The Unexpected Third And Final Part To The Series I Never Gave A Name To, Otherwise Known As A Continuation

𝐌𝐘 𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑, 𝐌𝐘 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃.

pairing. venti, afab reader

warnings & contents. breeding. overstim. obsession. delusional venti. squirting. not proofread (wrote this at 2 am)

synopsis. just some headcanons of sagau yandere jealous venti who’s completely in love with you :)

notes. i have been obsessed with sagau lately and only see v few works :(( here i am satiating my need to read more sagau (when there’s none to read anymore) through writing one myself

wc. 1.5k

Keep reading

loving you keeps me alive - reader x ghost!dainsleif, 4.4k

your little house in monstadt is cheap, and though there are rumours about why … you ignore them, much as you ignore the whispers that something is not quite right. instead, you think about the night-time; and the handsome blond man who comes to you in dreams.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. dubious consent. yandere behaviour, somnophilia, stalking, self-hate (dainsleif towards himself), haunting, non-consensual touching. cunnilingus, piv sex. manipulation, deaths mentioned in passing. jealousy. reader is afab, but no pronouns or gendered terms are used.

[a/n: my kinktober masterlist can be found here. dain my soggy soggy beloved]

Dainsleif doesn’t think he really remembered what living felt like, until you moved in. 

Not that you can call this strange in-between existence ‘living’ - his time as a true mortal has long since passed. But as Celestia has cursed him to not move on … he has spent his years and centuries since then haunting these same four walls, unable to pass the doorway without finding himself bent over in pain. He has grown to know every plank of wood that makes up the little home in Monstadt - every creaking floorboard, the step on the stairs the landlord has replaced no less than three times because tenants kept simply putting their foot through.

Oh, others have tried to make this their home.

But Dainsleif values his privacy, and uses what little power he still has left to ensure that they do not stay for long.

Keep reading

Kinktober day 7:

Breeding w/ Tighnari

Mentions of knotting (slight)

“That’s it, that’s it,” Tighnari’s hips were rutting against your already overstimulated cunt. You’ve lost count of how many times you’ve come under his skillful touch and ruthless cock.

“You are going to look so adorable with your belly swollen,” Tighnari muses again, whispering with grunts as he bench-pressed you even harder. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, akin with sweating and panting were the only thing you could here. You were getting fucked mindless.

“Yes— yes, Tighnari,” you managed to utter with soft gasps, tears pooling in your eyes with the sensation of how good it truly felt.

“I’m going to fill you up, baby. I’m going to fill you up until you can’t take it. Breed you full of my seed, and if— you let any of it escape? I’ll be disappointed. Disappointment brews punishments,” Tighnari lectured, stopping his cock for a moment, nestling it inside your spongy walls and feeling your tightening at his words.

He leaned in, kissing your forehead tenderly. “Do not let my seed escape, yes? I believe you can do that,” Tighnari started moving again, leaning back slightly, his hands caressing your pelvis, crawling towards your lower back as he lifted you up from there, your pelvis in air, under his support.

You screamed out when he led another thrust in. It brushed against your sweet-spot, the pressure of the head of his cock churning your already filled hole led you to complete ecstasy. “AHHH!” You squealed, feeling the painful pleasure course through every single vein in your body.

“Sssh~” Tighnari cooed, keeping a pillow below your back, putting you back down and watching you arch beautifully for him. “God— you look so breathtaking,” he hissed, finding himself close to an orgasm again.

“Hold your legs up for me will you?” He ordered, undertones of affection always laced with them. You nodded, keeping your hands steady below your knees, spreading your legs as much as you can.

Tighnari’s lewd and feral gaze landed onto your slit, how it stretched up while he was still inside you. His thumb went in and pet your swollen clit; inticing another whine from you. “Come with me now, I want the future mommy to be filled with my litter,”

Tighnari tipped off the edge, groaning and almost whimpering as he felt his cock bulge into a knot. The confirmation of it being your loud screams. “Sssh~ sssh~ I know, I know it hurts but this way, you won’t worry about any of my seed seeping down, little one,”

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."

In the middle of the storm

Summary: A storm, a hard landing, an unexpected company and many feelings exposed.

A/N: English is not my first language. Sorry for mistakes. Valyrian isn't my language either. Just a detail, although the events of Storm's End happened here in this story, Lucerys is still alive. Because I want it to be and period hahaha have fun!!

