・✶ ｡ﾟtighnari Doesn’t Think Anything Will Come Close To How You Feel Against Him, But He’ll

the long forgotten sensation of a little hand in your own

okay so I just read your post on genshin men if you go quiet , here me out.... What if you are a quiet person in bed? How would they react ??? Like would they pound into you until you scream or would they be content with it??

Oh boi they would have a field day with you regardless of whether you are quiet or not..

They are scrutinizing every little twitch of your body. In their head, they are mapping all the spots that make you tremble. If they find your sensitive spot, you are in for a ride. They love a challenge but when you finally finally let out a sweet moan, they go feral. You sound, oh so sweet. They are almost mad at you for hiding your moans. So, they go harder, so rough, desperate for you. It's enough for you to grab them as you scream for them.

- childe, scara, ayato, kaeya, itto

It was a lost game when you see how determined and desperate they are for your cries. No, they won't stop until you are moaning into the sheets. When you finally open your swollen lips to whimper their name, they are murmuring praises into your ears. They would fuck every sweet sound out of you with scary precision coz they are greedy for you.

- kazuha, zhongli, albedo, thoma, dainsleif

⸸ I am Here — Part Two ⸸

(An AU of Lobotomy Corporation where I made an ALEPH-class abnormality into a flesh doggy. A lot of OOC and fanon are to be expected.)

Pairing: [Insert] x O-06-20 (Nothing There)

Warning: body horror, gore, violence

Word Count: 1 200+

Description: O-06-20 was only a simple creature. It craved affection, attention. These were things it unfortunately couldn't lose interest in even long after it stopped wearing its canine shell. Not even after its old master, its 'best friend'—its first ever companion—abandoned it.

Note: I decided to write this in a way that the first part isn't needed (though if you wish to read it, here it is). Inspired by the creature from the 'The Thing' and a certain anon's request for headcanons

Consider this the backstory behind O-06-20. Whereas, the first part was written from the perspective of the human, this one and henceforth will be read from the creature's.

Anyway, enjoy~

.

.

.

The creature only wore the shell of a human.

As such, it didn't know how to act like one.

Humans were complicated creatures. The slightest crinkle in their face, and the movement of their body could create a variety of combinations that each meant its own emotion.

The fact that they could swing from one feeling to another like a pendulum only made it much more difficult for the creature to follow.

Not to say that it was incapable of feeling anything. But for something so primitive, it could only categorized emotions into three. Contentment, aggression, and fear.

Because like all animals with a will to survive, the creature, too, could feel those things.

But to think that there was a time when humans could also...'love' it. That seemed like such a long time ago.

It was a word the creature learned from a certain man, back when he used a thick-furred canine as a shell. Unbeknownst to its owner, that his animal companion was already dead, and an imposter had simply taken its place. If he knew, it doubted he would have welcomed its presence.

Every day, that man told the creature, 'I love you, Buddy', and gave him back scratches and belly rubs. Though it didn't understand what those sounds meant...those were undeniably better times compared to now.

Hidden beneath the earth, locked inside concrete and lead-lined rooms, fear and aggression were the only two emotions it saw humans ever express since it arrived.

The first person to visit the creature since it had been imprisoned was a coward. They kept staring at it with those wide eyes as if they were a prey looking out for ambush.

So, the creature treated them as such, tearing off their limbs to replace its decomposing ones.

The second one was just as weak-minded as the last. But despite their obvious fear, they dared to try and touch it, the creature's new addition to its shell.

Without a second thought, it crushed their skull before their hand could even touch it. However, it liked how blue their eyes were. It reminded the creature of a time when the human man used to bring it with him to go on walks together. When the skies weren't blocked by the smog...it was a beautiful blue.

So, the creature took their eyes and used it to replace his brown ones.

The third human never touched the creature. Instead, they were determined to focus all their attention on the funny looking holes in the ceiling that had clogged up from all the blood and gunk of his kills.

So far, the creature had only ever killed because they were too tempting not to. But this one...

Least to say, it didn't like being ignored.

That was when the creature realized what this feeling was, and instinctively, it knew just what to do.

The creature barked at the human the same way it used to at the man. He always gave the creature pets and treats when it did those, but...why was this human only running away from him?

Perhaps if it were to run over and lick them?

The creature considered it, but then, out of nowhere, the human pulled out something from their suit.

It was an odd shaped thing. Small, yet the human pointed it at the creature like it could somehow defend them from it. It wouldn't, of course. Not with something so pitifully weak and small. However, the creature recognized what that miniature weapon was.

And it brought a terrible memory to mind.

It remembered the liquid welling up in the man's eyes. The nonsensical sounds he spouted to himself like 'sorry', and, 'he's not your buddy anymore'. But most of all, it remembered the way his hands trembled as he held that...thing.

It remembered the loud bang after a press of his finger.

It remembered how deafeningly quiet everything sounded. Not even the sound of its shell collapsing onto the floor was heard.

It remembered looking down at the blood trailing down its chest and feeling...nothing. Absolutely nothing.

At the memory of that day, the feeling gnawing within its chest earlier vanished. Now, it was replaced by that sensation of that bullet wound. Hollowness.

So the creature degloved them and made their supple skin its new shell.

The humans after were a nuisance. All of them. So, it killed, slaughtered, butchered their carcasses. It made mangled messes out of all of them, leaving nothing but their arms, legs, kneecaps, intestines, eyes, or whichever body part caught its fancy.

