#rhine writes

[gold-rhine]

What the guard dogs are for

There are some things you never want to hear your secret years-long crush saying, such as “I’m getting married,” “I think we should stay friends” or “I’m the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity.” Wriothesley’s very bad, no good day of trying to unravel conspiracy theories, fumbling a tea party with Chief Justice and learning Teyvat’s ancient history and vishap lore from the leading expert lector.

Genre: angst and misinformation campaign

Characters: Neuvillette\Wriothesley, Enjou

Warnings: sfw in a sense that nothing even remotely sexy happens, but there is dissociation, ptsd episode, brief mention of self-harm, and Enjou doing same thing he does in canon, which is not quite gaslighting? Anyway, let me know if you feel any other warnings need to be added.

Chapters: 1 out of 2. Wordcount: ~8k

With his morning tea, Wriothesley riffled through the reports as usual. Nothing was marked urgent, so he started with the most boring part, - the official ones. The production numbers, coupon consumption statistics, everything is prepared for Neuvillette’s upcoming inspection, which was mostly a formality, but he would want it to go as smoothly as possible. 

Reports from the surface informants. Traveler stirring up a ruckus with the research institute… Well, about time, that pit couldn’t go on forever pretending that massive explosions are just a part of science routine. 

Next, creatures called “vishaps” appeared recently in Erinnyes Forest. These vishaps are apparently a lesser form of dragons, and connected to Liyue vishaps, also lizard-like creatures, though in Liyue they are aligned with geo, not hydro. Non-hostile to humans, aside from one accident. But in that one they fought back against the hunters sent by nobles to capture them as novelty pets. So the only regrettable part was that they didn’t get the nobles, only their lackeys. For shame. 

Next, there are gangs with new lingo going around, which generally was a good thing to pay attention to as they usually ended up in Meropide. Wriothesley frowned, reading the lingo translations, as he suddenly felt old. “Trendy Zaytun Peach” was something he’d got called for taking it up the ass a lot in his days, but now it’s a hip and cool nickname with the youngsters. 

Informal internal reports. Victims of beret society are rehabilitating fine, preparations for the wedding are underway. Good. Albert, a new guy from the shop, is sending him tea. Quite good tea at that. Obviously a bribe attempt, though he didn’t ask for anything as of yet, so it was basically free. Everything was fair in love and bribes as far as Wriothesley was concerned. You could throw everything at the feet of your beloved as to the feet of your targeted bureaucrat, and receive nothing and you would have no claim to complain. Now, the fact he wouldn’t take it into account when making decisions about their proposals, and sometimes would even consider it a negative, was a different matter altogether. 

He perked up reading the last report. There was a new conspiracy, whose agenda was not very clear, as they were more careful than the others, but the gist was something against Neuvillette, so Wriothesley was tracking it for some time. It was hard to get anything concrete though, as they were pretty good at keeping a low profile, but now apparently one of the members by the name of Jacque got into the Fortress on unrelated charges, and he was reportedly not the brightest shank on the block. 

Wriothesley made the arrangements. 

Half an hour later, he happened to stroll by when Jacque was being beaten up by three guys in the shadowy corner. 

“Hey, what’s going on here? Leave him alone!” he said, walking up to them.

“Oh yeah?”, said one of the bullies, turning to him. “Well, make me!”

They were paid double for the pretend fight. It might have been an overkill, usually Wriothesley would go for just scaring them off without combat. Especially because anyone who’s been in the Fortess for some time or had a head on their shoulders would understand that nobody would try to openly fight the Duke outside of the fight club arena. But Jacque was as fresh as they get, allegedly stupid, and it was Wriothesley’s first chance at any info in two whole months, so he decided to make it as impressive as possible.

He went as easy on the guys as he could, they theatrically threw the fight and retreated. 

“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, kneeling next to the guy in the corner and putting his hand on his shoulder for emphasis. 

“Yeah, yeah, I think I’m fine,” Jacque muttered, shaking his head. 

“Why did they attack you?”

“They don’t want me to spread the truth...” Jacque said with heavy emphasis. “But uh, thanks for helping me out.” 

“No need to thank me. I feel bad enough that honest folk like yourself get picked on in MY Fortress. That’s not how I want to run my place, so it’s only natural that I stand up for you.”

It took a moment, but finally the guy gasped.

“Your fortress? Are you… the Duke?”

At least he knew what “Duke” is.

“Yeah,” Wriothesley grinned, turning up the charm. “And allow me to get you a couple of drinks to compensate for the rude welcome you’ve received so far.”

He got them to the Coupon Cafeteria, where best meals were already arranged, and generously poured alcohol into the poor guy, listening to the story of his life and misfortunes that brought him to the Fortress, nodding empathetically. He didn’t ask about Neuvillette at all, to not spook the target, trusting that he will come to this anyway, and finally his patience was rewarded. 

“You know, you’re good!” the guy said drunkenly after some time, clasping his hand on Wriothesley's shoulder, which he beared stoically, grinning with all friendliness in the world. 

“You know, they say we can’t talk to you because you’re bought by that lizard, but I think you’re a good guy. You just don’t know all the facts!”

“Which are?”

The guy leaned closer to him and lowered his voice to a dramatic whisper. “Neuvillette is an evil dragon!”

Wriothesley choked on a laughter, which was way too obvious to turn into cough even for the dunce this stupid. 

“No, you don't understand! Dragons were enemies of humanity that Celestia conquered. But they come back when killed! They reincarnate! He is a hydro dragon who was reborn in a human form so he could more easily trick us!”

Wriothesley blinked, remembering Neuvillette standing under the rain, and the old children’s song. “Hydro dragon, Hydro dragon, don’t cry….”

“He put our rightful archon Furina on that trial, right? No one else saw the verdict, so he pretended she was declared guilty. He forced her to abdicate and took the power for himself!”

Wriothesley realized long ago that Neuvilette, of course, was not human. It was clear to any idiot who talked to him for longer than a minute in an informal setting, not to mention a lifespan of at least five hundred years. But there were a lot of options other than “evil dragon”. There were old gods who did not receive archonhood, but instead decided to serve the archon, like Liyue’s adepti, and he always assumed Neuvillette was of the same kind. But the idea that Iudex was some kind of evil monster with a grudge against humanity was ridiculous. Especially when he showed up at the Fortress and saved the entire Fountaine and Wriothesley’s own hide from the flood.

“Really?”

“Yeah! We should restore our true archon Furina to her rightful throne!”

Furina’s insurrection? Interesting. Wouldn’t peg her for someone capable of this type of conspiracy.

“And did Furina herself give us her blessing?”

“She can’t speak publicly, as this monster threatens her.”

Hmm, inconclusive on Furina’s involvement.

He spent more time with the drunk Jacque, trying to get more details, but couldn’t get much more than unhinged ramblings on how evil the dragons are and how insidious it was for a dragon to pretend to be a human. He had to leave to prepare to Neuvillette's arrival the next day.

_____

Neuvillette stepped out of Opera Epiclese into the rain and slowed down his pace to prolong the sensation. It was a bit of what humans called guilty pleasure, as he felt guilty from inflicting rain on humans for his own pleasure. Though from his understanding, humans felt guilty because they saw this pleasure as something bad for themselves. Even if often this supposed harm made no sense to Neuvillette. Eating too much food until a human's stomach hurt was at least understandable to see as such, but he heard one of palais’ secretaries say that romance novels were her guilty pleasure. How could humans feel guilty for something as simple as reading? He stopped and asked her why she would feel guilty for reading, because melusines kept telling him that socializing with humans is very easy, you just need to ask them questions about themselves and let them talk about what they like. Well, it didn’t seem to work, as the secretary stumbled, started hyperventilating and emanated levels of panic and anxiety comparable to someone in the defendant’s chair. Sensing human emotions did not actually help Neuvillette in communicating with them, as he could not discern the reasons. He asked her if she perhaps came into possession of any cursed texts? He could generally sense the stench of corruption and there was nothing on her, but there was always a possibility that it was a curse he could not register. She panicked even more and vehemently denied. At this point he decided to give up on socializing, as it was obviously very distressing for humans, but felt obliged to tell her that if she ever did read anything she felt was cursed, to inform him. He hoped it would assuage her fear of reading. She thanked him, stuttering, and after that day avoided him at all costs. 

The rain was a compromise solution in any case. Neuvillette always felt a bit strained and uncomfortable in his body, but after obtaining full dragonhood and most of the memories of past lives, the human shape felt downright stifling. He now remembered thousands of years of being something much bigger, long coils that could easily crush the spire of Opera Epiclese. Now, when he looked at his own reflection, it was hard to comprehend that this small and ridiculous frame was actually him. In addition, all of his memories and instincts called him to be submerged in water. But even with his poor understanding of humans, he realized that seeing the Iudex floating in the river would alarm humans much more than him standing under the rain. So rain was the closest solution he could get at his position. 

He summoned rain instinctively, to be as close to engulfed in water as possible. It was a bit embarrassing that even humans noticed it and composed a rhyme, even if that rhyme was inaccurate. He didn’t cry, as vishaps didn’t cry at all and even his current human shaped body didn’t have tear ducts. The closest he could pinpoint to human experience, as he understood it, was being stressed and desire to be comforted, for which water was his best remedy.

And currently he was quite stressed, looking over the Fontaine laws in an attempt to revise them. The current system that treated justice as theater was clearly imperfect, which he realized long ago. But he never saw himself as authorized to change it, as humans were the responsibility of the archon and even without it, he was well aware he didn’t understand humans, so he knew it wasn’t his place to question the human justice system, to which he was only a temporary guest. But now, as fontanias became part of Teyvat after his decision, and so, a part of his responsibility as Teyvat’s god of life, even if the usurper tried to deny him, he couldn’t ignore the need for change any longer. The problem was that he did not understand humans any better, so it was very stressful to try and restructure their systems of governance. 

He extended a hand, catching raindrops on his palm, when he noticed a silhouette near the elevator to the Fortress, and stopped himself from visibly controlling the weather. 

Wriothesley caught his eyes and grinned, approaching him at brisk pace, umbrella over his head.

“Greetings, Monsieur.”

“Good morning, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley always somehow managed to make a “Monsieur” sound more impactful than Neuvillette could “Your Grace”, despite one being a noble title and another just a polite greeting. 

“Would you like to…?” Wriothesley extended his arm with an umbrella, without actually covering Neuvillette with it. In the past, as a part of playing a role of “normal human”, Neuvillette accepted such offers, though there were not many aside from Wriothesley who dared to approach him with it. But now, as he was a full-fledged dragon, at the height of his power and influence in this land, surely he could afford to discard this role? Surely he could afford to be himself at least in this?

“No, thank you,” he said, smiling and trying to sound as cordial as possible, so that Wriothesley would not think it was a slight against him personally. “Don’t take it as offense, but I actually like being under the rain.”

The Duke smiled back, shaking his head.

“No offense taken, but why didn’t you say it last time? I felt like an idiot forcing you under an umbrella.”

“Really?” Neuvillette perked up, falling in step with the human. “You could tell that I…”

“Hated it? Yeah, for sure.”

“....prefered not to have an umbrella.”

Wriothesley let out a low, guttural bark of laughter that somehow got to the dragon despite him not being interested in humans in general.

“Not only I could tell I disturbed you, but I had to walk on the flowerbed to get to you, and then I trailed dirt in the Palais while everyone here glared at me for the audacity. Meanwhile you walked on the same dirt, but stayed pristine!”

“I’m sorry for…”

“Hey, don’t apologize. I’m just kidding, don’t worry.”

Neuvillette met the greyish blue eyes of thawed ice directly and sensed that he was truly not bothered, which didn’t make much sense. But Wriothesley was one of the very few humans who was not scared in the dragon’s presence. He was, probably, the only one who emanated only positive emotions at their meetings. Neuvillette mostly encountered negative reactions in his daily life at the trials, so he could not tell apart which positive feelings exactly that he read from Wriothesley due to the lack of exposure. But perhaps…

“I wouldn’t want you to feel unwelcome at the Palais,” Neuvillette said after a short pause.

Wriothesley grinned with a careless shrug.

“Then I will be there, even if the rest of your bureaucrats make faces. As I said, don’t worry.”

Neuvilette frowned, but didn’t see much point in pressing this further. After a confrontation with Navia, the dragon realized that his lack of understanding of humans hindered him, instead of making him truly impartial. Especially now that he was de facto in charge of the entire Fontaine government. And practice showed that only direct interaction with humans could give valuable experience, as watching from the Iudex seat did not allow him a nuanced understanding. 

So perhaps, if Wriothesley was a rare human who was not scared of him, and he proved rational and trustworthy in the years they knew each other, Neuvillette could confide in his true nature and maybe ask for advice in understanding humanity?

“Perhaps staying for some tea would make up for this past offense?”

Wriothesley stumbled for a moment.

“Seriously?” He sounded as casual and ironic as usual, but the surprised burst of positive emotions from him was bright and obvious. “After all these years you finally decided to deign my humble office with your presence?”

“It’d be a completely unofficial visit, of course.”

“Sure, sure. It was never my secret plot to bribe you with a tea party, trust me, even I realize my tea is not that good.”

His voice was ironic, but for a moment Neuvillette could see his crooked grin turn into a genuine smile. So, reassured that he was not imposing, Iudex nodded and followed the human into the Fortress’ entrance.

_________

The inspection itself was mostly a formality. The Court of Fontaine technically had no direct authority over Meripode, but it provided guards and substantial resources, and so it had a right to oversee the use of these assets. The actual budgeting was done on the regular in behind the scenes reports though, as the data was not visible in the in person visit. Still, it was a time honored tradition that got Neuvilette to show up regularly.

“Take a seat. It will take me a minute to make tea.”

Neuvilette gracefully sat down on the visitor’s chair In Wriothesley office, folding his hands on the cane. He still sat with a ramrod straight back and perfect posture, but there was a certain lightness to him today, which was hard to put into words. 

“The inspection is over, yet you are still nervous.”

Wriothesley knew he had a poker face good enough to cover it, yet Neuvillette saw it anyway. He had theorized for a long time that the Iudex could sense emotions, but usually he would not acknowledge it directly like this. “I wasn't nervous about the inspection to begin with. But inviting a high and mighty Iudex himself to the tea for years and then disappointing him when he finally accepts would be a devastating faux de pas. They will mock me on the first pages of all the papers tomorrow.”

Neuvillette frowned slightly.

“I must underline that I’m not here in any official capacity, and I would hope I’m talking to Wriothesley, not the Warden or the Duke. If you agree, I would ask that we leave the titles at the door.”

