#psyche.dabbles

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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."

#yandere ayato x reader #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #psyche.writes #psyche.answers #anonymous asks #psyche.dabbles

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pls pls pls write for capitano your writing's so exquisite i feel like you'd do him so much justice

content warning: slightly not sfw implications / yandere / forced relationship / power imbalance. reader discretion is advised.

oh, your compliment's making me cry haha, thank you so much! as for capitano, his english voice is soooooo good 😭 normally i prefer the cn vas instead (like for zhongli or xiao or ningguang) but. too good.

it's gonna be a little hard to flesh out a character based on one voiceline, though for the harbingers, worth. i was planning to write an actual fic for this, but right now i just need to brainrot a little about this: il capitano with a darling that's quite arrogant, despite you being just a commoner with no standing or power.

you're an artist that's well known in snezhnaya for your aloofness and pride, because you're damn good at your craft and you know it. you have suitors, many of them in fact, but none of them satisfy you. then comes this man, who asks you, "what are you looking for in a husband?"

you give him your stipulations, impossibly high standards, he comes back with them fulfilled, each and every time. then one day, he comes back, revealing himself to be a harbinger, and that's the day your fate is sealed and entwined with his forever—and by that, i mean you, forcing a smile on your face as you accept his proposal.

i like the thought of capitano being perfectly satisfied with how willful you are. what did it matter to him if his spouse wanted to have everything their way? he's indulgent like that (or perhaps just that he couldn't be bothered to care about the opinions of others, especially when your thoughts are so much more important). so when you demand for impossibly lavish/impossible things even after your marriage (mostly to spite him), he gives it to you without a word of complaint. you swallow down your pride at how he doesn't even attempt to argue with you, as if he viewed your demands as nothing more than the amusing chirp of a bird that didn't know it was trapped.

because even if he gives into your demands, that doesn't mean it comes free. he's aloof, but not physically. you've come to learn his body, the way his bare skin feels against yours, how a husband loves in almost-bruising touches, unaware or uncaring of how much you shiver. even though he would normally be attentive to your whines and complaints, he doesn't when it comes to the bedroom matters, because this is how a husband is meant to love.

capitano doesn't care about those weaker than him, but you have that spark he likes, the fire that keeps him warm in the cold winters of snezhnaya.

(it's only too bad he doesn't realize that he's dousing that very same spark with his foreboding touch, until nothing remains of your spirit except you, weary and worn down.)

#yandere capitano #yandere capitano x reader #capitano x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere fatui #yandere harbingers #yandere x reader #yandere #psyche.dabbles #psyche.writes #concepts #i'll come back to this when i'm lucid and not just feral thirsting #psyche.answers #anonymous asks

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Arlecchino and Pantalone fighting over some one is just 😳🫢

yes, exactly!! the tension would be absolutely delicious, especially since we've seen in the trailer arlecchino already showing some degree toward business men. she'd so, so irritated at the idea of sharing the time and attention of you with someone whose life's work revolves around money and the like—not only are these types of people bad news, they're so below your notice that it insults her to see you direct your notice to people like pantalone. they'll dirty your eyes, she always scoffs, the red cross of her eyes intensifying in disgust.

pantalone for his part, enjoys keeping you close, both in amusement at how it irritates arlecchino, and at how obedient you are to his demands—despite the aura of dread/fear he can feel from you every time arlecchino shoots daggers at pantalone because he's letting his finger trail down your arm, all the while he speaks casually in a low murmur about how he requires an assistant at the workplace. he doesn't mind sharing, truly. and it's always so entertaining how fast arlecchino flashes to your side, how her fingers dig a little too tight around your hips as she steers you away, muttering about heartless businessmen playing with their food, how when you're not looking, a knife will fly through the air and get caught between pantalone's fingers an inch before it sinks into neck.

but you feel the breeze of that knife. hear the whizz as it slices through the air. and you press yourself closer to arlecchino, murmuring about how you're cold, hoping to even her temper, vowing internally to avoid pantalone in the future. because everyone knows that one harbinger is bad news, but two? that's just asking for disaster.

#yandere pantalone #yandere pantalone x reader #pantalone x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x reader #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere harbingers #psyche.dabbles #psyche.writes #anonymous asks

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jade-encased | yan ningguang x reader

ningguang doesn't think much of your protests at all. is she not merely giving you the life you deserve? all those pesky matters, food and shelter and survival—they're long past her concerns now, so they should also be long past yours.

ningguang isn't frugal, but she isn't ostentatious either. but when it comes to you, she's willing to drape you in the finest silk, the most expensive jewels—always beautiful, never to the point of distaste, but always too heavy, too impractical.

and when you complain, tell her, "I'd like to wear my old clothes, ningguang, there's no need for all these lavish gifts," she gently touches your jaw and sighs. shakes her head tells you that it's alright, you don't have to reminisce or be afraid. you've left that life behind. you'll never have to worry about finding your next meal, shivering in the cold in a shelter that's too creaky to be sturdy.

to ningguang, mora is nice. mora is to be treasured. but it's also meant to be invested, and you're more than all the mora and wealth that ningguang has. so she'll hide you away in the safety of her jade chamber, attended to by only the most trusted in her employ. and anything you could ever want—food, dance, entertainment—she has it carried all the way up the skies of teyvat, spread out for your liking on the courtyard of the jade chamber.

ningguang will lead you by the hand, whenever she bundles you up in the cold winter air to take you outside for a breather. her fingers will rest on your shoulder, nail pricking your neck, an invisible leash at your throat as you both look down at the city. she'll tell you that this will all be hers one day, with that familiar glint in her eyes. she'll say the shadow of the jade chamber will cover all of skies above liyue and beyond, and that whatever becomes hers will be yours too.

she doesn't say that whatever is yours is hers too. she doesn't need to. the glint in her eyes is familiar for a reason. she always has it whenever she looks at you. a lidded gaze, calculating and careful and just shy of covetous, luxuriating in your presence like glaze lily in joyful song. basking in the satisfaction of knowing you will always be here, right next to her, the most lovely of all trophies in her possession.

#yandere genshin #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere ningguang x reader #yandere ningguang #psyche.writes #psyche.dabbles #concepts #yandere imagines #ningguang x reader

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How about Zhongli and Xiao with an immortal (or whatever would be the equivalent of an adeptus in Snezhnaya.) traditional unicorn that serves the Tsarista/Cryo Archon.

Mostly because of this quote from the Last Unicorn:

"I can never regret. I can feel sorrow, but it's not the same thing."

a diamond heart (is not unbreakable) |

yan!zhongli x reader (x xiao)

content warnings: yandere themes, slight references to drugs (but not in the not-sfw way lol). reader discretion is advised.

word count: 1.0k

notes: this prompt really interesting! i will say i was quite stumped on this one because i have no idea what the last unicorn is—bless our wikipedia overlord—but the film premise looks interesting! I just went with whatever came to mind at the quote to be honest, so hopefully it’s up to standard/ xiao seems quite harmless here, not really yandere like i intended at first, but well. sometimes the words write themselves instead. (also this is extremely late, so apologies:'))

“Rex Lapis has welcomed you with open arms,” Xiao hisses, the grip on your arm taut and just shy of dangerous, force strong enough to splinter human bones, “and you return hospitality with daggers and lies?”

His voice is more desperate than threatening, as though he were on the verge of cracking instead. You smile woodenly, not a trace of pain in the expression. “I had my orders from my Tsaritsa. I did what I had to do,” you repeat. The famed adeptal realm is more dim than you thought, you think vaguely, staring up at its artificial skies. Sunny blue, to be sure, but your senses tell you it is mere illusion—a prison, crafted by Rex Lapis after your betrayal.

“Don’t look away!” The gloved hand of your prison guard reaches out for your chin, forces your eyes on him. How fragile the gold in his eyes seem, sparks of frustration tangled with longing. “Why?” he demands. “Why did you try to kill Rex Lapis?”

“It was my mission,” you repeat softly. “Nothing more and nothing less, Xiao. Tell me, if it were between me and Rex Lapis, who would you choose?”

As expected, there is no answer. 

