Xiao's Mommy God (2)

Helping Albedo out with his research by day and at night he researches you under the covers. 😏 he uses that time to try different positions and different ways to drive you wild. He doesn’t understand why the pain of your nails scratching down his back is so pleasurable, he wants more. Albedo and his favorite assistant make many frequent trips up the mountain for this ‘research’

ya’ll horn knee for the alkemist

...

Well here’s more food

We know that albedo is mostly outside gathering some herbs or something for his alchemy or probably near somewhere to continue with his research.

So as his assistant, it’s a responsibility you always follow wherever he goes and assist him with anything. And what did you assist him with?

Of course, it’s sex. After he did that intimate act with you, he wants to “expand” his knowledge and further gather more reactions from you.

Oh how red your face was when he calmly calls your name and tells you to lift up your skirt. It was just a simple touching here and there. A finger tracing your panties, his hand slowly trailing to your shirt as he pushes you against the tree until your back is resting on it.

He hums and looks down to see your blouse unbuttoned that your bra was practically exposed to him. The pen between his fingers was nudged to the center of your chest and he used it as leverage to lift up your undergarments without laying a finger on you.

You shuddered at the cold air brushing your skin. Your nipples are turning hard both from the wind and at his focused stare. You bit your lower lip and looked elsewhere other than him, your fingers digging on the rough trunk of the tree to make yourself smaller from his lean body.

“What are you feeling right now, [Name]?” He calmly asked, bringing the pen to your nipples and toys with them. How in the world does he still remain calm from this?! Does he not get worried or anxious if someone happens to see you both here half-naked in the middle of the forest?!

“Cold, sir...” And yet you still answered him and helped him with this so-called research.

“Not hot and bothered at all?” He inquired once again and this time bringing the pen lower, trailing to your abdomen until to your clothed core, brushing the tip onto it that had your nerves shivering in delight.

“A... a bit...” you stammered and lifted your hand up to your lips to quiet your noises. Albedo’s face scrunched up when he saw you covering your face. He brought his gloved hands on top of yours and brought it down to your side.

“I never said to put your hand there, did I?” His voice was sharp and a bit darker than the calming and velvety voice you’ve grown to love. You shook your head and apologized to him sheepishly.

The alchemist sighed and put the pen back in his pocket before resting his hand on your bare shoulder.

“Turn around.” He ordered.

There’s no way you can’t go against him. He’s your supervisor and it’s unlikely of you, his trusted assistant, to disobey him. It only brought you excitement and made you even wetter than before at his demanding tone.

You’ve never seen him like this at all even in your previous sex with him. You mustered all the courage you have left in you to nod at him, desperately holding yourself back from grinding against him as he presses himself onto you.

—

“I think Mister Albedo should be here...” The female alchemist muttered to herself whilst looking at the piece of paper left by the Kreideprinz in the Favonius Headquarters.

The crunching of dry leaves filled her ears as she turned her head left and right to look for any signs of the familiar ash-blonde head. 

“Mhng~!” 

Her ears perked up at the muffled sound from the nearby tree. 

Did someone get hurt? Or maybe it’s you and Albedo doing the research. Sucrose hasn’t seen anyone wandering around here so it’s a possibility it could be either you or Albedo.

She seeks the source of the sound, gradually increasing in volume the more steps she takes and her whole face and body went aflame at the scandalous acts of the Chief Alchemist and his assistant. She quickly hid behind the tree and concealed her mouth with both hands.

“A-Albedo...! Hah... mng~!! Faster p-please!” You begged, tightly gripping on his arm as he held your body close to him while your other hand was resting on the bumpy trunk whilst he pounds in and out of you frantically.

“Faster, huh...?” 

You bit your lip harshly, almost grazing the skin to emit blood when he thrust his hips against yours hitting your sweet spot that weakened your knees. You can’t think clearly. The overwhelming pleasure is filling you up and you’re beginning to see stars the more he hits that one certain spot. You want him to go deeper, you want to listen to his moans of your name, you want his fingers to leave marks on your hips.

You’re tightly hugging his cock, you’re taking his size so well, and you wanted more of him. 

Faster,

Deeper,

More,

More

More...!

You moaned his name as you cum on his cock, and Albedo finds himself being pushed on the edge as well when you clamped your thighs together. With just a few more thrusts he can reach his climax as well. 

His eyes quickly darted to the side when he saw small movements and rustling from the bushes. His motions faltered a bit, slowing down his pace and loosening his grip on your hips. You whined at the lack of pleasure that filled you that slowly died down and ran out of your system. 