Yet at the same time, it craved something. Something that wasn't physical to replace its perpetually decomposing shell. It knew what this craving was, yet the very thought of it sickened the creature.

It was an emotion, a desire, a need that it never had until it wore that canine as a shell. A fatal mistake, really, since now, it could only be suffering from an absurd affliction.

The thing that humans called 'loneliness'.

The creature knew what it was. Like how a cat knows it is a carnivore and how a bird knows it can fly, it knew loneliness shouldn't be something it could feel.

It was as if that part of the canine's shell latched onto its core and refused to leave. Like a parasite, the shell was altering its host's needs to fit its own.

How inconveniencing. To look for companionship from the very creatures it saw as spare parts for its body. Next, the creature would discover every herbivore in the world suddenly began eating meat.

Still, it looked for it. Whatever it was that could take away this affliction.

Everyday, he tested its visitors. If they failed...well, they either die or survive to see another day. It all ultimately depended on how much they irritated the creature. The likelihood of finding this cure was almost impossible. After all, not even the creature itself knew what it was looking for.

But on the day it met them, the moment it saw them smile and heard them speak in such a gentle tone...it knew it finally found it.

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

The human had one knee on the floor.

"Hey there...boy?"

Again, it didn't know what the human was saying, but judging by the way they were looking at it, they must be talking to it.

To say the least, hey were...unusual.

Everyone else before them had flinched, winced, or scrunched their nose upon seeing the creature's appearance. This one...this one looked at them as if they saw no wrong.

Or perhaps they were only trying their hardest not to look like it.

Still, the creature had to give them credit for it. Besides, this one hadn't done anything to hurt it...yet. The human even tried communicating.

So, the creature wagged its tail, exactly the same way it used to when it wanted to make the man smile. And without warning, it ran over to them.

It felt curious. Would the human run? Scream? Freeze completely? If they were to take them by surprise, perhaps they would finally drop the façade of bravery and act like the weak prey that they were.

Maybe they would even pull out that thing.

Except...none of those happened.

Much to its confusion, the human raised their arms, not to defend themselves but to embrace the creature?

So, the creature licked them—because it didn't really know what else it should do in that situation. Licking had always worked on humans before, so why shouldn't it now?

And as it hoped, the human began petting them.

The same way that man used to.

This was nothing like what they expected at the beginning, but...it wasn't unwelcome either.

Under their touch, it felt its many blue eyes flutter shut, feeling soothed by their presence. It wasn't that they could feel the graze of their fingers, nor their warmth. The shell had already lost all senses and functions the moment the creature killed its host.

It just felt...comforting.

Comforting, because it now knew that there was someone else other than the man to do things like this.

Comforting, because even though they knew it was merely an imposter, they treated it as if it were still a real creature. Like it was there.

When was the last time the creature felt like that?

It had been too long.

Far.

Too.

