I realized if i didnt get this chapter out soon, ya'll probably wouldnt be getting one till like, june. tears of the kingdom drops on friday boissss
Chapter 8: ding dong, sneznhaya calling
Zhongli x Afab (fem pronoun) Reader
NSFW elements in later chapters
Multi-chapter, Royal AU, angst, mentions of death, eventual fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort
(Wonderful header image made by the wonderful @ainescribe)
The unfortunate part about agreeing to help Zhongli with this was…well, helping Zhongli.
The unfortunate part about agreeing to help Zhongli with this was…well, helping Zhongli.
In the weeks leading up to the arrival of their Ambassador, you had to give Zhongli a crash course in how to impress a Sneznhayan. The northernmost kingdom was often seen as icy and distant, but once you got to know their customs, it was not as difficult as one would think.
However, despite your help, he still insisted you spend the next few weeks resting in your chambers, recovering from your broken rib, which meant it was you and he, stuck in very close quarters as you explain every little detail. You had spent plenty of time in the land of snow in the years he had been gone, after all, you had been set to marry their prince…which is why they were now upset with Zhongli.
“So what was the prince like, anyway?” He asks you one day as you go over things again with him, you wince.
“Ugh Ajax?” you grumble “I mean…he’s alright? He’s not actually the Tsaritsa’s kid…apparently she could never conceive, so she adopted him.”
Zhongli raises an eyebrow as he looks up from his paperwork “Truly? I’m sure there’s some sort of loophole we could exploit there…”
“Don’t try.” You warn him “She loves Ajax more than life itself. It’ll just make more problems.”
Zhongli hums, leaning his head against this hand as he watches you.
“Did you like Ajax?” He asks after a moment.
“Like I said, he’s alright…but he…I dunno…there’s something about him that always kinda freaked me out?”
“Oh? Do explain.” Zhongli presses, watching as your brow furrows.
“It’s… hard to explain I guess.” you start with a sigh “Sometimes he’s great…he’s funny, smart…a genuinely cool person to hang out with…I would consider him a friend.”
Zhongli notes the conflicted look upon your face, and the way you fall silent as you consider you next words, he finds himself invested, what on earth was wrong with the prince of the snow to cause his own little love such confusion?
“Sometimes it’s like…a switch would flick in him.” You eventually manage out after several long minutes of trying to figure out the right words. “So…Ajax has always been interested in combat, he’s a member of the royal guard as well as being the prince….right?”
Zhongli nods, not entirely unheard of…hell, the king had once spoken to Zhongli about the potential of his sons, her brothers, joining the guard…an idea Zhongli had quickly discouraged because…to be honest, they wouldn’t have survived a day.
“No one will spar against him.”
“I mean, he’s the prince-” Zhongli adds.
“No you don’t understand, Zhongli. It’s not that no one will fight him because of his status…it’s because those foolish enough to fight him…don't usually come out in one piece…literally.”
At first, He thinks she’s joking, but he can see it in her eyes, that… haunted look, and he finds himself invested.
“Like I said…it’s a switch…the moment combat happens… he goes from this sweet, kinda goofy guy to… the only words I have for it is… bloodthirsty monster” you sigh.
“Hm…he seems a rather… interesting character…”
“That’s a word for it.” You huff.
“And what of this Ambassador? Do you happen to know him?”
At this, you perk up a little “Yes actually! I’ve met him a couple of times… he’s one of the funny ones that goes by a weird name.”
“You mean like the captain of the guard is literally called Capitano?” Zhongli snorts, you nod.
“Yep, just like that.” you sigh “His name is Pantalone- Don’t you start!”
“Start what?” Zhongli snickers, receiving a pillow to the face “His name is pants-”
“ I know!” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose “I know his name is pants.”
Sometimes…
Sometimes you found Zhongli’s presence a little less frustrating than you used to
—-
“Um…your highness-” Zhongli mutters from beside you.
“I see him.” you grunt; already feeling a vein ready to pop in your head “I thought you said they were sending the Ambassador”
“They said they were”
You pinch the bridge of your nose, already you were very tired of today. Sure your rib had been healed for several weeks, but it had been a very long time since you’d had to dress up this fancily… and you’d even broken out the formalwear the Tsaritsa had tailored for you upon your first visit to them.
“So why then…am I seeing the prince…and his happy gaggle of men…approaching the castle?” you ask, your voice is terse and thin, this was not what was meant to happen, even Zhongli looks absolutely and utterly confused.
“You know him better than I do…” Zhongli sighs, also looking equally as uncomfortable. For all the king he was, it was not often that he had to dress so regally, even you knew he was far more used to chainmail and plate, not heavy, ornate suits.
“Is it to late to back out-”
“Absolutely.”
”Damn.” you sigh, this was about to get…*uncomfortable*
You find yourself standing beside the throne: on Zhongli’s right, as the throne room doors burst open. In the corner of your eye you see both Zhongli’s grip on the arms of the throne tighten, and Xiao, stationed to his left, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword as your ex-fiance bounds into the room like an unruly child.
There is a moment where all is still, as if time stops as his eyes land on you.
And in the next moment, he’s sprinting towards the throne, manic look upon his boyish features. You see Zhongli poise to stand, Xiao taking hold of his sword properly, and then you’re engulfed by strong, and unfortunately familiar arms as Ajax laughs warmly.
This was what you were afraid of.
The prince lifts you from your feet and twirls you like you weigh nothing, as you spin, you spy Ganyu, by the doors, her eyes wide in shock at his display.
“My little krolik!” Ajax laughs as he finally ceases the godawful spinning and sets you down, his eyes are bright and his smile is wide as he looks you up and down. “It’s so good to see you again!”
You don't see it, but you can feel the absolute fury radiating off of Zhongli when Ajax leans in to do exactly what you knew he’d do next, and you thankfully, shift your head in time. He kisses you, thanks to your quick movement, it’s only on the corner of your mouth, before he continues kissing affectionately up your cheek and to your forehead.
If it wasn't for the fact you were trying to pry this idiot prince off you, you probably would have found this situation funny, but there was no room for ruining Zhongli’s day here.
“Ajax…I wasn’t expecting you.” You finally manage to huff out as you push the overly affectionate prince away, but he simply grins, totally uncaring that he’s not yet introduced himself to the King, right beside him. “We were told Ambassador Pantalone-”
“Oh! Yeah as soon as I heard ol’ Pants was being sent here I immediately took over! I wanted to see you again my darling krolik!” Ajax interjects “I wanted to make sure you were alright!”
“Ajax.” you sigh, shaking your head, you knew he was impulsive but this? This was something else entirely. “I know I left in a hurry last time but have you no faith in my abilities?”
“Ahem…” Xiao is the one to finally save you with his well timed, if not violently forced cough, snapping the prince’s attention away from you and to Zhongli, who is raising a none-too-impressed eyebrow at the boy.
“Oh, Right! Heya!”
Heya… this idiot has just come all the way from his home country as the representative…and he greets the king with a heya.
You’re sure the sound of your palm making contact with your face echoes loudly throughout the throne room.
—-
You are thankful that after such a long trip, dinner and sleep is the only thing on Ajax and his men’s minds, you personally escort Ajax to his room and bid him goodnight, if only to know he would no longer bother you. Considering he’d all but attached himself to your arm the entire day, just like he did every time you had been to Sneznhaya since being promised to him.
You did your best to keep him from saying anything… inflammatory in front of Zhongli, you didn't want a war breaking out, but goddamn you also did not want to be here.
Even if watching Zhongli’s eye twitch every time Ajax got affectionate with you was somewhat entertaining.
In order to return to your own chambers from the guest wing, you find yourself shambling past the king’s study…you didn’t even notice the lantern lit inside, until you hear your name called from within.
Zhongli sits, at his desk, a bottle of a fine looking, amber coloured liquid in his hand. As you poke your head inside, he grabs not one, but two glasses.
Honestly after the day you’d had? You don't question it, entering silently and shutting the door behind you before you drop, ungraciously, into the chair on the opposite side of the desk, with enough force that the pile of paperwork set upon the mahogany and gold tabletop shudders.
It’s silent, as Zhongli sets down both glasses and pours the whiskey, there is silence as you take your glass.
There is silence as he raises his own and clinks it against yours and there is silence as you both throw back the drinks.
”That is a prince!?” Zhongli howls as he slams down his glass, the paperwork gives another shudder.
”Excuse you.” you grunt ”that. Is my ex-fiance!”
Zhongli snorts at the exact moment you crack a small grin, he motions for you to hold out your glass again as he refills his own. You share another shot in silence.
“He is aware that he is an ex, yes?” He asks, you shrug.
“He should! I mean…even his mother knows…”
“Is he stupid?”
You look over your glass at Zhongli, raising a single eyebrow.
He pours you another glass as an apology for a stupid question.
“If you are as smart a man as I remember, you will have more of this on hand.” you eventually mumble as you turn the amber liquid around in your glass “we’re going to need it.”
Zhongli scoffs at you.
“This is the youngest of my collection.”
“By the time this is over, we’ll need the vintage.”
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slides in like I havent not written anything for *squints* several fucking months.
the 'morax horny stick' decided to bonk me out of the blue today and so this was born, its quick, its dirty, take it or leave it, heathens.
Morax x Adeptus! Reader (fem anatomy)
NSFW
Smut, Semi public, mentions of war, Morax is a lil on the rougher side, honestly this is just Porn without Plot.
How long had you been in the field now? Two months? Three? You’d honestly lost count.
There was real keeping of time during the archon war, at least not for you; you were an adeptus, here to fight for your archon, Morax.
And yet, you can't help but miss the times… before.
When you would wander the halls of his domain, only for a strong, darkened arm to reach out from his study or his chambers, catching your waist, your sleeve, the sash of your hafu, and dragging you in.
You were…unsure what you were exactly to Morax, a lover maybe? Or perhaps simple stress relief? You did not know, and you did not dare to ask. In the end you were one of his Adepti, and you would fight, serve or fall into his embrace, as he commanded.
Rain pelts against your skin as you slowly trudge up the mountain path towards the nearest encampment, carrying an injured comrade with you. Somewhere in the distance, you see Alatus flit past and you wonder just how he manages to maintain such energy, you don't think you’d seen the general stop for a breather the entire time, at least not until he was somewhat gravely injured…and even then he would only rest as little as he had to.
You pass your comrade off to a more capable healer than yourself before going off in search of food. A bath probably should have been first on the agenda but you just…didn’t have the energy in you for it yet, food first, then bath…and maybe if you were lucky, some sleep.
Yeah things don’t go the way you planned. When do they ever?
As you shovel away a quick meal of rice and vegetables, you cant help but feel eyes on you, but between being too tired to look around, and knowing everyone else sitting around you were just as busy shovelling food into your faces, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
That same feeling lingers as you shamble towards a bathing spring, no time to soak, if you wanted a chance at getting some sleep before you were called to action again, you needed to scrub and go, which is exactly what you do.
Violently scrubbed clean of dirt, debris and blood, as much as you want to remain, you force yourself from the warm waters, quickly drying off before making for a tent, you didn't care who was in there, you just wanted somewhere sheltered to rest your head.
A hand, warm, familiar and strong, rests upon your shoulder, but in your tired stupor, you swing, intending on hitting away whomever had approached so quietly until your wrist is grabbed.
You knew the glow of these hands anywhere, the geo resonating softly through his veins, and you look up to be met with smouldering amber.
“Morax…” you whisper.
He’s caught somewhere between dragon and man, he has the human visage you are used to, the one he used most often to interact with mortals, but his horns and tail were also visible; his horns glowing a faint golden in the low light of the chilly mountainside.
You feel his grip tighten on you, his pupils restricting into slits for a mere moment before blowing wide and you can feel the anticipation beginning to run up your spine.
Yeah you weren't sleeping tonight.
A beat passes between you both before he turns, tugging you along, out of sight of anyone, out of the encampment entirely, and all you can do is stumble along as his massive hand grips your wrist. He walks these mountains like a flat road, he knew them better than the back of his own hand, his strides are wide, and quick as he leads you further from camp, down a slippery cliff and before you know it, into a cave, only to be pressed against the cool stone wall as he practically hikes you up it, your legs coming to rest around his waist as he holds you there effortlessly.
“My lord-”
“Shut up.” Morax all but growls back before his lips crash into yours, long, serpentine tongue invading your mouth in a very quickly lost battle of dominance. His hands claw at your robe, tugging the offending garment apart so he can get at your naked body with ease, your own arms moving to wrap around his neck.
gods, you hadn’t realised just how much you needed this.
The longer you spend pressed between your archon’s warm flesh, and the cold stone of the wall, the more the churning arousal in your gut becomes apparent. You’d been fighting for so long you’d absolutely disregarded your body and it’s signals, and judging by how rough Morax was being, one hand gripping your hip tight enough to leave bruises whilst the other shoves his own pants down to his knees, he must have been feeling the same.
“My lord-” you try again, your own hands shifting up to his horns, grabbing hold to at least try and pull him away for a moment so you can breathe.”Take a moment-”
“No.” He growls, one hand gripping your hips as a pair of fingers push inside your already embarrassingly wet cunt. “The moment I saw you walk into camp, I couldn’t withhold anymore.” he rumbles, smirking dangerously as he watches your face twist with a mix of pleasure and pain as he splays those long, devilish fingers, after so long, you’re glad he at least had the forwithall to stretch you and take some of the inevitable sting off.
“Your body has toned up some more.” He muses as he continues the rough thrust of his fingers, his own body weight keeping you pressed against the wall as his free hand roams the expanse of your body revealed beneath the robe “and yet, despite all the fighting, your skin still feels like silk.”
You can feel your cheeks heating at his surprisingly tender words; there was no small amount of pent up lust edging his tone, and yet he still found time to leave a compliment as his lips descend upon your neck, biting and suckling, leaving a small trail of blooming bruises from your jaw to your collarbone, all while he revels in the breathy gasps and muffled moans he draws from your lips.
That same tenderness doesn’t last long though; the moment he begins to feel you clench around his fingers, hear the way your voice pitches higher, he knew you were close, and instead of simply letting you come, he pulls his fingers out and you whine at him, looking to his face desperately, only to be met with a dark smirk before he quickly, harshly shoves his cock into you, burying all the way to the hilt in one single, harsh thrust that has you screaming, the sudden intrusion enough to send you over that edge as you orgasm around him.
“That's it.” he rumbles at you, his voice caught somewhere between a growl and a purr as his draconic tail lashes behind him, he doesn't give you a chance to catch your breath, his hips setting a brutal pace that has any breath you manage to catch leaving your body just as quickly as you moan into his shoulder. You feel it, every ridge of his inhuman cock, rutting inside of you, a dull aching pain mixed with pure, overwhelming pleasure as Morax growls into your throat, his teeth pressing against your skin, but not quite biting down.
His hands grab your waist, shifting your legs until they’re locked around his hips, just so he can get a better grip on you and take a step back, pulling you from the wall so he can all but bounce you on his cock like you were nothing more than a toy for him. He watches as your eyes roll back, and feels your hands, clinging desperately around his shoulders, one of your fingers finally catching in his hair tie and yanking, you did so love seeing his silky hair free and cascading down his back and shoulders.
Usually, before the war, when he’d pull you in for a night of intimacy, it was a slow affair; he liked to take his time, methodical in every one of his actions.
That was not the case today.
This was a man pent up, stressed, pulled to the very limits and in desperate need of release, and he knew that just as well as you did. His pace was brutal, ruthless, and you cry for it because you needed this just as much as him, something to take your mind off of all the fighting, all the death and destruction, a moment to feel… mortal.
You only vaguely remember the moment he cums inside you, it’s hot, searingly so and it shoves you right off the edge into your second orgasm as your world turns white, a stark contrast to the drizzly grey day.
You wake, the next morning in a tent, re-clothed, rugged up amongst blankets and pillows, your muscles ached, but when had they not lately? Just some…new kinds of ache that made you realise last night had definitely not been a dream.
As if the impressive amount of hickeys you now had to find a way to hide weren't proof enough of your quick foray with the geo archon himself.
You just hoped the de-stressing had helped clear his head a little, after all, you were there to serve him.
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syn. while the divine war rages on, you find yourself entangled in the company of a wounded god and reservations or not, you don't have the heart to let someone die on your watch.
TW. ⸺ beta read, long oneshot like seriously it's over 14k, mentions of war and past death, seclusion and wounds. this work contains 18+ contents so minors, you know the drill, unprotected sex, half-dragon zhongli, reader has no gendered pronouns but has female parts, 4k words worth of smut guys get ready.
LOG. ⸺ this is another repost of this fic after my old account got deleted on accident. taken from my old blog lol, a buffer as i work on my current wip XD. this work has been marked mature for containing smut. readers below the age of 18 / ageless blogs and antis, do not interact.
“i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.”
— PABLO NERUDA.
Curiosity , you learned, was a reckless maverick in every right. Your mother told you of its consequences, of the people who wandered too far from the safety of your village and the watchful eye of your deity, and she told you of their death and the disaster they reaped alongside it.
Curiosity was what cost you — and you knew , you knew better than to indulge in its traitorous little tug when you wake, the scent of petrichor in abundance and the chill of a rainstorm’s aftermath prickling your skin.
“Forget about it.” you tell yourself when you rub the sleep out of your eyes.
“Forget about it.” you tell the reflection staring up at you, her brows furrowed with a familiar sternness. It scatters when you dip your hands into the basin, the icy water stinging your fingertips.
“Forget about it.” you breathe out as you lean against the doorframe of your small home, staring out at the expanse of green and the fog that had settled a few feet below.
Yet here you were , scaling down a mossy slope, your bare feet damp from the dew it trod over and your hair still messy from your sleep. You could dimly recall something the previous night between the rains, between the crash of thunder and the crackle of lightning. It was a sound too distinct and out of place in a storm, something akin to the beginnings of an earthquake before an unknown force cuts its life short.
Your head swivels to the side. You couldn’t see much past the mist save for what was in front of you and you clamber down with a little more prudence till the ground evens out a bit more and the screen before you dissipates. You could see nothing out of place, save for a few upturned trees and your shoulders slump. It was all for nothing , you realize and a tinier voice dares to whisper a spiteful little ‘dammit’ .
You turn, casting one last glance over the clearing, then make your way back uphill. It was a wasted attempt and as you stew in your own self-berating and disappointment, you almost miss the faint crackle behind you. It was just the wind , you reason. There was little cause for it to be anything else. What could possibly make its way up here ?
When you hear it a second time, you freeze, something cold jolting at your bones.
Well shit .
It doesn’t take too long to find the source, save for trudging through the mud and a few of the murkier parts past the tree line — but you find it by the time the sun shifts the barest fraction to the west..
“ Ah — ” was the most your throat could choke out as shock swallowed you whole, like ice water.
There is a trail of gold on the earth, and it leads up to the slumped form of a man, his robes stained with the same gilted shade and his breath leaving shallow puffs of air where he lay, motionless and seemingly dead.
Well — fucking — shit . You mind shudders, your thoughts screaming and splitting up against your head like some panicked beast. It was chaos at its core, it was the frenzied scrape of control.
You were no fool. The man before you, both massive in frame and presence, was one amongst the hundreds of those touched by divinity — god or not — whose names were uttered and praised amidst this war. There was nothing distinctly human about him; not his clothes, not the horns that curled atop his skull and the brown scales smattered across, not the ichor he bled out — nothing .
For a moment, or maybe more, you stare down at him, long and hard as you try to wrangle your rationality back and think of what move to make. You could not afford the trouble that comes with aiding a foreign being and the land you settled on could house any force hostile to the man at your feet. A shaky breath escapes, then another. You were trembling now, just a little, daring to take a step back, then one more.
Kill him , another voice snaps. It was twisted and its words breathed acrid revulsion. Get it over with, he’s not worth the pain.
You consider it, for the tiniest bit of a second till he lets out a shudder and shifts with tense shoulders, his grunts labored and streaked with muted agony — those darker thoughts quickly flatline to scattered anxiety and the hand that brushes the blade at your hip falls limp. Not now, perhaps . You could just leave him here, let nature run its course.
You could do that , you decide with a semblance of confidence.
Of course you could.
Of course .
Your shuffling comes to a stop and you're backtracking immediately, your pace holding an urgent bounce with every step. There is a feverish jerk to your movements when you settle beside him, and a storm of emotions raging in your chest. It does little to ease you — little does, these days — and you press up on his shoulders in an attempt to roll him over onto his back.
It happens so swiftly, a blur of gold and black that shadowed your periphery before you were slammed down with eyes like uncut cor lapis glaring down at you. You scramble, clawing at your neck, at the digits pressed up against your windpipe and your pulse and it beats faster and faster and faster . One tiny move and you’d be left for dead.
( A part of you is stunned — for even wounded and weakened from some unknown, unspoken battle, the quavering power within him seemed to beat strong. You feel a mix of thrilled awe and terror turn in your stomach. )
His gaze hardly falters, roving at your form before his grasp on you releases and he mutters something akin to an apology, collapsing again. His eyes were still open, watching you beneath a haze of pain and deliriousness, stiffening now and then when you so much as move. The strength he showed, no matter how small it was, is gone and there is the slightest hint of vulnerability beneath the stripped layers of stone.
Your instincts scream at you to run yet you stay rooted in place, coming to sit up and hover by his side. In the end, your own concern and pity won out. “Y-you’re wounded.” you try to reason, only to be met with a grunt. You find yourself wincing as you stutter over your words, your voice hoarse from months of disuse. “Please, l-let me help. My h-home is c-close b-by.”
Feeble , you chide yourself amidst it all, old, old regrets tearing at your mind and clawing at your thoughts. You shut your eyes, letting your muscles relax and you try again.
Tugging at his arm serves to be fruitless. He was too large for you to carry over and your first attempt gives that away well enough. The gold in his veins seems to dim with the passage of time and you fear his life slipping away under your watch. “I n-need you to w-walk…” your plea is almost caught in your throat and you have to wrench it out to let it be heard. He tilts his head your way. “You’re too h-heavy…” you try to reason.
Another grunt sounds out and thankfully , his form rises. You’re quick to move to his side, supporting him against your shoulder, the thrum of elemental energy strong beneath your hold. He practically oozed it and it feels like what the storm felt like — the trembling earth itself.
You don’t say much after that, leading him back to your home, your hand and clothes staining a bright gold.
Perhaps your house would have been a little cleaner had you known you’d have a guest over. When you lead the the being inside, you scan the small space with a sense of perplexity, hoping he wouldn’t scrutinize the sight too much ( your mother always seemed to emphasize the need for a well kept living space — should she see you now, you know she’d be rolling in her grave with indignity ).
He stumbles a little, letting out a guttural snarl and you flinch, almost dropping his weight onto the floor when you feel claws close down on your arm and press against your scarred skin. You hiss softly and he gives a little jolt, his hold on you releasing, leaving little but the crumpled sleeve of your tunic behind.
“How much — ” he cannot finish the sentence, his nose wrinkling up and he almost looks a little feral underneath the light.
“Just a l-little more.” you assure, cracking the barest of smiles as you cross the room and lay him down on your bedroll. He was tall enough as is, and you think his horns would scrape up against the ceiling of this house should he stand upright.
The bedroll itself was pathetically small beneath him, but you couldn’t throw a fuss about it, working away at his clothes in relative silence, steeling yourself up in preparation for the worst.
The clasps and the belts and sashes are undone by nimble fingers and as the layers peel away, you come to a stop. It was not a pretty sight, his wounds, the clawed lacerations criss crossing across his torso like patchwork. You doubt you could salvage much and you almost give up at the spot, pulling away the rest of his clothing. The worst one splits across his chest and you look to the side, battling out the vertigo and the nausea threatening to creep up.
He’d have been dead at this point, had the blood in his veins be that of a mortal’s and not something inhuman. In some convoluted sense, he was lucky.
Stop cowering , you hiss internally. Pull yourself together .
The sound of rustling clothes is all you could hear after, followed by the clinking of metal and the sharp tang of alcohol. Your movements are almost robotic — and you had done this plenty of times before, cleaning the wounds of children and soldiers. But this wasn’t home and you doubt any soothing words would stoke at the feelings of a god.
When you return to his side, his forehead is damp with sweat.
“ Shit — ”
His skin was warm . Could an immortal being fall ill? Was that even a possibility?
“I will be fine.” he rasps out and you jump, snapping his way as you hold the clothes closer to your chest in defense. He turns his head, peering at you and you think you see a stubborn glimmer beneath the usual masked strain and impassivity. “My wounds will heal in time…I…only seek shelter till they do…”
“Absolutely n-not.” you reply, splaying your palm out on his stomach to keep him still as you clean away the dirt and dried blood. The shallower wounds were slowly closing up again. “You’re in no state to argue right now.”
His mouth twitches and there is a momentary flash of teeth. You try not to let it frazzle you as much despite his initial protest, your movements slowing to a more delicate pace as you bathe the worst of his lesions till you were satisfied with the lack of dirt caking his body. “It seems choice no longer holds to be a luxury.” he utters under his breath.
“No.” you agree. “It does not.”
He falls silent, a petulant turn on his lips. “Are you a healer?” he asks. You bow down, unwinding the linen wraps you had stored away.
“My mother was.” you finally admit, your posture straightening. “I learned what I could from her to aid the people in my village. I never studied medicine formally, however…” you trail off. Talking seems to grow a little easier the more you speak. The hoarseness was slowly giving way and your stuttering grew less frequent.
“And I take it you shall try to help me as you do with any other human?” there was a sardonic sort of amusement in his tone that has you bristling. “Your medicines and methods will not work on an Adeptus. Put your tools away, you only waste your time.
“Adeptus…so you hail from the settlement south of Mt. Tianheng?”
“You’re ignoring my words,” he accuses. You bat your lashes at him innocently.
“Small talk.” you shrug. “You can tell me everything you want after I’m done tending to you.” you meet his gaze, tumultuous gold melded with an orange-red. He narrows his eyes, his unfocused vision scanning you, then the house, then at the bandages you held before he leans his head back with a defeated sigh.
By the time you conclude your task, he has fallen unconscious, his breathing deep and his heartbeat unnaturally slow for a human. You look down at your ruined clothing, at the stains at the hem of your tunic and at the sleeves and you hope you can salvage what you can from this, moving on to change out of them and fish out a cleaner pair of clothes.
The smell of petrichor still persists through the day, the sky brewing with the makings of a new storm. Perhaps you had lost track of time and the monsoons were sitting in sooner than expected and you move on to salvage whatever you’d left outside to dry and board your windows up for the incoming onslaught.
The man wakes when night falls, form set aglow against the dim lamp light.
“Let’s change your bandages.” you offer. He doesn’t protest this time, painfully sitting himself up with gritted teeth as you get back to work. His skin still radiates that uncomfortable temperature as you press up against it. You might need to get a wet rag ready lest he overheats
He speaks after the silence persists. “You shouldn’t see me like this.” it comes out as a whisper so soft, you almost miss it. His face however holds a distant look, with a hint of disappointment lurking within and you tug at the linen a little harder. You’ve heard that before, from the lips of men and women who had too much to hold and little weakness to show. You wonder what it would entail for a warrior, or a being whose years spanned farther than yours, to sink as low before a stranger.
It must be hard.
“We all get hurt sometimes.” you smile, hoping to lighten the air with a bit of humor ( it was getting too heavy, the air in the room ). “I’ve lost count of the number of times I've hit my head…and you think I'd be a little more cautious given my studies…”
A poor joke stays a poor joke no matter the delivery ( and yours was weak to begin with ). He does not say or do much, save for a slight twitch in his jaw and an unamused tilt in his head. You shrink back, skittishly throwing his used bandages aside in favor of new ones with a hasty “Nevermind.” on your tongue.
“Do you truely not know who I am?” he asks, his touch skimming the sheets absently. You shake your head, confusion and that damned curiosity slowly lurking and clawing its way to the light. You want to stamp the ugly feeling down and out of sight. You try to. It does not disappear. He continues, “What of the civilization south of Tianheng?”
A shrug was the most you could manage. You guess that was where he hails from. “I know it’s the domain of a geo god, and that beings touched by longevity, ally beside him. “My old home is far, however, and our god hid us away from the world…my knowledge on this is sparse.”
You’re almost ashamed to admit it, to acknowledge the bubble you had grown within, accepting the suffering of the men and women who ventured out and returned with broken bodies you and your mother had to fix. You weren’t sure what sort of terrible dichotomy it was, to live in ignorance amidst blatant horror and blood, and you don’t wish to return to it.
He seems to take this in, his eyes training up at the ceiling, then upon you with a lidded stare. “Who was your god?”
The icy set to your jaw was a hint he picks up on and he does not further the topic.
“...I am from there…from Liyue.” he says instead, in recollection of your previous question. The settlement was a distance from here, a few days worth of journeying by cart and hardly worth the risk of the travel with the demons that lurk and the gods that warred.
“What’s your name?” you ask.
His lips curl again, but it’s less of a grimace and more of a smile, his fangs tucked away to show a visage less feral, less dangerous. You find yourself relaxing a bit more unconsciously, seemingly charmed by this simple action ( and the thought almost scares you ). “What is your name, mortal?”
Ah, he wasn’t going to make this easy. You’re tempted to tug on his bandages a little harder if only to spite him.
You don’t reply till you are done with your chore and you lean back, massaging your stiff fingers. Your name slips out of your lips then, the action feeling natural in defiance of the years spent hardly having a friendly face within your home, save the occasional traveler. The adeptus seems satisfied. “You may call me Zhongli.” he replies, his voice softer, raspier.
“Zhongli.” you repeat. Zhongli .
There is a rustle of fabric and his fingertips brush against yours, the touch nearly having your arm lurch back in muted shock. He seems unphased but you — you watch a soft light shimmer through the dimness of your walls. When it fades, a single visage of gold stares back.
“It’s your reward. For aiding me.” there is a medley of pride and contentment and you liken it to that of a child offering a messily put together gift. Gold is coveted by most, but has little use here, and you have little use for it. But the gift is still cupped within your hands and you hold it as if it is something precious.
( Oh, your heart trembled just a bit and you feel a lump grow in your throat, bigger and bigger till you dip your head down out of his line of sight. )
His eyes bear down on you harder, set aglow and unyielding.
You smile to hide your trembling frame, thoughts revolting within your mind like the beat of war drums with a mix of unease and appreciation. Yet, who were you to question Zhongli’s secrets?
Maybe hypocrisy runs deeper in your blood than you initially assumed.
Mist dances at your fingertips.
It weaves and spreads and obscures the light and the woods around you and you run through blindly as the skin beneath your feet tears and the chill of the night clings to your skin and leaves behind dew and sweat.
You could see nothing; nothing save the pale glow of the moon above you as it tries to break through the barrier and light your way. It cannot, for Balam’s magic conjures obscurity, and obscurity was worshiped.
But you were human and you were curious and the voice that called your name was so familiar and warm and you wanted to weep and run towards it. The mist will not stop your folly and you will keep running to appease that growing thirst. In the end it will cost you.
The sound of your footsteps cease. The mist thins out and at the end of the veil, you poke your head out for the first time to witness the world outside. A set of teeth, white and sharp greet you. Then another and another, till the darkness itself glows as it does beneath the moonlight.
You hear her voice. It comes from the open maw.
The demons spot you and you run again, feeling their jaws clamp down and tear through muscle and bone and you scream and scream and scream at the white hot agony and the very feeling of your nerves set aflame before they numb.
Your curiosity cost you.
You wake to your fingers clawing at your shoulder with labored gasps and Zhongli panting, his fingers gripping at the sheets of the bedroll and his brow furrowed. You blink away the sleep in your eyes and tug the blanket off of your shoulders, shakily making your way to his side. His skin was hot again and panic lights in your chest, like the incoming winter.
“Fuck — it’s gotten worse.” you mumble a few more expletives as you stumble out to collect some more water and the few mistflower corollas you had stored away within your cabinets, hoping the elemental energy in them hadn’t dissipated completely. Setting the bucket down by his bedside with the corollas nestled within, you hiss at the cold pricking your palms and the frostbite coming to form.
Never mind that! The fucking adeptus is going to melt .
Oh my, thank you for pointing out the obvious!
The cloth bath was set to a near feverish pace as you feel him twitch and convulse through the chills wracking his body. “Hot — ” he groans.
“It’s the fever.” you mutter, tugging his pants down, your eyes unconsciously trailing down the slope of his waist and dip of pelvis, then avert your eyes before you could see any more, face flushed whilst a cloth was thrown onto his hips to spare him some decency. “You need to cool down…please, stay still.”
His hand comes to grip your arm and the dormant strength within it, one etched into his very being, was frightening. The adeptus’ sights were set upon you, the fever-addled state of his blowing his pupils out till only a thin ring of gold remains, shining through the light of the oil lamp, brighter and brighter. You pull away and rest your free hand on his with a soothing squeeze.
“You will be okay.” you assure. “It will come to pass soon enough. Let me take care of you for now.” You coax him to stay still as you continue the cloth bath, wiping away at his clammy skin while fatigue continues to weigh down on your shoulders and tug at your eyes. “I know you’re hiding something…and if you…if you’re one of the gods, then you must live. You’ll have people waiting for you…they need you, at a time like this.”
He lets out a weak exhale, shakily sitting himself up with sudden urgency. “ Liyue… ” he whispers, gait faltering and you steady him as he leans into you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. You struggle to push him back down atop the bedroll, his breaths growing pained with the passing seconds.
“Liyue.” you nod and repeat. “You need to go back soon, don’t you? You’ll have to heal first, and for that, you must rest.” The cloth is pressed against his temple now, wiping away sweat all while the smell of petrichor grows stronger. The searing temperature hasn’t subsided and hopelessness stirs inside, an ugly feeling, a familiar feeling ( it was worse than your curiosity — it always was ).
Zhongli leans into your touch, his fingers tangling against yours. “ Stay… ” he whispers. You cease your movement as his body shifts and presses against your lap. “Stay….” he repeats.
“I…I’ll stay.” you slump in defeat, resting his head on your lap. Lightning flashes outside your window and the walls seem to shake as the rain comes pelting down. You continue the bath, listening to a leaky spot in your roof and the incessant downpour rattling against the tiles. Zhongli seems to still, his breaths still weighed down by that terrible heaviness.
The rain continues. His fever grows worse.
Then the pattering slows down, and the flush on his skin comes to cool. By the time the rains stop, his fever breaks and you lean against the wall of your home, shutting your eyes as you nearly weep, your worries allayed.
Morax was the first to wake in the early hours of the morning, the scent of petrichor pervading his senses followed by the faint lull of jasmine. Then comes the warmth and the softness, one his claws unconsciously dig into with a groan shuddering out of his chest.
It was you , slumped against the wall, lost in your own dreams and too tired to notice and the sight makes him swell with a conflicting mess of emotion. Then comes the pain, the aftermath of his fever coming to tear at him, at his limbs and his tendons till he ceases his stubborn movement and lets his body fall slack.
He does not understand your intent, but the faint memory of that familiar care against a muddled haze stills his tongue and his suspicion. Your muffled words, your hand in his, everything, blurred away yet so clear.
Humans were strange, so fragile, so determined…
“Fool…” he murmurs. The last of his strength is used to draw the blanket over your shoulders. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Sleep calls him again, and Morax shuts his eyes.
The jasmine lingers, stronger than most. He lets it swallow him whole.
You come to realize how much you hated it, the loneliness.
Your home was far removed from civilization, settled between regions and away from main travel ways that weren’t blocked or destroyed. The quiet of your house was nothing like the bustle of the town you hailed from and the chaos that accompanies the stalls in the early mornings. The most noise that encloses your small plot of land were the local wildlife, the creaks and groans of wood born against strong winds and the weight of snow and the distant battles fought over the horizon.
During arbitrary moments of your routine, you question why Zhongli landed here of all places, in the midst of nowhere. You wonder if this is some grand scheme or punishment for your past mistakes and when you feel your curiosity dare to skitter forth and poke more holes into your blind acceptance, you drive it away with an angry hiss.
He is not an unwelcome guest, even if he holds a sense of urgency at times and a well kept secret whose nature you suspect . It’s almost comforting, no matter how contrived it seems, listening to him speak of an obscure plant or hearing his heavy footfalls a few days after his arrival.
How desperate are you? The bitter pride in your heart speaks up, and it’s seedy and unhappy as you straighten out the drying sheets over the heated slab. Where is your self preservation? Your brain cells? You’re smarter than this you fool —
“Is something wrong?”
Zhongli’s voice snaps you out of your reverie and you start, nearly dropping your laundry on the grass.
“Nothing!” and it is a weak save on your part as you straighten the worn down basket to move to an empty patch of stone, ducking under to check the state of the flaming flowers underneath. His hands come to rest on the surface and he lets out a soft exhale, his eyes slipping shut in a seeming moment of peace. “You should be resting.” you remind him.
“I believe I'm past the need for excessive bedrest.” he intones with an amused lilt. “Do you need help? It is partly my fault you have far more work to sort through.” He wasn’t lying. What little linen you had was used up to change the sheets on your bedroll before his fever broke. You had little clue how illness amongst higher beings were treated, but simply washing the contaminated cloth was the best option you had on your for now.
Ah, sometimes you regret not moving closer to a town.
Your reply was short, when you notice the silence being drawn out for a little too long. “That does not mean you should strain yourself. The less of a load you place on yourself, the faster you will heal. I’m sure you are needed back at your colony. The war is far from over.”
The comment seems to tug at his emotions, a stern moroseness settling on his face. “That is true…but I trust my fellow adepti to hold the lines in my absence.” you bend over to collect another sheet from the basket, the hair at the back of your neck prickling when he moves behind you. “Even so, I should hasten my return.”
“Then — ” The sheet is snatched from your hands and you watch Zhongli step beside an unused slab to lay it across the surface, a mischievous smile touching his lips. “Oi!” you snap, reaching out to grab it.
“However,” he continues, ignoring your protest with a look of innocent serenity. You want to squawk, to stamp your foot down childishly and you almost do, your movements stilled by you clenching your fist to curb it. “I’ve fought battles with wounds far worse and won. Menial chores are hardly a labor and if it means aiding you then I shall take it.”
You let out a groan in defeat and push the basket between the two of you. Zhongli was preening in his small victory, setting the clothes out to dry with relative ease. “Guests shouldn’t partake in chores like these.” you repeat the line your mother had uttered so many times, one amongst many of her favorite maxims.
He watches you from his spot behind the stone slab, a contemplative haze clouding his hues. “I simply return the favor. It is the nature of a contract, to balance out what is given with due compensation.”
He isn’t going to let up, is he?
“Fine, fine…you can help me collect a few mist flowers later.” you concede.
“What do you need them for?” he asks, collecting your laundry basket as you kneel upon the grass, blowing some air into a patch. One of the flowers is set alight and you sigh, letting them burn awhile as you feel your fingers retain a little more warmth in them.
“Preservation…I use them to make my herbs and food last a little longer…it’s not easy, coming across certain ingredients for a decent meal…” You let out a dry chuckle at that, which melts away into a mildly sheepish one. Even if you bear a slight annoyance to your choice of settlement, and even with the debilitating isolation that came with it — it was still home and it was still safer than most.
Zhongli takes this in, a hand resting against his chin. “I see…cooking is not a part of my skill set…unfortunately. But a friend of mine intends on relaying an old recipe of his should the war end soon. Perhaps I could pass it on to you, if you don’t mind it.”
It was an oddly sweet gesture coming from him and you hum, a genuine smile spreading across your face as you consider it. That also meant opening a tiny window of opportunity; a chance that you may see Zhongli again. The thought stirs a clash of emotion, of fear and of excitement and dare you say it, hope and it feels warm and cold and all sorts of things at once. “I’d like that…granted you don’t accidentally poison me.”
He feigns annoyance as his head tilts to the side, quietly regarding you. “You overestimate my inadequacy. The last time I did partake in the culinary arts, the worst outcome was an offhand crystallize reaction and a burnt stove.” he pauses. “Besides, my skill in brewing tea is decent.”
Oh Gods —
“I’m just being cautious.” you laugh a little louder at that, holding up your hands in defense. “Dear Lords though…I hope that friend of yours is prepared then. You might turn out to be a genius in cuisine or a hopeless case.”
“Then I hope for the former.”
You grin, hanging up the last of your clothes. “If you turn out decent…then I wouldn’t mind sharing some of the recipes passed down to me. I couldn’t indulge myself in them as much, but i hope you may come to like them.”
Something in Zhongli’s eyes softens and he nods. “And I would like that in turn…” he utters slowly, watching you clear away any dry branches and grass close by. His fingers absently brush over his torso, where the bandages stay wrapped around him. You catch the subtle purse of his lips and the twinge in his jaw. “Do not be concerned…” he snaps up to meet your worried face. “I am fine.”
“...Right.” you knew it wasn’t wholly a lie. Zhongli proved to be a quick healer, perhaps a trait passed down by his inhuman lineage. But these displays of vulnerability only played into the damning knowledge you knew before; of the hidden fragility the gods held. “Come on…I think it’s time we get those bandages changed.”
Zhongli smiles but it doesn’t quite meet his eyes. Another secret , you think sadly, taking his hand as you lead him inside, taking in the momentary warmth he held even if his skin didn’t quite feel like skin or that they glowed a bit too bright between the cracks of your fingers.
You don’t ask him to collect the mist flower corollas again, staying at home with him with some tea set at the table for him to sip on while you inspect his lacerations. There was some idle chatter over dinner and Zhongli spoke a little more about his home.
“You’re going to leave tonight, aren’t you?” you ask suddenly, your voice soft. His words die out and you try to still the sharp edged pain in your chest. It refuses to fade and you accept the growing weight with an unwilling gait.
“Yes.” he whispers, setting his cup down and he looks ashamed.
“Then go.” you mumble. He opens his mouth again but you hold up a hand. “I…I know your name is not really Zhongli…it’s not is it?” His silence was damning and you finally piece it together, the knowledge you learned from your village and from your travels, no matter how meager, painting a slow picture in broad strokes.
The stories depict Morax to be more of a beast and less of a man. You would have glossed over it as well,expecting a dragon instead of the visage of a handsome stranger.
“I take it you’ve come to a conclusion.” he muses, looking a little apologetic, a little ashamed. “I never intended on deceit but the nature of our meeting called for it.”
“You were afraid I was going to kill you?” you guess. Zhongli — Morax laughs and shakes his head.
“Even in my weakened state, you would have been incapable of it.” well damn . “I feared someone of greater power would catch wind of talk of a wounded god…but given your lifestyle, they held no merit. I apologize though…I know you may have suspected a while.”
Morax smiles and you try not to battle the disbelief that a good sat across you, eating your food and drinking your tea. “However, I have a question to ask you.”
A pause
“What became of your deity?”
Your breath seizes and you meet his gaze. His stare seems to hold so much more weight to it and you look down. Your old god was a memory you sought to bury away well out of sight. Recollecting them only brought in a bitter taste and a dull ache and Morax notices it. “That’s a story for another day.” you finally manage out after some deliberation. Your tea has gone cold by the time you take another sip out of it, the air feeling heavier again. You wrinkle your nose at the taste.
He nods. “Then I will return and pay my debt in whole as well.” he decides. “Your kindness is one I shall remember, little one.” You hate how a part of you melts into this buttery, weak mess and when he smiles, you hate how it’s so easy to feel yourself tear at the seams, to beg him to stay a little longer. “Thank you.”
He was gone the next morning, a fresh batch of mist flower corollas left behind in an earthen pot alongside a delicate flower preserved in amber.
“Good riddance.” you tell yourself, the words feeling forced.
You will miss him, you think.
He returns three months later, or maybe it was more. Time was easy to lose track of and the seasons were all you had to know of a passing year. By the time he arrived, the last remnants of winter had receded and you found yourself in the midst of spring, restocking your stores and setting soup to boil in the hearth.
Should I bow? You think when he appears at your doorstep. Extend a greeting? Address him by his title? Your great eminence…no that sounds pretentious… You reminisce about your old customs, of the times you spent watching your mother lay out scented flowers and fruits at the feet of your deity during festivals or during victory feasts. Morax however, steps inside with a smile in greeting, his hand coming to tuck some stray hair out of your face.
Then comes the deja vu.
You question why his arrivals were always timed on days when your home was a mess.
“Wait! We can talk outside.” saving the last few traces of your dignity is all you had in mind as you blockade the entrance. It would hardly do any good, you realize then; he was tall and he was far bigger and when he stops with a puzzled look and scans the room and the traces of stalks and unswept and unused parts of the herbs you were sifting through, a glint of understanding flashes in his eyes and he steps back.
You want to sink into the ground with the traces and remainders of you. Oblivion seemed a tempting option with the way your face burned and your heart hammers at a pace nearly hard to keep up with.
“My apologies.” he utters, letting you lead him outside. He does not seem as bothered or flustered, thankfully; nor does he pry as he erects a few makeshift seats sculpted from geo and sits himself down alongside you with a soft sigh on his lips. “I wish we could have met sooner,” he admits.
“Is that so? It’s hard to believe you’d bother…” you hum with a shy dip of your head. Morax considers this.
“Did you not ask for it?”
“I did…but I accepted the possibility of you not returning.” you cease for a second, recalling your promise to give him the answer he sought. It felt like a cheap trick, back then and it still does now, of you running away as you always did. “I'm glad you came back though…it was nice having someone around to speak to.”
Moax looks pleased with this. “I simply find your company enjoyable.” you feel a stirring in your stomach when he says that, and it feels like a wonderful sort of sweetness, like honey. “Even if our first few days spent together lacked any delicacy in approach.”
“You were quite stubborn.” you admit.
“I was, wasn’t I?” he agrees. You snicker.
“I wouldn’t blame you though. Even I had a hard time staying still when bedrest was forced upon me…how have you been?” your fingers slot together as you pull your knees closer to your chest, your cheek resting against your thigh as you watch the scenery in the distance. The mist had abated, just a bit and you could see the copse of trees expanding then scattering as the plains began.
Morax exhales. “As I’ve always been.”
“Stubborn?”
“ Busy .” he corrects, flashing you a look of warning. You grin innocently. “The war has come to a temporary standstill. Only smaller battles seem to keep up…with the weaker gods mostly weeded out, planning our next move is of importance. I only have a few hours to spare now before I leave for Liyue.”
“Oh…” you take this in. Perhaps this was a sign of the war slowly coming to a close. Maybe during your time, if you were lucky enough, or in another hundred years or so. “Then…tell me about Liyue.”
Morax raises a brow but he smiles, humoring your question. “What would you like to know?”
“Plant life? What’s it like there?” you supply, leaning forward in quiet anticipation.
He chuckles. “Not of the people? Or its history?” he asks.
“You can tell me that too!”
He hums, his gaze softening. “It’s not uncommon to see mountains in Liyue,” he admits. “To say our weather has a stark contrast in the plains and the peaks would be an understatement. Juehyun Karst, the realm of the adepti is pleasantly cool most of the time, but the plains are hot and humid. That being said, our flora seems to take on this diversity as well…”
He tells you about the yellow sand bearer and the gold ginkgo trees that spot Liyue’s landscape, of the horsetail that covets the marshes and the reclusive glaze lilies that grow within the terraces. He tells you about the silk flowers nestled amidst the red bushes, always found in pairs and the violet grass sprouting forth off of cliffs. And he tells you of the qingxins that turned away from the warmth of the plains and grew in the distant peaks, looking down upon Liyue as a whole.
There was a sort of magic, listening to Morax speak of his nation with a layer of fondness and sadness.
“Maybe when the war ends, I’ll visit. I think I'd like to start a garden some time.” you hum, surveying the empty patches of land in front of you. It would be nice to have a few more flowers around to brighten up the monotony you have grown accustomed to. His expression shifts, a brighter shine lighting up his eyes.
“You could stay there if you wish.” Disbelief rattles through your ribs and it steals your breath and pushes against your lungs. You fall silent, ceasing the anxious play with your clothes. “I could find a place for you amidst my people…would you like that?”
There was disbelief, yes, and a stutter in your words, but there is also the pang of appreciation and the tingle at your fingertips. However cold dread settles down ( for it is an old bedmate ) and Morax seems to catch on. “Have I misspoken in any way?” he questions, his hooded gaze appraising.
You jerk your head. He had it all wrong and the last thing you need is a messy misunderstanding to fall into your pile of terrible mistakes. “No, no…I don’t think I'm ready to return to a land ruled by a god…or even around so many people…not yet…” you couldn’t bring yourself to word it out and it shames you. You are an adult. You needed to speak like one.
There is a faint brush on your cheek, the barest hint of a touch and when you look up, you see the suspicion he holds paired with concern. You want to shrink back, make yourself smaller, unknowable, something you were before he came along and made you care and vie after company and something as simple as touch.
“I assume it has something to do with your old settlement?” he asks.
You nod.
“We were hidden behind our god’s mist and illusions…our people were cut off from the rest of the world save a few soldiers and those who joined our god in battle. My mother would accompany them sometimes…she’d tell me about the world outside and we promised to visit a lake just a short walk from the barrier…” you hold out your hands, trying to grasp the words she had tattered. “She called it starlight on earth…or…something like a mirror clearer than any metal she’d seen. I wanted to go, but we were not allowed to leave.”
“You were not?” Morax asks. He leans in, listening closer.
“We were not.” you affirm softly. “Or god never spoke it…but we knew. They talked about demons lurking out and we were scared. One day…I couldn’t find her amidst the returning line of soldiers she left with…I did later…and I couldn’t even stand to look at the state she was in.” you stare ahead, the weight of his gaze resting even harder now. “I don’t know why…if it was grief or curiosity or a mix of both…but I thought I heard her voice one day…calling out to me. And I knew it was a trap, but I ran towards it, out of the forest, and the mist…”
You swallow hard. You felt cold. Cold all over, like that night, where the silence was unsettling and the sound of your name was a taunting whisper. Your mother, it was your mother, rigid at some times with her own rough edges and flaws, but loving for the most part. Your mother — and it was an old hurt you had locked in a box a long time ago, that time had weathered down till it was the embers scraped to the side of the charcoal pit.
“They were right…my deity warded off those things that attacked me…but they were bleeding everywhere . Balam was strong , but as a god…I doubt they held much in par to some of the others who warred out there…” Like you , you almost add. “They were weakened…unfit to fight in a state like that and we tried what we could. The wounds didn’t heal as we thought they should. I was banished for endangering their life and as I traveled…I heard of Balam’s passing in the hands of an invading god.”
“...and now, I'm here.” you finish, wryness coating every syllable. You wished your apathy was more than a weak front to bury away the stab in your heart; you wish you could be stronger than the coward you are. Morax shuts his eyes, his arms crossing over his chest.
He looks a little more like the god you were told about; sharp, pragmatic, with a presence that looms over most. “If there was a law that stated so, that forbade stepping out of your deity’s territory, then yes, you have committed a wrong. I have heard tell of Balam, whispers of their whereabouts and they did try to protect your people from a harsher way of life…”
Ah, so that was his response. You wilt a little, feeling a mix of fury and defeat, at Morax, at the gods, at this war and at your own childish stupidity and audacity to even dare to feel this way. “I see…” you mumble. Morax holds up a hand, cutting you off. The words die in your throat faster than embers in snow.
“But,” he behind and his expression pulls into something gentler, lacking the initial rigid sternness it held. “Demons are still a force to be reckoned with. Even my adepti struggle with stifling down their noxious presence, whether it be the weight of karma or a disparity in power itself.”
Coherency is now a lost subject.
“I doubt you could have resisted its influence and Balam knew of the battle they would throw themselves into. Your god was willing to make that sacrifice, something of a rare sight amongst a few of the divine. Remember this well.”
A lump grows in your throat. It’s not an unwelcome one, quietly easing the nerves that crackled and frazzled beyond possible repair. You look down at your hands and your eyes slip shut as you take his words in, bit by bit. Balam was a god who, while distant within the front lines of battle, still loved their people.
It’s ironic how the gods can be capable of human sentiment and human error.
“Thank you, Morax.” you mutter. “I needed that.”
“The bitter truth, or the comfort?” he jests softly. “Because while I deal well with the former, my skill with the latter falls abysmally short.”
You laugh softly.
“For both .”
( His eyes light with surprise. Then you spot it, the faint flush on his cheeks and a dangerous thought enters your mind. You shake your head. It was best you didn’t raise your paltry hopes . )
He does not visit for a few weeks, but you spot a few saplings left behind at your doorstep, of plants and flowers you had never seen before.
You pick one up and a single word echoes in your mind — qingxins .
A smile tugs at your lips.
The distant noise of battle has grown reticent.
You tell it to Morax on one of his visits and he dares to flash a knowing smile in response. “The war is coming to its close. Only a few handfuls remain.” he states, tracing your bandaged hands; a new set of souvenirs from a stray whopperflower. You shiver involuntarily, leaning into him a bit more while longing tears your insides raw. “Hopefully you will come to enjoy an era of peace soon.”
“Will it end soon? The war?” you ask, wincing a little when he presses his fingertips down on the afflicted skin, bathing it in honeyed gold. “Ah! Gently!” you hiss, pulling back on reflex. Morax holds you fast, drawing you back to him with a playful tut and a sheepish glance your way.
“Apologies. Is this alright?” The pressure on your wrist still brings forth a sting, but it’s far more bearable. You nod. “Alright. Now hold still …” The glow returns, as does the tingling warmth and the tense nervousness gives way to a content sigh as the pain ebbs to obscurity. You watch your bandages fall away to skin mostly unblemished, save the faint traces of a scar left behind. “Better?” he asks.
You nod. “Much better…I wonder why you didn’t try healing yourself earlier. You’re not too bad at it.” he wasn't. Only a few humans were ever imbibed with the grace of divine power. You always longed to be gifted with the strength to heal, and you feet the slightest hint of envy as you take in the sight.
Morax blinks. “I was in too weak a state to do so. Healing is not my greatest strength either…I simply learned it, should it come to use amidst battle.” he flexes his fingers, the last flickers of gold falling away. His gaze meets yours with its usual intensity before he reaches for your other hand.
“Hm…I suppose this means you’ve paid your part of the debt?” you tease. “You’ve healed me as I've healed you, right?”
“True…” his lips quirk up as he mends the last of the burns, then presses a delicate kiss on your knuckles. “Does this mark the end of our contract?” The gesture only serves to fluster you further, bringing forth the feeling of fluttering warmth and the near lightness in your chest. Morax chuckles, his voice dipped to a teasing whisper as he calls out your name in a low, purring timbre.
“H-hold up!” you choke out, terrified of potentially overheating as you push his face away, stifling away the shy laughter that threatens to burst out. Morax shifts closer, closer still, his close presence having grown familiar through the meetings and the shared conversations and meals ( you missed the gentleness in his touch, you missed so much of him ).
“Hm? Stop what?” he teases, a cheeky glint lighting up in his gaze. “My, your face feels warm.” he adds with a soft simper, tilting your chin his way as he scans your features.
A desperate attempt to shift his attention comes to form. “Look at the qingxins you gifted me! They’re growing nicely, right?” you try to smile, looking at the flowers growing just a small ways from your home. Morax hums.
“They are. Give them a few months and they will come to bloom.” he replies, his wandering touch tracing up your arm, grazing at fragile skin and faint scars and the sensation has you shuddering. The glow in his eyes brightens and he huffs out something unintelligible, then asks you, “Would you like me to stop?”
You fall silent. “No it’s fine…” you sigh, reaching up to grasp his hand gently, ignoring the phantom stings as your finger splays out over Morax’s palm, at the dazzling gold dipped at the edges fading away to a spider web of veins and dark scales. “I like this.” you hum. Morax blinks, his cheeks coloring pink.
The intensity burns brighter in his gaze. It scorches at his touch and in the way he looks upon you now and as acute as it was, you felt blanketed beneath a safe warmth.
Morax speaks up, “I will make sure this war ends soon.” It was a promise, holding the weight of his blood. You feel it in every syllable, every rise and drop in his cadence. He leans in and the spice in his scent pervades your senses.
His lips are softer than you expected, mildly chapped from the heat and the battlefield, and between the buzz slowly beginning to sound off in your head and the feel of his touch brush away at your hair and rest on your cheek, your heart hammers hard in your ribcage. You feel the earth shift and watch the sky sweep away as you fall back on the grass and Morax palms at your hips and kisses you some more.
It feels like a distant dream, something you’d rather not wake from and when he pulls away to look you in the eye, you watch the smirk in his face grow as he dips down and buries his face into your neck, his pace languid, his claws gentle against the softness of your skin. You bite back a stray mewl when his teeth prickle down on sensitive flesh, slowly and deliberately making his way down down down, and his hand pressing flat on your thigh.
A glow flickers within his chest. He stops and tugs away with clear frustration, heaving as he watches you try to recover from the fog clogging up your thoughts, the memory of his touch warming every inch of you. Morax chews at his bottom lip. “I am needed again.”
“...oh…” you croak out, even if you wish to scream at the unfairness, to pull him back down atop of you and finish what he started. You shut your eyes, easing at your frayed nerves at the trembling and the traitorous dampness that was gradually settling in. The god in front of you holds a shadow of amusement and he kisses you again, gentler, with less teeth and tongue and more tenderness.
“I’ll come back,” he whispers. It holds another promise masked beneath the assurance, it’s cheekiness lighting his gaze.
When Morax’s form departs, you let out a shaky sigh, one hand delving into your heat while the other clamps over your mouth. The moment your slick coats your fingers, you moan into the silence, the promise persisting.
Morax thinks about you when the rains fall once more.
He thinks about you on the battlefield, waiting with that patient smile.
He thinks about you when his adepti fall and the last god is slain — when he finds his numbers dwindle, their blood staining his victory. He holds that memory of you close, that cherished warmth. His little flower.
Morax thinks about you. And he longs .
You came to know of patience’s workings through the days and months in between Morax’s visits, and this one is his longest thus far. The war persists still, the sound of the heavens screaming slowly growing quieter as deities were felled and the lands were stitched together by victories and defeats. You wonder where your old home lies now beneath the seven seats, what it would grow into in the near future.
Then one day, you wake to complete and utter silence.
The war is over. The roads had cleared. One day, when the world stills just a little more and the last few scars left behind have healed, you could try to visit the towns and cities beyond your isolated home.
Morax stays absent. You go on with your life. The qingxins he gifted you bloom in your garden. You wait, shedding away the accusatory remarks, the words that dare you to doubt his victory, that take your mind to darker spaces with the image of his still form and cold hands. No, absolutely not, you could not doubt him .
You repeat it over and over, beating down at the cynical whispering. Do not doubt him .
A storm rises again, blustering through the lands with the threat of tearing your home down from its stubborn foundations. You stay inside, the change in weather setting forth a persistent chill that your meager hearth could hardly hold against. Finally, after a few hours of running about, your body hunches over the blocks, feeding the fire with the last of your firewood.
“How much longer…” you mutter, storing away the last of your herbs when the rain refuses to cease and it grows harder to differentiate between night and day. The lightning thunders in response, asserting it’s long stay and you curl up by the warmth you fed, numb fingers gripping at old blankets and watching the rain beat down incessantly on your roof. It would be a long wait, you realize. It’s best if you find a way to pass the time.
There was another clap of thunder, then a crash that felt all too intimate with your memories. Then came the knocking and you scuttle up to let a drenched Morax in, his pupils blown wide and his body hot to the touch as he stumbles in. You’re almost afraid he’s fallen ill once more, but the insistent tug at your wrists has you follow him.
“Are you okay?” you ask, seating him down by the fire, moving to dry his hair after draping a sheet on his shoulder. “Morax, what’s wrong.” Despite the sudden appearance, you feel relief crash down and tug out a lump in your throat. You hold back the tears for his sake. You did not want to startle him in this state.
“A visit.” he shrugs.
“In this weather?” you question every ounce of wisdom he holds. He looks unbothered, pulling you closer to him while you squeeze the water out of his tresses, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. Warm breath pools out and hits your neck and a shiver racks at your body. “Morax — ”
“I missed you…” The hoarseness of his voice steals the words in your mouth. You latch onto him tightly, fisting at his robes, uncaring of the silk wrinkling beneath your rough hands. Morax does not stay silent or stay still, his hands sliding down your sides, pulling you closer up against him. “I missed you…” he repeats feverishly. The hunger in his stare is an answer enough.
The fire crackles and lets out a sputter.
Morax lays you on your back with a gentle thump and hooks a hand beneath your knee, pushing it up against your chest as he steals a kiss from you, heated and impatient after weeks of mulling over his affection and lust. “Stay still.” he orders as you squirm a little, wanting more, needing more, trying to bury yourself into him as much as humanly possible.
Your open mouthed breaths did not help in the slightest as he steals another kiss, then another, the wetness of his tongue delving deep down your throat as he muffles out any sounds of shock from you —
— was it forked ?
You could not ponder over it for long, choking against the invading muscle while his lips caress yours with growing need and intensity. It made sense, for one like Morax — who adored talking about the origins of an obscure tea leaf to the festivities that littered the streets of his city — to fancy the act of kissing you. And he still keeps kissing you, over and over till your head spins and his body is pressed up flush against yours.
He noses at your neck with a noticeable huff, fingers dragging up the side of your hips, slowly, deliberately, till they tug at the hem of your clothes. Molten gold catches the anxious excitement bubbling within you and your eyes and you catch the smirk on Morax’s face.
“I’d like to continue.” he sounds breathless.
“ Go on then .” that threadbare line that held you together had snapped now. You do not think you could wait any longer than you have for him. Morax chuckles, bending down with a narrowed gaze till his nose brushes against yours.
“I haven’t finished my statement.” he chides and you don’t know what is worse, him dragging this out to a near painful pace, or the hand that caresses the inside of your thigh teasingly, drawing out a stray moan from your lips. “If you feel overwhelmed, or you wish to stop, we must establish a safe word.”
He waits expectantly and you scour your mind for the first word that pops into your head. “Squid.” you decide, shifting your hips closer to him. Morax lets out something between a wince and an amused chuckle, his hand leaving your thigh. You wine in protest, grabbing at his wrists to pull him closer.
“So needy.” he lilts. “Are you sure you want this?”
How cruel , you think unhappily, unsure of how to take his consideration; a loosely veiled attempt to drive you further into wanting or a call of sincere concern. You think you know Morax. You think it’s both.
“ Yes !” you cannot wait any more and neither could Morax, his claws curling round to clutch and tangle at the back of your head while he captures you in a devouring kiss. Your own experience hardly held a candle to his own practiced ease, but you do what you can, groaning into the clacking of teeth and the teasing little nips he leaves on your lower lip.
His thumb traces down the side of your neck and hooks at your clothes, tugging away at the fabric to stroke your now bare shoulder. Morax leaves no trace of skin untouched by his lips and he brushes down the line of your collar bone, his teeth flashing in the candle light till you feel him bite down at the spot with a muffled growl.
The rush of pain and pleasure has you pressing your face down into the mattress with reeling shock, any moan held back in the midst of the hazy shock lighting up inside you. The action was mostly unintentional, but you were glad it could have saved you any further embarrassment in Morax’s eyes.
“Not a sound?” he asks, licking his lips with a predatory tilt to his head, regarding every inch of you with voracity. You stubbornly refuse to respond, lips sealed tight with a set of eyelashes batting up at him. Morax likes a chase and you give it to him, no matter how small it may be. “No matter. We’ll see how silent you are by the end of the night.”
The words hang in the air like an impending omen. You do not doubt him.
His voice dips to a sultry whisper as he undoes your top and lets it slide past your shoulders and down your waist till it was bunched to the side and lay there forgotten. The storm rumbles outside your window, and the wind prickles at your skin. Between Morax eyeing you down, mapping out every detail with his fingertips and the chill in the air, your arms instinctively move to hug yourself.
“No.” His word was stern, absolute as he tugs at whatever covers your entirety from his gaze. “I’ve never seen you this shy before… adorable .” he purrs, stroking your cheek.
“ Tease .” you test out.
Morax’s expression lapses to a playful smile in the midst of your indignation, leaning back to watch you with clear intent. He guides your legs around his waist and shifts you partly atop his lap, gently moving your hips to a slow grind against his torso. The sudden stimulation draws out a squeak, your cheeks set aflush.
“ Beautiful… ” his claws linger over your chest before it trails down to stroke your stomach. “You’re so soft , little love…” they stop at your shoulder, raking around the scar settled there, gnarled marks and torn flesh left behind by talons and teeth. You feel the flare of doubt and self consciousness flare back up, but it fizzles out when he bends to leave a kiss atop it.
It was hard to find a spot that he did not touch. Morax was precise, diligent, learning what spots made your squirm and whimper and shake beneath him with white hot pleasure. The rain’s roar was a distant muffle between the pleasant buzz in your head and Morax’s ragged breaths sounding in the otherwise quiet room. He hunches over you, nosing at your neck with near obsessive need, nipping, kissing — anything to cast on some semblance of his scent and essence.
Your chin nestles atop his shoulder, your sight trained upwards, oblivious to where Morax may choose to touch you next. The clinking of metal does draw in a few questions, most quickly answered when you feel his clothes give way and settle on your stomach. Then comes his teeth, sharp fangs sinking into you. You hardly register the moan you let out, or the heat that you sink into, desperate for more, for more skinship, for more of Morax.
“ Beautiful .” he repeats, a growl bleeding into every syllable, down to the rumble in his chest. He still donned his pants, but most of his clothes now lay scattered across the mattress, pushed aside a moment later with an impatient huff.