“No, of course,” Wriothesley, who had fantasized about leaving titles at the door and then clothes on the floor for actual years, said quickly, frantically recalculating how he could turn the tea party to wine tasting, which best wines he had confiscated in his storage and how he could make turning on the gramophone and then maybe leaning against the edge of the table in front of Neuvillette look natural and smooth. “Absolutely. I was just joking anyway, don’t mind it.”

“Ah, I see. I apologize, I’m unfortunately prone to missing humorous intent, so I appreciate your clarification.”

With how far the Iudex went out of his way to assure people of his good intentions in informal situations, Wriothesley really didn’t understand how everyone found him so intimidating. Especially because he very often had to interact with assholes in positions of power who did try to intimidate him on purpose and the contrast was very apparent. Neuvillette projected an aura of power without really wanting to, and then tried to over-explain himself to make others feel at ease. His earnest awkwardness was something like the clumsiness of a huge beast like an elephant trying not to step on the gaggle of kittens at his feet.

“In any case, there is nothing to be nervous about. After all, tea is liquid, and it’s really hard to make liquids unpleasant. So far I think only Fonta truly managed it.” Neuvillette drummed his fingers on the table and glanced at Wriothesley. “To be frank, if crimes against water could be prosecuted, Fonta would receive life in prison.”

Wriothesley snorted. “So no sugar in your tea, I take it?”

“No, thank you,” Iudex said politely and then, after a short pause, “And to clarify, I was not serious. There is nothing wrong with people liking sugary drinks, of course. I was just making an attempt at a joke.”

He really was horrendously bad at pretending to be a human. How could anyone hear him talk and still believe he’s a scheming manipulator was beyond ridiculous.

“No, I got it. It was a good joke,” The Duke grinned, placing a teacup in front of Neuvillette and sitting down across the table with his own.

Neuvillette gave him a graceful nod with a little smile and picked up his cup, giving it a swirl before tasting.

“Hmm. Interesting. Poignant. Bitter,” he said thoughtfully, tilting his head. 

Wriothesley was about to mention that this sort was not usually bitter, but Iudex continued. 

“Not by nature, but forced by circumstances. Not nearly enough water to be nourished, so it had to adapt and conserve strength, letting leaves seen as unimportant to die and concentrate on survival of the main branches. But there is not just hunger… there is a dream of rain. An ache of something not ever known, but yearned, longed for, without realizing what it is. But then…” Neuvillette closed his eyes for a moment. “It happened. There is a memory of luminous joy of water not gathered by mere drops, but drank in full, overwhelming, a feast after a life of fighting for scraps of morning dew. It had tasted rain at least once in the end.”

Wriothesley put his own cup down, leaning forward in disbelief.

“No way. This was a harvest from a drought year and it’s normally a mild sort, considered unusually strong in this season. How could you know this? Are you cheating?”

“You’re welcome to test me with other samples,” Neuvillette said with an air of a magnanimous ruler granting a boon and put the teacup down with a delicate clink. 

“Oh, I’m taking you up on your word, trust me,” the Duke grinned, but then paused. He didn’t want to spoil the mood, but he remembered how strongly Neuvillette felt about the perceived melusines conspiracy. Wriothesley had to tell him about the evil dragon idiots just to make sure he’s not thrown off balance later. That’s what the guard dogs are for, after all.

“Actually, before we move forward with testing your psychic tea reading abilities, there is something concerning official business that I think you should know. And then we can forget it completely.”

Neuvillette inclined his head with a small smile.

“There is a small group of conspirators, - and I must reiterate, it’s very small - who operate on the ridiculous idea that… uh, that you’re some kind of an evil dragon who schemed to overthrow Furina.”

Neuvillette's smile froze.

“You don’t have to worry about it, really. It’s negligibly small, and well, anyone with a working brain would not believe that you’re a monster in disguise.”

Iudex was silent for some time, not meeting Wriothesley’s eyes.

“Are melusines implicated in this?” he said finally.

“No. No, there’s no connection to them in this stupid theory.”

“Good. That's good. They do love living with humans so much.”

Wriothesley suspected that Iudex was taking things kind of out of proportion again.

“Listen, it’s really nothing…”

“No, no, I understand. It would be so unacceptably horrifying for humans to learn their ruler is a… monster.”

Neuvillette's voice wavered, but his face was impartial, strict, previous lightness gone completely. Wriothesley saw his hands tighten their grip on the handle of his cane a moment before he abruptly stood up.

“I must apologize for impropriety, but I have important business in the Palais which was inappropriate for me to neglect for so long. I must beg your leave to depart.”

Wriothesley stood up too, scraping to understand what he did wrong.

“Wait, it’s not…”

“Thank you for your time, Your Grace.”

Wriothesley shut his mouth, the title feeling like a slap for the first time in his life. The formality and politeness somehow only made it worse. He took a deep breath and willed himself to sound calm.

“I hope you have a nice evening, Monsieur Iudex.”

Neuvillette left in what for his usual dignified pace could be considered a hurry. Wriothesley followed him without being seen, partly to make sure he doesn’t get bothered by inmates and partly on an instinct to investigate. 

At the Fortress’ entrance, he watched Neuvillette walk under the rain, lifting his head upward. The blue strands of his long hair glowed and so did his coat-tails. They extended, shining brilliant bioluminescent blue, trailing behind the Chief Justice, in a moment looking like fish’s fins, then the next - as colossal snake’s coils. Sea waves crashed against the ridge without any wind, rising high, reaching to a lonely glowing figure of Iudex. With bated breath, Wriothesley watched Neuvillette extend a hand, as if catching raindrops - and rain stopped mid-flight in the air, lingering over his palm, waves frozen cresting over the earth. The raindrops gathered in a shuddering spheres, and then stretched upwards, against all laws of gravity.  Wriothesley’s heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette closed his fist and the rain flew backwards to the skies.

Wriothesley stormed back into his office and frantically searched through the reports, pages flying about, until he found the one about vishaps. He looked at the photos, seeing similarities he would never look for before. The dark blue color of vishap’s hide was nearly identical to Neuvillette’s attire, but that was small beans, easily written off as coincidence. Their eyes, bright magenta with white vertical slice of a pupil, resembled Iudex, but there was room for debate, as his eyes were much paler, lilac merging into gentle blue instead of a bright pink, even as white vertical pupil was so similar. What really struck Wriothesley after all this, was actually the little blue feather at the side of the head of both vishaps and Neuvillette. It was identical and looked so… deliberate. It had to be chosen and placed precisely like this. 

Still, this was not enough. He needed more evidence. He needed… he needed answers.

He walked to Jacque's block as quickly as he could without alarming inmates, but when he got to the conspirator’s room, Jacque was sleeping on the bed and a man was sitting on the chair next to him, reading a book. He looked up when Wriothesley walked in and stood up, clumsily dropping the book. He was tall and gangly, had dark hair, Inazuman features and light brown eyes behind the glasses. 

“Who are you?” Wriothesley was really not in the mood for playing games.

“Well, my organization caught wind that you are interested in learning some… historical information, and our poor Jacque is really not the best source, which is why I’m here to answer any questions you have,” the man gave him a groveling smile. “You can call me Enjou.”

“Not here. In my office. Follow me.”

When they got there, Enjou whistled musingly.

“Uh, what a nice office! Must be a pretty sweet gig. I wish I had an office instead of slinking in dump ruins all the time.” He sighed theatrically. “So, I assume your main questions are on the vishap situation. I…”

“Wait,” Wriothesley said, walking up to one of his wall cabinets. “You can’t expect me to just believe you on your word.”

“Oh, of course, of course! You’re free to rough me up a bit first. Maybe a little bit of torture? But only a little bit, I’ve got a glass jaw, haha!”

Wriothesley didn’t live so long as an undisputed champion of fight club to not recognize a freak who gets off on pain. He grimaced, walking up to the table where Enjou was already trying to rifle through the papers. He stopped with an apologetic grin and put his hands up. Wriothesley put a glass vial on the table.

“Drink.”

Enjou raised his eyebrows.

“Are we dining and wining first or?...”

“It’s a truth serum,” it was a secret project of the Sumeru Akademiya, before the sages were overthrown. Dendro Archon reportedly could read the thoughts of people, and sages were trying to replicate the effect at least partially. Wriothesley came into possession of it after using his network to get the sages connected to the needed people in Fontaine institute, as Fontaine was at the cutting edge of mech technology and the sages were apparently building an artificial god. Didn’t pan out for them, but the serum worked. Wriothesley was sure of it, because he tried it on himself first.

“Oh! How exciting! How does it work? Will it perhaps burn my insides in agonizing pain if I lie?”

“Drink,” Wriothesley said through gritted teeth.

Enjou smiled and drank the vial in one shot.

“Well, nothing is burning so far, but the evening is young, haha,” he said, smacking his lips.

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“Why are you here?”

“Huh? What do you mean? To explain the history to you, as I said.”

“Because of the goodness of your heart? What’s your agenda? Your goal?”

Enhou cleared his throat.

“Well, first of all, I do believe in uncovering and spreading so-called “forbidden” knowledge. But with your particular case can you really question my agenda? I didn’t come to you first. You were the one who sought us out. I didn’t even want to be here! I was doing my own thing without knowing about you, to be honest! But, well, I am in an organization with some unfortunate morons who thought that recruiting a convenient idiot and then sending him into underworld prison to make sure he isn’t heard is a great plan. And then when the Warden takes note of the idiot and gets him to blabber, these same morons go, Enjou, you have to get there, because you’re a vishap expert! Ugh.” 

Enjou shook his head in seemingly sincere frustration.

“But um, yeah, I’m not trying to recruit you or anything. We know how you’ve disposed of House of Hearth agents and how you generally obstruct Fatui’s activity, and we just don't want you to do the same to us. Because we’re not your enemy! So I’m here to provide you with the necessary context to see that.”

Wriothesley drummed his fingers on the table.

“Okay. Start talking about Neuvilette and vishaps.”

“Well, Neuvilette is a Hydro Dragon, that should be obvious. To clarify, Hydro Dragon here means Hydro Dragon Sovereign, because technically all hydro vishaps are hydro dragons. If you didn’t know, which is understandable, as you’re more of a fighter type and not a bookworm like myself, haha, vishaps are primordial elemental creatures, original rulers of this land and mortal foes of humanity. Long before Archons, there were Dragon Sovereigns in charge of each element. Then there was a war with Celestia, specifics of which are not widely known, but we do know that Celestia won, dragons were largely eradicated and the huge chunks of powers of Sovereigns were taken from them and given to the Archons. Hydro Sovereign was killed.” 

Enjou made a dramatic pause, before leaning forward with a grin. “But you see, vishaps reincarnate. Neuvillette is a Hydro Sovereign reborn in a human shape. There was actually an Inazuman prophecy about it, recorded in the Byakuyakoku Collection. That Hydro Dragon will descend in a human form, and it specifically mentions a cane. This really baffles me, to be honest. How could they predict the cane? Why does he even need a cane? Surely not because of any weakness, he’s an immortal dragon, 500 years is very young for him. And the records say when Neuvilette took his position as the Iudex some 400 years ago, he already had a cane. Was he born with it? Like, had he sprung fully formed, with a cane? Did he pick it up as, I don't know, honorary agreement with a prophecy? Or were his fashion choices actually predetermined to the degree that the prophecy knew them millenia ago?”

“Get back on track,” Wriothesley growled.

“Oh, sorry. Hmm, this serum works by forcing you to spell your thoughts out loud, yes? Well, then it’s not my fault I’m even more blabbering than usual!”

Wriothesley clasped his hands together and said slowly, carefully watching Inazuman’s reaction. “Even if he is a hydro sovereign dragon, as you say, this alone does not make him evil, as your conspiracy claims.”

Enjou fixed his glasses. He really had the hands of a bookworm, no work calluses or fighting scars. But there were spots of reddened, peeling skin that looked like burns that didn’t get to fully heal before getting burned again.

“Did you miss the “mortal foe of humanity” bit? But okay, sure. This is Fontaine after all, presumption of innocence and all that. I mean, I can’t read his thoughts to tell you under oath that he’s evil, so don’t take me to court, hehe!” Enjou grinned, clearly pleased at his own joke. “But I can tell what I know and ask some questions. My first question is why, after losing a war and presumably being killed by Celestia, would an ancient dragon god want to serve a servant of Celestia? The Archon, who rules with what is actually his own power? Unless he had some sort of agenda, perhaps? And come to think of it, why would Hydro Archon put a mortal foe of humanity into a position of such institutional power?”

“Are you implying Neuvilette forced Furina to give him the position of Iudex?”

“Well, I wasn’t here!” Enjou raised his hands defensively. “But why else would he become the Iudex?”

“There are higher beings and gods serving archons in other nations. Like Liyue adepti serving Rex Lapis.”

“Morax was known as the prime of the adepti. None of them could compare with him at strength. Same with yokai and Baal in Inazuma, she was the strongest by far. It’s natural that they would accept servitude. But here…” Enjou glanced at Wriothesley with a sly smile. “If you had to make a bet on a direct fight between Neuvillette and Furina, who would you bet on? Come on, I know tales that her own court would not listen to her until the Iudex tapped his cane.”

Wriothesley couldn’t really argue with this. When the Primordial Sea started breaking out, he himself sent for Neuvillette and didn’t even think to ask the actual Archon.

“In that case, why didn’t he just kill her immediately? Why would he play the judge?”

“Well, you see, he would not get his power back from just killing her. It would just pass to the next Archon. No, the Hydro Archon had to destroy her own throne. And running out the ruler requires a long game, as you know very well yourself, You Grace.”

Wriothesley kept a calm face, but something must have given him away, as Enjou grinned predatorily.

“Next set of facts and questions. You know of the infamous Archon trial, of course? When it was revealed that fontanian people are actually oceanids, given human shape by the previous hydro archon, Egeria? And the prophecy of the flood works because Primordial Sea waters dissolve fontanians into their oceanid forms. Well, the flood actually came. Why were fontanians not dissolved?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me that.”

“Hehe, yes. It was because Neuvillette turned them into real humans with his powers of Hydro Sovereign. How generous of him, yeah? The question is, why did it take him so long? It’s been 500 years, and yet fontanians were made human only minutes before the flood.”

Despite a feeble bookworm posturing, there was a shadow of unhinged madness in his eyes, dangerous enough that in any other case Wriothesley would cut contact. But the stakes were too high right now. He needed to get all the information he could out of this lunatic.

“You might also remember that on the same trial it was proven that Furina is not a Hydro Archon. And I can tell you that the actual Archon, Focalors, was in the Oracle machine the whole time. Sorry, I’m not even trying to pronounce that full name, haha!”

