Another Kazoo X Xiao Smut Pls🛐

in light of recent leaks… scaramouche with a mommy kink me thinks…

oh fucking god yes. i heard he lovessssss the word mommy but… *zips mouth shut* this wasn’t supposed to b softish like this but he deserves it!!!!!! minors don’t interact.

it’s odd to think scaramouche used to fight the urges to be gently ravished and taken care of. he didn’t need anyone, he swore on it. or so he thought. scaramouche needed the intimacy s’bad. he felt absolutely helpless when you opened your arms out to him, warm and welcoming. something he wasn’t so familiar with, like butter on a pan, he’s melting in your arms.

a classic, letting this touch starved harbinger nurse from you.

poor thing tries to take as much of your breast he could fit in his mouth, using his other hand to massage the other.

“careful scara.” you chide, but it doesn’t hold any bite. he squirms in your lap, sucking your nipple with urgency like he’s been missing it, missing you. indigo eyes roll into the back of his head at how soft you were in his mouth. scara had to press his thighs together in an attempt to hide his cock twitching to life.

and this is how it always goes. when he’s back from a month long mission of villainy. in your arms, in the palm of your hands being treated with care.

he finds that he can’t fight it, never. “mommy.”

and you’ll coo, threading your fingers through his hair. “that’s right darling. mommy’s got you. s’ok.”

scaramouche’s eyes waters.

Since the anons feel that the dollhouse au is too cute to be real horror, I shall try to submit more scary yandere asks. I already gave you the analog horror idea. Now, imagine Toy Story with a twist. When it comes to dolls, kids like to roleplay and such. As a little girl, MC has gone through all the tropes—especially the Prince Charming and Fairy Tales. Imagine if she ends up inviting or being invited by a playmate and said playmate ends up taking the roles of that some dolls consider to be theirs alone??? Also, MC starts missing special days that she dubs "costume day" where she makes new outfits for the dolls or "tea party day" where she just sings/dances with the dolls while having a tea party. At first, they tolerate it since she's happy and they still get to participate in playtime...but when that playmate starts getting cocky and makes fun of MC??? The chaos, the scheming...that kid will never have a peaceful life, or have a life at all by the time he gets back home.

Three days later, that playmate is moving away with their family but then got involved in a car accident. Police says faulty brakes are to blame. How tragic.

☆Starlight Anon

Continuation: Better yet in that childhood playmate asks is if the kid remained sincerely but the dolls got annoyed anyway because...well, they're all possessive yanderes for MC lol Warnings: Blood, violence, horror, child's death (all in a nightmare.. technically) dead dove do not eat, read at your own risk. Genshin haunted dolls au [Fem!child!reader]

Well, it looked innocent enough? Your new friend was an attention seeker even at a young age she was proud and maybe a bit arrogant but hey she was just a kid.

When she told you about many things she knew and did and showed you things that made your eyes sparkle you thought that she was so cool, that she was amazing! You tried to come into her life finding her so amazing and she let you with a smug smile.

The relationship was cute really, the way you would follow her wherever she went in the school. She was your best friend or that was supposed to be the case. She was a spoiled girl, she wanted everything for herself, the play dates of roleplay games you and her played all had her become the princess or the lady while you were either the prince or the maid that was supposed to save her or serve her.

She would never let you become the princess of the story, even if you want to be even if you voice it she would not give it to you. Even if your parents saw it, their mother didn't know what to do with her while your mother would say that it was all right. But you can also see the concern she had looking over you.

But you liked her... you like her as a friend so you can't help but stick to her. She was so cool really.

Even as she took everything from your small hands.

Yet it seems there was a tipping point, it was bound to happen one day or another she only continued to grow hotty and selfish. It was that time when you were playing at the playground sandbox, you and she were playing with your dolls something about princess and knights with her own doll. As the princess, she commanded the attention of all the knights to her telling them that they should fall for her looks and charms. That they must swear an oath to her as the princess to protect her.

It was slowly getting dark when both yours and her parents called you and her telling you that you need to go back home now. Getting up you tried to take your dolls back but it seems that she started to take a liking to a few of them refusing to give them back to you.