Warnings: nsfw, f!reader, reader is a year older than jacaerys, velaryon/strong reader, sex, targcest, aemond very possessive, pet names, dirty talk, some soft feelings ❤️🥰

"Lykirī, ñuhys raqiros." (Calm down, my friend.) You whispered to your dragon, feeling Merax's annoyed snore shake your body gently. An amused laugh leaves your lips as Merax struggles to do as you've asked. You've been gliding beneath the clouds for a while now, the vastness of the night sky your only company. But Merax felt something, he could see and feel much better than you the clouds getting thick and thunder rumbling in the distance, he smelled a strong storm approaching and he was getting agitated trying to somehow warn you about it.

The two of you were coming from a visit to the Riverlands, looking for allies for the Black's. You came back with good news, which was very rare these days. Your spirit was positively uplifted. After many disappointments, finally some good news to give you some hope. You had the support of a great house now, with resources and numbers that would certainly make a difference in the face of a possible clash.

As your brother Jacaerys had said, dragons were decidedly more convincing than ravens sending messages. Merax, with all his size and sturdiness, made a pretty obvious point in his silent threat that things wouldn't end well if the answer was no. And besides, of course you were prepared to offer your own hand in marriage as an offer of alliance, as ridiculous and oppressive as that sounded to you. But a war was about to break out, you couldn't afford to believe that sacrifices weren't necessary. You were willing to do that, if it meant the Lord of Riverrun's support. You'd sell yourself like cattle if you had to, willing to do anything to ensure your mother's victory. His acceptance was all the motivation the other Lords of the Riverlands needed to also swear their loyalty to Queen Rhaenyra again, as they had done years ago when the then King Viserys Targaryen named her his rightful heir.

Yes, you were engaged now, but it could be worse. Your fiancé wasn't nasty as you knew many were. Indeed, Lord Tully was a good-looking young man; tall, auburn hair, beautiful blue eyes. He also had status as a well-recognized house and a great education. And he had treated you very well during the short time you were in Riverrun for the negotiations.

It wasn't the wedding you had dreamed of for yourself. But it could be much worse, you knew.

You felt the wind abruptly getting stronger at the same time as raindrops began to fall hard on your face, pulling you out of your thoughts. Merax growled and shook off his head. You knew your dragon well enough to know he was upset that you hadn't heeded his warnings sooner. "Ziry iksos separ daomikydoso, Merax. Īlon jahor sagon sȳz." (It's just rain, Merax. We'll be fine.) You said at the same time that lightning whizzed right next to both of you, making you jump in fright. Merax roared louder, shaking his black scales in annoyance.

Merax was very protective of you. From the first flight, both formed a strong bond that surprised many. Merax was a full-grown dragon, strong and terrifying. He was not afraid of rain and lightning, not least because there was nothing to fear, since he himself was a force of nature. But he wanted to protect you, he knew you were different from him obviously. Even if Targaryen blood ran through your veins and made you tougher than others, you were still human. And therefore susceptible to disease and disaster which, for a dragon like Merax, wouldn't be a problem. Whenever you both flew in conditions similar to this, he would get irritated and annoyed. You knew he would fly home in that angry, mumbling state. And there was still a long way to go to Dragonstone, you thought with a snort, it would be an irritating journey.

"Nyke tepagon bē, ao uēpa zaldrizes!" (I give up, you old dragon!) Merax seemed to be pleased with your giving up, though he growled at the nickname. You laughed feeling your hair stick to your rain-soaked face. "Ivestragī's jikagon ilagon, Merax!" (To the ground, Merax!) He wasted no time and obeyed you, shrinking his gigantic wings as he descended fast. You spread your arms, trusting the straps around your body so you could enjoy the freezing rain hitting your face harder on the way down, the strength of the wind against you making you let out an excited yelp knowing no one but Merax could hear. It's been a long time since you felt like this, so free. The obligations and pressures of a war knocking at your doors left everyone tense and with no time for fun. But, heavens, you missed it.

Merax spread its wings again as you both neared the ground, and you turned your attention to where you were going. The rain was very heavy, as was the fog, but when you finally managed to see the ground, you realized that you were under a field of crops. Merax continued gliding along the ground for a while until he reached an area with a large lake, some rocks and mountains around it. His huge paws touched the muddy ground once, twice, three times until he finally dug his claws into the ground to stop. You looked around for where you could take shelter and saw that farther away was a ramshackle shack, clearly abandoned. But it had a semi-decent roof, which would serve to quell the storm until it was safe to fly again. At first you were irritated at the thought of stopping the trip for a silly drizzle, but with the gale shaking your body on top of Merax, the torrential rain that was falling now and the thunder and lightning bursting in your ears louder and louder, you agreed to yourself - with a frown on your face - that Merax was right.

