Just Don’t Look [Yandere Diluc X Reader]

MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT | TIGHNARI

summary: being sent to sumeru to close out a business deal for the fatui for your brother was not exactly how you wanted to spend your days. you hated the heat, you hated wildlife, and every worry you had came to fruition when you find yourself lost in the avidya forest as night begins to fall. luckily for you, a forest ranger comes to your rescue when all hope seems to be lost.

warnings: fem!reader, fatui!reader, subby!tighnari, virgin!tighnari, outdoor sex, finger sucking (tighnari), very gentle choking (f->m), kinda sex w a stranger, lowkey one-sided “enemies” to lovers (tighnari has a sharp mouth and it pisses reader off but he is totally oblivious to it)

wordcount: 6.3k

notes: omg cat's genshin debut :0 i had to do it for my pretty baby. ty lia n kat for reading over for me <33 small taglist: @kxeyas @mxnjiros @manjiroscum @dxlucs @suyacho @meowdarame @semisgroupie @tokyometronetwork

reblogs for boost v must appreciated cuz idek if this will stay in the tags cuz its my first time writing for genshin

Sometimes you wished that Pantalone still resented you as he did when you guys were children—at least then you wouldn’t be caught in this shitty situation. You scowled deeply as you looked around the thick brush of the forest, the heat sticking your clothes to your skin. You had no idea where you were in comparison to the crude map that your brother had given you before you left Snezhnaya. 

He must have done this on purpose, you hissed to yourself as you tripped over another branch, he knows you hate the heat and he knows you hate wildlife. You could stay holed up in the palace up in Snezhnaya for the rest of your life and be content, you were sure of it. 

Night was falling fast, and you had a feeling that night in the jungle would be a lot darker than any night you had braved outside in Snezhnaya—and you had always been afraid of the dark. 

Not to mention the creatures out here.

The anger toward your brother faded away, shifting into a sort of anxiety you hadn’t felt in a long time—you could hear the growls resounding through the air but you couldn’t tell where they were coming from. You fisted the vision hanging at your side, a nervous habit that you had developed a few years back. The fingers of your other hand twitched and trembled around the map, your breath quickened as your eyes danced across the lines and symbols. 

You couldn’t figure out where to go.

“Well, aren’t you the lucky one? I wasn’t planning on doing patrol in this direction tonight. You should be quite grateful that I did.” 

You turned around quick, eyes wide and hope blooming in your chest for the first time since you realized you had somehow diverged from the path. Your eyes fell upon a boy your age, or maybe a little older, standing up on the higher ground to your left, dressed in a loose garb that covered his body—dark hair cut chin length with lime green streaks, multicolored eyes and… ears? And a tail. You blinked in surprise, lips parting to speak but no words left your lips.

He clicked his tongue sharply, “Well, come on. I’ll bring you back to Gandharva Ville.”

You shook your head, “I need to be at Sumeru City,” you finally said. He looked unimpressed as he stared down at you.

“You’re a two day walk deep into the Avidya Forest from Sumeru City. You won’t get there before nightfall, I don’t even know if we’ll make it to Gandharva Ville before nightfall if you don’t start moving,” his tone was sharp, almost condescending, and you could feel your face heat up in embarrassment but he paid you no mind, only raising his eyebrows and waiting for you to join him up on that bank.

You let out a breath, trying to push away the humiliation and irritation. You couldn’t remember the last time someone took a tone like this with you—everybody back in Snezhnaya was far too scared of Pantalone to consider having an attitude with you.

“How do I get up there?” you finally asked, looking around for a path up to the ledge he was standing on.

“You climb,” he said, in a tone that made you feel the answer should have been obvious but it only caused dread to pool in your stomach as you stared at the steep hill of loose dirt. How embarrassing it would be to start climbing up only to keep slipping down. As if he could understand what was going through your head, he let out a heavy, exasperated sigh.

Irritation rose swiftly again before you forced it away, watching as he jumped down halfway, landing on a rock jutted out of the dirt. He crouched down and held out his hand to you, once again raising his eyebrows in impatience, “C’mon now, daylight is burning.”

You pushed away the annoyance, shifting your light bag on your back before moving over to below where he was waiting for you, standing up on your tiptoes and holding your hand up toward him. 

Long, slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, and you nearly shivered at the feeling of his warm skin on yours but he didn’t give you the chance, pulling you up onto the rock with a sort of ease you did not expect—he was stronger than he looked.

Your face was hot yet again as he steadied you by the waist, body pressed close to his as you tried to make sure you didn’t fall off the small ledge. You hated how he seemed completely unbothered by the proximity, and the irritation began to brew yet again. His gaze darted up briefly to where he had been previously standing.

“Up you go,” he said offhandedly, and you didn’t really have time to register what he said before his hand dropped yours and came to your waist with his other hand. His fingers pressed deep into your skin as he helped you up the side of the slope, “Go on, pull yourself up.”

“I know,” you couldn’t help but snap back.

“Well then, do it,” he said right back, voice dry.

Letting out a sharp breath you did just that, pulling yourself up and brushing your clothes off as you rose back to your feet, looking around. You had figured there would be some sort of path up the slope but alas… everything still looked the same. Giant trees, brush and more brush. Green, green, green everywhere. 

It was anxiety-inducing, really, and you couldn’t help the way your heart rate started picking up again. You forced yourself to calm back down when you felt him join you at the top of the slope. He clicked his tongue sharply again as he passed right by you, walking through the brush as if he knew it like the back of his hand, following a path that only he could see, “What were you thinking coming out here all alone?” he asked and you bristled.

“I had a map,” you bit back and you could practically see the way he rolled his eyes even if his back was facing you.

“There is no map that can accurately trace the paths of the forest. They overgrow quickly, get washed out by floods. There is a reason that the Forest Watcher’s base is right at where the forest meets Liyue’s Chasm, perhaps you should have stopped there and you would have known that.”

“I didn’t come through the Chasm,” you said, “I came from the northwest. Traveled from Snezhnaya.”

He looked over his shoulder, giving you a once over, “You’re from Snezhnaya?” he questioned but before you could answer, he suddenly looked amused, “Well perhaps you should be awarded then, I don’t think I’ve ever quite seen someone manage to go completely around the city as you did. How you managed to get off path in Vanarana to get to the jungle and all the way down south nearly to the valley is a mystery to me.”