“You see?” you say gently. 

Xiao grits his teeth and flings your arm away from him, as if the contact of skin burned, even through his glove. “Fine,” he mutters. “Have it your way. Stay here forever then.”

His face becomes stony—like Rex Lapis’, when your hand plunged into his heart, searching for that precious, precious gnosis. Perhaps Xiao and Morax were not as different as you initially thought.

What was Zhongli thinking, you muse as you stare at Xiao’s tense shoulders, using such a lost little prison guard. So fragile, you felt the slightest sorrow at his mission—it must torment Xiao, to know that your heart had never moved an inch, despite your times together. The Tsaritsa crafted you from the coldest ice in Snezhnaya, after all. A touch of your horn freezes everything in its path.

You look at your arm dispassionately, wringing it to check for fractures. The lack of such breaks, despite Xiao’s uncontrolled strength, confirms your words: you were never built to melt. To crack, despite what Xiao wants of you—and Zhongli, too.

Zhongli visits you on the third day of your imprisonment. You sit alone, waiting. Xiao flitted away when the earth rumbled, already alerted to the presence of his sovereign. 

He brings a jug of traditionally brewed wine. Sets it on the granite table in front of you, crisp clink as stone meets clay. The scent of osmanthus flowers drifts lazily in the air when he lifts up the lid. 

You regard him with a cool gaze. 

The corner of his eyes lift, a byproduct of the wry smile on his lips. “You’ve stopped pretending,” Zhongli says. “This honest look—it suits you better. Xiao thinks differently, of course, but he is more naive than I, unfortunately.”

“Have you always known?” You settle your palms in your lap, as still as ice.

Zhongli twists his hand—and from thin air comes goblets, vessels used long ago by the archons. The Tsaritsa kept one such cup in her vault, you know. A souvenir from Archon summits long ago. “I had my suspicions,” he admits while pouring the wine into the goblet. It’s effortlessly graceful, the smooth flow of liquid. Zhongli never did anything by half measures. He places the filled goblet in front of you.

“Yet you let me get close enough anyway,” you say quietly, taking a small sip. Floral osmanthus blooms on your tongue, but it’s too sweet. More fruit than osmanthus, you find. How ironic, the mask this wine wears in its scent. “Close enough to thrust my hand through your chest. I didn’t know the blood of the Archons were crimson too. How mortal of you.”

“Gods bleed too,” Zhongli murmurs, eyes half-lidded as he stares at you. Takes a delicate sip, and says, “They feel too, despite what the legends say.”

You think of your Cryo Archon, her too-big heart, wounded and bleeding in her chest. Love kills, she’s taught you. Love hurts. Maybe that’s why she made you, so you could remain unfeeling in her place. “You’re right,” you say. “I’ve forgotten.”

“And when you tried to kill me, did you remember this?” The grip around his wine vessel tightens. 

You don’t flinch. “No.” 

Zhongli laughs humorlessly. “Of course. I am the fool for expecting any less.”

“Will you keep me here forever?” you ask evenly. 

“Not forever,” he says. “Only until…”

“Until I return your affections?”

Zhongli stills. Soft orange irises harden into cor lapis. “I am foolish,” he says, “but not quite that foolish.”

Still, there’s a glimmer of something behind the hardness of his eyes. Want? Anticipation?  Ah, you think, closing your eyes from unexpected fatigue. They feel heavy. The master is as foolish as his disciple. “What did you lace this with?” you finally whisper. It’s a small betrayal compared to yours. Besides, you can’t hurt anyway—not anywhere important, at any rate. 

Zhongli smiles again. “Nothing harmful, I promise.”

“I only have loyalty toward my Tsaritsa,” you say, words melding together from how leaden your tongue feels. There’s a burning sensation in your chest, uncomfortable for you to clutch at it, and oh dear, what is this heat at the corner of your eyes?  

“No matter what,” you gasp, some liquid leaking from your eyes that you don’t understand. It hurts. “I.. I won’t falter. That was how she made me, Zhongli.”

Before the world blacks out, Zhongli’s expressionless face is the last thing you see. His words are the last thing you hear too: “We will see who lasts longer against time, dear heart—yours or mine.”

#yandere zhongli x reader #yandere genshin impact #xiao x reader #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #psyche.answers #psyche.writes #anonymous asks #psyche.dabbles #psyche.ficathon #sorry it's so late ;-;

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Hi, this is my first time requesting even though I really want to say to you that the Xiao fic you wrote entitled Lament was so good that I am biting my tounge while reading to prevent me from (s)creaming because it was such a chef's kiss.

May I ask if you plan to write a yandere Kazuha? I just really love him. A praise-deprived Kazu which his desire enhances whenever his darling (reader) praises him with no idea of what effect she does.

I just thought that if he's a yandere it would fit if he's a bit younger like 2 or 3 years as the reader would treat him as her younger brother and have known each other as kids which that the reader dotes on him.

Praises him on little things like starting a fire or getting her a sweet fruit in the middle of the forest as we could see Kazu's eyes turning in the shape of heart and she has no idea of what effect she has on him. :)

thank you so much for reading that fic! I still feel somewhat unsure of that fic sometimes, so this comment really helped ease my fears :)

content warning: female reader, stalking tendencies, yandere behaviour—read the tin. you get what you come for, after all.

Late getting around to this since I've just returned from a hiatus, but yes, yes, a thousand times yes. Love the idea of an older darling that’s very much the big sister type. I imagined a bit differently, with darling being the member of Beidou’s ship who has a big family that she’s had to leave behind to follow Beidou. 

And your heart is always so soft for pitiful things, especially since seeing such a lonely, sad young man like Kazuha when Captain Beidou first introduces him to the rest of the Crux members. He doesn’t speak, eyes always downcast whenever you approach him and ask him if he’s well, whether he’s comfortable, what you can do to ease his journey on the ship. Nothing, but he glances away when you approach. 

Well, no matter. You’re one of Captain Beidou’s, and you’re made of sterner stuff. You stop asking questions, even as the rest of your crewmates keep questioning him. What you do is take care of him, coming and going with water, warm soup, little snacks you’ve managed to haggle from the stingy chef on the Alcor. He accepts your offers without a word, only a nod in thanks, the red of his eyes soft, and it warms your heart to see the young man getting more lively in the way he’s moving about the ship. 

He starts opening up a lot more, telling you and Beidou of imminent storms, predicting weather as though he were the Raiden Shogun herself manipulating the storms. The flurry of compliments makes him turn away from you in embarrassment as he would give his thanks. You delight in the sound of his voice, taking to keep him next you and under your wings, determined to have him close. It’s been a long time since you've been really able to take care of anyone like this, and you relish in the opportunity.

The day that he reveals his name is the day you take it upon yourself to use it as often as you can. Kazuha, you’d say, let me do this for you. Tell me about this. And when you ask him whether you could change the bandage on his hand for him, Kazuha looks at you from under his lashes and nods. The lad’s been through so much, you could tell, from the worn calluses on the pads of his fingers and the angry red burn at the centre of his palm. The wound has healed long ago, but there must be a reason he still wears it, so you take the most attentive care in wrapping it.

And as you both travel to and fro, according to whatever whims Captain Beidou feels like following, Kazuha sticks close to you. You praise him as you would your younger siblings at home, a note of compliment never far whenever he does anything of note, whether it be raising the sails, telling the weather, reciting poetry, practicing his sword. You’re not a fighter, being the supplies manager and quartermaster to Juza, but you knew a little here and there. Whenever you’d cross blades with Kazuha, he’d never go easy on you, saying something about there’s honour in giving one’s all against a worthy opponent. You always laugh and ruffle his hair, gushing about how he’s so strong. He always smiles, crimson eyes sparkling as he soaks in your words, a little hum as you bump shoulders with him. Thank you, he tells you, and his answer is airy, as though he were struggling to breathe.

It’s great, having such a mild-mannered young man to fuss over. Nothing like your own rowdy siblings at home who whine at the slightest hint of you ruffling their hair or scolding them about finishing their foods. Kazuha is so considerate too, always leaving you the best cut of the fish that he finds or the most perfect of all the apples he gathers whenever the Alcor docks close to the forests of Mondstadt. Nowadays, whenever you show the slightest discomfort, Kazuha’s always the one speaking up for you, suggesting for you to take a break. 