"Give them back." You asked, so close to crying. "Don't be a crybaby I am just borrowing your dolls." She huffed as she held on to your dear dolls close. You didn't understand why she was taking your dolls when you told her no but she kept on insisting that she was just borrowing them to continue the roleplay back at her home.

Before you could do anything she was running back to her mother, who asked what those dolls were and why she has them. "Oh, ______ let me borrow them."

Your mother found you sniffling in the sandbox, crying in her arms you told her what happened.

However it was too late to get them back, your mother would try to get them back but she didn't have the phone number of the girl's mother nor does she know where does that girl live.

She told you that she would try to get them the next day yet that never happened.

Her father had somehow found your home past midnight and dropped off the dolls, apologizing to you and your family for his daughter and coming so late in the night. While he would have given these dolls later at a more appropriate time his daughter has been screaming ever since midnight.

She continued to chant at the dolls to get away from her, throwing them to the farthest corner. They tried to do everything to calm the girl down but she kept of screeching that it hurts and to make the pain stop. They could not calm her down and this was the last thing they thought of. Your parents showed concern for the tired man and thanked him for giving them back your dolls. You were also happy that your dolls have been returned but even you were concerned to what happened to your friend.

But she didn't come to school the next day but you heard the teachers whisper among each other that she was at the hospital, from screaming so much to the point of coughing out blood. Nothing was working and she kept on begging someone whom the parents and doctors don't know to leave her, to let her go.

You don't need to know really. It was her fault after all.

Dressed in a beautiful princess dress and a tiara on her head her stomach was decorated with many swords pierced through her. Over and over she would be a prince to nothing but a corps on the ground.

Over and over faceless knights stabbed her stomach within a dreary castle. She was all alone, she could not see reality even with her eyes open. She could not see the white walls of the hospital but a brick wall covered in blood as another sword price through her abdomen.

So matter how many swords pierced her there was always room for one more.

The pain doesn't numb at all, and when the small girl screamed again and again to stop it never did.

Note: What a dream... if she heals she won't be wearing any more princess dresses or tiaras looking at them would probably make her sick

What did you just say?

NSFW!!

Parings: Venti x afab! Reader

First post, sorry if it sucks :')

Summary: You curse to another god while doing it and Venti leaves you bedridden for a week.

What time was it? You didn't really know and you didn't really care, honestly. After all, it was quite hard to think while you had the one and only Barbatos pounding into you right now. He was hitting those places that you most liked so nicely, it was hard to think straight. "You seem quiet, my love." His hips stutter as he bends down to kiss your forehead. It's ironic because just as he bent down, he hit a spot that not even you were aware of so you arched you back and bit down on your lip to prevent the loudest possible moan to erupt from your throat although it was mostly to no avail since you still let out such a sweet whine. "Mhmm~! F-fuck! Holly Shougun!" You didn't register the curses leaving your mouth but Venti sure as hell did. He abruptly stopped and you enjoyed the second of peace were you weren't being overstimulated by your lover.

It was only then that you realized your mistake.

"What did you just say?" Fuck. You opened your mouth to answer but were stopped by Venti's hand squeezing your throat. "Did you just say Holly. Fucking. Shougun?" You looked at his emerald eyes. He looked like he was planning to obliterate Inazuma, he looked so hot. You were surprised by the sudden span of his hips.

"FUCK! AHH~HAHA! VENTI! FUCK!" You screamed as he seemed to go even faster than he had before. He was meeting your hips so harshly that you knew that a slight bruise would be present tomorrow. "Are you Raiden's pretty whore? Or are you Barbato's." You tried to speak but couldn't. The speed and harshness of his thrusts made it impossible to think of anything other than the bard who was fucking you silly right this second.

"Answer me." He seemed so different, there was anger and jealousy present in his voice. You opened your mouth once again and you spat out a pathetic "Barbatos! Fuck! I pray to Barbatos, not the Shougun!" He seemed pleased so he started to slow down his thrusts until eventually stopping and sliding out of you.