Your body went hot as embarrassment flooded your veins, you glared harshly at him but he was no longer paying attention to you, instead looking ahead again.

“Well, my most sincere apologies for not exactly being used to forests like these. Snezhnaya is a barren wasteland if you know any geography other than this stupid forest.”

“The forest is not stupid,” he countered immediately, shooting you a narrowed-eyed gaze, “Don’t be so childish insulting something just because you don’t understand it. Even the children in Vimara are better than that.”

Your lips parted in shock at the insult but he once again paid you no mind, only kneeling down to pick some berries. “How long were you wandering out here? Do you have any food left with you?” he asked, turning around to pass some berries to you as if he hadn’t just implied you were dull and childish. 

But you were hungry, and though your blood boiled beneath your skin, you swallowed your pride, “A couple hours, and no, I ran out. I didn’t pack enough, I guess.”

“Amateur mistake,” he muttered and you shot him a filthy look that he yet again ignored as he handed you the berries. You tried so hard to push the comment to the back of your head, hands nearly shaking as you brought the berries to your mouth. 

He was watching you in a way you did not like, and just as you were about to pop the berries into your mouth, his hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging it away harshly and making the berries fall to the ground. You stared at him, a litany of curses rising to your lips.

“You don’t even know how to tell poisonous berries from safe ones,” he accused and slowly, you realized that had been a test, a cloud of rage sweeping over your mind as you took a step closer to him.

“I thought they were safe because you handed them to me,” you spit out, jabbing your fingers into his chest. He looked unperturbed. 

“Perhaps you should be more observant, lack of attention will get you killed,” he chided you as if you were a child and your body shook with barely repressed anger as he held out another hand toward you. You refused to reach out and take whatever he was trying to pass over to you but he only reached down to grab your hand, dropping another bunch of berries into your hand as he kneeled down to pick up one of the ones he dropped. 

He held it up for you to look at, “What is the difference between the ones in your hand and the one in mine?”

You stared at him, genuinely wondering if you were about to get lectured on plant life in the middle of a jungle. He waited for you to respond, your throat felt tight and your nostrils flared as you inhaled deeply, realizing he wasn’t going to move until you answered the question and knowing you couldn’t get out of this place without him. 

Your eyes drew between the two berries, “The one in your hand is more vibrant.”

“Precisely,” he looked pleased with himself, “In this forest, never trust the bright colors--animals, fish, fungi or plants.”

Without another word, he kept walking and you were forced to follow behind him, feet dragging against the brush as you chewed and swallowed the non-poisonous berries. You stared at his back, jaw clenched tight as he walked ahead of you silently, occasionally checking back to make sure you were still following. After a few moments, you decided to speak up again.

“I have a meeting in Sumeru City tomorrow evening. It’s not something I can miss… please, take me to the quickest path to the city,” you forced out the word, briefly shutting your eyes.

“No,” he spoke so firmly that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly, “You-”

“You will take me to Sumeru City,” you interrupted, tone venomous, “I cannot miss this meeting-”

“I will not,” he said again, “You’ve been wandering around the forest too long on your own, if you happened to pass by one of the withering zones, the effects could kill you, even with a vision. I’ll bring you back to Gandharva so we can make sure you’re okay, and then once we’ve determined you are, I can bring you to Sumeru City.”

“I didn’t pass by a withering zone,” you did not even know what a withering zone was, “There’s no need-”

“Do you even know what a withering zone is?” he turned on his heel to look at you, lips twisted down. You did not answer. “That’s what I thought. If you’re that eager to die, then, by all means, I will take you to the path to the city. Are you?”

Your lips remained sealed, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. The prospect of death became all too real as he stared down at you expectantly. 

“Okay then,” he said after a few moments, “We’ll have to set up a camp, night is falling fast. Traveling through the forest at night is not wise.” 

You let out a shaky breath, nodding with him in agreement. He let out an approving hum as he looked around before moving a few yards to the right, shrugging his bag off of his shoulder and laying out what seemed to be a tent that he’d have to set up.

You didn’t know what to do except awkwardly stand there as you watched him set up the small tent, tail swishing behind him, ears twitching as he put together the poles that hold up the tent.

You realized you didn’t even know his name.

“Are you feeling any sort of weakness?” he asked absently as he continued to set up the tent, “Light-headedness? Fogginess? Are you able to summon elemental energy?” 

“No, no, no and…” your vision hummed at your side as you tried to summon electro, “and yes.”

“Good,” he said, “That’s a good sign. Of course, it could always hit later but…”

“How reassuring,” you said dryly, “What’s your name, anyway?” 

He looked back at you, surprised, “Tighnari… and yours?”

You told him your name quietly as he finished setting up the tent and rolling out a mat inside of it. Tighnari knelt in front of the tent, gathering up some wood to start a fire. He patted the space next to him and you bit your bottom lip, waiting a few seconds before making your way over, sitting down next to him. 

“What is Snezhnaya like?” Tighnari asked after you settled down, reaching into his bag to pull out what looked like a few bars of food and handing them to you. “I’ve never been.”

“Cold,” you said quietly, “and barren. Though I prefer it to this. There aren’t many cities either—just towns that surround the estates of the Harbingers and the wealthier people of Snezhnaya.”

Tighnari made a soft noise, closing his eyes as if he were trying to picture it, “You’ve never seen a forest like this before.”

“Snezhnaya is frozen all year round… I’m not sure if I ever saw grass before I left a week or two ago. I live in the northernmost part of Snezhnaya,” you admitted, watching Tighnari’s eyes open in surprise.

His head bounced back a bit so he could look at you, ears folding slightly at the sudden movement, “Really? That’s fascinating.”

His eyes were curiously trained onto you, and you couldn’t help the feeling that spread through you under his intense stare, looking away and down toward the small fire he had created--it was hot, so you weren’t really sure why it was necessary until he shifted to pull two oval canisters out of his bag.

“Incense,” he explained, “To keep away some of the more unwelcome critters. It’ll help you sleep better too.”

“Is it… safe to sleep out here?” you asked quietly. And you swore that you weren’t usually so cautious and nervous, but this was an unfamiliar situation for you and you did not like it. Not to mention the fact you were still thrown off from getting lost earlier and how that could have turned out.