It’s perfect, having Kazuha as a friend. There’s just one thing… Just one small oddity. He follows you a little too closely. Listens a little too carefully. Whenever you go run your errands, to restock the supplies, to ask for repairmen, Kazuha—even though he’s been assigned his own duties—always appears a few minutes later, breezily saying that he’s done his own tasks and came to see if you were having troubles. Left or right you look, Kazuha is always there. He always finds you.

It gets a little too much, even with your casual nature of always being so warm and inviting. And when you bring it up to Kazuha, a question of, “Maybe we should meet up later, Kazuha? I’m sure you’d like to spend some time by yourself.”

Kazuha shakes his head. “No need,” he says calmly, crimson eyes a little too bright against the sunlight. “I like being close to you.”

You swallow. Not that you didn’t enjoy it, but it was frazzling your nerves, his eyes ever-present in your peripheral, never moving an inch from you. Not even your own siblings had ever been this clingy in their younger days. “Boys your age…” you trail off. “Don’t they prefer to be alone? I’m sure you don’t want me to ruin your fun.”

“Why would you say that?” Kazuha tilts his head, inspecting the way you furrow your brows. He places his fingers over yours, bandages ghosting over your skin. Raises your hand and presses a kiss to the back, the touch of his lips sending up warning shivers. Kazuha says softly, “I’m only worried about you. That’s why I’m here. Is that a problem…?”

“No, no,” you hurry to say, afraid of hurting his feelings, squeezing his hands tight and forcing a smile on your face. Kazuha smiles back, and for a second, the world seems alright, the breeze gentle and soft against your neck. 

But you still couldn’t shake off that feeling, as though the autumn wind had arrived a season earlier than anticipated, its airy blade ready to trim all the green leaves from a summering tree.

#yandere kazuha #yandere kazuha x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact imagines #kazuha x reader #fem!reader #genshin impact x reader #psyche.dabbles #psyche.writes

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I've personally fallen hard for Arlecchino so maybe her and I also like Capitano and Pantalone so if you ever felt like writing for them I'm definitely for it

content warning: yandere / possessive behaviour / unhealthy relationship / etc etc, reader discretion is advised.

arlecchino is just everything, my god how can i be so down bad over a woman on the same level of raiden shogun. especially the "so why don't you keep your mouth shut!" left me in shivers. as with capitano, have no idea about characterization aside from the short dialogue we saw, so hoping this doesn't age too poorly.

just a concept for now, but i might come back for a full fic because she deserves it (as she does everything else in this world. (also can you imagine pantalone and arlecchino fighting over someone... another idea to be explored later, perhaps?)

arlecchino is kind to those who she wants to be kind to. toward those she finds distasteful or beneath her notice, her tongue is knife sharp, capable to sending even the bravest of men cowering. but around you, she's soft. soft in a way that she doesn't even show to the children under her care. only the most caring of touches, devotion clear in her eyes, so much so that to outsiders, they'd never fathom that she was one of the harbingers at all.

but it's when your gaze turns to others—any other than her—that arlecchino's titles rings true. she's poisonous against anyone else that dares to hold your attention. the knave, they call her, always aiming her cold and harsh glare behind you back, her red irises becoming knives when any of the fatui even glances at you. if she had her way, she'd keep you warm in her hearth forever, but you, her dearest darling, can’t just stay by yourself. where would you be if she wasn’t next to you, constantly keeping you from harm’s way?

arlecchino wraps herself around you like a fur coat in snezhnaya: tight and needed. careful questions of whether you were in need of anything, what do you want, darling? who looked at you wrong? who has wronged you? why is your face so sullen? tell me, she always says. tell me and i will rectify the matter, i swear it. her expression, all the while is a haunting want, a longing cut so deep you wondered sometimes if she was bleeding beneath her coat every time she looked at you. wondered if she was drowning, the ruby crosses of her eyes gleaming so bright they looked like freshly-spilt blood, her voice always as if she can't get enough of the air you breathe.

arlecchino isn't loyal to anything, you see. even the tsaritsa herself is just a goal for arlecchino, to be abandoned at the drop of a coin. but you, she'd never leave. not even if you wanted her to.

#yandere arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x reader #yandere arlecchino #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere fatui #yandere harbingers #yandere x reader #yandere #psyche.dabbles #psyche.writes #concepts #i'll come back to this when i'm lucid and not just feral thirsting #psyche.answers #anonymous asks

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a little concept with yandere scaramouche x f. reader. specifically female reader because I find the idea of a woman blacksmith interesting. a drabble series, perhaps.

he first finds you in the forge. it's midday, the hottest time, when the sun is burning against the cobblestone just outside of the forgiving shadows of your family's storefront, and you're shaping the hot-orange metal in your hand according to your father's instructions.

the stranger, with his short purple locks and expressionless face, glances at the sign. senju forge, he reads. his eyes flicker to you, sharp and knowing. you look away, embarrassed to have been caught staring.

your father nods. tells you to keep hammering, the sparks from hot embered metal flickering uselessly against air with every strike of your hammer. you half listen to their conversation, half focused on the task at hand, trying to ignore the glint of his violet eyes stay pressed on the back of your neck, the heat of a blade made from lightning.

but then, your father's voice raises. get out, you hear him say sternly. out! I know what you are, wanderer.

you stop hammering. look up. your father's face is dread multiplied, the creases of his mouth sunken lines, blood drained and ghastly afraid.

you risk another glance at the stranger. his lips are curled, sour displeasure as he replies, it will be on your head then, what happens next.

leave! your father booms. you are not welcome here, clan destroyer.

clan destroyer? the stranger raises an eyebrow. sneers. interesting name. but perhaps too unambitious to be appropriate. a clan is too small for my plans, senju. but you're right. clan destroyer is not wrong.

you breathe in, sharp, as his eyes once again falls on you. the hammer from your hand drops, a noisy clunk that echoes against the metal. in the sunlight, his skin is made paper white, blinding enough to cut.

have something to say? he says mockingly. or will you only look?

...your true name then, sir? you choke out.

kunikuzushi, the stranger says as he turns. remember it well, girl. you'll come to know it well too, I promise.

the syllables settle onto your skin, honed and whetted. his name feels a dagger against your throat. dangerous. and that vow...

you would not realize just how sincere it was. not until you've already been stolen away.

#yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere genshin imagines #scaramouche x reader #psyche.dabbles #psyche.writes #concepts

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okay random thought but: spy x family setting (spy/assassin couple), but with childe being a malewife who cooks and tidies and cleans—but it's also made him extremely good at scrubbing out blood.

because while he tries his best to keep his clothes clean on the days that he has to carry out certain assassinations, sometimes things get a little... messy.

(spy darling who doesn't realize that your husband has been the one making you missions smoother, so that you can come home quicker and spend more time with him instead.)

#psyche.dabbles #concept #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe

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Who do you feel is most likely to non con their darling?

Content warning: not-sfw, smut, rape/noncon, dubcon, yandere behaviour, drugging (Albedo), sexual violence (blame Childe), blackmail, (threats of) torture, conditioning (Scaramouche), bdsm themes, somnophilia, manipulation. Reader discretion is highly advised. (If I’ve missed something in the content warning, please let me know!)

Noncon: albedo, childe, scaramouche, xiao, venti. As a bonus, dubcon/not noncon: zhongli, ningguang, diluc, shenhe, dainsleif

Answer: All of them. Hmm, it would depend on what kind of noncon we’re talking about. There’s A) “they don’t initially consent, but I’ll drug/manipulate/threaten them into agreeing so technically it’s consensual”—which of course is still noncon (more than dubcon definitely) or B) “they could be literally crying while having sex, but who cares? not me, that's for sure.”