But your dragon wasn't relaxed like you thought he would be when you decided to give in and do his bidding. He looked even more tense now, in fact. Wings outstretched, slightly crouched posture and sharp teeth bared in a menacing snarl as he stared up at the sky. He was ready to fight. But what was it here that posed a threat to a terrifying dragon like Merax?

You could barely see a hand in front of you with the rain pouring down the way it was, but even so you brushed your soaked hair out of your eyes and tried very hard to see what threatened Merax.

At first you didn't notice anything. The only sounds you could hear were the rain falling in full force and Merax's growl below your body. But then a familiar roar sounded above your head, a fierce roar that had you straightening your body in Merax's cell, alert.

Vhagar.

You knew it was her, having heard that roar again before. After your aunt's funeral, after your uncle, Aemond, to claim Vhagar and lose his eye for it. You heard her roar when her rider was wounded, and you never forgot it. It was the same roar as now. And if Vhagar was here, so was Aemond. You haven't seen him since the family dinner fiasco where he humiliated you and your brothers. You had nothing against Aemond, in fact you had defended him when you both were children and your brothers along with his brother made cruel jokes with him. But clearly his uncle was no longer the boy he was before, the intentions of his heart being completely unknown to you at this point. Lucerys recounted a cruel pursuit when he was at Storm's End seeking the support of Lord Borros Baratheon. Thank the gods your brother had managed to escape along with Arrax, but it had been close.

You didn't know what Aemond wanted, or even what he was capable of, and even though neither the Blacks nor the Greens had made a violent move against each other yet, you couldn't help but puff your chest out in preparation. What if Aemond decided to do to you what he did to Lucerys? A cruel and malicious pursuit. Merax was a full-grown dragon, much older than you, perhaps he had even battled another dragon before. You couldn't tell. He hadn't had a fitter for many years before you claimed him for yourself. Until then he was considered a wild dragon, without an owner. But anyway since you became his rider, the two of you hadn't fought another dragon directly before. Much less one of Vhagar's size and experience. You knew that in strength you both wouldn't win, as Merax was smaller than her. But maybe if you kept your cool and a objective strategy, you could escape just like Arrax and Lucerys.

How the hell did Aemond know you were here? You didn't even know you'd be here!

Through the haze of the heavy curtain of rain Vhagar crossed above you, much closer this time. Merax roared aloud in defiance and turned his large body to match her movements.

"Lykirī, Merax." You said in a firm tone, trying to calm your dragon who was starting to act on instinct in the face of the possible threat. You knew you couldn't ask him to fly now, the weather wouldn't favor you. You had no option but to wait for Aemond and Vhagar's first move and then act accordingly.

With a loud thud that shook the earth below you, Vhagar landed. Her giant body oozing rivers of water as she shook her head and her wings with a roar. Merax was restless, not knowing exactly what that meant, but deducing that he was hostile. His paws propelled him forward instinctively, though you again said "Lykirī". But he ignored your request - for the first time - and continued on his way to Vhagar, growling and spreading his wings in defiance.

This was too bad.

Aemond's blond head popped out from behind Vhagar's neck and you could see that he was holding tightly to the ropes that connected her body, pulling on them as he shouted a "Dohaerās, Vhagar". He was trying to control her. So he didn't want to fight. It was just two dragons acting on instinct.

This spurred you to action and before Merax approached Vhagar to the point of no return you also firmly gripped the ropes near the cell, lifting your body a little to gain momentum and shouted as sternly as you could: "DOHAERĀS, MERAX!" He hesitated, wanting to continue walking, but confused by your determination to deny him that. "KELĪTĪS!" You ordered him to a stop with a strong tug on the ropes. Your resolve being tested by the dragon, you knew.

Obviously annoyed and still angry, Merax roared but stopped his advance towards the other dragon. Aemond also having succeeded in taming Vhagar, looked at you soaked in his cell.

"But what the hell do you think you're doing, Aemond? You know you shouldn't approach a full-grown dragon like that! Are you wanting to start the war today?!" You shouted from above Merax to Aemond, trying to control your heart that was beating desperately at the possibility of a fight between the two dragons.

Aemond didn't answer you, instead descending from Vhagar with all the mastery and grace that only a Prince and Rider of his level would have. Even if though he looked like a drowned cat. You watched him turn his back on you and walk across the muddy earth towards the run-down shack.