“Hmm, I’ve done it a million times… well, not actually a million, but you know what I mean,” Tighnari said, “You’ll be okay. I’ll stay up to keep watch.”

“But don’t you need to sleep?” you asked, brows furrowed as you turned your head to look at him yet again. 

He waved you off, “We’ll make sure to get back to Gandharva tomorrow, I’ll let one of the other rangers take over my patrol. I doubt you’d be able to stay up even if you wanted to, you look exhausted.”

You frowned at the comment, looking down at yourself but Tighnari didn’t give you the chance to say anything about it. 

“You should go rest. I’ll be waking you up as soon as dawn breaks so we can start the trek back to Gandharva,” he said. You opened your mouth to protest but as if he could predict it, he turned his head to look at you, ears bouncing. “Now.”

You did not like being ordered around, not at all, actually, but you supposed that you didn’t have much ground to argue with him considering your situation. You let out a heavy sigh as you rose to your feet, slipping inside of the tent and placing your bag down as you curled up on the mat that Tighnari had laid out for you.

You could hear him rustling about outside of the tent, setting up the incense, and it was your only comfort as you lay down and realized just how dark it was. The night seemed to swallow the small fire that Tighnari had lit outside of the tent.

You hated the dark. It reminded you of all the nights you and Pantalone had spent freezing half to death on the side streets of Naveretrov when you were children. And although the Avidya Forest was the opposite of cold, you couldn’t help the way your body shivered at the reminder.

You tried to push it away, squeezing your eyes shut, forcing your mind away from the dark thoughts stirring, and focusing instead on the snarky ranger that saved your life. 

—

Tighnari wasn’t all bad, you decided after tossing and turning for hours. He had a mouth that was too big and far too sharp for him to back up, but you had to admit that it was refreshing compared to the respect your position demanded from the people of Snezhnaya and those who dealt with the Fatui. No one wanted to risk the wrath of Pantalone for disrespecting you, especially when people knew very well that Pantalone would shamelessly drag the other Harbingers right into the situation and it would turn into a very misfortunate conflict for the offender.

It was nice having someone who had no idea who you were or what your position back home was, even if it was a bit jarring, having someone who would talk to you freely as if you were any other random traveler that managed to get lost in the forest.

And if you ignored the snark and snide comments, which you weren’t even sure if he realized came out the way they did, he really was a good person. He went out of his way to help you, offered to stay up on watch all night so you could rest, gave you food, shelter over your head for the night… He stayed up and told you about the forest, and the desert, stories of some of his adventures around Sumeru when he realized you weren’t comfortable sleeping yet.

He was not bad at all, really, in fact, he might just be the exact opposite. And you hated the warm feeling that started to stir in your chest when you thought of him. 

After a few moments of considering what to do, you finally rolled off the mat and crawled out of the tent, rising to your feet to brush the dirt off that had stuck to your clothes.

You looked around, trying to spot him but you weren’t able to catch sight of him at first glance. And it was dark, you were sure it was still the middle of the night. The darkness seemed to smother any and all light around you. You could feel that anxiety begin to pool in your gut again, you could feel the shivers crawling up and down your spine despite the heat.

Your lips parted to call his name but the words dissolved when you looked to your left and caught sight of his familiar figure kneeling next to a small pond several yards away, right within a clearing that let the moon shine down against the water.

Oh, you swallowed thickly when you caught sight of the tiny smile on Tighnari’s lips as his fingers brushed what looked like a sort of lotus, gloves discarded somewhere next to him. The moon reflected prettily against his eyes, tail brushing the ground, and his ears twitched as he looked up suddenly, head turning in your direction.

“You should be asleep,” he noted. “We have a long hike tomorrow.”

“I can’t,” you said quietly, feet dragging against the grass as you made your way toward him, your mouth felt dry as you drew closer to him. He looked pretty under the moonlight, you couldn’t help but note, and you supposed night couldn’t be that bad if it brought you a sight like that.

“Is the incense bothering you?” Tighnari asked, brows furrowed in concern, “I’ve noticed it sometimes doesn't sit well with foreigner’s bodies, I suppose I should have set up a different one.”

“No no,” you said quickly, “it’s not the incense. I just… I have trouble at night, especially outdoors, it brings up bad memories. That’s all.”

“Hmm,” Tighnari said as he settled back down against the grass, “Understandable.”

He didn’t say anything else as returned his attention back toward the lotus. You stood there awkwardly for a moment before moving closer to him, taking a seat on the ground next to him—maybe a bit too close, you could feel his thigh brushing yours but he didn’t seem to mind.

“This is a Nilotpala Lotus,” he said quietly, and you looked down at the white and yellow lotus curiously, “It’s my favorite flower.”

“It’s pretty,” you told him, reaching out to touch the petals gently. 

“Mhm, isn’t it?” Tighnari agreed and you looked up at him, noticing how the green in his eyes sparkled beneath the moonlight. You tried to push away the feeling of your chest tightening, but you couldn’t.

You were just overtired, you told yourself, but you couldn’t drag your eyes away from Tighnari no matter how hard you tried, and you couldn’t help the way your mind began to wander even though you knew damn well it was wrong.

Wondering if his lips and skin were as soft as they looked, if his tongue would be as sharp as it was during the day when he was beneath you, if he would try to take control or if he’d lay back and let you do as you please.

Stop, you told yourself, shaking your head and looking away, breath just a little too quick as you turned your eyes up to the sky. You’re just tired.

“Are you okay?” Tighnari sounded concerned and you forced yourself to look at him again. You thought convincing yourself would be the hardest part but you realized very quickly that controlling yourself would be. “Are you feeling weak? Light-headed?”

You opened your mouth to agree, use it as a sort of excuse to go back to laying down before you did something rash, but the words that left your lips were not a murmur of agreement.

“No,” you said, and you felt overwhelmed as he leaned a little closer, the back of his hand pressing against your warm forehead. You wondered if his ears were sensitive, if he’d shudder beneath you when you ran your fingers against the soft fur. You wondered if his back would arch up into you and you wondered if his fingers would dig deep into your skin like they had when he helped you up the slope. “I’m okay.”

“You’re warm,” he spoke quietly to himself. You blamed the withering zone that you had been sure earlier you hadn’t walked past—it must somehow be causing you to feel this way. “Hm… no sweats or chills though. Does your body feel weak?”