Long.

~~~~~~ End of Part Two ~~~~~~

.

.

.

Me, seeing the notes of Part One, while still haven't yet started the first draft on Part Two:

Haha, anyway, thank you for having read this far. I hope you are still staying in tune for the next and possibly last part of I am Here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, others have tried to make this their home.

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

Keep reading

pretty bunny yan!tighnari x bunny!reader (bunny reader brainrot send thirst)

----------------------------------------

"oh bunny~"

his voice purred into your ear as he folds your legs over against you, pressing you into a mating press. his cock prods at your hole, smearing the pre against you.

"my sweet bunny, wont you be mine?"

he looks into your eyes, waiting for your response. your ears folded over and you grab them, pulling them over your face to hide how red youve gotten. one of his hands comes up and grabs yours, pinning it to the bed.

"i said.. wont you be mine, bunny?"

you still dont answer, too shy to speak. he tisks and thrusts himself into you harshly, setting a quick and deep pace right at the start.

"come on, we're perfect for each other. both in the midst of our ruts.. together~! its like fate was pulling us together. nng! youre so tight, so perfect for me, youre so perfect, be mine, be mine please, wont you be mine?"

you cant hide the moans spilling from your lips. hes right, you're both in the middle of your heats. he could smell it in the air, pleading you to let him breed you because it was just too hard to resist. with your clouded mind, you couldnt think of anything else but his cock going into you, so you agreed.

he pressed you into the mattress and went harder, letting out a strained moan. he couldnt help himself. his ears flattened against his head and he continued to spew out dirty words, calling you his bunny.

"my bunny.. my bunny.. i have thoughts about you.. dirty dirty thoughts.."

you cry out as you start to feel a warmth build up in your stomach.

"close! m close,,"

"fuck-"

tighnari's hips went faster, his teeth sinking into the flesh of your neck. he wants to mark you so everyone knows youre his.

"nari! n-nari!" you squeal, moaning out.

he groans hearing that nickname coming from you. with a few last thrusts of his hips, you both cry out in ecstasy. but does this stop him from pounding into you? not at all <3

thinking about being apprentice to a tailor in mondstadt; perhaps with one with a sterling reputation, who deals with the elite, the powerful, and anyone who can afford to have their clothes tailored instead of simply making do and mend.

measuring up diluc’s inseam, when your master tells you to do that because he’s getting old and his hands are cramping, and how diluc’s cheeks flood red at it. carefully wrapping your tape measure about jean’s bust whilst she remains as stately and as self-assured as ever, though you can see her eyes look heavy and your gentle touches seem to make her want to fall asleep. feeling kaeya’s muscles flex beneath his loose shirt as you measure the span of his back and he chuckles and says ‘don’t be scared, sweetheart. you can get up close and personal with me, i don’t mind a bit’. fingers brushing lisa’s bare thigh over her stockings as you check a hem-line and you begin to get all flustered whilst she just smiles knowingly down at you.

ah. how often you find yourself wordless and embarassed. how much gossip you must pick up on. and how intimately you have grown to know certain details about people (kaeya asks for his trousers to cling tightly to his rear. diluc’s shirts need more give across the shoulders to allow for ease of movement wielding a claymore. lisa has a mole on her right breast that she prefers her neckline cover up. albedo’s shorts need to be let out in the crotch area, or they’re too tight for him there and he risks letting people see more of him than they should)–

iii. to the enduring emperor: pity, pity... | yan zhongli x reader

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

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

notes: heavy hints of guizhong x reader and zhongli x guizhong. good things come in threes, after all, and i'm always soft for a triangle. finally, all the bird imagery tie back together. part iv will probably swing back into the present, but no promises because sometimes the plot bunnies hold me hostage. feedback and comments very much appreciated!

word count: 3.8k

Your memory may not be as good as that of Rex Lapis, but you will forever remember this: your Vision, its muted glow a stuttered heartbeat. And all of this, clenched in his hand, awaiting his judgement.

The Archon War ends, and the Lord of Geo ascends to take his seat among the Seven. A close final encounter, close enough to brush upon the borders of even the ever-safe Liyue Harbour. No matter your sovereign’s original plans, you had to take up your sword and fight—shielded under his wings, perhaps, but at least you have played your part.

And after it all, when Morax is called to Celestia, your exhausted body crawls toward Guili Plains. Your first home was here, before the demise of your Lord of Dust. Under the swaying shade of its familiar trees, the croon of songbirds lulls you into a fitful sleep, into dreams of old and melancholic memories.

With a start, your eyes fly open. You wake to the cacophony of birds, peaceful melodies morphed into warning screeches. The flap of wings as they take flight by the dozens, dots disappearing into the horizon. Stray feathers float down, drifting absentmindedly. The dreams slip through your mind, dust through sieve, lost to the void.

But. There is a weight on your forehead. A feeling of suppression. Not unlike the breath that catches in your throat, when your sovereign pins you down with his amber irises.

Strange. You look up toward the heaviness. The glimmer of a clear, teal gem. It is balanced perfectly between your eyebrows. Placed right above the diamond of your third eye.

You pluck it off your face, holding it against the sun. It sparkles, almost blinding you as you peer into its depths. The incandescent light of the Anemo Symbol from its centre greets your scrutiny.

A Vision. An acknowledgement from the Celestial gods.

But the Archon War has just concluded. The dust has already settled long ago. A Vision, but too little, too late.

Celestia has always had a twisted sense of humour. They had already taken so much from you, and now, to grant this? What had you done to earn their favour? Slaughter and kill and watch as others die in your place. That’s all you’ve accomplished in this millennia-long war.

It’s a heavy little thing. You would discard it into the depths of the ocean, never to be seen again… if not for one thing. The only reprieve you find in the sudden appearance of your Vision is its symbol. Its colour. The teal of Anemo—not the yellow of Geo.