You have seen Morax bare chested plenty of times before, when he first arrived wounded on the slope of your little mountain home. There was no denying he was a beautiful man, sharply lined with the faintest of silvered scars scattered beneath stark gold tattoos. “ Morax .” you mutter, lacing your fingers into his, tugging at him instantly. “Keep going.”
He smiles.
“Patience.” he croons. You squeeze your eyes shut and hold back the swear resting on your tongue. “I have waited for so long…” his teeth don’t hold the old hesitance it did, now wholly marking you with delicious bruises and love bites. “...and I intend on savoring… ” his lips linger on the line of your jaw, tickling your ear. “... each… ” they brush down, down, down. “... bite… ” and true to his words, he sinks his teeth down again.
Your hands tangle at his hair, his hair tie snapping to your insistent tugging till burnt brown strands pool around him. He looked a little wilder, with how his eyes glow beneath the shadow cast on his face. You comb through them with a soft “So pretty.” earning a flattered hum whilst he cups your breasts, chanting your name lovingly.
You gasp at the feel of a soft pinch on your nipples. Morax lights up, a dangerous splay of his fangs flashing in your field of vision before he engulfs one breast within his mouth, suckling, biting, devouring greedily and the other grows sensitive to his slow strokes. “M-Mor–AX!” Your mewls peak and your hands grab at his shoulders, his back, at the sheets — somewhere , trying to ground you to the sensation.
( He could hear your racing heart beneath his grasp and the sound of it makes Morax purr with an emotion so old and primal and possessive. )
He pulls away with a wet pop. “How do you feel?” he asks.
“H-hot.” you barely manage to blurt out. “Hot everywhere.”
That smile was back again, the one with the barest flash of primality. “Hot?” he repeats. You nod. It was hot, in your cheeks, your chest and your stomach and core — and you could hardly bring yourself to wait. With Morax’s resolve to take his slower pace. You curse his patience. You wish he was just as desperate.
“I am.” he muses nonchalantly, ducking down to take your other breast in his mouth. “I crave every inch of you. I want to hear you sing, wǒ qīn'ài de .” his hand drags down, teasing the inside of your thighs with circular strokes. You buck your hips into him with a pathetic whimper, and Morax pounces at the lapse, tugging your underwear down with a single fluid motion then pushing his fingers into your drenched heat.
“Oh how obscene.” he lilts, a delighted shine in his eyes, momentarily bringing his slickened digits for you to see. “You’re drenched.”
“ Shut .” you snap, a depraved cry cutting you off as he teases at your entrance with one finger, thumbing up your core till he settles on your clit with a peased grunt. Your hips snap and shudder, tears slowly pricking at your eyes. It was an odd sensation, a buildup of pressure far greater than what you could coax out that tightens in your gut.
Morax slides a finger in, slowly, gently. “ Ah — ” you bury your face into your mattress, spreading your legs further for him. He continues his slow thrusts, in and out and you revel in the sweet sensation. “Feels — f-feels good — ”
His scrutiny comes with its merits, stroking your walls with an out of place gentleness as he watches every shift, keen and whine with a deep found appreciation and yearning. “You’re quite tight , little one.” he rumbles. You warble in response, bucking your hips into him as the pressure steadily builds and builds and builds.
“I’ll be adding another.” he decides and he does, a second finger slipping in. the stretch stung and you fist at the sheets with a groan.
“N-no…t-too much — ah!” The broken whimper does elicit a sympathetic look from him and he kisses away the tears, thankfully easing his movements.
“I know, little love. I know.” you sink into his warmth, melting at the delicacy in how he holds you close. “But we’ll need to prepare you, don’t we? And you’re taking me so well too…” you think you are when the pain slowly subsides and the pleasure returns, your very being trembling when he scissors you. “Ah, witnessing the state you're in…it makes me wonder how well you’ll take something else of mine, hm?”
“M-morax!” you squeak, cheeks flushed. The embarrassing squelch from your core shuts you up immediately. You decide you’re better off muffling out your moans out of petty spite at this point and you seek your refuge in the covers, burying your face into your mattress.
Ha! You think, naively, foolishly, daring to assume that Morax would fold at the face of a challenge. A third finger slips through and the moan is smothered. You think you hear him chuckle and you think you see the excited flash in his eyes as he shifts and twists your body, laying you down on your stomach.
“So stubborn.” The delight is apparent in his cadence. His hand presses down at the small of your back, then his torso presses up against you, continuing his slow and agonizing thrusts with practiced pace. “The vitriol in your silence hardly diminishes how soaked you are. Your body is far more honest, it seems.”
“ MMPH !”
You gasp, feeling his fingertips stroke your g-spot, pulling you apart at the seams and chipping away at your mind. Everything feels distant and muddled and the pleasure was almost too much to bear. “Does it feel good when I touch you here?” you shut your eyes and curl up, bucking up into him uselessly. His weight restricted your movements and you doubt you could wiggle away for a temporary respite ( even if some masochistic part of you liked the deluge of sensations pile up steadily ). “I need words.”
Another thrust. You wail into your hands, whatever dogged decision to stay silent, now shattered. “Yes. Yes — P- please!” you haven’t the foggiest clue what you’re begging for at this point, but the fullness you feel from his fingers alone is enough. “L-like that. Morax please keep going.”
He adds a fourth finger.
“You keep tightening up…” he whispers, as if trapped in a trance of his own, your head lifting to press against his bicep while his movements momentarily slow to ease you in before his pace picks up and that slow, brutal torture begins again.
You squirm, squeal, bite into his arm with vigor. Morax laughs, kissing your temple with comforting croons. “Good.” he coos, dipping his nose into your hair with a victorious purr. Your thighs squeeze around him and your hips jolt forth. The pressure steadily building up in your stomach seems to crest while you chime out his name. Your orgasm seeps closer and closer and closer —
He pulls his fingers out and you bite back a cry, a protest, tears pooling out as dismay settles fast. Was it something you said? Was it something you’ve done? Why did he stop?
“Why…” you manage out, stroking his hair. Morax raises a brow then slides down, his lips latching onto your inner thigh with a groan. You fist at the sheets again, a vague idea coming to form between the haze and the jumbled confusion and disappointment and it sets a spark of excitement.
A pause.
Morax meets your gaze.
He smirks.
You stifle back a scream when he bows his head down and laves at your heat, catching the receding traces of your buildup and letting it reel in steadily. His tongue was greedy, warm, devouring you whole as he slicks it through your drenched folds, and — oh gods —
Whatever praise that you cry out turns into a feverish mantra being babbled out over and over, the sharp mountainous air taking on a headier scent. Your validation was enough to spur him on, it seems, every bit of Morax, from the practiced gentleness to his eagerness to undo you coming to shine with the fervor of a starved animal.
“ Good .” he growls out, claws digging down a little harder into the softness of your thigh, his teeth and tongue grazing and toying at your clit. You clap your hands over your mouth once more, a squeak cut short, only to have them pinned down by him. He flashes you a warning glare before gold light illuminates your wrists and you feel the weight of geo press them down to your chest.
The cuffs were heavy, and they did their job well as you could only grab at air while his licks grow more languid. Your thighs were pushed back with a single fluid movement and a flustered cry escaped with your sudden exposure.
“Ah — ”
You tug at his hair, drawing out another delicious moan from his throat. Liquid gold appraises you, taking every detail in, between your fucked out expression and your twitching body. Morax presses against your sweet spots, and you could have sworn some strange magic were at play, with every careful thrust and every slow vibration. You could hard;y word out the state you were in, your mind all cotton wool with little thought.
Overwhelming…indescribable…that was a way to put it.
Morax does not complain about your growing insistence, your moans growing louder, your thighs squeezing round his shoulders, your attempts to free yourself from the stone shackles he placed on you.he must be just as far gone with your arousal in his mouth ( and that was true ). You hope he won’t turn to cruelty like the last time and deny you of your orgasm. It was a delirious pitch in the back of your mind, a soft cry.
“I-I think i’m close — ” you gasp, feeling that knot grow tight as the tell tale spill of an incoming release shudders up your spine and fingertips. Morax looks at you, the gold of his eyes wide and his pupils blown out with suppressed mischief. A well-timed thrust from his fingers served your undoing.
“Go on then.” he relents.
You sob into the sheets gratefully, pleasure rippling through as the coil snaps and you crumple and sink into a state of unawareness. You could only just register Morax sitting up, thumb swiping at his lips, licking away at the mess you made, smeared between his thighs and on him. “S-sorry!”
He shuts his eyes, quiet bliss washing over him. “I could devour you here and now…” he mutters in indulgence. He rubs your sore wrists down, pressing kisses against the expanse of skin with an apologetic smile. “You look tired. Shall we stop here?”
Alarm lines your features. “What about you?” you blurt out, bug eyed and still fatigued from your orgasm. Morax doesn’t respond, laying down next to you. You feel a bitterness line your mouth and you find yourself pushing your body up and crawling atop him. Morax opens one eye, amusement quirking at his lips.
“Oh?” he doesnt bother feigning surprise as his clawed grip settles on your hips. You try to hide yourself, embarrassment from your bold move hardly aiding in your focus as you slide his pants down and stare, he bore two of them, standing erect against your stomach. You helplessly glance at him.
“You’re…you’re big..” you tell him dumbly. “I-I don’t…I don’t think I can take both of them…” Morax chuckles.
“We’ll take it slow then. You only need one.” he decides, helping you up. You steady yourself on his shoulders, carefully laving your entrance with him before you lower yourself onto him, feeling the first telltale sting that has you stop with a whine. “Careful.” he speaks up, rubbing at your sides and you try to be, taking him bit by bit. Morax stretched you out in a way his fingers couldn’t and his second shaft rubs at your sore clit, leaving you jolting with sparks of pleasure.
He was roving every inch of you, biting down at his bottom lip when you clench around him. Every bit of him screamed of his self control hovering a step away from a more viscous beast. You don’t think you’re ready for what Morax tucks away in the corners of his mind, but you hope, hope that you could indulge him some day.
You were soaked enough for him to slip in with ease, a collective of your and his arousal trailing down with an audible squelch every time he dared to grind up a little more against you. “Fuck….” he whispers out, a rare lapse in demeanor. “D-does it hurt?”
“No.” you shake your head, a half lie. It stings, yes, but the slow haze of euphoria was pressing up and you knew he would stop if you showed the slightest sign of discomfort — and you did not want him to stop. Not with this lovely warmth, and with him holding you like you were the most delicate of flowers.
The sound he makes is animalistic and he thrusts, just a little, into you. He could hardly help himself, seemingly just as lost as you were ( and he was, with his parted lips and fluttering lashes ). You curl into him, pressing your face into his neck. “That’s it.” he whispers mindlessly. “Wonderful, y-you’re taking me so well…don’t rush now…”
You take the rest of him, seated snugly on his lap with a shaky mewl, tears pricking at your eyes. Morax bares his teeth, groaning freely as the air itself seems to crackle against you. You open your mouth, trying to say something, anything, but he pins you down with a single look. “Little minx .” he rasps.
A laugh bubbles up. You wonder if it’s from amusement, or from the overwhelming rush of dopamine or both.
He kisses the corner of your lips, gathering his bearings. “You’ve had your moment of fun, little love. Now move .”
“Yes sir…” you sigh, and do just that, lifting your hips just a bit before you rock back down onto him. “S-shit…s-so good…”
Morax hums, pursing his lips. His face was flushed and the tattoos on his arms were cast in gold and light. He takes matters into his own hands, pounding up into him with sudden force and your teeth chatter and your eyes roll back with a pathetic whimper.
A few marks of your own were delivered, from your nibbling as Morax continues to thrust up into your drenched cunt, and from your nails scratching at his back. His approval was punctuated by a particularly hard one, that made your head spin and had you see stars. You vaguely register the scent of petrichor through everything else.
“ Morax — ”
The state you were in only behind to sink in. That he was inside you, that he was taking every chance to draw out these obscene sounds from your lips. Even gods could not escape the perversion of mortal desires. Was this even considered blasphemy at this point, when he seemed to be stuck on the same boat as you were, sinking so fast into his lust?
“ — so good for me .” he guides your legs around his abdomen, whispering your name with a weak whine. He bites at your neck, at the marks he inflicted, then soothes them with kisses. He rubs your back and strokes your hair, his tender touch contrasting against his rough movements, grinding into your sweet spots and paired with his second cock rubbing at your clit, you could only lose yourself a second time.
That knot tightens and you feel the onset of your release. It was close, fast coming and you tug at his hair to warn him. Morax growls, his tail winding round your ankle. You try to keep up, try to ride him, but his pace far outmatches yours, stretching you out, pulling you flush against him. You let him use you, your monks reaching a feverish peak, grasping a taste of heaven on your tongue.
“Morax — ah!”
He curls into you, around you with an engulfing embrace with whispered words being uttered into your ear, “Do you want to cum?” You jolt your head. “Then cum… ”
And the bliss washes over you as you finally find it, slumping up into Morax;s patient arms with a near boneless stance. Your eyes met his, the hunger that still rages as he watches with awed fascination at how you come apart and piece back together again with teary eyes and a debauched smile.
“Beautiful.” he mumbles, then presses you face first into the sheets, still sheathed deep inside you. You only just realize he still has reached his own peak yet when he moves, absently reaching out for a pillow for you to grasp.
“God…M- morax — ” you were tired but with overstimulation settling fast and your own desires to see his pleasures being met, you bite into the pillow with a helpless whine. There was a rush in the pain you felt, from feeling all that pleasure wrap into a tight knot while he slicks back and forth into you, hitting your g-spot again with insistent grunts. His pupils were blown wide, like he was trying to take in as much of you as he could.
“M-more!” you blurt out then wince, feeling a hint of shame prick at you for being so greedy. It was about him now; sure you could put your own needs aside.
Morax however, smiles. “ More ?” he coos. “You want more?”
A gasp. You feel his hand settle on your clit, his untouched cock brush against your thigh. “Now who am I to deny you?” He continues his rough thrusts, godly stamina barely denting at his reserves and his pace. Perhaps that came with being an adeptus, this unending virility and endurance. Morax kisses at the back of your neck, laying down more marks to serve as a reminder for the next few days ( that you were, undoubtedly and irrevocably his now ).
Wanton moans pour out easily. Morax delights in them, carefully stimulating spots that were sure to bring the most out of you. The initial phase of searching and mapping out and learning was long gone — he was always quick to pick up on things, and things that make you fall apart into a quivering mess so easily were no exception.
It feels so good. So good —
“Do you want to keep going?” he asks. You feel sore in the best of ways and you nod. You don’t want him to stop. You don't ever want him to stop, drunk on the overstimulation, the euphoria, his cock, him —
Morax lets out a shaky exhale and slams even harder into you. “You’ll be my undoing...” he whispers and you turn your head, catching a glimpse of him. His straight faced composure was long gone, what careful parts of him he keeps hidden from sight having fallen over. Claws prickle at your ass, his eyes are trained on you, you you and when he meets your gaze, he captures your lips in a heated kiss.
“What kind of spell have you ensnared me with, little love?”
You could say the same thing. You try to, cut off by a rough grind on your clit. A lump builds up in your throat, vaguely recalling his small gestures of affection, his admissions, through your heat hazed mind and you arch your back into him to catch another kiss. Morax never needed to say the words and you were fine with it.
“I love you.” you tell him instead, taking everything you had to get your tongue to move. Morax freezes up. He shuts his eyes and strokes your cheeks and buries his face into your neck.
“My Qingxin.” he whispers, tenderly, lovingly. The faltering in his pace, the sloppier jerks of his hips, then undertones of strained control beneath his moans signal his release. You grasp at his free shaft, and the gasp that echoes out was a rewarding one as you stroke him along into his release. “In or out?” he grits out, stuttering for a second. You feel the drag of his cock against your walls. “In.” you blubber.
You blank out after, feeling the rush, the fullness, him spilling out of you, between your legs, onto the mattress, over your stomach. Morax lets out a shudder, his marks glowing a faint gold before he pulls out. His hand does not leave your clit. Coaxing your third peak out with gentle kisses and insistent mumbles. The pain was sharp but you drink it in, pride lining every crevice of you till you jolt, that pressure finally releasing.
“Thank you.” you mumble. Intimacy was always so foreign, and a kind touch was a far away thought. Morax settles down, pulling you to him as he kisses away the drying tears and the sated touch starvation. He kisses you on the lips. Then the tip of your nose. Then at the bites he inflicted.
“Rest.” he whispers.
The cadence of his voice made it hard to disagree with and you feel unconsciousness wash over you fast. You could vaguely make out the sheets being changed and a damp cloth washing you down.
Morax’s weight next to you was the last thing you register.
“Are you well?”
Morax could count the number of times you sought refuge beneath his arm, eyes roving the stalls in the harbor with caution and nervousness. Your jumpiness was an expected clause, and a slightly endearing one as he walks you along the streets as a mortal man and his lover. There were no gods in Liyue Harbor today, at least none the people were aware of.
“Zhongli.”
He turns his head. “Yes, love?”
You fall into earnest silence. “I think I'm going to freak out.” you say. As taught as a bowstring against him. You grip at his hanfu tighter. “They’re staring. Why are they staring?”
“I suppose a new face does bring raised brows. That…” he dips his head down, nose brushing against your cheek with a loving chuckle. “...and you look exceptionally beautiful today, love.” You tug at his sleeve. “Ah, would some food ease my flower’s nerves then?” another tug. He takes that as a yes.
Even so, Morax knew you. Qingxins were flowers that know the intimate dangers of the mountain side and the bustle of the harbor below. You will grow, as you do and you will adapt as you do, maybe slowly, maybe quickly. He knows not to rush it along and he contents himself with your company and your curious question and the bliss on your face when you try a skewer.
“Liyue is beautiful.” you admit after a while. “Crowded, but beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m not used to this.” you tell him for the umpteenth time, quick, apologetic and Morax has none of that ( why would he ever see it fit to fault you? ). He takes your hand, pressing a fluttering kiss on your palm.
You shoot him a flustered glare. He smiles. “We’ll take our time. This old man has much to spare.” and he does.
Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Hollywood AU / Modern AU / Zhongli is married in here, but not to reader / Slight age gap and mentor-student relationship / Infidelity but not really / a bucketload of angst / mature themes so read at your own discretion
The moment your eyes caught his from across the room, you knew this would be the most difficult role you would ever play.
After all these years, absolutely nothing had changed. His fleeting glance, the gentle smile on his lips, the sound of his voice, his gentlemanly demeanor, the way he carried himself, everything about him effortlessly triggered the rapid beating of your heart. He still affected you the way he did when you first met him. Whether or not that was a good thing, you would find out.
This was the first lead role you had been casted in. It turned out, he was the one who had brought up your name in front of the director. He had that sort of influence in this industry, being the seasoned and respected actor he was. Even Director Hu had to take his professional advice and suggestions to heart. You were initially taken aback when your assistant informed you of the news, thinking your ears were playing tricks on you.
Zhongli had always been your idol, all the way back when you were still attending acting school. You got to meet him on set several times, each time was like a brush of the shoulders, fleeting but memoriable. You were always playing side characters, so once your scenes were done, you'd quietly disappear. Still, he remembered you, gave you guidance like a generous mentor, sharing pointers and techniques to help you improve your performance whenever he caught you hiding behind the set memorizing your lines. He was like a beacon to you, someone you couldn't help but admire, someone you longed to catch up to. If only he could wait a bit for you, perhaps you'd have mustered up the courage to tell him. He never gave you that chance.
When Zhongli got married, you were genuinely happy for him. His wife was beautiful, brilliant, and well-recieved among his fans. She was his perfect match and they had known each other for so long. They were close friends before they became romantically involved. You buried your feelings and began rejecting every script that had his name attached to the production. There were plenty of roles you could take. The film industry was big enough for the both of you, without forcing your paths to cross.
While the personal lives of celebrities were often more complex and messy than even what ends up on the trending page, Zhongli did not have that sort of reputation. His acting portfolio was impressive, a testament of his devotion to each and every role. Everytime he pulled on a costume, he gave himself to the character. His acting was meticulous, layered, made the viewer forget he was playing a character.
You often hear about actors falling in love while in character. The on-screen chemistry was sometimes so convincing, the audience would insist it was real. When you gaze into Zhongli’s eyes and utter words so ironically aligned with what you had been holding in for so long, you imagine that's what viewers would see through their screens. Even the tears streaming down your cheeks were giving their best performance. Not a strand of hair was out of place. Your expensive waterproof cosmetics ensured you cried prettily as he crushed your heart on screen.
The warm breath from Zhongli's lips formed wispy clouds in the frigid air. He was apologizing, saying he couldn't reciprocate your love. He turns around, leaving you to process your emotions on your own. Your lips quiver as you relive your silly little heartbreak in front of rolling cameras and ambient lighting. The fake snow drifted down from above, decorating your sorrow with a dash of pretense. Director Hu scouts cut, but the tears refuse to stop.
At least your character got to tell him, even if she got rejected. You all read the script. The male lead eventually reciprocates her love and the two become a couple. If only reality could be that sweet.
The director gave the call to wrap up filming for the day. A collective breath of relief expelled from everyone present. Nobody enjoyed filming in the freezing cold. The film staff had already begun putting away their gear and taking down the equipment.
You pat your tears dry and thank your assistant for the tissue. Your eyes were still puffy from crying. This would be the closest you'd ever get to being more than professional acquaintences. Perhaps he still considered you a friend, but after your deliberate avoidance, the two of you had drifted apart.
"Your control of your emotions have gotten a lot better. I can see a lot of improvement since the last time I've collaborated with you, especially with the last scene." Zhongli approaches you just as you're about to head back.
You gestured for your assistant to wait for you in your van.
"You're as good as always. I learned a lot from you, in case you've forgotten." You reminded him while trying to keep your thoughts strictly professional.
"I suppose I can consider you half a student then." He chuckled. "You've come a long way, dear. It's truly a delight to witness the result of your growth and the experience you've accumulated over the past few years."
You gave him a polite smile. For a method actor, you constantly draw emotions from your own experiences. If he knew your spectacular acting just now was thanks to the heartache he had gifted you years ago, what would he think?
On your ride back to the hotel, you couldn't help but scroll through your feed. It was mostly industry acquaintences and a few close friends who managed to stick around despite your unpredictable lifestyle and constant unavailability. That's why most actors date casually and usually with familiar faces. It's just easier to forgive if you share the same woes. Zhongli's marriage was an outlier since he had married someone unaquainted with the film industry and never really had any gossip surrounding his love life. If anything, that only further solidified his reputation as actor who relied solely on his work to remain relevant. You too hoped to become that kind of actress.
Your thumb stopped at a photo of a sunset posted by Zhongli. You had followed his account all the way back when you were in college. The backdrop of the sunset was the city you were currently filming in. The photo was dated two days ago. You read the caption in your mind with his voice, a faint smile on your lips. He had always been a bit of a rambler, evident by the paragraph-long musings he narrates his snapshots with. You scrolled downward, expecting to see his wife in the comments like the last time you had clicked open one of his posts. Perhaps she had not seen it yet.
With a self-deprecating smile on your lips, you closed the app and dropped your phone into your purse. Out of sight, out of mind. You should definitely not be thinking about him as often as you were. He was a taken man, and not the kind that would breach the sacred contract of marriage. There could never be anything between the two of you. All this melancholy, it was just residual emotions from tearing open old scars. In order to play this character well, you had to indulge these dormant feelings, let them sprout and take root again. They were just as much part of the costume as the clothes you wore on set. After the cameras stop rolling, you should take them off and put them away.
These characters you played, they belonged to a world separated from reality by a screen. You weren't you and he wasn't him. In the script, you were the one his heart belonged to. He had to remove his wedding band before every scene, but once filming was over, you'd see him slip it back on.
"Has she ever visited you on set before?" You asked him during a break while sipping on the tea he had handed you. You needed some caffeine in your system after staying up all night stressing over the upcoming scene.
He smiled back, a fond memory surfacing in his mind. "Many times. In the early days of our dating, staying away from each other for long periods of time was quite the challenge."
"Your wife must trust you very much." You thought aloud.
He sighed. "She has had her doubts about me before. It's expected of someone in our occupation."
"You're not the kind of person that would cheat." You blurted out before you could process what was on your tongue.
He let out a hearty laughter. "I'm glad you think so highly of my moral character. Though I feel inclined to warn you, at the end of the day, we are all only human. Assuming the best of someone based on limited observations would only result in disappointment."
"Are you saying I don't know you well enough? Am I wrong and you actually do sleep around behind your wife's back?"
"That is not what I said." He chuckled at your deliberate misinterpretation. "I would appreciate it if you do not slander me."
"You trust her enough to leave her by herself for months in a year, but what if she gets lonely or something happens and she needs you? You can't be by her side at the drop of a hat."
"That is indeed the reality of our marriage." He seemed a bit dampened by the reminder. "What about you? Do you find the time to pursue romantic endeavors in between filming?"
"I don't have the capacity to entertain an audience at the same time as a lover."
He gave an understanding smile. "That is a wise choice. Perhaps I should've…" He chuckled, shaking his head. "Are you nervous about the coming scene?"
His eyes were on your hand, which had been fidgeting for almost the entirety of the time he had observed you.
You sucked in a deep breath. "You don't feel strange about kissing me?"
"Should I be unsettled?" He questioned you back. "It's not me, but the character I play, that will be kissing the character you play. Unless it's the technicalities you are concerned with…"
"It's my first time filming a scene like this." You confessed.
Your previous roles were all side characters without a hint of romance in their scripts. This was your first lead role, complete with a love interest and plenty of intimate scenes. The upcoming one was simply the first and you had already lost sleep over it.
"I see. That explains the pressure you're under." He nodded. "Have you kissed before?"
A flush rose in your cheeks. "Back in film school, if that counts."
"It certainly does." He reassured you. "What do you remember of it?"
You shook your head. "It didn't leave much of an impression, to be honest."
"So you may be a bit out of practice." He noted. "Our break is almost over, so there is no time to get acquainted beforehand, but I would not worry too much. Director Hu would have us reshoot ten times if she is not satisfied with the first nine takes. Sometimes I suspect she does it for fun, as it's not the first time I've worked with her…"
You giggled as the two of you returned to the set side by side. His words seemed to calm your nerves. It was like you had returned to the past, to those simpler times when you were fresh out of acting school and he was just your senior, holding your hand and showing you the way. As much as it hurt to admit it, you missed the way things used to be, before he got married, when it felt less guilty to admire him with a pair of slightly rose-tinted glasses.
Once again, the cameras rolled and the clapboard sounded, marking the beginning of the scene. You glanced at Zhongli's hand. His wedding band had once again disappeared.
"I told you not to wait for me." He sighed, cupping your face in his gloved hands.
"If I don't, how would you know I'm willing to?" You recited your line.
You hated dialogue like this, especially since it was Zhongli you were saying it to. The words constricted your throat as they struggled to make their way out.
"I'm not the right person for you." He whispered as the camera panned closer, capturing every minute expression on his face.
"That's not up to you." You retort. "It's not even up to me."
"I don't want to waste your time." He stroked your cheek with his thumb.
"You already wasted enough of my time, but I'm not in a rush…" You sucked in a quick breath as Zhongli leaned in.
He studied your face intently underneath the street lamp. His own eyes shimmered like molten amber, captivating you effortlessly. The set faded away, followed by the whirring and humming of all the filming equipment. All you could see was Zhongli as he inched closer. With each nerve-wracking second that passed, the distance between your lips diminished.
His lips descended on yours, unhurried and gentle. Your eyelids fell as Zhongli encircled you in his arms, carefully cradling the back of your head with a hand. He even kissed like a gentleman, with tentative careesses and soft sweeps against your lips. Was he just a good kisser or were you too invested to begin with? You sighed as a dull ache spread through your chest.
As Zhongli suspected she would, Hutao had the two of you do an exhausting number of retakes. You thought the first take was fine, but she insisted that something was missing. By the time she was happy, you were breathless, way too stimulated, and slightly intoxicated. His eyes fell on your swollen lips and the telling flush on your cheeks.
"That must've been quite an overwhelming first for you. I appologize on behalf of our director." He said as the two of you walked off the set. "She tends to forget us actors are only pretending to be hopelessly in love with each other."
His words pierced into you unexpectedly, causing your steps to falter. Pretending? Perhaps he was. You might've been in costume and reciting lines from a script for the rest of the scene, but the moment his lips touched yours, you forgot where you were and who you were supposed to be portraying. His character was kissing yours, but you? You were kissing Zhongli through all those retakes.
"Are you alright?" The concern on his voice was palpable.
"I'm fine. I was just a bit unprepared." You said as you grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and unscrewed the lid.
"We will not be filming the next kiss until next week, so there is plenty of time to practice if you wish to do so." He offered.
"P-Practice?" You nearly choked on your water.
"Why yes, if you find it difficult to relax in front of the camera when we are recording such a scene, it's my responsibility to ensure you are comfortable enough. Some actors struggle with the act itself while others find the presence of cameras and other people intrusive. There is quite a difference between kissing for the camera and kissing someone candidly, just like combat on screen is tediously choreographed while true fighting is often chaotic and unpredictable."
"Was that why she asked for so many takes? Because it didn't capture well on camera?"
He chuckled. "Perhaps. It's her call. As actors, we can only give our best performance. Even with all our experience and techniques put to practice, if the result doesn't align with the director's vision, we must reshoot until it does."
"Well, it's obviously my fault this time since I went in blind. The next time I hope to cut down the retake count by at least half. Two hours for a five minute scene is too much work for everyone involved, not just you and me." You declared.
The rest of the filming that day went by without much hiccups. You were starving by the time it wrapped up. Zhongli's assistants had gone off to buy takeout for the crew, leaving him alone at the back of the set. You were about to approach him to get his insight on something when you noticed the expression on his face as he stared quietly at his cellphone.
"Zhongli?" You called his name, making your presence known since he was so absorbed in whatever it was he was looking at.
He cleared his throat and put away the device, giving you his undivided attention. "Did you need my input on something pertaining to the scenes we will be filming tomorrow?"
You nodded, holding out your script. "This line here and that one too. I should be angry that you're withholding something, but I can't let you onto the fact that I know what you're not telling me. I have to convey that to the audience though, so it can't be too internalized or I would just look like a rock sitting there, but I can't be obvious enough to come off as sulking to you. How would I pull this off without looking too deliberate?"
Zhongli took your script from your hand while you took a seat beside him, waiting for him to finish reading.
"Think about someone close to you, if not a lover, than perhaps your closest friend. If they had lied to you and intend to keep the truth wrapped up until it tears or gets burned from the inside out, would you play along with their ruse or would you confront them immediately and risk losing everything you have built up together?"
You took a deep breath, absorbing his words.
"I think I'd play along, but the disappointment and hurt would be impossible to completely mask."
"Now what about the character you're portraying. Do you think they would do the same?" He asked.
"I think so. No, they would. She loves your character too much and waited all those years for him even though he never asked her to."
"Every person has specific aspects of their physical state that they have better control over. That means there will also be things they have less control over. You for example, I notice that your hands tend to be more restless when you're under pressure. You know this character better than I do. Where do you think her mask is thickest and where is it the thinnest?"
Your eyes brightened as you caught the thread of inspiration he tossed your way. "I know how to handle it now. You're the best."
Zhongli tensed in surprise when you threw your arms around him. You used to thank him with an enthusiastic hug back then too whenever he gave you valuable tips, but it had been so many years since he had seen you in person. You were a bit more mature, a polished gem now as opposed to the rough ore you were years ago. This might be your first lead role, but he had always seen the potential in you. That was why he brought you up with Hutao and suggested her invite you for the audition. As he expected, you bagged the role without much competition.
"Is there something wrong?" You asked him when he didn't hug you back. With a bit of self-consciousness, you pulled away..
He chuckled. "I was just thinking about the first time we met. You've come a long way and I can see that you've not slacked in honing your craft over the past years. Every journey will have its final day. Don't rush the process. You may yet see a day where you wonder if you had chosen the right path, but when you look back at the footsteps you've left behind and remember all the moments that brought you to where you are today, you will see that it was all inevitable. No two paths are alike, even if we walk in the same direction. I can only guide you for a short while."
"What's with the sudden introspection?" You tilted your head in curiosity. "Why does it sound like you're saying goodbye? Filming's not even done yet."
"This may be my last one."
You shot up from your seat, eyes wide with disbelief. "For now, or for good?"
"I've been in this industry for over two decades. It's been a long and rewarding career. I have no regrets, especially in meeting young talents such as yourself."
"Was that why you recommended me for the role? As a parting gift?"
"I recommended you because I found you suitable for the role."
"Then what about that sunset picture?" You demanded. "Were you trying to give us hints that you were hanging up your costume?"
You already missed the opportunity to be anything more than friends. It was just a silly crush anyways, nothing more. You survived. After a grueling early career, you finally caught up to him. All those cups of coffee, sleepless nights full of memorizing lines, and fighting for mediocre roles in as many productions as you could fit in your schedule, it was all paying off. It had been a long uphill journey, but you finally made it. You could finally stand beside him on the red carpet and he tells you he's going to quit?
"You can't." You said as you sat down again. "There are plenty of actors that work until they can't move or memorize their lines. You're not even that old. What will you do if you give this up?"
"I will simply focus my efforts on the talents signed under my agency like Xiao and Ganyu." Zhongli chuckled at your reasoning. "I can also fully step into my responsibilities as a spokesperson for the Liyue cultural exchange."
"You've always been into traditional things."
He already did endorsements for Chenyu Vale Tea and the Xigu Museum. Still, it was hard to imagine him abandoning acting since you had always looked up to him for it.
"Are you sure you won't regret it?" You had to ask him again, as if you simply repeating the question would give him a reason to reconsider.
"For every decision you make, there will be a cost in opportunity. Although acting has been a worthwhile journey, it does not mean I have not amassed regrets in the pursuit of it."
"So this wasn't an impulsive decision." You concluded from what Zhongli had just said. With some deliberation, you managed to reign in your emotions. A flush painted your cheeks. Your reaction to the news was perhaps a bit overreaching. If he wanted to retire early, who were you to say no? "I'm not going to pry since this is your life. I just want you to know that I… I've always admired your work."
Filming resumed as scheduled for the next few days. You couldn't help but sense that something was off with Zhongli. He delivered his scenes as usual, but once he was done, you'd catch him staring off in the distance, mind somewhere else.
You approached him after your last scene for the day was over. As expected, he didn't even notice you until you were right in front of him. Whatever was holding his mind captive immediately dispersed as he smiled at you.
"I was wondering if you could practice the next scene with me. If you don't have anything else occupying your time, of course. I wouldn't want to infringe… You seem rather distracted as of late." You said tentatively.
The next kiss was slotted for tomorrow morning. Besides offering to help you with it, he never brought it up again. You knew better than to let your inner demons interfere with professional matters. This was a hill you had to get over no matter what, so you might as well get it over with.
He hummed, a soft sigh expelling from his chest. "Is it so obvious?"
You nodded, resting your back against the railing beside him. "What's troubling you? Does it have something to do with your early retirement?"
Your gaze dropped down to his hands. He was absentmindedly turning the wedding band around his finger. You always noticed it, because he'd remove it before every scene and slide it back on when it was over. Perhaps this was a ritual of sorts to him, something he did to remind himself that he was somebody's husband. That ring wrapped around his finger symbolized a contract he agreed to, a promise he made to his wife.
"It does, but trifling personal matters would have to wait until filming completes to attend to."
"I'm here if you need an ear…" You offered even though you knew he wasn't the kind of man to open up so easily.
"There's no need to burden you with my personal grievances." He declined politely.
"So is the offer to help me practice the next intimate scene still up?" You said, eyes glued to Zhongli's face.
"It certainly still is. I have no reason to withhold practice if you need it." He chuckled at your hesitancy. "Where shall we go? I'm presuming you'd prefer a more private setting to ease the nerves."
Your eyes fluttered around the crowded set with countless pairs of eyes at every corner. "Anywhere but here. Is the hotel you're staying at closer or mines?"
"I believe yours is the closer one." He supplied.
"Let's get out of here then." You took his hand and all but yanked him off the railing.
Zhongli's driver dropped the two of you off at the front of your hotel before heading back to the set. The sun had long set and the streets were alight with streetlamps, signs and digital billboards. Zhongli followed you into the elevator, taking his place beside you inside the empty lift. Your hands tightened around your clutch. You were thankful to have something to hold onto, because your hands were getting restless. He was just here to help you practice, you told yourself. Nothing was going to happen beyond recited lines and inevitable liplocking, as demanded by the script. You were just practicing, for the sake of nailing the scene tomorrow. This definitely wasn't an excuse to tempt the loyal husband of another woman.
Once the door opened, the lights came on. You poured Zhongli a cup of tea when the water came to a boil. There was wine in the cooler, but you should definitely stay sober while he was in the room with you. You ordered the two of you some room service while Zhongli reaquainted himself with the script for tomorrow's scene. Once you hung up the phone, it was strictly business.
"Should I put my hand on your shoulder while I say this part?" You asked, hand already sliding up the front of his shirt as you repeated the line. Your eyes were fixed on the papers in your hand.
"Have you memorized this part of the script?" He asked you, to which you confidently nodded. "Good. Focus on your body movements and expressions instead. It would be difficult to fully immerse yourself in your character if you're holding this." He reached out and took the stack of papers from your hand, setting it down on the bed beside you. "Look into my eyes when you say the lines."
You drew in a breath and delivered the line once more, hand resting on his shoulder. "It hurt, you know? Imagining you with someone else… do you know how many times I kept asking myself, why couldn't it have been me?"
Your heart clenched in helplessness. How ironic of you, reciting false lines offscreen and confessing what you truly felt through scripted words. If it weren't for this production, you wouldn't even get the chance to be a fool.
"It's always been you, silly. There was never anyone else." He tucked strand of your hair behind your ear. "I was just hoping you'd move on while I was on mission. All I could think of were my dogtags in your hands. I couldn't put you through that."
His words, as lovely as they were, only applied to his character, not him. You knew this all too well, but the excruciating truth did not stop your silly heart from skipping a beat.
"You better be thinking of me every moment you're out there. I want to be on your mind when you eat, when you take showers, when you go to bed…"
You wrapped your arms around Zhongli's neck, taking your time before pressing your lips against his. His breath was steady, warming your skin for a brief few seconds before you closed the last bit of distance that separated you from him. Your lips melted into his, soft and eager.
You wondered what was actually on his mind while his lips were against yours. Does his wife surface in his mind, or is it actually you? You couldn't compare to him when it came to experience on-screen. He's probably filmed more kiss scenes with countless actresses than you had scenes of eating.
Your lips moved against his desperately, unable to suppress the impulse to indulge. His hands held the back of your head, fingers buried in your hair. If you didn't know better, you'd think Zhongli was getting a bit carried away by you.
"Wait." He suddenly pulled away from the kiss.
Your eyes followed his hand as he hurriedly removed his ring, dropping it into his pocket. His breathing was slightly unsteady and his heart was beating erratically.
Zhongli peered down at you, pupils blown as he took in your disheveled hair and flustered state. His own chest heaved as he caught his breath. He tore his gaze from you, reaching for the cup on the table.
You stood there as he gulped down the rest of the tea, afraid to make a single inappropriate movement. His silence was louder than the obnoxious beating of your heart. Could he tell? Surely an actor as perceptive and experienced as him could tell the difference. You chewed nervously on your bottom lip, further scraping off what little lipstick was left on it.
"Why don't we reattempt that? This time, allow me to pace the kiss. Urgency and unease captures surprisingly well on camera, but those are not the sentiments you are looking to convey. You want to entice the audience with confidence and control, both of which you were lacking just now."
"I… I haven't exactly done a lot of kissing on screen or off screen. So I can't really be confident…"
He chuckled at your honesty. "No need to fret. I'm here to help you find it. Hopefully you will have it by tomorrow morning or else I will have to stay the—" He caught himself before the thought could finish. "Pardon me, I didn't not mean it in that way."
It was your turn to laugh. "I know you didn't."
"Shall we?" He prompted.
You gave Zhongli a firm nod and repeated the lines leading up to the kiss, letting your hand trail up and over his shoulder again. Your lips met his again, but this time, you allowed him to take the lead, guiding the kiss at a more suitable pace. It was refreshing, and so much more enjoyable now that he was taking the initiative and you were only responding to his gentle ministrations. His kiss was patient, warm, and steady. Once again, you couldn't help but lose yourself. It was impossible to resist, with his hands in your hair, his body pressed against yours, and your lack of oxygen getting to your head. The tip of your tongue was met with resistance as you attempted to deepen the kiss.
Zhongli pulled away again, amber gaze sweeping over your flushed face and puffy lips again. His eyes narrowed and suspicion swirled in their depths as he observed your flustered state. It was a good thing the two of you were in the privacy of your own hotel room. It would've been a humiliating moment for you had you shown this lack of control in front of an entire crew.
You were not his protégé in the way Xiao and Ganyu were, but he had always been aware of how much admiration you held for him. He found you endearing, so it was natural for him to assume a mentoring role whenever he happened to be in your presence. When you stopped joining productions he had been casted in, he initially thought it was just due to incompatibility in your respective schedules. Months turned into years. You remained polite, but distanced, even on social media. He eventually realized that all those productions you joined in the past were in fact, not coincidental at all. You joined them in order to get close to him, to spend time with him, and to learn as much from him as you could. Your self-removal from his life had all but faded into an unresolved mystery.
Zhongli was on a year-long honeymoon haitus when you began distancing yourself from him, so of course he wouldn't have the mental capacity to dissect your strange behavior. After years of assuming you simply drifted away because you deemed he no longer had anything worthwhile to teach you, he's suddenly hit with an entirely different reason, one that he never even considered until your lips were pressed against his, your body practically melting into his arms. The way you were clinging to him, your wispy breaths feathering over his chin, and the way you stared up at him like some exhausted stray, none of this was pretending. He had been doing this for nearly two decades. With one glance, he could tell if you were acting.
He shouldn't have dragged you into this production, back into his life. What he thought was giving you a gentle push in your career turned out to be pushing you over the edge of a cliff. You were now swept up in a dangerous freefall and it was completely his fault. He could not dive after you nor could he just watch.
"Sorry, I don't know what came over me." You quickly apologized, trying to salvage the awkward practice session. "Was that alright?"
You picked up the script again, pretending to refresh your memory. Zhongli also cleared his throat.
"Yes, let us continue from here." He pointed at the next line.
"Don't make me wait too long." You brushed off some imaginary snow from his shoulder. "One day, I might just give up and decide I've had enough of you."
He reached up, catching your hand and pulling you close. His other hand slid over your waist, holding you still.
He sighed, eyes brimming with guilt. "If that happens, I'd be happy for you. You could do far better than—"
He was interrupted with another kiss. Every time you pulled away, it felt like you had left a small piece of yourself on him.
"I can do better than you?" You finished his words for him.
Zhongli drew in a deep breath, feeling an indescribable weight on his chest as you waited for him to deliver his lines. The look in your eyes, the carefully concealed anticipation you were trying to hide, it was all clear to him now.
"I can, but I don't intend to let you off the hook so easily." You said, looking directly into Zhongli’s eyes.
A gentle tug on his neck caused his gaze to drop to his tie, which you held firmly in your grasp.
"Improvising, I see." Zhongli remarked at your little addition to the script. "You should note this down and discuss it with the director tomorrow morning before filming. I'm sure she'd appreciate it."
You snapped out of character for a moment, blushing at his praise. "You think so?"
He nodded, smiling reassuringly. You immediately jotted down the idea.
Room service arrived just as you were about to resume practice. You didn't even realize how hungry you were until the food was set in front of you. After the two of you ate, you practiced for a couple more hours with him. You thanked him and sent him on his way once you were confident enough about the scenes you were filming tomorrow. It was extremely late and if you didn't wrap things up, he might as well stay the night. Of course, you only dared to entertain that diobolical thought for a split second before exorcising it from your mind. That would be much too scandalous.
When Zhongli returned to his hotel, his mind was all over the place. The events that had been plaguing him for the past month now had to contend with his shifting perception of you for the remainder of the filming. Your genuine feelings for him complicated things, yet he would have to carry on with seeing you everyday for the next two weeks and act like he was none the wiser. There was still one last kiss scene, or more precisely a bed scene with how far it gets. His throat suddenly felt dry at the mere thought. How could he possibly kiss and touch you like that, knowing that it would all be real for you?
He pulled out the wedding band that had been sitting quietly in his pocket, slipping it back on his finger. It glinted in the stale light. Memories fluttered through his mind of the moment he had first put it on. He had promised someone the world, but failed to deliver it. The smile on her face was so radiant then as opposed to the faint ghost of it that remained on her lips now. He was an accomplished actor, but his marriage was a far cry from what the internet had made it out to be and the world would soon find out if he is unable to salvage what was left of it. His heart had been ridden with a perpetual ache, dull as their love had faded into. Too many times he had disappointed her, left her alone to face the world when she needed him beside her. He couldn't even blame her for the rift that separated them now. The responsibility fell solely on him, because he had not held up his part of the vows and now everything was too late. When he received the papers, his heart sunk to the point where, for the first time in his career, he found it impossible to focus.
That was when you found him. He had to partially lie to you, hopelessly convincing himself at the same time that perhaps there was still time. He could still make amends and sacrifices. After this was over, he would retire and make true his words at the altar.
It was all he could think of for the past few weeks, clouding his mind whenever the cameras stopped rolling. The only times he could catch a break was when he donned the persona of someone who did not exist. This person lived a life separate from his own and did not have the regrets he did. It allowed him to temporarily shed his own skin and put on a thinner one.
There was also another source of distraction he could not escape, you. Ever since that first kiss behind the camera, he had suspected there was something amiss. Now, that he was certain of what it was, he knew why you were so tense whenever he was near and the reason you had kept your distance. He was blind for not noticing it all those years ago, mistaking it for simple admiration. He had already hurt you once without even knowing and it was inevitable that he would hurt you again.
Filming resumed the next morning. Thanks to all of the practice last night, you completed the scenes smoothly and efficiently. The kiss scene was wrapped up in just two retakes, much to the director's delight. You sent Zhongli a grateful smile, which he reciprocated. Needless to say, the less you two had to kiss, the better it was for your sanity. Nobody was willing to tear that thin paper barrier. You had a professional reputation to uphold and he has to put his ring back on.
"So do you go back to your wife after all this and become a full-time house husband?" You teased him, unknowingly tearing open an invisible wound inside of him.
He pulled on a smile. "If she will allow me to, I'm willing to."
Your brow went up in curiosity. "I suppose I can imagine you in an apron. You'll make a handsome house husband for sure."
He chuckled, but the joy in his laughter dissipated with a sigh. "I hope so…"
"She won't want you at home all day?"
Zhongli shook his head. "I'm not sure if she…" He pauses, realizing that of he finished the sentence, he wouldn't be able to take it back. You were the last person he should be burdening his marriage troubles with.
"Well, there's only a little over a week left. You'll be free to go back to her and make up for all the dinners you missed."
He fell into another silence at your words. Could he still make up for the past five years? All those days she had to eat alone, sleep alone, wake up alone in bed, they had no doubt worn her down like the steady erosion of what was once solid stone. If not for his neglect, how would they have gotten to this point?
The two of you parted ways. You went to check out a local shopping venue with your assistant and he returned to his hotel to finally open the package that had been sitting on the table for the past few days.
He drew in an unsteady breath when he read the title of the papers. The minute he was handed the package by the concierge, he already knew what would be inside it. Was her heart bleeding still when she went to pick these up or has the bleeding stopped, the wound closed, and the pain numbed by now?
Many times, he opened up the contacts on his phone, had the impulse to call her. Would she even want to hear his voice? These papers spoke loudly. They told him that she was done waiting for him, that she no longer wanted anything to do with him.
To put it gently, she was setting him free, but the cruel truth remained. She was cutting him out of her life. By doing so, she was reclaiming herself by renouncing those vows they made so many years ago. If he signed these papers, she would cease to be his and he would no longer be hers. He would lose her, as he deserved to.
The next few days flew by. The last few scenes were finally underway, with only two days of filming left. The scene you dreaded most was in slot for tomorrow and you had already lost sleep over it. Practicing beforehand with Zhongli had helped immensely with the last intimate scene, but the next one was something you didn't even know how to bring up with him.
You had kissed before this production, but sexual intimacy was not something you had experienced before. How would you even act convincingly if you had nothing to draw from? You had spent the past two nights watching porn, not that the script required you to do anything explicit, but you had to learn as much as you could for context. What sounds should you be making? What expressions should be on your face when his lips are on your neck as opposed to your forehead? All of these details have to be thought out ahead of time.
Worse of all, if you couldn't nail the scene, Hutao would absolutely force the two of you two retake as many times as it took to achieve her vision. You didn't want to repeat the recording process of the first kiss with a scene like this. It would be absolute torture for you and very uncomfortable for Zhongli. He had a wife, but had to see through scenes like this out of professional obligation. Some actors might indulge in it, but you were fortunate Zhongli had been strictly professional with you, even if your practice sessions were held in an intimate setting like your hotel room.
"I thought you wouldn't ask." Zhongli replied, a faint smile on his lips. "For such scenes, the audience's imagination does much of the heavy lifting, but we must provide something for their minds to run off with. If the shot is out of focus, we must still be in a reasonably suggestive position. The camera will rarely show your body, because nothing is actually happening between us, but we must give the illusion that something is. The majority of the shots will focus on our faces, interspersed with a few obscured full body shots and some close ups of our hands, so touching will not be completely avoidable."
You nodded, mentally taking note of everything he said like a good student.
"I've been doing some… uh, research on my own. I can mimic the sounds and expressions, but…"
His eyes combed your face, reading the crease between your brows. There were some things that you were unable to say, but he could guess what they were just from your expression and words alone.
"You've never experienced it yourself." He said with as little intonation as possible. This was simply the conclusion he was able to reach with the clues you had given him. Had you experienced it before, you would not be this unsure of yourself.
You nodded, a flush creeping into your cheeks. It was impossible not to when discussing such a topic, much less with Zhongli of all people. It felt unbearably scandalous to even mention such a thing, yet here you were, practicing a scene like this. How in the world were you supposed to stay professional?
"What is the most delicious thing you've ever tasted? You can supplement that in your mind. Ice cream on a hot day, or perhaps a piece of chocolate that you've been craving for hours. Something along those lines will do." He supplied.
"I imagine it would be a little more intense then eating really satisfying food."
He cleared his throat, looking away from your face as if to avoid seeing your reaction to the question he's about to ask.
"Do you touch yourself on occasion?"
His eyes might not be on you, but you were sure he heard your sharp intake of breath. Touch yourself? You were not some clueless teenager and neither was he, but admitting to such a thing in front of someone you've been idealizing for so long felt wrong. You wanted to lie. If you denied it, your festered admiration for this man would never see the light.
"Do you know how to? If you go about it incorrectly, it would be hard to reach the result you seek." He continued, gaze still averted. His voice was still steady, however it had taken on a barely noticeable graininess. "I do not wish to infringe more than necessary, but if you do not feel confident enough, even an infinite amount of reshooting will make no difference."
"Could you…" You began.
"I cannot." He answered firmly, even before you could make your request. "It would be inappropriate of me to, even if you do not mind."
You nodded, blushing furiously and grateful that he had interrupted you before the foolish words could ever escape. What were you even thinking? He was a married man and from what you had seen on the internet, it was clear that he loved his wife a lot. As enticing as he was, you should've known better. Even if you were to strip naked and throw yourself at him, he wasn't the kind of person who would cheat.
"Sorry, I… Could we skip over that part for now? You said the camera would close up on our hands. We might not be doing the real deal, but the script says we'll at least be undressing a bit." You changed the subject to something a little less stimulating.
"Indeed. Those shots are often comprised of hand shots. Untying belts, unfastening buttons, touching each other in suggestive ways, that sort of thing." He elaborated.
"How far do we need to go? The script is pretty vague when it comes to the actual shots, so I guess it's up to us."
He stroked his chin, recalling a previous filming experience perhaps. "As far as we need to give the illusion some momentum. It does not take much."
"Since you're here, can we practice?" You finally mustered up the courage to ask. That was the main purpose of meeting in the privacy of your hotel room, away from prying eyes.
"Certainly." He followed you over to the bed.
You began with the several lines of buildup leading up to the intimate scene. Zhongli took a seat beside you on the bed. His posture was relaxed and his gaze soft, completely immersed in the scene and in his character's adoration of you.
"Wait." You suddenly remembered something, reaching out for his hand. "Your ring."
He snapped out of his character, surprised that you had noticed his habit of removing his wedding band. "Thank you."
"It's the least I can do." You smiled understandingly.
"Let us continue." He said after dropping the ring into his pocket.
The kiss was relatively easy for you, now that it was no longer the first time you've shared a kiss with Zhongli. He pulled away to smile at you, his gaze so unbearably tender, you wondered if he had in fact looked at someone this way before, his wife probably. What if he was imagining her everytime he kissed you? You wished you had someone to envision yourself with everytime you had to act out an intimate scene with an unfamiliar actor in the future. Would it be inappropriate if that person was him? Probably. You needed to find your own muse, preferably someone who didn't have a wife.
"Your mind is wandering, dear." He chuckled, noticing your brief lapse in focus.
"Sorry." You sighed, smiling sheepishly at him. "It just hit me how much my lack of love life affects my acting. I really should've gone on more dates before throwing myself into acting. If I had gotten myself a boyfriend or two before taking this role, it would've helped a lot in scenes like this."
"If it comforts you, I started with very little as well. It takes a considerable amount of time to accumulate life experiences, so do not let it bother you. You will often feel inadequate when scripts call for knowledge and insight you have yet to gain. Allow yourself the time to learn. No actor steps into a role completely prepared."
"I need to write that down and keep it in my wallet."
"Do whatever you need to remember." He smiled.
Practice resumed. The two of you exchanged a couple more lines before the intimate part of the scene finally unfurled. Your blouse was unbuttoned, exposing your cleavage and the lace of your bra, an alluring contrast to your skin. Your back was against the sheets, body caged beneath his looming frame. Zhongli's gaze swept down your chest, taking in the sight of you.
"Exquisite." He praises in that deep velvety voice of his.
You swallowed, heart racing against your ribcage. Even though you knew his words were scripted, you couldn't help the way they affected you. Under different circumstances, would he utter the same words? Would he still find you beautiful?
"Where would you prefer I touch you? I will restrict myself to those areas." He pauses to ask.
"Shoulders, waist, legs…" You imagined Zhongli's fingers feathering over your skin. "Anywhere except here and… there."
Your hands trailed from your chest, dipping between your legs. His gaze followed your movements, saw the way your thighs pressed together when your fingertips grazed against that sensitive place. The both of you were fully clothed from the waist down, barely touching, but it made no difference. The tension between you, the proximity, it had you drawing breaths as if something had sapped all the oxygen in the air.
Whether it was the warmth radiating off his skin or the way he gently cups your face in the palm of his hands while his lips caress yours, you couldn't differentiate what was real from what wasn't anymore. He was just a stray touch or an accidental brush away from taking advantage of you. If he wanted you, you might just let him have you, but he would never ask. He just wasn't the kind of person who would.
You bit back a gasp when you felt his hand on your thigh. His lips shifted, scattering kisses along your neck all the way to your shoulder. His other hand rested on your waist. Your mind was a mess and your senses in utter disarray. You trembled underneath him, fighting the impulse to seek even more closeness. He could only give you so much. This was all you were allowed to indulge in.
A moan escaped your parted lips, causing Zhongli to freeze. A shutter rippled through his body. He pulled away slightly.
"Are you alright?" He asked in concern.
The sounds you made, that unexpected moan, along with those tiny gasps you tried to suppress, they affected him more than his calm exterior suggested. He couldn't ignore them, no matter how hard he tried. Perhaps it was because he could easily tell when you were and when you weren't pretending.
You nodded, collecting yourself as he climbed off of you. The scene cuts to black after the couple exchanges a heated kiss in bed, so a bit of touching was all that was needed. The two of you repeated the lines a few more times and discussed the details of the bed scene in a more tactical manner as opposed to the immersive approach you attempted first. The proximity and touching still happened, but you were able to remain much more clear-headed. You were even able to relax a bit, faking a few convincing moans and giggling over it afterwards.
"Aren't you going to put it back on?" You motioned towards his right pocket, where his ring was sitting. He slipped it back on, an appreciative smile on his lips.
"Try to get some rest. You did good tonight. Tomorrow's filming should go well." He reassured you before leaving. You stood by the doorway, seeing him off as he got into his van.
You let out a relieved sigh. If it weren't for Zhongli going out of his way to help you with these difficult scenes, you wouldn't be able to catch a wink of sleep the night before filming them. The horror of that first kiss scene left you terrified of the amount of retakes Hutao was willing to put the entire crew through. Hopefully you would get good enough at them to handle whatever was waiting for you in your future scripts. Not every costar was like Zhongli, as you learned these past few years. You were insanely fortunate to have him as a mentor, but you knew better than to expect someone to hold your hand throughout your career. That was your journey to take alone and nobody could guide you all the way through it.
When Zhongli returned to his hotel room, he headed straight for the shower. His tie, suit, pants, all were tossed haphazardly on the bathroom counter. He stepped into the stall, letting the cold water cascade over his body. With every intimate scene, his regret for dragging you into this production increased.
That budding actress who used to follow him around from one production to the next, asking incessant questions and constantly lighting up his phone with text messages, she had blossomed into an exceptional actress. He had come across a recent production you were a part of, which placed you back in his peripheral. Perhaps you still doubted yourself, or perhaps you just lacked the connections, someone who could put in a good word for you. Your acting outshined that of the two leads. Why were you still stuck in supporting roles? He truly just wanted to give you a hand, but he should've given more thought on why you suddenly went radio silent all those years ago.
You were in love with him then.
You're still in love with him now.
Even the cold water couldn't flush that damning thought out of his mind. He rested his forehead against the tile wall. The way you gazed at him after he kissed you, the brief flicker of happiness that you had to mask as soon as you regained control of your emotions, he noticed, but he could do nothing about it. The way your body responds to his touch, unfamiliar but far too receptive, if he wanted to, he could've… No, he couldn't allow his mind to go there. The little gasps and sighs you let slip while his face was buried in your neck, that moan that escaped when all he did was brush his fingers along your thigh, they were now seared into his mind.
He shouldn't, he reminded himself. He still had a chance to salvage his marriage, even if it was just a sliver of one. What was he doing, thinking of you? His eyes fell on the ring on his finger. In his hurry to get in the shower, he had forgotten to take it off. Everytime he filmed, the ring was out of sight. He was the one who was married, not his character. It would not make sense for the camera to capture a wedding band on the hand of an unmarried character, so it had become a habit for him to take it off. Many married actors and actresses simply don't wear them out of practicality, but he never found it an inconvenience. It was a part of the vows he exhanged at the altar. He was never one to take contracts lightly, be it written, printed, or spoken.
Thinking of you like this was a breach. He was not helping you practice. He was not acting. He was simply a distracted man, unable to reign in his wandering mind. Your flustered expressions, the softness of your lips, and the feel of your skin against his fingers, all these phantoms of you kept finding their way back into his mind. Something inside of him had crumbled tonight. He placed his palm against the wall, his breathing growing shallow. You rendered him brittle, like a chisel hammered deep into a crack. He peered at the glinting ring on his hand through the curtain of water.
He could hear you, everytime you called his name, that accidental moan, along with those little gasps you let slip. You were a decadent treat laid out beneath him. All he had to do was reach out. He might not have done anything to you just now, but he couldn't deny the devastating affect you had on his self control, especially now that he was alone.
With a frustrated sigh, he pulled the ring off his finger and placed it on the niche in the wall. He then adjusted the cold water to a more comfortable temperature. It was not working in the slightest.
A shuttered breath expelled from his lungs as he reached down, wrapping a hand around his hardened cock. He closed his eyes, pumping himself at a steady pace. It had been a while since he had done this.
He imagined your body trapped between his own and the slippery tile wall. The waterdrops adorning your breasts would make them appear even more luscious. He wondered how soft they would be in his hands. You'd bite your lip the way you do when you're trying to suppress your moans as he kneads them. He would part your legs with a knee. One of his hands would slip between your legs to play with your weeping cunt, fingering your clit and making you tremble with pleasure. You'd already be dripping for him, whimpering his name with increasing urgency. The adorable flush on your cheeks would get deeper as he pressed his lips against yours, drinking in the sweet sounds you make.
Tonight, he learned that you lacked this sort of experience. Probably didn't even know how to properly touch yourself, much less bring yourself to orgasm. He imagined you curled up in your hotel bed, the one he had you laying underneath him on. Were you just as affected by the heated practice session as he was? Was he on your mind just as you were on his? He really shouldn't be thinking of you like this, pleasuring himself at the thought of you.
If you touched yourself to the thought of him, would you be imagining his fingers curling against your squelching walls, or would it be his thick cock buried in your tight little pussy? Would you be imagining him fucking you from the front or ramming into you from behind? He let out a groan, the tip of his cock dripping as he worked himself into a frenzy. He would savor every needy sound and blissful expression you make as you take everything he gave you, your body trembling from the force of his thrusts.
Zhongli let out a loud groan as he finally released, spilling himself all over the shower floor. The water flushed everything away. He scrubbed himself clean and stepped out of the shower, heart heavy with a sludge of emotions. His mind also whirled with conflicting thoughts. Some revolved around you and some around a woman he had vowed to love and cherish until death did them part.
During that year-long honeymoon, he had taken a hiatus from acting in order to spend time with her. They had made love in more beds than he could count, so the attraction and affection was undeniably there. He strived to satisfy her, fulfilling every fantasy she could possibly have. He simply wanted to make her happy and he succeeded, for a while. She was an insatiable woman, but in his eyes, it had always been an endearing trait of hers. If it was air she needed, he was happy to supply her with it. Months flew by, countless shows of marrital bliss decorated their social media timeline. The joy was shared by all his fans, some innocently asking when the pregnancy announcements were coming.
Perhaps that was what started the spiral of self-doubt. After an entire year of putting off his career, he finally stopped declining scripts, encouraging her to return to her career as well. In his mind, he envisioned the brief separation would bring back the person he had known before they had gotten romantically involved. She was once a dazzling gem, but somehow when she fell into his hands, her light went out. Guilt rose from the shadows of their stagnant marriage, choking him until he could no longer breathe in her presence. He began taking more work, leaving her alone at home for longer and longer stretches of time.
Everytime he returned home from filming, her crestfallen face would tell him nothing had changed. He had long lost the power to bring her happiness, but he refused to abandon her. Everytime he slipped that ring back onto his finger, he renewed his vows. His patience had always been an asset, but this time, perhaps it was a liability, a gilded deadweight that he had chained the both of them to.
He had been hoping for so long for a miracle, yet what he received were papers demanding his signature. She always wanted what she wanted. Perhaps he had never truly understood her well enough. If they had dated for longer than they had, he would've realized they were incompatible. A fading memory, a marriage covered in years of dust, was it really worth salvaging? Would she even be happy if he gave into her demands now, or would she mock him for trying too late?
She was giving him an open door. Perhaps it was finally time to leave. He placed the ring on the stack of papers and dimmed the lights. All these years, perhaps it was this ring he should have taken off. The most difficult roles to take on were often ones unsuitable for the actor to play, but unlike film, life didn't come with a script.
---
Author's Note: I know this probably feels unfinished since Zhongli and reader didn't get together. It's a bit different from my other entries since it's less about the smut or relationship between Zhongli and reader, but more so focused on Zhongli himself. This fic was an opportunity for me to explore into darker themes.
Author's Note 2: I was trying to edit something and accidentally deleted the old post! This is a repost.
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Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Fairytale AU / Zhongli is stuck in an enchanted mirror / angst and touch starvation / reader gets into a contractual marriage with someone else / curses, wishes, and blessings / witches, royalty, and dragons / length 17K words
"Perfection!" Your maid gushed at her own handiwork after she had put the last pin in your hair. "Your Grace, you'll be the focus of all the princes' attentions tonight. They won't be able to look away!"
You smiled at your own reflection. Sometimes, you couldn't help but suspect there was something odd about this ornate antique mirror handed down to you by your late mother. It used to be an heirloom of the previous royal family. Rumors claim it to be enchanted, which you disregarded as paranoia when you first heard them. Even as a child, you were highly skeptical. You didn't need a talking mirror to tell you that you were beautiful like a certain queen in those fables old maids used to tell when you were a child.
You had loving parents who doted on you and as a result, you had grown up into a rather spoiled princess. Your beauty became ever more radiant as the years passed, a vibrant bloom that had been flourishing in the heavily guarded royal gardens, away from prying eyes and plucking hands. Portraits of you had somehow gotten into the hands of the common folk and made its way into the royal courts of neighboring kingdoms.
It wasn't a surprise when you came of age that your royal suitors would be fighting over your hand when the king threw you a royal ball on your birthday. The last time the castle hosted such a grand event, your mother was still alive and a good handful of the royal attendees were not yet grown men. They had changed a great deal and so had you, so this ball allowed them to see you as a stranger, like a butterfly freshly emerged from a cocoon. The night started with much anticipation, but over the course of several dances and conversations with your suitors, it had steadily withered away. Finally the music stopped and the guests retired for the night. In the morning, they would be returning to their respective kingdoms.