But his face was close to yours now and you could barely concentrate. If you shifted forward just an inch… 

No, you told yourself again, don’t be rash.

But unfortunately, you had always been rash—neither you nor your brother were known for your self-control, a flaw that unfortunately seemed to be written in your family’s blood.

His lips were just as soft as they looked, you noted as you leaned in to press your lips against his. He let out a soft noise of surprise, your eyes were screwed shut but you knew his must be wide open as you brought one hand up to cup his cheek.

You were sure he was going to push you away once he realized what you were doing, but a sort of searing fire ran through your body when you noticed that instead of pushing you away, his hands had drifted to hover over your waist as if he wanted to touch you but wasn’t sure you wanted him to.

You brought your free hand down to one of his, grabbing it gently to lay it against your body and you could feel him inhale sharply as his grip on your waist instinctively tightened. His lips moved hesitantly against yours, and despite the hard grip on your waist, you could still feel the way his fingers were trembling.

He was nervous. The realization brought you more joy than it should have but there was a sort of satisfaction that bubbled in your chest at the sight of the forest ranger vulnerable that you did not expect.

You reveled in the way he chased your lips as you pulled away, and you reveled even more in the soft whimper that escaped his lips as you dragged your lips to the underside of his jaw, trailing slow, wet kisses down his jaw to his neck.

His hands were tense on your waist, “We, ah, we shouldn’t, I-I need to keep watch, and-“

“I can stop,” you said quietly, voice muffled against his skin but his grip on your waist tightened at your words, fingers digging into your flesh to hold you in place and you took that as an answer. 

You shifted closer to him, lips moving just a bit more eagerly when his hands wrapped around your thighs, helping you move to straddle his waist. You brought your hand to slide around the back of his head, fingers intertwining with soft strands of dark hair. You could feel his breath hot and heavy against the skin below your ear as you continued to kiss down his neck toward his collarbone—shifting the loose garb out of the way, letting it slip halfway off his shoulders. 

His breath hitched as your tongue lightly traced the hollow of his collarbone, hands sliding beneath your top so he could feel your skin against his. His nails were sharper than you expected, pressing crescents into your skin and you nearly hissed at the sting.

Slowly, you kissed back up his neck, teeth nicking his skin with each light suck of your lips. He let out a low keen as your lips ghosted up his body, and you smiled slightly when you felt his throat bob beneath your touch. You kissed the corner of his lips softly, waiting for him to let out another soft noise as he turned his face in your direction, pressing his lips against yours yet again. 

Your tongue darted out to swipe his bottom lip, and Tighnari’s lips parted instinctively for you, you cupped the back of his neck, holding him as close as possible as you deepened the kiss. Your lips slid together messily as you pressed your tongue down on his, swallowing the barely audible whines he continued to let out.

He rocked his hips up against yours and your eyes fluttered shut when you felt him grind his cock up between your thighs, pulling back to watch as he tossed his head back against the grass at the minimal friction

You brought your fingers up to brush against his cheekbone, “You’re so sensitive, Tighnari,” you murmured, watching as he looked up at you through his lashes, eyes dilated, lips swollen and pink and wet, parted as he let out quick pants. “Has anyone ever touched you like this before?”

His eyes looked half glassy as he shook his head and you reached out, cupping his cheek and forcing him to look you in the eye, “Do you want this?” you asked quietly, waiting for a response. He nodded, but you only raised your eyebrows, trying to smother a smile when you noticed his hips bucking beneath yours again already. “Do you?”

“I do,” he gasped out, “I do, I do, I do.”

“Mkay,” you murmured, shifting down his body to unlace his pants. He lifted his head off the ground, neck craning to watch you as you undid his pants just enough to free his cock of its confines. You watched as it slapped up against his abdomen, tip flushed and pretty and leaking more precum than you thought was possible. Your tongue darted out to wet your lips as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his tip only for a moment, listening as he let out a choked, shaky breath, as a dull thud met your ears signaling his head dropping back against the ground. 

“So damn sensitive,” you say softly to yourself as you shuffle back up his body to straddle his hips, making sure to shift your own pants off, cupping his cheeks with both of your hands, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure,” Tighnari was all but sobbing at this point, trying to rock his hips up into you to get any sort of relief. “I’m sure.”

And that was all you needed to sink down on his cock. You were barely able to hold your eyes open to watch the way Tighnari’s jaw went slack as his cock buried deep inside of you--the stretch nearly making your eyes roll back. 

Oh fuck, you thought to yourself, biting back a moan as Tighnari’s hips jerked up suddenly, tip brushing up against your cervix. His body was shaking and shuddering beneath yours, skin beaded with sweat and face having fallen limp to the side as he tried and failed to regain any sense of control over himself.

Your hands trailed down from his cheeks to his chest, nails tracing a light circle around his nipples, watching as his abdomen spasmed and another pretty moan escaped his lips. 

This wasn’t exactly safe, you noted absently as his slim fingers returned to curling around your thighs, holding you tight. Tighnari was loud, and while it was unlikely any other humans were around you were still out in the open but…

But you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop even if you wanted to.

One of your hands slid back up to his face, two fingers pressing against his puffy lips and you felt distinctly pleased as he parted his lips for you right away, letting you push your fingers into his mouth and press down on his tongue.

Slowly, you began to rock your hips against his—the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls and his tongue swirling around your fingers had heat spreading through your body fast, you could feel his moans muffled against your fingers, the way his hips rocked up to an erratic and uneven pace to try to meet yours.

He was pretty, was all you could really think as you struggled to not let your eyes squeeze shut so you could watch him--watch how drool pooled at the corner of his lips, how his eyes were half-rolled back and tearing up, hair splayed out beneath him and bangs sticking to his forehead, skin flushed from his cheeks all the way down to his chest. Your breath was heavy and shaky as you watched his ears unconsciously twitch and fold with each roll of your hips. 

You leaned forward, the fingers of your free hand grazing his left ear and the sound he let out was absolutely obscene, back arching up against you, the pace of his hips becoming even more erratic. He was trying to speak but his voice was slurred and barely coherent and muffled around your fingers, “Feels’good, s’good, ‘m s’hot, s’hot, ‘m’nna die.”