Looking over your shoulder to take a peek at him, his eyes were focused on the opposite side of the forest. Before you could even open your mouth to voice your concern, your eyes went dark all of a sudden. Warm and hot breathing was caressing against him and your throat bounced in turbulence as if Albedo had another plan on fucking you twice in a row.

“Focus on me,” His silky voice echoed in your ears as he proceeded on smacking his body with yours once again.

He’s very much aware his other assistance noticed them. But did that stop him from fucking you and making you cum again? 

No.

Poor Sucrose immediately dashed out from the forest in fear if the Chief Alchemist caught her red-handed from peeping and disturbing his study.

I have a habit that I learned from my mother where if anyone’s lounging next to me with their bare legs, I’ll instinctually start massaging it.

Of course, it only happens with my friends and family. If I ever did it to a stranger I would die @.@

Anyways, acolytes’ reaction xD

Hey hey! I chose a few characters I personally liked to write about, but feel free to send in another ask if I missed the characters you wanted! I also changed the prompt here and there; it’s basically ‘’an unexpected massage’’, hope it’s still alright :)

Note: not proofread, wanted to post it tho

It had been a while since you first arrived on Teyvat. Everything is a lot more peaceful and you're able to enjoy your days with relatively little stress. 

One of the only chores you needed to do included paperwork. You have an office of your own where you do most of your work, usually with the help of some acolytes. Generally, you'd be at your desk, but today was a couch day. So as one does, you plopped down and patted the seat next to you

Venti is constantly testing how far you'd let him go. He'd hug you, attempt to cuddle up to you, he even tried to sneak in a kiss! So when he'd lounge himself onto the couch it's no surprise that he'd move his legs into your lap. Venti thought you were too occupied with your 'stupid paperwork', so he assumed something like this would bring your attention back to him. He'd be surprised when you'd continue to read the paperwork while your free hand starts to gently massage his leg. His shock passes quickly, and suddenly he doesn’t seem to hate the paperwork as much as before. When you notice that his constant nagging stopped, you look up; Venti isn't usually silent. When he throws a cheeky smile your way, you realise the situation you brought yourself in and get flustered real quick. 'Don't worry your Grace! I'll return the favor any time, ehe!'

Zhongli has no trouble helping you. He liked spending his time with you and felt happy whenever he could aid you in these tasks. His voice was a bonus for you as well, and you always listen carefully when he points out the important parts on the papers. His figure is close to yours and you’d been leaning closer to get a good look at the papers in his hand. Unknowingly to you, you had grasped his free hand in yours and had started to gently massage it. Believe me, he didn’t want you to stop but it was hard to point out things on the paper without a hand. He'd bring the situation to your attention and would give a deep chuckle when he'd see you get flustered. After he further explained the paperwork, he decided to massage your shoulders instead. Perhaps some closer contact would help your focus? 'Do you wish to remove my gloves, Your Grace?'

You were in Mondstadt for the upcoming weeks and decided to visit Diluc at the Dawn Winery. There had been enough time for you to visit the city and other places, but the endless workload still chased you. After procrastinating for a good while, you decided that Diluc could be your motivator! If he’s working, you might feel obligated to work as well! At least, that was the idea. At one point during your stay in his office you invited him to sit on the couch with you. Unfortunately, from that moment forward it’s Diluc that’s unable to work. The moment you moved closer to his figure,- his brain stopped working. He could feel his leg touching yours, -and why did you have to place your hand on his leg to massage him? He was certain you could hear his heartbeat. Are you doing this on purpose? It’s only when you remove your hand after finishing your paperwork that he regains the ability to think. ‘Hey Diluc, you’re not procrastinating right?’ You tease him. He huffs in response and returns his focus on his work, hopefully then you wouldn’t see his face. ‘I’d never.’

remote working ! (twothau w/ gn!reader)

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾ YOU HAVE RECEIVED A LETTER, LET’S SEE WHAT’S INSIDE! ☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

salutations. remote working (requested by anon)

addressed. diluc, kaeya, tartaglia, zhongli, thoma, xiao, scaramouche, and arataki itto

content. mentions of covid-19, fluff/no-angst, mild swearing, wholesomeness, modern!au, yakuza!au, this fic is based on the way of the househusband

sypnosis. how househusbands are like with you remote working (work at home) during the pandemic.

penpals. @scaraslover @saving-for-xiao @dawgimsohot @kazu-topia @chiruru @aqualesha @renamichii

links. the way of the househusband au | teyvat's penpal service | requests info

post-script. shoutout to my bestie irl who helped me out with her big brain on xiao, kaeya, and scaramouche's parts <<3

DOESN’T GO TO YOUR OFFICE — diluc

when you first told DILUC that you'll start working at home from now on, he was relieved. ever since the announcement of a certain virus that's been infecting everyone like wildfire, the man could only worry about your safety – especially since your workplace has so much people – so now that you're officially working at home, he can now rest peacefully.