For the former, ohhhh boy, my list is long long long. Albedo, Scaramouche, Kaeya, Ningguang, Xiao, just to name a few. For the latter, the only one I can think of is Childe (maybe Venti, if he’s in a particularly mood of madness). Kaeya also, because he's a sick bastard who's also very versatile. Since anon didn’t list anybody, I just went with what ideas I had. May use these concepts for later. (Also, I inferred what darling meant from this ask. If that’s the wrong interpretation, feel free to point out my idiocy.)

Albedo.

The aphrodisiac user. He’s got it all planned to minutia. He’s prepared for weeks, gathering information about you. Height, weight, heartbeat rate, diet, metabolism, everything—so that he can calculate the dosage for maximum efficiency. That way, if (when) you refuse his touch, there’s always the backup plan. So when you push his hand away, wave off his words, he doesn’t really mind.

Instead, as you’re conveniently trapped inside of his laboratory with him, the snowstorm raging outside preventing your escape, he just stands there. He doesn’t tell you that the meal he served you before your (quite hurtful, if not unexpected) rejection is laced with an aphrodisiac. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t approach.

Albedo just… waits. Watches with his crystal teal eyes, as you begin to shudder and writhe. Listens as your thighs begin to subtly rub together in search of frictions, whines start escaping your lips.

You’ll ask him what he did to you, choking on the words, but he says nothing. Eventually, your body feels so hot you actually stumble outside into the snowstorm in hopes of cooling off, and still he waits. But of course, you come back. Reddened cheeks and ashamed. The cold only makes the heat inside of you burn brighter.

With your skin so oversensitive and raw, just a touch—one touch only, you tell yourself—feels as if it would be enough to sate the lust. So finally, his patience pays off. You beg him to touch you. Pleads for him through clenched teeth, in the smallest of voices, hating yourself for every word that comes out of your mouth.

But his only response: “No.”

He refuses you.

(When you’re crazed with lust, when you would act rather than speak, when it hurts so much that you’ll pounce on him rather than asking for permission… that’s when he knows he has you exactly where he planned—mindless in need, your hate all but erased in your urgency for him to fuck you.

So if you don’t want him, he’ll wait instead. Wait until you want him—until you need him.)

.

.

.

Childe.

A sadist. Well, that would technically be incorrect.

It’s not so much that he gets off on seeing you scream and cry when he fucks into you, though he won’t lie and say he doesn’t enjoy the sight. No, what he lives for is the thrill of battle—sex included. So of course, he enjoys the protest. The struggle. The desperation.

Childe pins you down, brutally thrusts in you with his cock, and just as he likes it, your nails are clawing at his skin for all the life that you’ve got. The scratches you make add to the landscape of scars scattered on his body, and he wears it like a badge of honour. Proudly, as if it were a war trophy. To Childe, it’s the definitive proof of the battle between you. It’s an undeniable proof of your coupling. The slices of pain from your nails, the scent of blood—it excites him like you can’t imagine. Causes him to utter a curse in Snezhnayan, as his hands grip your shoulders so tight it borders pain.

Every movement he makes is designed to bring about your unwilling pleasure; Childe fucks like he fights—with finesse and precision. From his teeth worrying your nipples to his cock grinding into that vulnerable spot inside you, it’s all deliberate. It’s a bit of an exercise for him, to see how long before you stop pushing him away and your sobs to slide into moans. How long it takes for him to fuck the fight out of you.

In the end, you’re left dazed beneath him, . No more protesting, no more crying, just acceptance. Little hiccups of pleasure escapes your throat when he makes a particularly rough jerk of his hips, wanting to reach as deep inside you as he can. He’ll swallow your moans too, in kisses that are less loving and more consuming.

He’ll taunt you to get a rise from you again when he gets bored with your lifelessness. Croons about how you submitted so quickly. As if you were just putting on a show, an obligatory protest rather than your true wish.

And when the spark flares back into your eyes, even as you’re shuddering in an orgasm that he’s ripped out of you—when you whisper that you hate him—that’s when he comes. A groan, as his cock twitches and fills you with his essence.

Afterwards, Childe collapses on you and transforms into a tender and soft lover—as if he didn’t just violate all that you have. All that you are. Kisses away the tears at the corner of your eyes, but you shed even more silent tears. Presses his lips to your forehead in apologies instead, murmuring that he’ll be more careful next time. You know that he loves you, right?

But all the while, he’s thinking. Planning.

Maybe next time, he’ll give you a dagger. Just to make the fight that much more exciting.

.

.

.

Scaramouche.

A sadist, but different from Childe. You’d think Scaramouche would take particular joy in seeing you in tears when you have sex, but no. Only in specific circumstances. He doesn’t like you fighting him. He likes being wanted. (The need to be desired is from his leftover trauma of being abandoned for supposedly not being good enough, though he’d never reveal it. Probably isn’t even conscious of it, in fact.)

There’s the aphrodisiac route, but it’s not as if he’s desperate. He’s a divine being and you? You’re nobody. While he’s not above using underhanded means, in this case, it would be admitting that he desires you—which he does not.

Instead, Scaramouche uses threats. Little sparks of lightning that jolts your body should you behave in a way that’s unsuitable to his taste, until you begin to fear him more than hate him. Whispers about your loved ones, so innocent, so naïve, it’d be oh-so-unfortunate' if something were to happen to them. So you learn to give into his demands, however unreasonable they may be. It’s easier than living in a constant state of heightened anxiety, after all. It’s like training a dog, he’ll sneer.

Through this, Scaramouche molds you into what he wants. Deferent and pliable. Eventually, you’ll more than agree to his touch. You’ll begfor it. Scaramouche will agree, with the greatest reluctance. An owner needs to make sure the needs of their possessions are met, unfortunately. It’s not his fault you’re so needy.

And if (when) he does fuck you, it’ll be at his control. For his pleasure. He doesn’t care about you orgasming or anything quite so ridiculous. In fact, he’d be delighted to just leave you at the edge, in need of his cock. You’re just here to be used. His mouth is absolutely filthy too, all sorts of degrading terms, calling you his little whore, slut, toy. You’ll frantically nod your head. Sobs in agreement, half out of fear, half out of pleasure—but mostly fear, because he’s going too fast for you to properly enjoy it. (That’ll change, he promises. You’ll come to like the pain eventually.)

After a while, people around you start looking at you with this pitiful look, whispering about the absolute broken look in Scaramouche’s—what? What are you to him? A servant? A slave? A pet?

But whatever terms people use at the end of the day doesn’t matter. As long as one thing is clear—that you’re his.

—bonus—

Some shorter noncon scenarios.

Xiao: Somnophilia. The only way Xiao could even approach you is while you’re asleep, simply because he is a massive Virgin (TM). He’ll be too embarrassed to approach and ask you for sex, but he’s got urges that need to be filled. Also, the guilt over his karmic debt tainting you with his touch means that he’d prefer it if you never knew about his… misdemeanour. So, like all his battles through the millennia, Xiao stays in the shadows, readying himself to strike when you fall unconscious.

Venti.

If he's feeling particularly unforgiving, he’s quite sadistic. Likes seeing you cry, actually. Will hum a song, even, as he fucks you. And laughs. Also goes for the somnophilia route, but for a different reason than Xiao—it’s about the control. It’s knowing that your unconscious body is at his whims—courtesy of his melodies. He could do whatever he wants to you, and you wouldn’t even remember. So when you wake up sore, complaining about that crick in your back, he’ll just giggle in response.

The wind is a trickster, and Venti is no different.

—bonus bonus—

Characters that do not noncon/go for dubcon.

Zhongli.

Usually, I’d say Zhongli is someone who waits for consent. Zhongli is patient; he knows that you’ll come around eventually. The difference between his patience and Albedo’s is that he needs you to consciously want him. Zhongli doesn’t care for the haziness that comes with an aphrodisiac—when he fucks you, he wants you lucid. He wants you to remember it. Every. Single. Detail.

(But he won’t deny you should you have an aphrodisiac problem; he’ll be more than happy to help, actually.)

Ningguang.

Manipulation, manipulation, manipulation. Whereas Zhongli waits until the time is right, Ningguang makes the time right. Think female Zhongli, but less patient. To Ningguang, mora is a trophy. While this particular investment doesn’t give out mora as its dividend, you are still a symbol of her victory. A deserved return on her investment, even more precious than mora.