The urge to punch this bastard was overwhelming, but Wriothesley kept himself in check, mostly because he could tell he was being baited into it and he didn’t want to give the piece of shit the satisfaction.

“Anyway, Neuvilette had an audience with her right after a trial, and as result she killed herself and gave him power back. You see, Hydro Archon doesn’t have the ability to turn oceanids into real humans. All of you were just… things, playing at being humans,” Enjou said with a smirk that looked more fascinated than mocking. “But Hydro Sovereign, the original god of life, does have the power to do so. And he also, conveniently, has control over the Primordial Sea, which you, Your Grace, already know as he stopped the flood in your own Fortress.”

Wriothesley raised an eyebrow and Enjou smiled with a shrug.

“Again, I was not there! But I do know Hydro Sovereign controls the Primordial Sea, and that there is an entrance to the Sea in the Meripode Fortress. I also know that there was some emergency in the Fortress, where inmates were told to run as close to the surface as possible, and then Monsieur Iudex visited and the disaster was somehow avoided.”

Wriothesley frowned. 

“If he was really a mortal enemy of humanity, why wouldn’t he just let the gates of Meripode break and the flood happen right there and then? We would all be gone and he wouldn’t need to lift a finger. Instead he ran to help when I… when the Fortress called.”

“And what would that achieve? He still wouldn’t get his power back,” Enjou shrugged dismissively and then smiled, almost wistfully. 

“No, you know what I would do if *I* was the Hydro Sovereign with an ability to take human form? And if the Archon who held my power hostage was relatively weak AND had the prophecy involving a flood of the Sea I control? Well, I’d infiltrate human society, take a position of high authority and make sure the humans not only see me as the personification of law and justice, but also respect me more than their own Archon. And when the prophecy deadline is coming up, I’d make sure I have people loyal to me in some key positions. Such as Royal Duelist… and the Warden of the Fortress.”

“He didn’t make me the Warden,” Wriothesley gritted out. 

“No, but he did make you the Duke, didn’t he?” Enjou smirked with a wink. “Our sources say the Court was not thrilled to give the highest noble title to you. And if the Iudex did not throw his own weight behind it, it would have never come to pass. How generous of him.”

It was true, Wriothesley’s own informants reported that the Court loathed to give him a title, let alone as high as the Duke. Neuvillette was the only one who fought for him and fought hard, because usually Iudex’s one word was enough to make a decision, but here the stalemate lasted for two months. They wanted to compromise and give him the viscount, but Iudex wouldn’t budge, so in the end, they caved.

Wriothesley never asked Neuvillette for the title. Neuvillette never mentioned what he did for the Warden and never dropped anything even as close as a hint of asking anything in return.

Unless you see it as a part of centuries long game, where mundane favors didn’t matter, but being called first to the access of the Primordial Sea did.

“Ah, you’re starting to get it, don’t you?” Enjou sensed blood in the water, like a proper shark would. “Then I would orchestrate a public court hearing to absolutely discredit the current ruler and corner the actual Archon. And when Focalors is forced to talk to me…. I would make a bargain. Saving the lives of all fontanians in exchange of getting my full power back and Focalors dying. Isn't it ironic that the dragon playing human was the one to turn human-shaped water things into actual humans?"

Enjou leaned back against his chair, grinning with satisfaction.

“And then I’d have an entire country loyal to me as a ruler, which would make a great foothold to use for attacking Celestia.”

Wriothesley took a deep breath.

“You really expect me to take you on your word? You might believe it yourself, which will pass the truth serum, but the word of a lunatic is not evidence.”

“Oh, of course not! I would never expect you to take my lowly word for it. Instead, why don’t you take Monsieur Iudex’s word?”

Enjou made a dramatic gesture of spilling a heap of conches onto the table. Wriothesley raised his eyebrows, when the other man poked one of them awkwardly.

“Now that I have reclaimed one of the Seven Authorities from the hands of the usurpers, I have regained my true form,” a calm voice that was undoubtedly Neuvillette, said out of nowhere. “I am now a fully fledged dragon, powerful enough to judge the rest of the gods. My final destiny is to judge the Usurper-King in the heavens above.”

“This could be faked,” Wriothesley said automatically, just to argue, but his heart already fell.

“You wound me! These are his words, and I spent an entire night fishing them out for you, I’ll have you know. It’s quite hard to capture this. You’re welcome to listen to all of them and see for yourself.”

Almost against his will, Wriothesley reached out and touched one of the conches.

“…I shall fulfill my vow to judge all of The Seven in turn, even if the sky should fall and the ground give way.”

Wriothesley took an abrupt breath through his teeth. Enjou sighed and stood up.

“I think it’s better for you to listen to this alone. After, you’re welcome to reach out to us, but please don’t make any hasty decisions. I’ll see you soon, Your Grace!”

Enjou walked down the stairs, and by the time Wriothesley got to them, there was no one there. The Duke couldn’t bring himself to focus on that though. Instead, he walked up to one of the wall cabinets and took out a bottle of whiskey he was saving up as a possible gift.

He didn’t bother with the glass. He fell down into the chair in front of the conches and clenched his fingers on the bottle, icy veins springing up from under them. He took a sip and touched another conch.

“…my grievances with the usurpers have yet to be settled... They owe a debt of blood that shall not be forgotten.”

He drank, staring blindly into the distance, and listened, and the quiet words burned worse than whiskey sliding down his throat. He caught himself on a familiar thought. ���This can’t be happening. This is too monstrous.” The same feverish thoughts he had when he discovered the truth about his foster parents.

As if by now he shouldn’t have learned that nothing is too monstrous in this world.

“As a survivor of the dragon race who has regained my full dragonhood, I must fulfill my oath and obligations even if it means returning all the water in the oceans back to the heavens.”

It really did sound exactly like Neuvillette. Wriothesley tried to find the lie, something that sounded fake, but not only the voice, but the cadence and word choice fit. And it sounded calm, impartial as usual too. And then there were hydro vishaps appearing in Erinnyes…

Fuck, was it really that easy to fool him? Was he really this big of a fool? He learned to distrust sweet words and warm smiles, and he was so sure that he wouldn’t get caught in the same lies ever again, even if he sacrificed his ability to love for this. But all it took was a seeming opposite, direct and harsh, too cold and intimidating to appear manipulative, but endearingly awkward just sometimes, just enough to make him believe that… That there was something true and clear in this rotten world. That he could trust in *someone*.

“Nothing will stop me from rendering judgment on each of The Seven.” 

He went through all of the recordings, frantically at first, wanting to find contradictions, then, when none were found, numbly re-listening to the few that hit the worst.

“…also the destroyer of the present order, the one who shall judge all gods, and the foe of humanity. “

Wasn’t it too obvious in hindsight? Why would the Iudex stake his own reputation on Wriothesley’s title? How could you not see it coming? Oh, because you thought you “deserve” it for turning this dog-fighting pit of a prison into something with a modicum of fairness? Because you thought he recognized your redemption? Gods, what are you, fucking fourteen again, did you learn nothing, why would anyone ever care about you, you naive goddamn idiot?

Soon, the bottle was somehow almost done. At this point he was running one recording on repeat, mindless and purposeless except for repeating slashes of pain, familiar rhythm like the knife on his wrists years ago.

"Hydro Dragon, Hydro Dragon, don't cry." Whoever had penned that rhyme, as well as the Fontainians who came to believe in it, must not have known the Hydro Dragon all that well, considering that they thought the Hydro Dragon could cry. What did they take said Dragon for, some sort of bleeding heart who grieved for humans and the heavens alike?”

If this was true… If this was true, then Wriothesley didn’t just get fooled himself. Then he helped a monster take control of the country and potentially use it in war against heavens. 

He clenched his hand and it took him a moment to realize he broke the bottle he was holding in it. That pain from glass pieces in his palm felt small and distant now. But at last, it spurned him into action.

If this was true, he only had one shot. He’d already told Neuvillette of the dragon conspiracy, like a good little idiot eager to please. And any tyrant worth his salt would make sure to take him out after his, especially now that he outlived his purpose in giving access to Meripode vaults. He might have some time because of how oblivious he was, dismissing the conspiracy openly, but it couldn’t be long. 

He couldn’t take his time. He couldn’t hope for the better. He had to act like it’s the worst option possible. More than anything, he needed to confront Neuvillette, dragon Sovereign or not. He had to fix this, no matter the cost.

He realized he needed leverage. Brute strength was out of the question. Even before the flood, Neuvillette absolutely destroyed Fatui Harbinger in one flash, quicker than anyone in the audience could see what happened. Wriothesley would put himself against Harbringer with no hesitation, but he wasn’t an idiot. If this was how powerful Iudex was before, then after allegedly gaining his full power, there was no way Wriothesley could threaten him. No, he needed something else.

He took out the paper and wrote a note, taking care to not stain it with blood. Fortunately, he held the bottle in his left hand, so he could keep it out of the way.

“....and so confess that I, Wriothesley, Warden of the Fortress of Meripode, killed Chief Justice, Iudex Neuvillette.”

He finished the note and carefully put in his signature, then folded the paper into an envelope and closed it with his personal seal. Then he walked up to a safe, one of the hidden ones, and punched in a code. When the safe opened, he rummaged in it for a moment, until finally taking out two vials.

This was sold to him as the poison that could kill a god.

#rhine writes #rhine writes light #neuvillette #wriothesley #wriolette #genshin impact #enjou #i had a lot of fun with enjou here #anyway let me know what you guys think

[gold-rhine]

Inazuma Rewrite part one

This is bullet points rewrite for Inazuma general plot structure, bc I think it had so much potential, but was horrifically scuffed in game. If I keep something from canon unchanged, I’ll just say so without retelling the entire thing to keep the length down, bc it’s gonna be A LOT already.

Some disclaimers: I’m not trying to fix every single problem, just what I see as major structural failures. I will reference my problems, but you can read my explanations on them more in depth in my “inazuma ranting” tag.

This is also not envisioned as free for all fanfic where I can write whatever I want, but aimed to be actually feasible to see in game, bc it’d be unfair and I want to show that Inazuma could be improved in the same constraints that hoyo writers had. So please don’t ask why I didn’t do wildly inconsistent thing that would be cool, but genshin would never actually do.

I’m aiming to retain all relevant lore and achieve basically same worldstate in the end, including character arcs, for the most part, because I presume them to be integral to the larger strategic plotline of the game. Which means I can’t drastically change characterization and major plot beats like the decrees, rebellion, Raiden has to be a sympathetic ally in the end, etc. I’m also trying to keep genshin’s general tone and modus operandi, bc like, target audience includes 13 yolds and I can’t just “make Inazuma good” by turning it into like, a gruesome and complex power struggle of political factions like Fallout New Vegas.

List of main issues I want to address: pacing in general, rebellion pacing especially, lack of impact and continuity of effects of vision loss on people, lack of setup for the stasis vs transience aka ei vs makoto conflict, character arcs: raiden, ayaka, kazuha, kokomi, yoimiya, kujou sara. And more! 

Initially I wanted to make a single post, but it’s already 3k and I’m only up to Raiden’s first duel and I plan to cover post-archon quest content too, like Raiden and Yoi story quests, so I decided to split it up instead of posting like 20k monstrosity. So remember, this is for now mostly a setup.

EDIT: Part 2

Raiden’s motivations\Reasons for vision hunt

Ok, so one of the biggest principal changes is that vision hunt and sakoku decree are active Raiden’s decisions, instead of Fatui’s plot that she’s just passively allowing to happen. Raiden closed the country, but she’s ok with Fatui starting a civil war and selling delusions, bc it doesn’t “affect eternity”, like??? I honestly think that the current plot of her people dying in a civil war meant nothing to her is much worse than her starting vision hunt decree out of misguided plan to ultimately do better for people.

I mean ok, we have to have closed borders to reference Japan’s history, sure, but like, the whole point of isolationist policies like this is to prevent the outsiders’ influence on the country. So she should not be ok with Fatui schemes at any point.  

I mean, if it was fallout new vegas AU, I’d keep it to show that dictator doesn’t not care about foreign powers exploiting it’s people as long as it profits the empire and helps to keep people subjugated, but like. Then raiden can’t be uwu waifu. So we gonna give her good intentions and integrity, but misunderstanding of humanity due to closing herself off instead.

Now to why would she close the country and institute sakoku decree. I want to tie this in with another plotline that is just. Kinda floating at sidelines at the moment, but I think could work nicely in tandem. The Scaramouche destroying Raiden Gokaden, the five schools of weapon smithing, which were canonically highly valued by Raiden.

I’m not gonna recount Scara’s entire plotline, but basically he went on a misguided crusade against Raiden Gokaden and managed to cause fall of 4 out of 5 weapon-smith schools.

Game says that he like, tampered with the schools and covertly led to their ruin, which like?? They never found anyone guilty, like the most prized weapon art smiths of your country fall apart and you’re like oh well, I guess Yashiro commission is just bad at it’s job?

There is a plot point in this story where Isshin weapon smiths, unable to replicate a faulty design that was Raiden’s commission tampered by Scara, were scared of Raiden’s wrath and decided to flee to Snezhnaya. I want to change it to be that there is an event, where ALL weapon schools receive same commission at the same time, and Scara tampers with it.

Just as in canon, scared smiths, but now from 4 schools, not one, are manipulated by Fatui to flee to Snezhnaya, But we add a new NPC, the most talented blade smith who had a vision. Fatui frame him as the ring leader, as if they were running not to save their lives because of the tampered design, impossible to fulfil, but that this was a betrayal because of his ambitions.

After this, Raiden has legitimate cause to feel like her eternity is threatened. She sees weapon art schools, one of the most prized country’s traditions being ruined in a moment because of what she thinks is ambitious hubris of one vision holder, who colluded with outsiders. So she closes Inazuma and declares a vision hunt, to prevent this from ever happening again.

But ironically, in truth it was the fault of not just Fatui, but specifically a puppet without a vision that she herself created and failed to supervise. This brings the main idea of the plotline from “Fatui evil, Raiden passive” to “Solipsist goddess who doesn’t understand humanity tries to protect her people by locking them in stasis and taking their ambitions, but the real case of tragedy was her negligence and lack of empathy all along, and this is what needs to be changed.”

Interlude and plot setup

We start with similar plotline. Traveler tries to go to Inazuma, learns that it’s closed, talks to Inazuman NPC to learn more. Here we’re introduced to the general idea that Inazuma was closed off due to one traitor blade smith with a vision who sold off Raiden Gokaden to Fatui.

