Yandere Childe X Reader - Tumblr Posts

So someone asked a really good question about my recent fic Dandelion Wine which I can't reply to for some reason 😭 😭

But it was "What about Childe's Wife? Did she just get cheated on too?" And the answer is: if you want her to. Typically when I'm writing for Scara or Childe or both of them together, only one of them is married at a time.

So in Dandelion Wine, I didn't interpret Childe as married, but you can if you want to!!

saw yr posts abt submissive yanderes, and hear me out, tartaglia. i mean this from the bottom of my heart he is the one that wants you to do things to him, and while that’s not exactly submission i think it’s close enough?

just… in my mind he wants anything you’ll give him, he’ll give his body up to you, even if you punch and kick him, he takes it, sure he’d rather you treat him the way he would (does?) you, but any touch you give makes him feel like a wild animal.

tartaglia, who just needs you. idek i’m losing my train of thought 🙏

I don't think it's exactly what you wanted, but I got carried away and wrote masochist Childe👉🏾👈🏾. I hope that's okay!!! Personally, as a woman who loves femdom, it felt so good to write this though!! It was like I was going back to my roots.

TW: NSF.W Yandere themes, BDSM (bondage, sadism/masochism), violence, nipple play, unprotected sex, finishing inside, dub-con, overstimulation(?), choking

“Hurt me more,” he cooed while looking up at you with big, eyes full of anticipation. Drool leaking from his lips, his cheek was already red and warm from your stinging slap across it, “C’mon, I know you hate me. Now's your chance to treat me like you do.” He'd goad you with that same smug, smirk on his face.

Childe's big strong arms were tied with a rope to the headboard. The material was tight, digging into the flesh of his wrist anytime he'd struggle against them. But despite the aching pain you could imagine he was feeling, he showed a face of hunger, of desire for more.

His cock, large and twitching, was strained against his boxers, begging to be let free from its confines. When you brought another rough slap down across his cheek, you watched it twitch and leak and darken that already deep fabric with his precum, while he trembled with his tongue lolling out of his mouth.

He'd grind his hips up, wanting you to free his aching dick, but you never did. You knew he could cum without it and he did too. Your hand would slide up his chiseled stomach, his body was always slightly colder than what it was supposed to be, and you squeezed one of his pink nipples between your finger tips. As hard as you could. Squeezing and twisting until your hand shook.

Lips clenched together, he muffled his own moans. His cock twitched in his underwear a few more times, the head of it rubbing against the precum he'd already spilled on his boxers .He came like that, the many shots of his semen continuing to soak the cloth until it began to drip down his cock again.

When he stilled from his orgasm, his body still twitching, he smiled at you lovingly. All the disgust you felt towards him still there, you'd turn away without a word.

You never took yourself to be much of a sadist, the idea of it being like a whisper of the night, never being brought to the day, but that was before Childe took you. Locked away in his home, falling victim to his torture that he called love, you felt animosity towards him grow. That animosity would turn into violent fits of rage, ones that he never took seriously. There was no way you could actually hurt a harbinger, especially without a vision, but that didn't stop you from trying. And one fateful day, you actually managed to connect a punch to his jaw.

It was your first time ever punching someone and felt more like you were hitting a brick wall than a person. You shook your sore hand out, immediately regretting what you'd done for the pain it caused you instead. But Childe stood there stiff, a little bruise forming on the side of his face. His eyes had rolled back, body beginning to shutter. His mouth agape, he let out a soft, low moan. You were going to tell him to stop joking around, that he wasn't funny, until he dropped to his knees in front of you, a wet patch forming on the front of his pants. Childe had cum just from your little act of violence.

While he loved the art of fighting. The rush that ending another life gave him, the way his body felt while he was throwing punches, it was an unmatchable adrenaline rush, he never knew he was one for pain. Pain from your hands felt different. It felt pleasurable. A familiar stinging followed by tingles that shot through his body. Only you could do that to him.

“You're incredible, my angel,” he moaned while kissing up your thighs, wanting to do more with this new found knowledge of his.

He had you laid back on the bed, pounding into your tender cunt with little mercy. Each long stroke of his cock made your toes curl from the unwanted pleasure of him hitting your insides. Your legs on his hips, you squeezed the sheets for leverage as you begged for him to stop, or at the very least slow down. He was going to fast, too drunk and clumsy from the satisfaction your dripping pussy was giving him.

Childe’s large hand engulfed your wrist, a feeling you were familiar with. Instead of holding you in place so he could fuck you deeper into the mattress with less struggle from you like you thought he would, he lifted it up and placed your palm to his neck.

“Make me,” he growled, lust clouding his eyes. Uncertainty caused you to tremble for a moment before you realized that this was Childe, nothing you could do could actually hurt him. He was asking for it, even going as far as to lift your legs higher, to thrust into you deeper, to make you try to stop him more.

You squeezed that muscled throat, choking him with the hope that he might actually die, but knowing better. He loved it, his already obnoxious moans were even louder than before. His thrusts felt even more rough, hips slapping against yours as you actually felt yourself growing a little aroused from this and he noticed too. A smirk on his face as he struggled to inhale, but still fucking you at that same brutal pace with those same deep, strokes.

He strained to speak as he tried to tell you he was cumming, his mouth just opening and closing, drooling down his chin. Childe forced his cock balls deep inside of you, going so deep with his length it almost felt uncomfortable. He began to cum, dick twitching like mad against your walls. Soft whimpers and groans would drop from his lips as you didn't let go of him, only squeezing his throat tighter.

His cock didn't get the chance to soften, he stayed hard as he started slow, shallow thrusts into your pussy again. The mixture of the pain of overstimulation and lack of air from your choking has him convulsing, but he didn't pull out, using his own cum as lube.

“Ah…hah…just say you want to milk me dry, my love, I'll keep going,” he managed to grunt through tears, his orange hair sticking to his forehead with sweat.

PLS CAN YOU FEED US MORE hero of the nation knight!childe ON MY KNEES I LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH AND I SEARCHED EVERYWHERE FOR A FIC LIKE THIS

This took FOREVER to write, but here you go!!

Blessings Be to The Hero of the Nation

Historical AU

Yandere Hero of the Nation! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: yandere themes, stalking, minor character death, blood, threatening, forced marriage/engagement

He kept one of your hair ribbons wrapped around the hilt of his sword. It billowed in the wind constantly and would draw watchful eyes to it. That pastel pink fabric didn't match a single thing on his brutish, usually bloody exterior, but he still kept it regardless. You tragically didn't give it to him in a blatant display of affection and well wishes for him on his journey, instead, he found the little ribbon after it'd blown off your head and up to the wind. A little pout formed on your lips realizing you'd lost it, but you decided against retrieving it. He didn't though. He picked it up and placed it in his pocket, taking it home to clean off the dirt and grime.

That same ribbon was clenched in his hands when he arrived at the gate of your manor, along with a few other gifts that he would give to you. He'd just slayed the dragon, the wretched menace that was terrorizing the nation, now and only now did he feel worthy to ask for your hand. Cleaning off all the blood and gore that was on his armor, polishing it into light metal that could blind anyone who looked directly at it, he was certain that this would charm you off of your feet.

When he was invited into your home by your parents who were surprised to see the hero himself at their door, he didn't care about the tea or the cakes. The praise meant nothing coming from them. He skipped the pleasantries and went straight to the point. He wanted your hand in marriage and he wanted the wedding to be soon.

A skittish expression crossed your father's face as he gritted his teeth, “We've decided to leave that decision up to her.” Childe smirked, that was even better. He'd never met a woman who wouldn't fall for his charms.

You were called down from your room, eyelids heavy and half open, still in your thin sleeping gown with a robe over it. You were rubbing the tiredness from your eyes as you walked down the stairs, your other delicate hand gripping the banister. And when you saw him, you bowed. A deep traditional bow, given to those of a respectable higher status.

He kneeled down on one knee before you. The male kneeled for only one person, the queen herself. His sword pulled from its sheath, he laid it flat against his palms, offering it up to you. That knocked the sleepiness from his body and suddenly your eyes were wide open. Genuine shock was making your body stiff as a board and you looked back and forth to your parents who didn't say a word.