Tighnari let out a whimper as you pulled your fingers from his mouth, replacing them with your lips so you could press a heated kiss to his, swallowing each and every moan and whine that slipped from his lips, letting your hand trail down to his neck so you could wrap it around gently, only barely squeezing.

But even then, the feather-light action seemed to have him careening right over the edge, hips bucking up into you faster than you could keep up now, fingers digging into your hips as he chased his own high. Each snap of his hips had you letting out breathy moans into his mouth, had your eyes fluttering shut, had your head fuzzy and your body weak as you failed to try to retain any semblance of control.

You could feel every inch of his cock as he fucked it deep inside you--your grip on his neck and hair were the only thing keeping you stable on top of him. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower abdomen, coiling tight; you could feel him moaning into your mouth, you could feel the way they were becoming faster, more high-pitched as he pushed himself closer and closer to the edge, as he felt your walls flutter and squeeze around his cock. 

“Oh god,” you half-sobbed into his mouth, body shaking as you tried to meet each of his thrusts, “Oh god, Tigh-Tighnari, ‘m gonna cum, ‘m s’close.”

You weren’t even sure he was understanding what you were saying, he looked entirely out of it. One particularly sudden thrust of his hips had his hip bone grinding up against your clit and your breath caught, eyes knocking back as the unanticipated friction sent you spiraling, body tensing, crying out as you buried your face into his neck, mind numb and blank as you came all over his cock.

Tighnari let out a string of garbled, incoherent pleas at the feeling of your walls tightening as you came around him, his tail curling around one of your thighs. His hips stuttered and stilled against yours as he followed you soon after, cumming deep inside of you, stuffing you full of his cum with a near-pornographic moan.

You felt hot, and weak, and full. You could feel Tighnari’s cum leaking from around where his cock was still lodged inside of you, warm and sticky as it dripped down your thigh. Your body trembled on top of his, trying to hold back whimpers as his cock twitched inside of you.

His eyes were glazed over as he stared up at the sky, limp against the ground, chest heaving. So damn pretty, you couldn’t help but think again as the moon reflected against his eyes, casting an ethereal glow over his skin. His skin was sticky with sweat and his hair messy and strewn all over his face. You reached out to brush some of his hair out of his eyes, swallowing thickly as he leaned into your touch.

“We should get back to the tent,” you said quietly. Dawn would break soon, and though the prospect of the sight of him splayed out beneath the glow of the rising sun was tempting enough to make you want to stay, you knew it wasn’t an option.

Tighnari let out a soft noise as your words slowly registered, and you bit down on your bottom lip as you let your fingers brush up to his ears again, running your fingers against one of them. You could feel his chest rumble just barely beneath you, eyes fluttering shut at your touch.

After a few moments, you winced as you slid off of him, helping him relace his pants and pull on your own before you shifted to the edge of the water, wondering if you could just go in there to wash up.

You hesitated when you felt a pair of eyes boring into the back of your head. You turned around to face Tighnari again. He was leaning up on his elbows now, his top still hanging off his shoulders, watching you expectantly. He was waiting for something.

“What?” you asked, and he only looked down at the water briefly before his gaze flickered back up to yours.

“There are fungi in that pond,” he said, and you blanched at his words, “they’re rather aggressive. If you had listened to me a few hours ago when I was telling you about the forest, you would know that.”

You stared at him, remembering how he had been staring at you so expectantly, “Were you waiting for me to go in?” Tighnari did not answer your question, which was an answer in itself considering he didn’t shut up any other time. “You’re unbearable.”

“You would have brought it on yourself,” Tighnari said, “I did warn you, you just weren’t listening when I told you.”

The pleasant buzz of the aftermath of your high long gone, you scowled furiously as you rose to your feet, grabbing him by the bicep and hauling him to his feet.

“You are going to find me water to wash up in and then you will bring me to Sumeru City,” you said as you dragged him back toward the tent.

“If you want to go to the city, you will find your own way because I am taking you back to Gandharva, the more you speak the more it makes me think you did go near a withering zone.”

“What is that supposed to mean? … Hey, answer me.”

secret relationships with them. includes xiao, albedo, cyno, childe. gn!reader. modern au! slight college au?. no warnings. wc: 1,428 . semi proof-read.

xiao — [✧]

despite being in the same circle of friends, no one has seen you and xiao interacting outside hangouts. no one has seen you two talking for at least five minutes, either one of you always talking to someone else. and so, no one would think you two are close, right?

in truth, your relationship with xiao was never meant to be a secret. if one were to ask either of you if you two were together, you two would answer the same thing: yes.

though both of you had never agreed to keep it under wraps from your friends, it just seemed as if it was a normal thing to do. you two were still friends, at least to others.

no one even notices the changes when xiao starts telling them that he'd drive you home, always shrugging his shoulders if they'd ask him to drive them home too.

often, on the weekend, when hutao proposes to meet up for lunch, you and xiao always come at the same time—and like always, you'd tell them you caught up to him in the parking lot.

he would sit beside you every time, only because there were no seats left, and hold your hand under the table. sometimes, he places his hand on your thigh, brushing his thumb over them as he talks to kazuha about something you have half the mind to listen to.

though you suppose you aren't hiding your relationship, you don't talk about xiao to hutao or yanfei. they'd never shut up about it, is what you say.

sometimes, when you're saying goodbye to everyone else, xiao waits for you by the corner, waiting for everyone to leave. he'd hold your hand more freely in the car, placing his lips on your hand as he murmurs a small i love you.

because your relationship isn't in the open, xiao is always frowning whenever yanfei brings up another man's name, telling you that you just have to meet him.

still, even if you and xiao sometimes decide on telling them that you have been together for months now, you two find it amusing whenever they seem so clueless. maybe for a few more months, you'd keep it a secret.

albedo —[✧]

keeping everything a secret was more of an agreement made by you. initially, you were afraid of what others would say. you had made such a fuss about not falling for him—because god, albedo was always competing with you in everything.

at first, albedo had pointed out that no one would be surprised should you tell everyone you two were together. they're already expecting it, he says.

but your relentless whining and pouts made albedo agree, only on the condition that you'd start talking to him more on campus.

and no one notices the way how albedo's gazes go from observing to loving. he wouldn't be able to count on his fingers how many times he had looked up from his laptop to find you laughing along with your friends.

if you ever made it to the lecture before him, albedo would tap three times on your table—i love you.