You stared at him open-mouthed, not understanding anything about this situation.

"Are you going to keep screaming like an animal at slaughter or are you going to seek shelter from this storm, niece?" He spoke loudly over the noise of the rain without stopping his walk. Merax seriously torn between facing Vhagar to the death or facing Aemond, fearful he might offer you harm.

"Nyke'll sagon sȳz, nyke kivio. Sagon sȳz naejot se gevie riñnykeā toliot konīr." (I'll be fine, I promise. Be kind to the beautiful Lady over there.) You said fondly, nodding in Vhagar's direction as you smoothed Merax's hard scales. Somehow Vhagar heard your words and growled at you. You widened your eyes and left as quickly as possible, almost running towards the shack. Far be it from you to want to be the target of Grandma Vhagar's wrath.

You entered the house, which had no door or window, both broken into and decaying on the floor. Large piles of hay scattered across the decrepit floor. Streams of rainwater seeping through the wood of the ceiling and the corners of the walls to the floor. It was all crap. But it kept most of the rain outside, and that in itself was a mercy.

Aemond stood by the broken window, no longer wearing his heavy black coat and leather shirt, wearing only a long-sleeved shirt. Hands clasped behind him, posture perfectly upright looking at the gale outside, water still dripping from his hair and clothes. You stood there in the doorway, eyeing him suspiciously, the one-room house being too small to house all the strangeness that had formed around you both over the years. You didn't trust him. He insulted you more than once by calling you a bastard. He almost killed your brother. He was your rival.

"Are you going in or are you going to keep staring at me until the storm passes?" He grumbled without looking at you. Your bored voice unnerved you. You huffed and walked into the house. The sound of the wind on the boards making the house creak in a frightening way, as well as the flashes of lightning.

You walked in circles around the room, feeling soaked to the bone and shivering. Your boots soaked in water, your thick shirt half red and half black weighing your body so wet and your riding pants clinging to your skin in an irritating way, as well as the gloves on your hands.

You were smart, you'd read enough books to know that keeping your clothes wet on your body in this cold weather wasn't going to end well for you. Chills disease being, in most cases, fatal for those who catch it. And it all starts with a cold. You were one step away from entering a war, you couldn't afford to die from a damn cold.

You knew what to do.

But where could you muster the courage to take off your clothes while standing right in front of your slightly psychotic-leaning uncle?

You stood there debating the options, whether it would be better to work up the courage to do what you knew needed to be done or whether it was better to risk catching a disease and dying, when Aemond turned to you.

"I can hear your teeth chattering even over the roar of the storm, child." He said with a cocky smile, not unclasping his hands behind his body.

Child? You two were almost the same age!

"As if you weren't freezing after that storm too, you idiot!" You screamed, offended and embarrassed, trying to control your jaw quivering in the cold.

He just shrugged.

You felt your body shivering more and more, the cold of your clothes getting deeper into your skin as time passed.

"Take it off." he said, suddenly impatient, taking you by surprise.

"N-no!" You responded too quickly to be considered natural. Yes, you knew it had to be done. But hearing the command from his mouth made you irritated and embarrassed.

Aemond sighed, as if the whole situation was beyond him, as if he didn't deserve to be here with you.

"Come on girl. You and I both know it needs to be done. Let's get this over with." He grumbled walking towards you, as if he was going to take off your clothes himself. Your eyes widened like plates and your cheeks heated up when you realized that.

"I do it alone!" Your desperate words left your lips before he could get any closer.

Gathering courage, you undid the click of the chain that held your sodden cloak around your neck, hanging the fabric over one of the many old boards propped up against the wall. Then you bent down and removed your boots and gloves. Never once did you dare lift your eyes to Aemond, or else you would lose your nerve. Being in his presence for some reason made your heart race and your body tingle in a way it shouldn't have. Your fingers were shaking — you told yourself it was just the cold — as you unbuttoned the long-sleeved shirt, slowly pulling it off his shoulders.

God, why was he still standing right there watching everything?

And more importantly, why weren't you yelling at him about it?

You were feeling overwhelmed with emotions, none of which you should be feeling.

With a final sigh you finished pulling the heavy shirt over your arms, and without stopping to think too much, you pulled your pants down too, leaving only a thin, loose shirt that reached mid-thigh. Your arms instantly crossed in front of your breasts as you remembered that the shirt was also wet and therefore transparent. You wouldn't take that shirt off, even if it meant your death. But stark naked in front of Aemond you wouldn't be. In your peripheral vision you noticed him shifting from one foot to the other, looking impatient. You could have sworn you saw him reach out, but he quickly forced her back behind the body.