Ningguang is similar to Scaramouche in that she will subtly force you into willingly going into her embrace, but through gaslighting instead. Ningguang isn’t Tianquan for nothing. She will isolate you until the only one you can seek out is her, the solution to all your problems.

You’re lonely? You feel touch-starved? No problem. You need only say one word: please.

And then… Well, a shrewd merchant knows how to press their advantage.

Diluc.

The amount of guilt will crush him, so no, he won’t do it. He can barely steal a kiss without feeling like he needs to kneel at your feet in repentance. Too much of a coward—but if you push him too much… Well, fire always did need a bit of kindling before it flickers into an inferno.

Shenhe.

Won’t force you, simply because she doesn’t even know what sex is. Living isolated in a mountain while training under an adeptus master doesn’t exactly entail biology lessons.

Once she finds out though… you’d best sleep with one eye open. Actually, best not to sleep at all, because she’ll probably whisk you away into some adeptal realm to learn just exactly what this mortal act entails.

Dainslief.

Even more of a coward than Diluc, when it comes to seeing you in pain. Soft. Very, very soft, even as a yandere. Definitely a service top, so no, your discomfort will put him off from forcing you. But make no mistake, even though he’ll attend to your every need with reverence, it’ll come at a cost: your freedom.

#genshin impact smut #yandere genshin impact #yandere albedo x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere xiao x reader #yandere venti x reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere ningguang x reader #yandere diluc x reader #yandere shenhe x reader #yandere dainsleif x reader #yandere x reader #concepts #not sfw #tw: noncon #psyche.answers #psyche.writes #psyche.dabbles #i am sleep deprived and booster shotted #written in a fever dream #covid booster shot stomping on my singular brain cell

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once evaded, twice locked. | yan genshin x reader

prompt: How would Childe, Albedo and Scaramouche react to a darling who escaped for a few months or years, then finding that they moved on?

content warnings: yandere themes, blackmail, a whole lot of implied murder (and actual murder). reader discretion is advised.

notes: for an anonymous ask. 2.3k

Childe.

Even before the door opens, you know. No one visits you in your small cabin in the middle of nowhere. You keep yourself too guarded to have revealed where you live. No, you go to others. Others do not come to you.

And the footsteps are too careful, too meticulous to be anyone else. It’s what you’ve been fearing for months and months—at first, an overwhelming emotion, but slowly dwindled down to a sliver that was easy to ignore if you chided yourself enough for being paranoid. Those days of suffocating under his thumb were supposed to be long gone.

But now, it is not your paranoia playing tricks on your mind. It is the truth: he is here.

You keep your back to the entrance, tidying up a bookshelf to keep your hands from shaking too hard if still. You know better than try to stop him from coming in. He’ll just kick his way in, as easy as breathing. So you stand with a straight spine, stiff and unyielding. A deep exhale from your lips as the door creaks open.

The sunlight filters in, casting his shadow on the wall in front of you. Darkness and death. A demon, come to drag you back to hell.

“How did you find me?” you murmur.

The shadow creeps closer, becoming larger and larger. Click of heels on the wooden floorboards—a deliberate sound. You do not turn. You do not lay your eyes on him.

But he comes. Like a reaper, he comes anyway.

“Oh, sweetling,” he sighs. Voice sorrowful, as if mourning for your innocence. “Did you really think you could hide away from me forever?”

As your fingers brush over the spine of the last book to placed on the shelf, of a fairy tale of a girl who loses herself in the woods, he circles his arms around your waist. Puts his head on your shoulder and says, “The better question is, did you miss me?”

You freeze. A stiff corpse in his embrace. The dull, heavy sensation of his heartbeat against your back sends chills up your spine. You think you are being suffocated, but air is still reaching your lungs fine. It’s just his breath mingling with yours that’s choking you to death.

He slowly, deliberately, wraps his hand over yours. Wiry fingers over yours, and like this, he helps you slot the book into place. Helps, you think. That is not the right word. Coerced is better.

“But I think I know the answer. You didn’t miss me at all,” he breathes into your ear, moist air caressing sensitive flesh. “What’s this I’ve been hearing about that little toy you’ve been playing with?”

Of course he would know about that matter too. You had thought, once you were free of the devil, you could finally live a normal life again. Could finally love again. So you did. Slowly untangling the darkness from you and learning to open your heart again—and it was a mistake.

“Childe.” The name expelled from your lips seem more a curse than anything else. An acknowledgement of his realness. “Don’t…”

“Hm?” he says, nuzzling into your throat. You can hear the little clatter of his mask, and it is a death rattle.

You swallow, and it hurts, the emotions you have to force down your throat. Cuts into flesh like one of his blades. “I’ll go with you.” You close your eyes and bite your tongue. Force the pleading words out. “Just don’t touch him,” you beg.

Silence, and you hold your breath, waiting, waiting. As if waiting for an execution. An innocent man doomed, all because of your selfish desire for intimacy. For another’s warmth. You never should have tried to get close to anyone.

“It seems you don’t understand the situation,” he says finally, voice low with warning. “You’re in no position to make demands. And I’m not feeling particularly forgiving today.”

“Don’t hurt him, Childe. please—"

“Fine. If that’s your wish,” he says, “you’ll get it.”

You finally exhale, body going limp against him in relief. But his next words bring you right back to the edge, heart thumping in fear.

“After all,” Childe whispers, “I can’t exactly hurt what’s already dead, can I?”

You close your eyes and resign yourself. You never should have tried to get away.

Albedo.

The funeral is a small affair. You husband—latehusband—was never an outgoing man. But what friendships he had counted, for each of the attendees had murmured genuine condolences and shed genuine tears. You feel less lonely at that, having people who knew. People who understood the ragged grief raging inside you, wrecking all your barriers into rubble.

You don’t cry. You had already shed it all when the news came to you, from the grim line of the doctor’s mouth. Instead, you grip the bouquet of flowers so tight it hurts, pure white petals quivering from the force of it all.

When you finally lay it at the tombstone, there are red marks from your nails digging into skin. Everyone has already left but you. You stay. Thumbs over the engraving, beloved husband, and breathe in the cold morning air. Your time with him had been cut too short by illness—only a year of courting between you, and only a month of marriage. And already, you are widowed.

While you were focused on the words, someone lays down a single flower next to you. A cecilia. “Thank you,” you murmur.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” is what you hear, except—

Cold. Monotone. Anything but sorry.

Suddenly, you can’t breathe.

“Al-Albedo?” you croak. When you turn your head to look, it is. It is him.

Teal eyes, crystal clear, no traces of emotion in them. And you know it’s him.

Because he always does this. Always. Kicks you down when you’re vulnerable. Hurts you when you’re raw. Comes right back when you’re grieving.

You changed everything about yourself, and still he has found you. You could never shake him off long enough. He always comes back. First, when you’d run away into the forests of Mondstadt, it had been two weeks before he tracked you down. Then, when you’d run away into the mountains, it had been two months instead.

So you change your plan. Instead of running, you’ll hide right under his nose. Disguise yourself so that he will never realize that it’s you, and blend into the commonfolk. Albedo’s never been interested in the ordinary—so that’s who you become.

And now, it has been a year and a month. But still, he has found you.

“I’ve let you have your excursion. It’s time,” he says calmly, “to go back.” Holds out a gloved hand, careless and cruel in his expectation.

You don’t take it. “All this time…” you whisper, horror sinking in your chest. “Did you know?”

His hand retreats. A slight nod. Eyes still so cold—like a gem. Lifeless.

“Why didn’t you come earlier then?” You grit your teeth. No. That was not what you wanted to ask. “If you were going to leave me alone, why come now? I don’t want to go back.”

Albedo tilts his head. It’s a startlingly familiar sight—and you hate yourself for thinking it. Even after a year, still you have not managed to throw all of him away.

“I had wanted to observe you,” he says bluntly. “And your potential, should I leave you to your own devices. Let us call it an experiment.”