when you walk past him in the hallways, albedo brushes his fingers with yours, smiling lightly as he talks to aether about his new findings.

you always end up in the same places for lunch, with you telling amber and eula that you want to eat in that specific place. eula wonders why albedo and his companions are everywhere you go.

no one notices the lingering stares and the suppressed smiles albedo sends your way. somehow, you are the only one who notices the subtle expression on his face, and he tells you it is meant for only you.

still, as the days pass and you begin to regret your decision on keeping it a secret, albedo would remind you of the consequences, humming as he'd hold you.

and once you finally had had enough of albedo continuing the agreement you both made, you'd come up to him once your classes end, and grab him by the hand.

you'd tug him along after, entwining your fingers with his as he lets out a small laugh, telling you that he found you cute.

cyno — [✧]

no one suspects cyno to be romantically entangled with someone, hell, it is a mutual agreement by those who know of him that he barely had any emotions other than that of discipline and justice.

no one suspects that it is you who had wormed the way into his heart, the stoic and straightforward cyno's object of affection.

even before you had met him, he was always an enigma to you. always hearing of him from your friends but never getting too close to meeting him.

and when you did meet him, he kept you at arm's length, always brushing you off; his serious personality almost pushed you away. hint: almost.

and similar to cyno pursuing individuals who had done something wrong, he would pursue you to the ends of the world, wanting to hold you behind closed doors.

every time without fail, cyno would wait outside your lecture hall, ready to reprimand you so that you'd come along with him. no one knows that he leads you home, your finger intertwined.

because many view cyno as crude, he has vowed to keep you safe from others, resorting to keeping you as someone who has constantly broken rules that he cannot overlook—it is only he and you know otherwise.

despite being seen as a threat to others, cyno often accompanies you at night when you need to submit requirements, talking to you laxly as if there is no other person in the world.

and really, even the people who he considers friends do not know the secret between the two of you, always hiding you from them so as to not let them know that he has one particular weakness.

and being his weakness, when there are no more lingering eyes of those who he considers enemies, cyno takes you in his arms, nuzzling his face by your neck as you'd laugh.

often, you sit across him from his desk, watching as his brows scrunch up, finishing whatever task he had left. he looks pretty, you say, and he simply hums.

and while cyno is eager to let others know you are his, he will have to put up with it for now, keeping you to himself within the shadows.

childe — [✧]

with childe, your relationship with him is more of a game. though both of you had initially agreed to tell everyone else that you were officially together, you had told him a small joke—one that you two laughed about the whole time.

who would confront the two of your first? would it be hutao? or would it be kaeya? maybe keqing if she was nosy?

childe was always touchy, even before the two of you began dating. no one questioned the back hugs, the holding of arms, or the constant poking of sides.

hiding your relationship with childe was easy, at least you thought so at first.

even when you are together with your friends, childe makes it a point to never linger for too long with you, either deciding to sit on the couch with kaeya or argue with xiao about god knows what.

when everyone is saying their goodbyes, childe simply waves at you, telling you that he'd see you next week—no one knows he'd wait a few meters away, watching to see if there is no one else but you who can see him.

and not once have you gushed to any of your friends about childe. you had not told anyone about him holding your hand in the car or him zipping up your jacket.

as the days go by, you begin to grow annoyed at the game you had put yourself in. you were stuck in your own dilemma.

but once, keqing had told you that childe keeps looking your way. just when you had lost all hope—ready to admit to everyone that yes, we are indeed together!—keqing comes to the rescue.

xiao follows after, scoffing that childe has not kept his eyes off your for the past hour. then, you remember that childe had taken one too many drinks for the night.

and not even a minute later, childe is announcing his love and adoration for you. always a lightweight in alcohol, you'd watch as he stumbles towards you, laughing.

at least now the game is over, and no one had won.

NOTES this originally had kazuha in it but i couldn't write him bc i really couldn't envision it in him HSAHHASHS might be my last post for a while as i'm running for honors and i really have to focus on that

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꒰⚘݄꒱₊ 𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 ! · · · ♡

— pairings: heizou, kazuha, dottore, itto x f!reader

— warnings: hickeys (obviously), heizou is a little shit (affectionate), suggestive content but pretty tame tbh, kazuha is a tits man i said what i said, dottore is a little bit (lotta bit) of a sadist, minor bloodplay (?) in dottore’s part, itto also nicks you but it’s an accident this time. this is not proofread btw EL O ELLLLL

— synopsis: how different genshin men like to mark you up.

— notes: technically a part 2 to what i posted on my old blog (found here!). i hope u guys like this as much as i enjoyed writing it <3. i may or may not have started losing steam around itto’s part so if it seems a little lackluster compared to the others, thats probably why and im sorry &lt;/3 i’ll do him justice one day.

THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG! MINORS DNI, PLEASE AND THANK YOU. &lt;3

✧˚ · . SHIKANOIN HEIZOU. ༉‧₊˚.

→ heizou is a playful lover.

→ he adores marking you up to let the rest of inazuma know just who you belong to.

→ can and will feign ignorance when you go to complain about the MULTIPLE markings blooming along the smooth expanse of your neck and collar.

→ “h-heizou, c’mon, you know it’s hard covering these up…” you murmur, lacing a hand through his soft locks as he grins lopsidedly against your collar. he responds by nipping at your sensitive skin, pulling a yelp from you.

→ as a response, you tug his hair back a little and the little groan he lets out sends heat straight between your legs. he grins even wider at you.

→ oh, heizou knows the effect he has on you. he knows how to play you so expertly, as if he were a pianist playing a masterpiece at a recital.

→ “pretty girl, i don’t want you to cover them up,” he hums, cupping your face with a hand. he strokes his thumb lovingly over your cheek. “all of inazuma should know you’re mine. i can’t have other men looking at you, right?”

→ your face heats up at his possessive words, pressing your face closer to his hand as if it’ll hide your flustered state from him. if anything, it does the opposite. he giggles and presses wet, open-mouthed kisses up your neck before he claims your lips with his.

→ maybe you would indulge him a little bit. maybe you’d try a little less harder on covering up the numerous markings littering your neck.

✧˚ · . KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. ༉‧₊˚.

→ kazuha prefers to leave hickeys in places only you two will ever see.