You didn't have time to think about the bizarre strangeness of the situation, as he quickly turned around and picked up a pile of hay, placing it in the center of the room, gathering some sticks and rubbing them together trying to generate a spark . Understanding what he was going to do, you felt yourself relax a little, the thought of warming up a bit being very welcome at this point. Targaryen blood or not, the cold was more than you could bear.

Soon you found yourself watching with totally unexpected fascination the mesmerizing way in which Aemond's large hands - thickly veined, you couldn't help noticing - twirled the sticks deftly over the dry hay. The way he gently blew to help sparks turn to flame. The way he seemed to do it easily, as if he'd done it a thousand times before. He gave you a tranquility and control of the situation that left you not knowing what to think.

A flame finally appeared among the hay and Aemond quickly surrounded it with the palm of his hand to keep the wind from blowing it out. He gathered more hay until that flame was higher, then put some sticks and wood chips he found on the ground to make the flame last longer.

You standing around the whole time watching in awe.

When the fire was strong enough to sustain itself, Aemond stood up and pulled his shirt over his head. Just like that.

You haven't had the time or mental preparation to see Aemond's sculpted chest and muscled abs to perfection. His skin glistened with the wetness of the rain against the fire's flames, creating a mesmerizing shadow. White hair clinging to shoulders and chest. He bent down to take off his boots - by divine mercy he left his pants in place - then stood up and turned his back on you. You gasped when you realized he was taking off his eye patch. He gathered his long hair in his hands and wrung out any excess water. Then he put the eye patch back in place and turned to you again.

Still not speaking, he sat down against the wall, facing the fire. You didn't know what to do, the roar of the storm still loud outside preventing you from leaving, but the awkwardness of being practically naked with Aemond in this abandoned cabin also didn't let you relax.

You should have stayed one more day in Riverrun.

"Sit down before you freeze in that position, niece." Aemond grunted, leaning his head against the wall and closing his violet eye. "Come here by my side and warm up." His words could have been interpreted as concern for you if he hadn't said it so bored. But he was right, you would really end up freezing like that. With your arms still covering your breasts, you moved closer until you crouched down and sat next to him, keeping a safe distance of course.

You stood there in total silence for a long time, long enough for you to feel your hair starting to dry. He still has his eyes closed - maybe even sleeping - and you're staring at the flames slowly consuming the pieces of wood. You had the urge to go see Merax many times during this period, but you held back. He was a full-grown dragon, he knew his way around much better than you.

Hearing the creaking of wood between the flames you glanced sideways at your unwanted companion, watching the adam's apple rise and fall slowly as he swallowed once, his hair a bit disheveled now as it began to dry without the aid of a brush, his arms supported on both bent knees. Oh, the defined muscles of his arms, firm forearms with prominent veins.

You really needed to go.

Unbeknownst to you, Aemond would also stare at you when you weren't paying attention, watching the way you hugged your knees to your chest, the way you rested your head on them as you stared into the flames. Your half-dry hair rebels around your face, your eyes reflecting the fire's flames, your smooth skin flushed...

There was a tension between the two of you, and that tension increased with every second you were trapped in this cabin.

You turned your head again to look at him, but this time you found him with his eye open, already looking at you. The shock of seeing his violet eye glowing with the firelight was so great that you sighed and couldn't take your eyes off it.

"What were you doing in the Riverlands?" He asked slowly, not taking his eye off yours.

You knew this moment would come. Two rivals trapped under the same roof without trying to get information from each other? It was impossible to remain like this for long.

"You know very well what I went to do, uncle." You said lifting your chin in defiance.

"Hmm." He said still very calm, looking you up and down, making you feel uneasy. "I was planning to pay a visit to the Riverlands myself soon." His voice sounded superb, as if he knew he had more to offer than you. It irritated you.

"I find it difficult for Lord Tully to consider a better offer than marrying his eldest son to a Targaryen, his grandchildren will have dragons and his son will be King consort once I am Queen, as I am in the line of succession to the Iron Throne." You said it loud and clear, daring him to retort.

