You Mentioned An Albedo Bot In One Of Your Genshin Sex Dolls Post And I Wonder If You Have Any Further

First of all, this blog of yours is a blessing. Your yandere works are just ♡♡♡♡♡ I cannot even put it on words. Thanks to you, now I know Lobotomy Corporation and I can't get enough of it. I need to know more about this game, the lore, the abnormalities and everything it can offer.

And secondly, I don't know much about Der Freischütz & Funeral of the Dead Butterflies, but can I request a yandere drabbles/one-shot/headcanons about them? I don't play the game (yet) but the second I saw those two, they got my attention (and my heart).

I hope I don't bother you with my request.

P.s: did I already say your writings are just that perfect I can't stop re-reading them?

⸸ The Devilish Marksman and the Caged Butterfly ⸸

(A Yandere AU of Lobotomy Corporation where a sexy butterfly wants to encase you in his coffin, but the devil said no. OOC and fanon are to be expected.)

Note: read until the end for my person message to Anon.

Love.

Der Freischütz might have been a human once, but he never understood what that thing called 'love' was. It was an alien concept, a subject that he could never hope to understand.

So when he was but a mere human, he scoffed at the Devil.

"The person I love most, you say?" he jeered. "No such person exists."

But it did.

Perhaps he have should known given how much he cared about himself and no one else. At the very least, he should have predicted that the seventh bullet would pierce no one else's heart but his own.

One might think he always had one, given how his iciness seemed to always melt off around his favourite Agent, but no.

First and foremost, he became a Devil because his predecessor saw him for what he was. Heartless.

And as a Devil, it would be an insult to call his soul-binding contract something as fickle and fleeting as 'love'.

He found it rather laughable how humans were so desperate for it. Throughout the millennia, he had seen so many blind themselves with rose-tinted glasses because they couldn't stand the thought of anything tarnishing its image.

But if enabling that blindness would make things easier for him, then who was he to complain?

For his beloved little Contractee, he would do anything to be serviceable. Anything to keep them compliant.

He would protect them, teach them how to best use his EGO equipment and gift, and perhaps even take care of them. He could feign politeness, empathy, offer his condolences when he must, and as you must be beginning to see, the Marksman could even play the role of a charismatic gentleman if he wanted to.

It was a front he never bothered with before, since most of his contracts lasted as long as his bounties did.

But for this one, why not?

Heed my warning, though. Never assume for a moment that he would extend that same hospitality to others. That is a privilege belonging only those bound to him.

He might swear to protect them, doing everything in his power to keep them from danger, but the price was insurmountable. The facility would be drained of its energy, and dozens would die, not only because of his magical bullets, but because of all the collateral damage caused by the breaching of other Abnormalities.

It wouldn't matter though.

Damn everyone to hell if anyone other than him were to kill his Contractee.

They might come running to him, demanding or begging him to cease his slaughter. Perhaps they might even even try to teach or urge him to at the very least feign concern for the lives of others, but he never will.

They were his to protect, but he was never theirs to control.

On the contrary, T-01-68 was...he could never be called pliant, but he was certainly more considerate towards his beloved more than the Devil.

Whereas Der Freischütz was blunt and straightforward with his 'affections', the Butterfly would be careful with his words and gestures. Not because he wanted to earn their trust, but because he genuinely wanted to avoid causing them any more unnecessary pain.

God knows how much they had to endure on a daily basis already.

It was well-known across the facility that T-01-68 existed to comfort those left behind, to honor the ones who passed away that didn't have anyone to remember them. It would simply be antithetical of him to hurt his beloved.

He was the shoulder they could cry on. When they wanted to run away from everything, they would come to his containment unit seeking sanctuary.

Not that Devil.

Deep down, the Butterfly was grateful for Der Freischütz being the way he was (and the rest of the Abnormalities for that matter). If not for his crass ways and bloodlust, their little Agent would have never come to him on their own volition.

He could never hurt them.

That was what he truly seemed to believe as he chased after his beloved down the winding hallways, actively seeking them out so he could finally rest their body inside his coffin.

This place was hell. Wasn't the Devil's presence enough confirmation for that? All these monsters, all these fanatics like WhiteNight and Blue Star promised salvation, but their ways were no less gruesome from the other abominations they swore to save their followers from.

While he would never call himself a god, he certainly believed that he was the only one who could truly give them the peace they needed.

If he must kill his beloved himself to keep that promise, he would.

The two would never see eye-to-eye, that much they had long come to accept. For the Marksman, T-01-68 was a headache to deal with, while the Undertaker found F-01-69 utterly difficult to tolerate.

Der Freischutz wanted to keep them alive. They were his to keep.

But the Butterfly wanted to give them the dignified death they deserved. It was the reason why they came to such a hellish place in the first place.