→ he doesn’t need the world to know the two of you are together. the quiet whisper of affection between lovers is more than enough for him.

→ that, and he thinks that it is much more intimate to have markings only the two of you know of.

→ “zu, that- ah! that tickles!” you gasp as he sucks a mark right by your navel, hands gripping the plush flesh of your hips as he grins up at you.

→ he kisses a trail up to your exposed breasts, trailing his hands up higher as he stares up at you with intense crimson eyes.

→ “would you rather i kiss you up here?” he murmurs, planting his lips on the sensitive skin of your chest. he sucks a mark right above where your bra covers you up from him, feeling your chest rumble as you let out soft noises of pleasure.

→ all the noises you made was like music to his ears, his incentive to keep going. “may i?” he asks, tucking his fingers under the band of your bra. you nod your head, but he waits until you verbally say, “kazuha, please.”

→ with a melodic hum, he unhooks the garment with practiced ease and goes right back to making the song he loves to hear.

✧˚ · . IL DOTTORE. ༉‧₊˚.

→ dottore is precise with how he marks you up.

→ it makes him feral, seeing you lying there below him, submissive and pliant just for him. letting him play with you as he pleases.

→ loves watching hickeys bloom across your skin, teasingly nipping at ones already prominent and sore just to hear you yelp.

→ every twitch, every sound you make, it burns into his brain. how could he ever forget anything about his beautiful little pet? marking you up so nicely for the other fatui to see. after all, they must know you belong to him and him only.

→ most the time, he’s careful with how hard he bites. we wouldn’t want to hurt you too much, now do we?

→ but occasionally, there’s a nagging in the back of his mind, telling him to do it, do it, you just taste so delicious. and on days when you act out, or days where you get on his nerves, whether you’re aware of it or not—he decides a little bit of punishment is in order.

→ so he gives in and bites down on the juncture between your neck and shoulder, just hard enough to puncture your tender flesh with his canines, tearing a cry from your throat. his tongue laves over the wound immediately, his senses flooded with the copper tang of your blood. he grins maniacally up at you.

→ “it’s okay,” he soothes you in response to your teary eyes, pressing a kiss over the angered skin. “you know i would never do anything to actually harm you. it feels good now after all, doesn’t it, my pet?”

→ he knows that you’re clenching your thighs together. he knows that you’re a little bit of a masochist—he wouldn’t have it any other way. you were his perfect little darling pet.

✧˚ · . ARATAKI ITTO. ༉‧₊˚.

→ itto is another one of the playful lover types.

→ he’s a little worried he might nip you a little too hard with his teeth, but a little bit of reassurance from you goes a long way.

→ that, and there’s that feral oni urge that nags at him to mark you up so that everyone knows you’re his. of course, he loves it even more if you return the favor, letting you add to the many red markings that already adorn his skin.

→ the gang is never surprised when the two of you emerge from some dark alleyway with matching hickeys at this point.

→ “itto, itto, careful!” you gasp softly as his teeth leave pretty little indentions on the smooth skin of your shoulder, the man in question letting out a little yelp before kissing it quickly (and gently) in apology.

→ “sorry bunny, you just taste so sweet!” he mumbles, kissing your temple. you smile up at him with adoration in your eyes.

→ “s’ok, you know i’ve never minded,” you speak softly, combing a hand through his unruly hair. his chest rumbles with what suspiciously sounds like a purr. you grin widely.

→ with the amount of times he’s accidentally pricked your skin, you’re used to it by now. you would even dare venture to say that maybe it felt good. just a little bit.

→ he hefts you up in his arms suddenly and you let out a squeal of surprise, your legs locking around his waist as his hands cup your ass. you drape your arms over his big shoulders as he grins at you.

→ itto also happened to be an insatiable lover—it must’ve been the oni blood in him. you were in for a long night.

© rinneverse (2022). rbs and interactions are super appreciated !!

you're too good to be true ღ 彡 !

★ — what are the genshin guys' favourite positions?

★ — starring : itto , kazuha , albedo , kaeya .

★ — contains : gn afab reader / individual warnings on each section . minors dni.

༉‧₊˚. ARATAKI ITTO

cws : praise, pussydrunk itto, dumbfucking, getting caught.

it’s no lie that itto is massive. his cock will be struggle to take every single time, and you’ll be reduced to nothing but dumb little babbles when he’s through with you. typically he’ll lay you back against the pillows and prep you, often making you cum on his tongue and fingers a couple of times in order to keep you relaxed. itto might not be the most ingenious man in inazuma, but he was a quick learner when it came to your body and precisely how much you could take.

his favourite position is without a doubt the full nelson. he adores folding you in half as you lay on his broad chest, holding your legs back with his extraordinary strength. itto will coax you into it so gently, promising to take the very best care of his darling, yet as soon as the tip of his thick length is dipping into your warm hole, he’s harnessing every single ounce of his self control in order to prevent him from going feral and fucking your cunt like it was nothing more than a fleshlight.

that being said, itto is most certainly aware that he has the power to break you. he works you up slowly, always praising you as he grows more and more drunk on your pussy. the oni growls into your ear as he thrusts up into you, loudly enough that anybody within a short vicinity of the room will hear. (one time one of the gang members made the mistake of coming in to check on their boss, and they were greeted by the sight of your legs pulled back and cunt fully exposed while the boss continued to fuck you just as viciously as he had when the two of you were alone.)

༉‧₊˚. KAEDEHARA KAZUHA

cw : oral , pussydrunk kazuha.

kazuha is a sweetheart. he gets off on making you feel good, though he certainly isn’t one to deny the feeling of your plump lips wrapped around his shaft. this is why his favourite intimate moments with you are when your both in the 69 position. he truly lives up to his vocation as a poet with the way that his tongue works wonders, beginning with slow, teasing licks to your inner thighs before finally reaching your cunt. every movement with him is purposeful, as the man knows exactly how to get you trembling under his touch (because of this, he’ll usually lay you down on the bed and hover over the top of you).

to be honest, kazuha doesn’t really care that much about whether or not you’re sucking him off. he’s content focusing on eating you out more than anything, though you’ve discovered that if you start lapping up the glistening beads of precum from the tip of his cock, he’ll softly moan into your pussy. the vibrations are absolutely heavenly.

kazuha takes his time with you, kitten licking your clit gently, placing the tiniest of kisses to the swollen bud before truly going for it. your begging amused him, though he won’t tease you to the point that those frustrated tears start welling in your eyes. he’ll spread your labia apart with one hand to give him the best access as his tongue slips into your drooling cunt, eager to taste your sweet essence all over his mouth.