"Why do they only care if a princess is beautiful? Are my genes all they really want?" You asked one of your maids as she helps you untie the ribbon cinching your waist at the back of your elaborate gown. Your eyes drift over your shoulders to look into the gilded mirror as she removed the dress. "It's like they can't be bothered to see past my skin."
"Your Grace, forgive me if my words are harsh on the ears. A marriage between royal families is often in name only. Many kings and lords marry for the kingdom's interests and keep mistresses and concubines for their beds. If your future royal husband finds you desirable, then you may yet find love and fulfillment in bed as well."
Your maids have always been permitted to speak their minds in front of you, especially in the privacy of your own quarters. You valued their honesty and insight since despite their social standing, they could hear more and experience more than you ever could.
"But what if I'm the one who doesn't find them desirable enough to bed? Do I just close my eyes and roll over? They put me off with their shallow gaze and haughtiness alone."
The older maid suppressed a laugh and composed herself before answering your raunchy question. "My dear princess, even the most handsome suitor will have trouble wooing you if you do not adjust your expectations."
"I don't just want a handsome husband." You reply as another maid tugs the jeweled pins out of your hair, letting your hair spill over your bare shoulders. "He better not just want a pretty wife either."
"I'm sure you will find the one who suits you most, Your Grace." The older woman smiles fondly at your reflection in the mirror. She had watched you grow up from a naive girl into an opinionated young woman and would want nothing more than for the smile on your lips and the light in your eyes to stay with you for all the years to come.
Since no one managed to steal your heart that day, your hand was not promised to any of the princes or lords who came to attend the ball. Your father loved you too much to possibly force you to marry a man you did not wish to spend the rest of your life with. Months turned into years. Your restless suitors did not let up, paying visits to the castle during diplomatic errands as an excuse to catch a glimpse of you.
One of them in particular had been getting more domineering as of late, going as far as bringing up their kingdom's military prowess to pressure your father into arranging to have you meet with them in person. Your father's kingdom was small, but it was not helpless. Using the surrounding mountains to its advantage, it had stood its ground for hundreds of years. Still, if a neighboring kingdom were to launch an attack, the common folk would suffer and as their princess, you refused to hide behind your castle walls while a meaningless war is started in your name.
"I'll go." You gave the messenger your decision to deliver to your father. "Tell our guest to meet me at the gardens at sunset."
You doubted a rendezvous with you was worth upsetting relations unless they had more ambitious plans in wait. The young princes of the neighboring kingdoms might see you as a princess to wed, but the rulers only saw you as an easy pawn to take hold of. You were your father's only heir. Once your father passes away, his crown would become your inheritance. Such an inevitable shift in power left an uneasy feeling in your stomach.
The meeting took place as agreed. This particular suitor had already been crossed off your list of husband candidates, but you couldn't say that to his face. Like the lady you had been raised as, you gracefully played your part as host, taking him through the gardens and engaging in shallow conversation with him. Time was predictably wasted, but at least your guest was satisfied and left willingly. In his recounting, he'd probably spin it in a way that portrayed you as the hopelessly smitten princess locked up in a tower and your father, the cruel, overprotective king.
You paced inside your bed chamber that night after the insufferable guest finally departed from the castle. It seemed your peace had come to an end on the day you came of age. An unwed princess was unheard of in the land, so you'd have to eventually marry, but you couldn’t just pick one and get it over with. Stalling could only get you so far without angering the neighboring kingdoms.
Word had come to you from your maids. These suitors of yours had been hosting jousting competitions amongst themselves, reducing you to a mere trophy. It was like who you were going to end up marrying no longer required your own participation to decide. They were eliminating contenders on their own, expecting you to just accept the final result of their foolish contests like some sort of sentence. Just the thought made you fume.
Your mother might no longer be with you, but your blissful childhood taught you how important it was to take charge of your own destiny and choose the right person to ensure your own happiness. Your mother lived a short life, but her radiant smiles had been branded into your memory, reminding you everyday not to take such decisions lightly.
Your maids left once you had changed into your nightgown. The ornate mirror stood tall in the corner of your room, like a silent portal to another world. Your gaze fell on your own reflection, tinted in a slightly golden glow that was undeniably flattering. Perhaps that was why you could never bear to throw this old mirror away, just like all its previous owners. There was just something enchanting about it, but you couldn’t put a finger on what. At first glance, it was simply a functional piece of decor. Upon closer inspection, you'd always notice a faint rippling of the metallic surface. At first, you swore you had imagined it, but when you observed the strange phenomenon a second time and then a third time, you began to believe the old rumors. Your hand reached out to touch the gilded frame, fingers sweeping along its recesses. You could almost feel the mirror hum in response, like the stir of something trapped deep within the object.
"If only you really are a magic mirror." You sighed. "Then you'd be able to tell me how to get out of this mess."
Being an avid chessplayer, you often interpreted problems like a game of chess. As long as you moved strategically, you could change the entire state of the board to your advantage. Your situation was something your father feared would become a reality the moment news of your brother's death reached the castle years ago. Your mother's health had been deteriorating and the news only caused it to worsen until she too departed. Two funerals in consecutive cloaked the whole kingdom in gloom for years and had only just begun to lift with the prospect of your marriage.
"Even if my father's army is willing to go to war to defend my honor, am I going to hide behind them just like I hide behind these walls?" You thought aloud. "My father can't shield me forever. As a princess, is my destiny just to marry a prince and give this kingdom over to them as my dowry?"
You slid down against the mirror, your back resting against its metallic surface. The suitor you had just sent off was the only one who had been frequenting the castle as of late. You suspected that the princes of the neighboring kingdoms had reached some sort of an agreement. Either he had emerged victorious in their jousting competitions or they were taking turns in pursuing you. The only silver lining was that you didn't not have to deal with all of them all at once. It wasn't like he was truly interested in you as a person. From the conversations you had with him in the garden, he was just concerned with how desirable you were in the context of your identity as the princess and sole heir of the king and perhaps your beauty was a nice incentive. Your eyes and ears caught wind of questionable rumors involving the high-born daughters of prominent families in his own kingdom long before you agreed to meet with him. If you were to marry such a person, would those rumors just stop? You weren't gullible enough to believe a man would simply change his ways after he secures himself a royal wife.
You could always just pick the son of a prominent family in your own kingdom, but that would collectively enrage the kingdoms whose princes had been vying for your hand ever since your birthday ball years ago. Your only valid option seemed to be one of your royal suitors, but you would much rather rule the kingdom alone and wait for the right person to appear, wherever they were.
"My princess, your destiny is what you make of it." A deep voice whispered against your ear.
A shiver ran up your spine as you sprung to your feet and away from the mirror. Your eyes swept over the tall object apprehensively. Just now, you could swear you felt warm breath curl against the skin on the back of your neck. That voice too, was it just imagined?
You stood there, staring at the mirror for a long while, waiting for it to do something out of the ordinary. It sat there, harmless as it always had. Your mind immediately pulled up all those old stories about this mysterious mirror, of how there was a powerful being trapped within it that answered to whoever possessed it, of how one particularly vain owner used to repeatedly ask it dumb questions when it was clear the being in the mirror posessed knowledge far surpassing that of any king or commoner.
"You can talk?" You asked softly.
Your reflection stared back at you but didn't answer. No ripples, nothing. Perhaps you really had imagined that voice just now. You had a lot on your mind lately and it must be taking its toll on you. Perhaps tomorrow you'd be in a better state of mind after a good night's rest.
That strange voice you heard faded from your mind as the seasons changed. Even though you disregarded it as a figment of your imagination, its message aligned with what you had been silently screaming ever since it became apparent that the neighboring kingdoms were plotting something. Marriage was just one means of getting what they were truly after. Ever since your brother died, your father's kingdom had become a piece of fat meat in the eyes of hungry wolves, just waiting to be shredded up.
"You'll make a fine queen. Your mother and I raised the both of you so that you would make competent rulers. She would've been so proud if she could see you today. Whether you become the queen of another kingdom or you decide to stay and rule over this one, I have no doubts in you, my daughter." Your father reassured you after you dismissed the members of the king's council.
Your heart fell when he raised his hand to cough into his hankerchief. His health had been deteriorating as of late and your intuition told you there was something off about this sickness of his. You suspected that perhaps one of the chefs or maids had been bought out by a neighboring kingdom to poison him in undetectable increments. The secret investigation was still being conducted. So far, no suspects had been weeded out. Your father had protected you for so many years and now you just hoped it wasn't too late to do the same for him.
"If you're really magic, tell me who's trying to hurt my father." You murmured in exasperation as soon as your maid left the room. She had once again brought you bad news.
Your fingers clutched the edge of the mirror's frame tightly. A helpless tear fell from your eyes as you rested your throbbing forehead against the mirror. The droplet slid down the smooth surface, landing on the bottom of the frame.
"Please…I'm running out of time…"
A deep sigh rumbled against your ear.
"My princess, this is the person you are looking for."
Your eyes widened in shock as the mirror's surface began to ripple. Your reflection got lost in the movements. When the surface stilled, you were standing in front of a face you did not recognize. Staring back at you was a man, a gardener, judging by his clothing. Of course your investigations turned up empty-handed. Who would suspect someone who does not interact with the king directly?
Even after the shock of the revelation had passed, your eyes were still wide in disbelief.
"Mirror! You really can talk!"
The surface of the mirror rippled again, this time revealing a man, quite a handsome one at that. He was tall, dark-haired, and wore an elaborate suit. His features were softened by the hazy glow of the mirror, making him appear even more unreal. The most striking aspect about him were his eyes. They were an intense amber, like molten gemstones. His gaze pierced through the surface of the mirror and seemed to see right through you as well. You drew in a deep breath.
"Do you have a name?" You asked.
"I have been called many things, mirror being the most common. If you insist on addressing me by name, I've gone by the name Morax as well as Zhongli. If you prefer a title, you may call me Rex Lapis or Deus Auri."
"Morax… that's a demon's name. Are you a demon?" You asked cautiously. Whoever this man in the mirror was, there's no way he's human.
The man chuckled, the sound reverberating through the metal surface. "I suppose you can consider me that. However, you need not fear me. I will not harm you."
"Sounds like something a demon would say before he eats my soul."
"I assure you, if I were to take anything from you, it would be of your own willingness. I do not partake in deceit. If you wish to enter a contract with me, I can ensure that it will be a fair and honest exchange."
"A contract?"
"Yes, my princess. I can answer any questions you may have among other favors, however for those other tasks—"
"There will be costs."
"Precisely, so you need not rush into any agreements with me."
You nodded, letting his words sink in.
"I'll call you Zhongli then. Thank you for the tip on the gardener. I owe you one." You remembered.
The man in the mirror let out another soft chuckle. "I am quite relieved that you don't find me unsettling. It has been quite a challenge remaining unseen."
"You were here all along?" You realized the alarming implications of his confession. If he could see you whenever you were in the room, that meant everytime you thought you were alone, or all those times you dressed and undressed in front of this very mirror…
"Well, I cannot exactly move away, dear princess. All I could do was conceal my presence in order to avoid frightening you."
"So you admit you were watching me?" Your arms shot up to cover your chest, a deep flush spreading over your cheeks. "I'll have to cover you from now on."
"If you are willing to trust me, I give you my word that I have not laid eyes on your body. Although I am unable to move this mirror, I can easily look away."
For some reason, you believed this mysterious man in the mirror. If it were your suitor, you'd immediately call his bluff, but there was a sense of groundedness in the way he talks that immediately dispels all doubt.
"Alright, I'll keep you uncovered for now, but you'll have to hide when my maids are in the room. I don't want to explain why there's a man in my mirror."
"As long as it eases your nerves, I am happy to oblige."
You took a seat at the edge of your bed facing the mirror. "So… how did you end up in this mirror? How long have you been stuck in there?"
Zhongli's gaze swept over your expression, finding nothing but genuine curiosity. He did not expect you to accept his existence so quickly. He had imagined all of the ways you could possibly react to him, including getting rid of this mirror. Of course, if you did choose to discard him, he would have no way to retaliate or convince you otherwise. Over the years he had been in your possession, silently observing you from the perspective of an inanimate object, he had formed an unusual attachment to you. He had served countless masters before. Some were kind and some were selfish. It was natural that he would have a fond disposition for the kinder ones like you, so if you were to react badly to his presence, he would inevitably regret revealing himself to you. Over the course of time, he had grown increasingly hesitant to show himself, shying away from forging needless attachments that would often leave him feeling empty. He had not formed a bond with an owner of this mirror for centuries, so to show himself to you like this had been an unexpected turn of events.
"I'm afraid I am also at a loss regarding how old this mirror is. It's already been a thousand years since I've been sealed inside it. As for the reason, that is a story for another time. If you truly want to know I will tell you when the time comes."
"How did you know it was the gardener when you're stuck in my room? You even know what they look like." You finally asked the question that had been bugging you ever since he revealed to you who the culprit behind your father's failing health was. "Would you happen to know which kingdom is behind it? Someone wants my father dead. I need to know who!"
"My powers are mostly confined to this mirror, but a small amount of it is able to breach the walls of this room as well as this very castle. Unfortunately, it is not enough to permeate the entire kingdom nor its surrounding lands so I am not capable of true omniscience."
Your mind reeled from the information Zhongli was so casually disclosing to you. "A small amount and you're able to know all this? How powerful would you be if you were completely unsealed?"
He chuckled, amused at your train of thought. "Fortunate for you, I am sealed rather securely. If I were to regain the entirety of my powers, this world would not be able to sustain me. All these beautiful mountains and seas would cease to exist."
You sucked in a sharp breath as you imagined everything around you disappearing in an instant. Somehow, instead of riveting fear, a sense of warmth and a dull ache settled in your chest once you fully grasped what he was saying. This god-like entity trapped in your mirror possessed a kind soul, despite sharing a name with a demon.
Ever since Zhongli showed himself to you, he was always there when you were alone in your room. He greeted you in the morning before your maids came in to help you get dressed and bid you goodnight before you went to bed. You began to get used to his constant, charming presence. He was quite the chatterbox, but not in a way that grated at your ears. You found yourself getting used to the gentle drawl of his voice, finding it the perfect velvety pitch to lull you to sleep after an exhausting day of running the kingdom on behalf of your sick father. That gardener Zhongli showed you had been arrested and replaced, but you could not let such oversight happen again.
Whenever you needed a second opinion, you'd rush back to your bed chamber to consult with the man in your mirror. The council members who had initially doubted your capabilities were gradually won over by you. Even your own father, the king, joked about retiring early to enjoy his twilight years. He had been recovering nicely over the spring and summer months and was almost back to his full health.
Your father's failing health was undoubtedly supposed to be the catalyst in somebody's plan to pressure you into marriage, but instead, you had successfully turned it into a chance to show off your ruling prowess. Under your surrogate rule, trade flourished, food was plentiful, villages were safe from bandits, and the people thrived. Already, the common folk were singing praises of their princess in the streets, of how she was their crown jewel, the pride of the kingdom. This pleased you far beyond their admiration of your beauty.
A smirk had been plastered on your lips ever since you were told this news, because everything was playing out exactly as you had hoped. This chess board took you half a year to turn around, but the satisfaction of seeing everything fall into place as you imagined was the most satisfying thing you've ever experienced. With this progression of events, your suitors had already been outshined by you. None of the princes vying for your hand had any actual experience running a kingdom, much less excelling in it. It would be much more reasonable now for you to reject their proposals in favor of a young lord hailing from your own kingdom instead of marrying yourself off to a foreign prince and serving your own crown to them on a silver platter.
All you needed was a suitable lord to marry.
"Who do you suggest?" You asked your all-knowing consultant man in the mirror.
Zhongli stroked his chin in thought. You stole a glance, gaze falling on his furrowed brow. Everytime you asked him a hard question, he'd look so focused and devoted to finding you an answer that would garner the best results. His advice was your most valuable asset and the reason you could rule with such confidence. A sigh escaped your lips as a silly thought crossed your mind.
It would've been nice if you could just name Zhongli as your royal consort. He was pretty much doing the job already. Just like the first time he helped you, he had done so simply because he could not stand the sight of you distressed. He had never gained anything in return for his guidance. You wondered if he had always given such dedication to all the previous owners of this mirror. The sobering thought brought you a bit of closure. You couldn't help but feel like you owed him something, but if that was the case, so did all the owners before you.
"I believe there are three candidates that would be a good match for you." He gave the names along with his reasoning for why each one had been chosen.
You nodded in agreement, eyes sweeping over his face, unknowingly searching for some sort of fluctuation. You laughed inwardly. Why would he, an ancient entity trapped within a magic mirror, be distressed by the possibility of you marrying another man?
You were just one of countless faces who called out to him from the other side of this mirror. Zhongli was your closest confidant, perhaps even more irreplaceable now than your most trusted maid or royal secretary. He was your best kept secret, the most powerful piece on your chessboard, one you knew you'd never be able to put down, and someone you had maybe grown a little too fond of over the past year.
"Have you ever thought about how things between us would change once I've become another man's wife?"
"It is your choice whether or not you decide to disclose my existence. Although it would be difficult to hide me from someone you share a bed with every night, I did manage to evade you until I decided to reveal myself. You have my word and utmost discretion. I will always answer to you, my princess, not your future consort."
"You can imagine me sharing a bed with another man?" You asked, voice taunt with unwarranted disappointment.
"Why yes. That is an inevitability if you are to be wed, my princess."
"And you are completely fine with that…" You drew in an unsteady breath. Of course he would be, you just wanted to be sure, needed to hear it from his own lips.
"Is something the matter, dear?" Zhongli asks, realizing that his answer had somehow caused you distress.
You shook your head, pulling a smile onto your lips. "I will give your three candidates consideration."
With that, you left him alone in the room. For the first time since you had met him, you were in a hurry to get away. It wasn't that you suddenly despised Zhongli. Quite the opposite, you were acutely aware of how attached you had gotten to the man in your mirror. His voice was like a fine, aged wine that intoxicated your senses. That devastatingly handsome face of his made it near impossible for another man to occupy your imagination. His soft gaze and gentle smile had your stomach afluttter when you least expect it.
You had all the dashing young lords in your kingdom to choose from and foreign princes fighting over your hand, but you wanted a man who was stuck in your bedroom mirror. To rub salt into your imaginary wound, you asked him to suggest husband candidates for you and he delivered without any hesitation. You really were making this unnecessarily hard for yourself.
A royal consort had been selected and news had spread throughout the kingdom and beyond. Preparations had begun as soon as the invitations were sent. All the lords and ladies of the kingdom as well as represenring guests from neighboring kingdoms would be attending the royal wedding.
Everybody, even the common folk, were excited for the crown princess's wedding. Their beloved princess had chosen to stay and rule, marrying below her instead of taking the hand of one of the many foreign princes that had been fighting over her hand since the royal ball. The anticipation in the streets was contagious, spreading back into the castle through the chattering between maids and chamberlains. It eventually reached your ears, causing you to sigh.
The entire kingdom was happy for you, so you ought to show more excitement. Little did they know, you had taken the words of your maid to heart, the one who reminded you on the night of your birthday ball about how marriages involving royals were often in name only. You chose the son of one of your father's most loyal generals. Tying a military family to you by marriage was a strategic maneuver that royals often make.
Your chosen consort was a kind and noble man with a good reputation and merits that put your royal suitors to shame. His family had defended the kingdom for generations and he had sworn his protection to you as well. He had a secret lover that he had promised himself to that his family would never allow, but you could. As long as he gave you his word to defend your honor, you could care less what he was doing in his own bedroom. He had signed a contract to never touch you without your permission, so it was the perfect arrangement. The wedding would commence as planned and this headache that had plagued you for years would finally be over for good.
"I know you don't agree with who I chose, but it's my life, not yours. I'll take responsibility for the decisions I make." You reassured Zhongli when he suggested that there was still time for you to change your mind.
The wedding was two months away. It didn't come as a surprise to you when you found out that Zhongli knew about your secret contract with your husband-to-be. He was under the impression that you were going to marry someone you truly liked and follow in your parent's footsteps, but instead you went for a man who had already given his heart away.
"I do like him." You insisted. "A lot, actually. He's a good man, honest and trustworthy. He'll make a good husband."
"He will not be able to fulfill all your wishes, my dear princess. You've taken less than what you desire."
"There's no such thing as a perfect match. Even if there is, fate might not allow it to last. Just look at my father." You went on with your reasoning. "My consort might not love me in the way a lover ought to, but he has genuine love in his heart for this kingdom and its people. That's even more precious."
Zhongli fell silent, finally giving up on convincing you otherwise.
"I simply do not wish to see you amass regrets." He said. "Life is much too short for humans as is. It would sadden me to see you burdened with such memories."
"I won't regret it, I promise." You looked up at Zhongli, mustering up the most reassuring smile you could.
The wedding day finally came. Your husband's lover had been secretly brought into the castle as a maid and given a room adjacent to your bed chamber. She would wait for your husband to return from the royal reception while you would spend the night alone in peace. You had planned everything out meticulously and made sure that all the staff serving you tonight were trustworthy. It would not serve you any good to have questionable rumors floating around the castle following your wedding.
"Have you… ever loved before?" You asked the man in the mirror. "I know you're probably well past the age to be affected by such pesky emotions, but I'm just curious. Was there a time long ago where your heart belonged to someone?"
"Certainly." He didn't even hesitate.
Your heart clenched from the unexpected sting of his confirmation. So Zhongli wasn’t immune to the feelings that had been plaguing you ever since you discovered them.
"You've probably gotten over them by now I hope."
He chuckled. "I have, indeed. Time heals all wounds, my dear princess. While it is painful, such experiences are inevitable."
"Do you think about them sometimes?" You asked.
"I do, though not often."
"Can you think about me too once in a while after I'm gone?"
"You will shine like gold in my memories." Zhongli's lips curved into a faint smile.
You mirrored his smile. That was the best you could hope for. What more could you possibly ask for from him?
"Are you perhaps feeling a little sentimental because of the upcoming wedding, my princess?"
You nodded, taking a shawl from the ornate tree by the mirror and draping it over your shoulders.
"I'm going to take a stroll in the gardens."
"You shall find me here when you return." Zhongli replied, amber eyes seeing you out as you made your way to the door.
The air was cooler in the castle gardens at night than in the day. Lights sat on top of metal posts, casting a warm glow on the garden pathway below. It was a popular place for lovebirds to gather. Maids and guards stole moments together on moonlit benches and hushed whispers passed from rosy lips to flushed ears. You too wished you could experience such simple bliss, but your heart had flung itself at someone who could not even reciprocate.
A heavy sigh expelled from your lungs. While you didn't regret falling for Zhongli, you couldn't help but wish for things you knew you'd never receive, not with him being stuck in a mirror. The sight of other couples spending time in the gardens together never failed to remind you of how lonely being in love with him sometimes feels. You could not hold his hands nor touch his face, much less embrace or kiss him.
Melodic bells and harmonic music beckoned the blessed union of the crown princess and her betrothed. Vows were exchanged in front of a cheering crowd and a carriage was drawn through the streets so that the people could celebrate with the royal couple. Flowers were tossed in the air, covering the streets and landing on the carriage seats. Your gaze combed through the crowds, a dazzling smile on your lips as you held onto your veil which was billowing in the breeze.
Out of the corner of your eyes, you spotted someone. You almost thought you imagined them, but those eyes, you would not mistake them anywhere. You blinked. That same person in the crowd stood there, looking around confusedly while your carriage rolled past, as if they had just woken up from a trance. Their eyes were no longer an intense amber color. They were now green like the garden pools.
Were you seeing things just now?
Although you knew Zhongli's powers could breach the castle, you had never actually seen him use it. Had he come to celebrate your wedding and give his blessing? Was he also there when you were standing in front of the grand altar, promising your eternal love to another man? If he was in the crowd then too, what was going through his mind when your husband-to-be lifted your veil to kiss you on the lips in front of a thousand cheering witnesses?
Did his heart ache just a little?
With the entire kingdom's attention on your wedding, the castle itself had become vulnerable. A woman stood in front of your mirror, staring intently at her own gold-tinted reflection, waiting. While you were being paraded through the lively streets with your husband, the castle was a stark contrast, cold and quiet. A lone figure had slipped into your bed chamber. The woman was small and frail, but strikingly beautiful, as stated on the descriptions you had gathered of your husband's secret lover.
"I've been waiting for you." Zhongli finally appeared.
"Why did you not have her stop me if you knew I was coming for you?" The woman said as her form shifts into someone more recognizable. Luscious blond locks cascade down her shoulders, partially covered by a shimmering cloak that draped over her shoulders. "Could it be that you missed seeing my face?"
"You will not succeed this time either." Zhongli crossed his arms in front of his chest, appearing unfazed.
"You know, she's not indestructible like you are."
He narrowed his eyes at the woman. "If you lay a hand on her, I will not hesitate to—"
"So she does mean something to you." The woman's grin widens ominously. "That's absolutely perfect. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this day."
She raised her hand and brushed the tip of her fingers against the golden frame of the mirror. "Gold, something that can only be created by harnessing the power of a sun eight times the size of Teyvat's. What do you think will happen if that sort of power is unleashed on this land?"
"Have you not caused enough destruction? Do you want to repeat Khaenri'ah's calamity here as well?"
"Pathetic. This is why Celestia has a collar around your neck. Your compassion is just going to keep us trapped here forever. Don't you want to go back?"
"It is a small price to pay. The contract still stands."
"You don't mind it here, but I want to go home. I'm not going let you stop me this time." She turns around one last time before leaving the room. Her face and body had already reverted back into that of a timid young woman. "Although I can't force you to open that portal for me, you can only watch helplessly if something were to happen to your precious princess. Don't be so stubborn, Morax."
When you returned to your bed chamber after the reception, you were more tipsy than you planned to be. You could only blame it on your husband. For such a large man, he had the tolerance of a little boy, so you ended up receiving toasts on his behalf while keeping him propped up against your arm. You lost count of how many toasts you received and had drank more glasses of wine than you could hold. Your father's health had been restored and despite the royal physician's warnings, even he insisted on toasting you with wine.
To your surprise, your husband's lover was not in the adjacent room and her door was locked. You staggered into your own room, losing your balance. You fell onto your bed as he fell on top of you. After a brief struggle with his deadweight, a ribbon of golden dust wrapped around your unconscious husband's arms and dragged him off your body.
"Thank you, Zhongli." You breathed a sigh of relief. "I didn't know you could do that."
"I can only use my powers in limited capacity in the direct vicinity of this mirror."
You glanced back at the man out cold on your bed as you got up and made your way towards the mirror. "He'll have to stay here until his lover comes back. Do you know where she went?"
Zhongli nodded. "She went to the north tower."
Your brows creased. "Why would she go there?"
"The royal physician's office and quarters are located there." Zhongli reminded you. "Perhaps she went to procure some herbs."
Your eyes darted down at the unconscious man lying on your bed. "Zhongli, help me undress."
"Pardon me?" Zhongli sounded genuinely shocked that such a request had come out of your lips.
The elaborate wedding gown you had on still required removal. Underneath it were layers upon layers of petticoat and underskirt that you were desperate to be rid of. You gathered your hair over one shoulder and turned to present your back to him.
"Just untie the bodice for me. I can manage the rest."
Zhongli cleared his throat, silence falling between the two of you.
"I'd like to take a proper look at you first. May I?" He finally spoke up.
The corner of your lips curled ever so slightly. You recalled the pair of amber eyes you caught while riding through the city.
"I thought you've seen enough of me already. I saw you today, in the crowd."
Zhongli hummed in acknowledgment. "I was not truly present per se, but I did manage to catch a fleeting glimpse of you."
A smile spread over your lips as you turned around to face Zhongli. His request caused your heart to race. Even though this marriage was in name only, you had spared no effort in the preparations, including your own appearance. You received plenty of praise, but it wasn't until Zhongli's eyes swept over your form in admiration that you truly felt seen. His gaze was respectful as always, but his eyes couldn't help but linger. At that moment, you had forgotten that your groom was out cold on your bed. Your radiant smile was for the man in the mirror.
"You look lovely, dear." He uttered, slightly breathless.
You could barely contain the sweetness overflowing into your chest, making you lightheaded.
"If you're done looking, help me untie the ribbons." You reminded him as you spun around again.
Zhongli raised a hand. A tendril of golden dust drifted through the surface of the mirror and curled around the ends of your ribbon, tugging the bow apart. He carefully maneuvered the strand of energy, loosening the criss-crossing weave. You clutched your bodice as it came undone.
"Thank you." You uttered as you walked off towards the wardrobe to find something lighter to wear. He lowered his hand, looking away as you changed.
There was a knock on the door. Zhongli had disappeared, leaving the antique mirror looking like an ordinary one.
"Your Grace, I brought you a tonic to help neutralize the alcohol you drank." Your husband's lover came in, head bowed, with a tray in her hand. "Please take it while it's hot. I've added some rock sugar to improve the taste."
"That was why you were at the north tower? To bring me this?" You approached the woman, picking up the cup.
"Yes, your Grace." She answered, trembling slightly in your presence.
Your eyes softened, bringing the rim of the cup to your lips and taking a sip. The poor woman must've been taken aback by your accusatory tone just now. She stood there, holding the empty tray against her knees.
"Take him with you." You ordered, glancing at your husband.
While she heaved the man up from the bed, you patted your lips dry with a napkin.
The door shut and you were finally alone in your room, save for Zhongli who had reappeared.
"You should not have taken that tonic." The man in the mirror says ominously.
"Was there something wrong with it?"
You picked up the empty cup again, examining it. Even if the woman secretly despised you for marrying her lover, she wouldn't dare poison the crown princess so obviously. The effects of the alcohol you had been pouring down your throat all evening also seemed to be lessening, indicating that the tonic was indeed doing what it was intended to. Your thoughts were more clear and your vision had stopped swaying. It was not only an effective tonic, but a surprisingly potent one.
Zhongli's brows creased as he pondered what that scheming witch might be up to. She had played right into your sympathetic nature to lower your guard. If it were in fact poison in that cup, you'd have collapsed already. He could not be certain what exactly was in the tonic, but he could deduce that at least it was not lethal.
Just like him, his impatient adversary also suffered from stunted powers. The seal affected them equally, reducing her to a fraction of what she was once known for. This world was a natural seal, whimsical on the surface, but starved of the elements required to facilitate alchemical transitions. It had been carefully selected to be her prison, with him as her sole prison guard. Naturally, that also made him her only hope of escape.
"Do you feel unusual in any way?" Zhongli asked you.
"Now that you ask, I do feel a little hot." You looked up to meet his concerned eyes, hand reaching for the buttons at the neck of your night gown, unfastening them.
The flush on your skin had returned, or perhaps it had never subsided. Were you still drunk? That couldn't be. You didn't feel at all tipsy.
"Zhongli…" You clutched the edge of the mirror for support as your breathing grew increasingly shallow. "You're right, I think there's definitely something else in that tonic…"
"Dear, what are you doing?" His eyes widened as your hand continued to unfasten those buttons running down the front of your nightgown, one after the other.
"I feel strange…" You continued to rid yourself of the only layer keeping your body from his eyes. "It feels like I'm going to melt, Zhongli."
He had to turn around to avoid seeing something you didn't intend for him to. You were leaning right against the mirror, warm breath clouding up the surface.
It was now clear to the both of you what you had ingested. His mind raced, frantically grappling with what was unfolding behind his back. What was that witch trying to do, getting you in this precarious state?
Your uneven breaths fanned against the smooth metal surface of the mirror. He could almost feel the heat from your body pressing up against him.
"Zhongli." You all but panted his name, voice heavy with unspoken need. "Turn around."
"Are you sure you want me to face you?"
"Yes. Please…" You replied. "Don't turn your back on me right now."
He slowly turned around, eyes meeting your feverish gaze. In a matter of minutes, the effects of the tonic had already reduced you into a trembling mess. Your eyes were clouded with dew and your cheeks, neck, and shoulders were tinged with an alluring pink flush.
Your eyelids shut as you leaned forward, pressing your lips against the surface of the mirror, right where his lips were. Zhongli drew in a breath, realizing immediately what you were trying to do.
Zhongli raised a hand, a tendril of golden dust drifting from the tip of his fingers. It brushed against your lips, caressing them gently. He sighed as he took a step closer, hand pressed against the barrier of the seal. He could not touch you even if he tried.
"I'm sorry, my dear." He uttered, the deep baritone of his voice soothing as usual.
You opened your eyes to see Zhongli’s face just above yours. His palm rested against your cheek. If he just leaned in, he could kiss you, but his lips would be separated by the mirror, just like his hand.
"It's alright…" A shuttered breath expelled from your lips. "I can manage on my own."
"Perhaps I can make this easier for you." He offered, though you couldn't fathom how he'd possibly be of help trapped inside your mirror.
Your eyes widened in panic when he disappeared. Was this how he intended to help you, by removing himself from your sight?
The surface of the mirror rippled. When it stilled, your reflection stared back at you. Another ripple cascaded across the smooth surface, this time revealing a familiar figure standing just behind you. A deep sigh curled against your ear. You turned to look over your shoulder.
There was nobody there. He was still stuck in the mirror. Still, what you were seeing in the mirror had your mind convinced. A faint golden shimmer dusted the air around you.
"Would this work, my princess?"
You swallowed thickly, face growing even hotter from how realistic his illusion was.
"I think so."
In the mirror, Zhongli's hand wrapped around you from behind as he lowered his lips against your exposed neck. Anticipation bubbled in the pit of your stomach. You could clearly feel his kisses as he scattered them along your shoulder. Your senses were being fooled, but you gladly allowed him to play with them.
"Why don't we have a seat?" He suggested.
You nodded, backing up until your knees connected with the edge of the bed. You lowered yourself onto it, seeing Zhongli pull you into his lap as you did. The sight made your head spin and your heart race.
His hand lifted from your waist, gliding up your arm. With the front of your nightgown unbuttoned, your luscious cleavage peaked out from the opening. A faint ribbon of golden dust drifted in. On the mirror, your eyes followed his hand as it slipped underneath the fabric of your nightgown. You let out a startled gasp as you felt a hand cup one of your breasts. Long fingers splayed over your soft mounds, fondling them gently.
"Do let me know if I am too rough, my dear." Zhongli whispered in your ear.
A soft moan drifted from your lips as his other hand joined in. He pulled the front of your dress down, fully exposing your chest. His hands kneaded your breasts, pinching and rolling the sensitive peaks between his fingers as he continued to shower your neck with wet kisses. Your back arched as the sensations mounted.
"Zhongli… I feel…"
"Does this feel good, my dear princess?"
"Yes." You moaned.
"Show me how good it's making you feel. Let me see it."
"H-how?"
"Lift your skirt and spread your legs for me, darling." He instructed.
He had known you for long enough to know that you have never had the chance to explore the pleasures of your own body. It was a pity, truly. You had blossomed into such a beauty, your enchanting body untouched and unappreciated. To think that you're sitting at the edge of your own bed, in such a state of undress, moaning in such a needy, breathy voice on your own wedding night. Your supposed groom was nowhere in sight and he was the only one left who could alleviate the desire burning inside of you.
Zhongli could not stand and do nothing, letting you endure the torment of that spiked cup of tonic alone. Although he had yet to figure out what twisted purpose this serves that witch, surely his overreach was reasonable. Just look at you, so shamelessly following his orders, like you had forgotten all your dignity as a princess, parting your legs so lewdly for him without any hesitation. Chiffon fabric gave way to silky skin. His eyes burned with intensity, unable to look away from the glimmering wetness adorning the piece of fabric covering your most secretive place.
"Why don't you do away with that? Along with the dress." He suggested in a hushed voice.
"Zhongli…" You shuttered at his request, heat pooling even more between your legs.
You did as told, standing up on shaky legs and removing all the layers obstructing your tantalizing body from his hungry gaze. As you tugged off your dress and your remaining undergarments, he peppered kisses along your neck. In the mirror, his hands roamed the expanses of soft skin you had given him access to. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your intoxicating scent.
"You're drenched, my princess. Do you desire me so much?" He breathed, teasing your flushed ear with his constant reverberating baritone. "Would you like me to touch you here?"
"Please… Zhongli…" You immediately caved.
Golden dust curled against your glistening folds. You could see Zhongli’s hand slip between your legs, fingers swiping along your wet entrance. The visual stimulation had you trembling. Slick dripped from your precious slit like drops of glistening nectar, an invitation for him as much as the words you breathlessly uttered.
"I shall do my best to satisfy you, my darling."
An adorable squeak escaped your lips when his finger sinks into your wet core. On the mirror, you could see Zhongli pumping a single long digit in and out if your squelching hole. He could only imagine the tightness and warmth of your body as you sat there between his legs, naked and pressed up against his chest. Such a decadent sight you were, so eager to be touched in such a shameless manner. He wanted nothing more than to fill this needy hole in you, stuff you to the brim like you so desperately yearned to be.
"More, Zhongli. I… I need more…"
You whimpered, growing increasingly unsatisfied with the bit of friction he was able to conjure with his powers. Golden dust pulsated within a narrow stream of energy between your legs. His unsteady breathing drifted into your ear. You wondered if he was also losing his grip on reality as you were. In the mirror's reflection, Zhongli added a second finger and then moments later, a third, plunging them into your insatiable cunt at a frenzied pace. You tensed, slicked walls clenching around his fingers, or what he had your pussy convinced were that.
"Oh, my sweet princess. Are you close?" He whispered huskily against your ear. "If you are, come for me."
You shuttered, letting out a muffled cry as you threw your hand over your lips. A euphoric sensation rippled through your body as you came undone.
"Very good, darling." His praise curled against your ear as you collapsed against your plush bedsheets.
Zhongli’s reflection in the mirror faded as the surface rippled. He was standing before you once again, impeccable as he had always been. Not a strand of hair was out of place and not a wrinkle was on his clothes. His appearance was a stark contrast to yours.
"How do you feel now? It appears the tonic has run its course." He noted, observant gaze raking over your naked form.
"I'm fine." You mumbled against your bed, curling into a ball against the silk. "Thank you."
Zhongli fell silent, stroking his chin in thought. Things had certainly progressed in a direction he had not anticipated tonight, thanks to the intervention of a certain witch he had yet to disclose the identity of to you. If you continued to keep her close, there's no telling what kind of trouble that woman would stir up for you. A cup of spiked tonic was all it took to irreversibly change the relationship between you and him.
He could no longer feign ignorance to the feelings you had been bottling up. That bottle was now shattered, its contents shamelessly dripping down the inside of your thighs. You were no doubt recoiling from the absurdity of what had just happened. The tone of your voice when you thanked him and the graininess that threaded your curt words was telling enough.
"My silly princess, I will cherish this memory just as I do all our others. I do not regret it."
You opened your eyes slowly, casting your gaze back at the mirror. His words seemed to breathe life back into your shriveled dignity.
"Come here, dear." He called out to you.
You sat up from your bed, climbed off, and dragged yourself over to the antique mirror where Zhongli was waiting for you. His eyes gently swept over your body, still bared, so beautiful and vulnerable in his eyes. A faint ribbon of golden dust encircled your waist, drawing you closer to him, so close that you could feel your breasts flatten against the smooth surface. Your forehead rested against the mirror. Zhongli bent down, pressing his lips against the seal.
"Now go to sleep, my princess. Go get some rest. There is much that awaits your attention tomorrow."
You sighed, raising your gaze to meet Zhongli's smoldering amber eyes. The gentle pressure around your waist released and you made your way back to your bed, slipping your nightgown back on.
Morning came, beckoned by the cheerful chirping of birds. It was like any other morning for you, except now you had a husband.
Zhongli greeted you as you sat up and stretched, disappearing when a knock sounded on the door. Your new chamber maid, who happened to also be your husband's secret lover, came in to open the curtains and help you get dressed. The entire time, she acted as if the cup of tonic she had brought you last night had not been tampered with. You even suspected she was unaware, given her timid appearance. Still, Zhongli's warning rang clear in your mind. He would not be so adamant about removing the woman from your vicinity if there was not something suspicious going on with her.
"Perhaps keeping your little lover in the castle is not such a good idea." You brought up with your husband over brunch.
"But you agreed to—"
"How about keeping her at one of the residences by your command post? Afterall, you stay there overnight on occasion. I only need you here in the castle every so often to keep up the image."
Your husband's face relaxed when he realized you were not going back on your words.
"Do you have so little faith in me? We might not be in love with each other, but I do value your family's contributions to the royal family. I do not take this union lightly."
The awkward brunch ended and the two of you went your separate ways, you to the throne room to meet with the royal councils and him to the military command post.
While you were in the throne room, a chamberlain was sent to notify your husband's lover about your mutual decision. Her surprise was a given, but she had no choice but to pack her belongings. The crown princess wanted her out of the castle. What could she do?
When the chamberlain left, she slipped into your bedroom, heading straight for the mirror in the corner of the room. The surface rippled, revealing Zhongli. The woman had already shifted back into her true appearance. Gone was the timid lover. In her place stood a tall blonde draped in an iridescent cloak.
"You didn't enjoy my wedding gift?" The witch smirks. "I was hoping you'd take it as a gesture of good will on my part. Your little princess could've been dead last night instead of just horny."
"I suppose I am indebted to you for sparing her life." He chuckled, a steeled edge in his tone. "You have not changed one bit, I'm afraid."
"I'm rather proud of that fact. Unlike you, I haven't gotten soft."
"I have always retained my sympathy towards humanity. It is not something that spawned after we were sent here."
"I still believe we can be on the same page, Morax. Help me escape and I won't lay a hand on her. Removing me from this castle will only work as a temporary solution. I know she's your weakness. If something were to happen to her outside these castle walls, you'd only be able to watch. I might not be able to open that portal, but there's plenty of ways to lure her out. If I can't get what I want, I'll make sure you won't have it either. I can promise you that much, Morax."
"She is not lacking in intelligence nor resourcefulness. Neither will I stand by and let you harm her."
"Touche." The witch laughed. "I'm almost moved by how much adoration you have for her."
Zhongli didn't refute that sarcastic remark.
"I will be back." She dropped before turning on her heels, her form shifting back into that of a timid maid.
The man in the mirror sighed, wondering what kind of turmoil the crazy witch was capable of bringing down on this land. Knowing what kind of destruction she had already sowed in the past, he was not about to put her past igniting war or committing atrocities that would result in the deaths of countless innocents.
Were you truly about to be his weak link? Simply because you managed to slip into his heart?
If only there was a way he could ensure your safety without putting this entire land into jeopardy. You were a good person, a kind-hearted princess with noble aspirations and a strong spirit. You deserved to be loved and cherished by the kingdom simply because he knows, if it came down to it, you'd willingly throw yourself into the abyss if it ensured your people would be safe from harm.
He was never one to over-enforce restrictions on others, but the thought of locking you up in this castle suddenly became a rather seductive idea. Preventing you from leaving his sight was not enough. He couldn't protect you if you strayed too far. His powers would not even be sufficient to conjure a thick enough shield to stop an arrow outside these castle walls. The witch already knew, he'd only be able to watch.
Helpless was not something this ancient god was accustomed to feeling. At last, though the idea was tempting, he would never willingly clip your wings.
"Zhongli, what do you think of this one? It's short enough to ride a horse in." You excitedly went through your wardrobe. "Maybe I should just wear pants. I'm the crown princess. Nobody dares wag their finger at me anyways."
It had been a while since you had accompanied your father on a hunting trip. He had been itching for one ever since he made a full recovery, but your royal wedding had to come before recreation. Your husband, the royal consort would be accompanying you, which meant his lover would also be tagging along. You reminded him to stay in line and not draw attention to his romantic affairs, but he was too smitten with the woman. Even in your presence, he could not shut up about her. You wondered if he was under some kind of love potion.
"You look lovely in both, but I do agree that pants would suit the occasion more. Riding could get rough and the leggings that you'd have to wear underneath the skirt would not suffice, I'm afraid."
"Pants it is then." You decided. "I can just imagine the looks of disapproval those court ladies are going to throw my way, but what can they do? When they see their princess ride, their own daughters would be asking why they can't."
Zhongli chuckled. "You are a trendsetter indeed."
"Have you ever ridden a horse, Zhongli?" You asked, curiosity practically pouring from your eyes.
"We do not have horses where I'm from."
"So you just walk everywhere you have to go?"
"For the most part yes. I can also transform into various forms to facilitate travel."
"Other forms?" Your eyes widened.
You suddenly lost all interest in your hunting outfit and walked up to the mirror.
"Yes." He chuckled at your childlike reaction. If he were to make an assumption, you'd ask to see this travel form of his next.
"Can you show me?"
"Are you sure? It could change how you see me. I do not want to frighten you, dear."
You grinned. "You can turn into a giant worm and I'd still see you the same way."
"Very well." He smiled, seemingly infected by the optimism in your words. A dragon is not so unlike a worm.
Zhongli backed away from the mirror, his form shrinking with distance. Suddenly a bright glow emitted from the surface of his body, flooding the space inside the mirror. It was so blinding that you had to throw a hand over your eyes. When the light subsided and you lowered your arm, your lips parted in sheer awe at the magnificent creature in the mirror. Glass-like scales covered its long serpentine body. A billowing mane framed the creature's head. It looked like it would be soft if you could comb your fingers through it. A pair of crystalline horns sprouted from the top of its head. Light bounced off its curved surface like the facets of a gemstone. He was beautiful beyond anything you had ever laid your eyes on.
"I've only ever read about dragons in story books. I thought they were just myths…" You uttered, still taking in the sight in front of you.
"They are quite numerous where I come from." Zhongli's deep voice came out of the creature. You could see the tips of sharp teeth peek out from his jaws as he spoke.
"You're not as monstrous as the stories say."
"Those stories perhaps have some merit. Few dragons hold good will towards humans. There is deeply-rooted animosity between our kinds, one that has taken thousands of years to simmer down."
"Where you come from, they don't get along?"
"It has gotten better by the time I arrived here."
"Why did you come here, Zhongli?"
He fell into silence. For a moment, you thought you had brought up a subject he was unwilling to discuss with you. You had always been curious about Zhongli's past, what had possibly brought him to your world, and perhaps why he had not gone back.
"With great power comes immense responsibility, dear princess. My powers may be sealed, but it is of my own volition. I do not wish to see your people suffer, just as I could not stand to watch the people of my own world suffer. That is why I am here, to ensure no harm befalls the innocent."
You listened carefully, letting each and every precious word seep in. This was the first time Zhongli was telling you so much about himself, opening up to you about his past. You had always been interested in his story, but while he had been nothing but understanding and helpful to you, you knew scarcely anything about him.
"There is a powerful witch imprisoned in your world. She wishes to return to her home, the same world I have been sent from. My dear princess, I am the only one with the power to keep her sealed. However, she has discovered a way to undermine my authority."
Second passed and silence thickened like an unsettling cold around your body. A chilling thought materialized in your mind. Your eyes widened while his gaze continued to bore into yours. The brilliant amber color seared into your soul like a brand of molten gold.
"Me?"
"I wish it were not so." Zhongli sighed as he resumed his human form, walking towards you until he was standing directly on the other side of the mirror's surface.
"She knows about us?"
He nodded, eyes softening as he reached up. A gentle ribbon of golden dust swept across your cheek like the caress of a hand.
"What happens if I fall into her hands?"
"I'm not certain." His brows furrowed. "If that happens outside of these castle walls, I am powerless to stop her."
"If I die, you're not going to open the door for her either."
"Indeed I won't."
You smiled, shrugging. "So I'm safe."
He shook his head. "She may just kill you out of spite."
The smile melted off your lips. "She must be really pent up."
"That she is. She has been imprisoned here for a long time, essentially with her hands tied behind her back. If she cannot use you to achieve her goals, she will not hesitate to use you to bring me misery."
"What a bitter woman." You scrunched your nose. "Who is she? She has to be someone I'm acquainted with since she knows about you."
Zhongli cleared his throat, dodging your gaze all of a sudden.
"Show me." You demanded him.
You could see Zhongli draw in a deep breath before he faded from the surface of the mirror in a series of ripples. In his place stood a woman, small in stature, timid like a mouse, but with an undeniably beautiful face.
"The lover." Your eyes widened.
You glared at the mirror, unable to believe your eyes. The unforgettable events of your wedding night fluttered through your mind, causing your heart to race and heat to rise in your cheeks. He knew that woman was up to no good and didn't say a single word to you!
The woman disappeared and Zhongli returned. "I tried to dissuade you from choosing your then-fiance, but your mind was already made up. It would not have made a difference in the grand scale of things had you known. You sent her away the next day, so the immediate threat was eliminated at the time."
"I'll be careful and keep an eye out on her."
"Caution would be best."
Another thought crossed your mind. "Do you know any way to undo a love potion?"
Zhongli crossed his arms, stroking his chin. "I am not familiar with such potions, but I am aware that they are not lethal. One would have to wait until the potion's effects wear off and ensure that the victim does not ingest a second vial."
"So there's no way to sober someone up prematurely? How about making them shift their attention to someone else?"
"A more potent concentration could make the victim of a love potion divert their attention to a new object of desire, but there is a risk in that as well."
"What kind of risk?"
"I don't think I need to elaborate on what overdosing on lust could lead to, dear princess."
You flushed at the obvious implications of his words. "Right. Maybe I should focus on trying to sober him up."
"Who are we speaking of?"
"My husband. I've been suspecting he's under some kind of spell. He's way too in over his head."
Zhongli chuckled. "Perhaps he truly is in love with that witch."
"You think? She has to pretend to be someone else everytime she's with him. If he were really in love with her, she'd be able to be herself. Even you were able to show your other form to me."
"While you do have a point, I would not jump to that conclusion just yet. Perhaps she has convinced herself that he would be unable to love her in her true skin."
"Fine, I'll find out for sure before I decide what to do with him." You took Zhongli's advice and returned to your previous task of packing up for the hunting trip.
"Take care of yourself, my dear. You will be in my constant thoughts."
A sweet sensation rose in your chest at Zhongli's heartfelt words. Although he could not give you an embrace or kiss you on the cheeks to send you off, he manages to warm your heart in his own way.
The hunting party set off for the royal hunting grounds as soon as the sun rose. You caught the fleeting glimpse of a pair of amber eyes in the crowd as you rode off. Beyond the castle walls, Zhongli's powers tapered off to the point where he could only watch you with borrowed eyes for seconds at a time. Farther and he could not even manage that.
For the first time in the two years since he had shown himself to you, he was completely cut off from you. He could not be certain if you were safe, if you were eating well, sleeping well, if you had someone to confide in. He convinced you to bring one of your old maids along, even though you argued that you were no longer a little girl who needed to be taken care of. He also made you give him your word that you would have two guards stationed at the front of your tent at all times, not that they would be any good against a powerful witch welding magic. Everything Zhongli advised, you went along with, simply because you wanted to put his mind at ease.
"Are you my father?" You remembered teasing him. Even the king had never been this worked up over his daughter going on a mere hunting trip.
Your husband's lover, who you now knew was a powerful witch in disguise, did not try to approach you until the third day of the hunt. You had taken a small party in pursuit of a boar, separating from the King's group, but not by much distance.
"Your Grace, I've been waiting for a chance to catch you alone." The woman emerges from the grove of trees ahead.
"Where is the royal consort? What do you want?" You demanded, eyes sweeping the vicinity. Your two guards were less than twenty feet away, to your relief.
"Just a word. It looks like you've learned of who I am already. Morax didn't withhold my identity from you."
"Morax?"
"The person in your mirror. His name is Morax, or at least it used to be. I'm not sure what he calls himself these days."
"Yes, he's told me a lot about you." You admitted calmly.
The horse underneath you was still a bit unsettled, but you managed to calm it down by stroking its mane.
"Then he must've told you about my intentions. I'm a simple person. Help me escape and he won't have to endure the grief of losing you."
"You're really a one-trick pony, aren't you?"
The witch furrowed her brows, caught off guard by your insult. Her form shifted, revealing a tall woman with flowing golden locks and a glimmering blue cloak that dragged across the fallen leaves, rustling as she walked.
"You don't seem afraid of me, princess." She smiled.
"I'm human, he's going to have to face my death sooner or later. What makes me think you can use my death to threaten me?"
"You don't fear death?"
"There's worse things to fear than death. Unless you're thinking of stooping so low, we have no grounds for negotiation."
"Has he told you what I'm capable of? What I unleashed on Teyvat that brought about my banishment?"
Your ears perked up at the foreign name. Was that the world Zhongli and this witch came from?
"He's never going to unlock the door for you, not even over my dead body. You might as well enjoy your retirement here. Look." You gestured at the vast stretch of trees and the blue sky. "This place is nice, isn't it? What kind of prison is this beautiful? Can't you see that you've been given a second chance and not a coffin to die in? I can't make you put down whatever has you yearning to go back, but from what he's told me about what you did, you won't exactly be welcomed back. Why bother?"
"This world is too small."
You frowned. "How so? It's plenty big for you if it's big enough for me. Who do you think you are?"
The witch's eyes widen again at your audacious words. She had always been feared and admired for her knowledge and mastery in the art of Khemia. Her splendid creations threatened even the order and structure of Celestia itself, causing the gods to descend, raining calamity and curses down in desperation. She had brought gods down to their shaking knees and this ignorant human child was talking down to her?
You hopped off your horse and walked towards the witch. Even though you were shorter than her, you walked with such grace and confidence that she felt diminished. With only a fragment of her full power, she could not bring about destruction on a scale like she used to, but she could still make her prison guard nervous.
A smirk tugged at her lips. "Little one, you're but a frog looking out of a well. What do you know of the vast universe? I can take you places, princess. You don't need to be cooped up in this tiny place."
"Don't little one me. I'm your crown princess and if you don't drop the arrogance, I can have you imprisoned for royal insubordination. Would you rather I throw you into a real prison cell?"
The witch's hand tightened into a fist inside her flowing cloak. This princess was like a mosquito, so fragile, but so annoyingly brave, testing her temper like this.
You were not joking though. Zhongli had made it clear to you that this witch was like a legless crab in your world. She could not use her powers because your world lacked the resources she needed to harness it. It was her natural prison and also what kept everyone here relatively safe. The kind of trouble she was capable of stirring up was limited to simple potions and perhaps explosives that could topple a few walls at most, nothing of the sort she had caused in her home world.
A glint of steel caught your eye and your reflexes kicked in. The dagger fell from the witch's hand and onto the rotting leaves. You backed away immediately after disarming her. Your guards swooped in. One gave her a smack across the back of her neck and she went limp.
You sighed, dusting your gloves off. Looks like she really did prefer a prison cell. You tried to let her off the hook, but this witch had too much of a temper and a big ego. Even though a few years in jail was probably not going to turn her around, at least she couldn't mix potions in a jail cell. You couldn't detain the witch without a reasonable excuse, especially with your husband so lovesick over her, but if she really was controlling him with a potion, he should wake up from it just fine as long as you kept her away from him. Time would prove whether your theory was right or wrong.
"I'll convince her to stay." Your husband begs you, knees on the ground.
It's been two days since his lover disappeared and it took him quite some bribing to finally hear that you were the one who ordered for her arrest. His heart ached imagining the proud woman sitting in a dingy prison cell.
"She doesn't love you." You pointed out. "She probably never will."
"That's fine. I'll try my best. Just let her go."
"She tried to kill me, you fool." You sighed, finally revealing the crime his lover had committed. "Everything she had done so far, including getting close to you, it was so she could get to me."
You couldn't tell him the whole truth, because you had promised Zhongli not to tell another soul what he had revealed to you. As such, you could only fabricate a vague story about revenge and spite.
He sucked in a breath, his jaw clenching. "I'll imprison her myself, under my own eyes. If she raises a blade at you again, I will take my own life along with hers."
Your eyes narrowed at the foolish man. The witch wanted to go home. There was nothing outrageous about that, but you found it a pity that after all these years, she was still convinced there's nothing worth staying in this puny world for. Not even the man kneeling on the ground managed to change her mind. He was not under the influence of any potions, yet apparently still willing to protect the witch with his own life. You doubted she'd be willing to do the same for him. Maybe it was your cynical side itching to be proven wrong, but you agreed to let him have her back, under the condition that she be under house arrest and surveillance at all times.
"Thank you, Your Grace." Your husband breathes a sigh of relief. "I am even more in your debt…"
You laughed, an oddly light-hearted sound after such a heavy conversation. "Get up. I can't have you seen kneeling in front of me like you were just caught cheating."
"Very funny." He snorted, rising up to his feet.
"I'm only letting her off easy because you're vouching your own head on her. I don't want to have to announce your death to the kingdom just because she can't behave. If she makes another move, blood will be spilled."
You weren't sure if it was even possible to kill the witch, but you liked your husband enough to root for him not to end up dead for her sake. Hopefully there was a grain of love in that shriveled up heart of hers.
The hunting trip ended and everybody returned to the castle. You stood in front of your mirror, relaying what had gone down in the woods with the witch and your husband's request to move her prison cell to his other residence by the command post.
"Risky, but I do hope she realizes what she has found. It will not erase what she has done in the past, but would hopefully revive what she has lost in her pursuit of knowledge and power."
"How about you? What makes you willing to stay here? Is it just your duty as prison guard?"
Zhongli's eyes fell on you, a soft smile on his lips.
"Don't say it's me." You added, a tinge of pink coloring your cheeks. "You've been here for far longer than I've been alive."
He let out a hearty chuckle. No matter how many times you hear him laugh, it still manages to make your heart skip a beat.
"Before I met you, it was naturally so. I used to be known as the God of Contracts for a reason."
"The God of Contracts?" You raised a brow. "You know, when I first heard the name Morax, it reminded me of a demon. Demons are known to trick humans into making contracts with them, fulfilling their desires in return for their soul."
"While a human soul would be a hefty price to pay, I can't fathom what one could possibly do with it for it to be a substantial exchange."
It was your turn to laugh. "Right? If I gave you my soul, what would you do with it, Zhongli?"
"I would hold onto it, I suppose."
Your laughter grew even more unrestrained.
"Like a dragon hoarding its spoils." You teased.
"No, like a dragon guarding its precious pearl." He corrected you with an adoring smile.
Zhongli's answers were always a delight, especially since you could clearly hear the sincerity in his voice.
"What was Teyvat like? Do you remember?" You asked.
"I certainly do. It was a world of infinite possibilities, ambitions, and unforgettable memories. I have a deep impression of a place called Liyue in particular, of which I personally watched over for a little over three thousand years."
Three thousand years?
Suddenly, you felt an immeasurable distance fall between you and Zhongli. How many times could a human life fall within that time span?
"How old exactly are you, Zhongli?" You asked, your voice grave.
"I am not quite sure myself." He answered as unembellished as he could. "For much of my existence, the passage of time was unmeasured, much like the breaths you take. It wasn't until I arrived in Teyvat, when I dwelled amongst humans, that I began keeping track of the years. If I were to count the time since I arrived in Teyvat as well as my time here, I believe that would place my age somewhere between six thousand and seven thousand years."
You drew in a deep breath and then let it out steadily. Could you truly believe that someone who had seen and experienced as much as Zhongli had to be captivated by someone as unremarkable as you? You may be royalty, the crown princess, a one-in-a-thousand beauty according to some, but what did that amount to in the face of an ancient being who had seen stone crumble into dust, lineages end, and beauty wither? If your entire past, present, and future were to be condensed, it would only amount to a single grain of sand in his eyes. At most, you'd be an exceptionally bright one, glimmering with all your strength, just to catch his eye for a little longer.
"What's on your mind, dear?" He asked, tone dropping to a concerned pitch.
"It's nothing." You reassured him, mustering a smile you hoped was convincing enough. "I was just surprised. It's no wonder you know so much, about everything."
"My vast knowledge is at your disposal. I have no desire for dominion and my days of ruling are far in the past. Though I do occasionally indulge in reminiscence, there are plenty of new experiences to be had. Do you not agree, my princess?"
"What kind of new experience do I bring?" You asked, intrigued that he was implying you were bringing something entirely new to his unfathomable heap of life experiences, something he had never experienced before.
"Well, for one…" He chuckled. "As limiting as it is to be sealed inside this mirror, it also makes for a unique perspective on what it means to live."
You let out an amused laugh. "You mean living vicariously through me, as well as all the past owners of this mirror?"
"Precisely. Each owner of this mirror was unique, as was the path they eventually came to tread, whether it leads to fulfillment or their demise. I attempted to be impartial by simply answering their questions to the best of my knowledge, but eventually, a stone heart is a heart nonetheless." His soft gaze fell on you. "As you've probably guessed, there were times when that passivity cracked."
"Like when you first appeared to me."
Zhongli nodded. "I have witnessed many tears being shed in my years, for reasons as countless as the stars. You resonated with me in a way that I could not bear to stand and merely watch."
If he were still in Teyvat and he was still the Geo Archon, he would've perhaps granted you a vision in order to help you achieve your goals, which seemed so daunting to you at the time. Without the authority to hand out visions, he could only help you in the only remaining way he could, by intervening on your life. Once that curtain was open, he could no longer hide from you.
"I wasn't actually expecting you to answer." You confessed. "All the rumors about this mirror being enchanted were just stories old maids used to tell me when I was a kid."
This mirror had been in your family for generations, taken possession of when your ancestor took over the throne from the previous royal family. It's hard to imagine how many generations of royals Zhongli must've counseled before he resigned himself to silence.
If you had known what you had just learned about him, would you have still chosen to give him your heart? As you looked into Zhongli's eyes, you sighed, finding your answer in the calm depths of those amber pools. They say eyes are the windows to the soul. You disagreed, they simply reflected what one was seeing and experiencing at a particular moment in time, much like the mirror Zhongli was trapped inside. At this very moment, he saw only you. His eyes gilded you in molten gold, imortalizing your fleeting existence into his memories. What more could you ask for in a lover? You did not need to permeate his entire existence and neither did he have to be your beginning and end.
You felt a surge of rekindled assurance from the fact that Zhongli had chosen to reveal himself to you. That moment had been a pivotal point in your life, changing everything from your views on destiny to your choice of marriage candidate. He had made many wishful things into tangible reality for you. With Zhongli by your side, you felt like you could face anything this world could possibly fling at you. He was your closest confidant, the person you spilled your sorrows and joys in front of, the keeper of your heart. You would never regret meeting him as a friend, neither would you regret falling for him as a lover.
"We have certainly come a long way from that." Zhongli chuckled. "I must admit, I have not experienced such closeness with someone ever since I've resigned myself to this mirror."
"Do you miss it?" You asked, further closing the distance between yourself and the mirror's surface. "The ability to interact with the world outside? To be able to smell the roses, taste the rain, and touch…"
Your words trailed into a whisper as a memory you revisited far too often resurfaced in your mind. It was filled with unbridled lust, soft gasps, and breathless moans. The night of your wedding was also the sole time Zhongli used his powers to conjure the semblance of touch for you. That illusion he manifested on the mirror was so convincing, if felt like he really was there, right behind you, touching you and pleasuring you in a way a lover could.
"That night…" You swallowed, voice threaded with uncertainty as you began. "Were you really able to touch me? Or was it just an illusion?"
Zhongli's eyes widened, surprised that you'd so casually bring up that night. It was the day his relationship with you had irrevocably changed. Although you embraced him as a lover, the both of you understood that your relationship could never reach the intimacy that others could, simply because of the thresholds he could not cross. He could not bring you physical intimacy, could not even truly touch you, much less kiss you.
With an apologetic sigh, he shook his head. "What you felt was not truly me. I too long to feel the softness of your skin, press my lips against your warm cheeks, and bring you pleasure with the touch of my hand, but alas, I cannot."
"No, you can. It wasn't just the tonic." You immediately shut down his absurd claims.
If you were so hung up on his limitations, you would not have chosen him amidst all the princes and young lords you could have given your heart to. Zhongli could never hold you in his arms, but you didn't need that. The way his eyes spill over with adoration everytime he calls you his darling or his princess was enough for you. There may be a perpetual barrier between him and you, but your hearts were inseparable.
As if you were trying to make a childish point, you leaned up against the mirror and pressed your lips against it. Zhongli let out an endeared sigh, surrendering to your antics. This was the second time you kissed him, if this could even be considered a kiss.
"Darling, the things I'd do to you if I could…" Zhongli uttered breathlessly when you finally pulled away from the mirror. "Perhaps it's better this way. I would not be able to hold myself back…"
"Show me, Zhongli." You demanded. "I want to know how you'd have your way with me if it were possible. Maybe I'd like it."
As intended, Zhongli sucked in a sharp breath at your unhinged words. His eyes darkened, intense pools of amber rippling with thoughts you so easily tempted to the surface.
"My sweet princess, you're asking for more than you can handle. Are you truly sure that is what you want?"
"Even if I can't ever have you, I want to see what it's like." You said, eyes unwavering as your hands reached up to tug at the bow at the back of your neck.
"Allow me, sweetheart." Zhongli's velvet baritone stroked your ear as he disappeared from the mirror and reappeared behind your reflection.
A glimmering thread of golden dust untied the drawstring that held your bodice up. As soon as it loosened, it slid to your waist. He tugged on the second string around your waist, causing your satin dress to glide down your hips and pool around your ankles. The piece of lace between your legs also met the same fate.
In the mirror, Zhongli gathered your hair to one side, feathering his lips against your neck and shoulders. He finally settled against a patch of tender skin, drawing it between his lips. When he released it, a tiny bruise was left behind. You wondered if it was just in the mirror or if Zhongli had truly managed to leave such a mark on your body.