They both had a reason, and neither one were willing to give up.

~~~ End ~~~

First of all, I would like to say thank you, thank you, thank you!

And it's no bother at all. I love to write headcanons, especially snippets, drabbles, and short fics, so I am more than happy to. Honestly, I'm just surprised I didn't get requests from these two, considering how popular they are among the fandom.

P.S: Did I already tell you how much reading this makes me happy? I'd love to see the fandom for this game grow bigger.

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

𝐘𝐎𝐔‘𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐘, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇 𝐈𝐓 𝐇𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐒!

scaramouche likes to put all of his frustration and stress into eating you out, cumming untouched in the process.

୨୧ WORD COUNT: 1.5k

୨୧ WARNINGS: nsfw, fem! reader, oral sex (fem! receiving), cunnilingus, fingering, slight biting, cumming untouched, you call him kuni hehe.

"you don't even know how annoying that is!"

scaramouche continued to explore his lips over the tender insides of your thighs while complaining, guiding you back towards your bed until your head hit the soft silky pillows, leaning down. "it's so fucking frustrating."

the darkened strands of his hair lazily hung around his face, there was an almost unbearable surge of air roaming over your skin, filling the room and giving you difficulties in breathing.

the mattress squeaked under the shifting weight of your lover, you swallowed the growing twist in your throat and felt the ever so sinful awareness of his tongue sliding over your thighs, adding his sharp teeth to nibble on the shaking skin, biting down.

"you won't ever frustrate me like that, right?"

stilling himself on you, you did nothing more than meeting his eyes with his palms branding each one of your legs, properly nestling himself in between your aching core. "i'd never." turning to him, you murmured the words and rolled them off your tongue in between irregular panting, signaling him how bothered you had become with your lips pursed.

"ah, you're right." he didn't blink, nor did he lose his hold on you, fuck, the way you laid there, so unbelievably sexy, out of breath and he hasn't even started to pleasure you yet! savoring his first kiss on your aching clit, you whined his name before he spoke again.

"you'd never betray me, how foolish of me to even entertain that idea." in any normal circumstances, one would think it was a typical conclusion he found deep inside his tinkering brain, yet somehow it still sounded like scaramouche needed that conformation from you.

"never, kuni." managing to brace yourself, you spread your legs further with your eyes lidded, your impassioned words enough to send him to the brink of desperation as you held your breath, letting go of it with a shiver.

humming in satisfaction, scaramouche repeated the process, placing another kiss on your trembling clit, handling you soft and delicately. The hot ache in between your parted legs was growing and he knew, he always did, he had you figured out and could clearly see how soaked and flooded you had gotten.

"kuni, please." you wiggled breathily, "i need you now." he felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled upon listening to your begs, cautiously prodding out his tongue to draw it into your flesh, your body relaxing, yet tiny quivers still ran through your figure, reacting in a fine tremor that felt like a sweet buzzing against you.

"you got me already, don't act stupid." moving his fingers on you, he watched you eagerly, prodding the first digit in. Of course, he figured, you were tight as always, so fucking tight it made his mouth water, your slippery fluids drenching his fingertip as he let you take another inch.

a pathetic whine was everything you were able to get out, yet it still didn't do the sensations you were experiencing justice. The need to have him closer to you, buried in your core with his eyes drawn to you at all times was enormous, massive.

your hand gravitated towards his hair, digging your nails into his scalp as she moved his tongue on you, lapping at your spongy folds and simultaneously dragging his digit back and forth your tightness.

it was maddening, unfair, how he always managed to tackle your sweetest spots, enveloping you slowly in his mouth and tonguing his wet muscle in between your glistering folds. Your head was thrown back into the cushions, moaning the passion out for your lover to hear as he groaned, sucking strongly before closing his mouth on your quivering bundles, pulling away.

your sobs continued to wreck your insides, whining when he refrained completely yet still leaving his finger buried in. "how did that feel, hm?" scaramouche muttered just above your wet cunt, laughing at the way you tried to hide on how turned on you were now.

"it feels good, please more." answering in blind agreeance, you sighed in relief when he put his attention back where you craved it, rubbing your clit with the tip of his tongue. The burning pleasure on your hole turned you into a mindless haze, your nails embedded in his scalp as the mixure of both tongue and fingers had you salvating, curling your toes inwards.

"you're so far gone." truthfully, scaramouche couldn't keep his eyes off you, more so was he getting drunk off your juices. So sweet yet with a faint layer of bitterness, the obvious tent in his pants hardening when he rutted himself against the mattress, swallowing down your gooey substance.

your breasts rose and fell with each deep breath you took, a light trace of sweat embedded on the curve of your mounds. He swore whenever he'd open his eyes, open them to watch you struggle, he could feel his cock twitch in his pants, ache and crave to be buried and sucked in by your walls but fuck, something about pleasuring you this way was even better.

it was evident that it was him who was in control, he had the power to give and take, the power to decide. With that, scaramouche prodded the next finger in, in one drag adding it into your sobbing hole, stretching you apart. How hot and squishy your walls were, wiggling his fingers in you to find a nice comfortable place before shoving them back in.

with the added pressure on your core, you moaned with your jaw hung low, throwing your head back with your eyes pointing to the ceiling. Your screams echoed through your face, chest and your stomach, the vibrating sensation coaxed scaramouche on to fasten his tempo, wrapping his lips around your clit and suckling on your tiny electrified bundles, his sharp teeth grazing over the pulsating sensitivity.

for him, it's the biggest compliment and ego boost when he can clearly sense how you were enjoying yourself simply from his touch on you, not to mention your tender walls twitching with every shove of his digits in your softness, fluttering and flexing your muscles.

tears were beginning to bubble out of your eyes, lifting your torso up while holding him down on your warmth, trembling upon witnessing the almost embarrassing squelching noises you were making. Scaramouche groaned into your pussy, thrusting himself into the mattress and holding you still so he could work on you without being disturbed by your bothersome humanly body responses.

"i‘m so close, please." developing into a whiny mess, he used his slender fingers to scissor your abused cunt, turning you louder when you met his pace halfway, wiggling your hips into his tongue. The tension tearing into your sweet core was on its breaking point, evolving and expanding with your oxygen falling short, burning your lungs.

"you're already close? from only my fingers?" scaramouche clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, his fingers repeatedly pressing against your sweet point mixed with the roughness of his skilled flattened tongue drawing painfully fast circles on your clit.

the wide smirk on his face was evident even without you actually spotting it, he obviously wouldn't tell you but scaramouche was on the brink of cumming himself, untouched and from simply shoving his cock into the bedsheets under him, a damp splotch decorating his pants.

"fuck." your body jolted with tension, your entrance twitching with his fingers knuckles deep, sucking him in and tensing up, keeping him there. A thin layer of sweat covering his pale skin with his closed eyes focusing down on where your core was connected with his tongue, chasing your climax like a wild beast, groaning when his erection rubbed particularly hard over the rough material of his pants.

you suddenly hiccuped and whined out screaming, toes curling at the unique sensation only he was managed to coax out and arouse in you, the bubble in your stomach popping when you released yourself against his mouth, coating and staining his chin and cheeks with scaramouche‘s moans vibrating your core.

never faltering the shoves of his fingers in you he rode your orgasm out, grinning lowly and licking you fiercely when your body gave out on you at last, turning lax. The sounds of pure euphoria had the room in a dominating aura, sinfully swirling over your twitching body when you trembled, exhausted and tired from his rough play on you.

your juices sticked on the insides of your thighs, drooling down your ass and staining the bedsheets when scaramouche pulled himself away, a tiny thread still connecting him to your pussy. With that, he used the back of his hand to brush your juices off his face, licking off the rest of your essence and drinking it up, much to your pleasure.