In fact you never boasted about being in the line of succession to the throne. You were, unfortunately, a year older than Jacaerys, being your mother's rightful heir and therefore next in line. But unlike your brother, you didn't want to be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. You never made a point of reminding anyone of that. But the pleasure of finally getting a thrill out of Aemond, seeing his pupil dilate at your words and his jaw tense, made it worth using your ace up your sleeve.

"Are you engaged to the Tully boy?" He repeated his words slowly, as if he was struggling to keep calm.

You didn't think that would be the part he would fixate on. The question of who would sit on the Iron Throne was the point you imagined your two discussion would focus on.

"First of all, he's not a boy. Lord Edward Tully is a man. And yes, I'm engaged to him. Not that it concerns you, dear uncle." You said the last part muttering, turning your attention to the flames of the bonfire.

"You're fighting to be the fucking Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and you intend to have a scum of Tully for a husband? Is that serious?!" He looked angry, his words carrying a weight that left you shivering and alert.

"What does it matter to you who will be my husband, Aemond?" You said standing up, which he responded by standing up too. His height intimidated you, but you would never let him see it. "This is war, in case you haven't noticed! We need allies. I know even you understand that, since your visit to Storm's End wasn't just to offer pompous words to Lord Borros, or to threaten my brother in a stupid pursuit, I suppose." In your rage you forgot the indecency of your clothes and dropped your hands in front of your body, only realizing it when Aemond lowered his heated gaze to your breasts.

You tried to cross your arms again, but he was faster. Aemond took you by the arm and shoved you hard into the wall, your head banging uncomfortably on the weathered wood. But you didn't have time to think about that because Aemond's tall, hot body was soon on top of yours, pinning you down. The heat of his bare chest against you, one of his hands resting on the wall beside your face, the other cupping your chin. His face coming too close to yours, too close.

You feared what he would do to you now. You were at a disadvantage here, your dagger still stuck in your pants, now drying away from you. Your recklessness in letting your guard down near the enemy could cost you dearly.

His chest pressed your body even closer to the wall, the two of you so close it would be hard for even a hair to get between you. His mouth went to your ear, his hand still gripping your jaw tightly.

"You're shaking so much, princess." He said slowly against the sensitive skin of your ear, the soft brush of his lips and hot breath sending an intense shiver through your body. You had no answer to his statement. "humm" he let out an amused growl against your neck as he dragged his nose along your skin. "You know, a princess like you deserves better than a shitty marriage to a miserable lord." He said before licking your neck, making you sigh and instinctively recoil at the unexpected sensation. This was so wrong.

"I don't understand… Why do you care so much about this? Why now?" Your fragile voice leaving your throat as you felt him leave a mark on your skin. Your hands went to his shoulders, feeling his skin tight and warm. Your intention was to push him away from you, but Aemond chose that moment to push a knee between your legs, which made you cling to him instead of pushing. He forced you to spread your legs to accommodate his between yours. Even though you had every reason in the world to refuse, you found yourself leaving.

"You've always been a fierce little thing, haven't you? Always speaking your mind and chasing what you want." He lifted his head from your neck to stare at you, even as his knee pressed against the sensitive spot between your legs, the damp fabric of his pants rubbing against your most intimate area. "But not with me. You've always treated me well, even defending me when I needed to." He caressed your nose with his, thumb circling your cheek. "I will not let any lord take what was always rightfully mine." The last words whispered into your mouth before he pulled your into his.

You knew this was wrong, he was a threat to you and your family. He was arrogant and stubborn. Your brother had almost died because of him. He thought you were nothing but a bastard.

You knew all this. And yet, you found yourself responding to the kiss.

Aemond's slightly chapped lips touched yours with purpose, after all he wasn't one for subtlety. His mouth devoured yours hungrily, forcing you to part your lips for air, and at that moment his tongue invaded your mouth. You stood on tiptoe to facilitate the kiss, one hand holding his neck and the other going to the back of his head, where you grabbed some of the damp hair and tugged. The hoarse groan he released into your mouth electrified you, left you hungry for more. You could barely breathe, the way he licked your mouth, encouraging your tongue to dance with his, making you dizzy with need.

Heavens, the frustrated experience of kissing the baker's son definitely didn't compare to this.

Aemond's big hands went under your shirt, gripping your waist and forcing your body to rub against his leg, nearly making you straddle his thigh. You pulled away from the kiss and slammed your head against the wood behind you, closing your eyes and moaning as you felt your clit brush hard against the rough fabric of his pants. Almost to the point of hurting, but it only served to turn you on even more.