“Your visage has danced around my heart non stop since the first time I laid eyes on you. I wish to use this sword only to fight for you. Won't you please do me the honor of becoming my wife?” Words spoken in honor, with him meaning every bit of it. You were meant to take the sword from his hands, tapping it gently upon each of his shoulders, but you didn't. You just stood there, lips trembling, but not saying anything.

A marriage proposal via a letter was easy to ignore or reject, you didn't have to see their reaction. But never had you had someone be so bold as to propose to you in person. And not only that, the very hero that saved the Kingdom. Rumors told you he'd be marrying the first princess, she obsessed over him before he became the hero and those feelings seemed to only grow stronger after he waltzed into the city with the bloody head of the beast. Yet here he was at your feet, patiently anticipating your answer which he was positive was going to be a yes.

“I-'' you began, trying to think of the easiest way to let him down gently, “I fear that I'm not ready for marriage yet.” You said hurriedly. That wasn’t entirely a lie. You spent countless hours looking at the list of marriage candidates and scoping them out at balls and parties, but quickly realizing that none of them suited your tastes in that way. The entire idea of being wed barely satisfied you. You wanted to push it off for as long as possible.

“I'm willing to wait for you until the world crumbles. I'd even accept being your fiance until the day we die, as long as I can say you're mine,” he was persistent, you'd give him that.

You fiddled with your fingers nervously. Time felt as if it had stopped and this moment would never end. No matter what you did, he was still going to be there, “I thought you were to be wed to her highness, the princess?” You questioned him.

A scoff fell from his cherry pink lips, eyes looking you up and down, drinking in every inch of your body in that thin nightgown, “She does not interest me. Not the way you do.”

“There is really nothing interesting about me,”

“Won't you let me be the judge of that?”

Your shoulders slumped as you looked to your parents. They seemed as surprised by his persistence as you did, but weren't going to step in to help you, they always affirmed that it was your decision, they wanted you to be independent.

“Forgive me, hero, but I can not accept your offer,”

For just a split second you saw that princely expression slip. His eyes grew dark, lips in a deep frown, a rage you'd never seen before. But he was back to his usual expression in less than a second, that charming smile forming on his lips again as he stood from his knees and sheathed his sword a little too slowly.

“You wound me, my lady,” he'd mutter softly, hands still conveniently tight around the hilt of this sword, “Won't you please accept my gifts? And if you are to begin considering marriage, I hope that my proposal will be remembered fondly.”

Childe showed himself out, a little too quickly, but you didn't dare tell him to slow down. It was only once he was out those large double doors, did the air in your home feel breathable, you finally felt safe again. You watched his carriage leave from a window, watching as his eyes went dull again, losing all shimmers and feeling like a hollow mimicry of what humans were supposed to look like.

You were quite embarrassed to say you fell in love after that. Not with Childe, of course. You mentally tried to push the man from your mind after the way he startled both you and your family. Instead, your feelings developed for a commoner boy. You found yourself eyeing him when he'd deliver produce to your home, his face being one of pure beauty despite his messy exterior. As months went by, you'd catch yourself stealing bashful glances at him, locking eyes only for both of you to look away shyly. When the engagement was announced, Childe was one of the first to hear about it.

You twirled around the house in your wedding dress. Something plain and basic, but it was what your family could afford, and quite honestly, you loved it. You didn't want to take it off. Your fear of getting it dirty lessened as the days went by, until the wedding was only a week away.

“A guest for you, my lady,” one of your maids had said. Typically, when the employees of the house saw you dressed in your white gown, they'd smile at you, overjoyed as well. But she didn't. She looked worried, even a bit tense as she made the announcement to you.

“I hadn't arranged to meet anyone today,” you said a bit quietly, going to you closer to pick out something to change into, “Please tell them to wait in the day room.”

She stood stiffly for a second, then opened her trembling mouth to speak again, “I tried to, my lady. But he insisted on seeing you right now. He's just outside the door,”

A part of you wanted to ask who it was, who would be so disrespectful as to barge right up to a lady's room without her permission. But you already knew. There was a sense of unease sinking into your stomach. Unease and recognition. All the gifts and letters he'd sent weren't enough, were they? The man you were ignoring just had to come see you in person.

“Let him in,” you told the maid. She seemed confused at the ease at which you allowed such a thing, but still opened the door, revealing Childe who stood still in the hallway. He stepped past her, eyes only trained on you, “You're dismissed,” you said quietly, with a reassuring smile to the maid. Hesitance danced across her face, looking back and forth between you Childe, but she still did as told, bowing before leaving.

“You look lovely,” he said breathlessly, taking in the sight of you in that pure white dress.

“Thank you,” was all you could think to say back. Now that he was here before you, your mind was growing blank, all the things you wanted to say suddenly getting lost in fear. You tried not to notice the tension in the room, the way he was eyeing you like a predator about to pounce on a rabbit, but even your tough exterior was easy to see through.

“My heart aches for you, my lady,” he speaks softly while taking slow steps towards you. The terror of this situation made you move backwards, until your feet had made you press your back against the wall, “I fear that my haste might've made me do something…irrational.”

His dominant hand seems focused on the sword at his hip, making you look at it. It was only when you saw the red speckles all over his hand, hilt of the sword, and the oddly familiar pink ribbon he kept tied around it, did that coppery smell fill your nostrils.

With a trembling voice and a fake smile, you tried to assure him, “Any mistake is fixable, Sir Childe.”

“Not this one,” his hand continued to hold the hilt of his sword, squeezing it a few times as of testing the weight of his blade, “Do you know the best part of being the hero? The dragon slayer?” He asked, waiting for your response which was just a slow, forced shake of your head, prompting him to continue, “It's not the riches or the praise. It's not even the women.” As he speaks, one of his hands slides down from your cheek, to your neck, to the bodice of your dress. Tearful eyes look down to see him smearing that red liquid, that blood onto you white dress, staining it.

“I don't understand,” you mumbled, but your words fall on deaf ears.

“The best part of being the hero, is the freedom to do what I want. With no prosecution. Who in their right mind would stand up to the man who saved our failing nation? The answer is no one. Not the king, nor his workers, and especially not your weak little fiance,”

The sight and smell of blood, Childe's deep, hollow blue eyes, the way your heart felt as if it wanted to lurch out of your mouth. All things you tried to focus on as his words pounded their way into your skull, understanding washing over you like a wave that was trying to drown you where you stood.

“Wh-what did you do?” Your voice, so high pitched and breaking as the weight of the words forced through your body.

His hand, cold, soft, wet with blood rubbed your cheek, while his face never faltered, those dead eyes never changing, he had no remorse. It made you sick to your stomach, images of your fiance flashing through your head as you tried to imagine what he looked like, the hopeful ones saying that he was at least still alive.

“I'm going to ask again, nicely this time,” he began while pulling a ring from his pocket. Much more intricate than the one your fiance had given you, seeing as he had the hero's budget. But that didn't make you feel any less light headed when it was slipped onto your ring finger, freezing cold against your warm skin, “Will you do me the honor of becoming my bride?”

I swear to God Childe has so much potential as a yandere, I have this feeling that his soul “died” when he fall into the abyss, after that major event he is a completely different person and his parents knows it they saw it in his eyes, soulless, thirsty for blood and violence.

Imagine him in utter shock when his kids get scared of him, not realizing his love is twisted and sick in the head after they saw how he treats their mother by trying to mimic what he thinks is “love”, how she gets anxious whenever she’s around him,they can hear her cry every night from their bedroom despite her trying her best to be the mother they deserve knowing the circumstances that led to their births, Generally children can feel when something is happening in their household but cannot fully understand it due to their age (lol speaking from experience).

He thought he’d have a picture perfect family with his darling, but why now are they seeing him as if he some type of a monster? That will for sure would make him insecure and it brings up the abyss memories. He claims he loves them and their mother so much but why does he hurt their mama?.

Friend, this is literally a full fledged fic already! And it's incredible!! I've been thinking on this idea for a bit already cause I already had an ask similar to it, so I'll add onto your fic just a little bit!!

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere themes, reader has children

Growing up in a large family with so many siblings to love and care for, laughter was a sound that he often heard. It was his favorite sound, other than the distinct noise that blood made when it dripped into freshly packed snow. Snezhnaya is cold, but laughter coming straight from your belly is so so warm.