humming in satisfaction, he brought his lips to you to make you taste yourself. The embarrassment had you whine on his mouth when he swirled his tongue around yours, cheeks prickling with warmth. Quickly, you returned it, prancing your hand over his stomach before cupping his heat, squeezing the wet spot when you suddenly realised.

you whimpered when he grinded himself into your palm, the idea of scaramouche being so unbelievably horny from eating you out had you in a tight grip and the fact he climaxed from it too, confidence roaming into your veins.

"i love you." your weak voice was music to his ears, a low hum rumbling in his chest which was a clear place holder for the somewhat normal response he had actually planned to use as an answer to your words.

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

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

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

i am 50 years late, but some thoughts:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"having fun, dear wife?"

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

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

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

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

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

𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗧 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗞 !

˖˚˳⊹ spit kink feat. itto : heizou : childe : diluc : cyno : dottore : pantalone x fem! reader from the 5.5k event special

˖˚˳⊹ warnings: nsfw : messy : spit spit spit

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗜𝗧𝗧𝗢

itto could never deny the fact that he absolutely adored it whenever things would turn messy. Not to mention while eating you out! he wouldn’t even dare to touch your sobbing cunt before remotely spitting on your glistering folds to rub it around your bundle of nerves with tight painfully slow strokes. "Itto."you’re mewling at him, hands flying to his unruly hair and finding refuge around his horns to pull him closer against your throbbing pussy. He’s only humming an answer, way too gone in the taste of your juices around his tongue.

for a moment, itto is refraining his movements, pulling away to brush the mounds of spit, —that was covering his cheeks n lips—, away with the back of his hand. He’s grinning at you all confidently, knowing just how much you desired his mouth back on your pussy by the way you were sinfully mewling at him, twisting and turning around the bed and grabbing onto the disheveled sheets underneath the both of you for some sort of release. He’s quick to follow, collecting another load of spit in his mouth before messily letting it fall down your aching warmth. The way it coated your folds was feeling so unbelievably sinful, tickling you in a way before itto pushed himself back into you, making it his duty to let you release against his needy tongue.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗭𝗢𝗨

"care for another taste?" that particular question rolled of heizou’s tongue so fucking sinfully. In a way it didn‘t even sound like a question, but more than a thought that crossed his mind. You were quick to open up your mouth again, pushing your tongue out to let heizou have better access to what’s about to come. He’s slowly advancing a bit forward to be properly in front of your face before a bulb of spit left past his lips, expertly dropping down your tongue. 

"come on now." the big grin on his face was unable to be ignored, he wanted you to see just how much he enjoyed being in control of this situation, "swallow." you gave him a little nod as an answer before swallowing everything he gave you, evolving into a panting mess underneath the man who was very much pleased with your obedience. "you‘re so good, so dreamy, love." his breathing became a bit faster from the mere sight of you swallowing his spit without a care in the world before heizou closed the distance between the both of you, deeply kissing your needy state and biting down harshly on your lower lip only to pull it back with his teeth, gazes meeting each other again.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗖𝗛𝗜𝗟𝗗𝗘

fuck, he’s so lost in your cunt right now. Ajax adored the way you tasted around his tongue, could eat you out every day whenever your heart craved for it. He’s swirling his tongue lightly over your bundle of nerves, ever so often grazing around them with his teeth to coax out another moan from you that sounded utterly beautiful to him. Yet what he desired even more was to spit into your mouth right after he made you cum. In a way it was perverted, he figured, yet he couldn’t shake off the addicting feeling he gets whenever he’d do it.

ajax’s slow with it, really, placing a soft loving peck on your cunt before advancing forward to be face to face with his precious angel. You’re so beautiful to him, eyes hazy and dwelling with tears from your previous releases, his thumb feeling up your cheeks before meeting your plump lips, pushing against them to pry your mouth open. He was so drunk on love and neediness right now, carefully letting a bulb of saliva loose from his mouth until it hit the tip of your tongue, spit melting together with your own before you decided to swallow it in front of him and archons, his view was threatening to turn white in said scenario, that’s how far gone he was right now.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗗𝗜𝗟𝗨𝗖

your moans sounded like music to diluc’s ears, so bright and eager, while his fat cock was digging even deeper into your tight cunt. Your body was shivering violently, messy twisted sheets stained with both your juices and his cum when diluc pulled you closer into his embrace. For a moment he propped himself up with his arms to kneel in between your thighs, looking down to where your bodies connected to see his throbbing cock still deep inside of you, your hole sobbing around his girth and trying your utterly hardest to keep him in. 

he could get lost in the sight before him, your little whines once he stilled his movements were only the icing. He feels so warm and big, grinding his cock against you now before collecting some spit in his mouth, the saliva trailing from his lips to the bundle of nerves, spreading it with his thumb before doing it again, only stopping when he feels like you’re properly marked up. Once he’s done he’d drop his whole weight on top of you again, resulting in you mewling out screaming at the way he was completely sheathed into your sobbing cunt now. Diluc’s arms were caging you in, his warmth radiating through your own when he picked up on pace again.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗖𝗬𝗡𝗢

cyno will always have you spread on the bed, soft bedsheets enveloping your figure and hugging the natural curves of your body while he was hovering over you. He hates to say it but, he had an obvious desire to mark you up, more so in many more ways than simply giving you a hickey here and there. Cyno thinks its arousing in a way, to make you swallow not only his cum but his spit once you’re done with sucking him off. You’re currently laying flat on the bed with cyno caging you in with his legs, hovering above you while fisting his cock in front of your face.

he’s so slow with it too, wants you to look at him while he’s pleasuring himself so sinfully before prying your mouth open with the tip of his dick, pushing himself into your wet warmth until he’s fully buried inside of you. You’re taking him like his good little darling, hollowing your cheeks whenever it’d hit the back of your throat before releasing him with a lewd pop. Cyno wants to lock gazes with you, a ball of spit escaping from past his lips, —that had a cute rosy tint— before letting it drop down your tongue, melting with your own saliva when you resumed in sucking him off further. His head is thrown back by now, practically tasting his climax before finally releasing his seed deep inside your throat, pulling you closer until your nose hit his stomach and archons, the way his warm cum ran down your aching throat was beyond pornographic, but more importantly, so fucking addicting. 

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗗𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗘

dottore thinks it’s some sort of blessing if he decides to spit on your cunt to make you even wetter for him. The way it’ll mix together with your juices was so fucking hot in his eyes, couldn’t relish in it enough, really. It will not only resume in him spitting once, but multiple times before he seems satisfied with it. His fingers would carefully graze over your thighs to tease you before hitting your glistering folds, drawing hard n painfully slow circles at your clit to combine the two substances together.

It’s almost as if he was using your body as a test subject to conduct researches on you, would probably even admit to it if you were to ask. His hard cock, —that had a big vein around its shaft—, was now rubbing around your hole, prodding his tip in to see your reaction, making a mental note to never forget how you reacted to his sweet little teasing. Other than that, dottore wasn’t really putting your pleasure first, making it viewable as he snapped himself forward with a single motion, fully tucked into your warm cunt and going in a relentless pace now. You should be thankful he even prepared you for him, so if it was only him who was to cum tonight, you wouldn’t mind, right? As long as he was satisfied.

˖˚˳⊹ 𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗧𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗘

he always wants you to suck him off while he’s deeply concentrated in his paperwork, it was almost a daily thing pantalone seeked from you. If there was something he actually disliked the most, it was when it seemed like you weren‘t really there in the moment, he’ll give you plus points if you’re messy with him though. You see, he’s very calculating, always watching your expressions and trying to decipher them in every way imaginable. You’re hollowing your cheeks up while simultaneously swirling your tongue over his big girth, fuck, how he adored it whenever you hit him with that certain technique, he taught you well after all. 

your saliva pooling down from the corners of your lips until they reach your chin— he’s quick to catch it, swiping it away with his thumb to taste it on his tongue. The sight in front of you made you clench your thighs together, trying to feel some sort of pleasure yourself. He hasn’t touched you in so long! Maybe if you’re putting on a really good show tonight he might reward you just how he always did whenever you did something very well. "Stop." he‘s demanding with that word, pantalone pulled himself out of your wet warmth to replace them with his gloved fingers, splitting your mouth open to spit in it aggressively, without any shame. "don‘t swallow yet." he‘s commanding, —yet so handsome—, examining how your tongue is prodding lightly out, trying your best to suppress yourself from swallowing his saliva before he finally gave you a silent nod, a sort of confirmation that you were allowed to taste it properly now. "you‘re so obedient." saying that with his infamous pseudo smile which was painted all over his beautiful facial features. 

5.5k event special

do not! share, copy or repost my work. ✎ ©ANANTARU 2022

Clandestine Rendezvous | Himmel x Reader

If you weren’t so turned on and so touchy, the assignment would have done by now. If you weren’t teasing him, this wouldn’t have happened. If you weren’t wearing that skirt and thigh highs he wouldn’t be so hard right now.

All these reasons he could possibly think of endlessly hovered in his mind, but such excuses turned out so petty when he himself had secretly enjoyed this erotic and salacious “accident” you displayed for him.

Nameless Bard x Fem!Reader

disclaimer: NB is aged up and story is set on modern AU, service top Himmel and power bottom reader

warning: NSFW content, this fic is just pure smut no actual story, multiple orgasm, public sex

art belongs to: ylceon

word count: 11.2k

note: this is a two-part valentine special fic for my beloved himmel <33 i didnt mean to turn this into a valentine special but i just thought hey why not do it since imma eventually gonna post the second part in white day (march 14th)

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Childe with a naive s/o...they're just so tiny and cute but they haven't even had their first kiss! Childe is the perfect person to teach them! After all, he's so smart, strong, and never has selfish intentions. And Childe knows best and that does include sex and discovering kinks! Bonus points if they're often stoic or quiet and Childe just riles them up. Every facial expression, whimper, and moan is all because of him.

content warnings. naive! reader, virginity loss, unprotected sex, fellatio, size kink, cock-warming, dacryphilia, vaginal fingering, afab! reader. minors dni!

yes <3

<< thirst collection >>

you trust childe a lot ♡

even if it make your heart shakes when you kiss him, his hand dipping lower and lower to your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties. it dizzying, foreign to the feeling; you buried your face to his neck, clinging on him while you straddled his hips.

even if he come to join you in your bed, calloused palm from years of training and wielding various weapons traced against your belly and up to your chest, fondling with your tits until you playfully whine him to stop. your eyes fluttered to watch his finger pulling down your shorts, letting it hang on your ankles before playing with your pretty cunny <3 he lives of by your quiet moans, your fist tugging his shirt to pull him into a kiss. you'd just ended up falling sleeping against him with his finger stuffed inside of you.

childe taught you many things, ranging from how to play with yourself when he isn't near you to giving him a blow job under his desk. love to see your bruised lips wrapping around his tip, sucking and kissing while you stroke it with your two fist. he thinks it's adorable seeing your cheeks puffing up, eyes watering from having him deep down your throat. the warm coil settled in your belly, sending tingles down to your virgin cunt when he praises you a lot <3

he's a sweet boyfriend and you are nothing but his eager partner who's too innocent for her own good ><

he'd be the type to fucked you till you're crying, hiccuping from having his cock stretching you apart. sucking your sensitive nipples till you're back arching, cumming just from his fingerpad gently rubbing your clit. although he wasn't rough, his size itself bring discomfort to you, make your nails sunk into his shoulder blade. you're too cute, make him want to bend your body beneath and split you apart with his cock but childe didn't have the heart to treat you like that during your first time, not when you sweetly cry for him to continue, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slowly thrust deep inside of you.

his pretty baby is so cute when they cry, lips quivering before peering their eyes down to see his cock disappearing inside of them <3 couldn't help but to kiss you face all around, holding your hand so you feel safe! you used to be quiet with him but now you're all a mess, whimpering out of pleasure while his cock hits your spongy spot.

he just fucked you into a deep sleep, lifting your limp body and make you sit on his lap while you cockwarm him <3 he still have many nights for you to be taught more things, for now he'd just let you rest.

beside, it's not like you're going anywhere far from him,,

Title: Clingy.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Wanderer x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 5.0k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Modern AU, Non/Con, Blood, Intimidation/Threats of Violence, Toxic Relationships, Emotional Abuse, Slight Financial Abuse, and Codependent Behavior.

On your third date, your boyfriend-at-the-time demanded that you give him a spare key to your ‘shitty shoebox of an apartment’, despite refusing to so much as let you into the penthouse Ei had leased for him while going to a university a hundred or so miles away from the multi-story, marble sculpted, beachside mansion he’d reluctantly flown you out to when he got sick of listening to you ask why he still hadn't introduced you to his moms eight months into your relationship. That probably should’ve been your first red flag, but somehow, you’d persisted. He brought out your competitive side, like that.

He made you want to dig your nails in, plant your teeth in your neck, and refuse to let go. It wasn’t good for you, but nothing he did was good for anyone. That never stopped him from doing it, though.

You could only assume that this – Kunikuzushi, your boyfriend of eighteen months and your ex-boyfriend of one, splayed across the couch in your living room, the keys he’d never given back dangling from his ring finger and the phone you’d forgotten when you left for work that morning in the other – wasn’t going to be good for you, either.

You didn’t say anything at first. It was all you could do to groan, to shake your head, to pretend you didn’t see him or didn’t care long enough to throw your messenger bag onto the nearest chair and tear off your jacket. He’d clearly made himself at home. A textbook was open on your coffee table, a drink from the cheap, trendy café he’d always whined about having to take you to sitting half-empty next to it. He wasn’t looking at either, though, his attention entirely centered on your phone. You didn’t have the energy to pretend to be surprised. He used to like to go through your conversations and delete the contacts he ‘didn’t trust’ when you were together, too, but you’d been more willing to write it off as the cute-but-concerning tick of a jealous boyfriend, back then. You must’ve fallen out of practice after your breakup.

You opened your mouth, but he was ultimately the one to break the silence. “You know Ajax?”

You crossed your arms. “Why are you here?”

“I mean, I know you’re in the same microbiology course, but c’mon, him? The fucker couldn’t tell a proton from a nucleolus. Honestly, I’m surprised he hadn’t flunked out yet. Give it another semester - he’ll be gone by spring, I promise.”

“I didn’t say you could come over.”

“I texted you last night. Did you try to block me again?” You’d blocked him, then reported his number, then changed yours when he’d started using burner phones to drunk dial you in the small hours of the morning and leave disjointed, rambling voice mails about how well he was doing without you, how much time he had now that you weren’t pestering him, how many people he’d slept with since the last time you'd seen each other. All of it was bullshit, obviously, but it was his bullshit. Somehow, he always knew just how to get under your skin. “Scratch that – I’ll take care of it. I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to get through a month without my help.”