Not amber.

The glowing pulse of your Vision sings the truth: you were not his. Not completely.

The adepti have no need for Visions. The inner eye is a sort of vision by itself. A third eyes that roots deep within the soul, it was more than enough to manipulate the elements. After all, the misty clouds already obeyed your every whim. A crook of your fingers, and vapours become docile and obedient, warping and bending to your will.

You were not always an adeptus. But all those years of cultivation in search of immortality… they have not been for nothing. The journey toward becoming an immortal had been long and arduous, but it was worth it.

If only to see the smile on Guizhong’s face.

After all, it is her who finds you first. A little oriole, injured by the wild winds that slammed you into thorny wood, ripping your wings into shreds. You can barely see anything, eyes having been slashed by the sharp branches. So you are left to your fate on the ground, trying to hide your injuries. To show weakness was to invite predators. With every howl of the wind, your little heart flutters in fear.

When a particular strong gust of wind blasts into your injured wings, a weak screech of pain accidentally escapes. You gather your leftover strength, puff your feathers up for a fight, regret so heavy in your breast.

But then. A sudden swirl of dust. You’re scooped up in warm hands. When you begin to struggle against their hold, a soft voice croons in your ears, as melodious as any birdsong. A woman. “Be still, little one. I only seek to help.”

Her voice is mesmerizing. You’ve never heard anything like it. Its notes resonate into your hollow bones. Trust me, it said, and you chirped your agreement. Settled as still as a corpse into her hands. Folded your wings and obeyed. Folded yourself into her keeping. A docile, tamed songbird.

“To have understood me so well,” the voice murmurs, “you’re a clever little thing, aren’t you?”

You meet your other lord soon after, after being carried away by dust. In those days, he was a little less contained. A little less tempered by time and experience. Still rough around the edges when it came to emotions and tact.

The one who first found you cups her hand around you, a soft and gentle force hiding you from view. As she approaches him, she calls out, “Guess what I found in my outing among the glaze lilies, my lovely Morax?”

A long silence. And then finally, the one who calls himself Morax says, “I have a million guesses, but they are just that. I do not know, Guizhong.” Words deep and grating, as if it were stone rumbling. Groundbreaking. It is only your saviour’s—Guizhong’s—firm hold that prevented you from thrashing and pecking.

You did not like his voice. Its low pitch is the sound of a songbird’s nightmare: the gaping earth opening to swallow you whole, feathers and bones and all. No, you did not like his voice—and in particularly trying times, millennia into the future, you still don’t.

Guizhong opens her hand, and you stare blearily into the light. Vision blurred, all you can make out is a tall, shadowy figure leaning closer and closer. And then you see it. Glowing, sunset eyes. Diamond pupils. A heavy, scrutinizing stare. The eyes of a predator, appraising the weakness of its prey.

You burrow deeper into Guizhong’s palms, a warning cry jerked out of your weak lungs. “Shhh,” she says, stroking your head, before scolding, “Do lessen your glare, Morax. The poor thing is so frightened already, and you are not helping.”

“I do not glare,” he states, but backing away from you.

Relief bubbles in your chest from his retreat. Guizhong laughs at his words, pealing bells ringing in your ears. “You do. You just don’t realize it, for you are always glaring.”

“Hm. I will keep your advice in mind.”

“Then I am glad. Now come and help me figure out how to bandage these wings. I’ve never been good at tending to wounds.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “You plan on keeping it?”

“Just until it learns to fly again, Morax.” She shakes her head at his words. Protests quietly, “And it is not so much keeping, as it is sheltering. There is a difference.”

He stares at you long and hard, contemplating Guizhong’s words. You shrink back, and he finally says, “I see.”

Years later, when you are once again suppressed under his gaze, you will wonder if he was telling the truth. If he truly did see.

Under the protection of two gods who complement each other as the sun complements the moon, the Guili Assembly in those years were prosperous and peaceful. And under Guizhong’s—and Morax’s—gentle care, you soon recover your strength. But when it comes time to set you free, when it comes time to leave, you merely stare at Guizhong.

Her words are encouraging. “Go on. I know you have fully recovered. Learning to fly again is not so difficult, for those destined for the skies. And I know you to be cleverer than most of your kind.”

You feel Morax’s gaze more than you see it. It was not so heavy in those days, moderated by Guizhong’s admonition. Not heavy enough to deter you, at least. In fact, there was a burst of fondness in your chest for the man who had wrapped your wings, rough hands so nimble yet cautious in its touch.

So you do not leave. Instead, you take to the air. Wings flap above Morax’s head, and then Guizhong’s head, before folding as you land on her shoulder. You nuzzle your head into the crook of her neck, trilling a song of gratitude. You stare into Morax’s eyes, the first time you felt courageous enough to do so, and it is also the first time you see him soften.

Guizhong smiles in response. “You do not wish to leave, little songbird?”

You hop from one leg to the other. Tilt your head a little in confusion. You let out a cry, quiet and mournful. Did she not want you? Did she have no need for an oriole? No need for your song? It is the only thing you have to offer.

Guizhong chuckles. “Rest your imagination. I did not say anything of the sort. However, while I do not mind your company, you will have to ask Morax too.” She lowers her voice conspiratorially. “We come in a pair, you see. The Guili Assembly is named as such for a reason, after all.”

You consider her proposal. And then you brace yourself. A determined look in your eyes as you take flight toward the stony figure. You do not rest on his shoulder as you do Guizhong. But when you flap your wings in front of him, waiting for a response, Morax raises his hand.

Fingers curl into a makeshift perch, and you land your talons on his flesh, taking care not to dig. Not that it would have mattered to stone. A songbird’s claws would have tickled rather than hurt. “Hello there,” he says carefully, eyes less piercing than you remember from your initial meeting.