He loves coming home to the sound of laughter. Childish giggles and your rich chuckles. He'd sit his bow down to the side and close the front door to the manor, a noise that was rather loud. He'd be smiling ear to ear, wanting to join in on all the fun, only to realize that the house was now quiet.

Childe went to the living room, where you sat with his two sons. Your two sons. His little bundles of joy that he was eternally grateful to have. The younger one rested on your lap, the other on the carpeted floor at your feet, with a myriad of toys splayed in front of him.

Why did you always make that face at him, he wondered. Big doe eyes, like deer in headlights, you always looked so stiff and scared around him. Maybe that's why in turn, the kids made that same face, maybe that's why the laughter always stopped when he entered the room. The kids would huddle in closer to you and farther away from him.

"It's nice to see you all together when I come home," he'd say, with that smile still on his face, but you could see the edges of his lips twitching. He was forcing this smile and you forced one back, gently tapping your son with your foot to tell him to do the same. He hesitated for a moment, then beamed up at him with a grin, missing his two front teeth.

"We missed you, papa!" He yelled, just as you told him to. Just the way Childe wanted. Your younger son continued to bury his face in your lap, trying to look any where but his father.

Childe didn't seem bothered by this and leaned down to tousle the boy's orange hair, making him flinch in your hold, "I always loved that they got my hair color," he said while looking at you, eyes so dead and empty, you thought you were looking into a void, "I never realized how well my hair and your eyes went together until I saw them."

"Is that so, my love?" You spoke warmly while gently trying to nudge your son from your lap, "We could talk more about it now. I was just going to send the boys to their rooms."

His expression finally changed. The facade finally fell. His smile dropped and his eyebrows furrowed. You could tell that he was trying to hold the expression back, trying not to scare the children, but they'd already notice his change in demeanor. His shift in attitude making the air feel thick and tight, constricting your chest.

"Why would we do that? We can just talk together, as a family,"

Wow I loved your latest child piece, do you think he would try desperately to make his sons like him? Give them gifts and go fishing together with his oldest son? I mean he can see that the kid is terrified of him but he tries to reassure him but to no avail. I think he would let his anger out on some of his poor Fatui men or on his missions whenever these moments happen to him. That’s so angsty how Childe loves his family but they only see him as the monster they think he is.

Y'all I actually really do like writing for yandere Childe's family!! The angst is so fucking good!!

But since I can't keep up with the nameless kids, the older boy is Adonis and the younger one is Damon

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Reader has children, mentions of previous abuse

“You look so cute all bundled up like that, my sweet,” you praised your older son, even patting his head and squeezing his cheeks the way you knew he liked. Yet nothing you were doing could lift the dark cloud that was over him, the fear in his eyes was paralyzing and he was gripping the hem of your dress so tightly, you thought he'd rip it if he were made to let go.

“P-pl-please don't send me away, mommy,” Little Adonis whimpered through tears and you felt your heart shatter. Orange hair framing his face, you brushed it to the side. You hated just how much they looked like their father, his genes so strong they were like little carbon copies of him. And their cries always tugged at your heart, you hated that he made you feel empathy for his face

With your other son still on your hip, you tried to comfort both boys. Finding it difficult to soothe with your hands full. Adonis had gone from whimpering and labored breaths to full blown sobbing at this point, wiping the tears from his chubby cheeks with the backs of his mittens. You tried to stop him from crying, tried to get him to calm down. When the older one cried, so did the younger, and soon Damon was also in your arms shedding tears.

“Your father just wants to take you out for a bit,” your voice was shaky as you tried to reassure him, “You won't even be far. The pond is only a short walk away.” Your words fell on deaf ears as they continued to cry, both of them getting your dress wet with their fat tears.

“What's all the commotion?” The voice that asked this question somehow managed to make both of your children suck their tears up quickly and fall into an almost scary silence. They peaked up at you, waiting for your response to Ajax, who was giving you his usual charming smile.

“I- I just don't think Adonis is very fond of the snow,” you spoke quickly while patting the boy's head, even cupping his cheeks to try and wipe away some of the wetness from his face.

If Childe noticed how tense the entire family has become at his presence he didn't speak on it. Instead he took a knee right in front of his son, also reaching up to pat the boy's head, but he flinched away from his father's touch. You squeezed his shoulder a bit too tightly to hold him in place, making him look up at you in a way that broke your heart. He felt as if you were betraying him, but you knew better, what Childe could do to him was much much worse.

“That's nonsense. He's from Snezhnaya, he should love the snow,” he finally got to pet Adonis’ head. His large hand that was covered in scars and callous practically getting lost in the orange locks.

“Maybe he takes more after me,” you took Childe's hand, trying to put his attention more on you instead, “It doesn't even get cold in Liyue. You remember how much I hated it here when I first arrived, don't you?”

His eyes went dark for a moment as he squeezed your hand a little too tightly, “You hated it here for a lot of reasons.”

“But the cold was the worst part,”

“Adonis will be fine,” he spoke while placing a kiss upon your lips, then one on Damon's forehead, “My father took me ice fishing when I was practically an infant.”

“I-i suppose,” words muttered with your head down.

The two of them slipped on their boots together, with Childe even helping his son tie his. You felt on edge watching the both of them leave out the door. It was the first time that you'd ever left Childe alone with him, and the instinct inside of you that was telling you to protect them was on high alert. There was nothing you feared more than your husband.

But nothing could be done. Childe kissed you again on the lips and you pressed your forehead to your sons, quietly whispering words of assurance to him and most of all Please be good.

Do u have any HCs for Adonis and Damon? Like anything at all? Their ages? I feel like Damon is still a baby maybe 18 months old?

Plenty of them!!

It's so weird that people actually care about what are essentially OCs, but I'm not the least bit mad about it!!

Adonis is the older and slightly more extraverted sibling, he's roughly six and a half. Childe coddled you while you were pregnant with the boy, feeding you only the finest quality things while he laid in your stomach.

Having lived with the two of you for the longest, he's grown weary of his father after seeing the way that you act around him. He's a smart kid, he's knows that there's a reason for it. There's not a way to describe it, but something seems off about his father to him and it makes him standoffish to the man.

He enjoys more physical activities, being better than average at sports and running, which is something that Childe wants to bond with him over. While he does prefer being under his mother when his father is around, he's extremely independent.

Damon is just under two. He's able to walk just fine, but he prefers to be held. He doesn't speak much, barely even babbles as babies tend to, which made you worry about him for a bit. Adonis loves his little brother to hell and back, and at night will tell him to be careful of their father and that he's bad. Because of this Damon actually views Childe as a monster and doesn't want to be near him, feeling genuine, visceral fear about him.

Both boys have Childe's orange hair and Damon even has a few freckles. Adonis was born in Snezhnaya, but Damon was born in Liyue during the Lantern Rite.

How easy it would be to escape them

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

TW: Yandere Themes, Stalking, Mentions of Punishment

Diluc - Difficulty Level: Very Easy

Do you think he doesn't regret what he's done? That he doesn't stay up all night, fighting internally with what he thinks he should do with you? Taking you was a spur of the moment thing, something that happened without a lot of thought put behind it. He just knew he needed you close. He needed you to be near. He needed you with him.

Because of this you're already able to push him around a fair bit. He gives you almost everything you want except for freedom, pure red eyes practically begging for your forgiveness.

He won't let you go if you just ask, he's not that lenient after all, but if he were to wake up one morning and you were not there, he'd go through so many emotions at one time. The manor would be searched from top to bottom, every nook and cranny searched for you. When you're not found a part of him feels calm, it feels satisfied. He stole you without your permission, so he's happy that you're finally free like you wanted. But there's also a tragic, gripping pain in his chest. You're gone, and he knows that he has no right to ask for you back. If you manage to leave Diluc, you'll probably never see him again.

Childe - Difficulty Level: Medium

His playfulness is simultaneously a ploy and his actual personality, such is the nature of him. He's so easy going most days, so funny and kind that part of you forgets that he's forced you into this. Until he has one of those bad days and you see the true strength and fury of a harbinger.

Even before you were stolen by Childe, you found him rather strange. Maybe it was the lack of light in his eyes, or how he casually talked about fighting and killing like it was nothing. Those should've been red flags, signals to stop talking to him, but his charm was laid on thick and suddenly you were stuck in his home in Snezhnaya.