You grit your teeth. Swallowing as much of your anger as you could, you stepped in front of him, snatching your phone out of his hands and retreating before he had a chance to take it back. You were tempted to look at what he’d been scrolling through, see which conversation had gotten him so upset, but you forced yourself to turn off your phone completely, to set it down on the far side of your coffee table and think about something else. It’d take hours to fix the damage he’d done, to unblock all the acquaintances he didn’t approve of and the apologize to all the friends he'd insulted under your name. You’d rather get rid of him first, then try to fix everything he'd already started to tear apart. “Get out.”

He scanned over you, his eyes lingering on the wrinkles in your button-up shirt, the cheap material of your dress pants. “Y'know, if we were still together, you wouldn’t have to put up with that shitty job. You could just quit and finally move in with me.”

Once, you’d let him buy you a new laptop when yours gave out in the middle of the semester and you didn’t think you’d be able to scrape enough up for another before you next exam. It’d been a used model, already a few years out of date, and you swore up and down that you’d pay him back when you had the money, but he’d held it over your head for months, smirked and gloated and taken every opportunity to remind you how grateful you should be to have a boyfriend so willing to spoil his oh-so-unfortunate partner. He hadn’t let you pay him back. He hadn’t let you pay for anything until he’d gotten tired of playing savior and went back to acting like a brat, too desperate for your attention to care if he was in-charge. You doubt he’d be any more bearable if you actually moved in with him, if you lived in his house and relied on his good-will. If you actually depended on him.

But, rather trying to say any of that in a way he’d understand, you sighed, clenching your eyes shut. “It’s an internship and I need it for my major. Get out.”

His scowl wavered. “When did you get so bossy? This isn’t going to work if you think you can tell me what to do.”

“I’m not bossy, you’re just a prick. Get out.”

He sat up, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Cut it out. I’m not going to want to get back together if you keep acting so immature.

“I don’t want to get back together with you.” And then, gesturing towards your door. “Get. Out.”

If nothing else, that seemed to shut him up.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, he responded. There was an airy laugh, a thin smile, a certain air of hurt disbelief as he sat up. “You really aren't kidding, are you?”

You didn’t indulge him with a reaction. Rather, you watched with a pressed scowl as he pushed himself to his feet and stepped toward you. He was in his usually ‘too cool to try, but too bored not to’ get-up – ripped jeans and long sleeves striped in black and violet, half a dozen rings and bolts pierced into the curve of each ear and a belt from a brand you couldn’t name, but knew you were supposed to tacked on to further feed into his ego. He must’ve been here all day. His short hair was more disheveled than he usually liked it to be, and you could see more irritation in his dark eyes than you were used to, paired with a certain type of frustration that only ever slipped out when you managed to keep him waiting. You hadn’t, technically (you couldn’t be late to meet someone who you didn’t want to see), but you didn’t bother trying to point that out.

“I thought it’d be nice to see you after… How long? Five weeks?” He glanced down, starting to toy with something in his back pocket. “I thought we could order lunch, talk for a while, maybe watch a movie or something. Then, I don’t know…” His smile took on an apologetic lull, almost pleading. “Kiss and make up? It’s not like any of this is new for us.”

He wasn’t wrong. You’d been together for a year and a half, and most of that had been spent caught up in ear-splitting, tear-inducing, world-ending fights. He’d burn the notes you borrowed from your classmate, and you'd refuse to talk to him for a week. You’d decide you were over his constant mood swings and go on a date with the cute guy from your calculus class, and he’d mail a slab of raw meat to your best friend because, in his own words, ‘you couldn’t come up with such a stupid idea by yourself’. It wasn’t balanced, you would never be able to give as much as he took, but still. When he started yelling, you did too, and when he showed up at your door a few days later, his eyes still bloodshot from crying, you always took him back. Because he was Kunikuzushi. Because you loved him.

Because you knew he’d make your life hell, if you didn’t.

Which was exactly why you couldn’t just… kiss and make up, this time. Not if it’d mean swallowing your pride and letting him get everything he wanted.

You sighed, but kept your arms crossed, your expression stern. “I’m tired, Kuni. I don’t want to do this anymore.” You paused, bit down on the side of your tongue. “It’s not good for either of us. We’re not good together. I don’t want to pretend that we are.”

His smile wavered, but didn’t fall. “What do you mean, babe?”

“I mean,” You braced yourself, shut your eyes. “I think you should leave.”

At least he seemed to hear that. You watched with as little sympathy as you could manage as his grin cracked and fell away, as his shoulders slumped downward, as he let out an airy chuckle that cracked halfway through. “You’re breaking up with me?”

“We broke up a month ago.” And he’s been insufferable ever since. “And we’re not getting back together.”

Parted lips, glassy eyes. He raked a hand through his bangs, doing what he could to blink away the tears slowly forming in the corners of his eyes. This wasn’t new, and yet, you still found yourself struggling not to break, not to embrace him and mutter soothing nothings while he sobbed quietly into your shirt and wrapped his arms around your waist and, inevitably, ended up on his knees, his face buried between your legs as he made you cum until you forgot why you’d been mad at him in the first place. “Fine. That’s fine. Honestly, that’s great. I don’t know why I’d ever want to be with such a heartless bit—” His voice broke before he could finish. He made a half-hearted effort to wipe at his eyes, but that only drew more attention to the tears starting to roll down his flushed cheeks, only made you more tempted to pull him into a kiss and act like this had never happened. “Fine. If you’re really that sick of me, I’ll go.”

He pushed past you, starting towards your door. That was what you wanted. Kunikuzushi gone, your apartment empty, your life just a little less fucked than it always seemed to be when he was a part of it. You should’ve let him go. You should’ve stood there until he was gone. You should’ve let him leave.

But you heard another hitched sob, a string of muttered swearing, and something in your chest broke open. With a shallow sigh, you dropped your arms to your sides, forcing yourself to speak through clenched teeth. “…do you want a hug before you leave?”

Kunikuzushi glanced over his shoulder. “A hug? What do you think I am, a toddler?”

“It's the only thing I'm putting on the table. Do you want it or—”

You never got the chance to finish. His arms were already around you, pinning your arms to your torso as he buried his face in your shirt. You choked back your protests, forced yourself to fight the instinct to push him away, and in a few excoriating seconds, his hold on you loosened, his back straightening, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder and his lips pressing into your neck. There was a lingering8 kiss laid onto your jugular, then another to the corner of your jaw, but you didn’t bother to try and push him away. Instead, you only shifted in his arms, nudging at his chest. You’d gotten yourself into this, called him back when he was a few steps away from leaving. You only had yourself to blame. “I didn’t say you could—”

“I knew you’d change your mind.” A hand fell to the small of your back, the heel of his palm pressing into the base of your spine. “You always do. You always make the right choice, in the end.”

You opened your mouth, ready to remind him that you weren’t taking him back, but you hesitated. He was always weird, just a little too hostile, just a little too desperate to keep you close to him, but you didn’t trust the levity in his voice, the way his smile pressed into your skin despite how close he’d come to crying a few minutes ago. “I think…” You trailed off, bit down on the side of your tongue. “I haven't changed my mind. You have to—”

Something flat and stiff pressed into your back – the blunt edge of a switchblade. His switchblade, you realized, dredging up hazy memories of bandages wrapped around thighs and hollow promises that he’d be more careful, next time. You heard his nails drum against smooth metal, felt something cold and sharp cut into the skin above your shoulder blade, and you froze, your mind instantly going blank.

He laughed, the noise cracking and airy. Warm breath fanned over the crook of your neck, and he melted into you, nuzzling into the curve of your throat. “I love you.” And then, pressing the blade into your flesh. “Say you love me too.”

Automatic, robotic. The only thing you could spit out through grit teeth. “I love you.”

Another laugh – more giddy, this time, more eager. If he noticed your reluctance, it clearly didn’t bother him. The switchblade was pulled up to the nape of your neck, then drawn in a loose arch to your collarbone, the tip never leaving your skin. “I mean, yeah, obviously. That’s why we get to stay together, even when we’re at each other’s throats.”

He paused, burrowed into you. In turn, you were dragged further into his chest, but pushed away just as quickly, allowed to get just far enough to make it possible for Kunikuzushi to raise his free hand to the collar of your shirt and drag you into a clumsy, rushed kiss – too rough and too forceful for anyone but him to enjoy. His teeth scraped against your lips, his tongue dragging over yours, but he pulled away with a breathy groan, his pale cheeks flushed and his eyes still glossed over. “…you didn’t get with anyone while I was gone, right? You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?”