“Is that all I am to you?” You draw yourself up, and stare at him square in the eyes. Unflinching. Unafraid. Grief as your armour, as your dagger. “Now that your results have been recorded, you’ll take me back.”

He nods—not even a second to consider the hate laced in your words. You hate him even more for it.

“So why now?” you ask desperately, almost to the point of tears. Tears you thought you were finished shedding. “Is it because my husband has died? Is it because I now have no one?”

And that question seems to confuse him, for he remains silent. Furrows his eyebrows, as if deep in thought. “I suppose,” he says slowly, “I was tired of this experiment. Your life was becoming more stagnant. You would be better off in my hand, I had thought, if this was what you wished for. So I saw fit to end it.”

Something dawns on you. The sudden change in your husband’s health—an illness at an unfortunate time, a mere coincidence. But now turned sinister at his words. “Saw fit to end it,” you repeat his words. “Saw fit… to end it?”

He nods at this too. “Now then,” he says, extending his hand. His eyes cold. Calculating. A lifeless gem, something not quite human. “Are you ready to come back?”

And it is not a question.

Scaramouche.

You had not expected him to find you so soon. A little fishing village in the middle of nowhere, known only to the families that inhabited it for generations and generations. Outsiders do not touch this place.

But of course, Lord Scaramouche defies all expectations.

“While you were with me,” Scaramouche hisses, sharp nails digging into the soft flesh of your arm, uncaring of his cruelty, “You wanted for nothing. I gave you everything you could ever need. Everything you could ever want. And this is how you repay me?”

I wanted none of it, you want to scream back. You gave me everything but what I wanted. But you can’t. He is already too angry, too far gone, to listen to the truth: you wanted everything but him.

And he cannot grant you that.

“I’m sorry, m’lord,” you mutter, and he only tightens his grip.

You wince, and he laughs, a dark bitterness. Like the void of night. “My lord,” he demands, eyes sharp. “You still remember how to address me properly, don’t you?”

Right. Your ‘peasant accent’. He hated how lowborn you were—hated how he wanted you despite it. You weren’t fit to be the mud on his shoes, let alone something he desired. So he dresses you in fineries, covers you in silk and gold and gems, drills etiquette and manner and grace. All to hide your true nature. But now, to see you in such a place, you must remind him again of your true roots. Of his own weakness.

“My lord,” you say, tongue-tied at the pain coursing through your arm. But finally, he loosens his hold of your forearm. Flings you away from him and watches as you stumble back, hands grasping at the nothingness of air, trying to find your balance in the chaos of him.

“Right,” Scaramouche says, glancing at you, and you school your face into something emotionless. Something doll-like. Anything less was to let him read you openly. “We’re leaving this…” his eyes flicker to the rickety houses surrounding you, to the people staring in fear. It seems no matter how far you flee, the Harbinger’s reputation will aways be one step ahead. “We’re leaving this hovel,” he spits out as his gaze lands on your little shanty house. “Right now.”

“Yes, my lord,” you reply hollowly. Already placing yourself by his side, ready to follow. As you did before you ran away.

You had rather liked the place, you mourn, as you look upon it. Built with your own hands. Smooth fingertips given way to calluses, delicate skin given way to sunburns, you saw it as proof of your efforts. Proof of your independence.

This will be the last time you see it. How fitting.

“To have exchanged wealth and comfort to become a fishmonger,” he mutters darkly, grabbing at your arm again—though less forcefully this time, as if he already knew your submission. You let him. Merely let out a weak whimper as he drags you away. “It displeases me to even lay eye on such a place. You had better make up for such a slight.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Do say something other than that, won’t you?” Scaramouche says, disgusted already at how empty you seemed. Well, to you, it was the only way to accept the reality of the situation. To cleanse yourself of wants and desires, to strip away all emotion—that is the only way you can even begin to look at him without wanting to cry. Without wanting to tear something out of your chest. Remove everything that makes you, you, and then perhaps you can even begin to tolerate it. Tolerate him.

So to his demand, you respond with the only thing you can say. “Yes, my lord.”

His eyes narrow. “I think,” he says darkly, “that the sight of this place displeases me so much, that I would rather burn it all down. Just in case I would ever have to see it again. What do you think?”

You still. Scaramouche makes no idle threats. The people here are innocent. Had treated you with welcome and cheer and kindness. They don’t deserve to burn in this crossfire between you and him. Something like panic flits through your mind, and it must have shown on your face, because he snorts. “Now you show something,” he jeers. “What, did you have a heart after all? And gave it to these people, of all things?”

You swallow. Careful, you warn yourself. Careful. “Lord Scaramouche,” you say, all dulcet and sweet. “Why stay longer than you need to? We should be on our way home.”

Home, you said. A branch of hope, of pleading, if he takes it.

But no. He clicks his tongue and sighs in exasperation. “Who said I was going to stay to see it burn?” he sneers. “After all, I’m not the one who’s going to get my hands dirty. Those who serve me know how to obey—something you clearly need to relearn.”

Scaramouche laughs, callous and cruel, and it pierces your heart. Kills something vital inside you—and you are not sure if you could ever get it back.

#yandere genshin imagines #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe x reader #yandere albedo x reader #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #psyche.writes #psyche.dabbles

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May i please have some yandere venti headcanons with a female s/o? Maybe with some nsfw? (Preferably dom venti if you don't mind)

i love the stuff you've written so far! i'm so curious about your whole take on yandere Venti

content warning: fem!reader, not sfw/smut, yandere, unprotected sex, emotional manipulation. reader discretion is advised.

word count: 0.8k (this was longer than i expected oops)

answer: oooh yan venti! thank you for the ask, anon; i don't see much of him in the genshin fic landscape, but he's one of my favourites. venti's such an interesting character to me as a yandere (and quite difficult to pin down), what with god of freedom and all that. writing him is always so... delicate? there's a fine line to straddle between the possessiveness and his canon nature. as for his personality, it's very Cheshire Cat-eqsue with a touch more trickery involved. overall, all I can say is: i thirst. i extremely thirst. venti rerun when

heartstrings | yandere venti headcanons

There's a balance to be struck inside Venti when it comes to you. On the one hand, he'd love to bind you to his side, eternal and undying; on the other, he finds the idea distasteful and reminiscent of the slavery that he's purged from Mondstadt.

The solution? You'll stay with him willingly. You have to. Venti has trickery and wiles in spades, and he's not afraid to use them. A sad pout of his lips, a glint of tears at the corner of his eyes, a whimper about how scary he feels, how utterly alone. Would you really leave him when he's so miserable? When you hug him in comfort, he'll give a secret smile against your skin. Venti strums your heartstrings like a lyre, and you fall for it every time. You always give into his neediness, this innocent travelling bard and his beautiful, mesmerizing songs.

Venti is clingy, and that would be putting it mildly. It shocks you at first, his casually intimate touches. You protest in the beginning, chastising him about 'inappropriate behaviours', and he rubs his neck sheepishly, chuckling. But you soon come to realize that Venti treats everyone closely, even strangers, and your worries lessen. So without your notice, it increases, the frequency of his touch. The duration. In the beginning, his touch is like the brief brush of the spring wind, but now, it lingers. Sometimes, your skin prickles, as if feeling a phantom touch.

Definitely a closet pervert... or maybe just an outright one. Oh, you're wearing a skirt today? Somehow, the winds coincidentally manage to be extremely strong during those times, and you're shrieking as your hand flies to hold down the fabric. It's all to no avail though, because he's getting a perfect view of everything. a A small smirk on his face, Venti shouts through the wind, "Do you need any help with that, miss?" All the while, there's a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes.

Venti's very particular about your scent. Being the god of the winds, he's sensitive to smells. He gets jealous when there's someone else's scent on your skin, sulks and has a silent tantrum. Maybe it should be extra rainy that day, just so that foreign scent disappears. He likes it best when there's a subtle celilia undertone, as if you had been scrubbed clean of all but harsh winds. As if you've been touched by none but him. As if you're being covered by him.

nsfw.

His touches start to escalate into plain pervert territory. Faceplanting himself into your breasts, snuggling into them as you squeak in surprise. His hand finding its way onto your waist, hips, until it goes lower, lower to caress your—! He expected that slap, but it's still worth it.