as someone who respects privacy and silence, diluc makes sure to not be noisy outside, including not vacuuming in front of your office and wouldn't put the volume on the tv to the max (im sorry but hes honestly the type to make his tv loud just to have a bg noise), which you appreciate a lot. though you wonder if he forgot the fact that your office is sound-proof.

he also doesn't want to go to your office, mainly because he doesn't want to be seen by your nosy colleagues and because he simply doesn't want to disturb your meetings with his presence. it's like the tables have been turned around the both of you since back then, you're the one who didn't want to interrupt with his work.

sometimes when he feels like it, diluc would send you a text message and ask if you'd like him to bring a drink or snack to your office. if you said yes, expect yourself to hear a few knocks one second after you sent your message. turns out, he was actually supposed to come in to your office unannounced with your drink and snacks but decided to text you first because of his conscience bothering him. it'll take months before he'll actually start visiting your office without having to text you that's a lie, he'll never do it.

LOVES YOUR BOSS MOMENTS — childe, kaeya

the moment you informed CHILDE that you’ll be working at home, he was honestly curious to see how you work. are you the type to scold many of your coworkers in a scary manner? are you the fun and chill type that made your coworkers love you? ah, so many questions !!

eventually his curiosity was lifted when he overheard you while he was cleaning outside your office, causing him to stop cleaning for a moment to hear what you're saying to your colleagues, listening to you destroying your coworker for something they’re trying to bring you down from.

it only increased his love for you because wow, who knew you would be such a boss at your job? don’t get him wrong, he very much knows how great you are — it just astounds him since you’re so closed off about your work ! childe could only smile from just imagining how scared his old subordinates would be if you were a part of his organization.

expect him to try and convince you to start telling many of your work stories — doesn’t matter if they’re all embarrassing in your eyes — as long as you tell him the ones where you prove yourself that you’re a boss (as you should !!)

KAEYA would be happy that you no longer have to go out to your crowded workplace and risk your health anymore when you told him. he feels even more unease when it comes to your safety since there’s been a virus that’s been causing so much trouble for everyone, so now that you’ll stay home until it’s considered safe to go out, kaeya can live happily.

unlike childe, kaeya only gets to see your angry side when your coworkers didn’t do their job and would think wow, you're so cute when you're angry as if he hasn't seen you being mad at him at all. he doesn’t even have to go near your office to hear your angry voice because he can simply hear it from where he is (given that unlike diluc’s, your office isn't sound-proof).

during those times when you're mad, kaeya will make sure to help you calm down after the meeting. he'll either stop by your office to give you a snack and drink or cuddle with you until your next meeting starts. if you're into sweet-talk, then kaeya's the right person for you, expect him to start telling you sweet-nothings in your ear and do everything he can to make you smile or make your cheeks feel warmer than a stove.

as much as kaeya adores your boss moments, he doesn't like how you're too busy with your work because of your piled up works to do. whenever you sometimes overwork yourself from the amount of work you've been given, your lover will make sure to make you take breaks every now and then by dragging you out from your office and spend time with him even if it takes a few minutes. you may be cute but not when you're stressed and overworked >:00 !!

VISITS YOUR OFFICE TO GIVE YOU FOOD — thoma, zhongli

when THOMA finds out that you'll start doing your work at home, he beams. mainly because you don't have to get out from your home and risk your health and definitely not because he misses you a lot.

he would often find himself at the kitchen daily even more than before, trying out snack recipes that he thinks you’d like as taroumaru watches from afar, eating his dog treat happily as always. if he deems the said snack worthy, then thoma will immediately take it away to your office and give it to you with taroumaru following.

however, unlike the rest of the househusbands besides diluc and scaramouche, thoma wouldn't be seen by your colleagues since he makes sure that he's not seen in your screen – whether it'd be going behind your laptop and place the food beside your things, or stay a few steps away from you and just give you a thumbs up before rushing off outside to not disturb you anymore.

whenever you're done with your meetings, you always have your favorite choice of drink waiting outside with your lover and dog watching a movie or resting while waiting for you to finish. expect him to try and help you clean up your desk so that you can have a tidy spot for once.

sweet-sweet ZHONGLI, who smiles so wide when he realizes that he won’t have to feel lonely anymore because of the fact that you’ll be staying home without going out to work. expect him to take you to your workplace to get your things and will help you start rearranging your office to make it more comfortable and suitable for your online meetings.

sweet-sweet zhongli, who makes sure to be quiet whenever he’s outside of your office and always prepares snacks for you. it’s scary how he always knows when you’re craving for something to eat, something that he excuse it as a coincidence and chuckles about it. he likes to think that it’s an instinct of his to know when you’re starving and/or know what you want.