Do you think you escaped because of your wit or because he let you? You'd never truly know the answer, but you thought it strange that you were able to leave his house without a single maid alerting him, without a single guard chasing you.

That sigh of relief you breathe when you're finally home may be the last one you get. Suddenly you feel so afraid constantly. You chalk it up to paranoia, but you can't stop looking over your shoulder. And then you start seeing traces of him. Fatui foot soldiers and letters with that familiar wax seal on them.

When you eventually see him, smiling at you casually like nothing is wrong, your heart practically shatters. You find yourself asking again, did you truly get away or did he let you? He always mentioned loving the chase.

Scaramouche - Difficulty Level: Very Hard

Good luck getting him to even trust you enough to let you roam the gardens without him. His home is a maze of eyes and watchful gazes, the only person you can rely on is yourself. There isn't really much you can do to get away from him, the house is guarded like a prison and Scaramouche himself is a tough man to get along with.

He loves you, he knows he does, that's what that painful feeling in his chest is, but he can't bring himself to even give you a taste of freedom. Give them an inch and they'll take a mile. Because of that you often spend time sitting next to windows, longingly looking outside at the world you're convinced you'll never see again. Not without him breathing over your shoulder.

Let yourself get away if you dare, you'd better hope your plan is air tight. Scaramouche won't fall for the same tricks twice. Fool him once, shame on him, but fool him twice and you'll learn how truly kind he was being to you before. Hope and pray to whichever Archon you worship that when you get away, he won't find you. But getting away is just the beginning. Staying out of his reach is the hardest. His home isn't the only place where he has eyes everywhere.

Day of the Wedding

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Forced(?) Alcohol Consumption

AN: I checked today and I have 900 followers??? That's actually insane!!! This is what I've got to offer I guess!!

Diluc

Who wouldn't cry tears of joy when marrying the most desired bachelor of Mondstadt? That's what people thought when they saw you dressed from head to toe in pure white, the only thing throwing your princess attire off being your smeared makeup. Your eyes, so red and puffy, had mascara running down your cheeks. Black tears staining your face.

Despite the way you looked, you still forced a smile. It was a small wedding, containing only those close to the both of you, but your family couldn't help, but wonder why you chose to stay close under your newly wed husband, almost seeming afraid to talk to them.

When the vows were spoken, you could barely get the words out. Your voice shaking through sobs as your tears fell upon the page of written notes, eventually making the ink leak and becoming ineligible. You still spoke your I Do’s, followed by him lifting your veil and kissing you right upon your lips. His hand snaked around your waist and the other held your head in place. But you, you stood there stiffly, like kissing him had made you turn into stone.

Diluc pulled away with a smile, his mouth stained with a slight tint of your lipstick. He walked you back down the aisle, with the crowd throwing rice and cheering. On the happiest day of your life where you were supposed to be looking forward ahead of you, you just kept looking back, hoping that your family could see the distress in your eyes, though they never did.

Childe

So many of Childe's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles came to the wedding, but not a single one of your family members joined you.

“She's not close to her family,” he'd say, holding on to your waist with a threatening hand. That was a lie. You loved your family. You saw them often, at least, you did before the day you abruptly decided to move to Snezhnaya without a word to them. You hadn't seen them since and they didn't know where to send letters, you were essentially a ghost of their past. Your memory haunted them daily as they missed you dearly and you missed them too.

The wedding lasted days and days. A surprise to even you, but apparently that's tradition. Games and singing. There was dancing happening for what felt like hours. And drinking. So so so much drinking. With a feast that spanned almost an entire table, there was an abundance of alcohol to match.

You could hardly keep up with the festivities. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people being wed to a man you thought you knew. Childe wouldn't let you show your discomfort on your face, meeting your lips with a glass of whatever he was drinking, you'd gulp down even more and fall into that drunken dizziness. When the wedding ended, you don't exactly remember. It all became a blur near the end. But you remember waking up to Childe laying you down in bed, placing a kiss on your forehead and whispering words of praise to you that would've been comforting, had it not been for who he was.

Scaramouche

He always adored the way you looked in kimono. Today was no different. The pure white silk draped over your body was by far the nicest one he'd gifted you. Dolled up in traditional make-up, you felt so stiff with your now decadent appearance.

You'd feel less scared if he wasn't still wearing that same glare. That same look of anger and disappointment. Even though it was just the two of you in the room, you him and the officiant who would wed the two of you, he still glared at the man like one mistake would kill him. And it probably would.

Your hand shook as you picked up what looked to be the tea pot, something he made you practice time and time again to prepare just for today. Getting it wrong today would mean facing his wrath later, yet you still shook while pouring it into the small bowl. You watched with a pounding heart as you managed to spill some, dripping onto the floor and sinking between the wood.

Meeting his gaze and preparing for a scolding, you instead saw him lightly chuckle. Seldom did he smile and even more rare than that, did he actually laugh. The sight was even scarier than his usual glares, somehow his joy made him seem even more menacing.

“I expected this much from you,” he whispered into the silence. His nimble fingers gripped the rim of the bowl and he brought it to your lips, making you take a sip of the warm alcohol. It was bitter and disgusting, just as you'd remembered. When you swallowed your sip, he took one right after you, finishing off what was left in the dish, then sitting it to the side again.

Your names were signed onto a piece of parchment, a wedding document written in traditional Inazuma script. You couldn't read a word of it, but there was no worse contract than the one that said you'd be his lawfully wedded wife.

Scaramouche held your hand as the two of you walked out of the shrine, his fingers cold and his grip tight. It was such a beautiful day out. That was all you could think about as you were walked back to his carriage which would take you to his home. Your last day as a truly free woman, you were glad it was beautiful.

Always Under Skin, Even When it Gets Removed

Yandere! Childe x Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

Childe was a nuisance. Persistent. A vermin. Childe was a pest. Like an infestation of roaches, you could do everything in your power to get rid of him, but he'd still be somewhere nearby. Determination was one of his strongest traits, and he was determined to ruin you.

Being married to him was never in your cards and if you could've never met him at all, you would've been happy. Yet for almost a year, you were forced to be his doting wife. Only managing to steal yourself away after months of planning and a few close calls. The taste of free air, even if it was the air of Snezhnaya, was the best thing on your tongue, better than even your favorite food cooked to perfection.

You didn't think you'd live the life of a nomad, but it seemed easier. Paranoia was second nature to you now, and staying in one place seemed dangerous. He could be anywhere, around any corner, close by, but not showing himself until he knew it would fuck you over. Was living life on the road considered freedom? You didn't know, but anything would be better than another day with Childe.

“How far will this take me?” You held up a good ring to a carriage driver, making sure to keep your face covered beneath your hood. You took a lot when you left, mostly jewelry, things that were small and expensive.

He eyes the ring over before dropping it back into the palm of your hand, “It'll get you pretty far, but where are you even trying to go?”

“Anywhere is fine,” you said quickly.

The man helped you up into the back of his wagon, where he kept his wares. Mostly agricultural things, fresh produce and hay. It wasn't the best place you'd ridden before, but it was far from being the worst.

You understood why people were weary of you. You weren't making much of an effort to not come off as strange, but you weren't out to make friends. The wagon swayed as the sun began to set over the horizon, he didn't tell you how long he'd be driving and quite honestly, you didn't care. At the next port, you'd stow yourself away onto some other vehicle, never stopping, not even for a breath.

You let your head rest back against the hard wooden wall, you let your arms fall to your side, you let the movement of the wagon sway you to sleep. Morning would come and you'd be awoken by the well-known feeling of the carriage lurching to a stop and sunlight beaming through the cracks in the wall. Outside sounded like a bustling city, although you didn't know where, quite honestly it didn't matter.

“It's back here, sir,” you heard the voice of the carriage driver say as you watched shadows fall over the doorway. You can recognize Childe. Recognize his smell, his voice, a strand of his hair if you were to find one, and most importantly, you could recognize his footsteps. Slow, drawn out, and precise. Your blood went cold, noticing that the driver wasn't walking alone.

The door was slammed open and before you could even make a break for it, cold metal was pressed to your neck. Sharp enough to slice your head right off your body if you made any sudden moves, you could already feel the steel biting into your skin.