We go to Beidou’s tournament, which goes basically the same, we meet Kazuha and watch a beautiful cutscene about his dead friend who challenged Raiden to a duel, and now Kazuha tries to find someone who can reignite his vision. I will actually add changes to Kazuha’s storyline, but it be will later.

then we arrive to Inazuma, go through the same bureaucracy loops with Thoma on Ritou, to show the barriers to outsiders and also to illustrate how Thoma is the best fixer when he manages to drop a fee from 1 mil to like 10 gold by promising to have a dinner with government official.

But we’re cutting the second part of Ritou, with the boring plot about like merchant from Mond scamming people with the local police and then Traveler delivering love letter or whatever. I mean, we can keep this as an optional side quest, if like hoyo thinks the lore about love letter is essential for the Ayato’s quest or smth, but not as an Archon quest.

Instead, we put a part of Yoimiya’s quest there. I think Yoi’s quest is relevant enough to stay in the Archon quest, unlike Ayaka’s, but it’s slapped into a place where it ruins pacing. So instead, we’re cutting it up in parts and inserting it into main storyline.

On Ritou, while doing bureaucracy bullshit, we meet Yoimiya, and play the part of her quest about her helping a guy with a vision to escape from his former best friend, who is now a guard hunting him. It helps to show the rift that vision hunt brings not only with the outsiders, but with inside of the country as well.

Ghost of Makoto\Transience setup

another key point that I think is integral to fixing Inazuma is planting seeds for Makoto’s reveal from the start. I really like the Stasis vs Transience conflict from raiden’s second story quest, where raiden believed in eternity as lack of change, a perfect state maintained until the rest of time, while her twin Makoto believed in eternity as never-ending change, where people’s dreams constantly evolve, nature of them chasing these dreams never changes.

but it feels like it came out of nowhere and raiden just speedruns character development in like an hour, so a lot of people ended up feeling like it was just about Raiden mourning her sister, instead of raiden coming to understand makoto’s belief system and through that unlocking makoto’s final connection and then being able to let go.

so we need to first of all, introduce makoto’s ideas of transience from the start, and also empathize the conflict of them with raiden’s stasis.

and it doesn’t mean we’ll spoil the reveal about the second raiden shogun! we don’t have to ever use makoto’s name, just her title as a raiden and sprinkle her ideas throughout the land. We know hoyo area designers can do that stuff really well (guizhong’s relics being scattered all over liyue, rukkhadevata’s shadow in the aranara quest).

like, it’s strange that Makoto primarily ruled and shaped country by herself while Ei was just a warrior, yet we do not have Makoto’s influence visible. We need to add ideas of transience into fundamentals of Inazuma,

“Transience is the dream of the nation of thunder. We find the greatest joys in mortal life in fleeting dreams, for is life itself not like the shadow of the thunder? Pursue your dreams into the clouds if you wish, and enjoy the unexpected silence of the dim lamp-lit nights.” - Guide to Transience talent book.

add these ideas all over the place, esp near sakura. And let’s draw player’s attention a couple of times specifically to the internal contradiction of these ideas of transience being integral to inazuma and raiden’s current hatred of change.

like, we need even 13 yolds and twitch streamers to remember this, so lets make paimon say like

“Huh, this shrine to raiden shogun says that eternity is the pursuit of fleeting dreams, but doesn’t raiden shogun fucking hates dreams?? I wonder, what made her change her mind about them to the total opposite!“

this and more subtle puzzles\locations with focus on transience for people who pay more attention will add the much needed setup for makoto’s reveal

Kamisato siblings

ok, first things first, Ayato being absent without any explanation while his little sister is plotting treason and his malewife Thoma is about to be executed on the streets is unacceptable.

like I know it’s marketing or whatever and he’s not being released but we need his model, hoyo. If we 200% CAN’T have his model, we need to come up with solid excuse why he’s not here. Like idk, he’s helping the war refugees or smth

And we need hints at his presence\influence throughout the story. Like oh, here’s group of refugees who were helped by Yashiro commissioner, they are relocating to new homes, I guess Ayato is really busy. Oh, here is Fatui’s camp where everyone is slaughtered and boba tea cups are littered around, I wonder what is up with that.

and also, Ayaka is organizing resistance behind his back, and we never meet him bc Ayaka actively tries to hide traveler from him.

bc like, Ayaka doesn’t have a development arc in archon quest. She’s just kind of there, being perfect. Like in her story quest that hoyo makes you do at gun point, you like, go on a date, learn that she’s lonely and has trouble connecting with people due to the pressure of having to project an image of perfection and societal distance, do an investigation to uncover her late mother’s fox fursona roleplay diary which she used to cope her with own societal pressure. Which like. Ok, sure, but but this wet socks quest is not an archon quest material. It should be just a normal story quest.

no, Ayaka’s real conflict is wanting to prove herself to her brother, bring real difference to the world. This is her ambition, she literally gained her vision while fighting Ayato in a training, she wanted to show him that she’s strong enough to handle responsibility, he named her Shirasagi Himegimi after she won that fight

but during a civil war, watching people suffer, her role as a cultural figurehead is not enough. She wants to help, but she’s afraid to act, because this will undermine Yashiro Commission and her brother worked so hard to build it back up after Raiden Gokaden fall. so she organizes resistance behind her brother’s back in secret, to help, but without compromising Kamisato name

this basically tracks with what happens in game, but we spell it out and expand on this later.

Getting Traveler to help

next, let’s throw out the weird edging introduction where traveler is not allowed to see Ayaka the first time. like??? bro, we’re friends with 2 archons and heads of their governments, you’re not that important. and it can’t be to protect her identity, bc like. You go to Kamisato estate! You’re told who she is! If you wanted to betray her, that would be enough already.

another awkward thing is that Traveler, who agrees to do every stupid quest they meet, suddenly refuses to help the resistance.

I think we should reframe their convo a little, like Traveler says hey I’d love to help, but my primary goal is to get info about my sibling from an Archon, so I don’t want to go against her.

To which Ayaka says oh, I totally get you, you see, I am myself a culture figurehead and a nominal princess and I can’t speak up against the decree, bc that will hurt Yashiro Commission. But I’m not asking you to fight Raiden Shogun in a duel or smth, I’m just asking you to help people with the resistance, which we do totally in secret. No one will know! Also, how are you going to see Raiden? She’s locked up and doesn’t appear in public. But my big brother is a head of the Commission, if anyone can get you an audience, it’s him. So help me help people and I will ask him to help you see Shogun!

she secretly believes that after traveler sees ppl suffering, they will change their mind and help willingly, same as in canon, but she’s more subtle about it

Rebellion connection

my other problem with vision hunt is that the 3 quests they force you to do about meeting people who lost their visions are like. not good. The concept is interesting, but they are just kinda boring and meandering. They lack dramatic impact. They could do better. So we’re not doing these 3 quests rn, but don’t worry about it, we will get to the effects of vision loss

Instead, ayaka sends us to help Yoimiya and we do the same quest we do in archon quest - help her to free someone from prison dungeon. It goes the same, we get to the dude being mistreated by cops, Kujou Sara steps up and lets us go

But then it’s like, we need to get this dude out of Inazuma city. Cops know he escaped! They will just come for him again! There is only one place that will take him and it’s the watatsumi rebels.

Common complaint about Inazuma is that other countries feel like found families and Inazuma doesn’t, bc characters from resistance and rebellion basically don’t interact, and it’s true. And like, we can get them together! Thoma knows Kazuha, Kazuha knows Gorou, Gorou in canon went to recoinsanse missions to Narukami island.

So, Gorou visits the tea house to pick up the Vision Dude, and the gang has the hotpot meet up. Everyone is there (except Kokomi bc ok hoyo, we’re saving up for dramatic battle reveal, and i think her reveal would fuck up banner schedule). Ayaka, Thoma, Yoimiya, Kazuha, Gorou. and Teppei! Who is here bc he was recruited by Gorou. He’s actually from Narukami island, not Watatsumi, and he had nothing to do with visions, but he’s an idealist, he believes in freedom, so he joined rebellion. fun times are had, Ayaka tries to play srs bsns lady host, but breaks into giggling at The Shenanigans, Gorou is overly polite but adorable and apologizes to Ayaka about The Shenanigans in which everyone but him participates, Yoi is a life of party and the Shenanigans and later has to be bodily stopped by Kazuha from organizing fireworks right here, right now, Thoma and Teppei both get sick from eating Ayaka’s nasty cakes that she threw into soup, bc Thoma is just into oral stuff and Teppei is so earnest and eager to prove himself and impress ppl, haha comic relief, look how sweet and funny this guy is and all characters get along so great with him

bc like, I think Teppei has a problem of a) not having enough screen time b)not having any interesting characterization moments to make him stand out 3)not having other playable and already likeable characters interact with him

so this scene can serve not only to bring that “unlikely bunch of people becoming friends and working together” connection to life, but also to endear Teppei to the players

Vision Loss Effects\ Yoimiya and Thoma

ok, next Ayaka asks Traveler to do that one quest about martial arts master losing their vision. I think it’s the one quest from 3 about vision loss with most drama, but the real reason is that it introduces Yae Miko and we need to do this before leaving for the rebellion. Like, in theory, it could be switched to another, better quest that lets us meet Yae Miko, but honestly, this is not one of Inazuma archon quest problems so I can’t be arsed. Feel free to imagine a cooler intro instead.

when we go back to tea house, we learn that Yoimya’s vision has been taken away. She has been recognized in that last prison raid and the guards came for her later, and she didn’t fight bc there were kids and her old father around.

She’s completely changed. Her innate optimism, her belief in people and their dreams has been drained from her like a sunshine from a dark cellar. But she’s still Yoimiya!! She came here to warn you bc she still cares even if she had her own joy taken from her. She tries to smile and reassure you that it’s ok, she’s fine, but her smile is visibly strained, she’s never had to fake it before so she doesn’t know how. She wears a vision, but it’s a fake one, because her pops said that maybe having it here would help and she agreed, tried to pretend for him that it does help, bu. It very obviously doesn’t.

Ayaka is horrified. She apologizes to Yoimiya, tries to think of ways to help her, but Yoi just laughs humorlessly. “It won’t ever touch you, princess.”

She’s immediately disgusted at herself and apologizes, tries to take it back, this isn’t her, she would never say this, and not to her friend! But also, it’s so hard to care now and she can’t remember why it’s so important to care at all.

Ayaka is shaken. Bc it’s true! She is a privileged noble, vision hunt will not come for her! She is playing at the resistance from the safety of anonymity, while people like Yoimiya actually risk themselves and pay the price!

And this is when the news that Thoma was arrested and about to be 100th vision taken at the feet of the statue comes. Tenryou commission truly strikes back.

Ayaka is in uproar. She’s ready to go herself and fight for Thoma, especially after Yoi’s words. She’s sick and tired of being a perfect princess, she can’t allow any more of her friends, her family come to harm because they don’t have her protection. Clearly Thoma being a theatrical execution is a blow specifically against Yashiro commission and Kamisato family in particular, and if Shogun has beef with her, well, she can settle it with HER instead of going after her friends!

Traveler stops her. This is what they want. If Ayaka openly moves against the Shogun, the entire Yashiro commission falls. Even if Ayaka is in the right! No, it’s the Traveler who will go to save Thoma

But traveler needs raiden’s good will for the info, they can’t confront raiden openly, it was the deal from the start!

But at this point traveler has seen too much, the divide in the country, the change and suffering of their own friends, and they can’t allow all of Yashiro commission take the fall.

This is when the Traveler decides to take a stand.

ACT 2

#rhine talks #inazuma ranting #genshin impact #rhine lore study #rhine writes

[gold-rhine]

Guili Plains: the sitcom

In which Cloud Retainer forces Morax to choose superior invention at gun point and he chooses a gun, Yaksha siblings have to deploy Xiao’s secret power while being caught between a rock and a dust goddess, and Guizhong invents a music machine which can bring tears even to the eyes of Lord of Geo.

Characters: Morax, Guizhong, Cloud Retainer, Xiao, Bosacius, Bonanus, Indarias, Menogias

Warnings: none, safe for view, Morax and Guizhong could be read as either platonic or married for 300 years. 2023 Lantern Rite spoilers I guess?

Kinda part 2 of this fic , but can be read as stand alone. Pure fluff and comedy.

..... I .....

“Ah,” Morax said, very carefully and prepared himself for the tough conversation when he saw his two friends this evening. He knew a storm approaching even before the thunder hit. “And to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I don’t have anything to say about the farce she proposes,” Guizhong said in a tone that suggested she actually had quite a lot to say.

Cloud Retainer ignored this statement, but her eye twitched.

“We seek your council to use your authority as our arbiter to resolve the argument of whose mechanical creation is more superior.”

“You do,” Guizhong said immediately. “I do not. I *know* I’m better.”

Morax blinked, slowly considering his next words.

“Did it not occur to you that I… uh, am not so well versed in the art of engineering as both of you are?”

“Yes, that’s the entire point of her bringing in an ignorant layman as an authority,” Guizhong said. “She plans to impress, no, to *bamboozle* you with the unnecessary complexity of her plans, so that you’ll naively name her the best engineer.” 

“One thinks that Rex Lapis, as the most spiritually in touch with our nation, should be the one to realize which invention connects to it’s traditions.”

Morax blinked again.

“You’re doing your lizard thing,” Guizhong said. “With the slow, but repetitive blinking, not with the tail. You’re stressing him out, Cloud Retainer.”

He was too sober for this.

“Ladies, would you like to have a refreshment drink?” he said, walking up to a table with a wine decanter and filling up the cups.

“Sure,” said Guizhong. “I’ve been too sober for this for at least the last hour.”

Cloud Retainer squinted at him and said, “One might prefer to excuse herself from the festivities.”

“Oh, are you still not over his square cups?” Guizhong said, picking hers up and rolling her eyes. “Come on!”

“One just thinks that it is highly unusual to...“ Cloud Retainer glanced at him, cut herself off with a fake cough, fixed her glasses and continued. “It bears no importance. But back to the matter, allow one to introduce you to one’s humble invention, which represents a pinnacle of form and function that a loom can ever achieve...“

She was unrolling the scrolls with design on the table while Guizhong elbowed Morax and whispered conspiratorially “Psst. I have snacks. Do you want me to bring them out so you can pull out square plates too?”

“Is it Mora meat?” he asked back in a same hushed voice.

“Yeah.”

“No. This pettiness would be unbecoming of us.”

Guizhong narrowed her eyes, “You just don’t want me to eat my lowly mora meat with your fancy wine. You know what, you deserve her snobbery for your snobbery.”