You chirp back. His voice is not so grating now. Stone can also sing, you find. Beneath the dissonance, there hides a harmonic hum, waiting to be polished.

His other hand, hesitant and unsure, moves to touch your head. You lean into his gentle caress. “You wish to stay with us?” he asks.

An excited trill.

A careful consideration. Then an answer. His words are simple, but with finality. “Then stay.”

It is the first command you receive. And it will remain in effect for centuries. For millennia. But you did not know it then. You also did not regret it then.

Instead, there is only ecstasy at having received his permission. You dart back into Guizhong’s palms from his fingers, and she laughs at your excitement. “If you are to stay with us,” she says, “then allow me to bestow a gift upon you, songbird.”

“Guizhong,” Morax says sharply, his voice a warning as he crosses his arms. “Know what you are doing, before you do it.”

“I know very well,” she reassures him. “You have praised my wisdom before. Let your faith hold true.”

And then she covers your body with her hands and squeezes. A half-strangled pitch pushed past your beak, and then a strange sensation rushes over you. Initially, it feels like specks that burrow past your feathers and under your skin. But eventually, it morphs into the coolness of the morning dew, the dampness of misty clouds, and you shiver. It keeps pushing through your veins, and you hear it—a sound of sifting particles, as if dust has been kicked up by the wind. Still, though the feeling is enough to freeze blood, you do not resist. Your faith in Guizhong holds true.

Through your perseverance, time stops having meaning. It may have been seconds. It may have been years. Finally, after an eternity, Guizhong lets go, and you—

You can feel everything. The caress of the wind upon your feathers, the precipitating waters upon the grass beneath Guizhong’s feet, the rolling mist high in the mountain air.

“Well!” she marvels, as you shake off the chills. “Seems like it worked, Morax. The clouds are moving because of our little friend here.”

“So they did,” he observes impassively.

“Guizhong, Guizhong,” you cry, wondering what she did. And then snap your beak shut. There are words coming from your lungs.

“How the oriole cries! Prettily, just like the poets say,” she says, eyes mischievous. Morax sighs at her tone. “How do you feel, little songbird? Try using your words.”

“G-“ You shudder at the strangeness of the foreign vibrations, and stutter out an answer. Was your tongue supposed to twist this way? “Go-Good. Wh-What—?” What happened to me? You couldn’t finish the sentence, but Guizhong seemed to know what you meant.

“You were already more conscious than any bird I’ve seen,” she answers with a thoughtful look. “You must have a soul capable of cultivating into an adeptus. So I tried infusing some of my elemental energy into you—and opened your third eye in the process. The feeling in your body is the resulting adeptal energy that’s coursing through you.”

“I wish you were more considerate before making the decision. It could have been dangerous,” Morax mutters, shaking his head in exasperation.

“It worked out in the end, did it not?” Guizhong waves his concerns aside. At your questioning look, she says, “So, little songbird. Let’s see how long it takes for you to become a true adeptus, shall we?”

Not very long, it turns out. You take to the adeptal arts with alarming enthusiasm. To the combats arts with even more zeal. After Primus comes Secunde, your fellow adepti all said of your fighting skills. Morax had personally taught you the art of the blade—though you could never defeat him, no matter what tricks or techniques you pulled. It always ended with his spear at your throat, at your heart, you pinned beneath him. But you hadn’t minded, back then. Had even appreciated his overwhelming victory. This is my master, you had thought with pride. My lord is no-one’s equal.

You think back to those days sometimes, of the better times, before everything collapsed with the coming of the Archon War. Lord Guizhong had been so, so proud to see your human form—the final step in your cultivation toward becoming an adeptus. Beautiful, she had murmured, one hand to her chest, as if dazed. Don’t you think so, Morax? What an accomplishment from our little songbird.

And Morax… He had the same look as Guizhong. Mesmerized. Yes, he murmured. Beautiful.

Fingers at his side twitched, as if holding something back, but you shied away from his gaze by hiding behind Guizhong. Peeled yourself to her side in your new form, the warmth of her body diffusing into your own. The Lord of Dust was… safe. The Lord of Geo was not. You were reminded of when you first met him, his voice the earth rumbling as it swallows a songbird whole.

Even so, after her death, you never shed your human form. Never had the heart to shift hair and flesh back into feathers. You’d considered it, especially when Morax—Rex Lapis, after you swore your loyalty in the contract all adepti are bound to—became so overbearing.

However… Guizhong’s pride. You could not abandon it. Could not bear the thought of more of her pieces, more of her memories lost to wind and time. Guizhong did love the mortals so, after all. So while your external appearance changed from time to time, the inner essence of human flesh remained. It’s a reminder of your duty to the people of Liyue. Of her love.

But oh, sometimes, you wish you could just fly once more. Like right now, as your Lord of Geo glances at the Anemo Vision resting at your hips. The wind that has scattered Guizhong, now represented in your element. A unique sense of humour, you decide. Cruel irony. But then again, Celestia has always been carelessly cruel.

"Glory to Rex Lapis, and may his reign surpass millennia." The familiar greeting falls from your lips, devoid of all cheer.

“A lot has happened since my departure,” he says. A subtle disdain in the curl of his lips. You’re glad to see it—there was a reason the Anemo Vision was placed at your hips. On display for all to see… Especially the Lord of Geo.

“That it was, my lord.” You stare at anything but him. “I hear Cloud Retainer has retreated back into isolation. Perhaps you should pay her a visit. She will become a hermit again, if my lord does not coax her from her abode.”

“That is not what I refer to. You know that.” Stiff annoyance in his normally placid voice. This time, Rex Lapis' gaze does not shift from your Vision. “Celestia has saw fit to grant you their favour too, it seems.”

“Indeed.” Your answer is short. There is nothing to say that he doesn’t already know.

“Anemo,” he says, brows furrowed in concentration. In annoyance. A vein in his forearm pulses, and for a second, you see golden cracks. “I suppose it’s not too strange, for your nature.”