One way that he gets you to sleep with him is through pity. Tearing about how he's so lonely for a woman's touch, how no one wants him because he's too boyish looking. That's right... Venti goes for the pity sex route. He doesn't really care that it's pathetic, that you're not too into it, because at the end of the day, his needs are being met, and that's the important thing. This man has absolutely no shame. Besides, he'll make you sing soon enough.

You relunctantly offer yourself, saying that's it's just one time, and before you even finish speaking, his whole composure shifts. Immediately perks up and jumps for you.

That mischievous nature doesn't disappear in sex. He's a tease. Venti gets you worked up with the lightest of touches. Swipes his tongue on a nipple and then blowing softly over it, the cool breeze making you shiver. Dips his finger ever-so-briefly between your folds, collecting your slick and shows it to you as you blush. But he's also impatient. Once you start writhing in his lap, grinding into his hardened cock, the flash of pleasure he gets makes him forget all about his initial plans to drag it out.

Venti is surprisingly forceful when he fucks you, rough drags of his cock against your walls. It's fire, the heat of the friction. He'll lather kisses everywhere, sucks bruises over skin, forcing you to moan for him. He'll tells you exactly what note that was, and then laugh your embarrassment. Coos about how you're so pretty with his marks on you. The Anemo Archon becomes a harsh tempest in his movements, not stopping his rut into your cunt. You'll beg for him pull out, but he doesn't listen, a fake apology already on his lips about how he can't help it as he groans and releases in you. And then, he'll scoop out his cum and rub it into your skin, slow and gentle, draping you in his scent. He sighs, content. Now you'll smell like him for days.

#yandere venti x reader #venti x reader #venti #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin imagines #not sfw #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #psyche.answers #psyche.writes #anonymous asks #psyche.dabbles

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Uh...maybe Zhongli has a crush on reader who happens to be a father/mother (gn pls)? Their wife/husband/spouse has already died but reader doesn't want to fall for another person. They are loyal to their dead lover all the way!

notes: written for 700 followers mini ficathon

somehow, Zhongli is always unlucky enough to be in love with a darling that has a dead spouse in these requests. do people just like to see him annoyed

sudden relocation | yan zhongli x reader

“I do not think I heard you correctly,” Zhongli says politely. “Could you repeat yourself?”

“I’m sorry,” you say apologetically. A little bit flustered at the attention he’s afforded you; flattered, even, but you don’t think you can move past the grave of your dead lover, so recently buried. “But I’m content as I am. My little one too.”

He frowns, and you wince a little. You’ve never quite seen Zhongli so… shaken. As if your rejection of him came unexpected.

“I had thought…” He furrows his brows together, eyes going dark. “I must have not…”

“I-It’s not you,” you scramble to say, rubbing your neck. “You’ve been nothing but good to me. I just… I’m not ready to move on just yet. It…” You shake your head, finding yourself pained from remembrance. “It hurts to think of being with someone else right now.”

At that, Ling’er comes bouncing into the room from the gardens. “Oh!” She comes to a stop, little pigtails swaying from the motion. “Mr. Zhongli! Have you come by to play today?”

You freeze. Open your mouth, and find that no words will come out. How do you explain this to a child? Especially considering the fact that after your rejection, Zhongli may not wish to come around anymore. What a miserable break in your relationship.

He glances at you with his eyes, hard amber. “Not to play, Ling’er. You see, we’ve been talking”—and here he gestures between you—“and we thought it’d be best if you both pack up and move in with me.”

Ling’er claps her hand. “Really?” Her eyes sparkle, and she jumps for Zhongli, hugging his leg. “That means we’ll have even more time to play together, right?”

You reel back. Shivers go down your back. “What are you saying—”

But he cuts you off with a sharp look. A shimmer comes into his eyes, and he bends down to pickup Ling’er before you could stop him. With a sinking horror, you realize the vision at his back is also glowing.

And he has your child in his hands.

“Yes, Ling’er,” he says mildly. “You see, it may not be safe for the both of you, living alone in the outskirts of Liyue Harbour like this. It will be safer—and more fun—in the city proper. Isn’t that right?”

And here he looks at you. The command in his eyes is clear: you can only agree. Or else.

You force down the panic in your mind. You… you can’t do anything rash. Zhongli has never quite been so volatile until now. You had thought him rock-steady. Predictable.

But now, there is only fear. He has Ling'er right where he wanted—by his side. Leaning into his embrace, her cheek pressed to his chest. And you can do nothing to separate them without risking Ling'er's safety. You, who is so helpless and weak. You, who is visionless.

So you can only swallow your cries and protests, numbly saying, “Yes. That’s right.”

He hums at that. A quirk of his lips. "Good."

And you've never been more afraid of his smile.

#yandere zhongli x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere #psyche.answers #psyche.writes #psyche.dabbles #anonymous asks #psyche.ficathon

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Request for Yandere! Albedo with Tsundere! Darling headcanons

Also curious about what you think the daily routine of post-kidnapped Darling living with Albedo

content warning: yandere, possessiveness, mentions of drugging (good 'ol albedo at it again), mentions of harmful surgical procedures, nonconsensual touches (kissing), just general weird albedo things.

notes: hmm, interesting dynamic for a yandere with a tsundere reader. I’m more interested in readers that have a little more resistance to them, so darling doesn’t know any of his darker, more disturbing tendencies… in the beginning, at least.

word count: 0.8k

contradictio in terminis | yan albedo x reader

part i.

Sent by the Favonius Knights as an assistant for his alchemical craft at his request, you’re cold to him at first. Clipped words, harsh voice. That’s fine. Albedo isn’t looking for anyone’s approval. So he wasn’t so interested in you at the start, thinking you just another person that he has to work with as a colleague. That is, until you approached him with a scarf that you’ve made for him. The expression on your face was… curious. He’s never seen such a vulnerable, embarrassed look on you before. And the way you acted when you presented it to him was completely abnormal from your usual behaviour. From then on, Albedo makes sure to document all of your little oddities.

You like to make him food—which you always say, blustering, that you just made too much. It’s not that you prepared it specifically for you or anything, okay? Even though when you find out that he enjoys desserts, you spent half a day to make him macarons. (He knows. He knows everything about you.) Of course, Albedo always accepts it with eyes of hidden amusement. You really weren’t fooling anyone, with such a severe blush on your face.

He thinks that your little crush on him is… interesting. He has trouble understanding what exactly it is about him that you’re attracted to, though he won’t say he doesn’t like the attention. Although, he’s always pushing at your boundaries. A gentle brush of his gloved hands on your cheek, when a snowflake has drifted its way onto your skin. A casual bump of his shoulders against yours when you’re walking together. It always makes you stiffen up, like an ice block. You think that it’s all accidental, but it’s not. His subtle touches slowly escalate without you even realizing; he’s careful to make sure of it.

It bothers him that this attitude of yours—the sudden switch from cold to warm, the blushes—is not only reserved for him. Such fascinating behaviour, but when he isn’t on the receiving end, it makes something in him twist in discomfort. When he sees that you’re acting warm toward others in his presence, he always cuts you off with a cold voice, reminding how your responsibility was to assist him in his alchemy. There’s no time to linger and talk. Your duty was to him and him foremost.

He wonders what you’ll think of him when he sequesters you away from all those miscellaneous bothers. That way, you can only focus on him. Would you be grateful for it? (He’s deluding himself, he knows.)

part ii.

As for post-kidnapping routine, I think that he would allow you more freedoms that some of the other more… possessive yanderes. But only up to a point, and if you were obedient. Not specifically tsundere!darling written here.

Not the type to really lock you inside, per se. He knows that humans need exercise and to experience new settings so as to not let monotony set in. Therefore, Albedo lets you go on walks outside, when the weather permits it—always under his watch, of course. And always on paths rarely taken, so that it’s just you and him. He doesn’t like intrusions on these times, when he’s observing you. On this note, not really the type to keep you chained up. But if you keep trying him, he will immediately do it, without mercy. So your freedom to see the outside world really just banks on your good behaviour. It’s a blessing that he’s not quick to anger—else he may have just cut you open and cut your tendons to keep you with him for good. He’d like it if you were fully dependent on him, though he’s not going to push until that step (yet).

