But, as Helaena danced with your younger brother, Aegon had you cornered between himself and Aemond and if Aemond’s behaviour towards you tonight was anything to go by, he would be of no help.

“Y/N,” Aegon practically coos at you, and it takes everything for you to stop yourself from vomiting all the wine you had drunk, on him.

“Aegon,” you speak with a clipped tone.

Instead of being deterred by your lack of response, Aegon takes it upon himself to drag his chair closer to you. You don’t realise you were moving too until your chair knocks into Aemond’s, your own knee knocking into his thigh. If Aegon could sense your revulsion, he didn’t show it. Although you were sure the depraved boy was likely finding joy in it.

“It’s been so long. Had I known you would blossom into such a beautiful young thing who enjoyed indulging in the cup as much as I did, I might have asked that your hand be given to me instead of young Aemond’s here,” he caresses your hand between both of his.

“Although I hear my brother is in the business of making people who are not him in your life disappear,” he chuckles, eyes flickering to Aemond.

“And if you were not my brother, I would make you disappear too,” Aemond grins. “Now remove your hands from Y/N or I will remove them from you.”

You groan in disgust, standing abruptly in your chair. Perhaps you should've been grateful for Aemond's defence but, it only served as a reminder of what he had done in the past. The sound of the chair’s scrapes are lost amongst the noise, everyone else too engrossed in their own doings to know what was happening at your end of the table and, you use it to your advantage to sit yourself amongst your younger siblings.

“Seven hells,” you exhale loudly, slumping in your new seat.

“Not having fun, sister?” Luke asks, filling your cup for you.

You nod in gratitude, taking the cup in hand, “oh brother, you have no idea.”

Leaning closer to him, you speak low enough for only your siblings to hear, “let’s just say I would give an eye to be anywhere else but here.”

Laughter erupts amongst you all, catching the eye of Aegon and briefly Aemond but, the night carries on. Everything fine for a few more moments until all hell broke loose with Aemond’s final tribute.

-

The quiet of the Red Keep during the night is a stark contrast to its bustling nature throughout the day. The only sounds being the echo of your shoes on the stone pavements as you navigate the secret passageways back to your room. The long walk much needed to clear your thoughts after the turn supper had taken and then the argument with your mother and Daemon that followed.

While you thought the obvious outcome would be to call off your betrothal to Aemond after the insults flung at your brothers, your mother thought otherwise with the seeming resurgence of her friendship with Alicent.

The heavy door creaks on its hinges and closes with a dull thud as you try but fail to be quiet, hoping that no one in your family would hear it from their rooms. But that becomes the furthest thing from your mind when Aemond Targaryen is sitting in front of the fireplace of your room.

“I do believe you have a fireplace in your own rooms,” you quip.

Crossing the room to the large bed, you finger at the night gown laid out by your handmaidens – all of them now gone to bed due to the late hour.

“It’s dangerous enough as it is to be wondering the grounds of the Red Keep during the hour of the owl and yet you also insist on doing it alone,” he scolds from where he sits, gaze fixed intensely on the flames and ignoring your earlier comment.

You breathe a short laugh.

“and yet,” you mock. “I wasn’t alone, was I?”

Turning to face him, he’s already looking back at you as your fingers close around the end of the bedframe.

“Mmm… someone has to look out for you.”

“Is that what you call it?” you narrow your eyes at him, fingers now tapping irritably against the wooden frame.

“If you have something to say… say it,” Aemond taunts.

You open your mouth ready to fire back but, hesitate. In your sober state, you were able to actually hold a conversation but, you didn’t hold the same bravado you did earlier in the evening and quite frankly you just wanted to sleep. You roll your eyes, turning your back on him and sweeping your hair over your shoulder.

“Help me undress, my handmaidens have gone to bed,” you call him over.

You wait patiently, tension thickening as he gets closer, each step heavy and purposeful. When his fingers brush at the hair at the base of your neck, goosebumps spread across your skin.

“You anger with me is misplaced,” Aemond mutters gruffly.

He begins to undo the back of your dress, trying to focus on being careful in undoing the intricate design that holds it together and not your exposed skin.

“I hardly think so after what you did at supper earlier tonight.”

“Tonight?” he tuts, his hand pausing to graze the partially exposed skin of your back. “Tonight, is not why you’re angry with me.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his touch. You want to protest but, have no energy to. It would be a losing fight anyway because he’s right, it wasn’t why you were angry with him but, saying it out loud made you feel silly. When you don’t respond, Aemond continues.

“Between the two of us, if anyone should be holding onto anger and grudges it should be me. You did lie about what happened that night Luke took my eye,” he reminds you.

“I made amends for that,” you defend.

“I know. Sapphires. Which I’ve grown quite fond of.”

Sapphires indeed, ones you had sent him in various shapes and sizes in place of his eye. An apology without apologising.

Turning to face him, you place a hand on his chest, the other reaching for his eyepatch. You don’t worry about your dress or dignity, knowing that he hadn’t undone enough of it for it to fall.

You wait for him to pull away from your touch, but he doesn’t. You allow your hand to gently touch the leather eye patch, waiting a beat before finally removing it.  The scar might’ve been hideous on any other face and, it is hideous but, it doesn’t do anything to take away from his appearance. He certainly doesn’t look the beast that so, many claim.

“I loved him truly,” you drop your hands to your side. “the last one that you took from me. He made me happy.”

“Your happiness with him was fleeting,” he utters, eyes trained on you as he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. His hand trails down to your cheek, caressing softly before it continues its journey along your jawline and finally resting at the base of your neck.

“So, you can stop feigning anger with me.”

“How did we get here?” you mumble, searching his eyes.

The tension suffocates the two of you. Aemond’s breath fanning across your lips and, you don’t even know when he got so close. His lips ghost yours and you involuntarily lean into him but, you're held back by his hand that has snaked its way from the front of your neck to the back.

“We loved one another once. We will learn to love one another again,” and with that Aemond closes the distance between your lips.

The kiss is desperate but tender and, he holds you to him like he will never let you go.

For all that he has done, promises that he made to ensure that you would not be happy after undeniably going against him, he still carries a torch for you – his love is not lost and when you kiss him back with as much urgency and fervour, he knows your love for him is not either.

-

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Disclaimer: I do not own any characters/places mentioned above.

Do not copy. Do not translate. Do not repost.

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