“The winds are crucial for flight, after all,” you agree. “At least, for someone like me. A dragon has no need for the winds, of course, but a bird does. Anemo makes sense. Does Xiao not also possess a Vision like mine?” There were many similarities between you and Xiao—except the Yaksha has not known his sovereign’s possessive gaze. Xiao was so very young, compared to you.

“Anemo… Should Geo not be more suitable? I do not understand this choice. After all, were you not once infused with dust?”

The sharpness in his tone makes you wince. It was underhanded, to bring up old memories like this. He means for you to lose your composure. So you cannot. “Even then, I suppose,” you choke out. "It is up to Celestia, after all."

“An Anemo Vision for a little songbird,” he say flatly. “How fitting, dear friend.”

Your breath hitches, but you refuse to crack. But how you wished to scream. To beat your fists against his unfeeling heart. To weep. “My lord,” you say, voice gone quiet. Firm. “Do not call me that.”

It sounds a command, but you will not apologize. Little songbird. Dear friend. None of these phrases should pass from his lips. They were not his to use.

A long, drawn-out silence, as his eyes linger near your Anemo Vision. “I apologize, beloved subject,” Rex Lapis says finally, a fake innocence in his lilting voice. “May I see it, then? I’d like a brief inspection of this new… development.” He opens his palm, expectant of your cooperation. As much as it could be called cooperation, when it comes coerced. When it is an order. Do it. You must, his eyes say, boring into you.

You hesitate. Something seems wrong. His calmness... but a vision cannot be destroyed, you console yourself. So you surrender it to him, silent and unsure. When he brushes his skin against yours, as you lay the Vision in his palm, the Geo markings wrapped around his arm flicker.

“You had the setting made in Liyue Harbour,” he notes, thumb brushing over the sharp edges of its square shape. A teal gem, inlaid in an octagonal and diamond metal border. As is typical for a Vision of someone from Liyue.

“I did,” you admit.

“A fine craftsmanship.”

“I will pass on your praise, my lord.”

“I would have done it for you, had you but waited for my return. Had you but asked.” His voice is light, but his words accusing.

“I did not wish to bother,” you mutter. As if you would let him set your Vision into a base of his own making—and let him assert his claim even more? No. Only a fool would allow it.

“Hm.” Rex Lapis turns the trinket around, examining it with a careful eye. And then he suddenly asks, “Visions are indestructible, are they not?”

“…Yes, I believe so,” you say, a sinking feeling in your gut. Chills snake up your spine, as if phantom fingers were tracing a path toward your neck. If he was going to do what you think he was… But not even he could succeed at such a thing… Right?

He stares at the Vision, as if he could conquer it with his will alone. The eyes of Morax are the sunset. Amber lit on fire. Diamond pupils glowing. It whispers of unfathomable strength. Incalculable power.

“I wonder…” he whispers, and then, to your horror, your prediction comes true. His arm turns to the darkness of Geo. Scattering geometric veins of gold, snaking around his skin, begin to burn bright as his fingers curl around your Vision and squeezes.

Your heart stops. Everything becomes still. And then the adrenaline floods your veins, and you almost topple from the blood rushing to your temples. Your head throbs. Stop him. You must stop him.

"What are you—" you rush to knock it out of his hand, but rock does not bend, for all your desperate clutching. His fingers remain clenched around your vision, and he does not let go. Your nails scratch at unyielding stone, but nothing, nothing. You had not wanted to believe your own predictions, thinking that there may be some kindness left in him, but to wring mercy from Geo is a futile endeavour. A wail cuts its way out from your throat, the warbling of an oriole as it chokes to death. “Rex Lapis! Morax! My lord, stop it, stop it, please—”

The glow fades away as he relents. Without his Geo powers, you can at last pry his stiff fingers open. A breath held in anticipation, eyes wide-eyed, hoping, hoping. At the centre of his palm lies broken pieces of what used to the metal borders of your Vision. Crushed to dust.

But among it, a teal gem. It remains whole and sparkling, unaware of the dangers it had just weathered. Dizzying relief in your mind as you snatch it away, staggering back and clutching it to your chest. You had no use for it, true, but it is still a part of you. It is a piece that differentiates you from him.

“I apologize, but it seems you will have to set your Vision again,” he says, sounding anything but sorry. It is casual malice instead. Amber eyes hardened into flint. “As recompense, I offer my services. You will find it inferior to none.”

“I know very well, my lord,” you say hollowly. “Thank you for the generous offer.” If you were to find another jeweller instead of letting him do as he wills, who knows the consequences. But still. “Why did you—!” A protest slips out, and you bite your tongue to stifle it. There was no use asking for answers you already have.

"I just wanted to test the claim." His face is expressionless—as if he didn't just try to destroyyour Vision, to crush it into nothingness under Geo. “It held true. A Vision truly is indestructible.”

“Right,” you croak. “Of course it is.”

"…Pity," Morax says mildly, voice so low it’s almost a murmur.

But you hear it. Of course you do—he expected it. Counted on it.

After all, a warning is meant to be heard.

From then on, you wear the Vision in a band around your forearm, for the sole purpose of hiding it within your billowing sleeves. The Anemo Vision sits tight and snug against your skin, out of sight and out of mind. You rarely use it, afraid to remind him of its existence.

You fear the day your lord lays eyes on it again—just as you fear him.

i was working on ur request and got side tracked. thinking about yan diluc and how bad he wants his captive little darling.. jerking off to the thought of them, moaning their name, so so frustrated and he aches with want. and reader. reader hears it every time, sometimes is witness to it. how desperate he is, how obsessed he is. maybe reader is sometimes awoken by the sound of him while he sleeps next to them. maybe he does it in front of them because he won't hurt you but please, please let him look at you? holding you down while he jacks off, eyes clenched closed so he can pretend it's in you. steadily losing his resolve bit by bit. ohoho my mind is running rampant.

every day. EVERY DAY i think about yan diluc. i am so sorry to my followers but i see a pathetic aristocratic repressed man and i go AHJDVNJKFVDJNKFVkjn.

cw: kidnapping, non-consensual touching, yandere, reader wears a nightgown, diluc's saviour complex. (bondage and being fed in a Non Sexy way) dub-con/non-con.