You drew in an shallow breath when you felt his hands wrap around you from behind to fondle your exposed chest. His gloved hands splayed to accommodate your soft globes, kneading them until they almost spill from between his fingers. He pinched and rolled your sensitive peaks between his fingers, tugging sounds from your lips that you'd be ashamed to be caught making if someone were to barge in unsummoned. It wasn't long until one of his hands ventured past your belly, reaching in between your shaking legs to swipe against your drenched folds. You let out a needy moan as he played with your sensitive clit.
"My sweet princess, already unable to handle the pleasure, hmm?" Zhongli's voice drifted into your flushed ear, causing heat to pool between your legs. "Place your hand against the mirror, dear. We can't have you collapsing so soon."
You did as told, flattening a palm against the smooth surface. Staying upright had become an unexpected challenge as he continued to splurge your body with intense sensations you had never experienced before. Long fingers sunk into your soaked cunt. You could feel his fingertips curling and dragging against your sensitive walls.
"Zhongli…" You gasped as he stuffed another gloved finger into your tight hole.
"Do you see yourself, my dear? See how well you take my fingers?"
Your gaze dropped to your glistening cunt. The squelching sound filling your ears and the sight of his long fingers plunging in and out of you had you trembling even more. You could feel his warm breath fanning against your neck, as if the mirror in front of you was truly reflecting reality.
"Please, Zhongli…" You begged, for what, you could only leave it up to Zhongli to decide. Anything he could give you, you'd take.
Zhongli sucked in an unsteady breath. Your breathless plea was like a siren's song, rendering him captive to your whims. Whatever you wished, he could only grant. The golden dust gathered around your hips swirled at an even faster rhythm. He increased the flow. Your whimpers turned into soft moans. Imagining your sweet cunt coating his gloved fingers in slick was pure sin. He was no saint. How could he possibly be unaffected while showing you such an illusion?
He hastily unfastened his belt and unbuttoned his pants, reaching in to pull out his hardened cock. Seeing you trembling against this mirror, so delirious with need, he wanted nothing but to pin you to that bed behind you and take you repeatedly, fill that greedy hole of yours until it was thoroughly satiated. He stroked himself with one hand as he held up the other, a stream of golden dust flowing unbroken between the two of you. He was unable to feel the tightness and warmth of you wrapped around his fingers, but the lovely sight you provided was enough to stir up this ancient god's lust.
"Are you ready for more, my sweet?" He panted, a feverish flush spreading over his own cheeks as he stroked himself.
You nodded, hand gripping the edge of the frame tightly as your body threatened to cave from the pleasure.
"Take me…" You managed to say between moans. "Zhongli… I want…"
"Oh, my darling…"
He took one look at you and his heart clenched. You had never looked so depraved, nothing like that proud, dignified princess he was so accustomed to.
"Can you handle what you're asking for?"
"I can." You begged him. "Please…"
Zhongli groaned, resting his forehead against the barrier. He too wanted to see how you'd take his cock. How would your beautiful face contort as he pushes his way into you? What kind of expression would you make as he brings you over the edge?
"As you wish then, my princess." He relented, increasing the flow of golden particles.
The very air around your body pulsated, engorged with his power. Your quivering knees parted as you felt Zhongli's hands on your hips. Something slotted between your legs as you arched your back. Your lips fell open when you finally saw it on the mirror. He was massive, thick with bulging veins running along its length. How would he even fit inside you? You should've expected no less from a god, but it wasn't like Zhongli was that kind of god. The moment you saw his cock, all his warnings and hesitance became reasonable, but they were still not enough to dissuade you. You were determined to take whatever he gives you.
"Tell me if it hurts, dear." He gently reminded you.
You could see him, feel him pushing his fat tip through your glistening opening. It felt so real, so good, even the burn of the stretch had you keening with pleasure, eager for the rest.
"More, Zhongli…" Your breathlessly utter as your fluttering walls struggle to accommodate the manifestation of his cock.
"Patience, my dear." He panted, feeding you another inch as he palms himself desperately. "You're trembling. Is it too much?"
You shook your head impatiently. "I need all of it."
"And you shall have it. Now relax, darling. You're doing so well." He praised you as he finally gave you what you've been begging for.
In the mirror, the god sinks his thick shaft into you. You could see his entire length buried inside your cunt, filling you to the brim as his eyes glazed over with ecstasy. He allowed you to adjust, a moment of stillness before he unleashes an avalanche on you. His thrusts penetrate your slicked walls over and over, restraint worn thin with every stroke.
"So full…" You gasped.
"I know, dear. Does it feel good?" He asks you as he pleasures himself simultaneously.
You nod. "Zhongli…"
His name spills from your lips like honey as something thick drags against your fluttering walls.
"Perfect."
Zhongli groans, eyes drinking in your lovely expression. He had never seen a more beautiful face, a more enticing body. What would he give at this moment to truly feel you clenching around his throbbing cock?
He shutters as your moans fill the air. Your quivering lips let out such sweet sounds, he longed taste them with his own, yet he could only imagine it. In the mirror, he tilted your chin over your shoulder, sealing your lips in a long kiss that left you breathless. Your eyes were tightly shut, completely immersed in the illusion the man in the mirror had meticulously crafted for you.
Slick coated your inner thighs, dripping down your leg, mixing with a few inconspicuous drops of blood. Even though he had not laid a finger on you, he had indeed taken your first night as you so earnestly requested.
As Zhongli brought you to the edge, your body tensing and your toes curling, you managed to catch a glimpse of his handsome face contorted with pleasure. You could've sworn you felt the rush of warm cum flooding your womb as he came with you. How, you couldn't possibly know. When he pulled out, it was like he had taken a piece of your soul with him. You let out a last moan, face still flushed and heart still racing. Your own hands clutched the edges of the frame to remain steady while his withdrew from your waist. The surface rippled as he disappeared from behind you.
Unbeknownst to you, Zhongli held his spent cock in his hand, tip dripping with the remnant of his load. The splatters of cum on the ground between his polished shoes should be as much a sobering sight as the wet mess between your legs, but neither of you were ready to move on from the intensity of the encounter. You panted softly against the mirror, body seemingly drained of all strength. Zhongli tidied up his appearance and revealed himself once more in the mirror. He reached up to press his palm against the barrier, where your cheek was. His eyes tore away from your parched lips to scan the room, landing on a pitcher atop a table. A tendril of golden dust curled around the handle, lifting it up and tilting the spout over a cup, filling it with water. It drifted over, floating beside you.
"Drink, my dear." Zhongli ordered, voice like a soothing balm.
You gulped down the water, taking a seat at the end of the bed.
"Get some rest now."
You cleaned yourself up and pulled your nightgown back on, slipping into your bed. If you had ever doubted your lover's capability to fulfill you, those doubts were now banished to the furthest corners of your mind. You just wished you could do the same for him, fulfill him the way he had just done for you.
Perhaps in your dreams, you could do everything you've ever imagined with Zhongli. Kissing him, embracing him, pleasuring him in every way imaginable, there were no limitations in that world. He could take you as he pleased, fill you as many times as he desired, and you would lie against his chest when he was finally spent, interlocked like pieces of the same puzzle. He would plant a doting kiss against your forehead as he savors the feel of your warmth against his body. Such an inevitable wish between lovers would forever remain unfulfilled for you.
This thin barrier between you and Zhongli would always fuel an unquenchable desire in you. You could already see yourself, in all your future reflections, gazing longingly at him, your unobtainable lover. There would never be something or someone you'd ever want as badly as Zhongli. Perhaps this was a curse placed on you the night you uttered your wish to an enchanted mirror. In a sense, Zhongli had become your demon and by granting you your wish, he had indirectly bound your fates in an unspoken contract and collected your soul as payment. You would forever be his and he would belong to you for as long as you lived. As long as he continued gazing back at you from the other side of this mirror with such undiluted affection, who could make the distinction between a curse and a blessing? Bitterness, sweetness, and saltiness stirred together in your heart and seeped out from the corner of your eyes as you drifted off.
If he was your curse, then so be it. How could you ever regret uttering that wish against his enchanted mirror when all the harm he had ever done was make your dreams come true?
Zhongli x Reader / NSFW / Modern AU / Reader is a camgirl / Consensual Voyeurism and Exhibitionism / Zhongli is reader's landlord and sort of her roommate / Power imbalance / Ambiguous age gap / Emotional avoidance and fear of attachment / Mentions of manipulation, blackmail, and parasocial dynamics / Don't worry, it's sweet at the end! / Word count 12K
You would've noticed someone standing at your door had you been less occupied with your chat. When you finally turned at the knock on your door, your eyes landed on the unexpected face of your landlord, whom you hadn't seen in almost half a year. Your heart might as well have stopped.
"Ahem… I did not mean to intrude." A deep voice pierced the silence.
Your chat went crazy. How could it not? The expression on your face changed three times in the span of a second. First was pleasant surprise, then panic, finally settling on a furious blush. Your chat was going a million miles an hour, demanding to know who had interrupted your stream. Wild guesses were thrown around. Some were close, others way off. Nobody got it right.
"Perhaps it would be best if you closed your door." The man at your doorway reminds you.
"Thanks. Can you please shut it for me?" You asked sheepishly.
The door clicked and you tried to resume the stream, but no matter what you tried, you were unable to get back into the right state of mind. Zhongli's sudden appearance had completely thrown you off your boat. All you could think about was him now.
You bit your lip in frustration as Zhongli's devastatingly handsome face resurfaced in your mind. When you first met your landlord in person, you instantly developed a crush on him. With the eloquent way he talked, you had expected someone well put together, but you didn't expect him to be this good-looking. It was just a pity he only graced your eyes once every few months, each stay limited to a fleeting week or so. He came and went, leaving you both thankful and disappointed. He would usually send you a short notice by text just before he lands, but you were streaming today and had been ignoring all your calls and messages.
You end the stream and drag your anxious self out of your room. To your horror, Zhongli steps out of his own room at the same time. His hair was still slightly wet, indicating he had just taken a shower. You awkwardly follow him into the living room, taking a seat as he fetches a pot of tea that had been brewing. He set down two cups and filled them, one for you and one for himself. Finally, he lowers himself into the adjacent seat, amber eyes falling on your flustered face while crossing his legs elegantly. He raised his cup to his lips, taking an unhurried sip. You felt like you had returned to your highschool days, sitting in the dean's office.
Zhongli was significantly older than you, so even if he doesn't intentionally intimidate you, you felt small in his presence. It didn't help that he had accidentally witnessed you doing such a scandalous act. The memory would probably scar him forever if you did not alleviate the tension right away.
"I'm sorry you had to see that!" You said all in one breath.
"Are you perhaps in need of money?"
"No!" You answered too quickly. "I mean yes, I originally started doing it for the money. This place isn't exactly cheap haha…" You laughed nervously. "I'm okay now."
Working a job like yours, you wouldn't normally be able to afford to rent a place like this alone, especially not with the rampant price hikes in the market right now. It was perfect, close to your workplace and located in a safe, guarded community. Best of all, your only roommate, who also happened to be the owner of the property, was never around. He only needed to keep one of the two rooms locked for when he happened to be in the city during business trips. To say you got used to his absence was an understatement. You often left doors wide open and walked around the house half-naked. Only during his brief stays did you behave yourself and keep up some semblance of decency.
"I apologize if I came off judgemental. That was not my intention. What you do to earn a living is not my concern, as long as you don't miss any of your monthly payments."
"So I'm not going to get evicted?"
Zhongli chuckled. "I do not believe you are breaching any of the terms stipulated in our lease, so why would you be?"
You let out a breath of relief.
"So how long have you been home?" You asked, not realizing how the question could imply other things.
He cleared his throat. "Half an hour."
Your eyes widened as a flush rose in your cheeks. He definitely heard more than he could stomach, or he wouldn't have come knocking.
If it weren't for your voice, he might've thought there was a stranger in his house. All those flirtatious interactions with your chat was a persona you put on for the camera. The person you presented yourself as was much bolder than how you were in real life, how Zhongli remembers you. You imagined how shocked he was, standing in front of your bedroom door, catching you shamelessly touching yourself while entertaining your audience. How long did he endure the sounds coming from your room before he got up to see what you were up to? Just how long had he been standing in front of your open door before he knocked?
Did he perhaps get a bit excited watching you entertain your thirsty viewers? Was that why he had to go get a shower? The poor gentleman. Maybe if it were anyone else, you'd take offense if they peeped, but him? If he gave you the chance to show him, you'd try to make all of his closeted fantasies come true too, no tips required.
You couldn't help but let your eyes wander. Zhongli had on a simple buttoned shirt and a pair of slacks. With that handsome face, tall frame, and lithe body, he was already blessed in looks, but now you wondered if he was well endowed down there too. How could you not?
"I…I don't mind that you saw me. It was my fault for forgetting to close the door. Tell me if there's anything I can do to make things more comfortable while you're here. I only stream three days a week and for about two hours a time, but I can always adjust that if you need me to be quiet while you work. If you want, I can give you my schedule." You rambled on, unaware of how your words seem to encourage him to be present for those times rather than avoid them.
Zhongli smiled appreciatively at your efforts to accommodate him. This was not the first time he had seen you frazzled. The more flustered you were, the more you talked. The thought conjured up another sinful image in his head. He imagined you trying to talk, blabbering incoherently in between moans as he fingered your dripping cunt. How adorable would you look, spread out underneath him as he teased you?
Your sweet moans and sighs were what had drawn him to your door, but the pretty flush of your skin and the tantalizing curves of your naked body was what had rooted him there, staring like some depraved creep. He was not proud of his lapse in self-control, but at that moment, he was no different from anyone in your audience.
You sounded so eager to please, working so hard to satisfy those needy viewers of yours, but at the same time so overcome with need yourself. He felt sorry for you, but he had to reign in his presumptions. If you didn't enjoy the attention, you wouldn't have been so engrossed that you failed to notice him at your door earlier. How lucky it must be to be one of your viewers, to be able to see you up front and center, to be addressed so affectionately while you pleasured yourself to their demands.
"I would love to know your schedule." Zhongli's voice was deep and velvety as always. There was a heavy tinge of suggestiveness though, his reply twisting your words into an invitation that he was simply responding to.
Your face burned as you blurted out your schedule. In your head, it certainly sounds like you were now making plans for him to join you next stream.
Zhongli made a mental note of the hours you mentioned. He had no business to attend to during those times, so he would undoubtedly be home. There was no need to deliberately leave his own house just to avoid your streaming schedule. He was not some unrestrained teenager who couldn't handle a bit of temptation. Perhaps with repeated exposure, the both of you would find some way of dealing with the blushing elephant in the room.
"How is work treating you lately?" He asked you, genuine care emanating from his voice.
"I'm surviving." You replied vaguely at first, but realized that he's probably asking because he thinks you're struggling to come up with rent. "They gave me a small raise when I got promoted so I don't need to rely on this side hustle as much."
"That's wonderful." He nodded, his guilt dissipating a bit at your words.
If he had known just how much financial strain you were in, he would've kept the rent the same as the previous year when you renewed the lease with him. He doubted your family and friends knew what you did to make ends meet. As your landlord, he was directly responsible for the additional sum that lead you to take on this extra work. Perhaps you learned to derive some form of joy from it, but if the demand for money were not there, would you have even considered it?
"I have a proposal for you, one that you may very well refuse if it toes your boundaries too much. This is simply something I'm offering as an addition to what you're already doing, a means to lessen your financial burdens if you will." Zhongli begins, stern eyes locking with your curious ones. He sounded so pragmatic, it was like he was ready to whip out a printed contract and have you sign it right then and there.
"Let's hear it."
Zhongli was not someone who relished in squeezing every last drop of interest out of others simply because he could. As high as prices were in this neighborhood, the room you rented from him was a steal for all the perks included. You smiled, trusting him to come up with something that made sense and benefited both parties simultaneously.
"Allow me to sit in while you stream and I will pay you a fixed sum which I can either issue to you as a bank deposit or deduct from your payment this month. I will not speak nor make demands of you. Neither will I touch you or interact with you in any physical capacity as that would disrupt your work. Merely treat me as if I am not there. I will refrain from making any inappropriate actions without your explicit consent, including touching myself. If it comes to that, I will leave the room so as to not affect you."
Your brow went up, mostly from shock but also from pleasant surprise. His proposal was almost too good to be true. Sure, it was a bit out of your comfort, having a living breathing spectator in the room while you cam, but something about that person being Zhongli specifically made your heart race. An image of him sitting in that armchair at the corner of your room that was just out of your camera's frame surfaced in your mind. If it were someone else proposing this, you'd shoot them down immediately.
Drawing in a deep breath to give the impression of hesitation, you held his gaze. Inside, you had already made up your mind. He was giving you a blatant chance to seduce him, clueless to the unholy thoughts he effortlessly plants into your head. It was your chance to show him what he had gotten himself into, reel him in with your well-practiced charm and charisma, or fail miserably and end up begging him to fuck you instead. Would it really be a loss? Dignity be damned, at least you'll have crossed one thing off your do-or-die-regretting list. He just didn't know it yet and you were determined to keep that mask on until it melts off your face from the heat.
"How much exactly and how long?"
"However much you usually charge for private sessions. Are they usually priced by bid?" He asked you, obviously unfamiliar with the unspoken rules of the trade. "As for the duration of this proposal, I will only be here for two weeks this time, so we can set it to that."
You nodded. "My price differs from stream to stream. Sometimes it's a few hundred and sometimes it's a few thousand depending on the length of the call. It's not really comparable since I'm not actively interacting with you."
"I see." He stroked his chin in thought. "How about this instead."
He quickly calculated the difference between your monthly rent before and after the lease renewal, rounded it up and presented it to you. Six sessions total, it would help you out immensely in the next few months he'd be gone and he receives a front row seat to an indulgent performance that all your viewers would probably kill for.
"That works…" You agreed, voice going soft like a whisper as you wrapped your head around the fact that he'd be watching you the next time you streamed. "The price is a bit higher than I expected. I can throw in another perk for you."
Zhongli chuckled, smiling at how considerate you were being with him. He wondered if this was how you treated all your viewers who tipped you. Seeing how hard you pushed yourself earlier, he hoped the earnings you made were at least proportional to the demands you received, or else he would be inclined to sponsor you himself and save you from all the trouble dealing with hordes of entitled men who didn't even bother to pay you well for bending over backwards. He could easily imagine what kinds of disrespect you must tolerate everytime you streamed, needy viewers ordering you around like they owned you just because they tipped, the thoughts tugged at his protective nature. It was silly, he knew. You weren't some damsel crying for his help, so it was unwarranted of him to feel the need to shield you from that imagined harm.
Perhaps it had been too long since he had last been in a relationship. Why he was feeling these sentiments towards you, his tenant of all people? He had always found you attractive, drawn in by your subtle charms rather than your physical looks, but now his mind could no longer hold off those more illicit forms of admiration. Was it simply just the sight of you streaming earlier? Things had changed in that instant, like the ringing strike of a hammer against a chisel, cracking the smooth surface of the rock. He could no longer go back. The wall that stood between the two of you had already crumbled.
"You're not going to ask what that perk is?"
"I'm sure it would be worthwhile." Zhongli smiled.
"How about I let you pick out what I'm going to wear on stream? Unless someone tips and overrides it, of course. I have to honor tip redemptions…" You thought aloud.
"I look forward to perusing your wardrobe when the time comes."
"It's settled then?" You asked.
He nodded, smiling fondly at you. "I'll leave you be now. There's still some unpacking to be done." He excused himself, dragging his suitcase into his room with him.
That suitcase had been sitting in the living room this whole time, as if reminding you that he would only be here for a while before disappearing from your life yet again. Perhaps that was why you should keep your distance from him, especially your heart. It was fine being attracted to Zhongli, but anything deeper would be emotional recklessness. You'd be no more than a fling if things got out of hand, even if he never struck you as a player. It was just the inevitability of his departure, like clockwork every time. You knew better, at least that's what you wanted to believe.
When the next stream day came around, you sat at your desk adjusting your mic and lighting. You even printed out a silly little sign to place on the armchair in the corner. It read 'VIP GUEST' in big bold letters. Soon enough, you heard a soft knock on your door. Your special viewer arrived. He had just gotten home from lunch with his client. You had to admit, Zhongli looked absolutely ravishable in formal wear. Your thoughts drained down a predictable gutter. How satisfying would it be to remove all those layers one by one? Would he start tugging them off if you managed to get him hot and bothered enough? Alas, you were the one stripping for the camera, not him.
Zhongli took a seat in the chair, an amused smile on his lips as he picked up the place card. You went off to gather your outfit candidates for the stream. As promised, this was his choice to make.
"This one, this one, or this one for the lingerie?" You asked, holding them up against your chest in succession. "I'll be honest, sometimes my choices are misses rather than hits. Maybe your taste aligns better with my chat's."
"Is that so?" His brow raised in surprise. "Let's go with this one today, but I can imagine you'd look lovely in all three."
"I want to try different styles, but I think the majority of my viewers prefer a consistent look. I can tell with the viewer count and tips."
"Hmm…" He leaned back and stroked his chin in contemplation. "Perhaps there's an element of successful branding working against you in this. Once consumers of a product come to expect a certain thing from you, it would be hard to branch out. Straying from what's already been established can certainly be met with repulsion."
"Well, if they don't appreciate your taste, I guess they're out of luck." You laughed, putting away the two sets that were passed up.
Even though Zhongli had technically seen you naked already, you didn't want to kill the suspense by stripping and changing into the lingerie right in front of him.
Every stream, you had to dangle yourself like a carrot in front of viewers, drag it out until the tips start pouring in. You had it down to an art, teasing and toying with their imagination, making them work just as hard for their own satisfaction as you did for their wallets. It was a twisted game you played with your admirers, because you were simultaneously the prey and the predator. You fed them exactly what they wanted, but they only wanted what they can't easily get. They wanted to toy with you, make you jump through hoops for them, roll over and beg for treats like a circus animal, but if you catered to their every whim, the magic is instantly lost. They enjoyed competing over you, having you fluster over their shows of dedication as they out-tip each other for your attention. Sometimes you felt like an inanimate bystander, as if you were a covetted painting at an auction. Other times, you were the knockoff purse laying on a dirty tarp at a flea market. It all depended on how much these disembodied usernames were willing to throw at you. Even as your numbers climbed and the algorithm pushed you in front of more and more viewers, you never forgot how awful it felt to be the latter. It reminded you every stream to not lose yourself to the illusion of being that painting. You could go from one to the other at the blink of a viewer's eye.
It was just for the money, you tell yourself. You had to do what you had to do to keep this roof over your own head. It worked out in your favor and you didn't have to pack your bags even after the market phased this place out of your budget.
For the longest time, you had nobody to rely on but yourself. You couldn't reach out and ask your parents for money. They were already struggling to make ends meet themselves and never once asked you for help. You couldn't ask your friends for money, because you hated to taint your relationships with such worldly troubles. They gave you all the emotional support you could ever ask for so you could have the strength to deal with these pesky problems.
When Zhongli asked you if you were in need of money, your knee-jerk response was to deny it, but the relationship between the two of you was transactional to begin with, so you accepted his proposal without much hesitation.
As you greeted your excited chat, you couldn't help but steal a glance at him. How did things evolve into this strange arrangement? It feels like an absurd fever dream. Blaring alarms and obnoxious carnival music went off in your head. Buried underneath all that commotion was your own heartbeat, racing with anticipation.
Were you a friend to Zhongli? You didn't know him well enough, at least you didn't think so. Was he just your landlord? Not quite, since he was also your roommate from time to time and he definitely cared more for you than the usual landlord does their tenant. Could you trust him? It probably wasn't wise to since you weren't in the sanest mindset. He could easily turn this situation into blackmail and demand things you didn't initially agree on from you. Wasn't that how it usually goes down?
Too much hinged on Zhongli's character and you weren't dumb enough to expect altruism from him. He was a businessman and money flows where there is plenty of shade. Opportunists would always try to turn a profit at every chance. Could you really expect him to be the sole exception?
What does he gain from this exactly? You get money from him, a very practical thing. He doesn't even get to talk to you during your live, something that you indulged your viewers in for the entire duration of the stream. If he were an exhibitionist, maybe whipping out his cock and having you react to it would stroke his ego, but he explicitly cut out all possibility of that.
Your chat was starting to get impatient. An entire hour had passed and that lingerie set that Zhongli picked had not yet made an appearance. The viewer count fluctuated, but it didn't faze you. Your tip bar was the true indicator of how thirsty your viewers were. Once they started trickling in, you knew it was time to start the actual stream. All of the friendly banter was just a lengthy intro.
"Truth or Bare? You guys are really nosy today, aren't you?" You read the redeem that had just popped up on the screen.
The questions started rolling in, each one attached to a tip. A timer went off and you read the highest tipper's question aloud.
"Am I a virgin?" You sighed. The amount of times you had gotten this question was exhausting. You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes and pull on a puppy dog face instead. "How many times do I have to tell you guys? That question will never be answered. Unless you already know that and just want me to take something off…"
Your hand reached up to tug at your hair tie. This was a popular strip game you played with your viewers. It doesn't end until you're completely naked, so you always prepared for it. Jewelry and hair accessories counted, but you tried not to be too overt with it. You would always get a flood of compliments when you let your hair down, so starting the stream with your hair up created a little something for your viewers to look forward to, an appetizer of sorts.
"Am I single?" You read the next highest bidder's question after the timer went off again.
It was one of your regulars, who obviously already knew the answer to that question.
"I know you're just trying to give me an easy pass, so thanks."
Someone brought up the voice that interrupted you last stream and consequently ended it. Apparently your chat were not goldfishes, to your detriment. Once one person bit, they were all biting, all wanting answers. You watched in horror as your chat became consumed with theories again.
"I'm not lying! He's not my sugar daddy either okay? I'm not into that."
You had to fight the urge to turn and look at Zhongli, who you knew could hear every word that comes out of your lips.
"No, for the last time, I don't have a boyfriend. If you're so curious, you can bid for the next question."
You quickly shut down the overflowing questions before they got out of hand. Your mods also began timing people out for being annoying. The game went on.
"Do I like being eaten out?" You scrunched your nose. "I want to say it depends on the person and if they're good at it, but would you really say no to a blowjob? Not everyone has a giant cock, but everyone can eat pussy well. They just need to be willing to learn. If they're willing to do it, I think I'll enjoy it. Now if they're confident about it…" You giggled at the thought. "That's hot."
Who were you kidding? Everyone apparently. You talked as if you've sampled peak oral before and had a wealth of experience to draw from. In reality, you probably had as much as the dude in your chat who asked that question. It was all about the bluff.
"Pain tolerance?" You read the next tip winner's question after the timer went off. "I'm a chicken. No pain, at all. I'll bite you if you make it hurt. I like the gentle ones."
You received a few questions here and there that you refused to answer, so after removing your necklace, earrings, and socks, you finally had to take off some actual clothes. Your chat was high as a kite and the viewer count shot up.
"What was my first guy like? As in boyfriend, or like the first guy that managed to get me naked?" You tapped your chin as if you were really going to answer the question.
It could just be another angle at the first question you started the game off with, but you wanted to get confirmation first since the asker tipped quite a lot to win the bid. A sigh left your chest when it turned out your suspicions were right.
"That's for me know and for you to keep wondering." You tried to be sweet about it, giving the camera a wink. "Since you were so generous with the tip, you can decide if you want me to take off my shirt or my shorts."
You got your answer, shorts. Getting up off the bed, you stood up to unbutton the denim shorts you had on, making sure everything was in frame. Slowly, you unzipped it, making a little twirl for the camera before taking it off. At the corner of your eyes, you caught Zhongli with a smile on his lips, jaw resting against his hand. His posture was relaxed, legs crossed elegantly as if he were admiring something much more demure. The way he was looking at you made you feel like a ballerina on stage as opposed to a streamer playing a stripping game with her chat.
The next question was an easy one, but the one after, you couldn't answer. You grabbed the bottom of your shirt and pulled it over your head, removing it in one fluid movement. Finally, you were in just your underwear.
Zhongli's eyes raked over your figure, smooth skin adorned in nothing but a few pieces of lacy fabric. The color suited you, contrasted nicely against your skin, just as he envisioned when you had him choose between the three sets. He could only see you from an angle, the best view reserved for your viewers. You couldn't even meet his eyes, but he enjoyed the discretion, being able to take you in as he pleased, watching you smile and laugh without sparing him a single glance.
You got up to grab something from your desk, finally rewarding his patience with a view that your entire chat had already been spoiled with. It was a fleeting glimpse, but it was enough to satiate that growing itch. You posessed an undeniably tantalizing figure, one that he never had the chance to properly admire until now. Watching that adorable, unassuming shell of yours stripped all the way down to lingerie like this was a delightful treat.
Last time, Zhongli had walked in on a stranger with your face and voice. This time, he saw your transformation. He could never have imagined you in this way before. Ever since two days ago, he could not get that racy image out of his mind. Those two conflicting versions of you overlapping in his mind did something to his body.
He was not the only one whose attention you commanded, cock straining against the fabric of his pants. Countless nameless, faceless strangers were also lusting after you, some he could imagine already desperately stroking themselves at the sight of your pretty tits encased in lace.
More questions came. You reached behind your back to unhook your bra. Zhongli drew in a breath. The lacy garment was discarded on your bed. Next went your panties, which you took your time removing. You climbed off the bed, getting up close to the camera so that it could capture what you needed it to. As requested by your chat, you did a spin, catching Zhongli's eyes as you turned your back to the screen. A flush rose in your cheeks as he drank in the view, caressing your luscious mounds from afar with nothing more than his smoldering gaze. His amber eyes seemed to melt you with their intensity as they glided down your body, settling on the remaining piece of fabric. No words were exchanged as agreed, but you didn't need them. Your fingers hooked underneath the waistband, sliding your panties over your hips.
You broke eye contact, turning to face the camera again, but then immediately bent over to pick up the lace garment dangling around your ankles. Zhongli shifted in his chair, fingers sinking into the plush armrest. His bulge was painfully visible now.
You had just presented your VIP guest with a gratuitous view of your unadorned ass, before all your other viewers. Were you feeling sorry for making him wait until last? He could tell it was intentional. His mind was instantly clouded by wanton thoughts of squeezing and groping those soft globes, perhaps adding a pink handprint or two to them even. Had you always been this cheeky?
At last, thoughts were only thoughts. He couldn't act on them. The tie around his neck was starting to feel tight, so he tugged it loose and unfastened the first two buttons. It helped, but only barely. This was all the relief he'd be getting while sitting in your room. Touching himself was strictly against the terms laid down.
You began playing with your tits, probably a request by your chat. Even from the side, he could see the way they almost spilled between your fingers as you kneaded them. Your lips parted to let out soft moans as you pinched and rolled your nipples between your fingers. The sweet sounds sent shivers down his spine. His cock twitched as you let out another moan, this time louder. One of your hands were now buried between your legs while the other continued massaging you breast. Zhongli couldn't see what you were doing, but he could imagine it. Your finger sunk between your pink folds, stroking your sensitive walls as your lips parted to let out those wispy moans. Your camera gave everyone in your stream an indulgent view of your pussy, getting wetter and messier everytime you pulled your slick-coated finger out. One finger was hardly enough, so you added another, fingertips curling and dragging along your sensitive walls. The moans drifting from your lips turned into soft whines, then whimpers. The expression on your face must be divine, if only he could see it. That was reserved for your stream.
He watched as you reached for the object you had grabbed from your desk earlier, a toy apparently. He couldn't tell what it was initially, because it didn't look like one at first glance. He had to admit, it was rather tastefully designed, discreet like you were. You pulled off the cap, holding the silicone tip flush against your dripping heat. You pressed the button and the vibrations started, immediately making you jolt with pleasure. Gently, you pushed it in.
Zhongli's clenched his fist, adverting his gaze. Your decadent moans still reached his ears, causing his breath to grow shallow. His jaw was taunt, muscles tensed. You sounded almost tortured, probably looked the part too. Your camera captured everything, but he could only imagine your pretty face, contorted with ecstasy as you chased your orgasm. His cock was so unbearably hard, the leaking tip dug into the seams of his dress pants.
You came undone, walls fluttering around the toy as your orgasm finally came and swept you away. Sweat coated your neck and your chest heaved, heart still racing as the ripples subsided. You laid there, back against your sheets and legs parted so that the camera could catch the mess you made of yourself. When your senses returned, you glanced over at the corner of the room where your armchair sat. It was now empty. You didn't even notice when Zhongli had gotten up and left the room.
After cleaning yourself up and winding down with your chat, you finally ended the stream. Everybody got what they showed up for, but at the same time nobody was satisfied. You managed to get yourself off, but what about Zhongli? If he was fine, he wouldn't have walked off before the stream ended. Did you really manage to make him lose his patience?
Zhongli had no doubt gone to take a shower. You could hear the water hitting the bathroom tiles from the hallway. You wondered what he thought about the arrangement now that he had a taste of it. What could be going through his mind right now? Would he still want to continue?
You didn't get to see the state he was in before he left. Did he leave because he got uncomfortable, or did he get that turned on? The possibility of it being the latter gave you an unexpected headache. This was technically his proposal. If he couldn't handle the very terms he came up with, he'd have to persuade you to loosen them up. While your rational side would shoot that thought down immediately, your impulsive side welcomed it too eagerly.
You liked this house a lot, but nobody could deny you had the hots for its owner too. If you sleep with him, chances were, you'd probably have to leave as soon as your lease ends. There's just no way you're getting into a relationship with your landlord, especially one that involves a lot of fucking around and not much of anything else. He'd be leaving in less than two weeks, leaving you scrambling to make sense of whatever loose ends he leaves in his wake. Repeat that every time he comes back and any sane person would become an emotional wreck. You wanted to fuck him badly, but it would literally ruin your life if you did. There's no way you'd let those intrusive thoughts be anything more than a self-indulgent joke.
When you joined Zhongli in the living room later that evening, the two of you pretended nothing ever happened. Nobody brought it up like the two of you had mutually decided to get amnesia about those two hours in your room today. You asked him if he was hungry. He offered to cook so you let him.
An amused smile crept into your lips as you rested your arms on the backrest of the couch, watching Zhongli chop and dice vegetables. This was pretty much your house, since he was only around a couple weeks in the year. The apron around his neck was yours, but you couldn't help but find it adorable on him too, in a mismatched way. This was not the first time he's cooked for you. You were already aware that he was a good cook when you first moved in. He had treated you to a homecooked meal, complete with soup and side dishes.
If your mom found out you know a handsome, single guy who cooks good food, she'd order you to seduce him and lock him down. If she knew he owned the house you lived in, she'd already be banging down your door. You couldn't possibly tell her.
Zhongli was the kind of gentleman old people always want to introduce their daughters and granddaughters to. Honestly, it could all just be a front. You can't exactly say you knew him well enough to vouch for him. All you really know about him was that he's unmarried, owns the house you live in, does business all over Liyue, is a good cook, loves reading, hates seafood, gets along with birds and little animals, and is very old-fashioned when it comes to certain things.
You only go into Zhongli's room once in a while to help him dust off his shelves when he's gone. As curious as you are about him, you respected him way too much to go snooping around. Likewise, he doesn't overstep boundaries and seemed to operate on a strict set of self-inflicted rules, on top of being away for most of the year, so you never really had to deal with the usual roommate drama that your coworkers always seem to be complaining about. Life was good, aside from the rising rent, but that wasn't really Zhongli's fault. Was it too much to wish for life to go on like this forever?
Once dinner was ready, you helped set the table and sat down opposite of him. It always felt more like a home when Zhongli was around. You ate alone most of the time, consuming mostly takeout on workdays whenever you didn't have the time nor energy to cook yourself a decent meal.
"This reminds me of my mom's bamboo shoot soup."
Zhongli chuckles. "Perhaps there's similarities in our recipes."
"It's not really the taste." You shook your head.
"I see. It must be nostalgia then."
"Yes! I swear, there's a taste to it." You beamed at him while enthusiastically helping yourself to the yummy stuff.
There's nothing quite like the satisfaction you feel when the person you're talking to puts what you're struggling to say into words.
"You should invite her to come visit you."
"She's too comfortable in Qingce Village. The big city isn't for her. She says all the honking cars give her a headache."
Besides, it wasn't like this was your house. You just rent a room in it. Where would she sleep and keep the mountain of stuff she'd most likely show up with? Better to pay her a visit when you get time off from work than have her visit you.
"A pity. It would be nice to meet her."
"Zhongli!" You almost spat out the mouthful of soup in your mouth. "You can't say things like that! I know you're good with the old ladies, but if my mom sees you, she'll think we're an item."
"Hmm…" He hummed, his expression unreadable. "You could just tell her the truth. Surely she can't be as unreasonable as you say."
"You don't know her like I do. I'm just protecting you." You said with a full chest.
He laughed heartily, his amusement infecting you and causing you to break out in laughter as well. Since you had just swallowed a spoonful of soup, it went down the wrong pipe. You coughed repeatedly while Zhongli got up to get you tissues and pat your back.
"There there. I should not have laughed." He said while patting your lips dry with a napkin. You tried to snatch it from him but failed.
"You know, I wouldn't get nostalgia from your cooking if you're just around more. It's been too long since I've had soup this good."
"Would you mind if I stayed?" Zhongli asked you.
Your brow went up as you glanced over at him.
"This is your house, Zhongli, not mines. Why are you asking me? You can stay for as long as you want." You said with a laugh, obviously not following his train of thought.
Zhongli's sighed, amber eyes studying your face. Were you really this oblivious or were you just pretending to not understand his intentions?
"Would you like for me to stay?"
You froze upon hearing Zhongli repeat the question. Something was off about the way he worded it this time. Why does it sound so… suggestive? Like something a one-night-stand would only ask if they were entertaining the possibility of becoming something more. You swallowed, face heating up all of a sudden. Were you overthinking? The last time you checked, you haven't slept with Zhongli yet. Why was he talking like the two of you have already crossed some invisible line?
"If I say yes, could you?" You asked cautiously.
"I can make it happen, if that's what you want." He replied, equally as carefully.
"Then stay."
As soon as you let those two words roll off your tongue, you held your breath. Your heart felt like it was going to burst with how hard and fast it was beating.
A glimmer of something faint in his eyes grew brighter the instant your words met his ear. It almost gave you the impression that he had been waiting to hear them.
"I will make arrangements to extend my stay here for another two weeks."
"Wait!" You quickly blurted before your head grew so big and light, it floats away. "You're really going to stay longer, just for me?"
You pinched yourself underneath the table. Nope, this wasn't you hallucinating or daydreaming. On the surface, you were all smiles, but inside, you were a nervous pile of knots.
He nodded, a reassuring smile on his lips. "My calendar is more flexible than you may think. Another two weeks will not disrupt my work."
Zhongli explained to you once that an operating partner was just a fancy title for a business consultant. He spends anywhere from weeks to a month in a single place, monitoring various companies he's contracted with. From what he just disclosed, apparently it was entirely up to him to decide how much time to allocate to each venture he oversees. Most of the correspondence, reports and whatnot, could be done without his physical presence. He did not even require an office, but a place to stay was still needed. The house you lived in served as one of his many footholds. You wondered if he had tenants renting his other properties. Did he treat them all to slow-cooked bamboo shoot soup, or were you the only one with that perk?
You were still reeling from the fact that Zhongli had just rearranged his entire schedule this month, all because you told him you wanted to see him around more often. Since when did you hold so much influence over him? Even if your viewers regularly shower you with attention, you never let their thirst get to your head. Likewise, you had always kept a conscious distance from your landlord, as irresistible as you found him.
Now that you think about it, Zhongli certainly seemed to be the one making any effort to bridge this deliberate gap you had put in place. He was always sharing interesting stories about the places he's been and bringing you little souvenirs. You've always found him to be odd in that regard. Most landlords wouldn't even bother to get to know their tenants, since the only thing that truly mattered was getting paid on time. Getting too acquainted opened up the possibility of exceptions to that, which Zhongli had already shown he did not mind when it comes to you. You had paid your rent late multiple times in the past. He never threatened to evict you nor did you receive any stern warnings from him. It's almost like it was an afterthought to him. Still, the transactional premise of your relationship always managed to hold a firm grip on you. Now, that grip was slipping and so was your rationality.
The next streaming day, Zhongli took his seat on your armchair while you set up your equipment. Like before, you let him pick your outfit. There was something so undeniably wrong with this whole situation, this debauched contract that you had somehow agreed to. So many alarms should be going off, but they were all muted.
This was something you would never have seen yourself agreeing to when you first signed that lease with him. It was bizarre beyond anything you had the audacity to imagine. This was someone whose belongings you wouldn't even dare peek into while he was away. This someone was now watching you shamelessly touch yourself in front of a camera.
You tried your best to ignore how Zhongli's mere presence in the room affected you. Even if he didn't say a word, you couldn't help the tingle that ghosts over your skin everytime you catch his gaze. Did he find the sight of you in the bra and panties he chose arousing? When your hands glide over your skin, carressing your body, does he wish they were his instead?
Like the last time, you see him get up and leave. He doesn't make eye contact and you try to act natural in front of the camera even though your mind was no longer in the room with your chat. Slick dripped down your thigh, mixing with the lubricant you had coated your toy with. You bit your lip, riding the pitiful thing, whimpers and sealed moans captured by your microphone.
This time, you managed to catch a glimpse of Zhongli as he stood up. You got an answer to that burning question that had been eating you up inside since the last stream. The tent in his pants ruined his facade. It told you everything you had been dying to know.
You ended the live shortly, mind filled to the brim with Zhongli. So this attraction you've always felt was not unique to you anymore. Do you pretend you don't know how hard you could make him, ignore how badly he wants to fuck you after seeing you touch yourself?
Unlike the last two streams, there was no sound of water coming from his room. You imagined Zhongli barely making it to the privacy of his own room without yanking his belt off. What if he couldn't hold himself back, instead giving into the impulse? You envisioned him palming himself desperately to the thought of you, thighs clenching at the self-indulgent images clouding your mind.
"Zhongli?" Your voice drifted through the gap, barely above a whisper.
Despite your better judgement, you pushed the door open some more. It was dimmed inside so you couldn't make out where Zhongli was.
Had he been in so much of a hurry, he forgot to close it, or did he leave his door open like this on purpose? Suddenly, the door flung open all the way. Your eyes shot upward, meeting Zhongli's as he came to the door.
"You ought to get some rest, dear. What are you doing here instead?" He asked you, amusement threading his voice.
"You left before I finished streaming, so I just…"
Like he asked, just what exactly are you doing here? Were you here to confront him about that raging hard-on you saw him leave your room with? Your gaze discreetly fell to his crouch. It seemed he had yet to resolve his dilemma.
The indecent thoughts running amok inside your head made for a very curious expression. His eyes swept over your face, then down your body. Upon ending the stream, you had put all your clothes back on, but under Zhongli's smoldering gaze, it was like he had you undressed again with a mere glance.
"My apologies for the sudden exit. Was there something you needed from me?" He smiled at you harmlessly, but the effects were anything but. Either he really didn't notice the blush on your face or he was pretending.
"That's what I came here to ask." You deflected, growing increasingly frustrated with his unyielding demeanor. Even with an obvious tent in his pants, this man wasn't making a single move on you. "Are you sure you want to keep playing the gentleman?"
"Ah, so you do see the affect you have on me." He chuckled.
"I'd be blind if I didn't."
"Ignorance can often be a blissful disposition. At least for you, I believe it to be so."
"Sit down." You ordered him in a tone far too intimate than what you ought to sound like with him. "I'll help you get it down."
"I assure you, there's no need to do any favors for me that are not included in our agreement." He immediately turned down your scandalous offer, a rare tremble in his voice.
"Was cooking for me and bringing me gifts part of our lease?" You asked as you took a step forward, forcing Zhongli to take a step back.
If he continued, you'd have him sitting at the edge of his bed anyways, so you just kept walking, unhurried and intentional. His body was not rejecting your offer the way his lips were. Dealing with a well-intentioned hypocrite like Zhongli, you just had to give him what he wanted and his front would crumble under the weight of his own contradicting desire.
"Ever since you saw me the first time, you've wanted me, haven't you?" You began your lewd accusations, raising your hand to his chest to prod him with a haughty finger. "You couldn't resist making that proposal, knowing exactly how inappropriate it'd be. Now look at yourself. You can barely keep it together. Sit before I change my mind and leave you high and dry."
"Hmm." He hummed, not sounding at all offended. "It seems you have me all figured out already."
Something glinted in Zhongli's eyes before he wrapped his hands around your wrist, gently tugging you into his lap as he sat down at the edge of his bed. This was what you demanded. Except why did it feel like the roles had suddenly reversed? The moment he admitted you were right and he was entirely at your mercy, Zhongli had successfully coaxed you into a false sense of control, an illusion of power.
You sucked in a sharp breath as his hardened length slotted between your legs. The fabric of his pants did little to mask the swollen girth of his cock and neither was it enough to keep the wetness clinging to your heat from seeping through.
"May I remove your clothes?" He asked, still hesitant to discard his manners. You appreciated this immensely, found it unbelievably hot. Or probably it was just him. Everything he did and said seemed to effortlessly turn you on.
His hands reached out to lift your shirt from your body as soon as you gave him permission. Then it was your skirt. You climbed off his lap to allow him to undress you. Soon, you were in nothing but the set of lingerie he had picked before your stream. His eyes raked over you form unabashed, silently marveling at how well the material and color complimented you.
"You like it, don't you? Dressing me up and stripping me down like your personal plaything…" You whispered into Zhongli's ear as you lowered yourself back into his lap. "They have no idea that you're in the room, sitting there just outside of the camera. Neither will they ever know what we're doing right now, after the stream. They can only see, but you…" You smirked at him. "I'll let you touch me if you promise to be good."
"How unfair of you. Though I'm not complaining since I do enjoy watching you pleasure yourself. What better than to inflict such sensations on you myself?" He mused, hands unapologetically gliding over your soft skin, which he had previously been unable to touch. It was as silky as he imagined it to be. He drew in a breath, taking note of your every minute reaction to his touch.
How long had he been yearning for this? He couldn't even recall anymore. Perhaps it was a good thing, being away so often. He would've been that much more tormented by your enticing presence had he been around as often as you would've liked. How he managed to keep his hands off you this entire time and his gentlemanly impression intact, he couldn't fathom, but he was glad you were finally ready to accept the possibility that he might want more from you than your monthly rent.
There was also so much more he wanted to give you, but he never found a suitable excuse, nor possessed the appropriate role to approach you in that manner. The last thing he would want was to scare you and have you scurrying off like a spooked mouse. Zhongli was your landlord afterall. By default, you had so little power. He wanted desperately to even out this imbalance, but as long as this dynamic existed, he was powerless to change anything. That was the reality of your relationship with him, until that day he came home to find you camming.
That catalytic moment had altered something within him, along with his perception of you. He suddenly found himself spiraling. The proposal, though not entirely thought out at the time he offered it to you, was a desperate attempt to ground himself again amidst the bizarre circumstances. Just when he thought he was regaining his bearings, you come into his room to offer an even more preposterous proposal, sending him on yet another unpredictable tangent. Perhaps that was what you've always been to him, an agent of chaos, but he could only welcome it, along with everything you came with.
"Zhongli…" You called out his name breathlessly. "I know you like seeing me in these, since you picked them out, but don't you—"
"Shh.. " He silenced you. "You're much too impatient, dear. If I can wait this long for you to come to me, I can spare a couple minutes to admire you in such tasteful lingerie."
You blushed at his words, failing to catch the veiled confession he slipped in due to the pink fog clouding your mind. He let out a sigh as his lips feathered along your shoulder, igniting goosebumps in his wake. Finally his fingers reached behind your back for the clasp of your bra, unhooking it. You drew in an anxious breath, knowing where his hands were going to venture next.
His fingers splayed over your breast, cupping it gently in his large hand. Soft moans drifted from your lips as he proceeded to knead it, squeezing the supple flesh between his fingers and playing with the sensitive peak.
"Can I kiss you?" You asked him, arms draping over his shoulders.
Zhongli chuckled. "I thought you didn't want to."
"You think too much." You scrunched your nose playfully, pulling him in to press your lips against his.
You couldn't blame him for assuming though. If you wanted to kiss, it would've happened before he ever asked to take off your clothes and it'd have to be initiated by you, according to his exasperating list of unspoken rules. A kiss was something he had not yet been given access to, so you'd have to lead him to it. This was something you'd gradually realize as the two of you become increasingly entangled with each other. It was not a subconscious habit, but a deliberate one. He was a patient man, you've always known this. It's just sometimes, that patience can get a little inconvenient for you.
"I don't get it." You pulled away from his lips to catch your breath.
"What is it, dear?" He asked you calmly.
It wasn't that you were unsatisfied with the kiss. You just couldn't understand why Zhongli was taking his time like this when you were mentally prepared to take all the shortcuts the moment you made the offer to get him off.
"How are you so hard, but kissing me like you can wait another hour? Don't you want to fuck me?"
He smiled, reaching up to stroke your cheek. "Well, you're already in my lap. There's no need for urgency since we both have no reservations this evening. I do in fact have an hour to spare."
"If you want to hold it in, then hold it in. As long as you don't burst before I get a chance to put it in, I won't punish you." You teased him.
He swallowed thickly. "That I can promise."
You went in for another kiss, tongue pressing against his lips for entry. Zhongli gave it, enthusiastically meeting your demand for more. He welcomed your pillage, your curiosity, and all your audacity. It was an immeasurable delight, experiencing just how much you wanted him. You weren't putting on a performance nor trying to appease an audience to earn a living.
"I can't take it anymore." You tore away from the kiss again, panting from how turned on you were.
Zhongli's smoldering gaze followed your hands as you frantically unbuckled his belt and unfastened his dress pants. He didn't seem fazed by how rough you were being with the expensive material. Anticipation brimmed in his eyes as well. You finally pulled down his pants, freeing his erection. It sprung upright, tall and rigid. The daunting size of it instantly sobered your lust-ridden mind.
You swallowed at the sight as you wrapped your mind around his girth, wondering how it was going to even fit. The sight made you involuntarily clench your legs. Now that the fabric was out of his way, every drop of slick seeping out of your eager cunt landed directly on his shaft.
Were you really going to fuck Zhongli? No matter how unreal it feels, you could never really help the way your body reacts to him. Even while streaming to hundreds of thirsty strangers, you didn't feel like half the slut the sight of Zhongli's cock had you reduced to. If he told you to get on your knees right now and suck him off, you'd do it without a second thought.
You heard Zhongli's shuttered intake as you wrapped your hands around him. A feverish tint was beginning to take hold on his face and a haze fell over his eyes as you began to stroke him, your movements slow and unsure. He let out a soft groan, hand enveloping yours in encouragement as he moved your hands at a faster pace. His hands also caused you to place more pressure in your grip. You bit your lip in concentration, focusing on making him feel good. His cock throbbed under your sweet torment and his breath grew heavy. Beads of precum slid down from his tip.
"Need me to touch you?" He breathed, voice gravelly with arousal.
"Please…" You answered breathlessly.
It must be obvious how needy you were getting, with your soaked pussy rubbing against his thigh. The moment Zhongli's hand cupped your drenched entrance, you shuttered. His fingertips traced your slit, barely sinking in between the soft folds. You whimpered softly, grinding yourself against his hand. As deep chuckle caressed your ear as he finally plunged a finger into your cunt. Your slippery walls immediately clenched around it as he pumped in and out of your eager hole. He added a second finger, scissoring them inside the narrow space, stretching you in preparation for his cock.
"I think I'm ready." You panted against his neck. "Can I put it inside?"
"Be my guest, sweetheart." He replied, withdrawing his slick-coated fingers.
You lifted yourself up on your knees. Zhongli’s hands rested on your waist to help you align yourself with his tip. The second your warmth enveloped the head of his cock, he let out shuttered gasp. It felt way too good, the way your tight heat immediately clenched around him, drawing him in like a fever dream. Indeed, having you in his lap like this, taking his cock inch by greedy inch, it certainly resembles a dream he was guilty of having from time to time. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, as if afraid you'd suddenly run off and end it all too soon.
Zhongli thrusted upwards, his patience finally crumbling as he buried himself to the hilt inside your fluttering walls. You had never felt so full, so satisfied. Those toys you played with during stream? How were you ever going to get off on them after having a taste of this? It was no longer just your imagination, but the memory. The pleasure Zhongli was giving you was something you could see yourself coming back time and time again for, like some depraved cock addict. He fucked you so well, your mind was turning into mush. You didn't even register when he had flipped you underneath him or when the rest of his clothes disappeared. He pressed your knees against your sides, pausing only momentarily to admire your blissed out expression and your hair splayed messily over his silk sheets.
Soft squelching filled the air, intermingling with your gasps and moans and Zhongli's occasional grunt. The way his thick girth dragged against your stretched and sensitive walls was downright unfair. His tip grazed your cervix as he bottomed out, hitting all those places that made your toes curl in one smooth stroke.
"Enjoying it so far?" He asked you as he drove into your slippery hole.
Over and over, he rammed himself into you, tearing a needy moan from your lips each time he pulled away. You could barely catch a breath, much less answer him in any degree of coherence.
"Zhongli… Zhongli…" Was all you could say.
At least you knew who was fucking you so good. Zhongli groaned as you neared your limit. The way you trembled in his grasp, your lips latching onto his in desperation as your nails dug into his skin, it was all too sweet. The feeling of being inside you like this, holding you so closely and hearing your unbroken moans of pleasure, it was worth all the wait in the world.
You couldn't tell who caved first. Maybe it'll happened at the same exact time. Zhongli barely managed to pull out last minute, his thick cum splattering all over your stomach and thighs. It was a filthy mess, but you were too lightheaded to care. Your body still tingled from the intensity of the sensations that had coursed through it moments ago. Zhongli panted, focus gradually returning to his eyes. The first thing he saw was your beautifully flushed face. He reached down to stroke your cheek, earning him a silly grin from you.
"That…" You drew in a breath. "That was insane…"
"Are you alright?" He asked you.
The concern in Zhongli's voice was like a drop of warm honey dissolving amidst a swirling mass of emotions. You were only now coming down from the high.
"Better than ever." You replied, still breathless. Your eyes dropped to his spent cock. A smug grin overtook the dazed expression on your face. "I did good, didn't I?"
"You were amazing, dear." He whispered after pressing a kiss to your forehead, a tender gesture that caught you off guard. Were you and Zhongli this close now?
"So what happens now?" You murmured against Zhongli's chest as he settled beside you. "You pretty much just ruined it for me."
"Have I?" He raised a brow. "You were the one who came to my door to solicit your help. How exactly have I made matters worse for you?"
You smiled, satisfied with his reaction. Zhongli was more amused than offended by your accusation, an indication that he was not someone who immediately withdraws at the first sign of complications.
"I still have to stream, you know." You reminded him.
"And I still have plenty of work to do, but now I have this utterly enticing distraction to fend off my mind. I'd say the ruin goes both ways." He chuckled as he twirled your hair between his fingers. "Wouldn't you agree?"
You nodded. "So how do you propose we go about this?"
"Well, for one…" Zhongli let go of the strand, tucking it behind your ear. "I am rather fond of you. Would you be adverse to being with me in a more exclusive capacity?"
"Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" You squinted at his oddly worded question.
Zhongli had always been a precise person. In certain instances however, he also becomes overbearingly formal. The more uneasy he feels, the longer his sentences. You couldn't hear it in his voice, but if he wanted to get a certain answer from you, he would ask it in a way that would make it unreasonable for you to answer in any other way.
"I was hoping to ask you that before I leave three and a half weeks from now." He chuckled, relieved that this discussion was happening much sooner than anticipated. "But if you have an answer now, I will take it."
"I think I need some time to think about it. You should too, Zhongli." You paused to draw a deep breath. "I don't want to be with someone that I'm only going to see once every few months. If this doesn't work out…"
"If things do not work out, nothing between us needs to change. I will not force you to be with me if you do not wish to be." He replied. "Matters of the heart cannot be dealt with by deliberation. If you do not like me, you can tell me. I will not hold it against you."
"I do like you though!" You corrected him, earning yourself an amused chuckle. "You're good-looking, polite, caring, plus you make really good soup. What's there not to like?"
"I suppose I have a fair chance then."
There was nothing fair about Zhongli. From the moment you met him, he already checked off all the boxes needed to sweep you off your feet. Everything afterwards only served to make sure you'd never be able to keep your eyes off him. Now, after you've had a bite of him, you wouldn't be able to keep your lips or hands off him either.
"Ngh…Zhongli!" You cried out his name in a pitiful sound between a whine and a sob.
Every evening after a stream, this would predictably happen. You'd find yourself at Zhongli's door or he'd be at yours. Usually you'd be the one impatiently throwing yourself at him simply due to his patience surpassing yours, but he'd understand your urgency nonetheless. It was impossible for him to not get riled up watching you cam. Something about your eyes not being on him while you pleasured yourself gets him really on edge, like a tiny piece of gravel grating against his sole. Only when you're wrapped seamlessly around his cock did this irritation go away.
You took him so well, your wet haven so warm and tight, he was slowly losing it, loathed to imagine leaving you all by yourself once he had to go. With the way you begged, driven delirious by your own toys, who would you go to once his door was locked? He hated to imagine you seeking relief in any other way that didn't involve his cock repeatedly pounding into your needy cunt. Who else could fill you so perfectly, make you unravel so completely?
This was Zhongli's last day in town before he leaves for his contract in another city. After mulling over it all night, you canceled your stream, something you rarely did. You sent out the notice without any hesitation. There would alway be a next stream, but everyday with Zhongli was precious. When he finally found out he had you all to himself, he insisted on taking you out to a nice restaurant and even got you a bouquet of qingxins, maybe as a reminder for you to not overthink. How could you not though? His question from two weeks ago still lingered in the back of your mind.
You had enjoyed every aspect of Zhongli's company, despite how short his stay was. You could tell he was not holding anything back from you. No matter how he conveyed it, whether through his meals or in bed, his care and attentiveness covered you like a thick blanket. Even if you knew he was about to board a plane and disappear from your sight for months on end, your heart was still grounded, as if it had taken root.
"I will miss you dearly." He sighed as you bid him goodbye that evening at the airport.
"Well, if you can't stand the loneliness, I don't mind taking a quick vacation." You joked. "I have a lot of PTO saved up so I might as well use it."
"You still haven't given me an answer." He brought up the question that had been eating at your brain ever since he asked it.
"Zhongli…"
He stood there quietly, waiting for your reply.
All the people around you faded into a blur. You could almost hear the beat of your heart quicken ever so slightly. Looking up into Zhongli's gorgeous amber eyes, you wondered how you ever managed to resist him for so long.
"Do you think I can still say no?" A faint but hopeful smile spread over your lips. "Just don't break my heart. I don't want to be wrong about you."
A relieved smile took hold on Zhongli's face as your words reached his ears. You've never seen him smile so unrestrained before and it melted you into a puddle of shared joy.
"I would never wish to. How could I bear to break something I've been waiting to cherish for so long?"
You furrowed your brows. "What do you mean for so long? Don't tell me you've been crushing on me this whole time."
He chuckled, gathering you into a tight parting hug. "I won't refute that."
"You're such a loser. Couldn't you tell I liked you?"
"It was not apparent to me. I would hate to assume incorrectly and make things uncomfortable between us."
"Fine. I should've made a move sooner." You replied with a heavy dash of sarcasm. "Or dropped more obvious hints."
"Indeed you should've." He had the galls to agree!
"Are we really going to debate this right now? Right here? If you don't get on that plane, you're going to be stuck here with me."
"Is that not what you'd want?"
"No, go away. I can only take so much of you."
"You take me just fine, if I dare say."
"Zhongli!" You fumed, blushing at the reminder.
The shameless man laughs heartily at your expense. Lord help you. Even when he's teasing you, your heart flutters.
Finally he rushes off to the gates. As soon as he turns his back, a sigh leaves your chest. This time was harder than all the previous times you've said goodbye to him. You were no longer the same person you were four weeks ago. Your crush on Zhongli was no longer just a crush.
A fond smile graced your lips at the thought of the man who had just departed. He left you with a warm and safe feeling, nothing at all like what you imagined you'd face everytime you convinced yourself to not let him into your heart. It was about time. Not like you could casually hand it to someone else with his name etched all over it. It was in good hands now, you assured yourself.
"Do take care of yourself and try not to eat too much take-out. Send me photos so I can see that you are eating well. Nevertheless, don't miss me too much, darling."
You scrunched your nose at the text message Zhongli sent just as you got into your car.
"Are you my dad or my boyfriend?" You texted back. A silly grin was plastered on your face the entire ride back.
Sure, he was a bit old-fashioned and treated you like a rebellious teenager despite your age, but you liked the thought of constantly being on Zhongli's mind. As long as the person was right, what bad could a bit of distance and time apart do? If anything, it'd make you yearn for each other a little more intensely.
Maybe you'd even consider sending him the link to your streams.
----
I swear these oneshots are getting longer and longer. I don't know how I keep typing up so much context for kink prompts. Anyways, this one was inspired by fanart of Zhongli sitting in an armchair. Mainly this and this. You have these two artists to thank for the brainworms that infected me and forced me to write this longass smut!
Tags: monster fucking, partial dragon Zhongli, Zhongli has two penises, double penetration, reader is not traveler, visionless reader
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More Than What’s Expected
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Author’s note: another short one, but i have LOVED the idea of Zhongli’s dick looking like his arms since i saw fanart of it. And had dragon shifter on top of that? I knew what i had to do
It wasn’t often you made it over to the statue of the seven in Dilhua Marsh as your job at the Wangshu Inn usually kept you busy, especially because Xiao was always pestering you for almond tofu whenever he dropped by during your shift. But he had just left on a multi-week mission and business was slower than usual today, so during your break you decided to meander over to the statue to give thanks to the geo archon. Much to your surprise, he was already there.
“Good afternoon, Rex Lapis!” You say with a bow once you got within earshot. His shoulders relaxed as he turned around to greet you with a warm smile.
“No need to address me with such formalities, my dear.” He got on one knee and took your hand in his, placing a delicate kiss on the back before he stood closely beside you. “I am retired after all.”
“Oh, my apologies, Morax,” you said with a blush trying to not wiggle around and expose how flustered you had gotten, “I didn’t mean to offend yo-“
You were met with a gloved finger being gently pressed to your lips. “Zhongli. Please do not feel the need to treat me so formally. You have been good to me as well as Xiao since you have been working at the inn. I do not wish for you to feel on edge around me.”
The red that dusted your cheeks intensified as his finger lingered on your lips and he face remained in close proximity to yours. Horrified at the thought that your archon had felt the rapid beating of your heart through the ground below you took a step back and created some more space between the two of you. His amber eyes seemed to pierce your soul as he studied your form and mannerisms, taking in the sight of you not-so-subtlely biting your lip. “My apologies; I did not mean to offend you in any way. Please-“ Zhongli stomped his foot into the ground and out popped a table and two chairs. “Have a seat.” You do as he commanded, though you weren’t sure if it’s actually a command but you didn’t want a god’s wrath against you. “Tell me about yourself. I have not had the opportunity to formally meet you previously.”
Zhongli listened to you nervously rattle off some details about your personal life such as your likes and interests as well as your professional life working at the inn for the Qixing. You talked about all the people you’ve met and even a few of the travels lady Ninggaung sent you on. Zhongli never lost focus on your words; even stopping you politely every so often to ask more questions so he could fully grasp who you were as a person. He refilled your teacup promptly any time it ran dry and even summoned a pillar to block the lowering sun from your eyes. That made you realize that you had been chatting for hours and surely Verr Goldet would be angry with you. But Zhongli soothed your nerves with his deep, comforting voice. “Do not worry, I sent word when we first met that I would be keeping you from your duties for the rest of the day. The innkeeper will not retaliate against you, that I promise.”
“The rest of the day?” You gulped nervously. What could the lord of contracts want with you for that long?
He rose from his seat and with a flick of his hand his chair and the table sank back into the ground while yours stretched up and placed you in his arms in a bridal carry. “I have grown quite fond of you and wish to make a deal with you. I hope you do not mind my straight forwardness but I wish to make you mine. I have been keeping an eye on you since the start of your employment and have grown fond of your voice and beauty; I simply could not pass up the opportunity to finally have a moment with you.” Your stunned expression caused him to laugh while a nervous sweat rolled down your back. “My sincerest apologies, I know this is very sudden. You are more than welcome to say no; it would not be held against you.”
His eyes were kind as he gazed down at you in his arms while his voice helped soothe the anxiety that boiled in your chest. You always admired his looks and compassion any time you had the chance to meet him. But this? Never in your wildest dreams could you have guessed the geo archon would want you of all people and suddenly you felt less guilty about having him in your thoughts during some alone time. And you were no fool; passing up this opportunity would be the biggest mistake of your life and you wouldn’t get another chance. You ovaries already quivered with excitement of not only the massive ego boost that coursed through you, but what being claimed by a god would feel like.
“Would this be… a contract?” While this was an unimaginable offer, you knew the god of contracts always had tricks up his sleeve.
“Why yes of course it would be. You could think of it like the marriage contract you humans say to each other; vows I believe they are called. In sickness and in health if I remember correctly. I vow to cherish and protect you just as any other man would.”
Marriage?! The fast paced talk made your head spin and your face burst into a bright red.