sweet-sweet zhongli, who always makes sure to knock on your door before entering with foods that’ll surely make your mouth water at the aroma alone. at this point, it’s normal for your colleagues to see his lower body coming to view in your screen and putting down the tray that has your meal. they actually find it endearing and a bit jealous.

sweet zhongli, who listens to what you did for work as he massages your shoulders happily after your tiring meetings, adding a few comments here and there so that you’ll know that he’s listening to your rants. he's that good of a househusband <<3

SOMETIMES IN THE BACKGROUND — itto, xiao

ITTO felt excited when you said you'll start working at home, thinking that you meant that you’re willing to help him with the farm – only to find out that you meant you're actually still working in your career but at home, much to his sadness. nevertheless though, he was still happy because hey, at least you're now staying with him 24/7 :DD !!

like diluc, itto wouldn't dare to enter your office during your meetings in fear of disturbing you as well. despite that though, your colleagues know him already because of your choice of.. background.

you see, your office has a window that shows the beautiful view of the farm and field, something that you thought would look great as your background since the window is behind you and is visibly seen to your colleagues. what you don't think about is the fact that your husband could be seen by your many colleagues – leading many occasions where they can see itto talking with his farm- animals and/or getting chased by chickens and hens.

it only took you a long time before you realized that itto can be seen thanks to one of your friends who pointed it out, causing you to feel your cheeks warming when you realized your mistake. how could you face your lover knowing that almost all of your colleagues have seen the things he did outside?!

XIAO felt like the gods have smiled upon him when he found out about the new changes in your work. he’s been anxiously waiting for the announcement of what will happen to your and your company, so now that it's official that you'll be staying at home, he won't have to worry about anything regarding you catching the virus.

now, unlike most househusbands, your office is an open-door room that leads to the kitchen and dining area, causing xiao to be often seen by your colleagues doing random things. whether it'd be cleaning up some items in the background, walking by but accidentally tripped, cooking a meal, or even eat almond tofu nearby, not knowing that he can be seen. you didn't bother telling him since you assumed he knew.

sometimes, you'd feel like a boomer. especially during the first month of remote working since you had never used zoom or any online meeting apps, so you often come up to xiao when it comes to encountering technical difficulties. thankfully, xiao's been with zhongli for a long time to know how to fix your problems and/or answer your questions. he's basically a technician to you now.

NOISY AS FU— — scaramouche

“so? i’m still your alarm either way.” is SCARAMOUCHE’s response when you first told him that you’ll start working at home. in reality, he was lowkey relieved since he didn't want you to risk yourself to go to work.

just like diluc, scaramouche respects boundaries and silence, so he makes sure to not interrupt any of your meetings. he'll only enter if he wants to let you know that he'll be going out to buy some groceries or if he brings you a drink after you texted him.

now, despite not being able to enter your office, he's often... loud outside without realizing it.

it's not that he's intentionally loud to disturb you – no, no – he just gets a bit clumsy whenever he cleans. whenever scaramouche cleans, he sometimes gets too deep in his thoughts that he doesn't pay attention to his surroundings besides the one he's cleaning in, leaving him accidentally stumping his toe on one of the table legs and speak in colorful language, much to your embarrassment and shock when you’re in your office hearing it. thankfully it only happens when you're not talking (so far, at least).

besides that, on occasions when you're taking a "short" break while waiting for your next meeting, scaramouche will make sure to keep an eye on the time to let you know when you need to go back in case you ended up procrastinating. if you ever say “just a few minutes”, you can say goodbye to your sweet bed because your husband will literally drag you away towards your office. it's honestly scary how strong he is 🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️

scaramouche + "i love you so much, i could look at you for hours and not get bored."

note: yandere

"Is that the excuse you've created to explain your incessant staring?"

He looks down on you, because of course he does--you're sitting at his feet, practically reverent, gazing up at him with a look that twists between expected adoration and something... softer, sweeter, and far less easy for him to grasp.

It's maddening, as you are maddening.

"It's the truth," you say, and this time--bold minx that you are, though you pretend to be everything but--you dare to rest your chin against his thigh. Like a puppy, or an acolyte, placing your head in your better's lap.

Is that not one way to view your situation?

He refuses to give in to what is clearly a ploy for more of his attention. An invitation for his hands to grip your chin and lift it, catching your gaze. A clear desire for him to rub his thumb on your lips and consider pulling you up to press his own against them.

He refuses, for now, because that would be putting the game in your court. And if he does, there's always the chance (however slim, he thinks, seeing the way you stare at him) that you'll let him go in the end.