“Already running away again?” You didn't even want to look at him, but he used the tip of his blade to tilt your head up. Still wearing a smile as he looked down upon you, “I will admit, I'm proud of you. You managed to stay away longer than I expected,” the blade pushed a lot harder into your neck, “I missed you, my angel.”

You could say nothing as he took you by the hand, pulling you from the cart and onto the ground. You weren't treated gently, not when he was angry. His anger was a menace to deal with. The bigger the smile, the words his rage, and he looked practically elated to see you.

“You took everything, but this,” he tossed your wedding band down, it fell onto your body and landed on your thighs. The ring was warm, like he'd been clutching it in his hand. Knowing him, he probably hadn't let it go since he discovered you were gone.

Without much of an argument, you slipped the ring back on your finger. The small band felt more like a shackle, than something meant to adorn your body. With it, your taste of delicious, true freedom was ripped from your mouth almost as quickly as you'd gotten it. But you'd never get to taste it again.

Childe was all smiles and laughter as he helped you into his own carriage. That smile not reaching his dead, hollow eyes. The ride to Snezhnaya would be a long one, you wonder how long he could contain his anger till then?

Can we get a sneak peek of your WIPs?🥺👉🏻👈🏻

YES YES A MILLION TIMES YES!

Warning warning! 18+ Yandere themes, mentions of dub/non con! And the most depressing one of them all, I cannot guarantee when or if I'll finish these fics! Please proceed with caution.

Fancy Tea

Yandere! Ayato x Maid! Reader

Unnamed

Coffee Shop AU

Yandere! Barista Scaramouche x Reader!

Good Girl (It's supposed to be a series of docile readers)

Yandere! Scaramouche x Reader

Another addition of Yanderes sharing a Darling, but this one is Childe and Scaramouche

Devout

Yandere! Childe x Nun! Reader!

It's supposed to be another series but this one is kinda like a day in the life with your yandere husband type of thing (it sounds stupid when I put it like that)

How They Mark You as Theirs

Yandere x Fem! Reader

A/N: because I genuinely can't stop thinking about Scaramouche putting his makeup on you! It's been keeping me up at night.

Diluc: With jewelry

You sparkle when you walk into a room. Not just your glowing eyes or large, puffy dresses, but also what adornes your body. A pendant around your neck, large gem rings on your fingers, and earrings, more expensive than most could afford. People wondered if maybe all of your gems and stones were too heavy, maybe that's why despite the fact that you looked so lavish, you never smiled.

Diluc would be at your side, slipping another ring onto your finger. The other ladies would fawn at the sight, silently wishing for a man who wanted to adorn them with silver and gold, but to you, every ring, every stone, every bracelet, and every gem was another lock on the chain harboring you to him, claiming you as his.

Childe: With Bruises

Your neck is littered with love bites, your thighs covered in scratches from where his nails would dig into them, your wrist would have markings around them, from where he would hold you down, pressing passionate kisses and maybe more if he desired.

Even though you were embarrassed by the blatant proof of what he'd done to you all over your body, he still made sure you wore rather revealing clothing. You'd flush with embarrassed, knowing eyes looking all over you, but Childe would smile happily. A hand around your waist would caress you, making it known that he wished to claim you more.

Scaramouche: With make-up

How did everyone know that you were married to number six of the Fatui harbingers? Well, they had to look no further than your eyes, framed in that familiar red shade. The first time he makes you wear it, it's because you watched as he did his own. His nimble fingers held the brush like it was second nature, creating the lines against his eye with ease.

“Come here,” he'll order while still standing in front of the mirror. Before you can ask what he needs from you, he's already squeezing your cheeks between those same fingers, holding your face in place.

The brush tickles as it slides across your eyelids, making you shake a bit in his grasp as you hold back laughter. The smile on your face making his demeanor melt for just a moment, he softens and stops his work, just staring at your features, “I know how it feels. Stop moving,” he'll order. And you do your best to obey.

The sight of your smile is more than enough to make this a habit, instead of a one off thing. Everyday after your kimono dressing, he calls you to him, holding the brush stained with that familiar red makeup.

Do you think Childe would get jealous is reader spent to much time with the kids or would he just appreciate her not being miserable 24/7?

Childe is jealous because HE can't spend lots of time with the kids. He's unreasonably happy that you and the children get along so well, but he hates that it comes at the cost of him not having a place to fit in.

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Reader has children, yandere themes, general angst

It was a thought that lingered in his mind more than he wanted. Despite the fact that he was adamant that he wouldn't let it bother him, it still crept its way into his brain during moments of silence. It was eating away at him, the one thing that he couldn't fight off was going home every night and noticing it. Noticing the silence, the lack of toys splayed about, the lack of laughter, the mess.

When he was a child and even up until long past his teenage years, he remembered not being able to walk two steps in his home without stumbling over a toy or board game or even some mysterious mess. He's aware that he has significantly less adolescents in his own house now than he did as a kid, but it doesn't change the fact that his his kids are just so clean. and quiet. It's almost unnerving how little he sees of those existence in the home.

And when he returns, even if there is still sun beaming down on the packed snow of Snezhnaya, his son's will already be up in their rooms. Whether it's to nap or do some schoolwork, the second he steps foot into his own home, they become unavailable, shying away from him as if he were the monster under their bed.

“Why are the boy's always busy when I get home,” he asked over dinner. A quiet dinner of just you and him. He hadn't eaten a meal with his son's in months, almost as if you wanted him to forget their existence.

A look of fear crossed your face, then confusion, then a weak, fake smile. Those smiles of yours. Forced quivering lips and wide eyes, how much longer could you continue to smile at him like that? How much longer would he allow it?

“They're both still young, Ajax, they don't want to be under their parents constantly,” you tried to assure him, following your words up by filling your mouth with food to not have to say more.

“That's bullshit,” he slammed his fist down on the table, scaring you even more in the process. You could see that he was seething with rage, close to having an outburst before taking a deep breath to calm himself. Still, his words were slow and concise as he spoke against, a growl present in his voice, “You can't even sit Damon down for a minute without him crying till he's blue in the face.”

There was nothing you could say to disprove what he was saying. He was correct. Damon was typically glued to your hip, throwing fits whenever you let go of him. He was always a clingy child, vastly different to Adonis, who only wanted you around to show you a cool trick he'd learned or an art project he'd made. But both of them would grow pale when you said that their father would be returning home soon, and even if you wanted to, you couldn't make them leave the confines of their rooms, knowing that Childe was lurking around the corner.

“I want to see my sons,” he said without waiting for your response.

“They're probably long asleep by now,” another lie. You couldn't get Adonis to go to bed without a fight most nights. You knew he was still up, possibly playing with his action figures once again, but if he heard the sound of his father's footsteps coming up the stairs, he'd be in bed with no hesitation. You remember a night where he thought it was Childe instead of you opening the door to his bedroom. He was curled up in his comforter, with it pulled up to his eyes. Peeking at the door like he was expecting the Boogeyman.

“I won't go in tomorrow then. We'll have the whole day together,”

You had nothing to say back, but also no way of forcing the boys to spend time with him. Rather, you silently picked at your food, a lump starting to form in your throat. Dinner was eaten in silence, with you only occasionally stealing glances at your husband, who was still angrily eating. Your heart sank thinking of the ways the boys would cry, but knowing that there was nothing you could do for them. Except be there as he forced himself into their lives. He was doing to them as he'd done to you. And helplessly, all you could do was watch.

I was reading your latest Childe’s piece (the one where he was angry that his kids hadn’t had a dinner with him in months) and I noticed that you described how he knew that her quivering smile was fake and it lead me to think maybe the reason she faked smiling at him is because of hell? The one where she smiled at scaramouche nervously and Childe was fuming cause she never smiled at him so after that punishment she had to fake it cause she doesn’t want to go through that punishment again?

Maybe I’m reading too much into it but I had to tell you this.🧚🏻‍♀️

Not exactly, but I've always said that my stories can be interpreted however you want and I quite like that interpretation a lot.

But if you want to know what I was really going for, in terms of my Yanderes, I feel as if Childe is the most "domestic" of them all or at least he wants to be. Childe wants the wife and kids and a big happy family and the constant activities and things like that, but he's also extremely undeserving of it. Now obviously Childe has his traumas and he is a harbinger, so no one expected him to be completely sane, but none of his domestic life was gotten through normal means. His wife was kidnapped and his children fear him, because deep down they truly know that something isn't right.