Your god chuckled again at your reaction and brushed your hair from your eyes. “Of course I can always give you a demonstration of just how well I can take care of you first so you can make a well informed decision.” The intensity of the offer nearly made you vomit but there was no way you could resist. With your heart pounding louder than any war drum you nodded in agreement. A breeze made the tailcoat of his funeral parlor attire flutter in the breeze as the weight of your decision started to weigh on you.
Zhongli held you tight and with a haze of color and movement you were no longer by the statue, instead inside a large, nicely decorated room covered in dragon motifs and lined with small cor lapis clusters on the dressers. Potted plants sat in two of the corners that added variance to the color scheme. The smell of earthy tea and incense lingered in the air which tied the whole room together. Along the center of the back wall was a massive bed with golden sheets and lots of big, fluffy pillows that looked very inviting; however Zhongli didn’t bring you here to take a cat nap. The archon gently placed you on the edge of the bed and ran his fingers through your hair, admiring the anxious look in your eyes. “Now then, I shall warn you: if you choose to accept my offer, be prepared for an encounter different from any other you have had before.”
“Different?” The single word question squeaked out quieter than a mouse in the kitchen and hung in the air until it felt like it would suffocate you.
“Yes. Different.” Zhongli replied. He didn't seem agitated by your hesitance, in fact, he seemed… turned on by it; if the bulge in his pants was anything to go off of. “I am not human afterall. Surely you do not expect me to not enjoy myself in my own true form?”
Embarrassment washed over you like a dizzying wave. “No; I’m sorry, I was just… surprised is all. I’m so used to seeing you-“
“As a human?” He pulled his hand away from you and you feared you royally messed up, but his fingers worked at his buttons until his tail coat fell to the floor. A bright yellow light flashed above his head and after rubbing your eyes you saw long, slender horns climb out from his hair. “I take no offense as I do always look human after all. Though, I would say the exuvia I use is not my true form either; just one of many aspects I take.” Next came his undershirt and gloves. His arms were a black to amber ombre with orange glowing patterns down the entire length which leaked onto his chest. His amber eyes also started to glow as his gaze intensified on you. “I do hope you’re ready. I do not wish for this to be the last time we enjoy each other’s company.” His pants fell down to the floor next and a long tail with a puffy end fell to the ground and slithered around. The bulge in his underwear was concerning as he took a few steps closer to you. “Please lay back on the pillow so we may begin.” And with that final command his hand slowly dipped down to the waistband of his boxers. You watched as he slowly, almost as if he was taunting you, pulled them down and you saw his cock standing straight, matching the same ombre and glowing design of his arms. But what shocked you even more was the second cock under the first, also at full attention. As the fabric hit the floor, he walked out of it and crawled onto the bed, pinning you against the pillow like a caged bird surrounded by hungry wolves: nowhere to escape and no place to hide.
“I shall allow you one last chance. I am afraid once I start, it is most difficult for me to stop unless I finish. I promise this at least: no permanent harm will come to you.” His stern expression wasn’t scary; it was somehow comforting. But you couldn’t keep your eyes peeled off his cocks for long, your holes already quivering with great excitement. The words got stuck in your throat and all you could do was nod in agreement before Zhongli moved quickly to rid you of your clothes. Laying there bare his hands traced all your features; starting first with your feet and calves, following the slender shape of your figure before sliding up to your thighs which he grabbed and played with like he was sculpting clay. They next massaged your hips while his mouth continued the rest of the journey northward, using his now long, snake-like tongue lightly on your stomach up to your breasts, delicately circling around your nipples as his eyes watched your face start to show signs of pleasure.
With each positive movement from you, he reacted in turn, continuing with his actions or changing them to please you more if he didn’t get the desired outcome. Small moans tried to remain hidden in your mouth but his effort wasn’t fruitless as eventually you cracked as they spilled out into the air. Zhongli’s eyes glowed brighter as this confirmation fueled his determination. This whole endeavor left you wetter than you could have anticipated, much to your embarrassment. Zhongli continued to fuss over you, planting kisses and squeezes along your body while your legs rubbed together like a bow on a violin trying to get some friction for relief. Not much longer after, Zhongli couldn’t contain himself anymore and pulled back and drug his bottom cock up and down your slit. “Are you ready?” He asked gently.
With a quick nod you shut your eyes, ready to be penetrated by his glowing rock. Zhongli slowly pressed his length in between your folds until it was entirely nestled deep inside you. His fingers held tightly onto the meat of your thighs as he held your legs open to watch himself disappear. Archons was he hard; it felt like a rock pillar had skewered you in half, and in a way, it had. A deep, guttural groan from deep in the pit of his pelvis loosened itself from his lips and caused your spine to tingle. Oh what a glorious sound it was! The walls of your pussy squeezed in reaction as if mesmerised by the noise which caused another one to let loose. “Liking it already? We have barely gotten started.”
His starting pace was fast and shallow; such a tease but very clearly just a warm up, to him at least. That low grumble continued while he pushed in and out of you, and you watched as a small bead of liquid formed at the tip of his top cock as it slid back and forth across your stomach, twitching as if it was begging for something more. With a smirk, Zhongli chuckled “I do not believe you are ready for that quite yet.” He gripped your legs harder and pulled you closed to him so he was fully inside you, bottoming out. A sharp gasp for air was all you could manage in reply, your thighs shook under his fingertips from the sensation. “See? I haven’t even gotten you fully prepared yet. How about we change that?” With a quick rock back, he was laying down with you on top of him. Zhongli shifted to extend his legs and the tip of his cock pressed harder into your cervix. With his hands on your hips he guided you forward and back, sliding yourself along his dick inside you, as well as using his second one as a grinding pad. Your breathing became shaky as you let him have complete control of your movements, barely even able to hold yourself up.
With some time you began to relax enough that you didn’t need him to set the pace, instead you controlled how deep he was and how hard you pressed yourself down. The sound of his tail whipping back and forth on the blankets was a very clear sign that he too was enjoying himself watching you pleasure yourself on his cocks. You lean forward to the perfect angle, grabbing hold of his horns to prop yourself up. This simple gesture seemed to light a fire in Zhongli however; he did not keep you in the position long before you were promptly removed and tossed up towards the pillows. His fingers, which now seemed slightly pointed, dug into your skin which stung as he flipped you over and your ass was brought up into the air.
“Finally! It’s time for the main event!” Without another warning you felt pressure not only from your pussy being repenetrated, but his second cock being jammed up your ass. Your bottom half felt like you were going to burst at any moment with how much he stuffed you. Once fully slotted inside both of you let out a hefty moan and Zhongli wasted no time plowing you; no more shallow thrusts as each and every stroke was crammed in you as far as possible. His sounds started to become more animalistic and his fingers now tore lightly into your skin as he lost himself to his inner beast.
“Zhongli…” you whimpered between gasps, “Oh fuck…”
You were lifted to your knees, still getting pounded. His now even longer tail wrapped around your stomach which then snaked up your arms, keeping them pinned in the air above your head. His claws each grabbed one of your breasts, squeezing the fleshy mounds and leaving small cuts along the skin. You felt him bite into your neck and latch on refusing to let go. His toned, glowing arms held tightly onto you and you felt as if you may get crushed between them and his solid chest. He grumbled something but with your flesh between his lips you couldn’t make out just what was said, but judging by his tone, and the rapid thrusting of his hips, he was certainly enjoying himself with your body.
It was incredible to think about. Out of all the humans out there, your archon picked you. You were his choice to bury his cocks into you. It was your divine task to get pumped full of his juices, to please your god and become tangled up in one of his contracts. It was now you accepted and embraced your fate; there was no way you wouldn’t agree to become his when you wouldn’t get this feeling, both the emotional feeling of being hand picked and the physical feeling of being double stuffed with dragon cock, anywhere else.
“Zhongli!” You huffed trying to gather enough air to speak, “I accept! I accept your contract!”
The geo archon froze. His breathing was deep as his mind wrapped itself around the words you just said. Another deep, low, grumble came from his chest which sounded like some sort of laugh. “Perfect,” he whispered into your skin. He turned the both of you and fell sideways onto the bed. His legs wrapped around yours and he somehow managed to fuck you faster and harder, shaking the enitre frame so much you were worried it would collapse out from under you.
Over and over and over again his cocks slammed up into you, forcing you over the edge too many times to count. Zhongli’s stamina was incredible as he never let up his speed or force for what felt like hours; you had lost count of how many times you came and were starting to get light headed by the time his hips became sporadic with his movements and his breathing labored as he finally detached himself from your neck which was most likely a hideous shade of purple.
“I will fill you up, claim you as my own, to seal the contract. You will be mine forever; one with the rock for the rest of time.”
You were completely fucked out; nearly limp in his arms and unable to fully respond with anything other than a whine as he dumped so much cum into your holes you felt your organs swell slightly and what didn’t fit gushed down your legs in a hot, stinky tsunami. Zhongli fucked through his orgasm until he finally came to a stop and his dragon features slowly retracted into his body. His cocks remain inside you as he softened and held you close.
“What an excellent contract we have made,” he cooed in your ear as he rubbed your stomach. “Rest for a while then I will have someone attend to your wounds. I apologize if I was a bit… rough for our first time. It is in my nature.” You couldn’t work up the energy to reply, instead cuddling up closer to him as he started to massage some undamaged areas to work the soreness out of your muscles.
I mean, if you want to, you could do separate as well.
But the situation will be - suppose those 3 do exist in the same universe. Mc innocently and unknowingly offers an aphrodisiac(like the Tabs chocolate we know)
How would they react. And pls if u can, make mc the cutthroat type. And make the men turn into their dragon forms whilst yknow, the moment .
Im rlly sorry if this is too many instructions.
Feel free to ignore it if u want to tho. No probs
now playing: 𝖊𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖕𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓. ☾
❝ 니 앞에 서면 난 목이 말라와 yeah. ❞
— taemin, 'thirsty'
translation: "when i’m in front of you, i get thirsty, yeah."
★ featuring ; zhongli & neuvillette & dan heng • permansor terrae x afab!reader
★ genre ; nsfw! (mdni) — magical school!au, witch!reader, harddom!zhongli, softdom!neuvillette, softdom!dan heng but its lwk borderline sub, sub!reader, aphrodisiac in the form of poisoned chocolate, foursome, they transform into their dragon forms before climax through lol, one in every hole, blow job, oral sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, reader lwk evil as shit, bratty!reader, brat taming, cum eating, creampie, inappropriate use of elemental powers, alice and herta are reader’s friends, reader hyper-analyzes all of the dragons like an obsessed freak, drugging, praise kink, degradation kink, breast play, clit play
★ lyric count ; 3680
★ composer's note ; NOT PROOF READ!!! hi anon!! this took a bit… i hope this is up to your expectations… it was a hard fic to workshop TT but i figured something out! kinda went in a crazy direction though… sorry </33
★ back to playlist!
dividers by cafekitsune! photos from pinterest; edited by me!
The dragons have won the annual magics competition every year.
This time, you’ll do anything it takes to win, even if it means using underhanded tactics.
This is your last year attending Hoyo’s Academy for Magical and Mythical Arts (HAMMA for short), and all you’ve wanted to do is win the annual magics competition.
So far, you have competed for the past three years.
Every year, you would come second to the dragons, who have managed to outmagic you every. single. time. It didn't matter what subject, whether it was defensive arts or alchemy, the dragons would always get the upperhand. No matter how hard you tried. No matter how much you practiced.
Futile. It would always be futile.
It was absurd, really, how advanced they were. There is no way in the universe it was fair for everyone else. Dragons age at a slower rate than normal humans. All the ones you've met here are at least 1800 years old. That’s thousands of years more worth of experience than you will ever have. They would always hold the advantage.
You’re sick of it!
Sick of always being second best.
This year, you're going to win first no matter what it takes.
It seems like the academy has taken pity on their poor, non-dragon students.
(How nice of them to do it in your last year at the school.)
They’ve allowed students to compete in trios this year, so you have teamed up with the two best witches you know, Alice and Herta.
As a polymath, Alice is adept at things like alchemy, astrology, engineering, and even medicine. She’s what the other students like to describe as the “renaissance woman.” You’ve always used your magic oppressively, so she’s the perfect partner to cover any of your blind spots.
Herta is your team’s mastermind. After all, she’s the 83rd member of HAMMA’s esteemed Genius Society. You’d say she’s a bit of a recluse, seeing how she hasn’t competed a single time in the magics competition even with the skills to win at the snap of a finger. You consider yourself lucky that you even managed to convince her to join your team. Alice definitely played a part in it, but you like to think your begging—which was totally below yourself but, hey, everyone gets desperate from time to time—won her over.
If you had to give yourself a description, you’d probably say you’re the brawler of the group. You’re the witch that’s on the frontlines, taunting the opponents with overwhelming confidence. You know every combative magical spell taught at HAMMA. Some students refer to you as cocky, but it’s all for the love of the game, really.
You can’t help that you just hate losing.
However, this also means the unbeatable dragons are now grouped together.
Zhongli, a dragon connected the earth itself. He wields the power of geo with an amount of care you could only ever dream of. From the past three years, you’ve noted that Zhongli acts like a vanguard. Most of the magic he wields is protective and there doesn’t seem to be anything he can’t shield against.
(You need to find a way to break through his hard defense if you want to do any damage…)
Zhongli pisses you off sometimes. He acts so dignified but aloof all at the same time. You know for a fact that it's an act.
He’s hiding something…
(You just need a way to prove it…)
Neuvillette’s nobility is a well known fact at the school. He’s the sovereign of hydro. You never bothered looking deeper into it, but apparently it’s a revered ranking within dragon society. His power can “rival the gods” or whatever that means. It’s none of your concern when the power you did witness seemed… dare you say, a bit weak?
He’s skilled at wielding hydro, but most of his attacks have to do with shooting out beams of water. Surely, any wise person would know to just duck or dive?
(You shove the down the memory of when he had saved you from a pack of rifthounds with the aforementioned “beams of water.”)
Anyhow, Neuvillette is way too kind to be anything like how other students describe him. Can the dragon who greets everyone with a wave and soft smile on his handsome face truly be this all powerful being?
(You definitely didn’t think so. Any one of your high leveled cryo spells could incapacitate him easily!)
Dan Heng…
Dan Heng is hard for you to categorize. Throughout the three years you’ve attended school with him, he has undergone many chances. When he first arrived at school, he seemed like any other witch or wizard trying to master their craft and then, all of sudden at the start of second year, he had returned with a pair of horns on his head!
Rumors started spreading about him at the drop of a hat. Students were saying that he’d been cursed or that he’d made some sort of fustian bargain for more power. It got to the point where even you were curious about his history.
Like any sane person, you went and asked his adoptive family about it. According to Stelle and Caelus, he’d always been a dragon. Apparently he had a confrontation with someone he knew in his past and it had awakened some hidden inner power.
(Hmm… So, he was like a wolf who presented late? A late bloomer perhaps?)
This only meant that he wasn’t as skilled as the other dragons in your year, but all of that belief was thrown out the window when Dan Heng entered his third year transformed, again.
(Seriously, how many times can someone change within the span of their academic career?)
His horns were more prominent now, shining a brilliant gold, and now he even had a tail! It’s evident that he did some “soulsearching” during summer break. March did mention that they were heading to “Amphoreus” for the summer that year.
(Maybe you have to check this “Amphoreus” out yourself!)
You had some shared classes with him your third year and this drastic improvement showed. While he was the top of the class already, he was now soaring above everyone else in terms of magic.
(With yourself close behind, of course.)
You were envious of how fast someone could improve. The way he merged cloudhymn magic with that of terra was like a musician playing an instrument. It was entrancing. Dan Heng is like if Neuvillette and Zhongli were one person.
An ace.
(You have to find a way to remove all three of them from the competition at once.
But how?)
“Everyone, we need a plan.”
You slam your hands on the wooden surface of the table.
You’ve gathered your friends at the library for an emergency team meeting. With the combined genius of all three of you, you’d definitely come up with a way to stop the dragons this year.
Alice sips tea from her teacup and Herta checks her nails. They both eye you like you’ve gone crazy. You’re rambling on about plans you’ve come up with at the dead of night. They range from somewhat plausible to downright bizarre. It didn't help your case that you somehow had an item in your enchanted bookbag to help illustrate each and every one of your plans.
A pile of magical items begins to pile up on the table and other students have begun looking over at the commotion with concern. Herta lets out an annoyed sigh, “We could be eating some chocolate from that new bakery right now instead…”
“Ooh—You’re right! Rhinedottir said it was just exquisite,” Alice adds in, delicate porcelain clinking against each other as she places down her teacup on a matching plate.
Wait.
Chocolate?
“Herta, you’re a genius!” you exclaim as you begin to quickly gather everything back into your bag.
“I am?” the witch gapes, “I mean—of course I am!”
Herta rises to her feet with a newly stroked ego and follows after you. Alice trails behind once she magics away her tea set.
It’s two days until the competition now and you’re in the kitchen of your dorm.
It looks as if a chocolate fountain had exploded everywhere. There’s chocolate on the walls, the counter, and even the floor. It’s a miracle you’re able to work in such a mess.
(Thank god, you decided to be a witch and not a chef.)
Your teammates' mention of chocolate that day made you think of enchanted sweets. You’d recently read about them in an alchemic book for magical treats written by an anonymous author. The recipe mixed chocolate together with somnogranates, a magical fruit known for its ability to put people to sleep for a long period of time.
(Talk about putting the competition to sleep! This is perfect.)
The recipe only called for a drop of somnogranate juice, but you went ahead and squeezed a whole fruit's worth of it into the chocolate.
(More juice means the stronger the sleeping spell, right?)
Well it’s too late to worry about that now. You hum a happy tune as you carefully pour the chocolate into star molds before placing them into the fridge to set.
Within your daze, you fail to notice the chocolate covered words noted at the bottom of the page holding the recipe: “Don’t put in too much now! Just even a drop above the recipe and it’ll turn into a dangerous aphrodisiac!”
It’s a day before the competition now, and, to your convenience, the trio of dragons are right by the grand entrance of the academy when you arrive.
You clutch the wrapped box of chocolates behind your back as you approach them, a happy beat in your step. They notice you immediately due to their enhanced senses.
Neuvillette is the one to greet you first, “Good morning, [Name]. You seem to be in a good mood this morning.”
You smile at him, rocking back and forth on your feet, “That’s because I am!”
“Oh? Did something good happen recently?” Zhongli indulges you next, a careful hand placed on his chin as if to ponder the possibilities.
You squeeze the chocolates in your grip, “Yep! I finally managed to find the solution to this problem that’s been bothering me for a while!”
Dan Heng lets out an understanding hum, “I know what you mean… It almost feels like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders.”
“Hehe, it definitely does—” you give them an innocent smile, “Oh! Before I forget, I made some chocolate for Alice and Herta, but I had some extras left over… Would you like them?”
The dragons give each other a look, but ultimately accept the gift. Dan Heng takes the chocolates from your hands. You’re quick to excuse yourself from the scene soon after, making some excuse about having to meet up with someone.
Once you’re a comfortable distance away, you hide behind a bush in the courtyard before spying on them. If they were to eat it now, their slower metabolism would mean the chocolate would only go into effect once classes were over for the day.
(Hehe. They don’t expect anything!)
You watch as Dan Heng opens up the chocolate and picks up a piece. He scrutinizes it for a second, even sniffing it before he finally places it in his mouth. His expression brightens and you imagine him letting out a “Mmm!” It encourages the other two and soon each of them has had one or two of your chocolate.
(Jackpot!)
It’s later in the night when you hear a knock on the door.
You’re preparing to go to bed for the night and, since tonight is a night to celebrate, you’ve taken the liberty to do some selfcare. You’ve put on a delicate white nightdress and prepared some rose tea. You were going to cuddle up in bed, but that was before someone decided to knock on your door.
You ignore them the first time, but they knock again. This time harsher and more frantic.
A groan escapes your mouth. You contemplate putting on noise cancelling headphones and pretending the knocking doesn’t exist, but your curiosity gets the better of you and you’re trudging towards the door.
The lock clicks softly and you open the door just a sliver, “What the hell do you want? Do you know what time it—”
Your words are caught in your throat.
The three people you would have never expected to be at your door are there.
Zhongli, Neuvillette, and Dan Heng.
They are all at varying states of disarray and flushed red. Zhongli isn’t wearing the intricate coat he adorns every day and the collared shirt he typically wears underneath is unbuttoned. Neuvillette is also dressed in a collared shirt, but it’s soaked from sweat and sticks to his body. It leaves very little to the imagination and you can make the shape of every individual muscle underneath. Dan Heng has on a skin tight compression shirt. Like with the Neuvillette, Dan Heng’s shirt sticks to his chest and you find it difficult to look away.
Neuvillette audibly gulps as he struggles to get words out of his mouth, “You—! What did you put in that chocolate—?”
As your gaze moves down on the men in front of you, you notice their predicament and almost slam the door on their faces. There are prominent tents in each of their slacks. Based on the size, they are all very well-endowed.
As dirty thoughts begin to fill your brain, you blink rapidly as a last attempt to grasp at the remains of your quickly crumbling mind.
(Why are they here? Chocolate? What did I put in that chocolate? Cocoa, vanilla extract—
Somnogranates.)
You feel sweat begin to form on your forehead and your heart drops to your stomach, “J—Just some somnogranates—”
“Somnogranates?!”
They exclaim at once and their voices overlap each other, making you flinch at the volume.
Dan Heng steps forward. He stumbles but manages to stabilize himself with a hand on the wall beside where you’re peeking from the door, “How much—How much did you put in?”
“A—A whole frui—”
“A whole fruit's worth?!”
(They don’t even let you finish that time.)
“[Name],” Zhongli starts, voice dark and surprisingly composed, “Open the door.”
Your blood goes cold.
(And you pretend you don’t feel the wet patch form on your panties.)
You try to ramble out a reply, but Zhongli is already pushing your dorm door open and stepping inside with Neuvillette and Dan Heng following closely behind. He closes it behind him and you hear the lock latch shut.
All that fills the air is the sound of heavy panting and sexual tension.
You avoid the gaze of the dragons in front of you but you can feel their eyes on you. It makes you want to rub your thighs together and you probably do because, all of sudden, Neuvillette’s picking you up and going down the hall to find your room.
Once he does find it, the dragon places you down softly on your fluffy sheets and makes haste at taking off his shirt. Apparently, the other couldn’t wait and, by the time they’ve followed in behind you, they’ve already begun undressing. Dan Heng has his shirt off, abandoned without a care in the hall, and is frantically trying to take off his belt. Zhongli doesn’t undress all the way, unbuttoning his shirt but still leaving it on. Unlike Dan Heng, he takes off his belt with quick precision and unzips his slacks.
Zhongli pulls down his underwear just enough to get his cock free. You can’t take your eyes off it once it's out. It’s not very thick but he makes up for it in length. You’re sure if that were to go inside you, it’d knock against your cervix every time it thrust back in.
You can’t help but salivate at the sight.
Zhongli notices your reaction and lets out a crude laugh as he reaches for you. “Damn brat—Did you want all three of us like this?” he growls out as he grips your face in one hand.
The other reaches down to play with your pussy under your nightgown but on top of your panties. Zhongli rubs harsh circles into your clit. The pain and pleasure merge into one and your squirming in his grip.
In your entranced stupor with the geo dragon, you fail to notice that Neuvillette has climbed into your bed behind you. Unlike Zhongli's unrelenting fingers, his touches are featherlike, like he’s afraid of hurting you. He gently guides you to rest on his chest. In the position, you can’t see his dick, but you feel it press against the small of your back.
The hydro sovereign slips his hands under your nightgown, making it ride up your thighs and expose your panties to the dragon in front of you. His hands continue to travel up until they are cupping your bare breasts. Neuvillette enjoys the weight of them before he begins to massage them in his grip, occasionally pinching your nipples between his fingers and causing them to harden.
(Now they can see how aroused you are and that you’re creating a mess on your thighs.)
You feel a breath on your left ear and Neuvillette whispers into it shortly after.
“My darling, if you use somnogranates haphazardly like that,” he pressed a kiss on your ear, “they can turn into a very potent aphrodisiac.”
“I—I’m sorry—! I didn’t know—” You stutter out. It's hard to formulate words at the neverending stimulation of your body.
Zhongli's hand from your face has now moved to your thigh, keeping it open as the other continues to bully your cunt.
Neuvillette has begun licking your ear and whispering sweat nothings into them all the while he massages your breasts.
(You could only wonder where Dan Heng was right now… Wait! Dan Heng is—)
As if he was reading your thoughts, Dan Heng is kneeling on your bed, his pretty cock positioned in front of your face.
“C’mon, [Name],” he says almost sheepishly, “Don’t leave me out of this…”
He nudges his hips closer to your face expectingly. Dan Heng’s dick is shorter than Zhongli’s but it's nonetheless intimidating. You press a wet kiss on the tip, giving it kitten licks as your hand comes up to wrap around the shaft. There’s no way it’s going to fit all the way in your mouth, so you take in as much as you can before stroking the rest of it with your hand.
Dan Heng’s moans of pleasure are music to your ears. His hands find home on your head and his hips staccato into your mouth. He lets out a loud whine when you suck particularly hard on one inhale.
While you’re occupied with Dan Heng, you feel Zhongli rip off your panties. You’re gonna pull back to protest but Dan Heng presses your face into his hips, making you choke on his dick. Zhongli uses the opportunity to sheath himself in your pussy, your wet cunt providing enough lubrication for him to slip in. His hands grip your hips and make them meet the brutal pace he has already begun to set. He hits your cervix at every thrust and you feel it deep within you.
With the help of Zhongli’s movements, Neuvillette now has better access to your ass. He uses his powers of hydro to lube up his cock and your hole before he presses himself in. It’s a tight fit and you feel tears begin to prick at your eyes. You're being filled in all holes now and it’s overwhelming. The sovereign notices and kisses your cheek, telling you that “it’ll be alright” and that “it’ll feel good soon.”
The sound and smell of sex fill your small room. Before you know it, thrusts are growing erratic and sounds of pleasure increase in volume. As the dragons get closer to their climax, a blinding light fills the room, causing you to squeeze your eyes shut,
When you finally recover your sight, you’re met with another dick sliding on top of your pussy as Zhongli continues to thrust in and out of you. Every time he pulls out or pushes in, the top cock bumps on your clit and has you arching on top of Neuvillette.
The movement has you realizing that Neuvillette has undergone this transformation as well. The familiar weight of his dick on your back has returned and it nudges against you every time he pushes into your tight hole.
Suddenly being overwhelmed by dragon dicks, you failed to notice that Dan Heng had pulled out of your mouth. When you finally do, you turn to him and see him waiting patiently for you to let him back in. He places a guiding hand on the back of your head and you kiss both tips before taking the upper cock into your mouth. Dan Heng doesn’t give you a chance to prepare yourself before he’s thrusting back into your mouth. The lower dick slides under your chin and presses into your neck.
The pleasure is too much and your climax hits you before you realize it. When you cum, it’s like an avalanche. It all comes crashing down and you’re seeing spots in your vision. You squirt all over Zhongli and you feel the geo dragon continue to thrust to help ride out your high. He lets out a guttural moan at how you tighten around him and soon he’s coming deep inside you, tip kissing your cervix.
Neuvillette and Dan Heng are close behind, just before they’re going to cum, they both pull out and release on top of you. The former on your back and the latter on your face.
They paint you in a sticky white.
However, it seems the white spots in your vision were a sign to your upcoming unconsciousness from the pleasure. Before you finally succumb to slumber, you think you feel someone lovingly stroke your head and another uses hydro to clean you of your collective juices.
You feel someone drape a blanket on you and you fall asleep covered in the scent of earth and ocean.
what the helly did i just write
please like, comment, reblog, and share if you enjoyed!!
Its moth, crawling out of the covid cave to drop this and then going back to bed.
wont lie this idea has been on my mind for the better part of a week, but between work and then being smashed by the ol' rona I havent had the energy, plain and simple. but I'm starting to get that back.
sorry if it seems a little rushed, brain wanted it OUT.
Butler! Zhongli x CEO (Afab) Reader.
Nsfw, does this count as office AU? i think it does?, humiliation kink if you squint?, aftercare because even when he's mean zhongli is an aftercare king.
You had never entertained the thought of hiring a live-in personal butler until one of your friends had mentioned it. She’d gone on and on about how her much time having one had saved, and how it gave her the peace of mind to relax every once in a while, a luxury you can't remember the last time you afforded as the ceo of a major company, sure you had secretaries, but they only worked within the firm, and your life?
God you needed a secretary for life.
Even then. It took you a few more months to finally cave and look into it. The agency you find has raving reviews; there’s an interview process, which takes another few weeks for you to finally sit down and do. They ask you many questions about your lifestyle, and what you need out of their service, and then it’s left in their hands.
And so, a week later, you receive a knock at your door.
Tall, sharp features, immaculately dressed.
But his eyes.
Holy shit his eyes.
Molten gold, almost shimmering in the morning light as your new butler bows to you. One gloved hand over his heart.
“Good morning Miss. My name is Zhongli.The agency has analysed your lifestyle and have thus extended your contract to me.” He explains.
Well damn, in the looks department alone you’d be leaving them a five-star review.
—
Your first proper morning with Zhongli working for you was…hectic.
Your morning alarm didn’t go off, thankfully your body-clock was pretty on point, but still, you’d slept in ten whole minutes, throwing off your schedule.
You barely even noticed that your clothes had already been laid out in the bathroom as you whirlwind through your bedroom to get ready, simply picking up the neatly folded pile as you went.
You resign yourself to a breakfast smoothie as you flurry into the kitchen, you simply didnt have any time to cook, and you’d have to clean the blender when you got home-
“Ah, good morning Miss. I trust you slept well?” Zhongli asks as he places down a plate of bacon and eggs at your usual spot in the breakfast nook. You stop, blinking at him with wide eyes.
“W-whats that?” you ask him, brain still not quite with it yet.
“Breakfast?” He counters with a tilt of his head. “Simply one of my duties.”
Right…
Right you had a secretary for your life now…
And fuck, he could cook.
You don't remember the last time you’d sat down, in your own house, eating a hot, home cooked meal for breakfast…usually it was toast, or if you didn’t have time to sit, the aforementioned smoothie that you really hated, but it was better than nothing, because when else would you have time to eat during the day?
But no, breakfast had been made for you, served with coffee and even the morning newspaper. Zhongli looks…immaculate as always, smile on his face as he cleans up and announces he will be awaiting you in the car.
That first day…no, the first week was such a learning curve… between him driving you everywhere, keeping you blessedly on time for your meetings, he also seemed to know exactly what you needed, sometimes before even you knew.
He sometimes appears with a small plate of cookies, and a mug of hot coffee, made just the way you like it, just as your mood was beginning to wane, and immediately you feel better.
As the weeks stretch on and deadlines draw closer, you find that he’s also an amazing sounding board, and your nights become a little less weary with someone else there to fill the silence, even as he silently goes about tidying your home, he’s never too far away.
—
Something around the latter half of the year just really made all your client’s extra demanding.
Your staff were overworked.
You were overworked.
You find yourself staying up later and later into the night, going over plans and documents, trying to sort all of this…this mess into something cohesive for both yourself and your poor staff.
You rub at your temples with a ragged sigh. What time was it now? You don't think you want to know…
A soft clink beside you draws your attention to a fresh cup of tea and you startle.
“Oh, Zhongli…I-I thought you’d be asleep by now..” you murmur softly, leaning back in your chair. Your butler simply smiles at you, even now at god-knows-what time passed midnight, he was still dressed in his usual work suit.
“You should be too, Miss.” he tells you softly, but not condescendingly, like a worried friend.
“I cant yet.” you sigh, motioning to the armageddon of papers strewn across your desk “I need to get this sorted before the next review meeting but…augh I dunno…I just…I cant concentrate.”
“That would be because you are stressed, and tired.” Zhongli points out, chuckling softly at your side eye before he shifts, walking around your desk to come to a stop behind your chair.
“Here… perhaps this will help…” he murmurs more to himself than to you, and suddenly his hands are on your shoulders, lithe, careful fingers pressing into your trapezius muscles. You grunt and wince a little, having been totally unaware of how tense your shoulders had been until now.
“Shh, just take a deep breath and relax.” Zhongli’s deep voice rumbles behind you as he slowly massages at the tension, his hands are gentle, but expert, and it takes you longer than it should to realise that he's not wearing his gloves for this. “Now…tell me what the matter is…”
With another set of eyes, and a clear explanation of what you need, by the time he’s worked all the tension from your shoulders, you’ve finally got a clear plan, and immediately set to work sorting and organising the moment his warm, surprisingly soft hands finally leave your shoulders.
Once all is said and done, you turn to your butler.
“Thank you, Zhongli…I…don't think I could have done that without you here.”
You’re met with a dashingly handsome, genuine smile, and a graceful bow of his head.
“It was my pleasure, Miss. I am here to aid your every whim.”
—
Meeting after meeting after meeting.
If you had to speak to one more person demanding things of you and your company today, you were going to scream. The sight of your black sedan, waiting dutifully for you outside the sliding glass doors at the end of the day was almost enough to make you cry as you all but collapse into the back seats with a groan.
“How were the investors today, Maam?” Zhongli asks, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes as he watches you in the rear-view.
“They could invest in some chill.” you mutter, taking a few moments before forcing yourself to sit up, knowing full well Zhongli wouldn’t move this car an inch until you had your seatbelt on.
“I hazard to say you could also do with, as you say, some chill.” He adds as he easily merges into the busy afternoon traffic. “You’re working yourself to the bone.”
“It’s just another month.” you sigh “investors always get antsy this time of year…”
“You said that last month too, you know.”
“Did I?” you groan, pinching the bridge of your nose “Hey…when we get home…could I have another one of those massages?”
You loathe to admit how…reliant you had become on Zhongli’s ability to get the tension out of your shoulders, ever since that first night when he’d helped sort out your work with you, you’d been asking every other day or so for one, it was just so nice to relax into his care while you vented the day’s frustrations away, or soundboarded with him.
“Oh I think I can manage that.”
“Where would I be without you…?” you mumble softly as you let your eyes shut for a moment, just a moment to rest your aching eyes.
As it stands, that moment ends when Zhongli’s gentle hand on your arm rouses you. “Wh-wassgoinon?” you mumble, looking around.
“We’re home, Miss….you looked like you needed the rest so I didn’t rouse you.” Zhongli murmurs softly, reaching past you to fetch your bag.
He smells of tea, and spices…warm…comforting.
—
You groan softly as his fingers press insistently into your shoulders.
“You’re extra tense today…” Zhongli murmurs softly, leaning over to look you in the face “are you alright?”
“I-I…yeah…just…stressed I think.” you sigh, leaning your head to the side so he can get better access to your neck. You’d never admit it, but you were pretty sure at this point you were just craving his touch, you just…didn't have the time for skinship these days, how you’d managed to survive before hiring him? You had no idea.
Behind you, Zhongli hums.
“May I try…something different?” He asks quietly, rather unlike him, usually when he did something, he did it with confidence that you would be alright with it, and so far he’d never been wrong…why ask now? “I think your stress runs deeper than a simple shoulder massage can handle.” he adds when you look over your shoulder at him.
“I mean…I trust your judgement Zhongli…whatever you think I need…” you mumble.
You expect a change in his technique, maybe working a little further down your spine perhaps?.
Not to suddenly be thrown forward, chest pressed against the dark mahogany of your desk by a single,strong hand against your spine to keep you there as you gasp in shock.
“Z-Zhongli!?” you gasp, looking over your shoulder at your calm, gentle butler.
Only to find a sharp, seductive smirk plastered to his lips. His golden eyes are dark, predatory, you should be afraid.
Keyword: Should.
You watch, dumbstruck as he licks his lips, ripping your jeans straight off your legs like they were nothing, his ungloved hand grazing up the back of your thigh, and that touch alone has your eyes rolling back and a half-bitten moan falling from your lips. Gods how long had it been?
“Hmm, needy little thing, aren’t we? Thrown against your desk by your own butler and you don't even have the decency to be afraid?” Zhongli chuckles darkly as he shoves two fingers into you; the mix of pleasure and pain is enough to have your spine arching “Looks like I was right…you do need more than a little massage hm?”
“G-god…please…” you whine, the humiliation of the situation only making you hotter as he roughly thrusts his fingers, occasionally scissoring them to stretch you open, his other hand shifting from your spine to wrap around the base of your neck, holding you still as he works you open.
This new, rougher side to him…you didn’t know you wanted it...but god damn he was driving a hard bargain, plus it’s not like this wasn't something you may have thought about on a rare occasion or three… you’d just expected it to be…slower, gentler, but this? You could work with this.
“Please…? Please what?” he purrs, leaning over to nip at your ear “what do you want from me? I am at your every beck and call.” His words are low, dangerous, but genuine, and you shudder.
“You-!” you choke “please g-god, Z-Zhongli I want you to fuck me-”
One moment there’s fingers, the next moment nothing, and you want to cry, the petulant whine only being held back by the sound of a belt buckle.
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing I’m at your service.”
And then he roughly bucks his hips and good gods.
Considering he wore such fitted trousers, where the hell had he been keeping that??
That mix of pleasure-pain is back, but more intense this time; you definitely had not been wet enough, and yet? You wouldn't have wanted it any other way, the pain added it’s own flavour to your desire as Zhongli pins you against your desk, breathing ragged into your ear as he wastes no time, setting a brutal pace from the start that has papers and stationary clattering off your desk.
“So tight” he hisses “how long has it been since you’ve had a good fucking?”
Something about Zhongli swearing like that feels so wrong, but oh, so right in the moment.
For a moment, paperwork and meetings are the furthest thing from your mind as Zhongli shoves you even further onto your desk, free hand hiking your hips up so he can slam into you all the harder, the only sounds emanating within your study are the wet slapping of skin, and your cries of ecstasy.
He’s not gentle, and deep, deep down, you’re glad for it.
You needed this, spending every damn day for the last five years telling everyone else what to do? You needed this…loss of control.
Much like everything else in the last six months, Zhongli knew exactly what you needed, when you needed it, and before you even realised you needed it.
“Whats the matter? Nothing to say?” He grunts into your ear as he grinds himself so deep into you, you’re seeing stars. “You’re always so talkative…”
You can only moan pathetically in response, eyelids fluttering as he fucks you down into the table, his words are harsh, and humiliating, but all they do is draw your orgasm closer, barely even registering what he’s saying.
Your orgasm hits you like a freight train, one moment you’re seeing stars as your butler bullies his massive cock into you, the next minute your world turns white.
—
“Shh, try not to move…I wasn’t gentle with you.” Zhongli’s tone is back to being kind and gentle after…how many orgasms did he just force you through? You’d lost count…all you know was that it had still been light out when he’d first shoved you down…now as he passes by a window with you cradled gently in his arms, it was pitch black outside.
Gentle lips press to your temple as he perches on the edge of the bathtub, holding you on his lap with one arm while he reaches over to get the water started. Wetting a washcloth to clean away a good portion of the mess beforehand.
Your body aches, but in the best possible way. You feel…breathless and comfortable, fuzzy.
You wince as he lowers you into the hot water, your muscles tensing at the sudden heat before relaxing again. Zhongli watches you with a soft look. Even coming off the back end of some amazing sex, he still somehow managed to look stupidly put together, if not even more alluring with his lack of suit jacket; it had been abandoned sometime during round… three you think? One moment it was on, the next moment, you’re being pressed onto your back, the jacket is gone, and he’s rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows and you’re at his mercy.
The lip of a water bottle presses to your lips, his other hand gently supporting the back of your head as you drink.
“How do you feel?” he asks once you’ve drunk your fill for now, like that switch that had turned him from the kind and courteous butler you had known to….whatever that zhongli was, had never flipped at all.
Despite this, you smile at him.
“I feel like…I need to ask you to do that again more often, Zhongli.”
To his credit, your ever-so-handsome butler laughs. It’s a warm, hearty sound, one that fills you with no small amount of joy.
“I am here to serve your every beck and call, I’m sure I can work this into the schedule.”
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summary: caught between the rivalry of two gods, you, a priestess of osial, are sent to the newly founded liyue harbor during a festival honoring their deceased to add another body for the people to celebrate and mourn—none other than their god himself, morax.
genre: archon war au
warnings: fem!reader, reader is a priestess of osial, reader used as a pawn between osial and morax, heavy power imbalance so could be read as dubcon (gods vs mortal), reader wears a dress, sacrilege + desecration of the dead??? (osial fucks reader in his own temple on a throne that he built from the bones of old gods), osial is manipulative trying to get reader to agree to kill morax, mentions of breeding, outdoor sex (morax), semi-public sex (osial & morax), biting (osial & morax), morax grabs reader by the neck but not enoughto hurt, unprotected sex (osial & morax)
notes: god this wasn’t supposed to have any osial in it but i saw a fanart that @/galair made friday night and it consumed my mind body and soul. no monsterfucking or tentacles this time 💔 i’m not confident enough in writing that yet, perhaps next time — this is long, and i had a lot of fun writing it, so as always reblogs for boost are appreciated
The sand of the beach of the Guyun Forest was cool beneath your feet, you kept your breath steady as you waited for the telltale sign from Osial of what today would bring--storms or clear skies, still waters or rapid currents, would it be a day at sea for the people of Guyun Forest? Or would it be a day locked to the land?
The sun broke slowly over the distant horizon, casting a glow over the unusually calm waters--the God of the vast sea of clouds was in a good mood today, you realized, today would be a productive day at sea.
You lingered, an eerie feeling sweeping over you just for a moment--as if you should wait for something. But nothing happened, the sea remained still, the sun steadily rising in the distance, the gentle breeze brushing against your skin and ruffling your dress. You exhaled, turning away to make your way back to the temple so you could give up your offerings, to give thanks for a merciful day at last.
The storms had been overwhelming for the past two weeks, a declaration of anger, war even, against the god who had risen to power south of Mount Tianheng in Osial’s territory--Morax, the God of Geo, the only god remaining in the nearby territory that could rival Osial for power, surpass him, even.
You pushed the thought from your head--it was sacrilege, heresy to doubt Osial’s strength. He had proven his power time and time again in his war to conquer the Sea of Clouds and its shore--a war that he had won with ease all the while protecting the people of Guyun Forest, ensuring that they did not get caught up in the conflict between the gods.
But you couldn’t help the nerves that crept through you--the reminder of the stone lances that towered into the sky on the borders of the Guili Plains, weapons of war that had slain gods and destroyed towns. Osial was strong, you had to remind yourself again.
But-
Your thoughts paused as you felt the waters creep so far into the shore that it swept beneath your feet, gentle and slow, as if trying to get your attention. You turned your head over your shoulder, breath drawing sharp as you recognized the figure that had appeared standing waist-deep in the water, watching you carefully.
Osial emerged from the water, expression lax and deep blue hair tumbling past his shoulders down to his waist. You swore that no air reached your lungs, gaze averting down to the ground at the sight of him. You knelt down, the sand damp and sticking to your knees.
You didn’t dare look up even as he approached, not until he was standing right in front of you, fingers grazing your chin before his grip tightened, tilting your head up and forcing you to look at him.
“Lord Osial,” your voice came out as little over a breath, wavering--you wondered if he had felt your doubts, sensed your lack of faith, but Osial was a prideful god and he did not seem to be angry. Looks are deceptive, you thought to yourself, the sea can look calm while the rip currents beneath could drown the strongest swimmer, and Osial is the epitome of the sea.
His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, tracing it, and your eyes fluttered shut at the feeling--it took all of your self-control to force your eyes back open, looking up at him through your lashes. Osial had an ethereal sort of beauty about him, ever-bored and unimpressed, eyes that reflected the deepest parts of the sea, his skin was smooth to the touch and his nails were sharp, weapons in itself, but he was always gentle with you… at least in situations like this.
“You do not think I can defeat Morax,” your world stilled as he finally addressed you, words so soft-spoken that you barely even heard him. His touch was gentle, and his words were soft, but he was angry--the blues of his eyes swirled like a vortex forming deep in the sea.
“My L-” you tried to explain yourself but you faltered under his gaze, lips parting and closing as you tried to come up with some sort of explanation for your doubt--lying to Osial would do nothing but draw his ire further. To wound his pride and then to lie to his face as if he wouldn’t know… It was like asking for the sea to swallow you whole.
“Come.”
Osial’s hand dropped from your face and you felt cold as he swept past you to walk toward his temple. You didn’t move for a second, staring ahead at the open sea as you processed his words before you scrambled to your feet, following behind him. No thoughts were running through your head as you followed the god into his temple--the air was damp, cool enough to have you shivering, but Osial paid no mind, his body immune to the weaknesses mortals dealt with.
He paused as the two of you entered a large room, an altar situated in the center where you made your offerings, a large throne made of an odd material that you had never quite been able to figure out was.
Osial didn’t speak for a moment, shifting to stand behind you, chest pressed against your back. You let out a shaky puff of air when you felt his hands come to your biceps, holding you in place and forcing you to look forward toward the throne. His fingers were long and lithe, smoothing against your bare skin.
“Do you know what this place was before it became my temple?” Osial’s lips brushed your ear as he spoke, breath warm and so dizzying that you could barely bring yourself to answer.
“Yes,” you breathed out, trying to hold yourself steady, stop your knees from giving out. “It was your seat of power before the war began, and during the beginning of it.”
Osial hummed, pleased with your answer, and your head buzzed at the thought of satisfying the god, a light-headed feeling that had your knees weak. Osial did not pull away though, evidently not finished with his questioning. “Do you think I am a kind god, priestess?”
You froze, head spinning at the question--was it a trick? Would he be insulted if you called him kind? Would he be insulted if you called him cruel? How do you respond?
“You are kind to your followers, Lord Osial,” you said softly, trying desperately to hide the anxiety you felt over whether or not your answer would anger him.
Osial made a noise in the back of his throat, akin to a laugh. “Good answer,” he said quietly, and you wondered if that had been a test--if it had, you had a feeling that you passed, relaxing under his touch.
But only for a second, because in an instant, Osial was gone. Instead of standing behind you, he was now in front of you, lounging back on the pale throne, watching you carefully. Your breath caught as he leaned forward, robes hanging off his shoulders loosely, fingers interlocked between his knees.
“Do you think I won the war for the sea through diplomatic means?” The amusement that might have begun to form in Osial’s tone was gone, replaced by something cold that had a shiver running down your side. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for you to answer.
You shook your head, throat spasming as you tried to force the words from your throat. “No,” you finally said. “I don’t.”
“Do you know what this throne is made of?”
Your mouth dried, confusion flooding your system as your gaze dragged down to the throne he was sitting on before you looked back up at him. He was waiting for a response, expression closed off and unfriendly. You shook your head but Osial only tilted his head to the side, waiting for you to voice your answer out loud.
“I don’t,” you said, voice hoarse.
“I built this throne out of the bones of the old gods I slaughtered at the beginning of the war,” your ears rang as he spoke--his voice smooth and silken, calm as if he hadn’t desecrated the bodies of gods after killing them. You stared at him, processing the words slowly, waiting for him to continue but he did not. “Morax encroached on my territory. The land south of Mount Tianheng was rightfully mine, I killed the former God of the Sea and piked his head on the Chihu Rock.”
You didn’t speak, even if you wanted to speak, you weren’t sure what you would say.
“And yet you still think I’ll fall to Morax,” Osial murmured, observing you. You shook your head, opening your mouth to deny the accusation but Osial’s expression left no room for argument. “You do. You don’t think I can sense what my priestess is thinking?”
My, he said it so fondly, in a way that made you feel warm despite the cool air within the temple.
“Come,” another order--your body moved on autopilot as you made your way toward him, the stone of the temple was cold beneath your feet and only got colder as you drew closer to Osial, to the throne.
You paused right in front of him, wondering if you should kneel or bow your head but Osial spoke again before you could.
“I said come,” his voice was sharper and your brows furrowed as you tried to figure out what he meant. He had leaned back in his throne again and it only took him glancing down at his lap once for you to realize what he meant. Your lips parted in shock, fingers trembling at your sides--your teeth scraped against your tongue, a warm feeling building in your lower stomach as you realized what exactly he wanted.
Your body itched to move forward but you hesitated, and you wouldn’t have if he hadn’t just told you what the throne he was sitting on was made of. On the throne made of… there was a lump in your throat that you couldn’t quite swallow, be it from anxiety or the prospect of what was to come
Osial watched you, eyes lidded and heavy, expression not having shifted once from the cool indifference. You took in a deep breath, legs shaking beneath you as you moved forward. Your face burned in embarrassment, chest tight and not even daring to breathe as you shifted onto his lap. You were careful not to touch him, not until he explicitly gave you permission to, but your thighs were tense and trembling on either side of his, your nails dug into the arms of the throne, trying to keep yourself steady.
Osial hummed and at once, something pressed against your back, knocking you off balance. Your hands flat against his chest as you fell forward against him. Your heart was erratic, face pressed against his shoulder and body flush to his--you could feel him pressed up against your thigh, and you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, you could already feel his gaze on you.
“Look at me,” he said and yet again, your body betrayed you, head tilting up so you could look at him.
Up close, Osial was even more ethereal--his eyes a mirror of the sea, skin nearly glowing against the morning sun shining through the large windows of the temple, his hair felt neatly on either side of his face down to his hips, you were careful not to accidentally pull it when you shifted. Beneath his thin robes, his body was littered with battle scars you had become well acquainted with. Even covered, you knew you’d be able to trace each and every one.
“Why is it that you doubt me?” he asked, but you couldn’t even hope to speak as his hands trailed up and down your thighs before slipping between them. You bit back a whimper as his fingers dipped between your folds. You should be embarrassed at how wet you were already but Osial was pleased, you could tell that much from the glint that had appeared in his eyes.
“I-I do not doubt you, Lo-” you tried to say but you faltered when his grip on one of your thighs tightened, just enough to silence you.
“Do not lie to me, priestess,” he said, and there was a thick feeling in your throat that made you incapable of pushing out any words. Priestess, he called you, and a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if Osial even knew your name--you adored him, he was your god, your lover, but what were you to him?
Nothing, a voice whispered in your head, a tool, a pet.
He favored you enough to lay with you, you wanted to argue, lips parting in a silent moan as you felt the tip of Osial’s cock slip against your cunt. And he lay with you not just once or twice, he came back frequently enough so that there was never a time his marks weren’t decorating your body, bruises from where his fingers gripped just a bit too hard, bite marks from his sharpened teeth and nails.
Osial was a kind god to his followers but he was a cruel lover, albeit unintentionally, you liked to believe. You figured all gods were to their mortal lovers—unaware of their limits, apathetic to them, focused on their own pleasure and release.
“You worry for me… what would you prefer then?” Osial’s tone took on a mocking lilt, nipping at the underside of your jaw as you panted, nails clawing at his loose robes as he held your hips to bring you down on his cock. Tears stung your eyes as you tried to get used to the feeling of him filling you up. This wasn’t the first time you had laid with the god, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last, but you swore every time he pushed himself into you felt like the first--you could never get used to it. “Bear my children? Give me half-gods to fight at my side?”
A long whine escaped your lips, body shaking as Osial’s nails dug into your waist, surely drawing blood, grinding you down on his cock. He was deep, too deep inside of you, your head felt fuzzy and you couldn’t think of anything but the feeling of his cock stretching you out.
“Is that what you want?” You weren’t entirely sure what he was asking. Want, want, you wanted him, you wanted him fully and completely, in every possible way. “... or would you rather something else?”
You tilted your head back as Osial’s lips trailed down your neck, leisurely and meticulous. Your nails dug into his biceps but Osial didn’t seem to care, more focused on rolling your hips against his, fucking you at a slow, agonizing pace. You couldn’t help but notice even in your half-fucked out state that Osial was being more careful than usual--his teeth were not marking up your neck as they usually did.
“Would you rather that you, yourself, be the one to kill Morax?”
You jolted at his words, like a splash of cold water. Your eyes widened and your lips parted as you pulled back to ask what he meant but you didn’t get the chance. Instead, Osial brought you down hard on his cock and your eyes knocked back as you felt his tip brush so deep inside you that it felt like your body was on fire, splitting open on his cock.
One of his hands slipped behind your head, fisting your hair and tilting your head back down to face him. His eyes were lit up with something you couldn’t quite place in your haze, searching yours as he looked up at you. His lips brushed yours, breath hot and dizzying as it mingled with your own, “Is that what you want? You want to become a god-slayer, priestess?”
He spoke your title with a sort of reverence that had you crying out, nails dragging red lines against his arms, back arching and body spasming in his hold as you came all over his cock. He didn’t stop after you finished to give you a second to recuperate, he never did. Instead, he brought you down faster, harder. The lewd, slapping sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppy sound of his cock driving in and out of your cunt echoed throughout his temple--if any of the other priestesses came by the temple to give offerings to Osial, they would know very well what was happening within there before they even laid eyes on their god fucking his high priestess.
His grip on your hair tightened again to make you look down at him and your body was all but limp in his hold already--he had never taken you in this position before, always preferring to take you from behind, and somehow everything felt more intense, overwhelming in a way that your body couldn’t handle.
“Some say that if a mortal is to kill a god, they can take his place,” Osial breathed out, lips dragging from the corner of yours down to your jaw, to the spot behind your ear that always had you weak. “Is that what you want? To stand at my side as my goddess? To rule over the sea and land together?”
You sobbed, not even fully processing his words as you nodded, you wanted more but you weren’t even sure if you could handle more. Osial’s hands felt as if they were everywhere, sliding up and down your sides, squeezing at your breasts, flicking over your nipples. His lips dipped down from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, tongue tracing the crevice, teeth grazing the bone.
Your vision flashed dark--you were cumming again, you realized, you weren’t even sure if you had stopped cumming to begin with, the feeling of Osial’s cock was simply too much. You could feel his breath against your skin, hot, heavy, the telltale sign that he was close, the closest thing you would get to a warning.
You could barely hear the low grunt that caught in the back of his throat as he grinded his hips up into you, eyes rolling back as his cock twitched inside of you. You felt warm, full, too warm and too full as he spilled his cum deep inside of you, biting down hard on your shoulder. His sharp teeth dug into the scar on your shoulder that he had left the first time he had laid with you--a way to mark you as his and his alone.
You were still trying to recover from your high when you felt Osial shift beneath you, you shivered at the feeling of his cock moving inside of you, biting back a whimper, walls fluttering around him, sensitive from your orgasms.
Your eyes were still shut even as Osial cupped your cheek, you leaned into his touch before you let your eyes flutter back open, eyes meeting his--they were dark, a sort of emotion swirling beneath them that was unsettling. Your eyes trailed down between your bodies, faltering when you noticed that he was holding something, a dagger
“What is this?” you asked quietly, eyes tracing the blade that Osial was twirling in his hand--it was made of an odd material, one that looked suspiciously like the throne beneath the two of you. You looked up at the god questioningly, when he didn’t respond right away. He was studying you and you weren’t sure how you felt about it.
“The bones of the dead gods of the sea,” Osial explained after a moment. “The power to kill a god.”
---
“In two weeks' time, there will be a festival in the newly founded Liyue to honor Morax’s fallen adeptus, Skybracer.”
Liyue Harbor was larger than you expected. Your tongue felt swollen in your mouth as you looked around--you had known it was big, you could see it lit up at night from the southernmost island in the Guyun Forest, but it was different seeing it in person. The buildings were twice as tall as the houses in Guyun and the streets were bustling in a sort of way that had you anxious. There were too many people and too little room.
“Morax will be at the festival--surrounded by his own people and the adepti, he will let his guard down. I knew him well enough before the war to know this.”
Let his guard down, you thought to yourself, eyes drifting around the streets, following up to where the crowds grew denser, soldiers lining the streets leading up to where Morax sat upon his throne watching the celebrations below, the adepti scattered around the general area on high alert.
A resentful feeling grew in you at the sight of Morax, lounging back on the throne donning a white hooded robe. The people traversing the streets were forced to walk around you as you stared at the god from a distance. He looked bored, apathetic even, as his gaze drew across the streets--exuding a sort of arrogance that only a god could so casually.
“You will have to find a way to get him alone.”
Alone. Reality was beginning to set in on you, the chatter and music around you becoming a distant hum, muted compared to your heartbeat pounding in your ears--a city of five-thousand people and over a dozen adepti, and you had been sent to slay their god on the night they commemorate their fallen comrade.
Had you been handed a death sentence?
Did it matter?
The logical part of your brain held up a weak argument when confronted with the rest of you, loyal to Osial, willing to lay down your life at just a single command. He was your god, and if he wanted you to die for him, then so be it. But he did not ask you to die, he asked you to kill his enemy, he asked you to live, to take Morax’s godhood and stand by his side for the rest of eternity.
Take his godhood, a myth, no one knows if it’s true. If you succeed, you’ll be stoned to death by the people of Liyue for killing their god.
If you succeed. You did not want to know what fate waited for you at Morax’s hands if you failed.
A brutal god, ruthless and violent, Morax was the reason that the war had escalated so severely in southern Teyvat. By the time news reached the Guyun Forest of the battle that laid waste to the Guili Assembly, ravaging the plains and slaying the Goddess of Dust, Morax had already settled his people into the shores of Osial’s territory and gone off to wage war against the remaining gods of the land.
It was he who forced Osial’s hand, choosing to settle in his lands rather than those of one of the slain gods. The Sea of Clouds and the land of Liyue could have been two separate territories, ruled by two separate gods but Morax chose the one area that would draw the ire of Osial--a tyrant and warmonger he was, but Morax was no fool, he knew exactly what he was doing when settled his people in Osial’s territory.
A particularly loud cheer pulled you from your thoughts, bringing you back to awareness. You let out a breath, trying to quell the spiraling resentment and anger--but your heart leapt in your throat when you noticed that Morax’s gaze was no longer absently wandering his people.
Was he looking…
Amber eyes were trained steadily in your direction, a cold feeling settled in your gut.
… at you?
You swore that you could see his lips curl up into a smirk, even at this distance, but before you could figure out if it was just a figment of your imagination, it was gone--replaced by the lethargic expression that had painted his face before.
You wrote it off as your mind playing tricks on you, nerves over what you were here to do getting to your head. Shaken, you turned away, intent on going to find a stand to distract yourself with until you could figure out how to conjure an opportunity to separate Morax from the crowds of people and his adepti.
---
“You are not from here.”
You hesitated as you took the last bite of the rice bun you were eating, swallowing it as you stared ahead, deciding whether or not you should turn around to face the man that had spoken to you.
Should you lie? Claim that you had come with the settlers from the Guili Assembly--there would be no way for them to prove you weren’t but… maybe it would be better to claim to be a refugee from the west, the Tianqiu Valley civilization, or even further west, where your ancestors hailed from--the Hypostyle Desert of Sumeru.
You let out a breath, having come to a decision as you turned around to face whoever approached you. As you turned, you noticed distantly that all of the Liyue residents who had been near you had backed away, and the street was now suspiciously quiet.
Frowning and with an answer on the tip of your tongue, the words died as your eyes fell upon a familiar white robe, the gold decorations glittering underneath the lights of the lanterns. Your gaze drew up from the long white robe, eyes meeting empty amber ones that peered down at you in a way that had your blood running cold.
Your mouth dried, your throat tightened. Bow, you told yourself, bow, you must bow. But your body wouldn’t cooperate, the thought of kneeling to any god other than your own made you feel sick to your stomach. You tried to force your knees to buckle but they were locked, your own body damning you.
“Where are you from?” Morax’s voice was a low drawl, as if he were amused by the situation, and once again resentment brewed as you stared at the man. You couldn’t help but notice how the people did not seem shocked at the sight of Morax walking among them, you wondered if it was a common occurrence.
“The west,” you finally said, voice tenser than you meant for it to be, not as respectful as it should have been--but Morax did not look incensed, even if his people were agape at your tone. “Tianqiu Valley.”
“A follower of Khienar,” Morax noted. “How fascinating.”
You wondered if you had spoken wrong but Morax did not appear to be suspicious of you. As if he could read the question on your face, wondering why it was fascinating to him, he continued. “Liyue Harbor does not often host outsiders these days,” he said. “Come.”
Morax did not wait for you to agree or disagree, and your throat closed up at the order--not quite finding the God of Geo’s words as appealing to follow as Osial’s. He walked ahead, and you hated that you knew you had to follow otherwise you would garner even more suspicion, and you hated that he knew you knew you had to follow and it was exactly why he didn’t wait to see if you would.
The arrogance of gods-
The arrogance of gods. Your world stilled as your thoughts spun, was this the opportunity-
You didn’t have the chance to dwell on the thought, you were losing sight of Morax and all you could do was rush after him--not that it was difficult, the crowds of people had parted at his arrival, making way for him to go as he pleased.
As you caught up to him, you tried to make sense of what was happening--he sought you out, was it really because he could tell that you weren’t native to Liyue Harbor or the Guili Assembly? Or was it something else? Did he know who you were, what you were sent-
“Have you tried the slow-cooked bamboo soup at the Wangshu Stand?” Morax asked suddenly, your brows furrowed as you stared at his back--his back, the knife holstered to your thigh burned, screaming at you to take the opportunity now, kill the tyrant in front of all of his people, damn your own fate, you were ready for their stones. But just as your hand twitched at your side, Morax turned his head over his shoulder to look at you.
… what?
You couldn’t even find the words to speak as you stared at Morax, barely even having processed his words--too lost in your own thoughts, at the opportunity in front of you. Bamboo soup at a stand--did you try it?
“I did not get the chance,” you finally said, and you hated how hoarse your voice sounded. Your eyes drifted around the streets, the way people whispered, stares adoring and wide-eyed. They loved him, a tyrant and warmonger, they were all just as ba-
Morax hummed, looking ahead again, “Pity. I fear the stand is closed now. It is my favorite. They attempted to show me how to make it but alas I find myself a poor chef.”
Was this a joke? You wanted to ask, but you couldn’t force the words out. He was leading you somewhere—up a stone staircase, and you could only follow numbly behind him.
Of course, they loved him, vengeful over what happened at the Guili Assembly, the death of their goddess--they wanted to exact the same fate onto every other people of Liyue so they hail the warmonger and tyrant as their hero.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to speak to a mortal from another civilization since the war broke out,” he said, and you swore--you swore--that he must know exactly who you were, how you felt, what you came to do and he was playing with you, taunting you.
“I wonder why,” you couldn’t help the spite that slipped from your mouth, the resentment simply too intense for you to bite back. Morax only looked back at you again, an odd expression on his face that you couldn’t quite decipher--not angry, but not amused. It was as if he had been waiting for you to say something like that, as if you had played right into his game.
He didn’t say anything else as you followed him up the stairs, away from the crowds of people, the chatter and cheering growing distant with each step you took. It was warmer on the mainland than it was on the Guyun Forest isles, the seabreeze not quite as strong--even as he led you up the side of Mount Tianheng, you stayed warm.
A part of you wondered if he was bringing you up there to kill you, spare his people the gory sight of your death--although you had a feeling that if they knew you were a priestess of Osial, they would drink and dance to the sight.
You wanted to ask where he was taking you, but you didn’t want to continue to test your luck, you were stuck between a rock and a hard place not knowing whether or not he knew who you were already. Every action you took made you anxious that he would figure it out if he hadn’t already.
Morax came to a step half-way up the side of Mount Tianheng--a pretty, flattened area with a few benches and a small koi pond. Alone, you recognized, you were alone with him. He had brought you somewhere where the two of you were alone.
“You will have to find a way to get him alone and only then will have the chance to drive the dagger through his heart.”
Osial’s words rang through your ears as Morax moved to stand on the edge of the mountain by the railing, looking down over Liyue Harbor. He looked over at you, eyes lidded and lashes brushing his cheek--he was waiting for you to join him at the ledge.
You did, albeit reluctantly. Your hands were wrapped around the stone railing tight, as if that would do anything to save you if Morax decided to kill you.
“Speak freely,” Morax said, and your head snapped toward him, eyeing him suspiciously, not trusting a word he said.
“So you can have my tongue for speaking out of line?” you questioned, Morax’s amber eyes glittered in an obscenely beautiful way as he looked down at you, amusement painted across his face.
“Speak freely,” he repeated, an order this time, as he turned to face you. “I want to hear the opinion of someone who is not my own people.”
You stared at him, trying to figure out if this was some sort of trap, but gods were impossible to read--their faces masks indiscernible by the average mortal--though you had a distinct feeling that if you refused, it would anger him more than if you said how you truly felt.
“You are a warmonger,” you finally said--you could no longer look at him, instead looking down at the harbor, afraid that you would be smited just as the gods who dared stand against him were. Your knuckles tight around the railing, body tense as you waited for his reaction.
“I seek order,” Morax responded after a moment, and you thought that his answer incensed you more than admission to being a warmonger.
“You seek order through war. You are a tyrant,” your voice grew sharper in your anger, taking a tone that would ordinarily be a death sentence from a god, but Morax only leaned back against the railing, arms crossed over his chest as he stared down at you.
The amusement that had been shining in his eyes was gone, replaced by a more serious expression, but he did not appear to be angry.
“I do not wish for dominion over Liyue but I cannot continue to watch the common people suffer,” Morax responded after a moment. A cool breeze danced your skin, trying to quell your rising anger but you couldn’t hold back the scoff that bubbled at your lips.