Your breathing was heavy as you tried to massage your throbbing thighs. You suddenly feel a soft kiss on your temple only to look back at Venti holding a damp towel as if he didn't fuck you like a wild animal less than a minute ago.

"Never forget that, lovely."

companion to an almost-god (scaramouche | wanderer)

ft. Scaramouche. Fluff. 1k words. Drabble though.

(HUGE Sumeru 3.2 spoilers)

If you were asked, ten years ago, five years ago, or even last month, on where you think you'd be now, you probably wouldn't reply with, "Archon-assigned friend to a war criminal." Yet here you are, padding up to the Sanctuary of Surasthana like it's your house, as you've done for the past month already.

Now that Scaramouche is under Nahida's care, instead of facing immediate execution for his crimes, he's instead burdened with the responsibility of making a new life for himself. And powerful as Nahida is, she can't always be the one instructing him through everything, from how to do small talk to coming to terms with his past. The sages are no help either, quivering in their boots at the very mention of the puppet that became a god — the living proof of their crime, no less. The Traveler would help, if only they weren't so busy, and old wounds are yet to heal.

So it comes down to you, a humble and longtime follower of Kusanali, to accompany Scaramouche for his stay in Sumeru. Nahida’s blessing would protect you from any… difficulties that may arise. She says that she doesn't foresee any real trouble from him, but you aren’t sure with how Scaramouche acts.

He’s either a grumpy cat or wrath incarnate whenever you’re around. Granted, you’re the one who spends the most time with him, so you’re more familiar with that anger than most.

Today, you bring a special guest to him; one that wriggles in your arms as it looks around the vast halls of the Sanctuary of Surasthana.

Scaramouche hears your approach. He’s turned away from you, curled up in his corner and lost in his thoughts as he usually is. When he isn’t forced to go out to the city and interact with strangers, he can read from the infinite library of the Akademiya. So far, his only request to his stay was an opportunity to use the smithing forge sometimes.

You realize that you’ve been standing still for a while, staring at his back while the creature in your arms wiggles more insistently.

Scaramouche scoffs and turns to face you. “Another miserable task for me? What, do I have to wipe the snot off children’s noses or sing to the flowers? Is the humiliation of my defeat not enough…”

His eyes land on the creature in your arms, and blow wide open in confusion.

“What is that thing?!” He sneers.

You hold it up and let it speak.

“Name is Aragaru. This is purple Nara?”

“Purple?!” Scaramouche balks.

Aragaru shakes its head. “No, not like purple lightning anymore. Used to be like lightning: flash, smoke, faster than fire to destroy trees. But now, Nara like light blue wind after storm: fresh breeze to soothe earth after lightning.”

“What is it talking about?!”

You gently set Aragaru down, and it floats over to Scaramouche. It doesn't seem scared of him at all. Meanwhile, Scaramouche is trying to subtly scramble away from it, staring at it with a mix of disgust and fear.

Aragaru doesn't mind, wearing its goofy, crooked smile. 

"Wind after storm is calm but strays easily, wants to spread across every jungle and pond. Wind will run out if it does this. Aragaru will help Blue Wind Nara find direction for its breeze."

Scaramouche whips around to you. "Hah! Are you trying to use a… vegetable to give me life lessons, like I'm some kind of child?"

You shrug, already falling into the routine of tidying the books strewn about the room. "Aranara are more in tune with the world than any other being. If there's anyone that can help you figure things out, it's an Aranara."

When you try to clean up the books by the exit, Scaramouche suddenly grabs your wrist.

You jump back; he's wide-eyed, but not like the dark madness that he used to have. It's a warm, trembling gaze, as hesitant as a feather on your skin.

"You're– you're just going to leave it with me, like that?"

"I don't see why not. Aragaru's good at this. You know, they fought off the Marana– I mean, the Withering with the Traveler."

Scaramouche gives a frustrated sigh. "No, not the– I mean are you seriously replacing yourself? Where are you going? Are you–"

He swallows.

The hand around your wrist squeezes a little.

"Are you coming back?"