You ran your hands over his chest, feeling the hardness of his muscles and watching him shiver as you dragged your nails across his abdomen. His forehead pressed against yours, his violet gaze never leaving yours as he breathed faster. Grinning mischievously you continued your hand down until you touched the big bulge inside his pants, closing your hand around it. Aemond growled into your lips as you gasped in surprise at the size of him.

He suddenly pushed his way between your bodies to unbutton his pants and pull his cock out, always looking at you. Grabbing your buttocks he pulled your body up until you wrapped your legs around him. You moaned loudly as you felt him drag his hard cock against your soaking pussy, up and down, dragging hot skin against your clit.

"I want to hear you moan my name, love. Say who's making you feel good." His voice was husky and slurred as he kissed your ear.

"A-Aemond..." You sighed, moaning each time you felt the hot head of his cock nudging your sensitive clit. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it over your head, leaving your breasts visible to him.

"Look at this love, and you want me to accept that this is going to belong to another man?" He growled and lowered his head to lick your nipple, holding it in his mouth and swirling his tongue. You tried to move your hips faster, but Aemond had an iron grip on you, forcing you to accept what he gave.

"Aemond, please more…more…" You begged, tugging at the root of his hair, trying to get him to look at you. He released your breasts and looked at you, his violet iris being almost entirely dark with need.

"Look at this, love, look at our bodies together, where they belong…" He whispered, forcing you to look at where his cock rose and fell against your intimacy. "Fuck baby, you're so wet. It must be fucking heaven inside you." He growled without taking his eyes from the junction of your bodies, just like you. The eroticism of the situation making you cringe in need around nothing.

"But I won't." He said and you felt euphoric, desperate to think he would deny you that. "I'm not going to take your virginity in a ramshackle tent, baby. No, I'm going to fuck you for the first time in a bed, damn, how the spoiled fucking princess you are deserves to be fucked." He continued to rub his cock into you, making you clench your legs in anticipation of the coming orgasm, your moans getting louder. Your arousal was such that his cock slid easily between your folds. "So be a good girl and come on my cock right here, now, love." He said continuously slamming his cock into your clit, sending you straight into a spiral of pleasure. Your needy moan sounded loud in the cabin as your body shook, your pussy contracting rhythmically with nothing inside, your hands gripping Aemond's hair tightly.

He laughed breathlessly, ecstatic to see your fall and allowing himself to fall too. Thick, white cords of come painted the skin of your belly, running down to your pussy as he moaned hoarsely. Aemond smeared as much of his seed as he could on your body, the knowledge that you were going to go home with his dry cum under your clothes driving him crazy.

Your legs were still shaking as he sat on the floor with you still on his lap, your mouths meeting in a wet, slow kiss. Your bodies now wet with sweat instead of rainwater.

You leaned your forehead against his, trying to control your ragged breathing. Aemond kissing the contours of her jaw and neck with a caress you'd never expect from him.

The whole experience had been surreal for you. The fact that you'd been trapped in an abandoned cabin with your uncle, argued, and that argument had led to the two of you committing such a blatant act of obscenity, horrified you now. But at the same time you were ecstatic to have done the craziest thing of your life. You were always a rule breaker, there was no denying it.

But the war between the family was still going on, you knew. This interaction between the two of you could go nowhere.

"What are you thinking, princess?" Aemond saw your expression change, he knew you were trapped in your own emotions. His big hand cupped your face and pulled your lips down for a gentle kiss.

"That doesn't change a thing, Aemond. I'm still going to marry Edward Tully, I hope you know that." You said, trying to convince not him but yourself too.

Aemond frowned, his expression suddenly dark. But he soon masked it with a sly, wicked smile.

"That's what we'll see, niece."

okay so... would gorou's ears twitch whenever he cums in you? well of course, i'm not talking about a slight twitch here... you know. i'm talking about a pair of extremely twitch ears with a flushed red face, he's almost crying from how good your cunt feels! he just can't shut his mouth... sigh... you're not sure if he's doing it on purpose or he's as oblivious as that but he always and always tells you how you make him feel good. "fuck-- oh, fuck. relax a little, you're sucking me in-- i can't move like this." and it drives you crazy because it's so nasty and embarassing and all of that. between the breathless words, gorou kisses you-- when he's rutting and fucking you so hard his kisses are sloppy and messy, salive drips down from his chin to your naked breasts. most of the time, just to tease you, gorou would let his sharp teeth leave a mark behind on yor body. he loves to bury his head on your chest, leaving open mouthed kisses all over to your burning skin before he goes crazy and bites and nibbles on your nipples... what a shameless boy he is! besides, he can't stop cumming when you touch his twitchy ears and tug on them. he likes it when your fingers run through his hair, nails scratching the behind of his ears before you give a harsh tug. he's crying! begging for you to do it again, his hips start to move carelessly and erratically, he's out of breath and just can't control himself. he cums so much that it hurts-- it hurts but he's addicted to this feeling because your velvety walls wrap his aching cock perfectly, and he just want to fill you up, wants to see you wear your panties back-- the idea of you walking around, literally acting as if nothing happened while you're pumped full of his cum makes gorou's cock rock-hard. he just loves to be your fucktoy <3 !!!!!! just use him, please, he'll do anything for you, he'll ruin you-- he'll let you ruin him. just say the word and he'll make sure to give it to you just as you want it.