“You do not wish for dominion yet you seek out any god that can rival you to kill them,” you shot back at him. “The-”
Your words died when you felt two lithe fingers grab your chin, turning your head to the side to force you to look at him. All of the air whooshed from your lungs as you stared up at him, catching the mirthful look in his eyes, the way his lips were pulled up in an unkind smile.
“Let us make one thing clear,” Morax murmured. “There is no god that can rival me.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, taken aback by the arrogance--was it arrogance? Or just confidence--not even Osial dared to imply his enemies were weak, a sort of insult that brought bad tidings to its speaker. Morax’s hand dropped from your chin but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away.
“Continue,” he said off-handedly, your lips parted to speak but you could barely even remember where you were heading with your comment--you couldn’t even remember what had you said to make him say that, you were completely thrown off.
… seek out any god that can rival you to kill them, you remembered. Ah, that was it.
“The common people will suffer whether you kill their gods or not,” you said, and Morax made a noise in the back of his throat, one of acknowledgment as he processed your words. You let yourself look at him again--he was looking back out at the harbor again and your breath almost caught at the sight of the lanterns below reflecting in his eyes, the way his skin glowed beneath the moonlight. Morax had a different sort of beauty about him than Osial, somehow warmer, not as sharp, but far more deadly.
“Can you deny that they will be safer once the wars between gods end?” Morax questioned.
“Your people will be safer,” you responded. “What of the rest of us?”
“You will become my people,” Morax said off-handedly.
“I would rather die,” you countered too quickly to process your own words.
Morax turned his head to look at you again, amused by your words. “How familiar,” he said softly, almost too soft to pick up but you didn’t get the chance to question it before he was talking again. “You say you come from Tianqiu Valley, daughter of Khienar?”
You hesitated, only for a second, but you knew he picked up on it. “Yes,” you said.
Morax pushed away from the railing, walking behind you--slow, lax, deceivingly so. You wanted to turn around to face him but your body wouldn’t cooperate, your fight or flight instincts failing you as you froze up. You felt distinctly like a deer being hunted by a lion, cornered and unable to bring itself to try to flee.
You could hear every step as he paced back and forth behind you, the sound of his white robe dragging against the stone was soft but grating against your ears. You stared ahead, gaze trained on the southern islands of the Guyun Forest in the distance, barely visible in the dark.
Osial was out there, you tried to calm yourself, but the thought was only a distant comfort--he was too far to do anything, you were at the mercy of his enemy, at the mercy of Morax. Your pulse thrummed in your ears as Morax came to a stop behind you, you could feel his chest against your back and the nearness of him had you feeling light-headed.
He leaned down. Morax’s nose brushed the crook of your neck, he inhaled deeply, breath hot and heavy against your neck. You felt dizzy, your mind felt slow. “I can smell your god on you, priestess.”
Your heart leapt to your throat, eyes widening as your hazed out mind processed his words. You scrambled, reaching for the knife you had hidden in your inner thigh, but Morax was faster, stronger.
Your hand flew to his wrist as he grabbed you by the throat to hold you still—not hard enough to choke you or bruise you, but enough pressure that you knew it was a warning.
Try anything and I’ll crush your neck.
Your mouth was dry as Morax parted your legs, knocking your thighs apart with his knee before reaching between your legs to grab the dagger. An unwelcome, dreadful realization swept over you as Morax’s lips twisted into an amused smirk at the weapon.
“Did you really think this would be able to kill me?” Morax’s voice was low and mocking. “Perhaps a lesser god like Osial would be weak to the properties of our marrow, but it would be little more than a tickle to me.”
His arrogance made your stomach churn, and any little hope you might have had left was swept away as he tossed away the dagger, watching it clatter against the stone before sinking into the pond.
“I knew who you were and what you had planned the moment you stepped foot in my city,” Morax leaned in close, lips nearly brushing yours as he spoke. “Your god sent you to die, priestess.”
“He wouldn’t-“ you tried to protest, talk back even though you knew it wasn’t in your best interest to argue against the god. But you were going to die anyway, you realized, and you figured how else to spend your last moments than defending the god you had devoted your life to.
“But he did,” Morax murmured, a sort of faux-sympathy in his tone that made your skin crawl. “He knew I would know who you were. He knew I would play along. He knew I would be insulted enough over the situation to seek him out on his territory to fight him. He used you to try to turn the uneven tides in his favor by setting up a battle on his home ground.”
You tried to shake your head again, tears stinging at your eyes. “No,” you said, “He-”
“What did he promise you?” Morax was mocking you, he was still mocking you, you could see the mirth clear in his eyes. Your lips trembled as your nails dug into his wrist, the pads of his fingers pressing just a bit harder against the sides of your neck as he waited for you to respond. “The old wives’ tale of taking a god’s place after killing him?”
You took in a breath, sharp and shaky, choking back a sob. You couldn’t hold back the tears, cheeks wet as they spilled over.
“He did,” Your reaction was confirmation enough for the god, who brought his free hand to your face, thumb wiping away the tears that escaped. You hated how gentle he was being because you knew you wouldn’t live to see the daybreak. “How gullible. If such a thing were true, the King of Sal Terrae would be the new God of Salt, and I would have countless domains.”
You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, and you tried to look away but he didn’t let you--the grip on your neck held you steady, forcing you to look him in the eye.
“Do you see now? Osial is so threatened by the idea of me he would send his priestess to certain death just at the slightest prospect for a chance…” he trailed off, eyes flickering down to your shoulder. “His lover, even?”
Your breath caught as the fingers brushing away your tears trailed down your neck, grazing your skin before coming to trace the scar on your shoulder, the mark left behind by Osial. You let out a shaky breath, eyes fluttering shut.
Morax speaks the truth, the more logical side of yourself was arguing again, a newfound strength against the rest of you, blindly loyal and devoted to Osial. Osial knew what fate waited for you in Liyue Harbor and he still convinced you to go.
But-
There are no ‘buts’, he sent you to die, are you ready to die?
You should be, there should be no question about it--there wasn’t earlier, you knew that there was a good chance you would die being sent to Liyue Harbor when you first arrived, so why now were you faltering in front of Morax? Questioning your faith?
“I don’t want to die,” it slipped from your mouth before you could stop yourself--your voice shook, little over a breath as you spoke, the tears were building again and you were struggling to hold them back.
The hand circling your neck slid up to cup your cheek in a manner similar to the way Osial would, and despite Morax’s hand feeling foreign and unfamiliar, you still leaned into it, desperate for any sort of comfort even if it was in the hands of the god who would kill you.
“You don’t have to,” Morax said, and your eyes widened, searching the amber of Morax’s for any sign that he was being honest. “His lands, his people, his crown, I’ll show that coward of a god that everything that is his will soon be mine,” he murmured, and you could barely process his words as his thumb ran along your bottom lip. “... starting with you.”
Starting with… you?
You tried to understand what he was saying but his words went in one ear out the other, it wasn’t until he leaned in close, tilting your face up toward him that it slowly began to register. His lips brushed yours, “What is your name, priestess?”
Had Osial ever asked you that? You assumed he knew because of who he was but… he had never asked, nor had he ever used it. It was always ‘priestess’.
And you told him, voice hoarse and shaky, waiting for him to do something. He repeated your name, voice low, a soft drawl that had heat pooling in your lower stomach because of the sheer idea of a god saying your name like that.
You thought you should say something, anything, instead of standing there but Morax didn’t give you the opportunity. You let out a noise of surprise as he dipped his head down, lips brushing yours before he pressed them together more firmly. Your hands curled around his forearm and bicep, eyes fluttering shut as Morax’s hand pressed against the small of your back, holding your body flush to his.
The robe did little to hide the way his body felt against yours, you could feel each and every crevice and contour of his abdomen, the way his muscles rippled as he shifted you away from the railing to lay you back on one of the stone benches. He followed you down, body sliding on top of yours as he deepened the kiss.
Osial rarely kissed you, a part of you couldn’t help but note as your lips parted for Morax when you felt his lips prod open yours. The most Osial kissed you was when he let his lips brush yours when he leaned in close to talk to you. This was a new feeling for you, overwhelming--you had never kissed someone before, not like this.
Morax’s biceps flexed as he held himself steady above you, you hated how a whimper escaped you when Morax pulled back to kiss down your jaw. It was different, you couldn’t help but compare, it felt more intimate.
Your body was trembling and your head already felt a bit fuzzy just from his kisses. One of his hands slid between your bodies, between your legs. You gasped as his fingers grazed your panties, grazing the damp silk, the slick that had started pooling as soon as Morax had come in close proximity to you.
You could feel his lips pull up into a thin smile against your shoulder, a low huff of laughter that had a whine building in the back of your throat.
“I am the warmonger, and yet your god is the one who built a shrine of his defeated enemies,” Morax’s teeth pressed lightly over Osial’s scar and you couldn’t stop the way your entire body shivered at the feeling. “Perhaps I should slay him on his throne, grind his bones to dust until it melds with the rest and take the throne as my own too, hm?”
Your only response was a moan, looking up at him through your lashes, eyes lidded as his fingers slipped beneath your panties--soft circles over your clit, slow and meticulous, your thighs were shaking, trying to grind your hips up against his hand but Morax kept at the slow pace, enjoying the way your body responded to his touch, aching and begging for more.
“Is that what you want?” Morax asked. “After I take you, his priestess, his lover… you want me to go to the Guyun Forest and finish this?”
What did he say? Go to Guyun Forest and…
Your heart lurched, eyes widening--finish this? As in… kill Osial?
You couldn’t linger on the thought because Morax was spreading your legs, slipping down your panties and pulling off his robes and your dress. Your mouth dried at the sight, panting as your gaze drifted over his body shamelessly. Morax had a body free of any scars—a distinct contrast to the battle-scarred body of Osial’s that you were used to. The thought made your throat tight, realizing that maybe Morax had no scars simply because there was no god he fought that was strong enough to lay a blow on him.
“Let us make one thing clear. There are no gods that can rival me.”
Would Osial even stand a chance?
He sent you to die.
But you loved him, you’d always love him, he was your god and-
If you loved him, would you be sleeping with his enemy? The one you were sent to kill?
Morax’s fingers trailed down your body, between your breasts, down to your navel, your skin burned everywhere he touched. It was hard to think straight beneath his touch, remember whose you were with Morax above you, replacing Osial’s marks and touches with his own.
“Perhaps I should bring you back to him,” Morax said, and you gasped, head tilted back against the stone as you felt his tip press against your entrance. He leaned forward, cupping the back of your head and lifting it off the bench and tilting it down so you were looking down between your bodies. Your breath caught, eyes wide and throat thick at the sight of his cock--he was bigger than Osial, would it even fit? you wanted to ask but just as you tried to voice your concerns, Morax shifted his hips forward, pushing the tip of his cock inside of you at a pace that had you on the verge of tears. “Take you on his throne, on the altar you give up offerings to him… force him to watch.”
You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut, toss your head back against the bench, but Morax kept you steady and you just couldn’t draw your eyes from where the two of you were connected.
“S’not gonna fit,” you gasped, the burn was too much, leaving you hot and light-headed, he’d barely even pushed the tip in and you were certain you were on the verge of passing out. Morax ignored you, one hand grabbing your hip hard while he continued to push into you. Tears spilled over your eyes, a sob bubbling at your lips as he stretched you out, not giving you time to adjust to the size of him.
By the time he had pushed himself fully inside you, you swore you were going to split open, your entire body tense and trembling and you tried to brace yourself for the inevitable thrust of his hips as he chased his own pleasure--gods were cruel lovers, even if it was sometimes unintentional.
But it never came. Instead, Morax leaned forward, body hovering over yours as he wiped away your tears, again, he kept himself still inside you, waiting for you to calm down. And you thought it ironic, really, as you focused your gaze on his face, realizing that the barbarous Morax was treating you more gently than your own god ever did.
He rolled his slips slowly, cautiously, even, eyes tracing your face as he watched to make sure you were ready for him to move. It really didn’t take long for the painful burn to shift into a more pleasurable one, each roll of his hips had you trembling but this time in a way that had you eager for more.
It wasn’t until your hips bucked up that he let out a huff of amusement, tongue darting out to lick the stray tear rolling down your cheek before he drew his hips back and snapped them up into yours. You barely bit back a moan of his name, but he reached out to grab your cheeks, squeezing them together to get your attention
“I want to hear you,” he said, voice rough before he let go of your face, reaching down to grab one of your thighs to push it up against your chest--a new angle, deeper, Osial had never taken you in this position before, he usually preferred to take you from behind, fisting your hair as his hips snapped against your ass.
Morax pressed his lips to yours, messily, teeth nearly clashing before he kissed down your neck. The feeling of his cock dragging in and out of your cunt had you dizzy, clawing at his back for more, one leg wrapped around his waist while the other tensed in his hand.
“Feels s’good,” you cried out, writhing beneath him at the brutal pace, each thrust had his tip brushing up against your cervix, your entire body was burning, walls spasming and fluttering around his cock, sucking him in deeper every time he drew his hips back. Your jaw was slack as he shifted into a kneeling position, somehow hitting inside you deeper, harder, faster with every buck of his hips, impossibly so. “I’m gonna cum.” your voice was slurred, and your vision was blurry, you weren’t even sure if he could understand you. “I’m gonna-”
“Say my name,” Morax groaned. “Loud enough for your god to hear.”
“Morax,” you sobbed, loud--you were loud, and the sound of the two of you was loud, sloppy, messy, you wondered if his people could hear their god defiling you from the streets below. “Mo-”
Your cry of his name cut off as Morax bit down hard over the mark that Osial had left, hard enough to draw blood. Your back arched against the bench, chest pressed to his as you came all over his cock at the feeling of his teeth digging deep into your skin.
Low grunts into your neck, hips rutting into yours at a pace that had your eyes rolling back, drool pooling at the corner of your lips--he didn’t stop after you had cum and it was too much for you to handle, your vision was getting spottier and spottier with every thrust, you couldn’t hold his arms to brace yourself anymore, limp beneath him, letting the god use your body to chase his own high.
And use you he did, strong enough to hold you in place while fucking his cock deep into you, teeth still buried in your shoulder over Osial’s scar, as if he were trying to remove the very idea of him from your body and replace it with himself. He came deep inside you, filling you up and then fucking you still, fucking his cum back into you every time a bit of it leaked out.
You could barely stay conscious, you weren’t even sure if you were fully conscious. You weren’t sure how long he continued to fuck his cum back into you, you weren’t sure how many times you had cum, you weren’t sure of much of anything besides the feeling of his cock stretching you out and his cum warm and thick, stuffing you full.
Morax’s kisses were wet and messy, lips stained with your blood as he dragged them from your shoulder back up to your neck until he pressed his nose against the side of your head, panting heavy, lips brushing your ear as he spoke. “You’re mine now--my priestess, my lover, mine…. How about we go show that god exactly what he lost?”
Summary: The devil with no sin nor memory and he who has held them all for centuries.
Word Count: 21.8k (get cozy)
Tags: Neuvillette x Fem!Reader, Slow burn, Slow fic, SMUT, NSFW, Historical AU, Fantasy AU?, Reincarnation AU, cursed!neuvillette, dragon!neuvillette, reincarnated!Reader, human!reader, Fluff, a lot of fluff, Melusines doing their best to play cupid, ex-lovers to lovers, slight enemies to lovers? ANGST, he's trying his best, dragon x human dynamics, Monsterfucking (two... I have no defense), cunnilingus(long tongue), marking, size kink? breeding kink, heat, overstimulation, hate sex? kinda?, slightly unhealthy dynamics (past life), dubcon, trust issues, immortal x mortal, slightly possessive!neuvillette, slightly yandere!neuvillette, TW: mild mention of blood, TW: descriptions of drowning, sin, and sacrifice. TW: Trauma from betrayal, themes of resentment, Infertility.
Author's Note: Wanted to try out a historical fantasy from Neuvillette's pov. I struggle with fantastical settings, so overlook any world-building confusion. Mihoyo won't give me his real name, and it's eating away at my sanity. Enjoy!
Somewhere deep beneath the waves, away from the omnipotent watch of false divinity, lies a village. A bustling home carved into an outcast cove nestled under the cover of suppressive tides.
One littered with tiny houses surrounding an impressive estate modeled much like the ones seen in those novels abandoned from capsized ships.
Would you believe that such a place exists?
Decorated with curious trinkets which sunk beneath the surface which had forsaken them, kept in this cove for so long that it was challenging to remember the azure hues.
Ornaments decorating the expanse of this once lonesome cave, almost enough to conceal its true origin: A prison.
A fool sentenced to this penitentiary masquerading as a home, now affectionately named ‘Merusea Village’.
Within that attentively built estate, a looming figure stood in front of a wall lined with neatly organized novels, lilac eyes running along the titles printed along each spine.
A collection saved from watery abandonment after falling overboard by the curious hands of Melusines. Amassed throughout the years until the shelves of this humble library were without vacancy.
Stopping a finger on a spine, he decided on the novel to pass the ever-plenty time bestowed upon him. He’s aware that each book amongst these shelves has been thumbed through by him.
But with enough years, the recollection of the contents contained within each one tends to become foggy.
It's fate that the novel selected in his hands just so happens to be a collection of tales.
Humans have many strange behaviors, one might even call them traditions. One particular tradition mortals seem to indulge in often is that of storytelling.
Lilac eyes browse through the pages, refreshing himself on the tale held within its faded covers.
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There once was a lovely kingdom amidst lush pastures and fertile lands where the townspeople sang and danced under the bright sunlight.
But one day the sun disappeared, concealed behind ashen clouds that cried a lonesome hymn, plaguing the unfortunate kingdom with rain.
The origin of the rain stemmed from the lonesomeness of a great dragon of water.
Thus, to stop the rain, the king sent out a princess to the dragon, declaring that the kingdom gates wouldn’t welcome her back if rain fell from the sky. She was sent off in a white gown.
Down below a flooded loch, the princess was offered to the weeping dragon. Looking up the princess saw the sorrowful pools in the beast’s eyes.
‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, why do you cry?’ She asked.
Intrigued by the bravery of the young princess, the dragon answered: ‘Because I am lonely, I have no brethren left.’
Feeling pity the princess responded: ‘Hydro Dragon, oh Hydro Dragon, don’t cry. I will be lonely with you.’
So the princess befriended a lonesome dragon under the hymn of softening rain, with his loneliness soothed, the sun peeked back out from ashen clouds. But one day, pitiful tears fell from her eyes and the princess wept so bitterly.
The dragon could not bear seeing those tears stain her cheeks. He offered her pearls, jewels, and gold. Yet those bitter tears still fell, tainting the pristine water.
‘Beloved princess, why do you cry so bitterly?’ He implored.
‘I long to go home, I miss my kingdom,’ she revealed.
But she could not go home, for if she stepped foot away from the riverside the lonesome rain would start again. The colossal dragon could not leave the loch, but he could not bear seeing those bitter tears.
So he relented, telling the princess a secret. A secret all dragons buried deep within: His true name.
‘If you speak my name, my true name, then I can grant you one wish. But be careful, for there can only be one wish.’ The dragon whispered.
‘Do you wish to return to your kingdom, beloved princess?’ He asked.
The princess was silent for a long while, weighing the choices in her hand. She longed to return home, but she also longed to be by the side of her kind dragon.
Confident in her decision, she beckons the great dragon closer, until her lips could reach the side of his large head where his ear lay. After whispering his name, she tells the beast her wish.
‘I wish for you to become my prince, so we can return to the kingdom together, that way you won’t ever be lonely again.’
A clever wish he grants with a nod. Scales and claws shedding away until a handsome prince stood in front of her. Thus, hand in hand they returned from the loch to the warm welcome of the kingdom.
And they lived happily ever after.
----------
Ah, so it was that tale.
Judging from the age of the novel, he guesses it must be a rendition of a rendition.
Words and events twisted, embellished, and simplified. Until it became nothing more than a mere fable told to entertain the wandering minds of children.
A beloved tale of a maiden who got a dragon to give up his grand authority, stopping the flood of vengeance from drowning Fontaine.
This is what the origin of his damnation has turned into. The tales of the heroine’s feats sung and written throughout the narrative of time, passing from one generation’s lips to another’s ears.
However, he supposes this is expected of humans. It’s their tradition of storytelling, after all, mending a fallacy into a tale palatable to their conscious.
Or perhaps, these embellishments were added to compensate for the hollows caused by the frailty of mortal memory.
Patching over the holes with flowery words to distract readers from inaccuracies that were only compounded upon from the last.
Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the dragon all that well, considering that they thought the proud dragon would bow to the whims of a meek human.
Placing a secret so simply in her hands at the mere sight of tears.
Did Fontainians not realize that the land they reside on once belonged solely to dragons? How preposterous it is that a sovereign couldn’t set foot upon his own land. Or did they forget why he couldn’t?
What a naive ending, did mortals truly believe that blood and water could dwell together without consequences? That simply wishing the dragon to become a human could resolve all troubles?
To overwrite everything with a ‘happily ever after’ which never happened?
Regardless of his reservations toward such fables, the Melusines always seem eager to gather around for such stories. The towering figure lacked the conviction to deny such requests.
From down the hall approaching closer came the pitter-patter of steps, he turned his tall frame toward the direction of the sound just as a few familiar faces revealed themselves from the library entrance.
“Monsieur Neuvillette! Come quickly! A human! A human appeared!” A group of Melusines tugs on the fabric of his slacks while pointing toward the phenomenon.
A mortal in this domain? A cavern hidden deep under the land and waters where the warmth of the sun couldn’t grace. How did such a being find their way into this sanctum? It’d be best that he alleviates their worries.
“Please lead the way.” Neuvillette closes the novel, returning it to the confines of its shelf.
His swift movements in time with the melusines’ frantic patter as they made their way out from his estate.
Soon the tops of the Melusines’ cozy homes of Merusea Village came into view, as did the murmuring of a distraught crowd.
“Excuse me.” His steps made their presence known, their heads perked up to look at him before parting a path for Neuvillette.
Upon the maroon pasture of Merusea Village was a blanket of silk and woven lace, snowy fabric surrounding the still figure of a human.
Treading closer Neuvillette kneels down while reaching out a hand, weaving his fingers under the fabric which obscures the mortal’s face.
“We found her while gathering offerings from the waters … Is she…” The anxious murmuring quiets to await his verdict.
“She has a pulse,” he reveals, fingertips detecting wisps of warmth along cold skin.
It was faint, but his attentive eyes caught onto the slow movement of her chest. The snowy fabric had greedily drunk up the essence of the sea. Cursing her to sink deeper below the tides.
To leave a mortal in such a state would be too cruel of a fate.
Neuvillette moves his hand to support her covered head as his other arm gathers the damp fabric under her legs.
Carefully, he stands back to his full height, cradling her limp body in his hold. An audience of fretful gazes follow his motions.
“Do not fret, she only requires some rest and a change of clothing, I’ll take her to my abode. Could you gather some cloth to dry down her body?” Neuvillette’s melodic voice just barely above a whisper, so as not to stir the figure in his arms.
His expression softens to offer the compassionate creatures some reassurance. With firm nods the Melusines scatter, determination alight in their bright irises as they sought the necessary items to care for their newfound guest.
The dampness of the heavy fabric seeps into his own attire as Neuvillette turns the knob to grant him entry into his abode.
Quietly ambling through the spacious halls, the master bedroom came into view. Neuvillette lays the limp form upon his sheets, ensuring that her head rests slowly upon the soft pillows.
Just as her figure sinks into the mattress, a chorus of metallic clinks catches his attention. Glancing down her body his lilac eyes discover the origin.
A pair of silver shackles encased around her ankles, the unforgiving metal digging into defenseless flesh.
Gingerly, he takes one ankle into his grasp to better observe the shackles.
This time he couldn’t fight against the deep frown as it debuted upon his lips. His eyes hone on how tightly those heavy chains were bound along the flesh.
Soon the unforgiving metal crashes down to the floor, he soothes the freed skin with his thumb while checking for any other possible wounds.
Lilac eyes travel up to her face for any sign of discomfort, only to be reminded that her face was concealed behind a shroud of lace.
How uncomfortable it must be to have a cold piece of fabric to cover one’s face. Neuvillette places her ankle back onto the bed.
His large hands took hold of the damp veil to lift it from her resting frame, revealing to his draconic eyes for the first time their face.
The veil stays suspended in the air as his hands cease all motion. Hardened gaze tracing over her features, the curve of her cheeks, the slope of her nose, and the structure of her face.
Repeated details he had long seared into his consciousness.
Within those mortal tales, there’s a wide variety of beasts and fearsome creatures. Dragons were depicted as such omnipotent beasts. But there’s a monster all other beast falls secondary to, the devil.
They didn’t possess the sharpest talons nor the largest fangs. No, what made them so horrifying is that they dawned the most enchanting faces.
He’s staring at it right now. The face of the devil who deceived him.
Those gods must be laughing at him right now. Those false idols, with their capricious fate and whims, who once must’ve shook hands with you to carry out their schemes all those years ago.
The scheme which imprisons him here in this humiliating form of the mortal creatures those false idols loved so much.
Yes, a devil, that must be what you are. For how did a meek mortal trick a dragon who once held the full authority of the tides?
His chest expands with a deep breath before a long exhale leaves him. Ah, yes that must be why this white gown has appeared before him again. He removes the senseless scrap of lace, checking once more for signs of discomfort before he turns his body away.
Finding himself outside the threshold of his bedroom as he closes the door behind him. He should wait here for the Melusines to arrive with a change of clothes and towels.
It’d buy him enough time to steadily return the tempestuous loch to a subdued ripple in a pond. His chest expands once more with a deep inhale.
A second cruel rendition unfolding once more in the narrative of time.
The crisp turn of a page resounds through the room. Lilac eyes glanced up from the text every so often to watch the steady rises and falls of your chest from his vantage point of a wooden chair pulled up to the bedside.
Heavy lashes still shut just as they were the day your drenched figure was pulled from the tides by merciful hands.
The journey to wisdom is lined with mistakes, mistakes providing teachings one must ingrain into their very being if they don’t wish to repeat such blunders again.
Just as how a burn seared into skin is a forever reminder that fire indeed burns indiscriminately.
A scar ingrained deep within him cries out for Neuvillette to withdraw from the fire which scorned him so long ago.
Alas, it’s duty which has sat him down beside your sleeping form. You’re the first guest this cove has seen in a long time, thus bringing you under the responsibility of the host, Neuvillette himself.
A stir brings his stoic gaze back away from his thoughts. Your chest rises with a long inhale as leaden lashes flutter open.
The cadence of your breaths begins to rise as more of your senses return to you. Fatigue evident in each slow drag of breath.
“Ah, I see you’ve awoken.” Neuvillette observes.
Your muscles momentarily forget their fatigue as your head snaps toward the owner of the deep voice. Eyes now wide and alert.
“My apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.” He casts a glance toward the steaming bowl on the nightstand.
He could feel the weight of your stare travels up his figure. Do you perhaps remember him? Can you recall his lush snowy locks streaked with azure? Irises that held an all too familiar hue, a multitude of lilac shades much like a field of lavenders.
Does this ‘you’ remember the dragon you fooled?
“W-who are you?...” Your gaze was too cowardly to meet his.
Ah, have the cycle of death and rebirth washed those sins and memories?
The tonality of your trembling voice filled with puzzlement instead of recognition. He should’ve expected this much.
This you is nothing more than a stranger who shares the face of a devil.
“Where am I?” Another question leaves those lips in the absence of a response.
Just give him a moment, allow him to pacify the surging torrent within so their bitterness doesn’t seep into his words.
“You’re in our village!” A cheery voice joins the conversation.
Two pairs of eyes land upon a short figure with a pair of pastel horns. You blink once, then twice, then slowly thrice. Inquisitive eyes stared right back at you.
“W-what… are you?” Instinct commanding your body to retract deeper into the sheets.
A sharp cough halts your actions, drawing your attention back to the man as he lowers his hand down from his lips.
“She’s a Melusine, they prefer to be addressed using she/her pronouns,” he elucidates, an ever so subtle chastise in his tone.
“Oh…” You advert your gaze again, shame creeping onto your cheeks from your unintentional discourtesy.
A few breaths of silence follow, he observes you studying everything but the two figures just beside the bed.
Your fingers soothing over the soft cotton nightgown against your skin, a change from that restrictive and ornate dress.
“We, Melusines, helped you change out of that wet dress. Big sister Sedene said you’d get sick if we left you in that.”
It looks like your diverted gaze wasn’t as subtle as you originally thought. Sheepishly you extend your gratitude.
“Thank you…” Your words draw out, a brow quirked as your stare remained on her short form.
“Kiara!” She points to herself with a mitten hand.
“Thank you, Kiara.” You finish.
Her mittened hand then gestures to the towering man beside her.
“This is Monsieur Neuvillette! He’s the one who carried you here,” she announces.
“T-thank you, Monsieur Neuvillette.” You could only gather the courage to glance at the wall behind him.
“Just Neuvillette is fine,” his tone melodic and calm. “Are you able to sit up?”
Nodding your head, you attempt to fight through the fatigue of your muscles. Neuvillette and Kirara offer their assistance, his firm hands guiding your body up as Kirara adjusts the pillows to support your back.
Once you were situated, he reached for the bowl placed down earlier. A light clink sounds out from a spoon clattering about the porcelain dish. You glance at the contents, noting the clear amber broth.
“This should be kind on your stomach while providing you with some much-needed hydration and nutrients.” He holds out the soup.
A quivering hand attempts to reach up for the bowl, only for muscles to lose to fatigue as your arm limply falls back down to your side. Your strength has yet to return.
Another clink from the spoon resounds in the room as it gets taken into the grasp of an attentive hand. He holds out a spoonful of the warm soup, but your lips remain shut as a skeptical gaze meets his.
“Please forgive this inconvenience, but it’s best that you eat something to regain your strength.” The spoon remains unmoving in his hand.
There’s a rumbling stir within him. A voice snarls into his ear, interrogating him as to why his hand is feeding the very devil who once bit it.
“If you don’t eat you won’t get better.” Kiara’s eyes are riddled with concern as she observes your sealed lips.
That was his rebuttal to that snarl.
The Melusines simply don’t wish to see a human in such a pitiful state. Blissful in their ignorance of events that conspired long before their birth.
Dignity overpowered by the guilt of seeing such pure eyes marred with worry.
Soon your lips part, accepting the spoonful of broth delicately offered by him. After he observes you swallowing the first sip, Neuvillette holds out another spoonful. You part your lips again.
Neuvillette overrides the clamorous warnings of his instincts with the duty of being a ‘good host’, bringing another sip to your delicate lips.
With a regular diet of warm broth with servings of Bulle Fruit on the side, you were soon able to pick up the spoon yourself. The fatigue that plagued your bones finally leaves, allowing you to support your body off the mattress which had your shape imprinted into it.
The Melusines, seemingly born infatuated with humanity, would often gather about your bed.
They were curious about you just as you were about them. To them, you’re the creature from those fairytales he’s read them.
In exchange for your recollections of warm Summer days and descriptions of lush lilac fields swaying in a gentle breeze, they reveal more about this village.
About how the estate you were currently residing in was refurbished by their own-mittened hands, taking inspiration from the various books depicting what human abodes looked like.
The beds, drapes, and even rugs are all arranged by them to create a lovely abode. A drastic change to the worn and rampaged shell it once was before their meddling.
Perhaps if he never filled their naive minds with those tales, they wouldn’t be enamored with you and humanity.
Or maybe it’s the vibrance of your smile that drew their naive souls closer. A warmth like a flickering candlelight beckoning a moth closer.
What are the odds that the hands of fate stayed so faithful to the details of a heroine from so long ago?
From your image to your bewitching mannerisms, and alluring voice, they’re all identical replicas. You and the ‘devil’ from that tale.
Wisdom from a lesson learned long ago, he must not repeat the same mistake. He must not be enchanted by the same flame which scorned him. He must ensure a breadth between you and him, just as those tiresome voices call for.
However, Neuvillette understands he has a responsibility as a host. Thus, he regularly checked on your condition, then when you were well enough to stretch your legs he accompanied you on strolls. Maintaining a respectable distance away.
He guided you through the marble halls of the estate, showing the library and bath which were yours to access whenever you wanted.
Rooms illuminated with the muted glow of luminescence gems and pearls. Water sourced from a hidden freshwater spring.
Impassive eyes observe yours as you look in awe at the facilities and commendations hidden deep under the tides. Were they comparable to the ones you’ve encountered back on the surface?
This estate, these wide stone halls, those pearls and jewels once scattered about, were all made just to please the bitter tears of a mortal. Perhaps his first attempt was too subpar to quell the longing to return to the sunlight.
But gauging from the glimmer reflecting off your eyes, it seems the Melusines attempt was satisfactory at least.
Today’s stroll took you outside of the estate, Neuvillette accompanying you about a routine walk, watching from behind as your eyes scan the dim realm.
The lanterns lining the path of Melusine's home grace the maroon pastures and rocky walls in place of the faint wisps of sunlight offered by the depths of the sea.
Very much expected for a village beneath the waves and earth. Were you reminiscing about the warm grace of the sun you felt up there?
It’s not fair to compare the vast sky of the surface to their cavern hidden away from the eyes of the mortals, perhaps even the divine themselves.
“Monsieur Neuvillette?” You began today’s attempt at a conversation.
“Yes?” He hums in acknowledgment.
He keeps sentences brief, but informative. Counters to your attempts at conversation.
“I’m aware this might sound strange, but is there a dragon down here?” Turning back to face him.
His strides stop as a lull of silence falls over the both of you. The weight of his unshaken gaze upon your shoulders caused them to tense up.
Your hands find each other for comfort under his oppressive stare as he awaits the reason behind this odd inquiry.
“W-well you see, Fontaine has been having awful weather for years now. Saltwater ruining crops and persistent heavy rain, it’s because the Hydro Dragon is crying from his loneliness. I was selected and offered as his bride, to stop the rain, that’s what The Oratrice instructed,” you babble out.
“So…do you know where he is?” Sheepishly you glance up.
The lilac hues of his eyes connect with yours as his lips remain unmoving. Staring into your eyes as he contemplates what you have just revealed to him. Your hands fumble together as you await his response.
“So humans are still telling that local legend…” He sighs.
He has to rein it back. The torrent which threatens to brew within him. Deep breaths to remind himself about the nature of mortals.
Humans are fickle and meek creatures who constantly yearn for something divine to worship, a figurehead to guide them in the turbulence of life.
When faced with hardship and destitution, they believe such concepts to be punishment from above.
Thus, they invent traditions to appease those false idols. Going to great lengths in attempts to pacify those unseen forces, even if it meant sacrificing one of their own.
Perhaps this was the trait of mortals that made them so favored by the usurpers, their naive devotion feeding into the greed of selfish gods.
Maybe that’s why those false idols uprooted the land that belonged to dragons.
“I wonder just how far that fable has spread by now,” he sighs again.
His lashes flutter shut in exasperation as a huff leaves him. It was a moment before they flutter back open to hone in on you. There’s no use in keeping his identity from you any longer.
“Do I seem lonely in your eyes?” Baritone voice steady and low.
No sounds fall from your agape lips as your eyes reexamine his features, this time shamelessly ogling the peculiar details you’ve brushed off previously.
Do you notice it now? How his ears were a bit too pointed, or those two particular cerulean strands of ‘hair’ poking out from his snowy locks.
As you study the specifics of his eyes, do you now comprehend the sharp dark pupils that cut through the multitude of lilac shades? Much like a shadow cutting through a field of lavenders.
“You’re the Hydro Dragon,” you deduce.
He nods in confirmation. Only causing your eyes to scan over him again as your mind reels back from this revelation.
In those stories you’ve read back on the surface, how did they depict him? As a towering scaled beast with fangs and claws? Are you wondering why he’s not matching that description?
“I’m aware that my current shape might not convey such a presence, ” he answers your unspoken question.
He fights for his lips to remain stoic, not allowing the weight of a frown to pull them down. You don’t know, you don’t need to know, he reminds himself.
A detail excluded from the pages of that tale, the ‘princess’ would only ever look at him, would only ever smile at him when a dragon took on this shape. A form which mirrors humans.
In fact, she was so fond of this human shell of his that she cursed him to dwell within it for the rest of eternity.
Neuvillette takes another deep breath, quelling the stir once more. You look like you had more questions.
“So… does that mean the need for a bride is fictitious?” You clutch your hands tighter.
Some years ago, the Melusines were born from spilled blood. A new generation of successors of the brethren he once forsaken. Making this prison much less lonesome, voiding the accuracy of the sentence in that tale.
If that was the case, then why did the waters still rage? Why did the pittering of rain drown out all bird songs and tumults of perplexed citizens? Is there a way he could simplify the details missed by storytellers for generations?
After that ‘happily ever after’, a dragon cursed his devil just as she cursed him.
No, such expositions would be an unfair burden upon your shoulders.
“It’s not fictitious.” Turning to gaze out at the depths of the underground realm, he takes a breath before continuing.
“The land which your nation, Fontaine, resides on is stolen land,” he reveals. “More accurately all of what you know as ‘Teyvat’ was stolen from the dragons, my fellow brethren.”
The furrow in your brows deepens as you listen on.
“My brethren were banished to the depths for the sake of humanity. A dragon’s rage isn’t something that can be easily quelled.” He glances back at you.
“A union between a dragon and a human, a show of peace between the two species. Even if the origins of this ritual have been embellished heavily, it serves the same purpose to pacify the ancient dragon’s rage,” he concludes.
Neuvillette wonders if this tale was enough to satisfy your inquiry, if his attempt at the human practice was enough to simplify the events muddled and twisted by time.
Impassive eyes scan over your expression, not missing the glimmer ever so bright within.
“So… has the rain stopped?” Your hands almost clasped together in prayer.
He nods, the shine growing ever so luminous in those blameless irises, one he couldn’t resist the enchantment of. That all too familiar look in your eyes.
“That’s good.” A slow smile made its appearance upon plush lips.
Ah. He remembers what that look was called, voices of recollection pulling him away from the edge. Just before he fell into bewitchment once more.
That look wasn’t relief, nor was it salvation. It's duty. He takes a slow and deep inhale.
Just as it was all those years ago, the narrative of this tale did not stray away from the plot. He must be more careful.
There’s been a still lull engulfing the atmosphere down in a hidden cavern. So still in fact that walks amongst maroon patches of grass have stopped. Your body was well enough to explore the corners of the state without assistance.
No reason for him to remain by your side throughout the day, and no reason for you to shadow him.
Neuvillette and you keeping mostly to one’s self. It was just the natural progression of things. After all, the ritual had been completed and the tides had receded. You’ve served your duty once more.
A foreign aroma was wafting through the estate, strange enough for Neuvillette to leave the library to investigate the origins of this aroma.
Steps slowing as the clacker of pots and pans becomes more distinct. The entrance of the estate kitchen comes into view, and he peers in to see a few familiar faces.
“Oh? Monsieur!” Rhemia notices his presence.
An assortment of vegetables, spices, and even some meats from fresh catches were spread about the table as a pan sizzling over a crackling fire.
Ingredients gathered from offering dropped down below the tides. The recent influx could be attributed to how the hymn of the rain has ceased.
“Hello, Monsieur Neuvillette.” Your smile greets him.
Ah, he’s found the explanation behind the foreign aroma and why the variety spread of ingredients was being utilized in a kitchen that was once mainly created just to match those diagrams drawn in novels.
“I hope you don’t mind my use of the kitchen, I wanted something other than…Consomme Purete.” Wiping your hands with a rag.
Yes, Consomme Purete.
It was the dish served when you had first woken up, a light but nutritious soup that was kind on your stomach. It had the right amount of hydration balanced with nutrients to sustain oneself, a perfect dish.
The only dish cooked in this kitchen, that was until today.
Removing a pan from the heat, you carefully transfer the contents onto a plate then place the pan back on the wood stove.
The rich aroma caused an audience of bright-eyed stares from the Melusines to center upon the steaming plate. Their tails make their excitement clear as they gaze upon a dish they’ve never seen before.
Was this a new passion of this life?... Or was it just one he never got the chance to witness?
Was this the devil before the role of a bride was forced upon her? A devil he’s never known, for all he saw was her performance to stop the deafening rain all those years ago.
His attention was brought back as the chime of cutlery against porcelain was heard, cooked veggies stabbed between the teeth of a fork.
Cupping a hand under the fork, your body leans down to the Melusine’s height, feeding them a bite of the fragrant dish. The wags of their tails increase in cadence as they chew.
“This is Tasses Ragout, tasty isn’t it?” The corners of your lips curl as you watch their little heads nod eagerly.
The suspicion melts from his gaze as he observes to the delight in their expressions, a few mitten hands tugging at the skirt of your gown for a bite. A giggle bubbles from your throat.
A scene mirroring that of a mother trying to appease the appetites of her ravenous young.
Soon your eyes connect and he straightens his posture. Brushing away the nonsensical musing, lilac hue advert away momentarily to recompose themselves before returning.
“Would you like a taste?” A fork offered in his direction, beckoning closer to take a bite.
There’s a myth he’s read about, of a forbidden apple held out by the tempter of all tempters, an apple so red and lustrous it made any mouth salivate.
“Thank you for the offer, however, I’ve already had my lunch.” He refrains.
A bite from that forbidden fruit was the genesis of disgrace and banishment. A betrayal of commandments once promised. Neuvillette won’t be deceived again.
Mittened hands grasping upon his coat and gloved hands as a circle of Melusines guides him through the winding halls, anticipation amping their voices.
There’s a chorus of giggles resounding through the halls, a joyous clamor of pattering steps against the marble floors.
The estate has been lively ever since your arrival in that white dress, a liveness which reaches his pointed ears even from behind closed doors.
Regardless, he allows himself to be towed by their skipping steps. Leading him to a room he recognizes as a space where many fabrics and gowns were collected and stored.
Garments made with the intent to be sold to Fontainians, but their crates were capsized over by the ravenous tides. Saved from watery abandonment by curious hands.
While this form of his could wear a few of those garments, the Melusines had statures much too short for pools of fabric to not drag along the ground. Thus, that collection of fabrics found themselves collecting dust.
Their steps abruptly stop just at the threshold of the door, mittened hands pressed up against their lips signaling for him to remain silent.
Soon their sights glance into the room as he follows, lilac eyes opening ever so slightly wider as they process the scene in front of him.
Evening gowns crafted by skilled tailors to be sold to Fontanian ladies, you had the right frame for those garments as well.
A trail of lustrous sapphire silk gathered behind your figure. The artistic stitching and pleating draping the silk around each curve of your body as if you were the only person meant to wear it.
A few Melusines fussing about the silk train, ever so curious of humanity, they must’ve requested for you to dawn the gown.
Just as they often had requested for him to dawn those fickle suits and coats for their enjoyment.
It seems you bent to their childish whims just as he does.
“How do you like it?” You ask your audience, twirling about in front of a mirror.
It’s different from those hardier dresses for when you wandered about the village and estate, in comparison this dress was much less practical.
“It’s beautiful, Madame!” Their round eyes were enamored.
“I’m glad, who knew you had such an aesthetic eye.” Your expression softens.
Bending down to Carole’s height, you scooped her up. Cradling her as your forehead touches her horns gently.
“Thank you for such a lovely dress.” Placing tender pats along her head, careful to not disturb her horns and hair.
Carole leans into your touch as your smile widens. Twirling once more with her in your arms, giggles ringing throughout the room.
Until your head peeked up, finally aware of the silent spectator just behind the door frame.
“Oh, hello Neuvillette,” you greet him with a smile he doesn’t return.
A tense lull creeps in, and a chill begins to mix with the quiet atmosphere. Lilac eyes pass over your form as Carole remains sat in your arms.
“Monsieur! Isn’t Madame pretty? Look!” Cheery and oblivious voices chime returning the warmth to the air.
Mitten hands release your skirt as they skitter toward his towering figure. Pride shines in their beaming smiles, awaiting validation of their handy work.
Steadfast eyes lowering themselves to the level of their short statures until the sharp edges gradually dissipate.
“A fine effort indeed.” A gloved hand extends to rest atop their heads.
Patting their heads tenderly as they closed their eyes in contentment
A warmth in those lilac hues, endearment no word could ever encapsulate fully.
“Are they your daughters?” Your head slants to the side.
His body stills, strictness reinstated in those violet irises just as they met yours. Studying that look within your polite smile, one which didn’t seem to reach your eyes.
Gloved hand ceasing all movement, his concentration now elsewhere. That expression ghosting your face, what does it mean?
“My apologies, was it too impudent of a question?” Your gaze adverts away, searching for reprieve in this heavy hush.
A deep breath as he formulates his response.
“I don’t share blood with them if that’s what you’re inquiring. However, they are the successors of my brethren.”
“Oh, I see,” you hum.
Neuvillette returns to patting their heads, while you readjust your hold on Carole. Subtly bouncing her, while turning back to face the standing mirror.
Casting a glance, he could discern the softness returning to that polite smile. Yet, the dragon has yet to unravel that luster in your irises.
An audience of bright eyes switches between the Monsieur and Madame.
“Bring these to her, you should greet the Madame!” Tiny hands push against Neuvillette’s back.
The traitorous clicks of his shoes against marble expose his approach.
Your head peers up from the book resting upon your lap, in the midst of reading a tale aloud to an audience.
Just in time to catch the tall figure of Neuvillette emerging into the library at the behest of the Melusines.
Lilac eyes meet yours ever so briefly before his gaze averts elsewhere. Gloved hand adjusting a bundle hidden a broad back, brings the other hand up to clear his throat.
“The Melusines found these when retrieving some offerings from the water, I believe you’ll enjoy them.” He presents their trinket.
A simple collection of dainty petals clustered together, pastel hues contrast against vivid virescent leaves. A quaint ribbon tied around the stems holding the bunch together held out in front of your face.
The recipient stares in round-eyed astonishment at the fragrant blooms before a smile melts into your lips.
“Thank you.” You accept the bouquet from his hand.
Admiring the rustic arrangement and the saccharine aroma as the Melusines sat around you leaned in closer to catch a whiff too.
“These are called Pluie Lotus up on the surface, they smell nice right?” Giggling lightly as you held the bouquet closer to their noses.
Grin ever present upon your lips as your soft eyes watch their marvel of such simple weeds. A bloom foreign to this realm abandoned by the sunlight.
There’s subtle slack in his posture, a budding smile just about to unfold just as your head peers back up. Every fiber in Neuvillette’s being tenses, goosebumps slithering up his nape.
Frozen there only able to witness your eyes study back and forth the hues of his irises and the periwinkle color tinting the fragile petals.
He watches an epiphany light up in your widened eyes as the bouquet was lifted higher, turning back to face him.
Don’t. Don’t say the words he knows are hanging off the tip of that honeyed tongue.
“They are the same lovely color as your eyes, Neuvillette.” You beam at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling from the stretch of your lips.
His posture returns to its rigid and upright state, a hand hidden from view balls up into a fist.
A sharpness threatening to break through leather confines and into his palm, as if they were attempting to grapple the surging torrent stirred up within himself.
Why? Why was this line from a script being recited word for every damn word? All said with that saccharine smile plastered over those wicked lips?
Indecipherable eyes narrow ever so slightly before he catches himself. Reining in the torrent just before it seethed out.
He clears his throat again to swallow back the bitterness.
“Do excuse me, please return to your reading session,” he utters his parting.
Promptly turning to return to his secludedness, stepping past the Melusines gathered by his side.
Swift strides through the empty halls leaving you to your peace and him to his peace, just as it should’ve been. Much to the pouts of a disappointed audience.
However, he didn’t have the mind to contemplate their discontent. Not when these rabid bellows drown out every other thought in their rancor.
Like a sea starved for vengeance, ravenous to settle a debt against those vile gods and their beloved creations.
A brass knob was abruptly twisted, hinges squealing in surprise as at the force as Neuvillette shuts it behind himself.
Ragged breathes resounding through the reprieve of his bedroom. Away from innocent bystanders and the devil who showed her face again after all these centuries for an encore.
Has he not been humiliated enough? He tugs at his cravat, freeing himself from the fickle decoration constricted about his neck in this already imprisoning body.
A form which binded him no matter how violently talons and fangs clawed and chewed, unable to leave a singular dent upon this damn curse.
This was humiliating enough, bound to this cove that separated him from the sea which cries for their sovereign.
He once believed this penitentiary was obscured away from the peeking eyes of capricious gods. Perhaps, he’s wrong.
Why is this fantasy being played out right in front of his eyes now after all these years?
To have you by his side, to have you reside in the home he craved out and inlaid pearls into, to see you smile and cradle young against your bodice. It’s insulting.
Because this was all he ever wanted. This was all he had ever wanted.
The lonesome dragon only ever yearned for a maiden’s endearment. He once believed she adored him back just the same.
Because while she lay within his arms under silken covers, her bare skin pressed against his mortal shape, her enchanting eyes always regarded him with such tenderness as her delicate hand stroked his cheek.
A glimmer he once believed was love.
The tale written along the parchment implied that the ‘princess’ loved the dragon. However, that was inaccurate. She never did.
For if she loved him, then she wouldn’t have deceived him.
She wouldn’t have ever whispered his secret to the town’s folk. Those foul creatures who then used his secret, which was once reserved solely for ‘you’.
Why? That simple question taunted him for decades as he rotted in this mocking solitude.
Why did ‘you’ yearn for the sun more than him? Was his love not enough to replace the warmth of a star? Was the home he made not enough when compared to the extravagance of humanity?
Or was it because blood and water, no matter how much they intertwine and mix, could never produce wine?
If… if the Melusines had been born just a few centuries earlier, then would you have been satisfied by his side? An answer he could already discern.
Because after his decades of solitude within these deridingly hushed walls, he finally accepted the truth.
She loved her people, they took up all the space of her heart, leaving no room for a prideful leviathan.
What a clever plan it all was, to distract a sovereign from his duty, cleansing stolen land with a flood of vengeance, by sending a maiden.
A woman so bewitching, so enchanting, and so lovely, that a proud dragon couldn’t resist bending to her whims. Spilling the secret hidden deep within him into her ear.
Abandoning his true form to be confined in the shape she favored the most. Then lured up to the surface, suspicions obstructed by the dazzlement of a false welcome from the nation of Fontaine.
Unaware until the scorching knife was already lodged in his back. Using the secret he had only ever told you, those meek creatures of the usurpers wished:
‘For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides’.
What a clever ploy, a masterly crafted master plan. Did that Oratrice bestow it upon mortals? Or was it your own little scheme? A devil in human skin who must’ve been enlisted by the god themselves.
That day when he was chained by that loch, you didn’t even bother to grace him with your presence.
You cruel, cruel devil whose heart only had room for her fellow citizens of Fontaine, whose eyes only ever glimmered with duty.
Neuvillette had finally comprehended the truth, he had made peace with the disgrace he brought upon himself.
So why did those vile false gods dangle you back in his face? They had already taken fragments of his authority.
Was his torment entertaining to them?
Lungs shaking with unsteady breaths, he could feel the pricks of scales dotted along his skin only for this body to swiftly reject it. A turmoil of draconic influence constrained by a mortal curse.
Like a beast kept in a cage much too small for it. If Neuvillette wishes for this agitation to cease, he must cease the stirred emotions.
Emotions don’t settle quickly once agitated like sand attempting to settle at the bottom of violent tides. He paces his shuddery inhales, biding in the solitude of his room until the storm dissipates.
To avoid the placid lake within him from thrashing violently to the woes from the throb of a wound which has yet to scar over, Neuvillette found it best to avoid your presence.
The lanterns outside the Melusine’s homes had long gone out as they followed their routine bedtime.
The expanse of the cavern dimmed to near blackness, the small creatures all tucked away soundly in their beds. A hushed ambiance provides a suitable environment for reflection.
His steps flatten the grass underneath as they accompany his strides with their rustling.
The absence of light had never bothered him, it’s within his nature to detest it. Any beast would withdraw away from the mere image of fire.
The rustle of the grass halts, a wispy aroma of smoke wafts towards him. It doesn’t take long to identify the origin. Only a small flicker broke through the shadows, candlewick fostering only a weak flame.
But it was enough to fend the shadows away from your frame.
The flame’s light caught on each subtle ripple of the pond you were kneeling over.
The seemingly unremarkable pool served as the sole entrance and exit to Merusea Village. Where the Melusines traveled through to gather food, fresh water, and trinkets swallowed up by the waves.
Cold waters catch the bitter droplets of your pained eyes in the reflection of the ripples upon the surface, the distorted silhouette of a weeping devil.
An unspoken gospel revealed to draconic pupils.
Under the rich aromas wafting from the kitchen, behind the diligently tailored gowns, and hidden in the cadence of your voice as you read tales aloud, laid the yearning for the rays of a bright star.
You’re human, a creature fleeting and meek by nature. Blood yearns to be with blood just as every drop of rain yearns to return to a cloud.
A sharp rustle of grass under a heavy step jolts your hunched-over posture straight, head whipping around to face the uninvited audience.
Once those weeping eyes recognize the brooding figure in front of them, your face adverts away from his direction. Shame evident upon your expression.
A concerned hand reaches out only to retract away, contrition marring his shut lips as Neuvillette diverts his eyes too.
Fire burns indiscriminately, even the dancing flame of a candle can sear its mark upon skin. Neuvillette knows this all too well, for the lesion he received from embracing that flame once still festers even after all these years.
However, lilac eyes pan back towards the orange glow illuminating your melancholic face. Warm hues contrast against the wet trails down your cheeks. There’s an ache more agonizing than a festering wound.
His steps advanced closer until he was knelt down by your slump frame. A benevolent touch lands upon your shoulder. Guiding you away from the taunting waters and into his arms, hiding your face in his broad shoulder.
Offering you a semblance of warmth in a coven shunned from the grace of gentle sunlight.
With your face away from his gaze, the cacophony of your sobs returns, digging your fingers into the folds of his dress shirt.
Echoed back mockingly by the cold cavern walls.
Perhaps a foolish dragon has yet to learn his lesson, still lured in that the brilliant light of a flame.
A gentle hand traces up along your back, softly brushing your hair away to reveal the skin of your nape to his sharp pupils.
Honed in upon untainted skin, the courts of rebirth may have removed the proof of your damnation, but not the hex itself.
Or maybe, a foolish dragon feels some responsibility for being the one to curse you to this fate.
A mark once imprinted upon your nape by a lonesome dragon, a heavy oath sworn to you engrained into the very fabric of your soul amidst the first rendition.
One which then became the cursed chains that sunk you under the unforgiving waters.
It’s said that love is heavy, a weight greater than the density of water. A heaviness which could sink anything and everyone under salty tides.
A heaviness originating from this accursed prison where a disgraced being resided.
Even as the earth above welcomed new generations as they said goodbye to bygone times.
The solitude of a fool turning into ravenous waves which seeped into soil until its appetite was satiated by the return of its beloved treasure.
It’s his fault that the tides stole you from the sunlight.
The courts of rebirth had already forgiven you of this burden, not a single memory remaining of that tale.
What right does he have to place it back upon you? There’s no point in punishing one for a sin that had been cleansed by the tides of time.
You didn’t deserve to be held away from the warmth of a benevolent sun.
To have been dragged down below to these depths. To have been stolen away from the warmth of the sun by the command of fickles gods and ancient grudges.
It’s much too severe of a sentence for you, someone who didn’t deserve to repent for a sin that wasn’t truly yours.
Is it okay for his hands to wipe away your tears when this cursed dragon was the cause of your agony?
Even if it’s wrong, Neuvillette holds you closer. Even if he didn’t have the right, he pressed your face in his shoulder. Allowing the vehemence of your tears to scorch his skin as you buried your cries into him.
Glancing at the pool you had been leaning over, he watches as the ripples of the surface taunt you and him the same.
Two beings whose bodies couldn’t embrace the tides. Two cursed beings who’ve been trapped in repeated play.
“It seems you’re bound to this prison as well.” He scorns those gods and ancient grudges, but he scorns himself the most.
Confined behind a human face and a human body, a traitor who’s lost his birthright over the waters who couldn’t welcome him.
How can a cursed dragon quell those choking sobs of yours? How can he atone for his selfish sin?
Neuvillette takes a deep breath just your tears continue to soak his skin. Steeling his resolve, he meditates on the one resolution he can offer you.
“Fontainians still tell a tale about a princess who wished a dragon to become a prince, yes?” He begins.
After a pause filled with hiccups and shaky breaths, you nod your head as an answer.
“It was when she spoke the dragon’s true name that he granted her one wish,” he recounts the tale, feeling the trembles of your shoulders.
“That part of the story isn’t fictitious,” he reveals.
Voices from the depths of his rationality whisper for him to stop, to expand no more upon this secret of his brethren. Clamorous warnings to a traitor to not repeat his past transgressions.
However, he obeys no edict from the heavens or origins. Not when an unjust punishment caused such heart-wrenching sobs.
“Names hold great significance to dragons. So much so, to whoever learns their true name, a wish can be granted.”
Slowly, your tear-stained face pulls away from his crinkled dress shirt. Finally meeting his lilac gaze. He notes the bewilderment which surrounds his reflection in your eyes.
“Is… your name not ‘Neuvillette’?” You inquire.
“It’s a surname bestowed upon me by the mortals of the land.”
“Then… What is your name?” A glimmer of optimism ever so subtly debuts in your eyes.
He could not tell you. No matter how beautifully that light shines, this was one ordinance he couldn’t ignore. All he could do was glance away as he shakes his head. Unable to bear the sight of that light extinguishing.
“That is what you must find for yourself.”
Perhaps this is his defiance of the plot which has been unraveling for so long. His attempt to step off that circular path, searching for a different end.
The silent audience of fate watching on with bemusement to where this rendition will lead.
“Oh?”
“Oh?”
What a peculiar occurrence, Neuvillette was just about to exit his study when he found himself just a breath’s width away from you. Instinctively, he takes a step back behind the threshold of the doorway.
Passive eyes studying your form, you must’ve been standing there for a while. A hand held up intending to knock on the oak door returns to your side as you stare at the floor.
“Is there something you need assistance with?” He continues to study you.
Lilac eyes observe as your fingers clasp together, a common habit of mortals when nervous, if he recalls the contents of a book correctly. Another minute passes before you take a deep breath.
“Is your name Guillaume?” You peer up.
Ah, so this is what you wished to inquire about.
The secret revealed to you that day beside an exit neither he nor you could cross. Guillaume, a name befitting of nobility. But unfortunately, not for a dragon.
He responds with a shake of his head, expression stiffening as he watches the corners of your lips drop ever so slightly.
“Oh…”
It seems his existence brings nothing but a frown upon those soft lips, Neuvillette felt it’s best to retreat from your sight.
This attempt was evidence of your determination to return to the embrace of a warm star.
It wouldn’t be right for him to interfere, despite those vile voice whispers murmuring from the depth of his mind. It wouldn’t be fair to you.
It’s best to maintain this distance between his hand and yours, for your sake and his.
Which begs the question, why were you still standing here in front of him?
“Is that all you wished to inquire?” Neuvillette hopes the Melusines will lift your spirits after he withdraws.
“Actually…” You began. “I made some soup and if you haven’t had lunch yet, would you like to try some?”
Although his stoic face might not reflect it, he’s positively baffled. Were ‘you’ always this enthusiastic about food?
The devil he knew before would view the freshest catches and clearest waters offered by a dragon with blasé reactions.
You used to recoil away from the fishes and meats he held out to you, they were only ever touched once he charred them over a fire.
Then again the kitchen back then was much more barren than the present, cabinets now decorated with bottles of fragrant spices and herbs.
Was it just a difference in palate? To reject such an invitation would be to squander a precious opportunity for investigation.
“The pleasure would be all mine.” He matches your strides as the two of you traverse toward the kitchen.
Settling down in a chair at a wooden table, Neuvillette watches as you ladle some soup into a bowl. Following your form as you set the bowl down in front of him. A pleasant aroma accompanies the steam emitting from the bowl.
“It’s Fontainian Onion Soup.” You hand a spoon over.
“Thank you.” He takes the utensil and scoops a hearty serving of the rich soup.
A distinct flavor of caramelized onions and the creaminess of cheese. The broth had been thickened with a bit of flour and the cheese added to the heavy mouth feel.
This dish certainly expresses the flavor preferences of humans… but could such a thick broth really be considered soup?
“Do you like it?” Your head tilts to the side as he feels your inquisitiveness.
Dabbing a napkin over his lips, he clears his throat.
“A fine dish indeed. Although increasing the liquid content and reducing the amount of fat could improve it,” he advises.
A hush falls over the kitchen, nothing but the occasional crackle of a fire filling the space.
“Oh… I’ll keep that in mind.” Your voice was restraining something.
As you turn away, Neuvillette catches the subtle shakes of your shoulders.
Ah, has he caused offense? He recalls how cooking and food preferences amongst humans tend to be a sore spot for most, some books going as far as to claim critics as attacks on one’s pride.
You had taken time out of your day to prepare a bowl for him, and he gave senseless comments in return.
“Ah, but it’s delicious regardless, thank you.” He has to remedy this situation.
The shakes of your shoulders increase, as a hand covers your lips.
“Thank you, Monsieur.” Your lips seem to be trying to stifle something.
After finishing your sentence, your lips pressed tighter together. He could see the corners twitching as they tried their best to remain neutral.
Before he could get another word in, you excused yourself. Leaving him in front of the warm soup.
In that moment, Neuvillette vows to himself that even if you were to hand him a piece of charcoal he’ll swallow it without a single complaint.
Your voice causes him to turn his attention away from the pages of a book this quiet evening.
You stood just off to the side of the bookshelf where he was browsing, a candle illuminating the curiosity held in your eyes. Presenting a name likely discovered from those very same shelves.
Dirges ring from the corners of his mind, warning him not to allow the light to approach so close.
However, where is a shadow supposed to withdraw to when the light seeks him?
Just as how the tide couldn’t run away from the shore for long. Steadfast and constant attempts to unravel the secrets held by the ebbs and flows.
Alas, he shakes his head again today, steeling his nerves as he catches the slight drop in your shoulders. Louis, Étienne, Théodore, and all those previous guesses, are names of heroes in Fontainian tales and epics.
Popularized to the point many boys were named after them, but no parent would ever want to name their child after a dragon, a beast.
He doubts the pages of history have ever recorded his name.
Your disheartened gaze couldn’t meet his, choosing to stare into the space beside him. He couldn’t fault you for that.
All your efforts of combing through old novels to search for obscured monikers just to be undone by a shake of a head.
He’s not sure how much longer he can endure being the origin of your melancholy.
“There’s a tear in your coat…”
Your voice brings him out of his thoughts, he glances at the spot your eyes were honed on and spots the aforementioned tear.
“Ah, I see. My apologies for being in such an unsightly state, ” he sighs. Lilac eyes ran along the jagged seams.
He should go find a replacement from his wardrobe, but you still looked like you had something to say.
“I can fix it if you’d like,” you offer.
It’s just a garment, a piece of cloth that fell off some merchant’s ship and found itself in the walls of a cove. There were plenty of other garments that suffered the same fate, picked up by pairs of curious mittened hands.
To replace this robe would be simple, but he notes the concealed eagerness in the fidget of your fingers. It must be rather dull for you down here for the past year, to the point you resorted to repairing old fabrics for enrichment.
Regrettably, Neuvillette admits he’s not the best host. He’s got no talent for small talk nor does he know how to entertain you, thus he left it up to the Melusines. However, he could at least do this much as a host.
“Thank you, I’d be grateful if you do.”
His steps in time with yours through the halls as an old storage room comes into view. Still filled with collections of folded gowns and coats.
As he observes the room, you guide him to a pair of wooden chairs, a box filled with needles and threads beside one. You place the candle down on a nearby table.
“I’ll take your coat.” Holding out your hands.
Following your request, he slips the robe off his shoulders, leaving him in a dress shirt and slacks.
Attentively you take the garment, settling down in a seat as your hand searches through the box. After your rummaging stopped, you glance back at him.
“It won’t take long, please have a seat.” Gesturing toward the other chair.
Lilac eyes scanned the aged seat, the door was just beyond it, it wouldn’t take much of an excuse for him to walk past the wooden threshold.
However, he pans back to your anticipatory gaze still awaiting. It wouldn’t be polite to deny such a simple gesture.
Thus, he heeds your request, ambling toward the empty seat, he begins to settle down just as a rip resonates through the air.
His body halts all movement just as yours did, toward pairs of eyes trained on the sleeve that had been caught on the edge of a wooden table.
The fibers of his shirt entangled with the jagged edges causing his sleeve to rip. Neuvillette truly has yet to acclimate to such fickle inconveniences.
“Pfft!-” Quickly your hand covers your mouth.
Lips pressed together as they tried their best to stifle the sounds threatening to leak out. Your shoulders shaking from the effort, just as they did that day in the kitchen.
Although his expression remains the same, he’s quite dumbfounded.
Unable to contain the sounds any longer, you erupt into a fit of giggles as he continues to stare. The bright chimes of your laughter fill the room, a melodic tune he had longed to hear for so long.
“S-sorry, I just didn’t expect you to… be so clumsy.” Giggles fragment your sentence along with a brief pause to collect yourself.
Clumsy. Yes, he remembers that word, an adjective you used to describe a dragon whenever he took on the shape you favored so much.
Of course, even a great beast like a dragon would totter and stumble when in such a foreign body.
Although he has been in this body for many, many years now, yet, Neuvillette hasn’t acclimated to these fickle mortal attires.
If these garments weren’t pushed into his hands by the Melusines and their bright-eyed stares, he’d prefer to not dawn them.