Oh.

A soft smile makes its way to your face and warms your gaze. You gently tug Scaramouche closer to you, just enough to rest your hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not retiring from being your companion," you say. "Archon-assigned job, remember?"

He huffs, but listens to you.

"Aragaru's just here because I think that connecting with nature is a great way to get used to the present. Besides, I've planned a trip for us to the jungle, and we're going to meet quite a few Aranara along the way."

"We're going outside?"

It's amazing how expressive Scaramouche has gotten lately, like clear spring water. The tinge of surprise in his voice is sweet.

You wink.

"You've gotten used to the city, admit it. I think you're ready to expand your horizons a little more. Or did I not catch you so-eagerly listening to the storyteller at the cafe last week?"

A furious blush takes over Scaramouche's face and he yanks away from you. "I did not!"

"Keep telling yourself that."

"The Blue Wind Nara is as bright as Nilotpala Lotus, but shyer than floating blue fungi," Aragaru notes.

"Shut up!"

"Anyway," you cut in, "if there isn't anything else you want to bring, we can leave by lunch. Aragaru will show us the way, so long as you listen to the Aranara life lessons."

For a moment, Scaramouche is silent and flabbergasted, wondering for the nth time how he'd gotten into this situation. From a broken puppet to a god, and now – hostage of the Dendro Archon, subject to punishment of playing with children and part-timing at the cafe to "learn how to live." And now, he's supposed to go on a field trip with a talking, floating vegetable that can't even form complete sentences.

He dips his head and pulls his hat over his eyes. If he looks at your shameless, sunny smile any longer, he might melt. Disgustingly.

"This better be quick," he growls, but you easily pick up on the hidden excitement in his tone. "And I don't want any mosquitoes on me when we're in the jungle."

You dare to elbow him lightly. "That's my Scaramouche."

He scoffs, yet leans into the touch by just a little.

"Hey, none of that in the city." He scolds gently. "You don't know how many old bats have decided to call me their grandson or whatever."

"Sooo, it's fine to call you that in the jungle? What do you want: Scara, Mouche, Mouchey? Ara… like an Aranara?"

"Hell no. Call me… yes, call me… Wanderer."

"Pfft– that's so bad."

"Shut up, it's a good name!"

"Fine, fine. So you're my wanderer, then?"

He rolls his eyes. A touch of a smile at the corner of his lips. He slings a travel bag over his shoulder, hoping that you won't see his face. Hopes that you don't notice him tugging you to his side, protecting you, as you head out of the Sanctuary. Hopes that Aragaru won't point it out.

"As long as you're my Archon-assigned companion, sure."

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

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

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

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

word count: 3.8k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Vision. An acknowledgement from the Celestial gods.

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

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

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

Not amber.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

An excited trill.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So they did,” he observes impassively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did,” you admit.

“A fine craftsmanship.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

After all, a warning is meant to be heard.

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

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

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

Something of a Family Reunion

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

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

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

-

He had been with you for over a year now.

You knew this was coming.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh right, your dad...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You received no protest from him.

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

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

"What are you—"

"So, that's your boyfriend then?"

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

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

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

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

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

You both walked in to find Venti meticulously cutting vegetables.

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

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

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

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

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

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

His frown deepened at your sarcasm.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes actually, although I'm not."

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

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

"Mom."

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

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

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

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

"So where are you from then?"

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

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

"Oh shit sorry, complete accident—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You would get out of this week alive.

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

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

omg id love if you could write a drabble of creator ignoring venti as punishment. maybe with some nsfw if you could. please and thank you 🙏🏻🙏🏻

When Punishment Is Met With Perseverance

Ok, so this has been absolutely circling in my head since I got it because it's such a good concept and I really wanted to do it justice, so without further ado

Warnings: 18+ content so minors stay away, general Sagau, Sub Venti/Dom reader, obsession, codependency, oral (receiving), mild degradation at one part, reader is pretty explicitly female here

-

It had been exactly three hours, fourty five minutes, thirty five, thirty six, thirty seven seconds, and counting, since you had last spoken a single word to him, graced him with your voice.