Albedo has a lot of reading materials, but they’re mostly things beyond your understanding. Complex alchemy formulas, theories, jargon that you have absolutely no idea how to decipher. But he doesn’t really want to get you books that you’d be actually interested in. See, if you don’t understand, he’s always within reach. You merely have to ask.

Tries to perform all sorts of supposed experiments on you. Nothing really harmful, but they make you uncomfortable at the intimacy of it. For example, him brushing your hair. Him helping you get dressed. It’s embarrassing. It’s degrading. He seems to enjoy it more than enough, playing with you as if you were a doll. To Albedo, it’s just more observations to be recorded, regarding both your behaviour and his own feelings toward you.

He’s the one that makes food for you—but you’re always wary of whatever it is that he gives you. He’s slipped in potions before. Ones that leaves you compliant, ones that leaves you wanting, ones that leaves you… not you. You always come back to yourself in the end, always in the most humiliating positions. Latched onto him. Kissing him. A soft, wistful look on his face. It makes you disgusted. (If he had only asked, before taking you away, you would have agreed. If only he had asked. But now, there’s nothing but fear and hatred for him.)

#yandere albedo x reader #yandere albedo #albedo x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere x reader #yandere #psyche.answers #cthulhu-cat #psyche.writes #psyche.dabbles

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dance of the crane | yandere shenhe headcanon

Finished the interlude quest and now I have yandere Shenhe brainrot. She has just so much yandere potential—on par with Scaramouche in terms of possessiveness, only less malicious and sadistic. The homicidal urges combined with her backstory is quite the blend for a yandere.

Content warning: yandere (obviously), unhealthy obsession/reverence, mentions of killing, homicidal urges. To be fair, Shenhe is her own content warning label.

On the one hand for Shenhe, because of the fact that her father's maniacal love for her mother is what caused her to be abandoned, she doesn't want to follow in his footsteps. Shenhe, already so emotionally detached, is indifferent when it comes to the all-encompassing romantic love revered in so many legends. Borderline hates it, actually, despite her usually emotionless state—though she doesn't know why she feels such strong vehemence.

When she sees couples pledging eternal love to each other, she just gets annoyed. Bad memories resurface, and violent tendencies burst to be released.

On the other hand, there's you. It's hard not to let the small part of her that's always longed for such unconditional love bloom into being. For all that she fears to feel love, she also yearns for it. It is a mark of the humanity that she is working so hard towards, after all.

Shenhe has always been a beast of instinct; it's how she survived all these years. She trusts her decisions, unless you state otherwise. So when these possessive feelings come up, she doesn't deny them. She won't deny herself when it comes to you.

Shenhe is fiercely protective. Your safety is of the utmost importance. Even the slightest of hurt will not go unpunished under her gaze. Like red-crowned cranes, Shenhe is also aggressive and territorial; any slight intrusion into what she deems hers is marked as an enemy which must be eliminated.

Oh, she might restrict her actions if you were to comment on how "unusual" certain behaviours are, as that's how she learns when something is socially acceptable. Ultimately, she is highly deferential towards your requests, knowing that her actions are... unpalatable to most. Your words are how she's gradually reintegrating into society, so she treats them with reverence.

But the thing is. If you don't notice her subtle glares toward the people that dare approach you, speak intimately to you, touch you when even she has not the privilege to do so—then you can't tell her to stop, can you?

You'd be in the middle of bartering with a merchant who's acting too friendly to make a sale, and Shenhe doesn't know why, but it makes her unhappy. So she gives a frosty stare behind you as you chatter on, and the merchant becomes paler and paler, until eventually, they realize how close they are to death when Shenhe casually twirls her polearm—to her, a habit for calming down; to them, a sentence of execution. At that point, they'll cut you off the conversation, pleading illness or simply agreeing to your terms. Anything to get the deadly woman behind you away from their stand.

You, on the other hand, are oblivious to it all. You'll even tell her, "I think you're my lucky charm, Shenhe! Every time I go to the market with you, I always get the best deals." This is a huge praise for Shenhe, because she's always believed herself to be a cursed child, especially with her 'curse of calamity'.

So these aspects of her violence goes unchecked—encouraged even. And if there's a couple of dead bodies left along the way... It's not as if you know enough to tell her to stop. She's trying to help rid you of nuisances, that's all. You were complaining about them; she's just finding a solution to the problem, no thanks even needed. She won't even speak of them to you, because it would just bring your mood down to hear about them.

It's not that she tries to hide these violent behaviours from you. She would stop if you ask her to. It's just that she performs them almost unconsciously when you're not looking, and thus, you also remain unaware. She's gained something of a reputation in Liyue when it comes to you. This is how all of Liyue Harbour knows to avoid looking at you for too long, for fear of inviting the crane's wrath.

#yandere shenhe #yandere shenhe x reader #shenhe #shenhe x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact imagines #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #yandere x reader #yandere #psyche.writes #psyche.dabbles

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time travel shenanigans concept ft. zhongli continuation, because plot bunnies are still biting at my brain.

1. so how you travel through time: you're a mortal married to zhongli. you only know him as the funeral parlour consultant. it's loveless marriage type of deal—somehow, you got swept up in his plan without realizing. eventually, you realize it was all orchestrated by him. you can't live like this. need to throw up your hands and wash clean of him, and in the middle of the night, you run away from your husband (gonna have to figure out how this happens because zhongli is a very clever man).

reach the bishui river—formed from the blood of adeptus, somehow through adepti magic (because of full moon maybe? or a special time in liyue, where demonic activity is higher than normal), you fall in. drowning, you grasp for the surface, only to then suddenly surface. fall onto the bank, and staring at you is zhongli... but not. he's not dressed in his consultant clothes. eyes a little more... reptilian. something about him is off, but you're too scared to care.

"so you found me in the end." your plan failed. your husband is here to take you back.

you close your eyes and wait for his anger, wait for your punishment, but there is only confusion in his voice when he says, almost growling, "who are you? and why do you have my mark?"

because of course zhongli marked you with his sigil. just fulfilling his duty of being a husband by broadcasting to every vision holder/adepti that, "hey! this is my spouse! no touching!"

2. really random sidenote but. past zhongli—let's call him morax—to basically try to seduce you (? is it seduce if it's forced).

you refuse, because you're still married. not that you care, but you don't like this zhongli any more than you do your zhongli, so you use your marriage vows as a deterrent. morax obviously pissed and is like, "why do you keep refusing me? who is this man? i'll just force him to divorce you, problem solved." but obviously, he can't find your husband in the first place.

then flash forward and somehow present zhongli is here to pick you up from this wacky trip in time. morax meets present zhongli. and his brain is just fried, realizing that he himself is your husband. and that he tried to divorce himself. did... did i just try to cuck myself??

meanwhile present zhongli asks you, did you cheat on me?? and you reply, is it cheating if it's with your husband, albeit a younger version of him. you're lying about it, just playing with him because you hate him and you wanna watch the world burn and him along with it. so now zhongli's brain just explodes at the implication, because is it cheating then?? is this breaking the sacred contract of marriage, if you cheat on him with... himself??

anyway. i just find the idea of zhongli cucking himself funny. then he gets into a fight with his past self, a battle of sarcasm and wit and occasionally fist. them being jealous of each other and thinking that somehow, this other version of themselves somehow got into your pants. imagine when it turns out the cockblock was their own selves all along. cue meme:

in reality, you hate them both equally as much. there is no winner if there's no competition at all, and they're both bottom of the barrel for you. literal mud on your shoes. you can't wait till they kill each other and then rip apart the time-space continuum

#psyche.whispers #random incoherent rambling #concepts #yandere zhongli x reader #psyche.dabbles #feel free to toss in ideas #i wanna write this but i have so many other things to get to ahhhh #just gonna brainrot on the dash for now i guess #cackling at the thought of zhongli getting jealous of himself