He makes you sleep in his bed.

It's for precaution, he insists, his crimson gaze not quite meeting your own; to ensure that you're safe. He just feels more comfortable, more assured that you are sheltered from the dangers of the world, if you slumber beside him - if he slips in late at night after whatever business he attends to that has him come back smelling of blood and burning, and sees you peaceful beneath his own coverlets.

You hold your tongue; bite back the insistence that you would be safer if you were not a captive in the house of a madman, if you were permitted your freedom, if he wasn't so selfish and disgusting and monstrous. You have long since learnt such protestations mean nothing to Diluc; he simply bows his head, face anguished, and makes a quiet noise of agreement that he is a monster.

("It is worth it, though," he says, and you see the vision he wears at his hip glow for a moment, "to know that you are safe, beloved.")

One falls quickly into routine when routine is all that one is allowed to partake in. You are permitted only the smallest freedoms; most of your time is spent under Adelinde's watchful eye, trapped in the four walls of the winery, wishing you had appreciated the freedom of Monstadt when you were still able to partake in what the Anemo Archon blessed you with.

And your routine, now, includes . . . slipping on one of the expensive confections of frill and lace and chiffon that Diluc buys you to wear in bed. Spraying some of the perfume that he brings back from his trips, in the vain hope that it will drown out Diluc's own particular cedarwood and vintage wine and iron scent. Slipping beneath the covers and hoping that sleep will come easy to you, that you will not be woken by the inevitable--

You always are. The feel of the bed dipping down beside you; the soft sigh that escapes Diluc's mouth, as the covers are pulled down and you are revealed to his hungry eyes.

The nightgowns are modest; innocent, even. They are all frills and fanciful creams and ivories, georgette sleeves that drape over your shoulders, ruching and delicate lamp-grass embroidery and little ribbons in Diluc's favourite colour (red, it's always red). That just seems to rile him up more.

The feel of a hand, grazing atop of the fabric - his hand searing heat even when he does not fully touch you. The soft little groan of your name, so longing and wanting it almost makes you sick. And then . . . the sound of Diluc's own nightclothes, being displaced. The wet shlick of skin-on-skin, as he touches himself to the sight of your helpless body, whilst he thinks you're sleeping.

You have lost count of the number of times you have woken to the sounds of Diluc touching himself. Your name, gasped out through clenched teeth in heated hisses - praise for you, calling you his darling, so good for him, so beautiful and lovely . . . Calling you his. Mumbling to himself about how pretty you are, how soft and warm and tight he's certain you are as he imagines he is rutting his cock into something other than his fist.

You keep your eyes squeezed shut. You can take this; you can live with this. You can bear it, if all he is going to do is lie beside you and fantasise. You hear the whine when he comes, feel the way his back arches, the way he pants and pants and how the rhythm of his hand and the slick sounds change a little--

He always touches you with those hands, afterwards. Always pulls you against him spoon-fashion. Always drops hot kisses along your throat and drags you against him in such a tight hold you think he fears ever letting go, with his own come drying on the sheets and messing your nightgown.

(It doesn't bother him; he does not do his own laundry, and Adelinde looks at you in the mornings when she comes to strip the beds and gives you an encouraging smile. She had told you, once, when you had been new here and still railing against your imprisonment--

"Master Diluc is lonely," she'd said, sighing, "I have not seen him so happy as he is in your presence for many years."

As she had checked the tightness of your ropes, sharper eyes than one would expect of a maid had met yours.

"I don't need to tell you how much of Monstadt rely on Master Diluc," she says. "On the business of the Dawn Winery? Do you not think that a little unhappiness may be your responsibility to bear?"

"It's barbaric!" You'd snapped back. "He wants me to be . . . some imprisoned bird in a pretty cage!"

Adelinde's face sets like stone. Diluc was away that night; when she had brought up a tray for your dinner, the soup had been stone cold.

"Do you know how many natural predators birds have?" She'd asked you, a falsely polite smile on her face as she ladled the cold soup into your mouth and you had no choice but to swallow it. "Why, I've seen Master Diluc take several out with a single arrow. Perhaps a songbird ought to be glad it is ornamental enough to be spared that fate.")

You should have known that Diluc would not be satisfied with merely lying beside you, having you so close and yet not doing anything about it. The first time his other hand had crept to your thigh, pushing up the lacy hem, your eyes had snapped open.

"Diluc?" You had whispered, softly, into the night - hoping that your voice may be soft enough and persuasive enough to make him ashamed of it. "Wh-what are you doing?"

A ragged voice had answered you.

"I just . . . just let me look at you, darling. Just let me . . . touch you a little--"

Burning hands on bare skin. Diluc, shifting, so he lay on his side - big wine-dark eyes seeking you out in the moonlight filtered through the curtain as he groaned out your name.

"So pretty," he'd said, as he'd pushed the nightgown higher and higher. Bare thighs. bare stomach. The place between your thighs. A soft groan had escaped him at the sight. "Spread your legs for me. Please."

"Diluc--"

"I won't-- I won't hurt you--" He practically tripped over his tongue in his urges. "Please. I just want to look at you, darling, beloved, angel--"

. . . Just look. Just gaze on you. You sleep in the same bed, but you are - now at least - trusted to do such personal matters as bathe and undress on your own. Adelinde had helped, when you were still bound . . . but you had been good, and you had earnt your freedoms. A sob hiccups in your throat as you bare yourself to him. Your cheeks heat at how hungrily his gaze devours you.

"So beautiful," he whines, hand going to his cock - the first time you've seen it, properly. Pretty - thick, long, with a flushed ruddy tip and a gentle curve, soaking precome as his fingers wrap about it. "Please stay like that. Hnn-- Just . . . just let me think about how you feel, I won't hurt you, I promise I promise I promise--"

But just a little turns into more far quicker than people expect. At first it just just looking at you - and then--