It was an accident, even if it didn't look it.

It's not as though he didn't feel bad for almost killing a guard after overhearing a few unpleasant choice words that he thought were directed to you.

The first hour Venti just sulked, allowing you the honor of space in the hopes that you would soften up a bit.

The second hour, he tried to reinsert himself into your good graces with his well-known playful demeanor, choosing to wrap his arms around your shoulders when you weren't facing him, whispering praise and apologies as he held tighter to you, and you still refused to pay him any mind.

"My love, my muse, the object of my complete devotion, please talk to me? I'm really sorry, I promise not to be so reckless again."

He was slowly wearing you down, everytime he whined for your attention, pleated for any form of affection.

He tried to draw a reaction out from you physically, resting his head on your shoulder and kissing your neck between desperate pleas.

He went as far as to situating himself on you and wrap his arms around your torso, just holding you there for a few minutes as he basked in your warmth, wishing so intensely to hear something other than just your heartbeat.

Nothing worked, you held strong, he was never going to learn if he kept softening you up in situations like these, you can't keep giving into him.

The third hour was when he got truly desperate, situated himself on his knees, lowering himself before you, begging and praying and whining out things that made it hard to keep blush from dusting your features.

"Please please please talk, please say anything, wouldn't you like to berate me? I'll accept it gladly, just please do it."

You were starting to feel worse, both at his desperation and in the fact that you found it so attractive.

It was almost impossible not to, him making those noises, how he looked up at you with teary eyes, how he pressed soft kisses just below your knee as he stayed sitting on the floor.

It was at the halfway point in the third hour when he started trying to 'seduce' you, undressing himself down so that his clothes were practically hanging off his body, putting himself on display, making noises that were getting harder and harder to constitute as non sensual.

He poured all of his desperation into every time his lips touched your skin, mumbling how he wanted so badly for you to use him, let him please you, atone for his sins on his knees.

You tried so hard to refuse to look at him, to just ignore this completely undignified display, stop your body from reacting to how much it turned you on.

"Please my goddess," Venti practically moaned, "Use me, please use me, I'm yours."

You finally broke, grabbing his neck as he let out a giggle at the sudden action, his eyes filled with need and worship.

"You're pathetic, how do you think Mondstadt would feel to knew their beloved God was acting like such a slut, hmm?"

He let out another sultry whine and kissed your hand, "Mmmm, don't care, it's all for you, I'll act like anything you want me to~"

You rolled your eyes, moving your unoccupied hand so that your thumb was resting on his bottom lip.

He took it into his mouth without thinking, sucking and moaning as you added another.

"Fucking desperate..."

He would be obligated to agree with you if his mouth wasn't being put to other uses, deciding instead to respond by trying to take your fingers deeper, moaning louder to show his complete enjoyment.

After a moment of this you let go of your hold on his neck, causing him to fall to the floor again with a thud.

He immediately moved to start drowning you in affection, kissing and grabbing at your thighs, trying to prove his worth.

He was inching his way ever so closer to you, his intentions would be obvious to anyone in a five mile radius.

You let out a 'tsk' of disapproval, grabbing his hair and pulling him back.

"Ah, n-no, no please, I need it, I need to, please—"

"Then prove it. Beg, use that pretty voice of yours to convince me to let you."

He melted, you called his voice pretty.

Not feeling like giving in just yet, he let out an exaggeratedly pained whine, crawling up your legs with the intent of stealing a kiss. You pushed him back down, giving him something akin to a playful glare which caused his lips to turn upward in a slight smile.

It was hard denying him when he looked so incredibly cute.

He had never begged for anything that didn't pertain to you in some way, you really had a way of ruining him.

"My most divine and merciful love, I beg you, I need you, I want you more than anything. Please, use me, I'll do anything you want, let me make up for my behavior—"

He was cut off, mid-plead, as you gripped his hair tighter, causing him to choke on his own words.

"Go ahead then."

That was all he needed.

With a slight pained look in his eyes, Venti smiled, crawling up your body and capturing your lips in a kiss.