And that? That is the one thing he cannot abide, and so, here, now, like this--he'll be the one who stays in control.

When he does nothing more than return to the task at hand, reading important missives scattered out on his desk, you pout, huffing out a little sigh with puffed cheeks. Your eyes slide to the floor, dejected and pathetic.

"I didn't tell you to look away," he says, nonchalant, at least in his own mind.

He feels the slightest bit of warmth in his cheeks when he senses that you've turned your gaze back up at him. If he glances down, will he see a glimpse of that something sweet, that something soft? That something that he can't seem to hold in his fingers, something without real solid weight despite the heaviness it creates in his chest?

Maddening. You really are maddening.

Title: Clear As Porcelain.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.4k.

TW: Kidnapping, Mentions of Death/Injury, and Slight Dehumanization.

You heard Scaramouche’s laugh before you ever saw his face.

It might've been more like a cackle, actually – the noise so uneven and so cracked, you mistook it for the screeching of a wild animal, assumed a frightened boar or a very distressed bird had wandered into your storefront and would find its way out again, after it calmed down. You only thought to look up from the ceramic figurine you were painting (a commissioned piece of the Shogun in all of her awe-inspiring, ethereal grace) when you heard the door to your workshop crash open and hit the opposing wall with enough force to shake the contents of a shelf hanging nearby. He was standing there, disheveled, grinning, his clothes soaked and his eyes wild, and he was mumbling – to himself, at first, and then loudly, his voice spiking as his tone dipped into something sharp and erratic. “That bitch, she could’ve—She tried to take my fucking arm off. I’ll fucking kill her. I’ll choke her to death with her own fucking tail—”

“Sir,” You cut him off, turning to face him. His hair was partially seared, too, despite the fact that he looked like he’d just crawled out of the ocean. Faintly, you could smell traces of smoke and ozone, but you were more preoccupied by the puddle he was going to leave on your floor than whatever mess he'd clearly gotten himself into before barging into your shop. “We’ve already closed for the night. If you want to place an order, you can—”

“Shut the fuck up.” He was already limping forward, already shoving armloads of supplies and half-finished projects out of his way as he pulled himself onto your worktable. He stopped at the figurine, his grin faltering for a fraction of a second, but that was on the floor too soon enough. You heard something crack, but your attention was pulled away before you could evaluate the damage, back to Scaramouche, now lying on the wooden tabletop, pulling his tattering sleeve up to his shoulder. “Fix it. I don’t care how. I’ll pay you when you’re done, just make sure it looks like the rest.”

You opened your mouth, but closed it again just as quickly. The injury was on his bicep, if you could really call it an injury at all. It was more like… shattered porcelain, what should’ve been torn, bloodied skin replaced with ragged cracks and chipped paint. Some portions were missing entirely, giving way to black void. There was no blood, or muscle, or fat. There was nothing, save for the interior shell of his arm on the other side.

He was as hollow as a doll.

Huh.

You reached over him, to the other side of your table, grabbing the container of resin he’d nearly overturned. The hardener was already in your pocket, and you could mix your paint later on, while the plaster dried. You had a feeling he wouldn’t think to question it, if you took your time. “Please, try to hold still. I’ll be gentle.”

He didn’t. Honestly, you doubted he’d even heard you, too preoccupied with his own manic, meaningless rambling. You were able to convince him to lay down, to let you work on his bicep without having to worry that you’d leave him stuck to your table with a thin layer of white cement. You were able to lay the resin, and as you sanded down the excess, his ranting came back into earshot, his words once again beginning to form coherent thoughts, more or less. “She tried to kill me.I don't know why. She’d already killed, I don’t fucking know—” He brought up his free hand, gesturing vaguely. “—all of my men. I don’t know what she wants. What could she even do to me that her and her fucking girlfriend haven’t already done?”

The rest of his arm was porcelain, too. Disguised porcelain, sure, clearly meant to mimic flesh and bone, but you recognized good craftsmanship, the little methods and techniques employed to trick the eye and present dead clay as something else, something with more life inside of it. You wondered, briefly, if it was a prosthetic, but it would’ve had to start somewhere closer to his collarbone than his shoulder, and you could see his fingers twitching as you smoothed over rough mortar, as you did your best to make the patch indistinguishable from what you could see of his undamaged skin. If you could call it ‘skin’.

Suddenly, Scaramouche fell silent. After a moment, you realized he wanted a response. You hesitated, but forced yourself to say something, if only so you could focus on the task at-hand. “Does this kind of thing happen often?”

“She’s always wanted me dead.” You pushed your chair back. You’d been painting when he came in, but what little you’d had on your palette had long-since dried and cracked, and the rest of your supplies were in a cabinet hung on the far wall. You could feel his eyes boring into you as you searched for what you’d need. When you glanced over your shoulder, he didn’t bother trying to look away. “I don’t know what she has against me. I’ve never done anything to her, or that tyrant.”