How could you? He hadn’t given you room to breathe, let alone get past anything more than a first date with someone new. Even when you’d been together (actually together, not fighting or on a break), he’d been so suffocating, so possessive, you’d never been able to get any further than heavy petting, oral, his body on top of yours and your legs wrapped around his waist before he said something you couldn’t brush off and the night devolved into something... less romantic. It was hard to be with someone like Kunikuzushi, someone who acted like they’d rather give up the air in their lungs than a second of your time. Even after a year and a half, it was hard to let your guard down around him when he seemed so willing to give you every reason you ever could've needed to keep it up.

You guessed you should’ve expected this, looking back on it. He’d was bound to get tired of waiting for you to trust him eventually.

This was just his way of letting you know that he’d never really needed you to, in the first place.

Stiltedly, you shook your head, and he let out a relieved sigh. “Perfect. That’s why we’re supposed to be together.” He kissed the corner of your lips, then your forehead. “You’d never hurt me.”

He didn’t give you time to respond. Instead, he took you by the hand – his fingers intertwining with yours as he turned and tugged you forward, moving to lead you further into your apartment. The switchblade left your skin, falling momentarily to his side, and for a few brief seconds, you considered trying to get away, jerking yourself out of your hold and running as far away as you could get from him and his fucking issues. You made a passing effort, but Kunikuzushi’s grip turned crushing as soon as you began to shift, and you gave up before he could break something more vital than your heart. He was between you and the door, you and your phone. He had a knife, a weapon. He had you, and until he decided he was done, he wasn’t going to let you go without a fight.

With little ceremony, you were drawn out of your living room and into your cramped bedroom. Kunikuzushi let go of your hand, but you didn’t have time to run before you were being pushed onto your unmade bed, before he was straddling your waist and pinning you to the center of the mattress. The knife was brought back to your neck, but quickly plunged lower, slid beneath your uppermost button and used to separate thread from fabric. Somehow, annoyance managed to overshadow your panic, if only for as long as it took for one rational thought to be followed by another. This was your nicest shirt, one of a handful you’d splurged on for your internship, but it wasn’t like Kunikuzushi would ever understand anything like that. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to, before.

The tip caught on the slight dip below your diaphragm and you winced, a few dots of red immediately seeping into white fabric. You winced, beginning to protest on reflex. “Kuni’, that—”

“I’ll take care of it.” Absentminded, only half conscious that he was speaking at all. He reached the hem, pulling his switchblade free and letting your dress shirt fall away from your chest and over your shoulders, as useless as it was embarrassing. “I’ll take care of everything when we’re done. Just sit pretty and keep your mouth shut for a while.”

Really, you could only wonder why you hadn’t dumped him sooner.

Your pants were next, slits carved into the material over your hips and ruined fabric torn away. He moved to cut off your boxers, too, but seemed to hesitate, to linger, to find the strength to pause just long enough to drag two fingers over your clothed slit and press the pad of his thumb into your clit. You hissed at the friction, but Kunikuzushi only smiled, dipping his head low enough for his lips to ghost over your collarbone, then the midline of your chest, then the tender spot just below your navel. The last was accompanied by a slight groan, throaty and deep. You did what you could to block it out. This would be better if you didn’t think about it, if you just imagined he was trying to win you back after a fight, that there was a wilting rose in his other hand and not a knife already stained with your blood.

It was almost a mercy when his hands finally slipped under the hem of your boxers, doing away with your last layer of protection with only a slight laugh and a lilting smile. You did what you could to relax, to lean back and close your eyes, but Kunikuzushi’s weight was an ever-present anchor to reality, only made worse as he shifted lower, as he pulled your legs apart and threw them over his shoulders. He pressed wet, open-mouthed kisses into the inside of your thighs, his teeth ghosting over tender flesh as he sucked harsh bruises into whatever he could reach. This was his favorite part, by far. He’d always been clingy – possessive to the point of total, nail-biting, jaw-locking paranoia. At first, you’d been able to write it off as a sort of overeager enthusiasm that came with a new relationship, but he’d never stopped. He was always ready, always desperate to dig his teeth into your skin and leave as many marks as you’d let him – or rather, as many as he possibly could before you were able to pry him away. Even then, you’d tried to think of it as cute, just one of the quirks of your immature-but-loving boyfriend. Now, all you could do was hope it’d be over soon.

It took him full minutes to actually reach your cunt, for his tongue to lave over your slit. Instantly, you stiffened, clenching your eyes shut and attempting to ignore the heady sounds of his whimpering moans, the feeling of his tongue tracing patterns in your entrance. It was sloppy, messy, all drool and teeth and clutching hands, but warmth flooded into your core as the bridge of his nose ground into your clit, as his hands wrapped around your hips and dragged you that much closer to his mouth. Everything he did was dirty, but he knew you, knew your body, knew that you’d have to spread your legs as soon as his tongue thrust into you.

You arched your back as two fingers slid into your entrance alongside his tongue, scissoring you open while his attention shifted to your clit – his lips sealing around the sensitive bundle of nerves while he sucked gently. If he hadn’t been so vocal, it might’ve been more bearable, but no, he couldn’t seem to stop whining into your cunt, to stop sending waves of those awful reverberations from your clit to your core every time he whimpered or grunted or moaned. Before you could stop yourself, your hips were rolling weakly against his mouth as he nursed you through your sudden climax. When you fell limp, his mouth fell away, but his hand still cupped your pussy, his fingers still curling and thrusting inside of you.

He didn’t slow down, didn’t let up, not until you were crying out and clenching around him, not until you could feel the slick running down your thighs, soaking into your sheets. He didn’t stop until you were babbling – spitting out incoherent pleas for him to slow down before the overstimulation turned from overwhelming to agonizing. You were forced to endure another kiss to the inside of your thigh, the wet sound of his tongue running over his fingers, but he pulled away in a few seconds, finally letting you have just enough space to breathe. Even that was temporary, cut short by his lips crashing into yours. You could taste yourself on his tongue, as little as you wanted to. You could feel him panting against your lips, and it was all you could do not to scream.

He pulled away abruptly, grinning. “You’re a virgin.”

It wasn’t a question, but you found yourself shaking your head, denying it on instinct. “I never—"

“You didn’t have to.” There was a peck to the corner of your lips, another to your cheek. “I know everything about you. Your parents were too strict to let you date in high school, and none one’s ever lasted more than a couple of weeks with you before me. Since you wouldn’t so much as take off your shirt around me before our three-month anniversary, I’m going to assume you weren’t a total slut before we met.”

You narrowed your eyes, shoving gently at his chest. You just needed space. You just needed him to get away from you. “So?”

“So,” he leaned in, his smiling growing that much wider. “I’m going to ruin you.”

It was something about his tone, the dark glint in his eyes as he leered over you. Your heart dropped in your chest, and very distinctly, something very large and very sharp began to crawl up your throat.

You started to shake your head, but he was already edging jeans downward, already freeing his cock – the flushed tip leaking precum in fat, white pearls. His weight was enough to keep you pinned down as he aligned himself with your entrance, as he traced the head over the length of your slit, and his eyes never left your face, your expression painted with heavy strokes of horror and disbelief. He never wavered, never blinked, even as he thrust inside of you, bottoming out in a single uninterrupted motion. Even as you cried out, the sound more pained than anything else. Even as you felt a single, warm teardrop fall off of his cheek and onto yours. You hadn’t realized you’d shut your eyes, not until you forced yourself to open them, not until you found him cloudy-eyed and grinning above you.

He was crying, again.

Huh.

You thought he would’ve given up on that, by now.