It was brief, not nearly as intense as when he was drooling around your fingers, but it was certainly a start.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against yours with his eyes closed as he breathed deeply, simply basking in how sinfull the air was that surrounded the two of you.

You took the opportunity to put your hands on his shoulders and push him back to his knees. He dropped as if weightless, completely hypnotized by the feeling of your hands on him.

The arousal clouded your mind as well, you let your fingers curl into his hair, guiding him to where you were ready and waiting.

His lips moved down to your inner thigh once again, his touch making you shudder as he started sucking and licking at biting your sensitive skin.

You let out something akin to a stifled moan, he moved to a place kisses on your lower stomach in response, a bit above where you needed him.

Desperately, he pulled your underwear down, the last barrier in the way of him getting what he wanted, what he was dying for.

You tried your best to suppress a small whimper, wanting to maintain the power in this situation, which you knew he would be more than happy to steal from you.

He went to work, his moans of pleasure ringing out into the room as his tongue lapped gently at your arousal.

He tried to speak, to thank you and praise you, to whine that he wanted you to pull his hair harder. But you pushed down on the back of his head, stifling all of it.

He whined while continuing his actions, moving his hands behind you and trying to pull you closer, his touch sending shocks of pleasure through you.

Your fingers dug into the back of his head as your own rolled back, eyes closing as the incredible sensation built up, the feeling of his mouth on you, the feeling of complete devotion.

You let out half hearted strings of praise, almost slurring your words together.

His tongue eagerly lapping up everything you gave him, hoping so desperately for more. He was drunk off you, off the feeling of giving himself wholly over to you.

Pleasure rolled through you in waves, he really was too good at this, you had the multi-talented God at your feet completely captivated.

Muscles starting to tense up, you could tell you were getting close as he continued his onset of pleasure.

He could tell too, mumbling pleas into you, begging for you to come, he needed it so badly, it felt like he might die without it.

His actions became more desperate, less rhythmic but more intense, he pulled you tighter, moaned louder, pushed into you harder.

You felt climactic release overwhelm you as Venti's mouth kept going, not slowing down for anything, continuing throughout your orgasm and long after.

Eventually, you had to push him away, feeling the beginning of overstimulation setting in.

He was hesitant to move, completely content to go for another few rounds.

You pushed again, making your wants clear, and felt his mouth leave you as he whispered 'thank you' over and over like a mantra, not even attempting to move from his spot between your legs.

He, instead, rested his head on your thigh, occasionally pressing lazy kisses to the marks he left.

"You're too good at that, you know."

He smiled against you, tracing patterns your skin, "Mmmm, are you sure? I could always do it a few more times if you're not fully convinced."

You let out an airy laugh, "Maybe later."

He took that as a promise and continued to bath you in soft affection, content with silence.

This was the closest he had ever felt to eternal paradise, he might just have to start acting out more if you continued to reward him like this.

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.

Anniversary

(Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader)

“May I request for a scenario where darling tries to surprise yandere scaramouche for a celebration? I want to know how you think his reaction may be like .3.” -Anon

I’ve had this request written out in my google docs for months and couldn’t find the original ask on Tumblr when I came to finally post it. For those who don’t know, Scaramouche is a character from Genshin Impact, but you could also read him as a whumper in the context of this drabble. I definitely wrote him like one. 

CW: Forced marriage, captivity, possessive whumper, unhealthy relationship dynamics, stockholm syndrome, hot and cold whumper

Surprising Scaramouche for a celebration? Good luck. He’s one of the most aware and controlling yanderes there is, so getting anything past him will require a lot of planning. Whenever you ask for anything from the Fatui-trained maids who take care of your daily routine, they immediately report it to The Balladeer. But, it’s still possible…

Today marks the second anniversary of your marriage to Scaramouche. He was never one to keep track of these things. When you’re not alone in your room or doing your permitted hobbies, you are by his side like a loyal pet. Why celebrate a special occasion when every day can be treated as such? But you have kept track of each day since you were forcefully led to the altar. And as each month passes, your memories of that day become more rose-tinted.