“Some people just choose to be cruel, like that. There isn’t always a reason for it.”

His voice was quieter, now, slower. He let his head roll back, his attention falling to the ceiling. “People say I’m cruel.”

“You don't seem very cruel to me.”

He didn’t answer. By the time you found your way back to him, his eyes were closed, and he didn’t wake up until long after the sun rose the next morning.

~

A week after he left, a man in a uniform came to your door and announced that he’d been ordered to escort you to the estate of his master, the Balladeer, Honorable Lord Scaramouche. When you asked why you were being summoned, he told you to bring your tools, and you asked no other questions.

He received you in his parlor, a large room made just a little smaller by the painted screens that lined every wall, made just a little more oppressive by the fact that it was empty of all but you, Scaramouche, a low chabudai, and the tea tray that sat on top of it. You sat across from him, tucking your legs underneath you and keeping your tool kit at your side. No sooner than you'd settled into place, Scaramouche nodded, and the soldier took his leave, bowing and closing the door behind him.

He started, predictably. There was no greeting, but you hadn’t expected one, not really. Not from him. “I trust you've realized that our last transaction will have to stay between us.” Formal words, made to cut precisely and leave no room for error or argument, so unlike his manic rambling from the week before. It didn’t suit him, as a costume of fine lace and silk wouldn’t suit a child’s mangled toy. “It would be… inconvenient, for me and the organization I represent, if the Shogunate was forced to waste their time and look into our actions. I’m sure an investigation would be an issue for your business, as well, and make it difficult for us to reimburse you for the services you’ve already provided.” He paused, leaning onto the chabudai. “Wouldn't you agree?”

You didn’t hesitate, this time. “A client asked me to repair something very important to him. I don’t see why the Shogunate has to know anything else.”

There were no visible signs of approval, no hum or nod of his head. He closed his eyes, instead, and brought a hand up to the collar of his nagagi, toying with the fabric as he spoke. “And if this client asked you to make another repair, would you accept the job with the same discretion?”

A few minutes later, Scaramouche's nagagi was pooled around his waist and you were kneeling behind him, mixing your plaster as you looked over the array of lesions scattered across his back. They weren’t scars, exactly, and you didn’t want to call them open wounds. If anything, they were more similar to scrapes, deep scratches in his porcelain that darkened and cracked at the edges, forming a sprawling web of hairline fractures. It was a wonder he was still in one piece, honestly. It seemed like a strong gust of wind would be enough to shatter him.

It was a momentary impulse, as fleeting as it was self-serving, but before you could swallow it down, you ran your hand over his back, tracing over a cut that ran parallel to his spine. He tensed, glanced towards you, and you offered an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I’ve just never seen something so…”

“Bizarre?” The suggestion was accompanied by a bark of laughter, a wild grin. “You nation has dancing tanuki and wandering spirits. You can’t tell me that I’m the only oddity you’ve ever run into.”

“Well-crafted,” You mumbled, already distracted. He was more awake than he had been last time you’d worked on him, more aware, and he shuddered as you spread the plaster over the uppermost lesion, curling into himself before he could correct his posture. “Oh, does that hurt?”

That wasn’t really what you meant, but Scaramouche didn’t give you a chance to correct yourself. “It’d hurt more to let my body cave in on itself, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I could use a different technique.” If the rest of his body was like his arm, he probably didn’t have a rib cage, or shoulder-blades, or anything you had to be wary of or avoid. Still, you tried to work around what might affect his mobility, and when it came time to cut away the excess, you worked quickly, unsure if he could feel what hadn’t already set. “Or, we could bring in a healer. They couldn’t use pyro or hydro, but—”

“That’s not an option.” He didn’t even give you a chance to finish, straightening his back and squaring his shoulders – nearly causing you to chip away a piece of his side, in the process. “This is going to stay between us. No one else has to know. It would be—” He cut himself off with an airy sigh, as shallow as it was exhausted. “I don’t need my subordinates spreading rumors about my ball-joints. You’re not to breathe a word of this to anyone, from the Shogunate or otherwise.”

You were quiet, for a moment.

Then, you leaned against him, resting one hand on the dip of his shoulder while the other fell to the small of his back, your fingertips pushing absentminded patterns into his cool skin. “For such an important client?”

He grit his teeth as you started, but didn’t make a sound.

“Consider it our secret.”

~

Six months and a dozen appointments later, you woke up on a bed, in the cabin of a ship, your wrists bound behind your back and a bruise beginning to form on your cheek from where his soldier had struck you before driving a needle into the side of your neck.