He wasn’t gentle. He’d never been delicate with you, but right now, it felt like he was trying to be rough, to pin your legs against your chest and split you open every time he moved his hips, every time he found a way to hit something deeper and more sensitive inside of you. You tried to scream, but your voice caught in your throat, strangling itself into something more akin to a cracked whine and a few broken whimpers. The stretch, the pressure was more than you could take. You couldn’t stop yourself – going rigid underneath him, your eyes rolling back as your mouth fell open in a silent, agonized cry. Your reactions, however involuntary, only seemed to spur Kunikuzushi on, his pace growing more erratic and his breath now coming in quick, shallow pants. No matter what you did, it just made him worse.

You could hear him talking, distantly – little mumbled tangents forming between thrusts. “You’re just so—” He cut himself off with a long, wordless moan. “We’ll do this every day, until— until you know you don’t need anyone but me. Then, you’ll love me, and you’ll never have to—” He thrust deeper into you, letting out a fracturing laugh. “And then, I’ll rip out your tongue and cut off your legs if you try to leave. We’ll always be together. No one will ever, ever take you away from me again.”

You weren’t with him. You didn’t want to be with him. If it wasn’t for his immaturity, his manipulativeness, his fucking knife, this wouldn’t be—

His knife.

Both of his hands were on your thighs, his nails digging into your flesh, keeping your knees pressed into your chest. He wasn’t holding it. He couldn’t be.

Without daring to look away from him, you groped around the mattress blindly, your fingertips eventually brushing against something cold and metallic – his switchblade lying abandoned on the edge of the bed. You took it up before you could hesitate, gripping the handle tightly enough for the sharp corners to bite into your palm, for your hand to cramp and go numb by the time you found the strength to actually lift it up. You didn’t aim. You didn’t have time to, not unless you wanted to think about what you were doing, not unless you wanted to let Kunikuzushi win. Not unless you could—

The curved tip just barely made contact with the skin above his collarbone before you faltered, before he had time to catch your wrist in an iron-clad hold. You tried to let go of the switchblade reflexively, but his hand shifted to wrap around yours, to keep the blade pressed into his chest – applying just enough pressure to break the skin. “Do it.” Soft, drawn out, too eager to mean anything good. “I’d let you carve your name into me, if you wanted to. All you'd have to do is ask.”

You didn’t ask. You didn’t want to. You didn't want any of this, but Kunikuzushi pressed the blade in his skin regardless, letting out muttered confessions of love and loyalty as a thin red line formed in his flesh, as blood dripped down his chest and disappeared behind the loose collar of his shirt, blotting against the dark fabric. He guided your blade to his lips, next, making a small nick in the corner of his mouth before taking the switchblade out of your hand and tossing it onto the floor, out of your reach. It would’ve hurt less if he’d tried to hurt you, too, taken the blade to your skin after his own. If would've hurt less if he’d acknowledged that you’d tried to do anything at all.

You didn’t have much time to linger on that thought, though. He was already moving again, already making up for time lost by fucking into you like a man crazed. With no preparation, no warning, he jerked forward, his chest pressing into yours as he kissed you, as he forced his tongue past your teeth and smeared his blood over your lips. It felt like you were drowning in nickel, being slowly suffocated by some nameless, slick, oppressive force. It felt like you were choking, despite being able to breathe, to think as clearly as you’d ever been able to around him. It felt like you were going to die.

But, you weren’t. He’d never be so kind, he’d never let you have that kind of comfort, not when he was still grinding into you, not when his cock was twitching against the walls of cunt and he was groaning into your mouth without reservation. You could feel your poor overstimulated pussy clenching around him, your vision burning white around the edges as, for lack of anything more stable to hold onto, you wrapped your arms around his neck and raked your nails over his back, clawing into whatever you could reach. If he noticed, if he cared, it only worked to drag him that much closer, to leave him as deep as he could possibly be when he finally finished, when you felt something warm and vile flood into you.

He stayed like that for a long moment, silent and unmoving, his chest pressed into yours and his lips trailing from your mouth to your throat, settling just above your jugular. It was a small mercy when he finally pulled away and straightened his back, easing himself out of you and wiping the blood off of his face, his neck. You watched from a distance as he fixed his clothes, before pushing himself to his feet, never sparing you so much as a second glance. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Pack your stuff, and make sure you’ve gotten your shit together by then. I’m not letting a mess like you into my apartment.” He paused, lingered long enough to smile. With no sense of visible urgency, he walked to the side of your bed, retrieving his switchblade and kissing your forehead softly, gingerly, with a kind of tenderness you could only wish he’d found a few hours earlier. “I love you, babe. Even when you act like a fucking idiot.”

His grin pressed into flesh, cutting and cruel.

“And I’m so, so glad you’ve realized that you love me too.”

⸸ Yandere Lobotomy Corp — Plague Doctor Headcanons ⸸

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

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

A kind smile, a sultry voice, and a form that humans could love and worship.

That was everything the Plague Doctor was meant to be.

So, when he first came to the facility, it came as no surprise to see all these humans flocking around him like flies drawn to an irresistible slab of meat.

It was all going according to plan. He would never have bothered to conceal himself it didn't get him the followers he needed.

All except you. You, who refused to acknowledge him as anything more than 'Abnormality.'

It was honestly insulting to be called that, as if he were the wayward soul in this place. It was not him that was the problem. It was all these miniscule creatures believing that they are the top of the world.

It's called, 'pride'...and it is a sin you are very guilty of, dear.

Before you are worthy of seeing his true form and the paradise he can give, you must learn about humiliation first.

Your refusal to trust and open up to him is more or less...thrilling. It wasn't often that he encountered a human rejecting him directly. Even the most pious and virtuous of men fall into his clutches eventually. It would be delicious to see your free will eventually break for him, and he wanted to be there to savor it.

But alas, you just. Wouldn't. Crack.

If he so much as take a step closer to you, never mind try to touch you, you immediately try to flee from him.

Why? Whywhywhywhy--W H Y?

He keeps that calm, gentle, ever-serene façade, but deep down, he was dying to pin you down and force you to worship him.

WHY WON'T YOU WORSHIP HIM?

After the third blessing, he did everything to be of service to you. Befriending you. Even offering you to find solace in his containment unit when you seemed to be on the verge of breaking. You remained distant.

After his fifth blessing, he offered to heal all your scars and injuries, but you refused, stating that you could just heal immediately in the Main Room of your department.

After his eight blessing, he told many of his believers to persuade you into trusting him. They had told you how good he was to them, how much he cared for all of the Agents...and how much he worried about you, especially.

After his tenth blessing, he feigned heartache and sadness, for a certain 'infidel' refused to accept his 'help'. Not long after, you suddenly began to find threatening letters in your bunker, your locker, in your favorite spots...No matter where you went, you didn't feel safe, even around other humans. His cult was always watching you.

After his eleventh blessing, his benevolent mask began to crumble. You can hear in his voice exhaustion, weariness, irritation. Naturally, he kept his amiable manner of speech, but occasionally, you swore you saw his closed eyes flutter open...and you saw red.

If you still didn't choose to accept him after the twelfth blessing, well...don't say he didn't try to spare you.

"I only wish to serve you, to heal you of your wounds and heartache. I want to save you...so why doth thee refuse me?"

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

I must confess...I would quite certainly die if I were an agent working for L-Corp.

As you can see, I have absolutely no reservation kissing mysterious guys dressed entirely in black, looking like fallen angels from the Bubonic Plague.

Oh, and here is a sneak-peek of what's to come next:

Things are only about to get spicier, dear Anon. Don't fret that I have forgotten thee~

- Eldritch

Jealous Venti stuff cause I'm on that rn

Warnings: general sagau, possessiveness I suppose, mild codependency

-

Obviously you can only split your attention so many directions, it was inevitable something would eventually slip through.

Venti was just so sure it would never be him, and yet...