I do believe this story is a precursor to one of his outburst, the reason for his lack of a domestic life despite how hard he seemingly worked for it. Just simply put, he's fucking scary. He knows as much because he knows who he is and what he's done, but he still wants a wife to smile at him and he still wants his children to hug his knees after a long day of work.

personally i do think childe should have more kids bc i absolutely refuse to believe this man would like ever pull out after the first kid

like before the first maybe he will, he wants you to himself, but once you already have one kid? it’s so over for you

your uterus will never know peace again

TW: pregnancy!!

Oh trust and believe me, he WANTS so so many more, but a simple...

"I'm so tired, Ajax," stops him dead in his tracks. He remembers how you looked when you nursed Adonis. So beautiful, so soft, skin silken, but your eyes told a whole nother story. Exhausted. You were more than tired, you were exhausted and your half lidded eyes told him as much.

Childe is cruel, but he isn't evil, and while he loves the prospect of a large family, he loves you more. He longs to see you swollen with child again, his heart fluttering as he remembers how cute you looked with Damon in your stomach. But then he remembers your morning sickness, your nausea, your mood swings and the pain you mentioned feeling. He wants more and he'll have more, but he'll let rest before he fills you again. He has all the time in the world with you, after all.

I think sometimes that Childe’s darling had miscarriages too, with all that stress he put her in she probably would experience a miscarriage but I still don’t know what his reaction would be to either blame her or himself for that. Maybe he would even accuse her of causing it intentionally idk he’s unpredictable🤷🏻‍♀️

-🧚🏻‍♀️

TW: Mentions of pregnancy, baby trapping

Reader actually has no miscarriages with Childe! If you're willing to believe that and she definitely couldn't try to force one either. Both children were indeed an accident though, with Damon being slightly less of an accident (?).

Adonis was conceived on consummation night, shortly after the wedding. It takes much too long for you to even realize you're pregnant, the stress of the entire situation weighing on you. But when you do, it's already a little too late. When you notice, Childe notices as well. And overjoyed doesn't even begin to describe what he's feeling. If there's one thing he is good at, it's caring for children, and that does include the one in your belly. You're pampered the entire time, but you're also, never ever left alone. He knows better than to trust you with his offspring.

Damon on the other hand, was partially planned, partially not. He was more spoken about as Adonis got older and less affectionate towards his father. Ajax would sulk and whine, begging you for another and insinuating that he wasn't going to use protection anymore. There are two ways I think it happened, either you gave in and relented, allowing him to put another baby in you or he had something you really really wanted, particularly, the chance to see your family who you missed oh so dearly.

Devout

Yandere! Childe x Fem,Nun! Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

TW: 18+ MDNI, Noncon, lots and lots of mentioning of religion, reader is a virgin, yandere, obsession, unprotected sex, finishing inside

Heavenly. What an on the nose way to describe you. Dressed head to toe in loose fitting, religious garb, your hair covered. All he could see was the skin of your hands and that heavenly face.

Such a sweet, welcoming smile and gentle voice was befitting of a nun. He could only imagine how many men you'd lured into your trap of giving donations with those assets of yours. Kindly praising them for whatever they could give like an owner to a dog. And he was another willing victim.

Your eyes went wide when he dropped the large bag of mora into your little basket. Your grip wavered a bit as the heavy coins weighed your little arms down, and all he did was smirk. He'd made himself known to you.

“What a generous donation!” You exclaimed. That pretty smile of yours, the way your eyes lit up. He resisted the urge to lick his lips while thinking about what he could do with that mouth, a lewd gesture to be doing right in front of a nun, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

He felt himself cock an eyebrow at your words. Pleasure? He supposed he gave pleasure to receive it. He eyed you up and down, he could see so little of you. The skirt down to your ankles left plenty to the imagination and imagine he did, “I suppose I'm trying to be new to the faith.”

A little white lie, but your smile growing wider made it worth it. If all nuns were as pretty and tempting as you were, he'd join the commune immediately.

“Lord Barbatos accepts all,” You said, holding the basket back out to him and implying that you wanted him to take his money back, “Don't give because you're new to worship. All that is given is accepted, but we will still take you with open arms.”

“I want to give you this much,” he said, a firm hand pushing the basket back, “and I want to give you so much more.”

Going to the city of freedom, a city known for its drinking and partying, just for the cathedral was quite the story amongst his subordinates. But Childe didn't care. The things he wanted to do with you weren't holy, but that was much better than a glass of wine and a song. If they knew the treat that stayed praying in the church day and night, they too would take to the faith.

Walking into the chapel, the first thing he was greeted with was the sight of you on your knees, praying to the statue of that absentee god. Filling that pretty mouth of yours felt like a better use of this time, you were already on your down there after all. But he decided against it. Not yet at least. Not when you were smiling at him so sweetly, motioning him closer to pray next to you.

Childe mentally asked the Tsaritsa for forgiveness, but still kneeled next to you. The Tsaritsa was a forgiving woman, he hoped that she would understand why he was praying to a false God. The way you were sitting on your knees, your round behind pressed against the heels of your feet, it made the fabric of your skirt press against your body. The curve of your ass, it was the first time he's seen it and he sucked air in through his teeth. He truly was being tempted, wasn't he?

“It's such an honor to see you, Ajax. Wasn't it?” Even the way you tilted your head in confusion was adorable. Typically he'd be upset if someone had forgotten his name, he didn't feel forgettable, but he was going to make you remember. Those plump lips of your would be calling his name over and over again, until it would be all you could say.

“Yes, it's Ajax,” he dropped the clasps of his hands and stood again, holding out an arm for you as well, “I was in the area again and decided to stop by for a prayer.”

A look of hesitance danced across that pretty face of yours as you debated whether or not to take his hand, before deciding against it. Instead, you chose to stand by yourself, a move that made him long for you even more. So he couldn't even feel the softness of your skin? Yet another ache in his groin, you were honestly trying to get him, weren't you?

“Forgive my rudeness, but we're discouraged from touching those of the opposite sex. Especially those who haven't taken vows, better to not tempt provocation,”

Vows? He'd assumed as much, but hearing you say it his pants grow even tighter. Temptation was you. You were such a pure soul, but you were sin. That body under all those clothes, he knew that it was erotic. He knew you felt lustful thoughts, that even you had ideas and thoughts that went against your virtue.

“I understand,” he spoke in a strained whisper, gripping the legs of his pants tight, “Do you think we can go somewhere private? I have a few confessions I need to make.”

You perked up once again, large eyes filled with enthusiasm, “Our father is holding a confessional if you'd like-”

“No,” he cut you off quickly, “I want to talk to you alone, do you think that's a possibility?”

There was a look of aversion in your eyes, clearly you were thinking about it. You looked like you wanted to tell him no, but your good natured heart and kind ways were fighting against what was right and what you felt like you needed to do as a nun.

“I'm…I'm not meant to take confessions, brother Ajax,” you said sweetly.

He stepped a bit closer to you, trying not to intimidate you, but also trying to press the importance. His length was hardening even more, his pants growing tighter. If you noticed, you didn't say anything, but of course, how would you?

“Please, it'll just be for a moment,”

Fearful eyes looked around the church before you motioned for him to follow you. Going against your God while in his home, you felt like you were committing a crime. But you couldn't leave a person in need behind. You're sure Barbatos would find it in his heart to forgive you.

“Please, make yourself at home here, dear brother,” you said while leading him through the door.

It was a simple room. An altar at the other end of the room, with a few candles and offerings and dim lighting. The room was scented with incense, a sweet smell that reminded him of the dandelion wine that Mondstadt was known for.

You lowered yourself onto your knees and motioned for Childe to follow you, “Please, kneel next to me, confess whatever you feel necessary,”

He sat down next to you, close enough to where his shoulder brushed against you. You flinched from this contact, but didn't say anything. A thought crossed your mind, so much space in the room and he chose to be right against you.

“Forgive me, I have sinned,” he said, but he never closed his eyes, never clasped his hands together, never lowered his head.