He was sitting on the edge of the mattress, gaze cast downward. When you began to stir, he , a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he looked over your bound form. If there was any part of him you didn’t care for, it would’ve had to be his eyes. They lacked something, a certain light that should’ve been there if he’d been made of something else, if he’d been just a little more alive. You doubted you could’ve done any better, but that didn’t mean you had to praise his lifeless stare.

“It was a new recruit. I’ll have his fingers broken when we dock – or if he’s foolish enough to show his face to me before then, the next time I see him.” For a second, you wondered what he was talking about, but his hand came up, cupping your injured cheek, and your confusion was quickly replaced with hollow irritation, traces of dampened panic. “I didn’t tell him not to hit you, but archons, you’d think one of these imbeciles would be able to think for themselves. If anyone on this ship so much as looks at you, tell me. The last thing I need to deal with is idiots as disobedient as they are stupid.”

“I don’t—” You tried to sit up, only to fall back onto your side immediately. Your vision blurred, spun, and your body felt weak, as if your blood had been drained from your veins and replaced with solid lead. He laughed as you clenched your eyes shut and shrunk into yourself, as you tried to get the world around you to stop moving, if only for long enough to let you catch your breath. “Scaramouche, I—”

“Kunikuzushi.” A slightly tightened grip, his thumb tracing over your cheekbone in a gesture that you could nearly call tender. “Say it for me.”

“Kunikuzushi…” Your voice was quiet, weak. You felt weak. You probably looked weak, too, but he didn’t seem to care. “Wha—What’s going on? I can’t—”  

He was grinning, now, the expression eager and unabashed. “It’s nothing you’ll have to worry about. Her Excellency has called me back to Snezhnaya, and I thought it would be wise to keep my dollmaker in the same country as myself.” A blade was produced from his belt, or a nearby dresser, or some other forsaken place, and the rope circled around your wrist was cut with no great amount of thought or ceremony. You were dragged into his lap with just as little ease, your head soon resting on his thighs and his fingers soon skirting over your neck, your shoulder. His hands were so cold, as if he’d never known an ounce of warmth in his life. As if he’d never bothered to make himself into anything more than damp clay. “I’ve already taken care of your store. You can thank me later on, when we go over what could and what couldn’t be salvaged from the fire.”

You took a long moment to remember how to use your tongue, how to speak with any confidence. Even after that, it still came out so quietly, you had to question if he heard you at all. “And if I don’t want to go with you?”

A light chuckle, in response, the noise wistful and idle and awful. “You will,” He said, the promise as hollow as he was.

“Soon enough, you'll only ever want to be by my side.”

a hybrid’s instincts

◇ characters ◇ zhongli, gorou, tighnari, (bonus) platonic!diona

◇ tags ◇ pregnancy, afab!reader, dragon!zhongli

◇ a/n ◇ what's that? will i ever stop pushing the dragon!zhongli agenda? hahahahahahahhahahhaha hhahaha ha ha- no.

𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

oh? what's this? it seems like your pregnancy triggered something in these men. their more… "animal side", perhaps?

ever since baizhu’s confirmation - actually, even weeks before that - zhongli has been very reluctant to let you wander out of the house. or even out of his sight, in general (which is quite strange since with his enhanced dragon senses you know he’s able to locate you within the house with no problems at all).

at night, you sometimes wake up to him in his dragon form. sometimes it’s his compact form nuzzling and he's purring near your stomach, sometimes it’s his half-dragon form where he’ll place his head beside your stomach with his tail curling around you protectively. it doesn’t matter whether you’re already showing or not; your heartbeat and the little hatchling’s brings him a sense of comfort that he needs, lest he becomes restless.

his nesting behavior is out of control. he’ll bring you all the pillows and blankets, surround you with the nicest smelling flowers, make you always wear his shirt, and he’ll bring anything you want to the bed so you don’t have to leave the nest. the further you are into your pregnancy, the more reluctant he is to leave you alone. he ends up taking that paternal leave hu tao has been telling him to get. bless her.

gorou is just as excited as he’s alerted. kokomi will have to force her best general to take a temporary leave from the army throughout your pregnancy because he’s so jumpy and sensitive to literally everything and his behavior is making all of the soldiers anxious.

gorou insists that you take a walk with him every day; just something light around the block to keep you from feeling lethargic. he’s also developed a habit to sniff everything that will touch your hand. yes, that includes your supposedly harmless change of clothes. it’s not ridiculous in his opinion! it’s a necessary precaution!!

will snarl when a stranger approaches you and tries to touch you in any way, even if it’s just a friendly gesture. he would be so embarrassed and apologetic about it afterward, but only once you’re at the safe haven of your house.