“... And this is why it’s obvious that intricacy of one’s design is clearly superior to ballista's simpleton construction,“ Cloud Retainer was gesturing at her scrolls. “Though for the sake of fairness we should give Guizhong opportunity to present herself.“

“No need, I’ve heard quite a lot about it,“ Morax said and Guizhong huffed. She downed her wine in one gulp like a shot (Morax winced) and stepped up to Cloud Retainer.

“You know what’s your problem? You fundamentally misunderstand the true purpose of engineering. You think you’re better by the virtue of making your designs so complex and intricate that no one can repeat them, but it is in fact the opposite. Good engineering is about perfecting and simplifying the design until it can be easily used, maintained, replicated or upgraded by others. My ballista is so simplified on purpose, so that even someone untrained like him”, Guizhong pointed at Morax, who almost choked on the wine he was sipping, “would be able to fix and use it if needed with the minimal information he’s got from listening to me rumble. We make these machines for the PEOPLE, Cloud Retainer, not for bragging about how unique and intricate you can make your gears.“

Cloud Retainer pursed her lips and said, ice cold and glaring daggers over the edge of her glasses.

“One believes we’ve heard enough. It is time for you to name the winner, Lord Morax.“

“Oh, just name her and let’s be done with it. I don’t know why I’m wasting my time trying to explain the ethos of good design while all this arrogant bird wants is a meaningless stroke to her ego.“

Morax finished his wine, put the square cup down carefully and met Cloud Retainer’s eyes.

“If you demand me to choose, I will have to choose ballista.“

“What? Preposterous!“

“Yeah, of course he chose right winner for the wrong reasons.“

“We’re at war, Cloud Retainer,“ he said calmly. “Obviously, our nation would presently benefit more from a weapon than a loom. I don’t know what you expected me to do.“

“One expected you to have a better judgement, but perhaps one was mistaken indeed.“

Morax took a deep breath.

“Would you like some snacks?“ he finally said pleasantly and conjured a square plate.

..... II .....

“So, what is so urgent that we’ve been summoned for?“

Bosacius held up all four of his arms in a shrug in answer to Menogias, who just joined a group and tried to keep with a quick pace, but look dignified at the same time.

“Would’ve told you already if I knew. I was only told to assemble everyone and get to Rex Lapis’ tent as quickly as possible.“

“Was there an invasion?“ Bonanus speculated, tucking a strain of blue hair behind her horns in a worry. “Why else would Lord Morax need all of us at once?“

“A couple of us would be enough to handle a simple conflict on the borders. No, it must be a new hostile god at least!” Indarias said. “Ah, I hope he’s flammable, I’m tired of the wet aquatic freaks that you can’t even set on fire.” 

Alatus pursed his lips and shot Indarias a disapproving glare. ”Our duty is no laughing matter.”

She chuckled and ruffled his hair. “Oh, cheer up, little one, it wouldn’t kill you to have some fun once in a while.”

Alatus bristled in indignation, but before he could answer, they’ve reached the tent and muffled sounds of heated argument from within stopped any attempt at bickering. Everyone looked at Bosacius. He sighed and stepped first inside of the tent.

“... solutely ridiculous and I would not stand for you treating me like I’m some helpless useless... What is that?“

Guizhong and Morax turned when Bosacius appeared. He gave a ceremonial bow, looking pointedly away.

“My Lord. My Lady.“

The rest of yakshas entered the tent and stood in what was less of a military line and more of a group huddled behind Bosacius wide back.

“Generals,“ Morax said calmly. “You are to follow lady Guizhong on her mission and ensure her safety.“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake... All five of them?! I’m going on a scouting trip, not to declare a war!“

“You’re going into what is basically a hostile territory, hence even the need for ballista there.“

“So? I can take care of myself, I don’t need five yaksha generals babysitting me. They can do something more important.“

“Your safety is of the outmost importance.“

“You are so stubborn about the stupidest things sometimes! General, you have to agree that escort of all yakshas at once is a dumbass idea?”

Bosacius startled, being suddenly put on the spot. Bonanus made a squeaky noise behind his back. Menogias grunted, Indarias fire crackled in agitation. He could feel the stares of all of them at the back of his head. Bosacius looked from indignant Guizhong to Morax, who did not look like he was open to criticism.

“My Lady,“ he said diplomatically. “We yakshas are a simple folk, born for battles. We are soldiers, give us orders and we will fight to death, but I certainly could not hope to give any valuable input into your strategizing decisions.“

Yakshas behind his back breathed out in unison.

“Wow, you really are turning into a tyrant,“ Guizhong said to Morax, who raised an eyebrow in a expression that usually stopped all arguing, but she proceeded without missing a beat. “Even your strongest generals are afraid to voice their opinion.”

“Enough! I’m leaving and i’m leaving *alone*,“ she turned to yakshas and gave them a narrowed look. “And if someone tried to follow me, I would like them to consider that being crushed by a stone spear is a quick and easy death, but dying from chocking on dust is a very slow and painful torture.“

She stormed out of tent. Bosacius looked at Morax.

“Follow her,“ the geo lord said calmly. Bonanus squeaked urgently, Menogias rumbled and elbowed Bosacius.

“Um,“  Bosacius said. “As my Lord commands. I would just like to mention that it might be hard for us to ensure Lady’s safety while choking on dust.“

“Follow her stealthily,“ Morax said after a pause.

“Um,” Bosacius started saying. Morax folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.

“Sure,” Bosacius said quickly. “Of course. Stealth is my middle name. I’m barely noticeable in broad daylight.” 

“Ugh, I HATE being caught in the middle of family scandals!“ Indarias grumbled when they all got out of tent.

“Don’t disrespect our Lord,“ Alatus said with a frown and had to dodge hair ruffling again.

“You’re lucky you’re so adorable, you tiny killjoy.“

“We could’ve maybe got out of it if it wasn’t for the incredible eloquence of  Bosacius. “UM,“ Menogias mimicked mockingly.

“Well I didn’t hear any of your famed eloquence at all.“

“I simply respected your right to speak as our supposed leader.”

“Oh, so you respect my right as a leader when it’s time to argue with Rex Lapis, but won’t stop backtalking for the rest of...“

“Guys, guys, we need to do something,“ Bonanus said, fidgeting with her arms. “We’re going to lose her if we waste any more time.“

“You’re right. Ugh, what to do...“ he turned to the anemo yaksha. “Alatus! You’re going first, because you’re the most... stealthy. We’ll follow closely.”

Smaller yaksha stepped up and nodded solemnly, but Bonanus moved to hug him protectively.

“What? No, we can’t endanger our little brother!“

“No, no, he’s right,“ Indarias said. “Guizhong won’t hurt him, he’s too small and cute!“

“Am not!“

“So this is your genius plan?“ Menogias folded his arms, lip curled sarcastically. “To rely on Alatus’ cuteness?“

“I am stealthy!“

“Well, we need SOME plan. I’d ask you for ideas, but we don’t have time to wait until you design all of us camouflage outfits.“

Girls gasped and looked at the geo yaksha. Menogias snarled and pointed his finger at Bosacius.

“I wouldn’t rely on you wearing shirt ever, you barbaric...“

“Boys!“

..... III .....

It was a beautiful summer day and Morax was sunbathing in his original dragon form. He enjoyed his humanoid shapes just fine, but nothing could beat the sensation of scales of a cold-blooded creature literally absorbing sunlight.

Everything was perfect. The wind was rustling in tall grass and carrying faint smell of glaze lilies, the sky was of that deepest dark blue color that it only gets on July middays with no shred of clouds in sight, birds were chirping, Guizhong was sitting next to him, leaning against his side and fussing with her latest project. She would mutter under her breath things like “soulless music... I’ll show her soulless music...” or “elitist conservative snobs...” or sometimes move his tail to get to one of her wrenches or scrolls, but he was used to this and so it didn’t deter him from slowly dazing off. 

He was almost completely asleep when the loudest most agonizing noise startled him awake. It was the worst sound he’s ever heard in all thousands of years he’s lived, it somehow combined mechanical screeching, excruciating wheeze of nails dragged on glass and also deep low reverberating bong.

He flew up, ready to end the misery of whatever abomination was making this wail, but the horizon was clear. The sound stopped as abruptly as it started.

“It worked!“ Guizhong yelled excitedly from the ground.

“What worked?“

“My bell!“ she presented what indeed looked like a metallic bell, beaming proudly. Morax blinked and carefully landed next to her.

“You mean you made a thing that makes *this sound*... on purpose? Are you inventing torture devices now?“

“No, don’t be silly! It will be an instrument that will be able to compose and perform beautiful music! Eventually. Of course it needs work first, I will be tuning it in, but the important breakthrough is that it can make sounds by itself!“

Morax blinked and shrugged, which in his current form looked like a ripple, started curling back into position he had before he was so rudely woken up, and then froze in the middle of a movement, glancing at Guizhong sharply.

“For how long will it keep making these kinds of noises before it can play beautiful music?“

She opened her mouth, closed it, chewed on her lip with her eyes darting.

“Oh well, you know, it’s hard to say exactly... Oh! Do you maybe want some wine?”

“I will have to ban this, for the safety of the nation. And perhaps, the entirety of  Teyvat.”

“It won’t be *that long*, come on! Do you want snacks with that wine? I’ve got some fancy snacks, not just mora meat!” 

“They locked the knowledge of less torturous weapons in the abyss, Guizhong.“

“Ah, come on, don’t be melodramatic, drink your wine, it will be fiiiiine“

#rhine writes #rhine writes light #guizhong #zhongli #morax #xiao #genshin impact

[gold-rhine]

Four times Lumine failed to have a conversation with Diluc and one time she’s figured it out

warnings: second hand cringe, otherwise safe for work

First time they’ve met, Diluc Ragnvindr told Lumine “Not interested in idle chit-chat. If you have things you want to get done, let me know,” but it took her few tries to learn that lesson.

After some time, she could feel the silence growing awkward. Normally it wouldn’t be a problem, as she had a perpetual noise-generator floating with her at all times, but Paimon had a reverent crush on Diluc and was trying to keep quiet. Lumine herself was never the most avid talker, and currently she wasn’t fully fluent in the language, as she’s only had two months with Paimon to learn it, and even less fluent in social norms of this world, but she was never the one to give up before a challenge.

In all the worlds under all the stars the weather was the most universal, safe topic to mention. Sentients were always prone to discussing an upcoming rain or the lack of thereof, no matter if the rain was made of water, acid, sulphur, ice or solid diamonds. 

“So, uh... the weather seems nice!“

Diluc looked at her askew and said with surprising conviction 

“Listen, as long as you stick to your own path, it doesn't matter what Mother Nature throws at you.”

Lumine blinked. She opened her mouth. What could she possibly say to that??? Her mind was drawing blanks. She closed her mouth. She opened it again and said 

“Uuuugh....“

Thankfully, Paimon finally spoke up.

“Wow, Master Diluc is such a strong individualist, it’s really inspiring!“

_____

Sometime later she saw him stare at the distance with a frown and tried again. Surely it was just a one off blunder due to her inexperience in small talk.

“You seem troubled. Is something on your mind?“

“The darkness that seethes with evil, full of demons that must be vanquished, will take more than a blade to be torn asunder,“ Diluc said, not turning to her.

Lumine didn’t open her mouth this time. She knew immediately she wouldn’t be able to come up with the answer, so she just stood there, blinking at him.

“Wow, this is so deep, Master Diluc! You always think so strategically.“

_____

The third one wasn’t even her fault. She didn’t say anything, having already given up on trying to fill the pauses. Instead, the rain started and Diluc said

“I don't need an umbrella, but you can use one if you need.“

Lumine almost agreed, but then she remember what he said about how it shouldn’t matter what Mother Nature throws at you. Was it a test to see if she’s strong enough to “stick to her own path”? He said he doesn’t need an umbrella. Would he call her “weak and conservative” like the Knights if she took one?

While she was agonizing in silence, Diluc sighed and said.

“Rain... If only it could cleanse the corrupt souls of this world.“

Lumine almost tripped over her feet and forgot her troubles with the umbrella decision. Even Paimon seemed to have problems with coming up with something to suck up to *this one*. 

_____

It was the fourth one that broke her though. They were walking through an open field, light breeze passing through the high grass. 

“Some use the wind's whistling to drown out the sound of their crimes.“

Lumine bit her lip. At this point, she was fairly sure it wasn’t her inexperience in local social norms. No one talked like that in Teyvat either. What did he even mean??? What crimes??? 

What possible crime sounds can be drowned out by the wind’s whistling???

She started chewing on her lips to stop herself from talking. Diluc met her obviously frustrated eyes and nodded sagely.

“I know. Injustice is infuriating.“

_____

“You have already proven your determination. Well then, it is now time for you to witness my resolve.“

Lumine had just finished running back and forth to the Angel’s Share, throwing slime lures and lying to the Knights, and it was all for nothing, because turned out Kaeya knew everything anyway. She was, quite frankly, done with this shit. 

She looked Diluc square in the eyes and said calmly.

“Not interested in idle chit-chat. If you have things you want to get done, let me know.“

Diluc nodded with a small approving smile. It was so rare to meet a kindred soul.

#rhine writes #rhine writes light #genshin impact #diluc #lumine

[gold-rhine]

more afab scaramouche i beg of you

Sub! afab Scara x GN Dom! reader

warnings: nsfw, spanking, bondage, fingering, overstim, slight degradation (name calling), dacryphilia, squirting, vaginal penetration

wordcount: 1k

He hates not having your full attention on him. he starts acting so annoying, so teasing to get your eyes back at him, even if you look irritated.

He climbs all over you, pretends that he doesn't care, which is doubly maddening, because he's so obvious about being needy, yet he denies it so vehemently.

You throw him down, roughly, grab his hands to tie his wrists and pin his arms over his head. He struggles and curses under you, but only for show, he doesn’t say the safeword or put any real strength into fight, and when you yank his pants down, his cunt is already wet for you. 

You grin, slap his ass, and his skin is so tender, it colors pink immediately, and he yelps, shudders after every hit. You start slipping your hand to touch his cunt in-between the hits, alternating between the slaps and caressing his pussy, until the pain and pleasure blend together, you strike the soft flesh of his ass just as you stroke his clit. And he can’t help it, moans and bucks his hips, spreads himself wider for you. You tease his hole, his pink folds swollen and slick, and spank him at the same time, he whines, arches his back, his entrance pulses needily, leaking clear wetness, but you just circle it, do not enter

“Look who is such a fucking slut slut for me...”

“Fuck you…” he whispers, hiding his face in a pillow.

“I won’t, until you ask nicely,” you tease him, stroking his clit until he can't can't take it anymore

“Please….”