You almost forget the tears in your eyes as your hair was styled and dress fitted. Prim and perfect just how Scaramouche likes. Your makeup made you look like a Marionette puppet, but you saw how your future husband’s eyes lit up the moment you began to walk down the aisle, a Pyroslinger’s gun pointed at your back to dissuade you from acting up. You were desirable, beautiful, made in the image of your captor. Back then, you still had an instinct for self-preservation. That’s why you only said “I do” after a warning shock to remind you of your place.

That instinct for self-preservation was slowly replaced by an instinct for survival. You didn’t want any more warning shocks, no more guns pointed to your back. So you did anything you could to avoid them, even if that meant giving into your delusional husband’s whims. You learned how to read the Harbinger’s emotions, worded your sentences carefully to hide your true feelings, and even began to desire his affection.

You could only take the risk and hope for the best.

He and Pierro have been busy plotting something big lately; you don’t care much for the Fatui or their schemes, and Scaramouche tends to get angry when talking about work, so it’s a subject you tend to avoid. You use the extra alone time to ask a few favors. Discrete ones, and always separately to avoid The Balladeer’s suspicion, like flowers, groceries and minor decorations. You stash these items away upon delivery.

You’ve been especially “well behaved” lately, so you hope your good favor will outweigh breaking his endless and ever-changing rules. Plus, it’s a present for him! He can’t be too angry…right?

You manage to cook a festive meal and prepare your private living area for the occasion. Now, all you could do was wait…

~

Scaramouche knows something is up the moment that he enters his estate. The Fatui on guard look like they’re hiding something, averting their gaze more than they should and fidgeting with the hems of their uniforms. Even though they assure the Harbinger that nothing is amiss, Scaramouche can’t shake the feeling of unease.

He doesn’t quite know how to react when instead of an escaped darling, he finds a whole feast. The room has been lit with scented candles. The table is set just how he likes, Inazuman foods had been shipped to his home and prepared to perfection, and the necessary equipment for a tea ceremony is set in the center, ready to accompany the meal. You twiddle your thumbs in anticipation for his reaction. After a moment, he laughs, mocking and dangerous. “What’s this? I don’t remember you ever being this obedient for me, doll.” The oh-so-familiar darkness flashes across his eyes like a bolt of lightning. You’re already on thin ice. “What did I tell you about being direct with your wants?”

“I don’t want anything right now, My Lord.” When he doesn’t look convinced, you press. Luckily, you had already prepared what you would say, an unfortunate habit you picked up out of a desire to stay on your husband’s good side. “Today is the anniversary of our marriage. I wanted to show you my progress and prepare a celebratory meal. That’s all, I swear.”

He pauses for a moment, reading your expression as much as you read his. Being in a relationship with Scaramouche often feels like being in a constant game of telepathic chess. Constantly trying to strategize and predict the other’s moves so that you lose as few pawns and pieces as possible. At least, that was your goal.

The static in the room dissipates, and Scaramouche’s expression changes again, from paranoid to amused. “You’re so… sentimental.” He says it laced with poison, as if being genuinely romantic were an insult. But there’s also a sense of wonder, in the way that he looks at you as if you’re an adorable puppy bringing over a stick.

You’re used to his thinly veiled insults by now. You shrug it off, leading him over to a cushion by the table. “If anything, you should be the sentimental one, seeing as you couldn’t help but bring me here.” 

The Balladeer’s shoulders tense and you mentally curse your loose tongue. Your husband knew full well that he had forced you into this marriage, so that wasn’t why his smile stiffened in response. He believed that his emotions were a weakness, a defect that caused him to be rejected by his creator. You instinctively backtrack. “This is…just how I show my love for you, My Lord. You have your ways, and I have mine.” The dangerous glint in his eyes fades away, and so do your nerves. 

You move to pour him a glass of freshly brewed sake. He takes it with a smirk. “It looks like my lessons finally sunk in,” He chuckles again, giving you that patronizing look. “Took you long enough.”

You can expect that Scaramouche will want the full anniversary treatment more often in the future.