Neuvillette shuts his eyes. His lungs intake a deep breath, stifling the sway of these trivial inconveniences before they cause any ripples.
Once he’s certain there was no jagged edge to his stare, lilac hues peek back upon your figure.
By now those fits of giggles had faded into a tranquil lull, your content face focused on the stitches. Body relaxed against the back of the chair, weaving the needle through the sides of the tear.
Subconsciously, his frame begins to mimic yours, rigid muscles melting against the wooden support.
Lavender hues follow the disappearance of a sliver point, then catch its emergence from the fabric.
The torn and frayed edges draw closer and closer together by the coaxes of the thread, each stitch attentively placed by your graceful hands.
“Neuvillette?” Your serene voice interlaces with the placid interlude.
He hums an answer.
“That night by the entrance… you said ‘You're bound to this cove as well’.” The pace of the needle slows.
“Why did you say that?” You finish your question.
Observant, a characteristic of yours he’s always deemed quite commendable. Ever so keen on the nuances of his sentences.
The piercing stare of draconic eyes weighs on your shoulders, despite that the cadence of the needle didn’t falter. A ripple makes its appearance within a placid pool.
“Do you really wish to know?” He warns.
You hum resolutely. A bitter taste creeps its way up his tongue, the recollection of the string of words which damned him here.
Instinct advises him to swallow them back, to conceal his shame from your awaiting ears. However, answering the call of your curiosity should be enough of a repayment for repairing a coat.
“For the rest of one’s life, one shall never leave this cave deep beneath the tides. That is the curse set upon this body,” he reveals.
The needle stops.
“A curse?…” you stammer out.
Under your breath, Neuvillette hears you recount the disclosed secret. Repeating it to yourself as if to decipher the syntax, to find some answers to his condemnation.
The answer was sitting just in front of him.
“…For the rest of one’s life… well, how long do dragons live?”
To mortals, it’s time who is the reaper of their existence. From the moment a newborn sounds their first cry to the final draw of air on their deathbeds, it was the hands of a clock who ruled over them.
But such hands could not touch a being such as him.
“The life of a dragon begins and ends in the Fontemer Sea, born from it, made from it, and shall return to it to be born again.” He wonders if mortals could grasp such a concept.
“Oh…” Your tone grew more somber.
Judging from your tonality, you must’ve pieced the allusions together.
To be contained within these stone walls with only a pool of seawater he could not touch as the opening, is to bestow upon him immortality he never asked for.
For the Hydro Dragon could not return to the Fontemer Sea.
Even if dragons had long lives, it didn’t mean the humiliation of immortality. The true cruelty of this seemingly kind curse.
“Why?” Your voice just barely above a whisper.
Why was he cursed? Why is he in this sham of a mortal body? Why did he reveal the secrets of his brethren? All of this at the trifling sight of bitter tears.
“Because the people of Fontaine found my name and they wished for it.”
Why did he give you his name? And why did you then give it away? There are many questions left unanswered by that tale.
Why did a proud dragon bow to the whims of a mere mortal in that fairytale?
A creature as potent as a dragon should never bow, not to the ordinances of false gods, not to the turbulence of fate, and not to a mere mortal.
Why did a maiden wish for a dragon to become a human like them? Water is an adaptable element, able to take on any shape it pleases. However, it yearns to always return to its natural shape.
Perhaps, his ‘natural’ form appalled the devil too much. So much so, she used that one wish to confine him in the form she favored most.
More confoundingly, why did Neuvillette allow such a request? A creature favored by the usurpers dared to wish a dragon to abandon his heritage, to cross over the threshold of humanity just for their sake.
Why would a dragon ever bow to a mortal’s request?
The commandments of a false god and the howling thrashes of wind can’t make a proud dragon bow, but the weight of love might be enough for a prideful beast to lower his head towards a mortal.
A traitor to his own fallen brethren is much too dignified of a title for Neuvillette. No, it’d be better to call him for what he is: A Fool.
What a spectacle it was that day, even those fickle gods peered down just to watch. A fool who lost his form and authority was imprisoned beneath the tides.
A stir shakes that pool, whirling and writhing, the billows of bitterness mounting.
“… could it be wished away?” Your voice beckons his thoughts to return to the present.
Unlike how it was written in those tales, a curse can’t be ‘broken’. Not by a kiss, and not by clasping one’s hands together in prayer.
“Not even a miracle could make a curse vanish, a curse only ever goes away once its clauses have been fulfilled.”
Until the stars burn out, until the sky caves in on itself, or until the oceans of this uprooted world dry up, he shall remain here. The retribution a traitor deserves.
He shall remain in this sham of a body, unable to become the form he desired the most in the next life he’ll never reach.
Not a human, not a dragon, just an atrocity somewhere in-between. This must be what humans call ‘purgatory’.
“I see…” Your attention never leaves the half-stitched garment sprawled upon your lap.
A heavy silence fills the space between you and him once more. To conclude a conversation on such a doleful note would be a disgrace.
However, what is he to say? What words can salvage this situation? Neuvillette has no talent for small talk, he doesn’t have the same mortal heart as yours to provide you with any solstice.
Amidst his contemplation, a soft hum resounds through the quietude, and the melodic rhythm of a lullaby begins. It seems that you took matters into your own hands, ending the doleful silence at your own discretion.
Once more his back reclines into the wooden chair, pointed ears indulge themselves in a nostalgic tune.
It’s strange, that rippling pool is swaying back to equilibrium. The surface returns to its placid rest as tension melts from his muscles.
Unaware of the hushed pitter-patter of a curious audience, drawn in by the gentle song as their bright eyes peer ever from the cover of the door frame.
“Madame! Look I got more Pluie Lotuses!” Kiara’s little steps rush across the marble floor.
Getting up on the tips of her feet to show the bundle of fresh blooms, salty water still dripping from their petals, as her bangs stick flush to her face still damp from the sea. Her pink tail swaying behind her.
Your body turns in her direction just in time with Neuvillette.
“Kiara…” A subtle layer of disapproval emerges from lilac hues.
“Remember to dry off before entering the estate, the floors can become quite dangerous when wet.”
“But…” the flowers lower. “I wanted to show Madame the lotuses…”
There’s a drop in her tail and horns and a sharp sting to his chest. Her sisters were gathered around in a circle, a story having just concluded, he could feel their stares upon him. Adding to the sharpness of guilt.
“My apologies, Kiara, I only meant to warn you.”
She nods her head silently, tail still dragging on the floor. Ah, just what should he do? A frown begins to weigh down his face.
“Thank you, they’re wonderful, Kiara.” Your gentle chime breaks through the stalemate.
You take the bouquet from her mittened hands, placing them atop a counter, in exchange you offer her a towel.
“But Neuvillette is right, it’s not good to run through the halls right after you returned from the waters. It’s dangerous, okay?” Your voice as gentle as the towel rubbed over her hair and horns.
A content smile returns to her round cheeks as she diligently nods, promising that she’ll be more careful next time. Tail lifting up from the floor as the fluffy towel wipes away the ocean droplets.
Once fully dried, she joins her sisters. The Melusines cast shifting glances toward one another until one finally steps out from the crowd.
“Madame…” Carole calls out softly, tugging a few times the hem of your long dress.
“Hm?” Giving her your full attention, a towel set aside.
“I overheard you inquiring about names with Monsieur in the library once, could you be…” Her eyes downcasted.
Oh. This time it was Neuvillette and you who exchanged glances, eyes both reflecting the same dread.
They weren’t supposed to know. They weren’t supposed to hear those slapdash guesses.
He never meant for them to find out. Always careful to never discuss such matters in their earshot.
For how could he bear to tell them that their cozy village was actually a prison?
His mind was unable to conjure up an excuse, tongue unwilling to speak it. They weren’t supposed to find out. Oh, what shall he do now?
“Could you be expecting?”
Huh?
Two pairs of eyes widened with bewilderment, mind stunned into silence and lips just as confused.
Somehow they’ve huddled even closer than before, encircling you and him with their bright eyes and tails swaying with anticipation.
“Will there be a new addition to the village?”
“How long do we have to wait?”
“Are we getting a brother or sister?”
Their chatter and probes homogenized into a jumbled symphony his flustered conscious just couldn’t distinguish. Trying to reel his senses back from this unexpected turn of events. Neuvillette clears his throat.
“No,” he coughs out.
A collective ‘aw’ resounds through the air, their tails and horns drooping down at the announcement. Guilt pierced its nail through his chest once more. However, he couldn’t lie to their bright eyes.
“N-not, yet.” You add to his statement.
A wave of inquisitive‘oh’ ripples through the crowd. Tails picked up from the ground as the glimmer in their eyes returned.
A sweet lie sprinkled over the truth neither of you dare tell, that blood and water can’t make wine.
“Then, do you want a little prince or little princess?” Carole chirps.
You remain silent, only gazing down at their faces as they stare back.
A lilac stare was also focused upon you, his curiosity awakening at this question as well. He watches you take a slow breath before leaning down.
“I’d like to have a daughter, sweet and kind like all of you.” Your hand strokes her soft trestles.
Her head nuzzles into your palm as giggles fill the air. Only draconic eyes study the small smile upon your lips, dipped in bittersweetness.
Did you have a lover back on the surface in this life? Perhaps someone who was promised to you. A real prince this time.
Did you have dreams of basking in the grace of the sun, cradling a bundle as a pair of tiny fingers encase around your own?
Was this the hard-earned happy ending you yearned for?
“Monsieur…” Mamaere tugs on his slacks.
Neuvillette reigns his thoughts back from their escapade, he angles his head down.
“Where does a baby come from?”
The smile on your lips stiffen just as Neuvillette’s body does.
If there’s a god who’s peering into this cavern deep below the land and sea, must they send such dilemmas his way?
How does one navigate through this treacherous domain?
“Oh dear! I just remembered.” Your hands clap together.
“There’s a few ribbons and clips in the fabric room, do you girls mind getting them? So we can braid Monsieur’s hair?”
At once the Melusines stand at attention, focus diverted over their excitement at the prospect of decorating snowy locks.
The patters of their little steps trample down the hall, allowing you and Neuvillette a well-deserved moment of reprieve.
“Thank you.” His posture drops slightly as a hefty sigh leaves him, lids shut for a moment of rest.
“Of course, Sébastien.”
His eyes crack open, casting you a glance with a raised brow. The ghost of a grin barely contained by delicate lips. By this time, Neuvillette couldn’t recall all the past attempts.
“Regrettably, that is not my name.”
“Was it at least a decent attempt?”
He could hear the pout in your voice, one that didn’t last long before a light-hearted laugh follows it.
Closing his eyes once more as he indulges in those chimes, he nods ever so slightly. It was a good attempt, for it brought out those sounds he enjoyed.
His lashes flutter open at the sensation of his hair getting gathered in your tender hold. Passing the carved wooden teeth of a comb through his snowy locks.
Careful to not pull or tug on them as you coaxed the tangles out of their knots. The heaviness upon his shoulders leaves with a deep exhale which left his body, indulging in your attentive touches.
Subconsciously, his gaze trails up at the bundle of flowers resting along the wooden table. It wasn’t the periwinkle blush of the delicate petals that commanded his attention.
No, it was that salty, oceanic wisp mingled with the flora aroma. A fleeting essence of the sea.
“Do you miss the sea?”
Ah, it seems that his stare wasn’t as subtle as he had hoped. Neuvillette turns away from the flowers as if he had been caught amidst a scheme.
Facing in front of him, your paused hands signal your wait for his response.
“I suppose it’s only natural for me to long for it.”
After all these years, Neuvillette believes he has finally grasped it, an answer to that void filled with ‘whys’. As if he had seized the reflection of a star from the bottom of a deep lake.
Neuvillette thinks he understands why you and the devil yearned for the sunlight.
Perhaps the one similarity between proud dragons and arrogant humans. They both ache to return to where they came from.
One yearns for the sea. One yearns for land.
For there and only there, could their sins and grudges be purged. To gain the most restful sleep before the hands of fate shape them anew from the element.
“Hmm,” you hum in acknowledgment.
Fingers gentle and slow as they brushed through his hair. You hum a lullaby to accompany each pass of the comb. Melodies that made his ears yearn for more, craving for more sounds to leave your plush lips.
His hair had always been an inconvenience, capricious strands that were seemly curious of everything in his environment.
Snowy tresses find themselves gravitating towards door hinges, door knobs, and even the minuscule gaps in ornate furniture.
However, your patience hands untangled those unruly stands.
When a knot proves to be particularly stubborn, you tend to lend closer to hone in on the troublesome tangle.
It just so happens that a stubborn knot appeared, causing you to decrease the proximity between your bodies.
The heat radiating from your frame sends delightful pickles along his skin, a delicate warmth making his flesh grow feverish.
A hunger deep within begins to grumble and wallow, a greed that wishes to dig past those frivolous fragrances to get to the true taste he craves.
An ugly gluttony pleading to delve into your soft flesh. Ah, he recognizes the cause of this turbulence now…
Neuvillette clears his throat.
“I believe I’m beginning to feel unwell, so please refrain from venturing into the cellar for the next few weeks. I should quarantine myself.” Too ashamed to turn back and face you.
“Oh?...” The comb stops.
At this distance, he was well aware of your scent. A fine fragrance no water or bloom could hope to imitate. Concealed under a layer of lavish soaps and oils dropped from the surface was an aroma that was wholly yours and yours alone.
A gloved hand reaches up to cover his nostrils, seeking some barrier between that tantalizing whiff.
“Please, excuse me…” He pulls away swiftly.
The sudden action must’ve jostled his hair too much, for the sultry sensation of your fingertips was felt along azure ‘strands’.
Just a minor touch against his horns, yet shudders rack up his nape. His teeth sink into the flesh of his bottom lip, sharper than they’re supposed to be, anchoring those ravenous voices at bay momentarily.
He needs to leave now. For your sake.
Rushed strides stow a distance between his body and that delectable warmth of yours. His back turned to you as he couldn’t bear to see the expression upon that saccharine face.
Just what expression were you making as a dragon retreated?
The cellar of this estate was always cold, its stones never having once touched the sunlight before, thus they only brood in their frigidity. A somberness fitting to quell a heat which yearned to burn.
The fever has consumed his body wholly, each pant leaving trails of foggy wisps. Neuvillette burrows deeper into the hoard of sheets, pillows, and blankets. The brush of the soft fabrics prickles his skin.
How strange it is that despite the fever of heat igniting each corner of his flesh, despite the numerous thick covers twisting and burying his bare form, he’s still shivering.
A chill ingrained so deep it’s in his very bones, skin alight but bones frozen over, just what is this purgatory?
Annually it happens, a period where primal instincts exude past the rigid confines of a mortal form. Making its influence in the resurgence of draconic features over the mortal flesh that traps him.
No matter how raw his true form claws to be released, the mortal prison doesn’t relent. A curse he’s brought upon himself.
Laceratations of gluttony and cardinal sin sink deeper with each provocation. The creeks of the floorboards above and the sweet voice which leaked through the woods, the morsels of you that stirred the waters of instinct.
From the depths of the torrent, he’s so desperately suppressing came the unquenchable thirst to lure you in. Beckon you down to this shadowy cellar so that the ugly and primal waters could swallow you wholly.
But he mustn’t. Those soft touches and smiles had just been bestowed upon him, the twine of trust still delicate. How could he ever squander such privileges? For those lovely eyes of yours to look at him filled with nothing but fear and disgust, he’d rather be chained down here for the rest of eternity.
He must endure it for a bit longer, he knows it’ll be over soon. The gale which sweeps through him is slowly lessening its blows.
Even if the waters of primitive instincts howled and stormed, Neuvillette refused to leave this tangle of blankets and pillows. An unwavering grip refusing to submit to those demands. Thus nature had to find its own way to subsist off a drought.
The heat hazed over his mind, conjuring up fantasies to appease the ever-unsettled water from its vapid reality.
“Neuvillette?” A soft voice calls out.
Just like now. Desire fogs up his senses to create a delusion, mimicking the way your warm voice beckons him. It’s nothing but a figment of his depraved lust.
“Neuvillette?”
He buries his ears further into the down covers to block the alluring mirages. Tickling him to submit to the temptation. But he mustn’t. Nothing more than a manifestation of lust.
The phantom donning your sweet voice calls out for him, and gentle touches send shivers through his nerves. Ah, he must vanquish this mirage before the fraying line of his self-restraint splinters apart.
Nothing but smoke and mirrors conjured by desire, a rigid arm expels out from the covers to dissipate the siren’s lure.
However, it wraps around something warm, a heat which his fever wails for. Intrinsically his shivering body covets that warmth, to be buried flush against the source so that this chill may finally stop its torment.
So like any greedy dragon, his claws enclose around temptation and drag it into his decrepit cave of blankets and sheets.
A satisfied purr judders through his stalwart body, a warmth which could finally reach his very bones. Thus, he burrows his face deeper into the shoulder of this phantom, a lovely aroma beckoning him to pull their soft body closer.
“Neuvillette?…”
His eyes snap open, realization flooding through him just as the chill that had been ingrained into his bones. This wasn’t an illusion. You weren’t an illusion.
He tears himself away, just as a moth does once they realize a hypnotic flame had set their wings alight. Trembly arms firmly planted on either side of your body, snowy locks falling onto your face.
“Are you alright?...” The sapphire luminance of his elongated horns shines across those sinless eyes.
The strap of a nightgown halfway down your shoulder from when he snatched you beneath his savage form.
“You… you shouldn’t be here,” he breathes, voice unsteady and taut.
“You’ve been away for an awfully long time… I-” Your eyes were blown wide and lips pressed together, aghast gaze not daring to glance down at the raging rigidness pressed against the silk of your nightgown.
Frenzied shivers of pleasure jostles through his veins, tremors racking his body all the way to the tips of his horns. In desperation his rigidnesses pleaded to feel you, throbbing so painfully a hiss leaves his lips.
“You need to leave, quickly please.” Leave before he traps you again.
Before this pathetic excuse of a sovereign loses against himself, before he makes a fool of himself. Neuvillette tries to pull away, against the weeping wishes of his erections. Face too ashamed to even look at you, but a pair of tender hands guides his cheeks back.
“...But I missed you…” You whisper.
Why are your hands embracing his face in this unsightly state? Are they not appalled by the patches of scales littered across them? Like a flame reaching out towards a moth.
“Leave, please.” Don’t tempt him like this.
“... Don’t you miss me?...” Your hold doesn’t budge.
Why do you look at him like that? Irises filled with warmth as his image is reflected in the flickering candlelight. Gazing wholly up at him. A cerulean glow tinting your hair and supple body.
“Don’t…” He reasons, the last of his sensibility crying a warning of a sinful fruit.
“Please, Neuvillette… won’t you hold me for just a bit? I missed you so much….” The shift of your shoulder causes the nightgown to slip further off your shoulder.
Don’t call out to him like that. No, not as your bewitching body was so close to his. The glow of a candle illuminating the curve of your cheeks, disheveled hair framing your wide eyes.
Don’t show him such a sight, for he’ll salivate to devour you until his teeth rot.
“Please?...” Coaxing his head down so that his forehead rests against yours.
Your warmth, your soft touches, and your delectable aroma, they parch his throat so much it pained him. Just as painful as attempting to swallow down sand from a hellish desert, it aches and lacerates his throat.
And here you were offering a lustrous fruit, so juicy and filled of sin, in front of his famished eyes. A cruel, cruel mercy.
“... May…May I?” It’s unbearable, this parchedness in his throat, would you be so kind to quench it?
Your sweet hum grants him permission. Eyes closed just as you turn a blind eye to his ravenousness, still stroking his tender cheeks. Neuvillette couldn’t deny himself any more of the warmth he’s coveted for oh so long.
Thus, he delves head-first into the glimmer of that enchanting flame. Burying his nose into the crook of your neck, so vulnerable and complacent, to hoard your bewitching fragrance all for himself. His skin flushed against yours as his bones delight in your heat.
The reigns of self-respect slip out from his hands as they let go in favor of running along your curves and edges. Each feature, your shoulders, and hips, aligns with details he’s long ingrained into his memory.
His fervor touches pushing down the silk fabric which dare disturb his worship. Nevuillette cants his head up momentarily, puffs of smothering breaths clouding the frosty air.
Lilac eyes drink up how the chilly air made your delectable breast perky, trailing down the goosebumps lining your torso, and landing on your exposed thighs.
A dryness itches in his throat as callused hands bite into the tender skin and he parts those placid legs away.
Oh, how could one ever take their eyes off that shiny, succulent fruit held out so openly in the hands of the tempter of all tempters?
They reveal to him the oasis he’d been hallucinating these grueling weeks. The tip of a serpentine tongue slips across his parched lips.
Since you so brazenly offered your body up to him, you wouldn’t have any objects against him finally getting a taste, right?
His foreboding figure traverses downwards until his delirious face is right between the cusp of his salvation and demise.
Dilated pupils peering up at you for approval, an invocation for clemency from this drought. A merciful hand graces his cheeks once more, granting him his salvation and demise.
His tongue escapes past his parched lips, as lengthy as it was insatiable, it licks a slow and passionate strip up your slit. A taste he once would only recount in the depths of his recollections.
Does this new body of yours still have the same weaknesses? Will you still writhe in madness if he sucks on that delectable little nub? Or how about those hidden points concealed deep within?
Could this tongue of his bring you past the brink of insanity in this life as well?
There was only one way for Neuvillette to grasp the answers he sought. A long tongue slips past the entrance of your satin walls, welcomed with a lewd squelch.
Grip parting your legs from his path further. Those quivering calls of ‘Neuvillette’and the pawing of your small hands against his head beckon him deeper.
Ah, redemption, it’s far too late for him now. For Nevillette has taken a bite out from that forbidden fruit, the evidence of it was dripping down his chin.
Ah, these slick velvety walls, he missed them. They clamp down with such ferocity along this beastly tongue, extensive enough to reach the deepest cavern of you.
A divine nectar begins to pool, Neuvillette retracts his tongue just enough for the heavenly taste to slide down his throat. Your sweet musk sends his olfactory system into chaos, rampant tongue returning to ravish you.
Not one drop of restraint left within him. It’s beastly how he’s devouring you. His tongue craves more of the delicacy he’s denied himself these past years, a thirst no water could quench. Wet muscles sliding up the whole length of your slit in a meticulous long lap, his nose bumping into your clit.
Your mewls and sobs echo off the walls when he flicks his tongue over that sensitive nub. Your body jolts violently as the length of his tongue ventures into the honeypot, toes curling in the air, but his iron-clad grip doesn’t allow any room for escape.
Delicate fingers now entangled into his tussled locks, grasping onto illuminated horns. You were likely trying to find something to ground your dissipating sanity, how unfortunate that your actions only flamed the fires.
A guttural growl echoed. Tongue now plunging further, slithering back and forth along your walls. For being such a sweet sacrifice for him, he’ll give a reward. Slithering tongue making sure to drag against that spot he’s memorized.
Judging from how your feet were arching off the sheets, it seems this sinful detail of yours was repeated as well.
Your body writhes, no longer docile under the white searing pleasure frying the ends of every nerve within your being. Unrelenting rhythm slipping in and out of your convulsing walls, your body twitching and flailing in reaction.
Trying to find some way to handle this surcharge of sensations. Legs instinctively wanting to shut together as if to cease this turbulent sensation, unfortunately, your pitiful strength gave no resistance against his rigid hold.
He could feel your muscles begin to seize up, slick walls clamping harder on his writhing tongue. Was this foreign sensation too much for you already?
His long tongue explores every last crevice, tastebuds lapping against those weak spots deep within as his nose bumps and grinds against that lewd clit. This unsightly side of you.
There’s more fervor in the lashes of his tongue, slurping up the nectar trickling out your greed, mixing with his spit dripping down his chin.
Your legs trashing but unable to go anywhere in his unrelenting hold, only able to pull on his silky locks for dear life as sobs tumble out. A flood of arousal adds to the mess on his chin. One he gladly laps up.
Oh’s and ah’s were the only choked sounds your lips could make as your eyes rolled to the back of your scrambled mind.
Neuvillette still relishing in the elixir he’s denied himself for too long, not even the purest water could compare. Reveling in the taste until every last drip ran down his parched throat.
Pulling away, a trail connects his lips with your quivering folds. Callous hands dig further into your legs, making room for his body. Watching as the movements of your chest slowed, his brute figure engulfed your frame.
The ache was unbearable now, each impatient throb reprimanding him for delaying their greed. Neuvillette couldn’t deny their request any longer.
Back sitting up straight, his cocks thrumming against his abdomen, precum exuding out from their swollen heads.
The cool air did little to calm the throbs of his fervors, the girthy shaft standing tall as its engorged tip weeped precum, its twin weeping just the same.
They hover over the softness of your belly, sharp pupils trail up the shadow they cast, heralding to where they crave to be buried.
The heat of his body was suffocating, the burn in his throat greater than ever before. But why? He had drank from that forbidden oasis, it’s dripping down his chin, yet why has his thirst grown greater than before?
Neuvillette was so… so close. If he had only endured it for another day or two, the gale within him would’ve relented and retreated away in defeat. But oh how viciously it’s gloating in its victory. Getting a dragon to bow his head to its cardinal blows.
“Do you… feel better now, Neuvillette?” Slow pants leave your curled lips as your hands reach up to caress his taut face.
This brazenness, this shamelessness, this insolence. Ah, these characteristics have followed you through the grave and into this life as well. You weren’t skilled enough this time around to hide your desire glazed across your pupils.
Did you do this in hopes of making him indebted to you? Offer your sweet body in return for stealing his name from his locked lips? Was this why you traversed down to this dark cellar so late in such flimsy silks?
That gleam in those deceptive eyes, the audacity to believe you could tame the sea with just a flick of your finger. You devious temptress.
“Better?… you’ve only fanned the flames, you devious woman.” A snarl from the depths of him.
Before another word could leave your lips one torrid hand pins your wrist to the sheets. Nails much too sharp to be human dig into those fickle and troublesome fabrics hiding your skin from his touch.
An all too satisfying rip resounding through the air along with your yelp. Scraps join the tangle of sheets.
Did his mortal prison deceive you too much? Did his mild mannerisms trick you into believing that he’s a merciful soul? Or did you always ignore the warnings?
A monster with a human face is still a monster. To believe that one’s patience is endless, only a human could be this impertinent.
His other vascular hand slides down the curves of your body, settling on your hip as your legs hook behind his firm thighs. The ridges of his lower cock drag against your slick folds, wetting his girth from its leaking tip sliding down against your swollen clit.
Precum mixes with the concoction as the glossiness spreads about his length. A pair of shaky breaths mingle as Neuvillette positions his engorged tip at your dripping entrance.
The sensation must’ve cleared the daze from your mind, your head cants downwards to stare at the two oddities.
“A-are both of them going to…” Your grip tightens on the sheets, a subconscious search for comfort.
Ah, now you remember danger. Now you realize your insolence to believe that a mere human could ever tame a proud dragon.
“There won’t be any point in breaking you so quickly,” he snarls. Not missing the flutter of your hole as the weeping head dragged over it. It wouldn’t be good to break you so quickly. His sweet little sacrifice.
Taking the erection which hung lower, he rubs its flushed tip along your slit. Each flinch and tremble sparked gratification through his veins.
The lashes of his tongue had aided in the preparation of these sinful walls, but the girth of his beastly tongue could not compare to the thickness pressed against these leaking folds.
The ghost of his breath flutters over your prickling skin. Neuvillette takes deeper breaths as the weight pressed against your core grew, the bulbous tip inching past the puckering entrance.
The stretch was maddening despite the restrained pace. Your walls fluctuate in a surging dance between clamping down and trying to remain relaxed.
As Neuvillette sinks his girth in bit by bit, its envious twin slithers against your aching clit. The sensitive bundle of nerves drags against each ridge and vein, sending jolts of searing pleasure through him and causing your satin walls to flutter.
A velvety sack kisses against your slick folds, signaling that his length has reached its end. The fat tip of its twin resting just above your naval indicated just how deeply he was buried, trapped between your soft flesh and his sculpted body.
It’s crowded inside you, girth parting and stretching these satin walls while the length is pressed against the deepest most intimate part of you.
Forcing delectable little whimpers and gasps from your haughty lips. Quivering legs now locking ankles behind his back, like a pitiable attempt to hamper him.
That arrogance disgraced to nothing but obscenity upon a wanton face. To see the devil so helpless and lewd under the manipulation of a dragon. What a wonderful sight.
Surely your body remembers his. If not, then he’ll ensure it does now, he’ll engrain it into you for the next life.
One cock slid against the satin ridges of your walls, the other indulging along your searing skin and grinding against your clit. He can’t deny how addictive your body always has been.
Dragging as far back as your locked legs would allow him, the flushed head of one dick kisses your twitching clit, and he sinks back in.
Grunts and purrs reverberate through his throat, teeth clenching as your heat engulfs him again. Reaching deeper into your welcoming core as your lips fall open.
His pace is methodical and controlled to his liking. Drawing out his cock inch by thick inch, sloppy trails of arousal caught on each ridge.
Each time making your core empty and yearning to clench around his girth. Just as a whine would leave your drooling lips, his hips would return to you what your core longed for.
Pushing each tantalizing inch to stroke your starved walls until his skin claps against yours with a wet kiss. Back and forth, back and forth the resounding slaps echoed. Mingling with his low groans and your pitched gasps, creating a sacrilegious yet divine hymn.
Your hand rakes deeper into his toned back possessed by desperation.
A few snowy strands are trapped between your writhing fingers. Pulling him closer to your smoldering skin, causing your clit to grind intensely against his swollen cock, as its twin twitches within your velvety folds.
Those babbles falling from your fed lips, were they pleas for him to bestow upon you leniency or begging him to speed up?
“Do you wish to climax?” A polite façade purrs into your ear.
Lilac eyes were not ignorant to how a devil keens under his body, her gaze drunk off a feverish potion of lust and desire. He could feel it, these velvet walls aching for more, for his girth to jostle your core more, to extinguish this all-consuming ache within you.
“That’s too bad.”
His hips remain steady contrasting against the unevenness of your own pants, unaffected by your desperate mewls. You’ve been selfish enough, you’ve been greedy enough. If he were to grant you a taste of ecstasy, then it’ll be on his terms.
He hasn’t gotten his fill yet, no, he wants to pound his shape forever into these lewd walls. The way they contract and squeeze around his girth with each drive of his hips, they’re practically begging him to.
Thus, he accelerates just a bit more, then a bit more, then a bit more again. Nearly folding you with how flushed he was against you.
The heavy scent of lust, the smothering heat, his unrelenting and unshakable thrusts amalgamating into a spark. One which set the both of you ablaze. Your nails digging into his skin and eyes reaching the back of your head. Sobs and incoherent prattles resound through the room.
Your devious walls clamped around his length with maddening convulsions, gummy muscles suckling to guide his throbbing head to your deepest greed. It was too much.
Neuvillette was powerless as his body pressed yours deeper into the damp sheets, trying to grasp onto any fleeting wisps of control as euphoria overtook him.
Sinking his ravenous teeth into the tangle of the sheets beside your neck, he stifles the admission of his defeat.
A heftiness is spilled within your walls and paints the expanse of your skin in an all-consuming wave. Thick release coating every corner of your core, to finally quell that ravaging heat.
Each subsequent twitch pours more into your crowded cavity and stains your skin. The filthiness of it all seemingly prolongs your sinful depravity.
Chest expanding with pants, pressing your erected nipples against his taut chest. Neuvillette remains buried against you, brutish arms holding your body flush against his.
As if to anchor you, to not allow the turbulent waves of madness to sweep you far from him, or him from you. Keeping your quiver body safe against his.
In the darkness behind his shut lashes, he felt it. Your soft caresses his silky tresses and heaving body. Even as your body heaves and quivers in exhaustion, why must you touch him so tenderly?
Why must you be so cruel? If your hands keep caressing his clammy skin, stroking his peeking scales, he’ll misunderstand.
He’ll believe the delusion that you love him.
Him and not the swaying flower fields of the sunkissed surface.
Whispers cut through the haze of lust and passion, warnings crying for Neuvillette to escape. So he pulls his face from the tangle of sheets, lungs huffing as his eyes find yours.
Exhaustion muddles the hues of your gaze, but not enough to completely smother that glimmer still present. Ah, he knows that that glimmer was.
Even in his heat-induced daze, he’s not naive enough to believe the sincerity presented in your eyes was anything other than duty.
He doesn’t want to be reminded that those hands, which cup his face with such tenderness, are bound by a sense of duty.
A reminder that he’s merely just a stepping stone on the path of your true desire.
He doesn’t want to see it.
The head of his cock parting with a deafening squelch. A darkened gaze follows the pool forming between your splayed legs. Disgruntlement muddles lilac hues.
But such discontent couldn’t last long when the twitch of a neglected length protests. Its bulbous tip longed for its turn within those sticky walls. A primal ordinance he couldn’t resist.
What to call this sensation, to scorn yet desire you just as much.
It wasn’t long before your hips were maneuvered up, your plush ass now up in the air as your quivering arms and face pressed into the sullied sheets.
As one hand supports your unsteady hips. Sharp eyes surveying the puffiness of your cunt, glistening with temptation and dripping with sin.
Hooked fingers slides up the weeping slit, collecting the sacrilegious mixture. Earning an addictive whimper from you when his digits pulled away. Spreading them in front of his gaze, tracing over the stringy nectar stretched between them.
How strange, those lying lips of yours whimper for ‘rest’ and a ‘moment to catch your breath’. Yet your body is still so eagerly exposing itself to his eyes, agape cunt so eagerly twitching and slick.
You don’t even try to writhe yourself away from his hold, not even a single attempt to hide yourself from his hunger.
How skilled you are at fanning the flames, perhaps it's a talent inherent to devils like you. The tempter of all tempters.
You’ve always been like this since the very first rendition.
If only you weren’t so strong-willed. If only you weren’t so clever to trick him. If only you weren’t so enchanting.
Then he wouldn’t have bent to your whims, the sea would’ve cleansed out the mortal filth from stolen land. Then he wouldn’t be trapped in this disgrace of a body. Then he wouldn’t be in love with you.
The betrayal, the disgrace, and this punishment would’ve never happened if only a fool didn’t surrender everything for a mere, fleeting creature.
Why must you make him repeat the same mistake again?
There it was again, that surging torrent within him making its voice known in the echoes of his mind. Whispering the hint on how a dragon would defeat the flame that had scorched him those years ago.
Smother the flame with the tides of depravity and vulgarity. Taint your arrogance with shame.
There wasn’t an ounce of gentleness remaining within his eyes, a beastly hunger taking its place.
Yes, you must pay the debt of reducing him to such a humiliating state.
His neglected cock prods against that greedy cunt of yours. Unmerciful hands bruising the plushness of your hips.
The sinful concoction from the previous sessions allowed his tormented length into your walls without resistance.
The neglected cock finally indulging in the spasms of your abused walls, it’s its turn to bully those weak spots with its thick head.
Sobs sung in broken chokes leave your drooling lips. Trembling fingers enmeshed into the fabric as if to find some ground for your senses to land after their fall from euphoria.
He won’t allow you reprieve. No, not even for a moment. He’ll shatter your sanity and arrogance once and for all.
Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through overstimulation, heavy balls slamming against your swollen lips.
The previous twin cock was now experiencing the hard nub of your engorged clit running along its veins and ridges.
There’s no room for an exchange of words. No, the two of you have long been pasted that point.
No sandy ground beneath as the two of you sank under the ravenous tides of primal instincts and pleasure.
Cacophonous growls, whimpers, and sobs filling the absence along with the thwacks of skin against skin echoed back from the cellar walls.
You keen under the ram of his hips, jostled head writhing against the soiled sheets. The motion allows your hair to fall over your shoulders.
Exposing an untainted patch of skin. Sharp pupils watching how beads of sweat trailing down your nape reflect the azure glow of his body.
An itch assailing his fangs even has his hips continue their barrage against your soft ass. Those lovely vulgar moans wane out from his hearing as his senses could only obsess over the untarnished expanse.
Ah, what if there’s a way for him to pin you here until the stars themselves burn out? You were given to him as his bride.
An offering made to him.
So why can’t he forever confine you within his clutches? Just as you were the original sin which damned him to this cove.
Long tongue dragging along the fresh skin, feeling the jolts of your body.
He’s done it once before, he’s cursed you before. Imprinting a curse upon your very soul, one which followed you through the hands of death and even when the hands of life reformed your body from the earth.
Why not renew it?
Neuvillette pins your upper body further into the tangled bedding, one hand abandoning your hips in favor of raveling in the mess of fabric.
Your heated skin felt against his exhilarated fangs, hungry to sink into your nape.
‘Till death do us part’, that’s not enough.
Such fleeting mortal oaths are much too meek for dragons.
No, those atrocious murmurs in his thoughts command him to curse you in the next life. And the next one, and the one after that as well.
It’s not like your muddled head would understand, nothing but mindless prattles and mewls from the suffocating pleasure only he could ever give you.
But that’s fine, just drown nicely in lust and desire. He’ll always be waiting there at the bottom to drag you down deeper.
Just as the tips of his pointed teeth broke through quivering skin, delicate fingers grasp upon a burly hand.
Intertwining their grasp together upon rumpled linen, a subconscious search for comfort.
An action that remits an iota of reason back to his foggy mind, hazy eyes moving toward the sight of your hand clutched around his.
Even as he’s ravishing your weeping walls, flooding your body with his filthy essence which trickles down your thighs and ass, and chasing his own carnal needs… you still reach for him.
Shamelessly pulling his touch closer, even when the throes of rapture banished all thought from your jostled mind.
A whisper resurfaces amidst the fog and clamor of instinct and rage.
However, it’s a whisper which made his incisors dare not budge another inch. The inkling of truth which he thought he had silenced within the depths of his heart.
The accuracy that this wasn’t love. No, what his instincts craved was not love, it was obsession.
For love was not this sadistic possession, not to curse you just to ease his own damnation.
No, love is supposed to be much like the warmth of your palm flushed against his knuckles.
He remembers now, the lesson you taught him all those years ago. A demonstration witnessed with his own eyes.
Love was sacrifice, just as how you offered yourself to the tides, quelling the rage of a vengeful dragon. Because you loved your village too much to allow them to drown.
Retreating away from the transgression almost committed, fangs repressed behind closed lips. Neuvillette presses a sweet kiss against the shallow wound.
To love you isn’t to steal you away from the embrace of the star who’s forsaken him. It’s to hoist you up to that beloved sunlight. Just where you belonged.
Oh, how could he not love you?
The bride offered to a dragon in a white dress who once dared to command the great beast to stand still as she braided flowers into his hair.
A brazenness contrasted with the gentleness of her smile.
The voices of heart and cruelty rang out in vociferous battle in his mind, Neuvillette buries his face into your shoulder. Pursuing the savor of your skin, pinning you deeper into the tangle of bedding.
Providing more simulation for the pulsing cock wedged against your swollen clit and messy sheets. The neediness of his movements exposed just how close his undoing was.
The hand on your abdomen pulled you impossibly close, adding pressure to the bulging outline of his cock.
Amplifying the ecstasy coursing through your veins, abused walls clamping down on each ridge and each vein of his heft girth. The shape engrained into your wanton core, marvelous sobs and mewls echoing off the empty walls.
Soon those moans become shattered in your throat, eyes rolling back further with each heavy thrust and slap of his balls. Lungs cease all function as rapture unravels you wholly and exhilaration becomes your undoing.
Sloppy contractions mix the repercussions of multitudinous ruination, dripping out your convulsing cunt. Just before a hot surge replenishes the brood that oozed out on the sullied sheets.
Grunts vibrate against your back reminding your body to breathe.
Thick ropes paint your belly and sheets, making an absolute mess. Contracting walls trying but failing to contain the aftershocks from his cock buried deep within, already stretched to their limits, capacity long exceeded. Shudders rack your body and his the same.
With hands still entangled, he coaxes your body around. Granting him a mesmerizing view of your debauched face.
The face he’s so enamored with that he bows his down closer, bodies still connected as he wishes to echt every last detail of you into his being. So that eternity may remember you.
Softness resurfaces in his bones, a tender kiss pressed upon your fingers. Soothing those tremors as he guides your consciousness back to reality.
He holds you, remaining inside as to contain his greed spilled deep inside. The heftiness of his cock prods against your shuddering walls. Every last fiber of your being overstimulated with pulsing pleasure.
Yet, your hand refused to let go. Still holding him toward your exhausted figure in the dying light of the candle.
Whimpers and coos exchanging in a duet of devotion, a hymn so placate it quells the vapid torrents ever so slightly.
Placid fingers drawing circles into your sore back. A gentle lilac gaze keeping watch as your teary eyes retire behind heavy lashes.
Blood and water no matter how much they’re mixed, won’t produce wine.
However, just for tonight in a realm heavy with lust, passion, and phantasm, they’ll craft a wine of delusion. One filled with nothing but wishful fantasy.
This wine of delusion shall be enough to quench the thirst of lascivious compulsions and vengeance.
The gentle caresses of steam ghost past your leaden lashes, lukewarm ripples lap against your skin. Your sore body propped up against the porcelain, as Neuvillette drags a dampened towel along your skin.
A pang of guilt stung him each time the cloth passed over a discolored imprint. No amount of diligent rubs would purify your skin of those bruises in the shape of his fingers.
A stir from muscle gradually awakening from slumber reflected in the wavelets of the bath. The sensation of a damp towel must’ve further jolted your senses back to alertness.
A cerulean glow glistens off the polished surface as your vision finally centers on the figure rising warm water over your limp body.
Attentive eyes immediately connect with yours as he scans your expression for discomfort.
“Are you hurting anywhere?” Neuvillette halts the towel.
You respond with a slow shake, your throat must be too sore to answer. Despite how he tries to conceal them behind a robe, blotches of azure painted along his fair skin.
Proof that draconic influence was still in rebellion of his body. All the while he’s very much aware of your eye’s every move. What an appalling sight it must be for you.
“If I make you uncomfortable I’ll leave promptly, this was just the only solution I could find to bathe-”
“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Voice hoarse as your frame melts closer to his, delicate fingers intertwining with between the spaces of his own scaly fingers.
Allowing your breaths to minge in tandem in the steam-damped tiles of the tranquil bathroom.
“Does it hurt?” A warm thumb traces soft circles along the rough scales along his hand.
Did you catch the subtle twitches and jolts of his muscles? A mortal body rejecting draconic influences, draconic influences revolting against a mortal cage. Still, he shakes his head. Lilac gaze watching your eyes trail between the scales and his eyes with skepticism.
“I’m not quite sure as to why I’m still in this… state.” Neuvillette gives a preemptive answer to the question he assumes to be hanging off your tongue.
“Do you… miss the sea?” However, it seems you had another inquiry hidden in your ever perplexing mind.
A deep sigh resonates through the tranquil air. He stares at the tips of his fingers dipped into the warm water, a taunting substitute for the sea that called for him.
“I suppose it’s natural that I yearn for it…”
A hum was your only response, eyes hidden behind closed lashes. Neuvillette just couldn’t decipher that smile of yours, curled lips reflected over the rippling surface of the steaming water.
“Your body is still delicate, please let us return back to the estate-”
“I might actually grow roots into that bed if I’m to rest there any longer.” A pout was evident in your voice.
Taking a few greater strides, your body pulls in front of Neuvillette’s pace. It was only momentary of course, for he swiftly rejoins your side.
Observant eyes not missing the subtle wobble in your steps along the pastures of the village.
“Please just don’t stray too far.” He relents, offering up his arm for support.
With a gracious smile, your arm curls around his, interlocking your fingers with his as two pairs of steps ambled along the grass.
Soon a familiar pool of water came into view, enticing two pairs of eyes with its glimmering ripples.
What it strange sight those waters showed, a cursed dragon who yearned for his place and a cursed mortal who longed for the sun, two cursed beings holding hands in the reflection along the pristine surface.
“I believe this is far enough. ” His arm pulls your frame closer, a subtle hesitance tainting his tone.
However, your body didn’t budge. Resolute stance not moving even one bit watching your reflection warp and contort in the water. A deep breath echoes off the wall.
“Neuvillette… do you miss the sea?” Your stare parts with the water, now peering straight into his lilac hues.
‘Do you miss the sea?’ You’ve asked him this question many times. He's always given a composite response, but maybe his flowery words diluted the meaning too much to your ears.
“Yes, I do miss the sea.” His candid yearning.
There was a question his lips didn’t dare ask, ‘Do you miss the sun?’, Neuvillette wanted to riposte your questions with this question of his.
But he knew it would be pointless, for he already knew the answer. Wordlessly written all over your melancholic stare into the pond, the longing to return to the sun, to be with blood and not water.
To love you, would be to hoist you up to where you longed to be, in the embrace of the warm sun. Neuvillette had thought he made up his resolve long ago.
However, would it be too selfish of him to wish to turn back?
To convince you to back into the tranquil estate where the Melusines await your return with those dishes you taught them how to cook.
Or maybe would at least try on those gowns still untouched? Could you wait until all those books in the library were read through by your sweet voice?
Would you be oh so kind enough to hold his hand just for a moment longer? At the very least, would you allow him to memorize your warmth?
His grip on your hands tightens ever so briefly, a shaky breath trembles in his chest before he releases it along with the tension in his fingers.
No, it wouldn’t be fair to stall any longer, you deserve your happy ending.
Calmly, the dragon bows his head closer to yours. Ignoring the aggrieved voices that cried for him to swallow back to secret just about to spill from his tongue.
The ending of this tale won’t ever change, for a dragon is just as foolish as he was before.
“My true name is-!” His voice was stunned as a pair of soft lips silenced him.
Your lips pressed against his own, forcing back the secret. His bewildered eyes hone in upon your face, but your lashes were shut as your hands pull his face closer. The resolve wanes from his bones as he sinks into your embrace.
As your lips pull away, gasping for breath. He places his hands atop yours, searching your face for an answer. All he got was that indecipherable smile.
Pulling his face down closer to yours again, your lips find themselves right next to his pointed ears. Under a faint breath which left your parted lips came the secret he kept locked away.
Since when? When did you find his name? Or… did you know this whole time?
Neuvillette reels back in the embrace of your cruel hands. Lilac eyes stare deep into yours, peering through the cracks in that enchanting façade of yours.
Ah, this whole time, did he not discover the false innocence in the irises of the deceptor of all deceptors?
A foolish moth fell for the deception of a devil once again, flying to the flicker of a candle until his wings were charred off into ash.
Those sentences written upon parchment weren’t lies, all other monsters fall secondary to the devil. Even a dragon.
“Why?” Was all he could muster, oh cruel devil why did you play him a fool once more?
“Because I wanted to see you again… but I knew you wouldn’t quite share the same sentiment since the moment I heard your voice… so I lied,” Those audacious eyes of yours never looked away.
Ah, how could he forget how crafty and observant a devil is with her schemes? The charming enchantment as she performs her deceptions. Speaking shameless lies with those bewitching lips.
“If you wanted to see me… then that day at the loch… why weren’t you there?” The stir of the torrent within put a snarl into his throat.
Why must you keep lying to him?
Ah, from the start, Neuvillette should’ve listened to the clamorous cries of his instincts. To withdraw away from the flame, to extinguish the hell fires before they left another lesson learned upon his skin.
Yet, he’s still within the embrace of your cruel hands. His body just wouldn’t pull away.
Just what is this level of stupidity called? For a moth to still crave the warmth of the flame which charred its wings into ash. Just what is this lunacy called?
“The nobles locked me away after those tyrants stole your name from my tongue, they locked me away.” Torment brewing in those irises which reflected him.
A chill staggers the surge of the torrent, an icy sting which stupefied the rampaging currents.
For generations upon generations of scribes and poets never penned this detail down in any rendition of a classically beloved tale.
“I begged them, I banged against the bars of the cell, even clawed at the stone walls until my fingers were raw, but they left me there to rot in the cold… I just wanted to see you one last time, just once more.” Those bitter pools formed in your penitent eyes spill over.
This wasn’t how the tale was supposed to end. The maiden, who deceived a dragon for her people, was supposed to be hailed a hero. You were supposed to have a happy ending, so why didn't you get that?
“All I ever wanted was for you and me to walk amongst humanity… look where that got us…” Tears descend from your cheeks and onto the grass below, a humorless chuckle.
Was this another lie falling from those saccharine lips of yours? Sugar dusted on the shell of a vile trick? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.
“That foolish wish of mine… it must’ve been so painful. I’m so sorry.” Your thumb traces over the scales dotted over his cheek, evidence of a draconic rebellion against a mortal condemnation.
Does your touch scorn or soothe him? Neuvillette wasn’t sure anymore.
“I’m sorry. I’ll say sorry one thousand times if you wish.” A tremor in your voice.
The surge within him couldn’t sustain itself, faltering and receding back to a placid, pathetic ripple. Perhaps… It's tired.
Tired of holding onto this futile grudge. Not when the bitter answers its tides were ravenous for had finally sunk in.
He takes a deep breath, collecting his resolve.
“...what… what do you wish for?” Just how will this rendition end? Neuvillette doesn’t know.
But he knows his hands should hold onto yours, desperately etching the details of your tender touch into its memory. Rations to sustain him for the rest of a solitary eternity.
He hears your slow inhale, preparing your throat to speak your selfish desires.
“I wish for your curses to become mine alone to bear.” You reveal your selfish wish, pressing the voucher of freedom into his hands.
He had that look on his face again. Disbelief stupefied each muscle of his dashing face, wide eyes peering into yours trying to find the hint of a jest. Your gaze doesn’t waiver as your finger tightens around his.
“Grant me my wish… please.” Lips stretching with a reassuring smile.
His lips press into a thin line, face returning to its place between your warm hands, he takes a deep breath. Perhaps it’s just his sense of responsibility and fairness that compelled him to fulfill this wish.
Or maybe, the dragon just couldn’t help but submit to the whims of his beloved, a statement that remained no matter what rendition of the tale it was.
Releasing the breath he held, the shift in the air was palpable, a lightness in his chest. The pond off to the side billows momentarily, drawing focus toward its excited ripples.
Releasing his hold, feet leading him to the side of the saltwater before his mind could process his own actions.
He could hear it again, the hymns of the water singing the end of his exile. Reaching out a hand, it sinks past the cool surface, the tides welcoming back their prince with mellow kisses.
The ocean calls for him, so why is he still staring back at you? The one who’ll never embrace the sea again for the rest of her life, nor ever feel the sway of Summer days in a field full of Pluie Lotus. His eyes conveyed a question his lips couldn’t bear to ask. Thus, you give the answer he seeks.
“Think of it as my reparations to you, an overdue apology for my mistake, for making you to suffer so much.” That glimmer in your eyes, one he understands now.
Moving the hex to a body whose true master was the mistress of time, a body blessed with mortality. If a miracle isn’t enough to make a curse break, then perhaps the tides of time could.
Taking a piece of the curse with each tick of a clock, just like how the waves take with it grains of sand from warm beaches.
Once a withered mortal body is called back to the earth, the clauses will be fulfilled after many centuries. Unsettled grudges eroded away like those sandy banks.
Until the pull of the ground makes its visible influence on your skin. Until your locks come to resemble the snowy shade you’ve lovingly run your fingers through. Until the sweet earth hums for you to embrace it once more, you shall remain here.
What a clever scheme it all is, a masterful plan which could only ever be conjured by you. You devil, oh so devious, devil.
“You can hate me, I won't hold it against you,” you whisper. “May this tale end in your happiness, let me do this much for you.”
A bitter bile festers at those lies of yours. How could such lies fall from your lips so easily when they always left such a vile taste upon his tongue?
Gaze honed in upon your frame, watching the gentle smile hold back the slight quiver of your shoulders. He stands back up, slow strides returning him to your side. Taking your hands into his larger ones, placing your soft touch back along his cheeks.
“Silence… I won’t hear such deceit.” Snowy locks brushing against your fingertips.
“But I wasn’t lying…” Confusion furrows your brow, but your hands remain cupping his face.
Moving away, he studies the rivulets of regret and anguish that leave bitter trails down your cheeks. He swallows back the objections clawing up his throat, such vile words don’t belong on your tongue.
“How could I hate you?” he confesses.
Neuvillette has finally come to a realization. All those renditions, all those differing retellings of a classic tale. He had read them all wrong, basis clouding his interpretation.
For the princess did love her dragon. Just as he loved her, all this time.
Together in the depths of a cave away from the prying eyes of the divine. Breaths in time with one another as they stand in the embrace of one another, until the dragon bows his head back down.
Touching his forehead to hers, so that maybe Neuvillette could get a glimpse into that ever mystical mind of yours.
“How can I ever hate what I’ve coveted for so long?” He asks.
That ever-stirring torrent, that spiteful surge, where did it go? Those clamorous voices with their vengeful snarls and cynical bellows, why weren’t they intrepid enough to direct those foul words toward you?
Not you, never you. How could they ever hate you, the heroine of a Fontainian fairytale they’ve pitifully yearned for so long?
“Am… am I loved then?” Your lashes were squeezed shut as if death was rapping upon them. Too cowardly to face the verdict.
“Yes… yes, you devious devil…” Neuvillette couldn’t help but chuckle at such an endearing sight.
He feels your fingers tense around his skin, astonishment in the features of your face. It soon melts away into those welling pools as a smile pushes against the corners of your eyes.
Pressing your forehead to his, a warm droplet rolls down your cheek and over the curve of your lips. He simply rests his head against yours.
Only now in the last sentence of this retelling of a tale which has been twisted, distorted, and embellished away from the initial narrative did an unwritten truth emerge.
A clever maiden was just as foolish as a proud dragon. The weight of their foolishness was so great it dragged them beneath the waves and kept them in a cove deep away from the prying eyes of gods.
However, if this idiotic dragon could intertwine his fingers with yours. If he could be by your side until the hands of time call you back to the earth in this final rendition.
If he could be the happy ending you deserved, then he wouldn’t mind in the slightest.
In which Red Riding Hood gets the creamiest of the pies!
werewolf!Varka x fem!reader
wordcount: ~4100
TWs: MNDI, PWP, fairy tale vibes, predator/prey, size difference, age gap (he calls reader lil' Red, but reader IS NOT a minor) possessive behavior, manhandling, implied kidnapping. NSFW: non-con to dub-con to con, virginity loss, knotting, breeding kink, dacryphilia, creampie, Varka is in heat, oral sex (f receiving), a tiny bit of rimming and anal play marking/claiming, serving pussy so good he sees Celestia.
(If you find some more, please let me know.)
As usual, thank you all, my dear sweethearts, for your support!
NOT SUITED FOR MINORS. Not proofread. Author does not endorse or condone any of the actions depicted in real life. Also, English is not the author's first language, so there might be some mistakes.
Please remember that you are responsible for your own media consumption.
“Just one bite…”
You clutched the wicker basket tighter, while Momma’s warning echoed in your ears: “Be careful, my darling girl. The Big Bad Wolf haunts the woods of Wolvendom. Walk as fast as you can and don’t you dare to stop, or he’ll get you.”
But the pie, nestled in your basket under a red-checkered cloth, sang a siren song of cinnamon and sugar, of buttery crust and tender fruit. You, all dolled up in your favorite little red dress, red woolen stockings, and the scarlet cloak, had walked for nearly one hour before the gluttony won.
“A small taste,” you whispered to the silent trees, your voice swallowed by the thick moss and shadow. “A crumb. Just to see.”
You found a stump, set your basket upon it, and lifted the cloth. The aroma that burst forth was obscenely delicious, making your mouth water. You broke a piece of flaky golden crust with your fingers, moaning softly as the flavor melted on your tongue.
Then another.
And another.
Lost in it, you were feasting in the forbidden wood, your cheeks dusted with sugar, fingers sticky, and belly warm from your momma’s fine pastry.
That’s when The Big Bad Wolf himself stepped into your sight. One moment, the clearing was empty, the next he was there, parting from the shadows between two great oaks.
The piece of pie dropped from your fingers at the sight.
The figure before you was gigantic, and the scandalous state of undress did nothing to hide his monumental form. Sun-kissed skin, stretched taut over a terrain of thick muscle, was marred by a map of silvery scars that spoke of countless battles. A light dusting of golden hair, catching the dappled forest light, traced the hard lines of his torso, leading down past the stark V of his hips.
His face held a wild charm, a rough stubble dusting a jaw that looked capable of crushing bone. And his eyes… they were a blue so piercing and knowing it felt uncanny. They saw the tremor in your hands, the traitorous hitch in your breath, the coil of heat tightening low in your belly despite your terror. Two large wolf ears, a shade darker than his tousled blonde hair, twitched and pivoted at your every whimper, attuned to the frantic rabbit-beat of your heart. Behind him, a magnificent golden tail lashed once through the air with a soft swish, betraying his interest.
But your gaze, horrified and helplessly fascinated, was dragged downward. Between his tree-trunk thighs, utterly unabashed, it stood – a thick, ruddy, obscene length of flesh, heavy with prominent veins. It wasn't fully upright but jutted forward with a weighty promise, the tapered tip already beading with a single pearl of moisture that caught the dappled forest light. It gave a slight bob as you stared, making your own breath stutter in response. The air grew thick, charged with the scent of pine, musk, and something feral.
You stumbled back with a shriek, clutching the basket and holding it in front of you like a shield. “S-stay back!”
The sound that rumbled from his chest was deep and grating, startling you for a second.
“Whoa there, lil’ Red! Easy! I don’t bite… much.” He took a casual step forward, his nostrils flaring. “Gods. That smell...” He inhaled deeply, and a smile spread across his face, revealing sharp canines. “The sweetest pie.”
“Take it then!” you squealed, thrusting the basket toward him, squeezing your eyes shut. “Just take the pie and don’t hurt me!”
“Hmm?” He plucked the basket from your trembling hands, sniffed it once, and threw it aside without a glance. “No, no, silly thing. Not that pie.”
A large hand closed around your wrist. You gasped, eyes opening wide to meet his blazing blues. They were glazed, half-lidded with a hunger you barely understood.
“Name’s Varka, lil’ Red,” he growled, “and I’ve just caught the ripest scent in whole damn Wolvendom.”
“No!” You tried to pull back, but his grip was iron. “Let me go! I have to go to my grandmother!”
“Grandma can wait,” he purred, his other hand coming up to push the hood of your cloak back. His fingers tangled in your hair, appreciating your beautiful locks before yanking you against the unyielding wall of his body. The impact knocked the air from your lungs, and you were acutely aware of every sculpted ridge of his abdomen and chest pressed against you. The hard line of his erection, throbbing with a slow pulse, pressed against your belly, searing hot even through the layers of your dress. You whimpered in pure terror, and your high-pitched sound ignited something feral in his eyes.
A terrified “Please!” was all you managed before his fingers, tipped with claws that lightly scored the fabric, closed on the front of your dress. With a brutal tear, the pretty red fabric turned into a shredded remnant in his massive fist. You stumbled backwards, and your ass hit the soft moss of the forest floor.
Varka kneeled and loomed over you, a mountain of scarred muscle and primal intent, blotting out the sky. His blue eyes, the pupils dilated into dark pools, glinted with a heat that had nothing to do with violence. His gaze lingered on your exposed belly and the tender swell of your breasts rising and falling with panicked breaths. Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest, a futile shield.
“Still tryin' to be modest, sweet Red?” Varka rumbled fondly, a low growl lacing the words. His knee, rough with hair and corded muscle, pressed insistently between your thighs, using his overwhelming weight to force your shaking legs apart. The cool forest air kissed your skin, making you shudder. “No need for that. Let’s have a proper look at what’s makin' all that sweet smell.”
You thrashed like the sweetest prey, your red stockings snagging and tearing against something in the moss. “Please, no – the pie, take the pie!”
“Hah! I’ve told you,” he snarled, leaning down so his hot breath, carrying the wild scent of his arousal, fanned your face. His rough stubble scratched your cheek as he nipped at your earlobe. “I’m not interested in the one in the basket.”
You felt his hands, rough like weathered bark, completely engulf your hips, his thumbs digging into the soft flesh of your inner thighs as he spread you open wider. With another rip, this one accompanied by the sickening sound of torn lace, the remaining skirts and your delicate panties were rendered into useless shreds. You screamed, kicking back wildly. Your heel connected with the solid rock of his thigh, which only made his cock, now fully erect and angrily red, jump and leak a thick strand of precum onto your inner thigh.
“Feisty! I like the fight in ya!” Varka laughed wholeheartedly, and his wolf ears flattened against his skull in concentration. His lips find the shell of your ear, whispering intimately, “Gon’ lick ya stupid, lil’ Red. Gotta taste what I'm goin’ to destroy...”
Before you could plead again, his mouth descended. His lips and tongue were a brand of fire, trailing down, sucking violent hickeys into the tender skin of your neck, your collarbone, the trembling swell of your breast. Varka stopped over your pert nipple, sucking the innocent flesh deep into the scorching cavern of his mouth, teasing the poor bud mercilessly with the rasp of his rough tongue, then bit slightly around it, his sharp canines leaving a perfect red circle of indents around your tortured peak.
The mix of pain and shocking pleasure made you grab fistfuls of unruly hair near his ears and tug. This only elicited a low growl of approval from him as he released your poor flesh with an obscene pop.
“Tha’s it… Ya startin’ to look like mine, Red.” He admired the darkening mark with a possessive gleam in his eye before continuing his relentless journey south, licking a broad stripe down your belly, his nose inhaling deeply, savoring the salt of your sweat and the sweet feminine scent beneath. As his handsome face came level with your loins, hidden in shy curls and glistening with your own betraying arousal, Varka stared at your slit, appreciating the delicacy of his next meal.
"Here's the pie I crave," he murmured, and buried his nose in your curls, sniffing like a starved bloodhound at a feast. A rumbling groan of appreciation rattled in his chest, and, drunk on your scent, he finally licked a burning path from your dripping entrance all the way up to your swollen clit.
You jerked as if struck by lightning, a broken cry torn from your throat at the white-hot bolt of pleasure that seared through the numbness of your terror. Your toes coiled against the damp moss, and your hips gave an involuntary jerk towards his greedy mouth. Varka growled, the sound shaking his entire frame and vibrating deliciously against your labia.
“Oh, fuck,” his voice was muffled against your slick folds. He lapped at you again, broader, slower, more proprietary, his broad nose nudging insistently against your clit as his tongue parted your inner lips, prodding at your leaking hole, savouring the taste. “Hit a jackpot. Cunt sweet as honey and ripe as a fucking peach. You knew what you did, coming into my woods ovulating, didn’t ya?”
With that, Varka hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, the red wool of your torn stocking being a stark contrast against his sun-tanned skin. Dipping back, he pressed his face to your cunt so tight that his nose flattened your poor clit, and his tongue became relentless when you whimpered at the sensation. It speared inside you, fucking you with shallow thrusts that made you sob and gush more of your honey into his thirsty mouth. Then it flattened, dragging over your clit in tight, dizzying circles that had your back arching off the ground against your will, your hands flying to his head once again.
This time, though, you didn't try push him away. Instead, your fingers tangled in his hair, the gesture caught between a plea to stop and a desperate pull for more. Varka held you down easily, one huge hand splaying possessively over your lower belly, pinning you, urging you to gush out more sweetness against his face.
With his tongue on you, in you, you were becoming boneless, melting slowly, the forest canopy spinning above you. Tears of shame and pleasure streaked your temples.
“Va– Vah–!” you tried to plead, but found yourself unable to speak when he sucked at your clit again.
“Sho– shooo fuckin’ shweet,” he snarled between licks, his hands coming up to cruelly pinch and roll your neglected nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, kneading the soft swell afterwards. He shifted, nuzzling lower, his wet nose tracing a path further down. His tongue, eager and curious, darted to tease the tight pucker of your other hole, kissing and licking it with blunt pressure.
“Ah! N-not there!” you shrieked, jolting as if struck.
“Everywhere,” Varka corrected hungrily, his voice muffled between your thighs. “But for now…” His tongue returned to your weeping slit with renewed fervor, drinking from you, licking up like a starved mutt, then sucking your raw clit into his mouth with obscene gusto, smearing more of your juices all over his stubbled cheeks and chin, biting at the tender nub ever so gently with his teeth.
The culmination was too vast to fight, and, with another teasing nip, you came, body convulsing violently under the prison of his mouth and hands, your vision whiting out as waves of shameful pleasure wracked you. Varka tugged at your nipples again and drank every spasm, every drop, his growls of satisfaction vibrating through your very core.
“Fuck yeah,” he panted, lifting his head, his face glistening with your release. “Jus’ a small appetizer before the main feast.” As you lay there trembling, utterly wrecked and puddled on your own red cloak, he moved up your body. His immense weight settled over you, supported only by his forearms, deliciously crushing the air from your lungs. The intimidating length of his fully erect cock, its ruddy skin flushed dark and slick with his pre-cum, pressed insistently against your quivering entrance. He nudged impatiently, and you felt the tapered tip catch and begin to part your swollen hole.
“W-wait!”
Varka did not.
With a single, powerful, and utterly devastating thrust, he fully sheathed himself inside you, and white-hot pain obliterated everything. You didn’t hear yourself scream, and didn’t feel how your nails dug into his scarred shoulders, scoring thin red lines over old silvered wounds, as more tears escaped your eyes. There was a tearing in your abdomen, a stretching beyond comprehension, a burning invasion that split you open around a thickness you could not fathom, and a hot trickle of blood joining the mess of fluids between your legs.