“Confess to me your woes,”

He sucked air in through his teeth, trying not to jump on you. Not yet. Not while you were looking at him so hopefully. So much trust. It only made him want you more.

“I've been having sinful thoughts,” he began, his eyes not leaving you, “Sinful to the point of being debilitating. They wreck my mind constantly.”

“Are these thoughts of harming others?” You asked, this didn't seem like the question of a clergy, but rather one of genuine curiosity.

He didn't look away from you, while his hand slithered down and he began palming his length through his pants, “They used to be. But now they're more deviant in nature.”

“Br-brother Ajax, such actions are- they are unbefitting for the church,” you said quickly, turning your head away to not see him as he defiled sacred ground with his actions.

“I need you, sister,” he leaned closer to you, whispering his words right into the shell of your ear. You squirmed at the feeling of his breath, such a cute reaction it was, and the yelp you let out when his hand gripped your ankle was even cuter. He tugged at your leg, pushing your back against the ground and leaning over you.

He'd seen fear like this before. Many times before. When he plunged a weapon into someone's chest, watching the life fade from their eyes, it was similar to the one you were making now. The tears, the muttered begging, even the way your lips quivered, it was all the same. So why now did it make his cock even harder in the confines of his pants?

Where would he even begin with you? Quite honestly, he didn't even know how to take your garb off. Instead, he took to ripping it, right at the neck. Pulling it apart straight down the middle until every inch of your torso became visible to him. Your breasts were covered in a basic bra. Normally he was the type to prefer more intricate lingerie to entice his urges, yet something about the simplicity of your undergarments made him hiss air in through his teeth. It was like you knew for certain that nothing was happening, yet he still was forcing you to show him.

“Stop! You can't do this!” You cried, trying to cover yourself in what scraps of your dress you could find.

He was gentle as he touched you this time, fingertips stroking your cheek, but his words following were harsh and deathly serious, “Don't fight me, I wouldn't want to hurt you,”

“Heavenly father, I ask that you forgive me…” you began to mutter to yourself in prayer. Laying there, hands clasped and teary eyes shut as you felt him trace up and down your thigh with his tongue. The feeling of his saliva, going up to your stomach, one of his hands cupping your breast before ripping the fabric of your bra away, it made you sick to your stomach. Your pebbled nipples hitting the cold air were quickly sucked into his mouth, a pleasure never experienced before washing over your body. You shuddered, much to his approval.

He wanted to go slower. He wanted to tease you for hours before taking you. He wanted to make you cum over and over, proudly showing how lewd you truly were to your false God, but even he has grown impatient. Trying to win you the right way just wasn't working and he needed to feel you, as deeply as possible, the girl he'd fantasized about night after night.

The way your eyes widened when he dropped his pants was cute. When you tried to look away from his hard cock that was dripping precum onto your cunt, still begging with those sweet lips, it was even cuter. But the way you went silent, the way the world seemed to stop from you the second you felt the head of his cock against your opening, that was the cutest. He loved the look in your eye. The look of visceral fear. It was a look of knowing. Knowing that after he was finished with you, you'd have nowhere to go, but to him.

You only began truly fighting him off when he began pushing the head of his cock into your warmth. So tight and soft, no matter how hard you hit him, you couldn't make him leave your insides. When he bottomed out inside you, feeling your walls clench around every inch of his cock, he hissed. Face to face with you now, nestled deep within you, he kissed your wet cheeks. Childe wasn't one for love making, but he couldn't help but to be tender with you. His thrusts were slow, but deep, making sure you tasted all of him.

“Hush, little angel,” he cooed softly to you, while wiping away more of your tears. Your little sobs were agonizing to his heart, yet his cock only twitched harder, “It'll be over soon.”

And you nodded. Such a sweet thing. You nodded and let yourself go to him. He didn't take this as a sign to be rougher though. No. He couldn't. Not to you. He continued his same pace, softly humming to you and shushing you when you got too loud. He wanted to pound your insides, to fuck you brutally, but that would be for later.

Little sobs left your lips as your nails dug into the carpeted floor beneath you. He was still going slow. Thrusting in and out skillfully, his hand tenderly gripping your face and making you look him in the eye, any time you tried to look away, he'd just force your head back.

“I'm cumming soon, okay?” He muttered against your lips, kissing you gently afterwards.

With your mouth engulfed in his, you couldn't beg him to please not finish inside you. Instead, your body flailed beneath him, trying to get him off as you felt the thrust of his hips speed up and become more greedy. You felt him grip you tighter, you felt his moans grow louder against your lips. And all you could do is sit in horror as you felt his hips falter, his pace slow down, and his cock twitch even more as it pumped hot cum deep inside your.

Childe pulled away from the sloppy kiss, your lips covered in saliva and he smiled. You'd never seen such evilness until you looked into his eyes, proudly looking down at your cunt where the cum was seeping out. I'm your mind, you were saying another prayer, but you weren't sure if anyone was listening.

“Guess I have to marry you now,” he chuckled with a playful pat against your thigh. But despite the smile on his face you knew he wasn't joking.

Yanderes x Manipulative Reader

Imagine knowing exactly how a yandere feels about you. Knowing their love. Their lust. Their obsession. Imagine not being scared. It's a daunting idea at first, that someone can adore you to the point of pure devotion. But it doesn't have to be frightening...

Diluc who knows he's only being used for his money. You only come around when you're low on funds or wanting to buy something expensive. He knows this, yet he still hands you everything in his pockets gleefully. He's well aware of how little you care for him, yet the way your eyes glimmer as he signs his name on the back of a check and hands it to you makes him swoon. Diluc wants more of you. He wants every part of you. He desires you carnally, long past the point of obsession, but the only thing you offer in return to the thousands he spends on you, is a light peck on the cheek. And he finds himself looking forward to spending on you, just for the gentle touch of your lips on his face.

Childe who knows that your saccharine sweet words are nothing more than a ploy, seeing as you look at him in general disgust most times. A harbinger such as himself is awfully powerful, and not only that, but influential as well. He stands along side you as you brag, using his status to get more consumers to your business. But the second his hand snakes around your waist, he watches your smile faulter. You'll kiss him, but only on public. Never has he even held you behind closed doors. Chaste kisses against the lips, lasting only for a second are followed by you practically ignoring him for the rest of the night. While he longs for a little of your attention, waiting for the next taste of your sweetness. Yet he can't pull himself from your hold. He stands there seething with rage as he watches you smile at someone else, knowing that that smile is genuine, compared to the false ones you give him.

Scaramouche who's cold eyes and deathly stare always seem focused on you, yet you don't seem the least bit scared. He's loyal. Like a dog, despite his cat like features, he follows close behind you. It never shows on his face how much he needs you. He never even speaks the words aloud that he'll always always be there for you, but you found out eventually. At your every beck and call, without a moments notice. He does for you what most aren't willing to, the only price is your love. Love that he felt he's been denied for so long. It's no surprise that the second you give him even the slightest bit of positive attention, he's willing to make cities crumble for you. To take lives for your words of affection.

Maids, maids…and even more maids

Being the Maid at a Yandere's Estate

FT: Kamisato Ayato, Childe, Diluc, and Scaramouche

Master Kamisato Ayato is quite the funny man. That's what you'll tell the other maids in quick bits of gossip. He has a surprisingly good type of humor that just falls from his mouth and a very very soft laugh, but of course, you can barely gossip as long as you want to. A ringing of a bell signifies that the master has called for you again, something he's been doing regularly these past few months.

“You're the only one I can trust to clean my quarters,” he told you once before. His quarters being his office and his bedroom. Even though he says that, he never leaves the room while you're cleaning. Rather he's there, pretending to be doing other tasks as you dust his shelves and sweep the floors. You wonder if he thinks that you can't feel his eyes on you? The second you look down, he's looking right at you, practically burning a hole through you with his gaze. It wasn't noticeable at first, but it grew worse the more that he insisted that only you could clean for him personally.

Your daily cleaning for him ends with him patting you on the back, his arms lingering around your waist for a little too long.

“You did incredible, as usual,” he'll praise you, “But don't be shy to come and see me outside of work hours.”

Master Ajax, or Childe as he's referred to by others, is rarely home. You wonder if that humble manor he has in Snezhnaya is just for show. Of course, you seldom get to see it too.