“Good boy,” you slip two fingers at once into his pussy, he’s so slick, that it goes easily. You fingerfuck him, while continuing to spank his red, achingly tender ass, and it makes such obscenely wet sounds, that he wiggles under you, bites on his lips to stifle the moans, tries to hide his blushing face in the pillows in humiliation. It doesn’t help, and very soon he comes, squirting, humping into your hand with high-pitched screams.

You let him ride the orgasm out and then turn him over onto his back, he’s soft and pliant in your hands, turns his head to the side, blushing, but obediently lets you spread his thighs. He’s sweet and pink all over under you, heated cheeks, tender peaks of nipples, reddened ass and thighs, swollen, glistening pussy. You nuzzle the head of your strap\cock at his hungrily pulsing entrance, and he can’t help it, thrusts up his hips with a needy whine.

“You want to be fucked so bad, don’t you?” you ask, smiling, sliding the length of your cock in between his puffy, trembling folds, hitting up his clit. 

“Yes…” he mutters into the pillow, his head turned to the side in shame.

“Despite all that attitude, you’re just my little whore, aren’t you?” you lean down, whisper in his ear, your hand stroking his clit.

His legs spread a little more for you, and helplessly, he breathes out “Yes…”

You finally thrust into him and he gasps, arches under you.

“Say it,” you tell him softly, catching his chin to force him to look at you, buried deep inside him. “Beg me.”

“Please,” he whimpers, eyes sparkling from tears, chest raising high and fast. “Oh pleeease, fuck me, I’m your good little whore, just, please, fuck me…”

You cover his gaping mouth with a kiss and thrust into him hard, and he comes, moaning against your lips, squirting on your cock, his legs flailing in the air. You keep fucking him, and he’s incoherent under you, thrashing and begging, tears glistening in his eyes, red eyeliner running, to pleeeease fuck him, please use his cunt, he’ll be such a good obedient slut for you, just for you, you wont need anyone else, he’ll do anything, but please fuck him. 

His pussy makes such obscenely wet sounds when you fuck it, he can’t even talk properly, just whines and writhes, absolutely helpless, open, squirts again and again. 

When you finally slide out of him, he’s a mess, his cunt is swollen and sore, his thighs trembling and covered in his wetness. You untie his hands and he takes quick, hiccupping breaths, squeezes his eyes shut and bites his lips, turning away from you.

“Hey baby,” you whisper to him quietly, pulling him close. “You’ve been so good.”

He whines and finally throws his arms over your shoulders, presses himself against you desperately. You hold him close, stroke the sharp knobs on his spine, his shoulders, his arched neck, his thighs, still open for you, promise him that he’s such a good boy, until he relaxes, his fingers stop digging into you so harshly. 

After, he’s shivering, pressing himself against you tightly.

 “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby,” you whisper softly into his ear, but he tenses up.

“Don’t let me go,” he says so quietly you can barely hear it, despite him being so close. “No matter what, *please*, don’t let me go…”

You stroke the dimples on his back, and with your other hand, the nape of his neck where his awkwardly cropped up uneven hair ends, kiss his temples, side of his face, corner of his eye where his long eyelashes flutter in a desperate attempt to hide his tears. 

“It’s okay,” you press your mouth against the corner of his bitten worried lips, until he turns his face to you, opens up. “I will be there.”

#scaramouche #sub genshin #sub scaramouche #rhine writes filth #rhine writes #genshin smut #wanderer #sub wanderer

[gold-rhine]

Afab! Scaramouche x GN! Dom reader first time

A\N: I guess technically it’s hurt\comfort. sigh. I don’t like to center my writing of trans characters on negative emotions, if you’ve read my previous stuff, you know when I write afab! male characters it’s like. Just guys, who happen to have pussies, having sex. And that’s how I initially started to write Scara’s afab first time prompt, but his canon storyline is so overtly about struggle of dysphoria, anxiety and self-hatred that it felt wrong to not incorporate it into my explicitly trans fic. So I had to rewrite it completely and I’m taking his part out of the compilation so ppl who want to avoid heavy topics and just have a good time reading smut can skip it. Otherwise, give it a try if you like complicated brats, I think it’s one of my good pieces and it has a happy ending.

Warnings: not sfw. graphic descriptions of dysphoria, anxiety attack, dissociation, angst, self-hatred, allusion to self-harm. Fingering, edging, overstim, spanking, oral (character receiving), vaginal sex. Cock stands for strap too, as usual.

Wordcount: 2k

You try to start slow and gentle with him, but he huffs mockingly.

“How long are you going to be wasting my time?”

“This is literally your first time, you little git.”

“Maybe you mortals need to be coddled, but I’m not a weakling.”

But despite his bravado, he’s tense when you kiss him, he doesn’t know how to properly kiss you back and what to do with his hands, so they just limply hang down. When you start opening his clothes to reveal his chest, he’s becoming more and more wooden. You try kissing him, his cheek, his neck, but it doesn’t relax him and he refuses to meet your eyes, still painfully clenched up, jaw locked tightly, like he’s preparing for something bad that he needs to just get through. He is not out publicly yet, still clinging to the belief that if he conforms to her expectations well enough, his mother will accept him. He’s so critical of himself all the time, especially of his body, which is just horrible and wrong, he hates seeing it himself and hates even more the thought of someone else seeing him naked.

“Hey, are you okay?” you ask quietly. “We can stop.”

“No!” he snaps. “I’m great. I don’t need to stop, are you stupid?!”

He wants you, is the thing. He wanted you for some time, got butterflies in his stomach, fantasized about you at nights. He wanted you more than anyone else in his life. So if he can’t bear even for you to see him, to have sex with him, then obviously something is deeply, fundamentally broken in him, no hope for him at all.

So desperately, he tries to find a roundabout solution. He’s still wearing a skirt, which he normally hates, but now it’s convenient, you could fuck him without taking it off.

“We don’t have to take off my clothes. There’s nothing good to see anyway. ”

He sounds frantic and frustrated, eyes alight with anger, and this does not look like a good situation to continue to you.

“It’s not a big deal, we can do it some other time when…”

“It’s just a cunt, you don’t need to see it!” He finally meets your eyes and you realize the brightness in them is not from anger, it’s from held back tears, because he believes you are rejecting him no matter what you say, “Why wouldn’t you just fuck it?!”

He hates his body and he doesn’t even want to have a pussy, but somehow subconsciously he feels like the one he has is also wrong, not even good enough for fucking, that whoever sees it will also recoil in disgust, as he does when he sees himself in the mirror. It’s ridiculous and he knows it, but he can’t help feeling like this, and he hates himself even more for this idiotic, nonsensical weakness, so this spirals into this vicious, unending cycle of self-disgust that he can’t see a way out of. What the fuck is so wrong with him that he can have a person he wants so much touching him and still be petrified, when it’s so easy for everyone else, and when…

You scoop him into your arms, turn him around so he doesn’t have to face you and hug him close to your chest. When he gasps and tries to protest, you clasp your hand over his mouth, kiss his ear.

“Don’t worry baby, I won’t look. But you need to calm the fuck down.”

He wants to struggle, but he’s so touch starved that when you embrace him, your warm breath on his skin makes him melt, especially combined with the wave of relief from your promise. He stops fighting you, curls up into a little ball in your arms, hiding his blushing face in a pillow, humiliated by how good it feels to be held, how little it takes.

“You don’t want me,” he says, miserable, but stubbornly proud, when you let go of his mouth. “You just pity me. I don’t want you to be here just because you feel bad for me.”

“I want you. I just wouldn’t want to fuck someone while they’re having a nervous breakdown. You or anyone else, for that matter.”

“It’s fine,” he says firmly. “I’m fine. I will be fine. Just do what you want to me, ignore my reactions, and soon I won’t even feel anything. It’s okay. I’m a puppet.”

It’s the conviction in his voice, the absolute certainty that there’s no better option that breaks your heart a little.

“Fucking hell, do you even hear yourself?”

“Why?” he says, face pressed against pillow, but calm, limp in your arms, a puppet with cut strings, and you hate it. ”It’s true, I am not like normal humans. You don’t have to treat me as one. It’ll be easier for the both of us, in the end.”

Maybe I just want you to feel good, baby.”

“Pffft,” he snorts like it’s ridiculous, like you’re naive and this option is not even on the agenda, and also so stupid he doesn’t even want to argue about it. “Even for humans, first time is supposed to be painful.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“No, everyone knows it, and…”

You clasp your hand over his mouth again and he starts squirming, noises muffled by your palm, but his protests die down as soon as your other hand starts siding down his body. 

“You’re so bossy for a little brat, aren’t you?”

You flip up his skirt and slap his ass, and he jolts up in your arms, gasps against your skin. You stroke the affected skin first gently, then with more and more pressure, until groping it, fingers digging into his tender flesh. “Maybe be a good doll and let me handle this for you.”

He didn’t know it could feel like this, not even when he came thinking of you before, so good, like he’s safe, being taken care of, but also so sweetly helpless, unable to resist. His head is light and dizzy with desire when you caress his thighs, nervously and instinctively clenched up, and he can’t remember his millions of concerns when you whisper “Open up for me, baby.”

He lets your hand between his legs, you slide into his panties and find him already wet, but when you stroke his clit and quietly tell him “Good boy,” it runs through him like lightning, eyes opening wide, moan escaping from his lips, his entire body arching up against you. 

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” you keep caressing his clit, and he writhes more and more against you. “Doesn’t it feel good?”

His hand grips abruptly at your wrist, his slender fingers digging deep, and for a moment you think he’ll try to tear you off him, but then you realize that instead, he presses you closer to himself. You smile against his neck, the hand that kept at his mouth slides down, stroking his throat and down to his chest. At the same time, you slide your other hand deeper in between his legs, find his wet, pulsing entrance. You push two fingers into him, and he shudders against you, his fingers clenching at your wrist, but his cunt is wet and ready for you, stretching sweetly and leaking, his hips bucking against you. His breath is quick and frantic, heart beating rapidly, and then his fingers find your hand that isn’t buried inside of his pussy, leads it down his chest and then under the clothes, under the bra, to find and caress his small tits, and he whines sweetly, arches up, hard nipples poking at your palm. But when you take your fingers out of his pussy and press the head of your cock against his entrance, he tenses up again, his muscles spasming.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing! Just do it! It’s supposed to feel good for you when it's tight, isn’t it? So just fuck it, I can take it!”

He shuts up with a tiny gasp when you press your teeth into the side of his neck, which lets you keep groping his tits.

“I’ve never met someone, for whom a ballgag is so obviously needed for survival before. It’s going to be okay, baby, relax.”

You stroke his clit and massage his breasts, cutting his protests short, his hands clutching helplessly at yours, not trying to stop you, but just trying to be grounded. 

“What if it’s not going to be okay?” he asks quietly, his face buried in a pillow. “What if I’m just built wrong, if it’s just always going to hurt when you try to fuck me?”

“Then we’ll figure out something to do that doesn’t involve penetrating your pussy. It’s not that hard, baby.”

“You would do that for me?”

“Of course, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to leave you just because I can’t fuck your cunt.”

“Really?” he asks, choked, trying for sarcasm, but failing badly, a raw edge in his voice. 

you would just switch to eating him out, but he seems pretty hung up on the inability to take you in, but from how easy it was to fit your fingers into him, how he seemed to enjoy it, you’re pretty sure the issue is psychological. So you stroke his clit, squeeze his breasts and kiss at the side of his jaw. You can feel his entrance involuntarily pulsing open and you push the head of your cock into him, feeling him stretching wider. He turns his head to you in alarm, but you catch his mouth in a kiss, keep caressing his body and slowly moving deeper into him. His fingers move from your wrists to intertwine with your hands, and when you squeeze back, he comes so quickly in your arms, before your cock is even fully sheathed inside of him. 

You hold him through the orgasm, then slide out of him, but then he turns in your arms, until he’s under you, he’s looking up at you, instead of being held. 

“I want more,” he breathes out, hot and heavy, and before you can think of the answer, he pulls his clothes open, opening his bra and revealing his chest, and then tugs his skirt and soaked panties down. He lies under you, both trembling and determined, his breath fast and nervous for exposing himself to you after trusting you won’t be disgusted with him, that you’’ll *want him*. 

“You’re so beautiful,” you run your eyes over him and kiss him, hard, and he presses himself against you, kisses you back with desperate abandon, but still when you break away from each other, he asks, his voice small. “Really?”

In response, you pepper him with hungry kisses, from the neck down the chest, ribs, stomach until you cover his swollen pink pussy with your mouth, while he’s leaking sweetly under your lips. When he comes, and he comes quickly, moaning loudly, you pull him close and kiss his lips with the taste of his own arousal.

“Really,” you tell him softly, while he’s blushing, soft and squirming against you. He shoots you a wry little look that you already came to associate with trouble coming, and says, trying to sound superior, but failing because of mischievous little smiles breaking his act

“So you like this body? That’s so degenerate of you, who would even like something so ugly and…”

He yelps and shuts up when you forcefully turn him over to lay on his stomach and slap his ass, but he looks pleased afterwards.

“There are much better ways to get spanked, you little brat.”

He arches his back, popping up his ass and spreading his thighs to show off his wet flushed pussy, entrance pulsing up open for you. Then he looks at you over the shoulder, eyes glinting in excitement, and sticks out his pink little tongue at you.

“Oh really?”

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #sub scaramouche #sub wanderer #scaramouche

[gold-rhine]

amab adeptus girls🙏���🙏

I would like to mention that this ask was received before the current lantern rite, where the Hot-Sonas of madame ping and cloud retainer were revealed, so I'm only doing Ganyu

amab sub! Ganyu x afab Keqing

Warnings: nsfw, handjob, oral, bondage, workaholic lesbian flirting

Wordcount: 1,3k

“I will deal with this tomorrow, according to our plan then,” Ganyu said, looking up from the documents spread out on the table. They both stayed late in Keqing’s office, in fact, so late the entire building was empty by now.

Keqing nodded, leaning back in her chair.

“Sure. And if some unforeseen circumstances arise, I trust your judgment in dealing with them.”

“You do?” adeptus blinked a few times, her plump pink lips opening in surprise.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I?” Keqing raised her eyebrow and the other woman blushed faintly, looking away.

“It’s only that I’ve thought you consider me… best suited to executing orders instead of making decisions.”

“Ah,” it was Keqing’s time to blush, but she didn’t look away. She believed in facing up her past bad judgements head on. “Well, maybe at first. But I was very inexperienced back then and I’ve changed my opinions on many positions, including your evaluation. I’ve come to respect and admire your ability, especially that you’d carry out orders perfectly even if you didn’t agree with the premise entirely. Many others would use that opportunity to sabotage the whole project and get some personal leverage.”