Varka halted, his entire body going rigid above you. His nostrils flared, sniffing audibly at the coppery new scent mingling with your arousal in the air. His pupils dilated into vast pools, the blazing blue nearly swallowed whole by dawning realization.
“Well, I’ll be a son of a bitch,” he breathed, his voice a thick rumble of lust and sudden wonder. He pulled back just enough to look down between your joined bodies. A smear of vivid crimson painted the thick root of his cock, a stark, virgin red glistening around the veined flesh and the swollen knot at its base. A profound change came over him. The rowdy predator was still there, thrumming in the tense cord of his muscles, but it was now layered with something else – an almost reverent gentleness. The low growl in his chest softened into a deep purr, and his tail began to thump a joyful rhythm against the moss behind him.
“Ah, sweetheart...” he murmured, the words gravelly with awe. Varka lowered his head, his stubbled jaw scraping gently against your cheek as he nuzzled you, his large wolf ears swiveling forward to catch every hitched breath. He licked the tears from your skin with surprisingly soft licks, the action slow and soothing, like a dog trying to calm his owner.
“Shhh, lil’ Red, you’re good… Givin’ your first to a Big Bad Wolf…” He kissed your eyelids, your cheeks, the corner of your mouth, his actions bizarrely tender even as his monstrous erection stayed lodged deep inside your pussy, the heat of him a brand on your very core, stretching you with a fullness that bordered on torture.
“Gonna make it so good for you, you’ll beg for more, yeah? For now, be a good girl and relax, ‘key?”
Varka stayed like that for long minutes, kissing and cooing, letting his weight envelop you, letting your body adjust to his monstrous invasion. The burning pain slowly began to transmute into an unbearable fullness. You felt stuffed, speared, owned. And as he began to move – a shallow rock of his hips – withdrawing almost all the way before sliding back in with aching slowness, the pain melted into a pleasure so intense it felt like dying.
“M–more!” you sobbed, back arching into him needily.
He cradled your head in his calloused palms, kissing your face as he thrusted. Each gradually deepening move punched a soft whimper from your lips. Needing to anchor yourself, your hands found his bulging forearms, clinging weakly. Varka made a pleased sound deep in his chest and gathered you closer, the hot, musky scent of his sweat and skin enveloping you.
“That’s it,” he grunted, his composure beginning to fracture as the rut reclaimed him, his gentle rhythm growing more insistent, the slap-slap-slap of his flesh against yours growing louder in the quiet glade. “Submit, lil’ Red. It’ll feel even better...”
Slowly, but surely, the world broke apart. Each piston-like drive of his hips punched the breath from your lungs and smashed the tapered tip of his cockhead against the mouth of your womb, making you see stars. The wet, filthy sound of him pounding your sloppy cunny filled the air, louder than your cries.
“That’s it, baby,” Varka roared, his own composure shattering, his claws extending just enough to prick the skin of your hips, “So tight, so hot around me– fuck! Gon’ knot you so full!”
One hand gripped your hip so hard you knew there would be bruises in the shape of his fingers. The other wrapped in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat for his biting, sucking, kissing. His teeth grazed your pulse point, not breaking skin, but promising the mark. Your breasts, freed from your dress, bounced and jiggled wildly with every brutal thrust.
You were beyond thought at this point. Cock-drunk, mindless, pounded into the wet moss by a Big Bad Wolf himself. Your legs, which had been pushing weakly at his sides, now locked around his waist, your heels digging into the small of his back, just above the base of his thrashing tail, trying to pull him deeper, to feel the burgeoning pressure of his knot against your ravaged hole.
“Va– Varka! P-please… mo– ore!” you heard yourself beg, the words slurred and shattered by each devastating plunge.
He laughed, a joyous sound echoing in his chest. “Such a greedy little virgin I caught! Wants it all, doesn’t she?” His eyes, glowing with feral adoration, devoured your mindless form. “Ride it then, baby! Take what you need from me!”
In a dizzying display of strength, he rolled onto his back, keeping you seamlessly impaled. Your world spun as you found yourself straddling him, your hands on his hairy chest, his shaft buried to the hilt inside your clutching pussy. Varka folded his powerful arms behind his head, muscles bulging, and grinned up at you with wolfish delight, his golden tail thumping against the moss. “Earn your cream, lil’ Red. Show this ol’ wolf what yer made of.”
You tried to move, but managed only a shallow rise before sinking back down, a needy sob catching in your throat. Seeing your struggle, the vestige of the predator vanished, replaced by a guiding lust.
“Aww, poor Red... Let the Big Bad Wolf help ya,” Varka murmured, and his large hands settled on your hips. He began to guide you, lifting you with ease until just the swollen tip of him remained inside, then pulling you down slowly, sheathing you back onto his girth like a toy.
“Like that, yeah?” he encouraged, his blue eyes holding yours. “Use me, darlin’. Take a ride.”
With his help, you found a rhythm – a slow, deep, rolling grind that dragged every inch of his veined shaft against places that made you see Celestia behind your eyelids. You rose and fell with a wet plap-plap-plap, aided by the upward thrusts of his own hips, meeting him in a syncopated dance of mounting frenzy, your head thrown back in abandon.
“Look at ya,” he panted, his hands leaving your hips to cup your breasts, kneading the soft flesh with rough reverence. “First timer, and already ridin’ that cock like a pro, yeah? Bouncing on it like you were born for it. Want my cream tha’ bad?”
“Please! Varka! Give it to me– I need it– I need you!” You nodded frantically, slamming yourself down onto him despite the tang of pain in your cunny, meeting his upward thrusts desperately. The base of his shaft, that threatening swell of his knot, began to stretch you even wider with every bounce.
“Come on my cock then!” he ordered, his voice a guttural snarl. “Squeeze it out of my balls! Let me put a litter in you!”
“I’m gonna– Please–!” You shattered. Your orgasm was a tidal wave, violent and all-consuming. Your cunt clamped down on him like a vise, rippling and convulsing around the intrusive thickness, milking his length in rhythmic, desperate pulses.
“That’s my good girl!” Varka howled, his heart banging against his ribs, eyes rolling back.
“Gon’ cum!” was his final warning. His face contorted in ecstatic release as he sat up halfway, wrapping his arms around your waist in a crushing embrace. With one final, powerful upward surge of his hips, his knot slid past your resisting entrance with a wet pop, locking him inside you. At the same moment, you felt the tip of his cock kiss your cervix, delivering hot his spent right into your fertile little womb.
For a blinding second, his vision whited out entirely, and in the void, Varka swore he saw you – not the trembling girl on top of him, but a maker wearing your face, baring teeth in a sharp smile of absolute approval.
Ah, fuck.
The realization was a different kind of punch, landing in the gut as his body was still wracked by the last waves of release.
Letting you go? Ha! Absolute bullshit!
Not now. Not ever. Not after he’d just nutted his very fucking soul and brain into your shy cunny. Not when you’d taken him – all of him, the fear and the fury and the frantic need – and met his frenzy with an eager rhythm of your own. Not when your shattered moans of his name had sounded less like pleas and more like a prayer.
“Mine,” Varka finally decided, hands flying to the meat of your bruised thighs, making sure that he marked them with his fingertips properly, “My pretty Red…”
You collapsed forward onto his chest, sending you two to fall on the soft moss, sobbing through the endless pulses that filled you, feeling your belly grow warm and heavy.
Varka held you through it all, one rough hand splayed over your lower back, the other groping and spreading your ass, his middle finger teasingly pressing an insistent circle against your butt in a promise for later. Even when you went limp, his hips never stopped their shallow jerks, pumping his cum against your cervix in spurts until he was utterly spent and sure it would take. When he could speak, Varka looked down on you, draped so fucking adorably over his massive body. His blue eyes were sated, possessive.
“So, my lil’ Red,” he murmured, his thumb stroking over your hip. He shifted slightly, making you both aware of the warm seep of his spend already beginning to leak out around the knot still plugging you. “Grandma’s not getting her pie. Not now, not later, not ever.”
You lifted your face to stare at him, and his tail began a happy wag against the moss at the sight of your dazed, fucked-out, questioning expression. Varka leaned in, licking a broad stripe from the corner of your swollen lips up to your temple, and you blushed adorably, hiding your beautiful face in his hairy chest and nuzzling into it like a needy pup. “But her granddaughter… she’s getting all the pies she deserves.”
As the knot began to soften, he pulled from your tarnished cunt with an obscene sound, making you whimper at the sudden emptiness and the flood of gush that followed.
In one swift motion, Varka stood, tossing you over his broad shoulder like a prize. Your head hung down his back, your sore cunt openly dripping its creamy load in a thick trail down the inside of your leg and onto the forest floor. He turned his head, his blue eyes darkening with renewed hunger as he watched the evidence of his claim leak from your raw cunny. Smirking, he ran a hot tongue up your outer thigh.
“Breedin’ season’s on us, my lil’ mate,” Varka growled, the words a hot rumble against your skin as his fingers dug possessively into the soft flesh of your ass. He began to move, walking deeper into his territory, his thick tail lashing with primal satisfaction. “My den’s where you belong. Gon’ take you home and keep that pie full of my cream ‘til you’re properly fat with my pups.”
He leaned down, his breath scalding against your skin before his teeth sank in, making you tremble and marking the curve of your ass, a promise of bruises and bite marks to come. A low, predatory chuckle vibrated through him as he laved the stinging spot with a broad, rough stroke of his tongue.
“And Big Bad Wolf has lots of cream to share.”
.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated!
Series Masterlist: Creatures Features
Next part: Pride Rock (Hard) (LionHybrid!JingYuan x fem!reader)
Honestly, I liked it so much when I'd finished the first draft. But after I edited it... I don't know, it feels kinda drier than I intended it to be. I need to know if I'm the only one who thinks so, so please, don't hesitate to leave a comment! c:
W-Will there be more of the “chosen by the sinner”…? That was so good. (I’m totally not down bad for how Rerir manhandled us)
ᴄʜᴏꜱᴇɴ ʙʏ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱɪɴɴᴇʀ
I Part 1 I Part 2 I Part 3 (you are here!)
Yandere!Rerir x GN!Reader
TW/WARNINGS: Minors DNI!! smut, kidnapping, obsessive/yandere themes, reader is implied as female (idk how smut works for GN), manhandling, claws, rough seggs?, biting, marking, idk
Summary: :> UHHHHHHH
Word count: 2.7k
NOT PROOFREAD
W-Well u-u-umm this is my first time writing smut (╥﹏╥)(╥﹏╥)
Silvermoon Hall felt safer than it ever had.
After the last incident, the Hall feels like a safeplace wrapped in reverent moonlight.
You sat on the balcony rail, watching the kuuhenki roam around while Columbina still hasn’t returned from Hiisi Island, leaving you alone in the vast, shimmering cave.
You breathe out slowly.
The moonlight through the caves openings paints soft circles on the floor.
You trace them idly with your toe.
For the first time in days, your chest loosens.
But then—
A soft, wrong tremor hums through the ground.
Not like footsteps.
Not like magic.
More like… a breath being drawn directly beneath the floor.
Your head lifts instantly. Maybe the Traveller and Paimon are back with Columbina.
“…Traveller?” you call ,"Hello…?”
Only silence answers.
Not even Paimon’s usual chatter.
The quiet shifts as if the world is holding itself completely still for something.
You feel the hair at the back of your neck lift.
And then the temperature changes.
The air behind you grows colder, dense as a shadow pressing against your spine.
You freeze, utterly unsettled and equally terrified.
A whisper curls at your ear, making your frenzied breath hitch, “You called?”
His breath touched your neck before his fingers did. A hand slid over your hip—slowly guiding you backward into a cold, familiar body.
“This place suits you,” Rerir murmured, his nose brushing the curve of your ear, “With all this quiet and gentleness. You look like you belong in my hands.”
Your pulse jumped at his words and he felt it. A low laugh vibrated against your back.
“Mm. Still so loud…” his fingertips traced the line of your throat, “even when you don’t speak.”
You tried to twist away but his arm tightened—a lazy, unhurried kind of restraint.
“I told you,” he whispered, voice sinking into your spine like warm poison. “No one is coming back in time.”
Your blood chills.
You don’t turn around. You can’t turn around.
How did he find you so fast?
His presence settles behind you like a wolf lowering its head over a trembling bunny.
“R—Rerir…” you manage, barely.
A soft exhale touches your skin, almost like a laugh, “Did you think walls could keep me from you?”
A gloved finger trails from the back of your ear down the line of your jaw—slow, tracing you like you’re something precious and fragile.
“I gave you a head start,” he murmurs, “and yet here you are, still waiting for me. Standing perfectly still… as if you wanted to be caught.”
Your heart slams, your hands shake, “No— I didn’t—”
“Didn’t you?” His voice drops, velvet and lethal.
“I’ve watched you, you know. Hours now. Alone in this hall, wandering in circles… playing with the little kuuhenki..."
His breath grazes your neck, his face dangerously close to your throat.
“Missing me?”
Your knees weaken at that.
A soft chuckle vibrates against your ear as if he feels the way your body reacts.
You can't just stand there like a defenseless damsel, you visionless idiot. You can't expect to be saved every time.
Not like you could ever defeat him, or even land a scratch on him but you had to at least stall.
But, if the others showed up, Silvermoon Hall would become an ugly battlefield, its beauty and serenity would be tarnished.
You couldn't let that happen. This place meant a lot to Columbina. This was her safe place and it was yours too.
Then—
The temperature plummets.
He spins you around suddenly catches your wrist in a single, precise movement.
Not painful or rough.
More like… final.
His grip radiates abyssal cold straight into your veins, numbing, claiming, crawling up your arm like frost.
You gasp, trying to pull back—
He reels you in instead, bodies almost touching, the abyss shimmering in his eyes like twin voids that could swallow the world.
“Found you,” he says softly.
Your breath hitches and he doesn't miss it. Of course he doesn't.
“Rerir— wait—”
He lifts your chin with two fingers, “Too late.”
SHRRRING—
The air splits open behind him, revealing a dark rift swirling like a living storm.
Your stomach drops. You know where that portal leads too.
no. no. no. traveller and paimon aren't back. where are they??? why aren't they here yet—
As if reading your mind, Rerir’s smile curves slow and sinful.
“They already have.”
Your breath halts and he turns your face toward the entrance.
Through the archway, far down the hall, you see shapes—Traveller and Paimon running back, shouting your name, their hands reaching out—
But the portal stretches, warps, distorts like a mirage.
The space between you and them elongates endlessly.
You scream their names—
But they can’t reach you.
Traveller dashes forward instantly, wind current blazing around him—
Too late.
Rerir’s arms close around your waist, pulling you back against him as the abyss swallows the floor under your feet. “That’s it,” he murmured, lips brushing your jaw, “stay still for me.”
“Say goodbye," his whispered claim is the last thing you hear before the hall disappears.
The world folds around you like a blanket of midnight, pressing closer until you can no longer distinguish where your body ends and Rerir's domain begins.
Rerir's hands remain on you, one gripping your hip, the other splayed across your stomach, anchors in an ocean of void.
When you try to breathe, the very air seems to resist, thick and heavy, infused with the scent of frost and ancient things.
Your heart thuds against your ribs like a trapped bird, each beat echoing back at you in the oppressive silence as if the darkness itself has a pulse that matches your terror.
Something shifts inside you again, a warmth blooming beneath the cold of his touch. It spreads through your veins like liquid sunlight, tinged with a hint of danger.
You gasp as your skin begins to glow with a soft, amber light, visible even in the absolute darkness of the Abyss. The illumination is faint but undeniable, revealing for the first time the silhouette of Rerir's hands on your body.
His breath catches behind you, and for the first time, you detect something other than predatory confidence in him—awe.
The darkness pulses with the rhythm of your racing heart.
Your body, betrayed by your own senses, arches into his touch as Rerir's gloved fingers trace the line of your jaw, tilting your head just so.
His other hand slides from your hip around to the small of your back, pressing you closer until there is no space left between you. The heat of him seeps through your clothes, making your skin prickle with anticipation.
You can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against yours, a stark counterpoint to your own shallow and ragged breaths.
"Beautiful," he whispers, the word a caress against your ear. His fingers trail down your throat, pausing at your pulse point where he can feel the frantic beating of your heart.
"So responsive, so alive in the dark." His thumb presses gently against the sensitive skin there, making you swallow convulsively.
The amber glow from your own body intensifies, bathing the small space between you in warm light that makes the leather of his gloves gleam like wet ink.
He watches you and you feel the weight of his gaze as heavy as a physical touch. His hands move with purpose now, one sliding up to cup the back of your neck while the other traces patterns across your abdomen.
The fabric of your shirt bunches under his touch, and you gasp as cold leather meets heated skin directly.
Rerir makes a low sound of approval as your body responds to him, arching instinctively.
His fingers explore with intimate knowledge, as though he's known your body for centuries rather than minutes.
They trace the curve of your waist, dip into the hollow of your hips, and then—slowly, they slide beneath your skirt.
His claws slide against your bare skin with a searing intimacy that makes you gasp. The texture of his claws—calloused yet impossibly sensitive—traces patterns while dipping lower with each pass until you're writhing against him, a silent plea in the arch of your back.
"Look at you," Rerir murmurs, his voice a low vibration against your throat where he now presses open-mouthed kisses, "Glowing for me."
His hands move to the waistband of your panties, fingers hooking into the fabric with a deliberate slowness that is more agonizing than haste could ever be.
You hear the soft tear of fabric giving way, feel the cool air of the Abyss against your suddenly exposed flesh, and then nothing—nothing but the unbearable anticipation of his next move.
When his claws finally slide between your thighs, you cry out, the sound echoing strangely in the void.
His touch is knowing, veryyy precise—finding the places that make you gasp, the ones that make you beg.
"R-Rerir—," his name falls from your lips like a prayer, and he rewards you with a deep chuckle that vibrates through his entire body and into yours.
The darkness contracts around you, cocooning you both in an intimate void where only sensation exists.
Rerir's claws between your thighs begin a slow, deliberate rhythm, each stroke designed to unravel you. They piston in and out of you, the very force felt like he was trying to fist you.
Your hips buck against his hand, seeking more, and he chuckles against your throat. "Greedy," he murmurs, the word a vibration that travels through your entire body, "but I like that."
His other hand slides up to cup your breast, thumb brushing against your nipple until it pebbles into a tight bead.
The dual sensations send sparks through you, and the amber light of your body flares brightly, casting sharp shadows that dance like willing accomplices to your debasement.
Rerir shifts slightly, and you feel the hard length of him pressing against your hip through the fabric of his pants. Your body responds with a fresh wave of desire that makes you dizzy.
He notices immediately, of course—he notices everything.
"Ah," he breathes, his lips curving into a smile against your skin, "there's that fire I sensed in you."
His fingers increase their pace, sliding deeper, curling inside you in a way that makes you cry out.
The darkness itself seems to ripple with your pleasure, as if feeding on it, growing stronger with every shudder that runs through your body.
With a sudden movement that leaves you breathless, Rerir pulls his claws out and effortlessly lifts you, your legs wrapping around his waist instinctively.
The position presses you against him more intimately, and you can feel every ridge and plane of his body through the thin fabric separating you.
He holds you there for a moment, suspended in darkness, your only points of contact the places where your bodies touch.
Through your hazed mind, you didn't notice when he even unclothed a part of himself.
Or maybe you did and didn't want to acknowledge it.
His grip tightens painfully before he surges upward, ripping at the closure of his trousers. In the same motion, he drags you down onto him.
The sudden, full impalement makes you scream.
There is no slow adjustment, no gentle acclimatization—only the brutal, absolute claim of him sheathing himself to the hilt in one decisive thrust.
Your head falls back with a choked sound, the amber glow around you dimming for a second before it returns, brighter and more fractured than before.
He doesn't give you a moment to recover.
His hands clamp onto your hips, holding you in place as he begins to move, driving into you with deep, punishing strokes that slam against your cervix.
The darkness ripples with the violence of his movements, the very air thickening, pressing in on you as the void itself aids his domination.
Each withdrawal leaves you feeling hollow, each return fills you so completely it borders on pain.
The sensation of being filled, of being completely claimed by him in this darkness, makes your head fall back with a moan.
The amber glow around you intensifies until it's nearly blinding, bathing both of you in its golden light.
His rhythm is merciless, a brutal cadence that your body is helpless but to answer.
Your fingers scrabble at his shoulders, seeking purchase against the relentless onslaught. Your fragmented light flickers erratically with each punishing thrust.
"Still fighting?" he grunts, not with admiration, but with a dark possessiveness.
A large hand leaves your hip, tangling violently in your hair at the nape of your neck. He wrenches your head back, forcing your spine into an agonizing arch.
The new angle drives him impossibly deeper, and a raw, broken cry is torn from your throat.
"Look at me," he commands, and you force your eyes open. In the strobing chaos of your own light, you see his face.
The hand in your hair holds you tightly, a painful anchor as he pistons into you.
Then he lowers his head, and you feel the sharp, searing pain of teeth sinking into the delicate skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
It's not a love bite, it's a claiming.
You cry out, the sound half-pain, half-surrender as your body clenches around him involuntarily.
He doesn't release you, simply growls against your marked flesh, the vibration a counterpoint to the brutal drilling rhythm of his hips.
The coppery tang of your own blood reaches your senses, mingling with the oppressive cold of the Abyss and the fevered heat of your bodies.
Your light responds, pulsing in deep, crimson-tinged waves that cast him in a hellish glow.
Rerir's other hand, still gripping your hip, slides down, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your ass cheek before pulling it roughly aside to change the angle of entry once more.
The shift makes you see stars, a burst of white-hot pain-pleasure that floods your senses.
He uses the new leverage to drive into you with even greater force, the slap of flesh against flesh echoing obscenely in the suffocating dark.
"Mine," he snarls against your bleeding shoulder, the word a final, possessive stamp, his hips jackhammering into you.
Your mind whites out, the capacity for thought utterly destroyed by the overwhelming sensations flooding your system.
There is only the pain, the pleasure, the darkness, and him.
The violent rhythm pushes you past the brink of pleasure into a realm of pure sensation, where pain and bliss are indistinguishable.
White spots erupt behind your eyelids, multiplying until they consume your entire field of vision.
Your body convulses, clamping around him with impossible force as your climax rips through you.
A scream tears from your throat—silent in the overwhelming sensory onslaught—but your body's response is anything but quiet.
The amber light that has been pulsing from your skin suddenly explodes outward, no longer a gentle glow but a blinding torrent of energy that floods the darkness.
Rerir roars, a sound of triumph and agony mingled, as the brilliant light pours into him. You feel the draining sensation as your power—the force you never even knew you possessed—flows from your body into his.
The transfer is excruciating, leaving you hollowed out, trembling in his arms as your strength fails.
"You don't need it," he growls against your ear, his voice thick with the infusion of your energy.
"I'll protect you," but even as he speaks the words, something else happens—his own power, dark and ancient, surges into the void you've left behind, filling you with a cold, alien presence that feels both violating and strangely complete.
Your back arches violently as searing pain erupts between your shoulder blades.
The sigil that forms there burns like a brand, its intricate pattern etching itself into your flesh, into your very soul.
The symbol flares with dark light, creating a visible connection between you and Rerir—a tether of shadow and energy that binds you together.
You feel it stretch taut, an unbreakable leash that will forever keep you within his reach.
Your light, once brilliant and warm, dwindles to a mere flicker before extinguishing completely.
The last thing you feel before consciousness slips away is the fact that you'll probably never be able to escape now.
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Summary: When petty jealousy threatens to sour the quiet sanctity of their secret marriage, Mondstadt’s unyielding master of Dawn Winery burns away the rumors with an unforgettable public declaration of his devotion.
Word Count: 8.5k (whoops)
Warnings + Tags: Fluff | Established Marriage | Fluff | Comfort | Softness | Heavy Jealousy (from Donna) | Rumors | Protective Diluc | Protective Brother-in-Law Kaeya | PDA | Sweet Revenge | Public Confession | Public Marriage | Kaeya being a menace as always
The morning sun over Mondstadt always seemed to catch the crest of Starfell Valley first, pouring like liquid amber over the cider-scented orchards of the Dawn Winery.
It was a quiet sort of beauty, the kind that didn’t demand an audience but simply existed, grounding and immense.
Inside the manor, the atmosphere was much the same.
You sat at the long, polished oak table in the dining room, the crest of the Ragnvindr clan catching the early light from the high arched windows.
A cup of black tea steamed faintly beside your plate, the scent of bergamot mingling with the rich, earthy aroma of the breakfast Elzer had just laid out.
From the doorway, the soft, rhythmic click of leather boots signaled his approach.
You didn’t need to look up to know the precise cadence of Diluc’s step.
It was a march born of years of discipline, yet whenever he entered a room where you sat, that rigid pace invariably softened, rounding at the edges until it was nothing more than a gentle glide.
Diluc paused behind your chair, his gloved hand coming to rest lightly on the carved wooden back. With his other hand, he reached down, his long, pale fingers gently tucking a stray lock of your hair behind your ear.
His touch was warm, always so incredibly warm, a silent testament to the Pyro Vision that rested against his coat but it was also remarkably tender.
To the rest of Teyvat, Diluc Ragnvindr was a man of iron and ash, a silent protector who wore a permanent scowl and carried the weight of Mondstadt’s sins on his broad shoulders.
But here, within the private sanctuary of the winery, surrounded by the staff who had known him since childhood, he was simply yours.
"Did you sleep well?" his voice was a low, gravelly rumble, rich and soothing in the quiet of the morning.
"I did," you replied, tilting your head back to look up at him.
A small, soft smile graced your lips as you reached up to cup his cheek.
His skin was rough from years of handling claymores and reins, but he melted into your palm, his eyelids fluttering shut for a brief, sacred second.
"Though the bed felt a bit empty after dawn."
Diluc leaned down, pressing a lingering, warm kiss to your forehead. "I had paperwork to review with Elzer regarding the summer vintage. I didn’t wish to wake you."
Across the room, Adeline stood by the sideboard, a silver teapot in hand.
A knowing, deeply affectionate smile softened her features as she watched the two of you.
She had seen Diluc through his darkest, most turbulent years, the years of grief, of self-imposed exile, of bitter isolation.
To see him now, anchored so completely by your presence, his sharp edges thoroughly blunted by the sheer depth of his love for you, brought a quiet joy to her heart.
"Master Diluc, the carriage is being prepared for your trip into the city," Adeline murmured, her tone respectful yet warm. "And forgive me, Lady Ragnvindr, your dynamic with the Knights’ logistics team is scheduled for early afternoon, is it not?"
You laughed softly, shaking your head. "Adeline, please. Just my name is fine. And yes, Jean asked if I could assist with the inventory of the elemental reserves. With the Stormterror aftermath still causing minor anomalies, she wants an extra Vision holder on site."
Diluc’s eyes flicked down to your hip, where your own Vision rested, glinting softly in the morning light.
A subtle, protective tighten crossed his jaw, though it vanished as quickly as it came.
He trusted your strength implicitly. You were a formidable fighter in your own right, an equal partner who could stand back-to-back with him in the dead of night against an abyss pack without flinching.
His protectiveness wasn't a doubt of your capabilities; it was simply the natural law of his universe.
He loved you, and therefore, the world was a threat to be managed.
"I will be at the tavern by nightfall," Diluc said, his hand sliding down to your shoulder, giving it a firm, reassuring squeeze. "If your duties wrap up early, come find me at the Angel’s Share. We can ride back together."
"It's a date," you teased softly.
He didn't smirk, but the corners of his eyes crinkled a rare expression that only you ever truly witnessed.
To the world outside these stone walls, you were a dedicated ally of the winery, a capable Vision user, and a dear, trusted friend of Diluc Ragnvindr.
When the two of you had married a year ago, it had been a quiet affair, held in the estate’s private chapel with only Adeline, Elzer, and a profoundly smug Kaeya in attendance.
It wasn't that you were hiding your love; it was simply that neither you nor Diluc felt the need to perform your marriage for the court of public opinion.
You didn't hold hands in the streets of Mondstadt; you didn't exchange sweet nothings over the counter at the Good Hunter.
You walked side by side, equals, autonomous and private.
If anyone asked, neither of you lied. But Mondstadt was a city of gossip, and when people didn't see grand gestures, dramatic declarations, or a woman dangling off the winery master's arm, they assumed what they pleased.
To the average citizen, you were just an exceptionally close confidante. A brilliant friend.
And that suited you both perfectly. But privacy, you would soon remember, often left room for the imaginative malice of those who envied what they could not understand.
The afternoon air in Mondstadt was crisp, carrying the scent of dandelions and fresh bread from Sarah’s ovens.
You walked down the stone steps from the Knights of Favonius headquarters, stretching your shoulders after hours of cataloging elemental crystals with Lisa.
Your Vision hummed with a faint, resonant energy, responding to the ambient elemental flow of the city.
As you made your way past the flower shop, intending to head toward the plaza, a sharp, carrying voice cut through the midday bustle.
"Oh, look who it is. I swear, some people simply don't know when they are overstaying their welcome."
You paused, turning your head slightly. Standing near the city gates, leaning against a crate of goods, was Donna.
Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her lips curled into a sneer that looked entirely out of place on her usually bright face.
A couple of other townspeople stood nearby, shifting uncomfortably under her intense, venomous gaze.
You blinked, genuinely caught off guard. "Good afternoon, Donna. Is something the matter?"
"Is something the matter?" Donna scoffed, taking a step toward you, her heels clicking sharply against the cobblestones. "You have a lot of nerve acting so innocent. Everyone in the city sees it, you know. The way you constantly hover around the Dawn Winery. The way you practically force yourself into Master Diluc’s schedule."
You stared at her, utterly bewildered. "I work closely with the winery on elemental defense and trade routes, Donna. It’s matters of business."
"Business! Is that what you call it when you follow him around like a stray dog?" Donna’s voice rose, deliberately drawing the attention of passing citizens.
A few merchants turned to look; a pair of Knights on patrol slowed their pace. "You think just because you have a Vision, you're somehow special? You’re just a commoner clinging to his coattails, desperately trying to climb the social ladder. It’s pathetic, really. Master Diluc is a nobleman of highest caliber. He’s far too polite and well-bred to tell you to your face that you're an annoying nuisance, but it’s obvious to everyone else."
A low, collective murmur passed through the small crowd that had gathered.
Some looked sympathetic toward you, while others, fueled by the natural human appetite for scandal, began to whisper among themselves.
Is she really clinging to him? Well, they do spend an awful lot of time together... and Master Diluc never did seem the type to tolerate idle company.
You felt a prickle of annoyance, but you kept your composure.
You didn't need to defend your honor to Donna; the ring tucked safely on a silver chain beneath your shirt pressed warmly against your collarbone, a solid, unshakeable truth.
"Donna," you said, your voice calm, steady, and entirely devoid of the anger she was trying to provoke. "I assure you, Master Diluc is entirely capable of expressing his discomfort if he had any. My presence at the winery is welcomed."
"Welcomed? Keep telling yourself that!" Donna spat, her eyes flashing with a desperate, bitter jealousy.
For months, she had watched you slip in and out of the winery gates, had seen you walking beside the man of her dreams.
She had convinced herself that you were an opportunist, a parasite exploiting Diluc's solitary nature. "You're just a parasite. A desperate, clinging little girl who thinks a shiny glass orb on her hip makes her worthy of a Ragnvindr. You don't belong near him. You're nothing to him."
Before you could even open your mouth to reply, a long, dark shadow fell over the cobblestones between you and Donna.
"My, my. What an incredibly loud performance for such a quiet afternoon."
The smooth, theatrical drawl was instantly recognizable.
From around the corner of the alchemy station stepped Kaeya, his single eye gleaming with a dangerous, icy amusement.
His hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword, his posture relaxed, yet there was a distinct, predatory sharpness to the air the moment he arrived.
Donna paled slightly, stepping back. "Captain Kaeya! I-I was just... I was just pointing out the truth. She’s always bothering Master Diluc, and-"
"And since when did the logistics of the Ragnvindr estate become the civic duty of a floral assistant?" Kaeya interrupted, his smile never reaching his eye. He walked over, deliberately stepping into your space, his arm coming around your shoulders in a loose, protective, brotherly drape.
He looked down at you, his expression softening into genuine fondness. "Are you alright, little lady? Did the bad weather wash up some refuse?"
"I'm fine, Kaeya," you sighed, though you appreciated the warmth of his presence.
Over the past year, Kaeya had firmly established himself as a fiercely protective, albeit incredibly teasing, older brother figure to you.
He might have a fractured relationship with Diluc, but when it came to you, Kaeya was fiercely, uncompromisingly loyal.
Kaeya turned his gaze back to Donna, the temperature in the immediate vicinity seeming to drop by several degrees.
"Let’s clear something up, shall we? The lady you are so carelessly slandering happens to hold a position of utmost respect within the Knights' strategic network. Furthermore..." His grin widened, flashing a row of white teeth.
"If Master Diluc found her presence 'bothering,' he wouldn't be the one constantly ensuring her favorite tea is imported directly from Liyue just to keep her comfortable at his table. So, unless you want me to write up a formal report for public disturbance and harassment of a Knights' liaison... I suggest you take your flowers and your fascinating theories somewhere else."
Donna choked on her breath, her face flushing a deep, humiliated red.
She cast one last, hateful look at you before turning on her heel and storming off toward the flower shop, her hands trembling with rage.
The crowd dispersed quickly under Kaeya’s sharp, lingering gaze. Once the street was relatively clear, Kaeya dropped his arm from your shoulder, letting out a soft sigh as he looked down at you.
"You let people trample over you too much," he chided gently, though his voice held no real bite. "You could have flattened her with your Vision in three seconds flat."
"And cause a scene? Diluc hates scenes," you reasoned, smoothing down your coat. "Besides, her words don't change the truth. Let her think what she wants."
Kaeya shook his head, a complex emotion flitting across his face. "You and Diluc... I swear, the two of you are stubborn to a fault. This whole 'private romance' bit is all well and good, but it leaves the door wide open for fools like Donna to think they have a chance, or worse, to drag your name through the mud. Diluc would burn Mondstadt to the ground if he knew she spoke to you like that."
"Then let's not tell him," you said softly, looking up at him with pleading eyes. "He has enough on his plate with the Abyss Order activity near the Wolvendom borders. He doesn't need to waste his energy on town gossip."
Kaeya stared at you for a long moment, before letting out a defeated, amused chuckle. He reached out, rustling your hair affectionately. "You're too good for him, you know that? But fine. I won't say a word.
Just... be careful. Jealousy makes people do incredibly stupid things."
As it turned out, Kaeya’s warning was entirely prophetic.
A few days later, a grand celebration was held in Mondstadt.
The Knights of Favonius had successfully cleared out a massive hilichurl camp that had been blocking the main trade routes from Liyue, and the acting Grand Master had declared a night of festivity to boost morale.
The entire city was alive with light, laughter, and the heavy scent of Barbatos’s favored brew.
The Angel’s Share was packed to the brim.
Every table was occupied, the wooden rafter echoing with the loud choruses of bards and the clinking of heavy beer mugs.
Diluc stood behind the bar, his expression as impassive as ever as he poured drinks with practiced, flawless efficiency.
He wore his usual high-collared vest, his fiery red hair tied back in a neat ponytail.
Despite the chaos of the crowded tavern, his eyes continuously tracked a single point in the room: you.
You were sitting at a table near the corner, laughing softly as Venti spun a ridiculous, entirely fabricated yarn about a dragon and a giant dandelion.
Beside you, Kaeya was nursing a glass of Death After Noon, his eyes occasionally scanning the room with quiet vigilance.
"Master Diluc!"
Diluc’s gaze snapped back to the bar counter.
Standing there, leaning heavily against the polished wood, was Donna. She had clearly had a bit to drink, her cheeks flushed and her eyes glassy, though fixed on him with an intense, desperate focus.
"A glass of your finest white wine, please," she purred, trying to pitch her voice lower, trying to emulate the sophisticated ladies she read about in novels.
Diluc didn't utter a word.
He simply reached for a clean glass, poured the requested wine, and slid it across the counter to her, already turning away to wipe down a tap.
"Master Diluc, wait," Donna called out, her hand reaching out across the wood, nearly catching the sleeve of his coat.
Diluc subtly stepped back, entirely out of her reach, his eyes narrowing into a cold, flat stare.
Undeterred by his icy demeanor, Donna leaned in closer, her voice carrying over the din of the tavern to the surrounding patrons. "I... I just wanted to say how much everyone appreciates you hosting these events. You are always so hardworking, so noble.
It must be so exhausting... especially with certain people constantly draining your time and resources."
Diluc’s hand paused on the towel. "What are you referring to?"
Donna took his response as an invitation, her eyes lighting up with a cruel, triumphant gleam.
She glanced pointedly over her shoulder toward your table. "Oh, you know. There are rumors all over the city about how some people take advantage of your generosity. Always hanging around the winery, acting like they belong there, using their Vision as an excuse to get close to your wealth and status. It’s disgusting, really. Someone like you deserves a woman who truly understands high society, someone who values you for you, not just your name."
The immediate area around the bar went dead silent.
Six-Fingered José stopped strumming his lyre a few paces away.
Several patrons lowered their mugs, sensing the sudden, suffocating drop in atmospheric pressure.
Diluc did not blink.
His crimson eyes fixed onto Donna with a terrifying, absolute stillness.
The heat radiating off him became palpable, a heavy, oppressive warmth that made Donna’s breath hitch in her throat.
"Is that so?" Diluc’s voice was dangerously quiet, a low hiss of embers before a wildfire.
"Y-yes!" Donna stammered, emboldened by her own delusion. "Everyone thinks so! She’s just a clinging, desperate nobody who’s dragging down your reputation. You should just ban her from the estate, Master Diluc. You don't need that kind of dead weight—"
"Donna."
The name slipped from his lips like a sentence from a judge.
Diluc slowly placed the towel down on the counter.
He didn't raise his voice, but the sheer command in his tone cut through the entire tavern, silencing even the rowdy tables in the back.
"You are speaking of my wife."
The words dropped like a claymore splitting a boulder.
Donna froze, her eyes widening to the size of saucers. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. "W... W-wife...?"
Across the room, you raised your eyebrows, a quiet sigh escaping your lips.
You had hoped to avoid a scene, but looking at the absolute fury vibrating beneath Diluc’s calm exterior, you knew there was no stopping him now.
Kaeya, on the other hand, let out a loud, delighted bark of laughter, leaning back in his chair with a thoroughly entertained grin.
Diluc walked out from behind the bar counter.
He didn't spare Donna another glance as he crossed the floor of the tavern.
Every single eye in the establishment followed him as he made his way directly to your corner table.
As he approached, you stood up, a soft, apologetic smile on your face. "Diluc, you didn't have to-"
Before you could finish your sentence, Diluc reached out. His large, warm hand cupped the back of your neck, his fingers tangling into your hair with an intense, possessive gentleness.
He pulled you to him, and without a single shred of hesitation, he leaned down and pressed his lips firmly against yours.
It wasn't a chaste, polite kiss.
It was deep, breath-stealing, and heavy with a profound, unyielding adoration. It was the kiss of a man who was utterly consumed by the woman in his arms, a declaration made in the language of fire and absolute devotion.
Your Vision pulsed in tandem with his, a warm, harmonious light flaring briefly between you.
The tavern erupted.
Cheered, gasps, and the slamming of mugs against wood shook the rafters. Venti clapped his hands with glee, while Patton near the door looked like he might faint from sheer shock.
When Diluc finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours for a brief second.
His breathing was slightly shallow, his eyes dark with an emotion so raw it made your heart skip a beat.
He looked down at you, his thumb gently wiping a trace of moisture from your lower lip.
"I am tired of listening to fools speak your name with anything less than the reverence you deserve," he whispered, his voice for your ears alone.
He then turned his head, his sharp, lethal gaze locking onto Donna, who looked as though she wished the floorboards would open up and swallow her whole.
"Let me make this entirely clear to everyone present," Diluc announced, his voice ringing with absolute authority through the Angel’s Share.
"The lady standing beside me is the mistress of the Dawn Winery. She holds my heart, my trust, and my name. Any insult directed toward her is a direct declaration of hostility against the Ragnvindr house. If I hear a single whisper of slander against my wife again... you will find yourselves permanently barred not only from this establishment, but from every trade route, estate, and asset I control in Mondstadt. Am I understood?"
Donna looked as if she might burst into tears.
She gave a frantic, terrified nod before grabbing her bag and sprinting out of the tavern doors, the laughter of the patrons following her into the night.
Diluc let out a soft breath, the tension leaving his shoulders as he looked back down at you.
His expression immediately melted back into that soft, gentle gaze that was reserved entirely for you. "Are you alright?"
"I'm more than alright," you smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest. "Though I thought we agreed no public displays of affection?"
"Exceptions can be made," he murmured, wrapping his arms securely around you, holding you close against his chest, entirely ignoring the catcalls and cheers of the tavern around him.
From the table, Kaeya cleared his throat loudly, a massive, mischievous grin stretching across his face. He stood up, swirling his drink before tossing it back.
"Well, well. Quite a performance, Master Diluc," Kaeya teased, walking over to the two of you. He clapped a hand heavily onto Diluc’s shoulder, a gesture that made Diluc’s eyes narrow, though he didn't pull away. Kaeya looked at you, his single eye glittering with a brilliant, sudden idea.
"You know... since the town is clearly so confused about your martial status, I think there’s only one logical solution to put this entire matter to rest permanently."
Diluc glared at him. "And what would that be, Kaeya?"
Kaeya smirked, leaning in. "A proper, grand wedding. Right in the middle of the city, at the Cathedral of Favonius. A full mass, the entire town invited, the grandest decorations the winery can buy."
He winked at you.
"And most importantly... we ensure Donna is given a front-row seat to watch you slide the ring onto her finger all over again. What do you say, sister-in-law? Want to give Mondstadt something real to gossip about?"
You looked up at Diluc, who was already looking down at you, awaiting your verdict.
The thought of a grand wedding was usually against his private nature, but seeing the soft, unspoken warmth in his eyes, you knew that if it made you happy, he would rent out the entire city for a week.
"I think," you said, a beautiful, radiant smile breaking across your face, "that sounds like a wonderful idea."
The morning following the announcement at the Angel’s Share did not arrive with the usual quiet dignity of the Dawn Winery.
Instead, it arrived with the sound of Kaeya Alberich’s boots clicking across the polished flagstones of the manor’s entrance hall at an hour that Diluc considered borderline criminal.
Inside the study, the air was thick with the scent of old paper, sealing wax, and the rich aroma of dark-roasted coffee.
Diluc sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his crimson hair tied back loosely with a black ribbon, a pair of reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.
You sat on the chaise lounge across from him, a ledger of elemental inventory resting on your lap, though your attention had long since drifted to the way the morning light caught the sharp lines of your husband’s jaw.
The door flew open without a knock.
"Good morning, newlyweds or should I say, the soon-to-be publicly newlyweds?" Kaeya breezed into the room, his fur-lined cape swirling behind him like a dark blue cloud.
He held a thick stack of parchment in one hand and a half-eaten red apple in the other.
Diluc did not look up from his ledger, though his brow twitched with an immediate, practiced irritation.
"Kaeya. It is barely eight in the morning. Do the Knights no longer require their Cavalry Captain to pretend he has duties?"
"Oh, Jean has given me a temporary leave of absence for a matter of grave diplomatic and cultural importance," Kaeya said smoothly, dropping the stack of parchment directly onto Diluc’s immaculate desk, right over the trade reports from Liyue.
Diluc finally raised his eyes, his gaze flat and lethal. "And what matter might that be?"
"Your wedding, of course," Kaeya smiled, his single eye glinting with pure, unadulterated mischief.
He turned to you, his expression softening into that warm, brotherly fondness that had become so familiar over the past year. "Good morning, little lady. I trust my dear brother didn't keep you up all night discussing wine fermentation statistics?"
You laughed softly, closing your ledger and setting it aside. "Good morning, Kaeya. And no, we actually managed to sleep. Though I see you’ve been busy."
"Busy? I haven't slept a wink!" Kaeya declared dramatically, pulling up a high-backed chair and spinning it around so he could rest his arms across the backrest.
"Do you have any idea how much coordination it takes to plan a grand ceremony at the Cathedral of Favonius on less than a month's notice? Jean is already organizing the honorary guard. Lisa is curating the evening's musical repertoire though she threatened to electrocute me if I suggested any sea shanties and Amber has volunteered to handle the decorations for the plaza."
Diluc slowly took off his reading glasses, placing them precisely on the desk. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest.
"We agreed to a ceremony, Kaeya. We did not agree to turn the city into a carnival. A quiet, dignified service at the Cathedral is more than enough to satisfy whatever... point you are trying to make."
"Oh, this isn't just about making a point, Master Diluc," Kaeya purred, his smile widening into something genuinely wicked.
"This is about community morale. And, more importantly, it is about civic education. The good people of Mondstadt need to learn the consequences of gossiping about the winery’s Lady."
Kaeya reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a separate piece of parchment, tapping it against his chin.
"In fact, I’ve already taken the liberty of handling the floral arrangements. I thought to myself, 'Kaeya, who in Mondstadt is most qualified to provide the highest volume of Cecilias and Windwheel Asters for the Ragnvindr estate?' And then it hit me."
A sudden, terrible suspicion flashed across Diluc’s face.
"Kaeya. What did you do?"
Kaeya’s grin was blinding.
"I placed a massive, non-refundable, incredibly lucrative order with Flora’s shop. Specifically, I requested that the order be processed, curated, and hand-delivered directly to the Cathedral by her senior assistant."
The room went dead silent for three seconds.
You blinked, a slow, disbelieving smile breaking across your face as the pieces clicked together.
"Donna."
"Precisely!" Kaeya snapped his fingers, looking thoroughly pleased with his own genius.
"I ordered five thousand Cecilias, three thousand Windwheel Asters, and a dozen arrangements of silk flowers imported from Liyue. And I made sure to specify in the contract that the delivery must be supervised at all hours by Mondstadt's most dedicated floral enthusiast. She will be spending the next three weeks surrounded by the very flowers that will adorn your bridal aisle. She will practically smell your happiness every time she breathes."
Diluc let out a long, heavy sigh, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his glasses had just been.
"You are a child. A petty, vindictive child."
"I am a protective older brother," Kaeya corrected, his tone shifting for a brief second into something entirely sincere as he looked at you.
"And I don't tolerate people throwing dirt on my family. Besides, think of the economic boost for the flower shop! It’s an act of pure charity."
"It's psychological warfare," you corrected gently, though you couldn't deny the small, wicked spark of satisfaction it gave you.
Donna had spent weeks trying to poison your reputation; letting her carry the flowers for your wedding felt like a poetic, if slightly chaotic, form of justice.
"Exactly. The best kind of warfare," Kaeya chuckled, standing up and dusting off his trousers.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go check on the wine selection with Elzer. I told him we need at least fifty barrels of the 1984 vintage, and he looked like he was going to have a stroke."
"Kaeya, do not touch my cellar," Diluc growled, his voice dropping an octave.
"Too late! See you at lunch!" Kaeya waved a hand over his shoulder as he sauntered out of the study, his laughter echoing down the hallway.
Once the door closed, the heavy silence returned to the study, but the tension had evaporated, replaced by a warm, lingering amusement.
Diluc turned his head to look at you, his crimson eyes softening as the rigid persona of the Darknight Hero melted away entirely.
He stood up from his desk, walking across the room with that silent, graceful stride of his.
He stopped before the chaise lounge, reaching down to take your hands in his.
His palms were large, covering yours completely, the ambient Pyro energy within him making his skin feel like a hearth on a winter night.
He pulled you up to stand, wrapping his arms around your waist and drawing you flush against his chest.
"If this is too much," Diluc murmured, his face burying into the crook of your neck, his breath warm against your skin, "we can stop it. I don't care about the city's rumors. I only care about your peace."
You wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers tangling into the soft, thick waves of his red hair.
"Diluc, it's fine. Honestly. It’s a little chaotic, but... seeing everyone want to help, seeing Kaeya get so worked up to protect us... it makes me realize how much love we actually have around us. And besides..."
You pulled back slightly to look into his eyes, a playful glint in your own. "I wouldn't mind seeing you in a proper tailored suit at the altar."
Diluc’s chest rumbled with a rare, low chuckle.
He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a slow, deep kiss that tasted faintly of coffee and sweet morning air. "If it pleases my wife, I will wear whatever she desires."
Over the next two weeks, Mondstadt was transformed into a whirlwind of wedding preparation.
Because you and Diluc were already technically married, the typical stress of a wedding was absent; there was no anxiety about vows or legalities.
Instead, it became a massive, community-driven festival, with every major figure in the city finding a way to involve themselves.
At the Knights of Favonius headquarters, Jean had practically turned her office into a war room specifically for the logistics of the ceremony.
"The honorary guard will line the steps of the Cathedral," Jean explained, tapping a quill against a map of the city plaza.
You were sitting across from her, while Lisa lounged on the sofa nearby, sipping tea.
"We will have four squads of Knights in full ceremonial armor. No weapons drawn, of course, but it will ensure the crowd remains orderly. Master Diluc’s standing in Mondstadt demands a certain level of security, and given your status as a vital liaison, the Knights are proud to sponsor the guard."
"Jean, you really don't have to go to such trouble," you said, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the scale of it all. "A simple walk up the steps is fine."
"Nonsense, darling," Lisa chimed in, setting her teacup down with a elegant clink. "Mondstadt hasn't had a proper noble wedding since Diluc's father was a young man. The people need something beautiful to look at. And besides, Jean needs an excuse to think about something other than paperwork. Look at her, she’s practically glowing with tactical wedding enthusiasm."
Jean flushed slightly, coughing into her hand. "I am merely ensuring that the event goes smoothly. Furthermore, Klee has requested to be the flower girl. I have... strictly forbidden her from using any 'special' flowers, and Albedo has promised to supervise her to ensure no explosives are disguised as bouquets."
You laughed, the vision of Klee accidentally blowing up the Cathedral altar with a companion sphere of dandelions both terrifying and hilarious. "Thank Barbatos for Albedo."
Meanwhile, down in the city plaza, the real drama was unfolding at the floral shop.
Kaeya had made it a personal habit to check on the progress of the floral orders at least twice a day.
He didn't just check the inventory; he brought a chair, sat near the fountain, and watched with a look of supreme satisfaction as Donna worked.
Donna was utterly miserable.
Her fingers were raw from trimming the thorny stems of the silk flowers, and her eyes were permanently red from a combination of pollen and bitter, furious tears.
Every single flower she touched was a reminder of the woman she hated, the woman who had turned out to be the legal, fiercely adored wife of the most eligible man in Mondstadt.
"Careful with those Windwheel Asters, Donna," Kaeya called out from his chair, swirling a glass of sparkling cider he had brought from the tavern.
"We need them to be perfectly symmetrical. My sister-in-law has a very keen eye for detail, you know. If a single petal is wilted, I’ll have to report it to Master Diluc, and we both know how particular he is about quality."
Donna bit her lower lip so hard it nearly bled.
She kept her head down, her hands trembling as she tied a silk ribbon around a massive bouquet of Cecilias. "Yes, Captain Kaeya. I am being very careful."
"Excellent!" Kaeya beamed, taking a slow sip of his drink.
"Oh, and make sure the delivery to the Cathedral on Friday morning is prompt. Master Diluc requested that the altar be completely covered in white lilies. He told me just yesterday while looking at his wife with the most sickeningly sweet expression I've ever seen on his face, mind you that she reminds him of a fresh lily after a spring rain. Truly, the man is a closet romantic. Who knew?"
A sharp snip echoed through the plaza as Donna accidentally cut the head completely off a pristine white rose.
"Oops," Kaeya murmured, his eye flashing with cruel amusement.
"That’s coming out of your commission, dear."
Donna looked up, her eyes wide with a mix of terror, humiliation, and deep-seated jealousy. "Captain Kaeya... why are you doing this to me? I... I only said what everyone else was thinking! How was I supposed to know they were... they were..."
"Married?" Kaeya’s voice lost its playful edge, dropping into a cold, sharp tone that made Donna flinch.
He leaned forward, his single visible eye locking onto her like a dagger.
"Because, Donna, a sensible person minds their own business. You let your jealousy cloud your judgment, and you tried to publicly humiliate a woman who is worth ten of you. Consider this a lesson in humility. You’re lucky it’s me sitting here teasing you, and not my brother. If Diluc had his way entirely, you wouldn't even be allowed within the city walls right now."
Donna swallowed hard, her throat tight with unshed tears. She looked down at the ruined rose in her hand, the reality of her situation sinking in. She had lost any chance she ever thought she had, and now she was forced to build the stage for her rival's ultimate triumph.
The night before the ceremony, the Dawn Winery was filled with a warm, bustling energy.
The entire staff: Adeline, Elzer, the maids, and the stable hands had gathered in the main hall to finalize the preparations for the reception, which was to be held on the estate grounds.
You stood in the center of the hall, wearing the beautiful, flowing white gown that Margaret and the city’s finest tailors had spent the last two weeks perfecting.
It was elegant, with delicate lace along the sleeves and a high neckline that managed to look both classic and modern.
Your Vision was subtly integrated into the sash at your waist, glowing with a soft, comforting light.
"Oh, look at you," Adeline whispered, her eyes misty with tears as she adjusted the long, sheer veil that trailed behind you. "You look absolutely breathtaking, my lady. Master Diluc won't know what to do with himself."
"He'll probably just scowl to hide how nervous he is," you joked softly, though your own heart was fluttering with a sweet, nervous anticipation.
"He doesn't scowl when he looks at you," Elzer remarked, entering the hall with a tray of polished silver chalices.
"In all my years serving the Ragnvindr family, I have never seen Master Diluc as at peace as he is when you are in the room. This ceremony... it is a good thing. The people of Mondstadt need to see that the Dawn Winery has a mistress who is strong, graceful, and deeply loved."
Just then, the heavy front doors of the manor opened, and Diluc stepped inside.
He had just returned from a final sweep of the perimeter with the Dawn Winery guards, ensuring no Abyss Order elements would disrupt the following day.
He stopped dead in his tracks the moment his eyes fell upon you.
The entire room went quiet.
The maids stepped back, smiling secretly among themselves.
Diluc stood perfectly still, his breath catching audibly in his throat. His crimson eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in the elegant curve of the dress, the soft glow of your Vision, and the radiant, loving smile on your face.
For a man who never lost his composure, Diluc looked completely undone.
He slowly walked forward, his boots making no sound against the thick rugs. He stopped just inches away from you, his hands rising as if to touch you, but pausing, afraid to disturb the pristine perfection of the lace.
"You..." Diluc’s voice was barely a whisper, thick with an emotion so deep it felt heavy in the air. "You are beautiful."
"Do you like it?" you asked softly, reaching out to take his hands, pulling them to your waist.
Diluc didn't answer with words.
Instead, he leaned down, his lips finding yours with an intense, quiet reverence.
The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, as if he were trying to commit the exact feeling of this moment to memory forever.
His hands slid around your back, pulling you close against him, completely unbothered by the fact that his entire staff was watching.
Adeline let out a soft, emotional sniffle, while the younger maids giggled into their aprons.
"I love you," Diluc murmured against your lips, his forehead resting against yours. "More than my own life. Tomorrow, the whole world will know it."
"They already know it, Diluc," you whispered back, squeezing his hands. "But tomorrow, we make it official."
The morning of the wedding arrived with a sky so clear and blue it looked as though the Anemo Archon himself had personally swept the clouds away.
The bells of the Cathedral of Favonius began to ring at noon, their deep, resonant chimes echoing across the rooftops of Mondstadt, signaling the start of the grandest celebration the city had seen in a generation.
The plaza outside the Cathedral was packed to absolute capacity. Citizens from every walk of life: merchants, Knights, adventurers, and farmers from Springvale had gathered along the grand stone steps.
The atmosphere was electric, filled with the sounds of laughter, the chatter of excited children, and the beautiful music of bards playing traditional Mondstadt love ballads.
Standing near the base of the steps, holding a massive basket of flower petals, was Donna.
She wore her finest dress, but her face was a mask of pale, frozen misery.
True to Kaeya’s word, she had been given a designated position right at the front of the spectator line, forced to watch every single guest arrive.
Her hands were trembling so violently that a few dandelion seeds slipped from her basket, scattering into the wind.
"Oh, look! The Knights’ leadership is arriving!" a merchant nearby shouted.
Jean walked up the steps in her full ceremonial uniform, her blond hair styled elegantly.
Beside her was Lisa, wearing a stunning purple gown that turned heads with every step.
Then came Barbara, leading the Cathedral choir, her face bright with a pure, angelic joy.
And then, the carriage from the Dawn Winery arrived.
The crowd went completely silent as the door opened. Diluc stepped out first.
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
Diluc Ragnvindr, who spent his entire life in dark coats and practical combat gear, was dressed in a pristine, tailored black tailcoat with gold embroidery along the lapels.
His fiery red hair was tied back in a flawless braid, and a single, perfect white Cecilia was pinned to his breast. He looked every bit the high-born nobleman he was born to be; regal, imposing, and breathtakingly handsome.
But what caught everyone’s attention was his expression.
There was no scowl.
There was no cold detachment.
His eyes were fixed entirely on the carriage door, a soft, incredibly tender look softening his sharp features.
Diluc reached his gloved hand back into the carriage, and then, you stepped out.
The silence of the plaza broke into a roar of cheers and applause that could be heard all the way to Whispering Woods.
You looked like an absolute goddess, the white silk of your gown shimmering in the Mondstadt sun, your Vision gleaming at your hip like a star.
Diluc took your hand, drawing it through his arm. He looked down at you, a proud, deeply affectionate smile touching his lips. "Ready?" he whispered.
"With you? Always," you replied.
As the two of you began your walk up the grand stone steps, Kaeya stepped into view near the Cathedral doors.
He was dressed in his formal captain’s uniform, his cape flowing dramatically.
As you and Diluc neared the front row where Donna stood, Kaeya deliberately caught your eye, casting a subtle, mischievous glance down at the floral assistant.
Diluc, noticing the movement, paused right in front of Donna.
Donna froze, her breath catching in her throat as the terrifying, magnificent master of the winery stood just two feet away from her.
She looked down at your joined hands, the gold wedding bands catching the light, an undeniable, permanent reality.
Diluc looked at Donna, his crimson eyes cold, but entirely indifferent.
He didn't need to speak an insult; his happiness, his devotion to you, and the sheer grandeur of the moment were a far greater defeat than any words could inflict.
"Thank you for the beautiful flowers, Donna," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine kindness and grace, entirely devoid of malice. "They make the day perfect."
Donna’s face flushed a deep, burning red. She lowered her head, her voice a tiny, broken whisper. "Y-you're welcome, Lady Ragnvindr. I wish you... a lifetime of happiness."
Kaeya, standing just a few paces away, let out a soft, satisfied hum, crossing his arms as he watched the final piece of his plan fall into place.
Diluc looked down at you, his eyes immediately melting back into that soft, private warmth that belonged to you alone.
He squeezed your hand, and together, you walked through the grand wooden doors of the Cathedral, leaving the gossip, the jealousy, and the whispers of Mondstadt far behind.
Inside, the altar was a sea of white lilies and glowing candles.
Barbara began to sing, her voice filling the high stone arches with a melody of pure peace.
The high stone doors of the Cathedral closed behind you, shutting out the roar of the Mondstadt crowd and leaving only the ethereal, echoing resonance of Barbara’s choir.
The ambient temperature inside the sanctuary felt instantly warmer, charged by the quiet intensity of Diluc’s presence and the harmonious hum of your twin Visions.
As you walked down the grand aisle, flanked by rows of white lilies that Donna had spent the last two weeks painstakingly preparing, Diluc’s arm beneath your hand felt as solid as stone.
Yet, the way his fingers loosely entwined with yours showed a profound, almost hesitant gentleness.
He was a man who handled a heavy claymore with lethal precision, but with you, he always moved as if a fraction too much pressure might break the most precious thing he owned.
At the altar stood Acting Grand Master Jean, her expression a mix of professional dignity and deep personal relief.
Beside her, Albedo stood with a watchful eye on Klee, who was bouncing on the balls of her feet, clutching a velvet basket filled with shimmering Anemo-infused dandelion seeds.
"We are gathered here today," Jean began, her voice rich and carrying through the vaulted ceiling, "not to initiate a bond, but to honor one that has already stood the test of time, trial, and secrecy. Diluc Ragnvindr and his lady have long been the silent pillars of Mondstadt. Today, we bring their devotion into the light of the Archon."
Diluc turned to face you, taking both of your hands in his.
The gold embroidery on his tailored coat caught the flickering candlelight, casting a warm glow up into his crimson eyes.
In this sacred space, the stern, unyielding master of the Dawn Winery vanished completely.
The gaze he leveled at you was so raw, so entirely soft, that it made your breath catch.
"I, Diluc Ragnvindr, take you once more, before the gods and the people of Mondstadt," he murmured, his voice a low, gravelly timbre that vibrated straight to your heart.
"I swore my life to you in secret, but today I gladly bind my name, my house, and my honor to yours for all to see. No rumor can shake what we have built, and no shadow will ever come between us."
You smiled, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you squeezed his warm, leather-gloved hands.
"And I take you, Diluc. With my life, my sword, and my Vision, I am yours. Yesterday, today, and for every tomorrow Mondstadt has left to give."
Kaeya, standing just a few paces back as Diluc's best man, let out a soft, theatrical sigh, wiping a completely imaginary tear from his eye.
"Beautiful. Truly, I might cry," he whispered loudly enough for Lisa to chuckle behind her hand.
"You may now seal the vow," Jean said, a genuine, warm smile breaking across her face.
Diluc didn't wait.
He stepped forward, his hands sliding up from your waist to cup your face with an immense, protective tenderness.
When his lips met yours, the Cathedral choir hit a breathtaking crescendo. It was a kiss of absolute victory; a silent, powerful declaration that the rumors, the jealousy, and the petty malice of the world outside had officially been incinerated by the hearth of his love.
Klee threw her hands in the air, sending a flurry of glowing dandelion seeds exploding into the air like miniature, harmless fireworks.
The crowd inside erupted into applause, led by a fiercely beaming Grand Master and a thoroughly satisfied Cavalry Captain.
The reception at the Dawn Winery later that evening was an affair that Mondstadt would talk about for decades.
The rolling hills of the estate were lit by hundreds of floating paper lanterns, casting a soft, golden glow over the grapevine trellises.
Tables groaned under the weight of Mondstadt's finest delicacies, and Elzer had indeed been forced to crack open the legendary 1984 vintage, much to the delight of the gathered Knights and citizens.
You stood on the stone veranda overlooking the festivities, a glass of sparkling apple cider in your hand.
The heavy lace of your bridal veil had been removed, leaving your hair to fall softly around your shoulders. Your Vision pulsed with a gentle, contented rhythm against your hip.
"A penny for your thoughts, Lady Ragnvindr?"
You turned to see Kaeya leaning against the stone balustrade, a glass of Death After Noon tilted lazily between his fingers.
The chaotic smirk he had worn all day was gone, replaced by a quiet, genuinely protective expression.
"I'm just thinking about how perfect everything turned out," you smiled, leaning back against the railing.
"Even with all your chaotic planning, Kaeya. Thank you. For everything."
"Oh, don't thank me," Kaeya chuckled, looking out over the crowd where Diluc was currently trapped in a conversation with Jean and Venti, though his eyes were still firmly locked onto you across the courtyard.
"I simply expedited the inevitable. You two deserved a day where you didn't have to hide in the shadows of that big old manor. Mondstadt needs to know who holds the reins around here."
He paused, his expression turning serious for a brief moment. "Donna was at the gate earlier, helping the catering staff. She looked like she wanted to melt into the dirt. I think she finally understands that some fires burn too hot to play with."
"I don't harbor any ill will toward her," you said softly, watching the lanterns drift into the night sky.
"Jealousy makes people blind. I just hope she finds her own peace."
"You're far too kind," Kaeya sighed, shaking his head with a fond smile. "But that's exactly why my stubborn brother needs you. Speak of the devil..."
Kaeya gave a polite nod as Diluc excused himself from the Grand Master and walked up the stone steps toward the veranda.
His posture relaxed the moment he stepped away from the crowd, his eyes entirely consumed by your image.
"I believe it's time for me to mingle elsewhere," Kaeya said smoothly, tapping his glass against yours.
"Don't keep her up too late, Master Diluc. She's had a long day of being adored by the public." With a sharp wink, the Cavalry Captain sauntered back down into the gardens, leaving the two of you alone in the quiet dark of the terrace.
Diluc closed the distance between you instantly.
He didn't say a word at first; he simply slid his arms around your waist from behind, pulling your back firmly against his chest. He buried his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your perfume and the faint, familiar trace of elemental energy that always lingered around you.
"Are you tired?" he whispered, his chest rumbling against your back.
"A little," you admitted, tilting your head back to rest against his shoulder.
Diluc looked out over the crowded courtyard, watching his staff laughing with the Knights, watching the city he protected in the dead of night celebrating the light of his life.
For the first time in years, the heavy burden on his shoulders felt completely weightless.
He leaned over, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your jawline, his Pyro warmth enveloping you completely in the cool night air. "From this day forward, the world knows exactly where I belong. Right here. With you."