Whispers amongst your fellow coworkers told you that before you were hired, Childe didn't bring anyone with him on his trips. It made you question why you needed to pack your bags every time he was taking a trip to another city, as he insisted that you would come with him and be his personal maid for the duration of it.

He never treated you poorly and never took you anywhere dangerous. You were usually the one just holding down the fort and tidying at whatever inn he decided to stay at. But even you acknowledged the fact that you felt like you were a little too close to your employer. He'd take you out with him, you'd try to trail behind, but he'd make you walk closely at his side. And never once did he correct people when they assumed you were his wife. Actually, if you looked at his face after someone made the mistake, you'd see a smirk forming.

“What's wrong with being married to me?” He would joke, although his smile wasn't reaching his eyes, “I think I'm a pretty good catch. Don't you?”

Master Diluc doesn't leave his office often. The other maids talk in hushed whispers about how they worry that he may be working too much. Seeing him roaming the halls is like seeing a ghost. This also means that he partakes in most of his meals at that desk as well.

He invites you to sit with him one day, saying that he doesn't enjoy eating his meals alone and seeing as he is your boss, you agree. One day turns into nearly every day of your work week, and when asking your coworkers about it, they seem surprised.

“Master Diluc barely speaks to me when I deliver his meals,” one girl says and the other's agree shortly after.

It seems strange to you as you also slowly eat your food across from him. You'd taken to eating your meal as well, even though it wasn't you designated meal time. He assured you that you were still being paid for the moments you sat with him. When you question why you're the only maid that he shares his meals with, a slight grimace crosses his face.

“Does it matter?” He asks you, almost a little too harshly for the gentle Diluc you know, “I'm paying you to spend time with me. Only you.”

Lord Scaramouche who only needs a couple maids. He's rarely home anyways and when he is he doesn't leave his room often, doesn't take to meals, and doesn't call for anything more than a cup of tea. Although even you're surprised when less and less maids show up for their shifts, until it's only you that resides within the walls.

It's rather lonesome when you realize that your only company is now the quiet lord Scaramouche, who barely meets your eyes most days, and when he does speak, he says some form of insult. It's only when you're out for a grocery run that you run into a previous maid of the manor, chatting happily with the first person who'll talk to you.

When asked why they all decided to quit, she tilts her head in complete confusion, “We didn't quit. We were fired, all of us.”

It's a short sentence that confuses you even more. And your walk back to the manor is filled with thoughts. Bringing lord Scaramouche his meal that night, you decided to ask why you were the only help left in his lonesome abode. Assuring him that you're not complaining and that the job isn't too difficult.

“Must you always ask stupid questions?” He spits the words out, “Your presence doesn't bother me like the others so you get to stay. Don't take it for granted.”

Any new yandere Childe stuff here or there?👀 tell us anything about him, I’m all ears for it.

This is all I've got 😭😭

Am soo happy to see your back even if it's just for a short while I hope your doing okey and that everything is good with life and work 😊 i wanted to ask if it was possible how do you think Yan Scara would react if reader got sick ? Would he be worried ? Would he try to tend to them or leave it to the doctors and servants ?

Again thank you so much for taking time for us 💕

My asks are FULL of this exact same question, I'm not joking 😭😭 so I just wrote all of them.

Sick Day

Yandere! x Fem! Reader

Featuring: Diluc, Childe, and Scaramouche

Diluc spent most of his life taking care of himself. Before and after the passing of his father, he was independent to a worrying degree for a young child. So when he got sick, he paid it little mind. He took the proper medicine and if the fever was mild enough, he'd still be sitting at his desk filing his mountains of paperwork. The only indication that he was unwell being the slight rasp of his voice and flush of his cheeks.

But that was because Diluc didn't care much for his own well-being. His body wasn't useful for much other than work, but only he believed that. The day you wake up with a cough and runny nose, mentioning to the head maid that you can't leave the bed because you're so lightheaded, Diluc is in shambles. The second the news makes it to his ears that you're under the weather, he's rushing to your bed chambers, at your side even when you don't want him.

Diluc can't stand the idea of losing you. You can hate him until Teyvat freezes over, it hurts, but at the very least he knows you're well. So the second you fall ill, a part of him feels shame for his inability to protect you, the other feels a visceral fear that you won't be around anymore.

For days you're catered to in bed. Not just by maids, but Diluc too. You're given soft, warm foods and plenty of water. Your temperature is taken three times a day by a doctor, who insists that if you're not awake to eat, you should sleep more to regain your strength. You wondered how much Diluc threatened him to get him to say the same thing over and over.

The day that you're deemed well and cleared to roam the manor freely again, is supposed to be a joyous one for you. As much as you love your room, you were growing sick of the wallpaper and you could only look at the same painting so many times before it frustrated you instead of entertaining. But overbearing Diluc is still around, watching you with worried eyes and begging you to take breaks to rest after every three steps you take.

Ajax is the epitome of an old wife when it comes to health remedies. With all of his siblings, some of which he ended up taking care of as he got older, he picked up a thing or two from the way his mother cared for him when he was sick. Her remedies, while strange to those from other countries, always had him in tiptop shape in a day or two.

It didn't help that you didn't hail from Snezhnaya. Liyue got cold, but even the hottest day in Snezhnaya was colder than the coldest in Liyue. Your body would have to acclimate to your new climate, meaning that even if he tried to keep you warm at night with the fireplace roaring and many blankets, all it would take was a little Snezhnayan air tickling your nostrils to make you wake up with a cold.

Using what his mother taught him and what her mother taught her before, he woke you up from your sleep when he noticed your runny nose and tears in your eyes. Pressing a hand against your forehead to check your temperature, all while your dreary eyes slowly blinked, wordlessly begging for more sleep.

“You'll rest soon, my angel, but I need you to drink this first,” Childe spoke in the softest voice he could muster, so as not to intensify your headache.

He knew something was wrong with you, the way you took the cup from his hands and downed without batting an eye. The little grimace your face made when the vodka hit your tongue was cute, but he tried not to get lost in your features while you were still sick and needy for assistance. His mother did a lot of things when he fell ill, but a shock of vodka was always the first, you were out cold after swallowing it down.

Despite his love for you, Ajax doesn't worry when you're sick. He believes that sickness is just one of the many battles of life and that there's no way you won't succeed in conquering it. Even after you're better, Childe insists that the two of you do some light exercises together. You can complain that it's your first day healthy, but he won't listen. Strengthening your body will keep you from getting sick again.

Even though he's lived for hundreds of years, Scaramouche doesn't quite understand the human body. Improper conditions for a prolonged time will just make you cease to work? And in the most inconvenient way possible as well? It's annoying and far too inconvenient.

Or, that's what he told himself. But when he looks over at you that first morning when you're sick, sweay pooling on your forehead and seemingly unable to breathe, something tugs at his heart. He feels something for you, watching as even in your dreams you're writhing in pain. Scaramouche feels pity. He assumes it's something he can only feel towards you because his heart sings for you.

“What are you doing?” Scaramouche questions a maid who he bumped into in the hallway.

Even though she carried a bowl of water in her hands, she still found a way to bow, “I received news that the Lady has a fever, my lord. A towel soaked in cold water on her forehead will help break it.”

He hummed. He'd heard of such things, but never thought that he himself would see them being used. A sense of urgency took over him when he realized that this would help you though, a need to be the one doing it for you.

“She'll be more comfortable with someone she's familiar with. Let me do it,” he ordered while snatching the bowl from her hands.

She opened her mouth to question him, but he shot her a glare before she could. He marched back to his room promptly, kneeling beside you as you slept. As the maid said, the cool towel did work. You seemed less pained when he placed it on your forehead.

After that moment, Scaramouche insisted he be the one doing everything for you while you were sick. Feeding you ginger soup, changing your blankets, nursing you back health without any assistance. All because he assured everyone that you'd be more comfortable with him doing it, although you rarely even opened your tired eyes the entire time you were getting better, so you had no idea who was cradling you in their arms and insisting you eat more.

When you're better, you're under the assumption that the maids are the ones who helped you, knowing that while you're sick you're practically comatose. But they insist that it wasn't them, saying that Lord Scaramouche himself cared for you and stayed by your side the entire time.

He'll never admit it though, brushing you off by saying something along the lines of, “Why are you saying such stupid things?”