༉‧₊˚. ALBEDO KREIDEPRINZ

cws : none .

albedo might be your textbook experimentalist in the bedroom, but the one thing he really enjoys is seeing your face and etching each expression into his memory. that’s why missionary is his favourite position through and through - he loves watching your face contort in that lustful concoction of pain and pleasure when he first pushes his cock into you.

one thing that the alchemist will do every time without fail is put a pillow under your hips. he finds that it first of all gives a better angle when he inserts his middle and ring finger into your pussy, tenderly stretching you open in preparation to take him. the trick came from a drunken kaeya who was babbling on about his recent sexual endeavours, and told his friend that not only can putting something under his lover’s back should make it easier for him to reach deeper inside of you, but also make things feel more intense for them. the cavalry captain had even gone as far as to show albedo some of the scratches left on his upper arms that had been left on his tanned skin a few nights prior.

now, albedo couldn’t live without it. he had grown obsessed with mentally noting how your body responded to different speeds and angles. he would always slide his hand in between your entangled forms, locating your clit and pushing you even closer to the edge. the man felt his heart swell as he remembered that he was the one making you feel so good.

every once in a while you’d fall asleep rather quickly after sex, and albedo would take the opportunity to pull out a pencil and a small notebook that he kept hidden in his bedside table and would sketch a couple of rough images of your face while he fucked you - it was his dirty secret.

furthermore, another reasons that albedo adores this position is because of how your walls never failed to flutter around him a little bit more every time you heard his whimpers and groans. he’s not exactly the loudest in the bedroom, but being in such close proximity to you meant that you could hear every little noise that escaped that starred throat of his.

༉‧₊˚. KAEYA ALBERICH

cws : spanking , mention of brat taming , praise / degradation , public sex .

though he’s in love with all of you, one thing that kaeya treasures is your ass. no matter the size, he adores watching it as you struggle to sink down on his long cock. that’s why doggy style is his favourite position.

the man is absolutely transfixed on your ass as it jiggles in response to his thrusts, and will even shift his speed in order to suit his fancy. if you’re being bratty or find it amusing to talk back to him, kaeya won’t hesitate to spank your ass a couple of times. hell, he’s so in love with it that every now and then he’ll make up minor infractions that could possibly count as you disobeying him just so that he can slap it a few times.

one thing that makes this position extra appealing to kaeya is the fact that at any moment, he can lean down and whisper in your ear. he’s a big fan of mixing praise and degradation together, so he won’t hesitate to bend down and ghost his lips over the shell of your ear, telling you how wonderfully your slutty hole sucked him in and how filthy you were for clenching around him whenever he spanked you.

kaeya gets hard pretty easily, so when you began to make it a habit of stopping by his office during the day for a spontaneous visit, it slowly started turning into him bending you over his desk and taking you from behind. it doesn’t come close to how badly he could ruin you when you were in the privacy of your own room, but regardless, you had to walk out of the knight’s headquarters with kaeya’s cum dribbling out of your cunt.

do the other harbingers know about capitanos little dove 👀

Capitano never brings his precious treasure to any meetings with the Harbingers, but they've seen you on your routine strolls around Snezhnaya.

For some time now, the Harbingers have been watching his comrade and a pretty maiden sitting next to each other on the same bench, at the loneliest end of the promenade on a small, icy garden that's close to the headquarters.

You two made an odd couple for sure. The first time they saw you, they thought you were lovely but too fragile and frightened, like a little mouse. Sometimes they heard you chat. You more than him, who spoke little, but fixed his attention on you.

The first to really notice you was Pantalone. When he passed by you, he couldn't see your eyes, which were constantly lowered. He only saw your long eyelashes, full of shadow and modesty. This did not prevent you from smiling while listening to some musicians performing there, and he thought there was nothing so charming as that sweet smile with downcast eyes.

The next time he came near you, you raised your eyelids, and your eyes met. What strange and endearing quality does your gaze hold? He could not have said at the time.

You lowered your eyes; he continued on his way. What he had just witnessed was not the dull emptiness of fright; but a mysterious chasm that had parted, then abruptly closed.

He learned at that moment why Capitano held on to you in such a manner.

You were lovely indeed... the loveliest, most valuable creature on earth.

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.

Title: Clear As Porcelain.

Pairing: Yandere!Scaramouche x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.4k.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was as hollow as a doll.

Huh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don't seem very cruel to me.”

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were quiet, for a moment.

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

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

“Consider it our secret.”

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

How do you think Yan!Wanderer would react to his darling trying to hurt him?

He grabs your wrist mid-air and hold onto it so tightly that you swear he is about to crush bone. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"

You struggled against his hold. "Let me go-"

"Shh shh. No talking, only listening." He cut you off, twisting your arm behind you back so that he could easily talk into your ear. "Because I love you, I'm going to give you one warning; causing me any kind of harm is off limits."

The pain was getting excruciating. He might look weak, but beneath that initial layer is someone who knew how to deal damage.

"Now I hope that you have enough of a mind not to try this again. But by all means, go ahead and test you luck. I don't really care, because you're never going to win. Just don't get mad at me for doing the same to you as punishment."

Temptations | Venti x Reader

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Clandestine Rendezvous | Himmel x Reader

If you weren’t so turned on and so touchy, the assignment would have done by now. If you weren’t teasing him, this wouldn’t have happened. If you weren’t wearing that skirt and thigh highs he wouldn’t be so hard right now.

All these reasons he could possibly think of endlessly hovered in his mind, but such excuses turned out so petty when he himself had secretly enjoyed this erotic and salacious “accident” you displayed for him.

Nameless Bard x Fem!Reader

disclaimer: NB is aged up and story is set on modern AU, service top Himmel and power bottom reader

warning: NSFW content, this fic is just pure smut no actual story, multiple orgasm, public sex

art belongs to: ylceon

word count: 11.2k

note: this is a two-part valentine special fic for my beloved himmel <33 i didnt mean to turn this into a valentine special but i just thought hey why not do it since imma eventually gonna post the second part in white day (march 14th)

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