"Just let me touch your thighs," Diluc whispers, his breath hot against your cheek as he lavishes the warmed skin with kisses. "Ahh-- hnn, they're so much softer than my hand . . . Is this what you'd feel like . . . inside?"

"Just let me settle between your legs," Diluc begs you. "Just . . . let me hold you by the hip, let me imagine I'm inside of you, darling, please, I need to--"

"Hold my other hand. Please."

"Just . . . against your thighs. Let me rut it against your thighs. I'm begging you, beloved, if you don't I think I shall simply die--"

"Kiss me--"

When he presses it against the cleft of your sex and whispers;

"Just the tip - I promise, my darling. I would never hurt you. Have I ever? Please . . . I simply need to feel every part of you--"

. . . What else can you do, a captive ornamental bird in a fine cage, but accept it? Spread your legs wider and welcome him in?

It was always going to come to this.

It is still a better fate, you suppose, than being shot down in flight.

Random brain rot but I suddenly imagined prison guard Aether and inmate Lumine.

Never in your life did you imagine yourself in the position you were currently in but that was the reality you were living in at this exact moment. Framed for a murder you did not commit you got sent to a prison and you immediately realized you how much you stood out there.

All of the inmates were terrifying but their crimes did vary - from petty theft, to assault, usage of drugs, murder and everything in between, it was clear that you were just a little lamb that was thrown into the pit of merciless wolves.

Your roommate did nothing to ease your worries either.

Lumine was one of the most terrifying people you had met in your whole entire life, even if she was never actually cruel or mean to you in any way, shape or form. Despite her small stature and soft voice it was obvious that she ran the entire prison like a well oiled machine. Most feared and respected her while others were dumb enough to challenge or make fun of her.

None succeeded in their quests.

Everyone would either receive the infamous glare™ from her or the cold shoulder and that was on a good day. But you? She was so soft and sweet to you that it felt more like a burden rather than a blessing. Everyone in the vicinity knew you as Big Bad Lumine's little plaything which made your already miserable existence even more unbearable.

As you lay in her lap she tells you stories from her childhood and how much she missed her twin brother. "You would really like him." she'd say, her eyes everted towards the small window that gave her a glimpse of the starry sky. "You're going to meet him soon enough anyway."

You were fast asleep, much to her delight.

The next few weeks after that became even more confusing than they already were. There was talk about a new guard that would regularly patrol the areas Lumine was in and just a few days after the rumors spread like wild fire you actually managed to meet the new guard.

He called himself Aether and he was as sweet as he was pretty, and he was very pretty. He gave you things, many things such as candy, books and little items that could dull the boredom that haunted your sad cell. He was extremely doting and thoughtful but even so, alarm bells rang in your head. Prison guards are hardly ever this nice, why on Earth was this guy giving you so much special treatment?

You felt like cracking your skull open once you figured out that Aether and Lumine were related. How did you not see it sooner?! Idiot, you'd shout to yourself inside your head as you stared at them in horror. It was so obvious, so stupidly obvious that you practically deserved a beating.

Your particular prison was known to mistreat its inmates and guards beating them up was a common occurrence but no one laid a single finger on you. Aether was covering for you, do it would seem. It was strange to see the pretty blond man with a vicious grin on his face as he smacked around several of the inmates on a regular basis, quickly earning a wretched reputation in record time... And then him turning to you, suddenly smiling and being the cute boy he wants you to see.

But what the twins what to see the most in the world is freedom. They want to be together, they want to be free.

But now, they wanted you in that fantasy of theirs as well.

And they were going to do everything to turn that fantasy into a reality.

giggles. . . tighnari likes being close to u when he fucks you and he subconsciously wraps his tail around u to keep u close. he's also 100% down with outdoors sex in the middle of the rainforest. generally a v soft man

*twirls around* he's adorable ty for indulging me de <3

warnings: f! reader, outdoor sex, soft tiggy, creampie; 0.5k wc.

He reeks of desperation in the way he tugs you closer to himself, “you're so warm.” he breathes, lips chasing yours as you try to sneak in a lungful of oxygen.

It's true, your skin feels like it's on fire and it only spreads like gasoline with each touch of his. The added thrill of being out in the rainforest like this just sets all your nerves alight, “so are you.”

smiling at your giggle, he wraps his tail around your waist, the soft green fur of it a welcoming gesture against your bare skin, “what if someone catches us like this?”

Tighnari slants his hips into yours and your mouth falls open in a breathless moan, “hm, then they'll know that you're mine.”

he says it so casually that you're hitting his shoulder playfully, “kidding!” a laugh falls from his lips, “who would ever come to the middle of a rainforest?”

He doesn't allow you a moment to ponder though, cock pushing past your tight walls and rendering your brain numb, “s'tight— ah, you're...”

he's stumbling upon his words as his cock throbs inside your clenching pussy, “you're gonna make me cum too soon if you keep squeezing me like that,”

his hand weaves into yours, fingers intertwined as he whispers against your lips, “relax baby.” and he hears you gasp for air as you try to follow his suggestion.

But as soon as he thrusts into you, your cunt is clamping down on his throbbing cock with both your groans filling the air around,

“you close?” you're nodding at his question, perhaps too eagerly, “yeah,”

“good,” and his voice is shaky now, his ears twitching as he heaves above you, hips rutting into yours in a frenzy— like he couldn't get enough of you, “gonna cum for me, darling?”

“yes, tighnari— fuck,” your voice breaks off into a loud moan as you gush around his cock. Tighnari follows close, teeth sinking in your neck as he fills you up with his cum seeping down your trembling thighs,

“for research purposes,” he chuckles, out of breath from the intensity of the orgasm, “we should do this more often.”

© munsonsins. do not steal / copy / translate / recommend on tiktok or any other platforms.