“Even if I didn’t agree with you, I could always tell you’re dedicated fully to the good of Liyue, so why would I not give your ideas the best chance they can have?” Ganyu said passionately, leaning forward, her cheeks glowing and chest raising. “And I’ve come to respect and admire your abilities and your bravery, honesty, and propensity for innovation too. It’s an honor to help bring your vision of this country’s future to life.”

Keqing always believed in seizing the opportunity while it’s there, so she reached out, caught the other woman’s chin and kissed her. Ganyu made a muffled squeal of surprise, but answered the kiss, her tender lips sweet and timid at first, but opening more and more as she threw her arms over Keqing’s neck. She leaned in as Keqing’s hands roamed over her body, squeezed her full breasts, slid down her bare back and groped her ass.

“Wait…” the adeptus whispered breathily, breaking a kiss. “There are few things you should know about me…”

“Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

“No, I have to tell you first…”

“Okay, of course, what is it?” Keqing asked soothingly, at the same time opening the clasp which held up Ganyu’s top at her neck and sliding it down to reveal her beautiful breasts. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone… so I’m afraid I’m very rusty…”

“It’s fine.”

“No, I mean it’s been hundreds of years… I might not know what’s expected of me now…”

“Yeah, it’s fine, I’m pretty sure the concept of a pillow princess hasn’t changed since the old times,” Keqing said with emphasis, kissing the other woman's throat. Ganyu’s chest had wide, but very pale pink areolas, almost transparent lilac, but her nipples turned into small, hard pebbles under the caress. 

“Oh, they have a name for it now? Okay, but… There’s another thing…” adeptus blushed brilliantly, but firmly slid her body suit off to her thighs, revealing…

“Rex Lapis, you have a tail?!”

A fluffy pale blue ball of fur with white underside trembled at Ganyu’s backside.

“It’s hardly appropriate to invoke Rex Lapis’ name at a time like this!”

“You’ve had a tail this whole time? You had a fake metal accessory in place of a tail while there was an *actual* tail under it all along?!”

“Yes… It’s yet another sign separating me from the humans, but also a reminder that I lack the power of true adeptus to have complete control of my form…”

“It’s adorable. It looks very cute on you,” Keqing said, sliding her hands down the archer’s body and between her now bared plump thighs. Adeptus blushed at the compliment and her cock twitched under Keqing’s palm.

“Isn’t it uncomfortable to have it squished up like that?”

“Well, it’s hardly appropriate for the Secretary to have a wiggling tail out! It would certainly ruin any claim to serious authority!”

“I think it’s very respectable, but I recognize your reasons. Though I think people would get used to it and treat you according to your immaculate deeds rather than appearance, but ultimately it’s up to you to decide.”

“Thank you. I know you don’t believe in the inherent superiority of the adepti, so I trust you would not treat me differently…” “Never,” Keqing muttered against the other woman’s throat, stroking her pretty dick. Ganyu squealed, overwhelmed, her hands uncontrollably rose up to her collarbones, flailing nervously.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m very rusty as I’ve said… I just… don’t know what to do with my hands sometimes…”

“It’s okay. I think I can solve this problem,” Keqing opened the lower drawer of her table, rummaging around until she found the handcuffs.

“Oh…” Ganyu breathed, blushing even brighter, but shyly offered her wrists nonetheless. Keqing kissed tender skin and closed handcuffs over it, and then attached the clasp to adeptus’ choker, where the stylized bell usually dangled, so that her cuffed hands were fixed near her neck.

“Better?” she grinned and kissed Ganyu without waiting for an answer from an embarrassed, but clearly pleased secretary. She writhed under Keqing’s hands, her hips thrusting and trembling helplessly. Her small thick dick was throbbing sweetly, tip leaking and staining her tummy and dripping down on her plump thighs. She came whimpering with Keqing’s mouth on her breasts and hand pumping her cock, shivering and leaning against the other woman.

“Are you okay…” Keqing started asking, when the secretary started moving. Ganyu trailed kisses down Keqing’s chest, ribcage and stomach, until she nuzzled against her skirt and looked up. She looked so sweet, kneeling with her hands helplessly chained over her full breasts, with pink nipples peaking hard from arousal, big violet eyes looking so meekly and patiently. Keqing lifted her skirt and pulled down her panties, revealing her pussy, and the adeptus immediately buried her face in it, lapping at the exposed clit. Keqing moaned and threaded her fingers in the soft curls of the Ganyu’s hair, when the other woman looked up.

“Please don’t tug at the horns…” she muttered shyly, blushing bright.

“Mmm, okay. I thought the livestock’s horns didn’t have any sensitivity though.”

“Well, I’m not livestock,” Ganyu said defiantly, which was adorale considering her mouth was still pressed against Keqing’s cunt. “My horns are very sensitive.”

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry if I was rude,” Keqing said, recalculating her mental system, which was somewhat hard due to her cunt at the moment being exposed and licked. “I would never hurt you. Should I not touch them at all or is it okay if I’m very gentle?”

Ganyu looked up, her cheeks red with blush, her large breasts pressed against Keqing’s legs and pink tongue sticking out as she was licking at the other woman’s pussy.

“You can touch them… if you’re careful…”

Ganyu’s tongue lapped against the other woman’s cunt, while Keqing’s trembling fingers ran along the ridge of red-black horns, rubbed tenderly at the base, making the archer moan sweetly against her flesh. And she was good, she ate Keqing out so well, her mouth gentle, but persistent, and her tiny whimpers felt so good against the wet cunt when Keqing played with her horns. Keqing made sure to not grip them though, when she got close and was losing control, thrusting against adeptus’ face and moaning quietly. She came in shudders and leaned back on the chair, while Ganyu crawled up onto her lap. The archer nuzzled at her neck and curled in a cute, chubby ball, and when Keqing came back to her senses, Ganyu was already sleeping.

“Wait…” Keqing breathed out, her eyes widening. “Is *that* what you thought pillow princess means?"

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #keqing #ganyu #ganyu x keqing #sub ganyu

[gold-rhine]

So you want to date a Changeling prince of a cursed kingdom, a manual.

Warnings: safe for work. mentions of kissing. Depression, dissociation, general angst… but very stylized, so not graphic.

A\N: Changeling Kaeya x reader. More metaphor than AU tbh.

Wordcount: 2k

If you have found yourself swayed by the charms of a beautiful sweet-talking knight, who is secretly (gasp!) is a prince of the underworld cursed realm, sent to live among the humans at a young age, or shortly, a changeling, then this manual is for you. And do not make a mistake of thinking you do not need it! 

Do you think that knowing a few common superstitions will make you safe from the fae tricks? This overconfident and naive point of view is what leads many people into traps of the fair folk and is eagerly supported by them for this exact reason. Fear not, for this manual will prepare you fully.

To illustrate, there's a common misconception that fae traps look like mushroom circles. And true, they can look like that, but the danger is in thinking this is the only way fae can trap you, so people lower their guards if there's no mushroom circle in sight. In truth, form of a trap matters not at all and in fact, fae do not need any material components to execute their magic. 

Say, you're walking past your fae princeling to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, and you do not have any intention to linger around him. He looks up from the favonius documents he’s working on and smiles at you, briefly, but radiantly, somehow managing to convey how much he’s happy to see you and how much you’re brightening his day. He doesn’t call to you, but seeing the genuine joy at your sight in his eyes, you make a slight detour to trace your hand over his shoulder, and this is it, the trap is locked. He will close his hand over yours and turn his head to you, catching your lips.

You might have thought he’ll be clingy, but it’s not exactly true. He will never try to keep you for longer than you’d want to. It’s that he will make himself so seductive, so irresistible that you’ll want to stay longer. He’s so glad to have you, so pliant and ready to bend into the form that just so comfortably fits you at the moment that you won’t want to leave. It’ll feel so natural to slide your arm over his shoulders, to lean against him, bury your chin in the dark silk of his hair. He lets you do anything you want, his fingers intertwine with yours, his arm tightens around your waist. He hums contently, gets back to writing up the documents with one free hand. 

This is it, the trap is closed without any mushrooms involved. 

Oh, of course, you can leave at any moment. You’d just need to forcefully disentangle yourself, shake off his arm, break off the grip of his fingers. He’ll let you go easily and won’t say anything to you or try to stop you. The one insignificant matter is that you’ll know that he was happy you were there and then you left. So leave if that sounds good to you.

Of course, there are some advantages for dating him, other than just sweet, wine-stained kisses. 

He’s so easily charismatic, so sparklingly charming, he can tell you some local gossip like it’s the most entertaining drama of the last theatrical season, humorous and tragic by turn, and watch your reaction like a hawk, change the tone sharply if you like it more. Surely a sign of a manipulative and lying blood of the fae, it’s not like he could enjoy just entertaining you, reality bended for the sake of your smile. He’s a talented storyteller, and he can talk to you for hours, listen to your laughter with an easy grin and hand closed over yours, but it doesn’t count. He’s a spy and a liar and nothing about him could change it.

As one of the folk who deal in favors, he’s very attentive, he listens seriously to even the smallest of your worries, even if he never really complains himself. He gives advice, strategizing like it’s one of the tasks for the favonius knights, like he cherishes the fact that you trust him enough to share your problems. 

He cannot give favors of magic or gifts of secret knowledge, so he shares his own. He gives you homebound little books, written in his own beautiful cursive, personalized and addressed like letters, about everything and anything useful he can think of, - how to haggle in shops, what food pairs with what wine, how to tell you’re being scammed. He considers helping to learn a skill much more valuable than just solving a problem once, so a week after complaining about an annoying coworker you receive a handwritten pamphlet on their weakness and how to better deal with them, which he learned by “accidentally” bumping into them in a tavern. 

The advantageous thing about him being a changeling and not a true-raised fae, is that he will let you break an unspoken contract with no repercussions, with the only caveat that he will never trust you again. Which is a small price to pay to get free of the fair folks schemes.

So you can break his heart once, free of charge. But in truth, you won’t need to. Let the romance run it’s course and he will let you go himself.

Because another misunderstood thing about the fae is glamour. Most people know that glamour is a magical facade fair folk use to blend in and impress the humans, but don’t know how it actually works. Many think it’s an actual visual illusion, but let me assure you, it’s not. Your changeling is exactly as beautiful as you see him, he will not turn into an ugly pumpkin when the glamour breaks. But the everyday world chafes at the edges for a fae, takes a lot of energy and worns them down, and glamour is an attractive shell that smoothes the interaction. So when your changeling is out of energy to keep up the glamour for you, he will leave -  or arrange that you will leave him yourself.

You might feel confident because he said sometimes, in feverish stolen whispers, that he loves you. Know that this will not change anything. Not because he lied. As a fae, he can’t lie outright, but because the world never cared about what he loves or wants. 

No, it’s about the glamour, a spell that will be both his safety and his cage, sudden frost in the spring which captures young flowers before they can ever bloom, keeps them fresh and pretty for longer, but never lets them open up. Oh, but how sweet and beautiful the ice makes your changeling, isn't it worth it?

Here’s the secret. You can have either the fairytale glamour or a man underneath, not both, so make your choice. 

Know that he will want you to leave.

And that’s for the best for the both of you. You won’t have to deal with his curse or his ghosts. You can have a round of wonderful waltz under the glacial lights and then move on with your life, having experienced charming adventure, knowing how to discern best taste of champagne and for the rest of your life having that sparkle in your eye which one only gets after being courted by a fae or having an affair in spring Paris. 

But perhaps you’ve been so uncareful as to fall for him.

Any decent prophet or a witch worth her salt will tell you to forget it. He’s not worth the trouble by far. His curse runs in blood, weaved into him too tightly to untangle, and even true love cannot lift those.

And he’s not even a true prince, when you get down to it. There are a lot more exciting and interesting options for romantic entanglements than the cursed son of a regent's bloodline if what you’re looking for is an exotic adventure. 

But perhaps you've noticed the crow under the peacock feathers and fell for the sincerity of it instead of the charm of glamour. Perhaps you’ve liked the awkward overeagerness of beautifully penned down manuals over the brazen manipulations. Maybe you’ve seen him one morning in a kitchen, lost in the thought reading a book while waiting for coffee to be ready, hair in a messy bun and balancing on one leg, worrying pages of the book, so painfully human, until he notices you and looks up, almost stumbling by surprise, but catches himself due to natural easy grace, and laughs when you move closer to catch him, and a sharp needle goes suddenly through your heart because how beautiful he is and how happy you are to have him. The book is left forgotten on the windowsill like many others, not interesting enough to hold his attention, which you sometimes collect to make sure the librarian doesn’t paralyze half of your forgetful changeling again.

Well, if you want to keep him, truly him and not the pretty image, you need to look for the breaks in the armor of the ice. He hates this weakness, so he’ll slide away, try to hide from everyone when he doesn’t have the strength to keep the mask up. 

It will be easy to find him for the first time because he doesn’t think anyone will look for him. He’s standing on the bridge, alone, looking at the moonlight glinting on the dark river, breaking a cigarette he stole from Rosaria in the slender anxious fingers. He doesn’t want you to see him like this, but as a rule, he cannot leave if you don’t let him go. So his usual easy wit turns into prickly, acidic sarcasm, the scales of a trashing lindworm. And, like Tam Lin, you have to hold him tight and fear not, no matter how much he tries to push you away. One thing you can say as an answer to any of his snide remarks is “Do you want me to leave?” (remember he cannot lie outright)

Dropped cigarette floats down the dark river, but his fingers still smell of tobacco when you tangle them with your own. The chill wind makes you shiver and his hand twitches.

“Well, I hope you’re enjoying freezing in the cold for no reason instead of having fun at the party.”

“Well, you chose to brood out there in the cold, so it's really on you.”

“I don’t *brood*. And you didn’t have to follow me. Go back, it’s okay.”

“Oh, shut up, Kaeya.”

You tighten your arms around him and he sighs, buries his face in the side of your neck. The tip of his nose is very cold against your skin. The crisp armor of ice cracks, but holds up.

Don’t think that catching him one time will break the spell. Next time his mask starts slipping, he’ll hide better. But never that you cannot find him if you give enough of a shit. You’ll be able to find your lindworm through the cold blue fog of the lonely pine forests of the streets if you care just enough.

And the more times you find and hold him, the less far he’ll hide. Until one day, he’ll come to you himself instead of running away, put his chin onto your shoulder from behind and close his eyes. Sometimes, he can complain of the everyday matters, which he would never allow himself before, because he knew he had to be fun to be around, and sometimes he’ll be quiet, the black jaws of the abyss gnawing on his inside of his ribs and only the warmth of your embrace keeping the ghosts from closing in. 