Five minutes was nothing, not in the face of the eternity he'd been waiting before you descended.

He mental cringed at how much like Ei that sounded.

Five minutes turned to ten, which soon rolled over into twenty. But he was nothing if not dutiful, or perhaps that was just another way of saying obsessive.

Dutiful, obsessive, completely and utterly infatuated, what did the wording matter, the end result was the same. The end result was him willing to stand outside your chamber door all night, if only to confirm you had really slept somewhere else, potentially even with someone else.

It made him nauseous. Worse than nauseous. It made him feel as if a black hole was consuming him from the inside, tearing his body apart at an atomic level.

That was a normal thing to feel, right? A deep set hatred, one he never even thought himself capable of, when your attention was anywhere but him.

Not at you, god never at you. The day he started feeling anything less than complete bliss at simply the thought of you was the day he'd die, by his own hands if it came to that.

No it wasn't you, it was everything else, every single thing in the entire never ending universe that wasn't you or him simply didn't matter. It didn't deserve the emotional energy that would be wasted, that would be better spent on you.

It was around the two hour mark now, 7,243 second to be more precise.

Venti's legs were starting to hurt, his unwillingness to move even the slightest centimeter until he finally layed eyes on you was catching up to him.

You should have been back by now...

He played with the idea of going to look for you himself multiple times throughout the past two hours, but the thought of being gone when you did finally return, the thought of you closing your chamber door in order to rest, effectively barring him from seeing you until morning—

His waiting did finally pay off, the sight of you entering his peripheral, his ability to breathe halting momentarily.

It took only a mere two seconds before you were no longer on your feet, knocked to the ground with the force of a thousand winds, or at least the one who controlled them.

"Venti??"

"Where were you?"

It was said with such unfiltered sadness from where he lay on top of you, his hands snaking around your waist so your position was something closer to a hug.

"I— I was with Kaeya—" You stuttered, thrown slightly off guard.

Venti's grip noticeably tightened.

You regained your composure and elaborated, "After the meeting, which went on for longer than expected, he wanted to update me on a Treasure Hoarder situation that was being monitored."

You weren't particularly surprised by Venti's sudden display of affection, but the fact he didn't even wait until you were inside your bedroom was a bit suspicious.

"You shouldn't be bothered with that," he was quick to retort, a mild venom lacing his words, "It's his job, is Kaeya so incompetent that he has to rope you into such trivial matters?"

'He was just doing it so he could spend more time with you.'

That part went unspoken, its implication hanging in the air.

You were starting to see a bit more of the picture, maneuvering yourself to a sitting up position with a sigh and allowing him to wordlessly crawl into your lap, burying his face against you as you stroked his hair.

"I promise you it was something that required my attention, but I'm sorry for making you wait nonetheless."

Venti let out a hum, seemingly satisfied with your answer, or maybe it was just the fact he couldn't be anything but wholly happy in this position if he tried.

The repetitive movement of finger gliding through his hair halted for a moment, it was only a moment but fear immediately coursed through him at the thought of you pulling away.

"Maybe we could move out of the middle of the hallway now?"

Oh. Right. You were both still on the floor. Although, in your embrace, he could have been in the depths of the abyss itself and wouldn't have bothered to notice.

You got a small, almost completely unnoticeable nod in return, choosing to cautiously return to a standing position as Venti's hold barely loosened.

It would be practically impossible to walk even five feet like this, so you opted on deploying strategy A, created for this exact situation after the fifth time it happened.

You moved your hand to brush over his face, catching his attention as he pulled back just enough to allow you to position it under his chin, as you then pushed his head up to his eyes met yours.

An unknown question died in his throat as your lips quickly captured his own, it only took half a second before he melted into it, succumbing to all the glory that was you.

You waited a second longer before pulling away, ensuring that he would be too out of it to try and stop you.

Just as you expected, he was practically putty, allowing you to simply drag him along as he slowly came down from that high. The next thing he consciously registered was he was somehow in your room, laying at the foot of your bed as you exited bathroom with a pair of pajamas on.

"Your grace please..." Venti whined, the realization that you took advantage of his blissed out state, albeit not in the way he would have liked, dawning. "That's not fair..."

"Well I'm sorry that the bed is more comfortable than the hallway floor."

Once you finally situated yourself in a comfortable position Venti went back to draping himself on top of you, resting his head between your shoulder and neck, soaking up all warmth you provided.

It only took a minute for him to remember why you were late again, unpleasant feelings once again festering.

"You know," Venti started, his breath against your neck causing you to shiver, "If Treasure Hoarders are the reason, maybe I should just take care of them tomorrow, since Kaeya can't seem to."

The last part of that was mumbled, but audible nonetheless. You let out a hum in response.

"I don't think that's necessary."

Well that hurt.

Did you not think he was capable? Had he not proven himself time and time again to be incredibly capable of taking care of some of the less than pleasant problems you faced? Did you think Kaeya was more capable than him???

"Your grace, I'm not quite sure you understand my intentions."

Venti was quick to grab your hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it with a wink. "I would make the world bleed for you. I want you to rely on me."

You almost felt the need to laugh, someone offering to be your rock to lean on? To be your solid ground amidst a sea of uncertainty? A part of you found it amusing, and a part of you found it sad.

Venti seemed to read your blatant apprehension.

"No one else matters," he continued, "No one ever will. I could make everything about you."

He moved his head to face you, so you could see how genuine his eyes were.

"You wouldn't have to worry about anything, ever." He inched closer with every word, "Not the Treasure Hoarders, not Kaeya or the knights or Mondstadt. I'd take care of it all." Venti finished, his lips barely a hairs breath away from yours, wanting that small gap to close but never taking.

You want it, him, the promise he gives but could never keep. That was just the problem wasn't it, your wants didn't matter, you had a role to fill.

You pulled away, the rift between you growing, Venti let out a pained sigh.

"Do you really hate me that much?"

He sounded genuinely heartbroken, as if he would much prefer you to have physically hurt him than even insinuate you didn't want to touch him.

"You know I don't." You replied in an exhausted tone, "If the circumstances were different, if I wasn't me, there would be nothing that could stop me from taking you up on that. But I can't abandon them, and it's not fair to ask you to pick up the slack."

Venti's face darkened, of course they were the problem, they would always be the problem.

"So selfless..." There was a bitter tone to his voice, a bite that challenged anyone who wanted to even try and stop him from taking you all to himself, "They don't deserve it."

You winced slightly at his tone, a movement he felt. He offered an apology in the form of soft kisses pressed against your collarbone, lazy movements as his hair tickled your neck.

You bit back a giggle, feeling his actions leading him up your neck, then to your jaw, eventually peppeing your face while intentionally avoiding your lips.

"Venti! Venti Venti it tickles!" You squeaked out laughing, unable to stop at how you felt him smile against you.

He pressed a final kiss to you forehead, drawing that one out before pulling back, his expression once again going somber.

"I'm being honest you know, just say the word, I'll take care of everything you could ever want, I'd do it all for you in a heartbeat. You'd never have to rely on anyone else, no more incompetent untrustworthy people that don't even deserve to look at you. I could deal with anyone who tries to come between that. I'm an Archon, your Archon, use me like one."

It was enticing, but then again when was he not. The visual image of living something of a normal life, Venti being there to ensure it. No longer being the foundation which the entire world happily rested on, instead using him as your foundation.

It was a nice thought, but that's how it would remain.

"Come on, let's sleep, I'm tired."

That statement was more truthful than anyone could ever imagine, you were tired, physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, all four at once.

A tiny part of you hoped, as much as you didn't feel you deserved it, that when you did finally crack, when the foundation you had forged yourself into finally reached its weight capacity, it would be his arms that you would fall into.