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.

since y'all are tolerating my sex-doll!genshin bullshit,,, allow me to go on.

from what you've heard, Kaeya was a short-lived model from the Favious Line, barely promoted and quietly discontinued a few months after his initial release when his sly mannerisms and secretive nature proved unpopular with patrons of a collection widely known for its overly sweet, openly affectionate androids. most fans don't even know he exists, but you're a bit of a fanatic, so you do what you can to dig up retracted promotional material, listings from second-hand auctions, anything with a little more information on a model such a sentimental brand seems more than happy to forget. and of course, none of it does you any good, because of course, you only come face-to-face with your favorite local legend on a late walk down a dark alley, when you trip over the twisted leg of a Kaeya model some rich, wasteful asshole just left on the curb.

he's in a bad state - missing an eye, his clothes stained, his metallic endoskeleton visible in some places and completely exposed in others - but you don't care. it takes all night to get him back to your apartment, but it's a labor of love, and you couldn't be happier to finally bring him home.

you plan on repairing him before actually powering him up for the first time, but his wiring seems to be a little fried, and you find him wandering around your living room the morning after you bring him home, fully conscious and just a little less confused than he should be. it's for the best, in the long run - all models have a basic understanding of their own construction, and he's able to guide you through most of his more intensive repairs, even if the unflinching, unblinking expression he sports while you graft on new patches of faux-skin is a little unnerving. you can't replace his eye as easily, but he doesn't seem to mind the old eye-patch you found in the back of your closet, and he's genuinely grateful for what you've done so far, kissing your forehead and mumbling compliments and looking at you in a way that leaves your knees weak and your cheeks hot. that, or he's just doing it to get under your skin. he clearly likes having you at his mercy.

speaking off - his preferences might've gotten a little warped, too. you've done your research, tested out as many different models as you could possibly get your hands on, but you're not sure you've ever met another android as focused on his own pleasure as Kaeya, as happy to watch you choke on his cock as he hums and traces patterns into the back of your neck. he gives as much as he takes, sure, milks orgasms out of you with his tongue like a man starved, but sometimes, you can swear there's a special glint in his remaining eye when he has you on his lap, bouncing on his cock, or when you give him permission to use something aside from his body, to restrain you, to do anything that leaves you with just a little less control than he has. he never takes more than he gives, but still, you've never seen an android who's designed to take at all. besides Kaeya, of course.

you really do love him. he's good company, and he's great with guests, and you're so, so, so glad you brought him home. it's just, with the way he looks at you, with the tone he takes on as he coos praise every time you scrape up yet another lost piece of him - it seems like he might think you're the toy, sometimes, something that belongs to him, something he doesn't really have to listen to when it whines about overstimulation, or digs its nails into his back, or asks him not to wrap his hands around its neck so tightly, next time. he's made you say things, staved off your climax until you promised to never leave him, split you open on his fingers as you moan and babble about how he belongs to you and you belong to him and nothing's going to change that, but you're sure it's nothing, just a part of his backstory you haven't managed to uncover, yet. you're sure he's alright, even if you've been losing your phone, recently, even if your friends are starting to complain about how often your alarm doesn't seem to go off, or you can't find your car keys, or Kaeya pulls you away right before you're supposed to meet up with them.

you're sure he's alright, even if you don't really like the way he looks at you, anymore.

ii. to the enduring emperor: mercy, mercy. | yan zhongli x reader

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

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

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

word count: 3.5k

When Guizhong dies, your world tilts.

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

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

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

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

There is a limit to all.

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

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

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

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

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

Perhaps Guizhong took it with her when she died.

ꕥ

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

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

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

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

Keep reading

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.