are you a forest ranger? an adventurer? does your profession require you to venture into the wilderness? welp, say goodbye to your job for the time being, because there is no way in any cycles of samsara tighnari would let you go into the dangers outside while you’re carrying his pups.

walking arm-in-arm whenever you're out and about is a must these days. whenever a villager congratulates you, you can sense his hold tightening despite the polite smile on his lips. if it was up to his instinct, he wouldn’t have let you get out of the house, but rationally he knows you need to move around and breathe in the fresh air.

though you still won’t be exempt from your beloved’s sassiness (”you want me to get you coffee…? do you think i’m an idiot?”) as long as what you ask for doesn’t harm you, he’s at your every beck and calls now, no question asked. you’re craving for collei’s specialized pita pockets? he’ll learn the damn recipe from collei herself and serve it on your favorite plate the next day. you want to be carried everywhere? good thing he’s got the physique fitting for the head of the forest rangers. you want ten kisses a day? say no more; he’ll give you thirty.

[bonus - platonic]

at first, diona seems super indifferent about it, only reacting with a ‘hmph… congrats, i guess’, but her actions speak louder than words. you know how cats tend to hover around pregnant women and even lay themselves near their bulging bellies? that's right.

no, you will not be having alcohol. no, your spouse will not be having alcohol. no, all the people within five hundred meters radius from you will not be having any single drop of alcohol. she won't allow those boozehounds to get close to you.

she’s so amazed at how your stomach keeps growing bigger every time you visit her. when you give her your permission, she’ll curiously poke and stare at your bump. her hand will gently pat your tummy as she unconsciously smiles. she starts to seek you out more often after that, telling you that she’s just there in case you need help, but you know she’s just worried about you. she would be such a good big sister to your baby!

© zhongrin | 2022 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

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you can't tell me that venti doesn't LOVE putting his hands all over the object of his affection. he blames you, really - how can he not touch you when your body is so soft? his fingers look so pretty when they sink into your flesh to squeeze it with reverence, his cheeks flushing at the thought of how his fingers would look dug into either side of your hips.

[ he's relentless from the moment he first lays eyes on you. he sings you a tune, makes you smile, places his hand over yours as you're sat in the night air... and when he offers to walk you home, he'll make an excuse to lay against your arm, letting his eyes drift to your chest. he's tipsy, and you're so soft... he's already addicted.

days later, and it's like the bard is practically attached to your side. ]

venti is shameless about his desire for you in public. he'll squeeze your ass when you bend over, giggling when you whine that someone might see you. when he's tipsy, it's even worse - he'll mouth open kisses against your neck whilst his hands roam your chest, sighing about how soft you are.

(you were haunted by the sound of diluc awkwardly clearing his throat and suggesting venti had one too many when the bard had nearly mounted you after hugging you from behind one evening.)

you know that barbatos doesn't answer every prayer, but you do wonder what it means when your prayers are answered by a breeze that feels a little too deliberate in the way it dances across your skin.

it reminds you of how venti runs his fingers across your body. how curious.

Genshin [All male characters] When you ask “What would you do if I disappeared?”

Notes: Feeding everyone.

Characters: Aether, Albedo, Bennett, Chongyun, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Itto, Kaeya, Kazuha, Razor, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Venti, Xiao, Xingqiu, Zhongli, fem!reader

Warnings: not proofread, hints of death, implications of dying, mentions of death, bit of crack, bit of angst, bit of fluff, bit of everything

Personal Favourites in this work: Venti, Diluc, Albedo, Xiao

Aether

His sister is already missing. What do you think he would feel if you ask something like that?

The fear in him is real. It seems endless, all this looking around for his sister. Adding you going missing into the mix, it was like torture. Like an endless spiral down into an endless hole.

“Aether? It’s just a hypothetical question, you don’t have to think about it too mu–” you were really just blurting out thoughts and nonsense.

He pulls you in for a hug, one arm tight around your waist and the other behind your head. “Please don’t” he whispers. “I don’t have anything else,”

He’ll become a shell of himself if you disappear. He’d look for you, but he’ll shed tears every night. 

Keep reading

companion to an almost-god (scaramouche | wanderer)

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

(HUGE Sumeru 3.2 spoilers)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is that thing?!” He sneers.

You hold it up and let it speak.

“Name is Aragaru. This is purple Nara?”

“Purple?!” Scaramouche balks.

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

“What is it talking about?!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallows.

The hand around your wrist squeezes a little.

"Are you coming back?"

Oh.

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

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

He huffs, but listens to you.

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

"We're going outside?"

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

You wink.

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

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

"Keep telling yourself that."

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

"Shut up!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Pfft– that's so bad."

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

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

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

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

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.