If you ignore or dismiss him at a time like this, the spell would break though and he will be whisked away. Because faery spells in their nature are *deals* and the price of keeping him is not love, it’s trust. 

And it’s trust that makes the blizzard of glamour which follows him melt and shed like a discarded heaps of snow when it sees you, so that he has time to recover the strength to pick it up the next day when he has to go back outside. Of course, you’d wish to break the curse completely, but it’s iron thorns run too deep, dig too tight into his flesh. Because you cannot break his curse, but you can stand with him under the damned sword of fate hanging above his head. 

Why would you want to, though?

#rhine writes light #rhine writes #kaeya #kaeya alberich #only like 3 other ppl are gonna care about this lmao #genshin impact #kaeya x reader

[gold-rhine]

sub! character x Dom! Reader facefucking

Characters: Tighnari, Venti, Heizou x Kazuha, Thoma x Diluc

Warnings: nsfw, oral obviously, gagging, rough sex, bondage, spanking, slight degradation, vibrators. well, threesomes, if that wasn’t obvious.

Wordcount: 1,5k

Tighnari

Tighnari sucks your cock like it's a work assignment. He's serious and focused, there's no hesitation or shyness in him, despite him sitting naked on his knees in front of you, only a slight frown of concentration and ears attentively tilted forward, like he's figuring out the best solution to a problem. He doesn't start slowly, instead, immediately takes you in deep, starts bobbing his head up and down fast and diligent. As with everything he does, he's very good and he knows it.

But his seriousness also makes him very fun to provoke, so you turn on the vibrator up his ass and his entire body jolts up in surprise. He gives you a glare, disapproving from being distracted, but with his mouth full of your dick, it looks adorable instead of menacing. He keeps working on you with the same steady rhythm, but as you increase power of the vibrator, he starts gradually giving in into arousal, blush spreading over his cheeks and eyes lidding over. In a little time, his composure starts breaking, he loses the hard pace, his own cock leaking and knees spreading involuntarily on the floor. When you put your hand on his head and bury your fingers in his soft hair, he melts under your touch completely, his ears tremble and flatten back, tail twitching. You fuck his slack and drooling mouth while he moans quietly and needily around your cock, his eyelashes fluttering, eyes hazy from pleasure. He comes with a shudder when you tell him how well he's doing, what a good little pet he is and how much you like fucking his mouth. 

After, you pull him into your lap and tell him he's done a good job. His ears perk up, but he says with almost insulted peevishness, despite still leaning against you, sweet and weak after orgasm "I know, and I wish you'd stop interrupting me." You chuckle and kiss his blushing cheek. "You should let go sometimes and just enjoy yourself, baby."

Venti

Venti is wearing his favorite lacy lingerie, with high stockings that leave his thigh tattoo on display, and you internally debate whether to take his panties off or not before spanking him, but in the end decide to leave them on. In a few minutes, you're glad you did, the intricate white lace looks delicious on his reddened tender flesh. and he moans sweetly when you slide your fingers under it to grope his sensitive ass. You turn him over, and he immediately spreads and lifts his legs, offering himself up, his bright eyes meeting yours, open and shameless.

You crawl on top of him until you’re sitting on his chest, and when you lean forward to tie up his hands, he giggles, completely unfazed, lifts his head to lick hungrily at the side of your cock. When you look down, he gleefully presents his open mouth to you. You slide your fingers into his hair, your knees around his head, and ram your cock deep inside his throat. Venti’s form was made by his own will and functions as he desires, and he has been a whore for several hundred years, so he doesn’t have a gag reflex at this point at all (unless you want him to gag. Which you do, sometimes. But not today)

You fuck his mouth brutally, hitting the back of his throat at every thrust, and he screams around your dick, writhes in ecstasy under you, his own cock bulging in his panties, pretty pink head peaking from under the lacy band. For a moment, you slow down, look down at him and he meets your eyes, his own green and sparkling with tears under the fluttering eyelashes. You gently run your fingers through his disheveled bangs, your other hand reaching to stroke him between his open legs. 

“You’re such a fucking slut, aren’t you,” you say quietly, not really a question, and he grins around your cock, shamelessly raises his hips to rut against your palm. You grip his hair harshly and bury yourself in his throat and he comes with a moan when you grope his dick. You come over his face and he opens his mouth wide, his pink tongue sticking out, trying to catch as much as he can.

After, he curls against you, lets you clean and hold him. He created his own body, so he can control it, make it resistant to weakness like this, but he likes it, feeling raw and tender after being used, he always liked bringing others joy, at least for a few moments, be it from his songs or his body. And when you whisper sweet praises for him, stroke his hair and back, hold him close, and just for now, it feels like even as he truly is, weak and sinful, not living up to the visage of the Nameless Bard, he can be good enough. 

Kazuha x Heizou

They are kneeling in front of you, naked and flushed, both of their mouths on your cock. Heizou throws you a mischievous glance, draws a long teasing lick from the base to the tip, and almost climbs on top of Kazuha’s lap, both of them already hard and pressed against each other. Kazuha doesn’t answer a provocation, focused on pleasuring you, his sweet mouth working on your tip. Heizou reaches the tip and leans into Kazuha aggressively. They kiss around your cock, whimpers muffled with their mouths full. 

You slide your hand into Heizou’s bangs and he follows your lead, lets Kazuha go, giving you his mouth with a string of saliva breaking between them. You fuck him, reaching deep in his throat, while Kazuha holds him, their arms intertwined. You then turn to Kazuha, fill him in until he chokes, his fingers digging into Heizou’s shoulders, who watches excitedly.

You start changing between them, slide through the swollen tender lips, their mouths open readily for you, cheeks pressed against each other, pink tongues sticking out sweetly, waiting for you to fuck them. They writhe against each other, Heizou is unashamedly humping Kazuha’s thigh, and even the usually collected samurai rutting against detective’s leg. 

Diluc x Thoma

Diluc watches you fuck Thoma’s mouth, intensely focused, frowning so that he looks almost severe. He lost his youth to trauma and hunting darkness, and now he feels insecure and inexperienced. He’s used to holding himself to the highest standards and not being perfect at something makes him feel worthless, no matter how many times you tell him otherwise. He is not jealous or bitter towards Thoma, though, he’s grateful to have his support and guidance, an example to follow instead of feeling completely lost. He wraps his arms around the blonde and studies hungrily how easily and deeply Thoma can take you into his mouth, how good he can work your cock, expertly twisting his head while bobbing up and down. 

When you turn to him and ask if you’d like to be next, he looks down, blushing, clears his throat and says in a controlled, flat voice that he’s sure you’ll have better time without him. 

You catch his chin and tilt it upward until he reluctantly meets your eyes.

“That’s bullshit. You’re doing so good for me. I want you, beautiful.”

He blushes harder, Diluc can blush in such a brilliant scarlet like no one else you’ve ever seen, and slowly, timidly opens his lips for you. You tell him “good boy” and slowly, carefully slide inside his mouth. Thoma holds the redheads’ hand and wraps another one around him, kisses the corner of his mouth, whispering reassurance. You thrust softly, gently, but Diluc frowns, stubbornly moves to take you in deeper himself and almost chokes at the attempt. You stop, let him get his bearings, while Thoma strokes his back, presses himself against him, tells him to relax. With some time and patience, you move again, deeper and deeper every time until you hit the back of his throat. He gags a little, but it passes quickly and both you and Thoma cover him in praises. You gently run your fingers down the side of his face, press your palm against his cheek, stretched with your cock buried inside his mouth, and meeting your eyes watching him in adoring hunger, in that moment he believes that he’s wanted, and doesn’t have to prove himself worthy and that he’ll be wanted even if he “fails” by his own expectations. He moans quietly, leans into you so trustingly as you’re not used from his ever guarded nature, and you can’t help it, slide out of him and lean down to kiss his swollen smiling lips. He coughs briefly, but then laughs, a choked, unfamiliar sound from him. Melting in embrace from you and Thoma, his bright red hair mixing with Thoma’s russet gold, he finally believes that he might be okay in the end. 

#just quick smut shorts nothing deep #was writing it in breaks from kaeya's depressing piece:) #rhine writes #rhine writes filth #genshin smut #sub genshin #sub venti #sub tighnari #sub heizou #sub kazuha #sub thoma #sub diluc #diluc #thoma #kazuha #venti #heizou #tighnari

[gold-rhine]

Sub! Xiao x GN Dom! Reader

Warnings: not sfw, fingering, obviously lingerie, praise kink, nipple play, edging, cockwarming, very slight degradation (like a single name calling), anal sex (cock stand for both dick and strap as usual)

A/N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. this is not “Xiao is a mewling mess from the get go”, though we get there, trust me, but there’s a tsundere character development arc first. I planned it as a quick lighthearted thing and it kinda got away from me. Modern AU? sort of??? Just to have texting.

Wordcount: 2,3k

You have to leave for a few days for the first time since you started dating Xiao, and you know already that it’s very hard for him to form connections, but when he does, the attachment is incredibly intense and important for someone as lonely and self-hating as he is. He’s predisposed to feel abandoned even if he’d never admit and he rationally knows it’s not true.

So you decide to make him a cute surprise gift, as both a distraction and a token of affection. At first, he doesn’t take it well AT ALL.

“What is this? Some sort of a joke? If so, I find your mortal sense of humor lacking once again.”

“I just think it would look cute on you, baby <3”

You know already that arguing with him or answering with sarcasm is both tiring and unproductive. He is perpetually looped in a cat’s paradox, just as cats, god’s perfect killing machines, adapted to be house pets and want to curl on human laps and be scratched behind the ears, Xiao, a stoic yaksha general, is trapped in a touch-starved body with an easy blush and a sensitive cock. It’s just that unlike cats, he has to go through twelve steps of denial and grief before accepting it.

“Cute? That is the most foolish thing I’ve ever heard. How disrespectful of you to suggest to an adeptus to wear this, let alone a yaksha like myself, a weapon drenched in tainted blood for a millenium.”

“I *KNOW* it will look cute on you, little bird. Send pics when you try it on!”

He doesn’t deign to answer because there’s no dignified way to type out “Hmpf.” The absolute gall of your suggestion does not even warrant a reply. He spends the entire day quietly fuming about how OBVIOUSLY it would NOT look cute on him. In the evening, he unpacks it just to spite you so you can’t return it. And also just to see for himself how absolutely STUPID this idea is.

And it is stupid! The lingerie is so ridiculous and uncomfortable. The white high thighs that are so idiotically hard to put on and leave an unreasonable gap of flesh between the flimsy panties, which are sitting low on hip bones, barely covering even soft cock, not to mention… And the transparent little top, clinging so obnoxiously that the peaks of the nipples are visible. And the tiny lacy choker is so useless, so extraneous, such an obvious waste!

Of course, he doesn’t tell you that he tried it on and he doesn’t take pics. He spends the night, tossing and turning under the covers, intrusive images of you looking at him dressed like that, hungrily, calling him pretty, sliding hands down his legs, almost rolling the tight stockings down, squeezing his crotch under a thin, silky layer of underwear while your lips are roaming over his arched neck, your finger hooked under his choker…

He doesn’t touch himself because he refuses to admit images like this could arouse him, so the next morning he’s restless, high strung, horny and unsatisfied after what was basically edging himself for the entire night, and so his judgment starts becoming cloudy, searching for the “acceptable” ways to fall to the temptation. The part of him that wants this, wants you to want him like this and praise him for looking like this, is getting more and more insistent, but he still can’t admit it to himself, and so he subconsciously commits a sleight of hand. SURELY, you wouldn’t actually think this looks good on him, and so if you see it, you’d realize what a foolish mistake you’ve made and the question would be closed forever, so he wouldn’t need to feel conflicted anymore. And so obviously, the solution is to send you a pic, but, you know. Not the great looking one (though it’s not like something like this could even theoretically look great on him, of course), and making sure it’s visible that he doesn’t care and is, in fact, disdainful of the idea, and is only doing this so you can regret even suggesting it.

So he spends quite a lot of time and effort on taking the most bored and low investment-looking selfies possible, sends a couple of them to you with “And this rubbish is what you find attractive?” comment, immediately regrets it, throws the phone down on the bed and is on the verge of trying to delete the pics, when you reply, ecstatic, telling him that yes, of course he looks incredibly hot like that. He answers “Then you have a bad taste,” throws the phone down again, blushing violently and already with a hard-on.

When you send encouraging praises, telling him to greet you like that when you come back, he refuses vehemently, but the sweet warmth pools deep in his belly and he can’t meet his own eyes in the mirror for the rest of the night. He’s used to thinking of himself as a weapon, built for battle first and foremost, with strength and mastery in a fight as his only valuable traits, and even your attraction to him he sees as a fortunate, but weird quirk of your character, an unusual preference. But the lingerie makes him feel pretty in a way that has nothing to do with strength, the idea of being seen as straightforwardly beautiful is so tempting, but clashes with his perception of self so radically that he cannot reconcile this easily.

He might have resisted the corruption for hundreds of years, but it only takes a couple of lonely nights for desire to break his resolve. So when you finally arrive and walk into the bedroom, he’s in lingerie, kneeling on the bed, looking away both from you and the reflection in the wall mirror on the side.

You drop your bags on the floor, walk up to him and kiss him, push him down on the bed, while he’s blushing and still refusing to meet your eyes. You catch his chin and force him to turn his head.

“Look at me, my pretty little bird.”

He does, his golden eyes unfocused and half-lidded over, and can’t look away anymore, as you ravish him from neck to stomach, cover him with kisses, on the exposed skin and through the silky fabric, while he’s squirming under you and watching, transfixed, feeling sweetly weak and precious like he didn’t know he could. You hold his gaze when you draw your lips from his prominent hipbones down, lick at the strip of skin over the band of panties while he takes the rugged breaths, and when you finally kiss his bulge through the thin lace, he shudders, melts under your touch and whines needily, even though his words are protesting.

“No, wait, I’m close…”

You move up to kiss him and give him a slight respite, but your hand slides down, moving the fabric of underwear away to lightly tease his hole, and he comes just from that, moaning against your mouth and arching with a shudder, his legs closing over your hand. You chuckle, keep massaging his pulsing entrance.

“You came just from that, huh? You really did miss me then.”

He blushes brightly and doesn’t look you in the eye, still tight and nervous like a virgin when you slide your fingers in, it’s like the first time no matter how often you fuck him until he’s screaming.

“Don’t worry, I won’t punish you for coming without permission. You’ve been so good, I can’t blame you for being excited to look so pretty for me.”

It shouldn’t be physically possible for him to blush even brighter, but he manages.

“I wasn’t… I’m not.”

There was always something endearing about the ridiculousness of his denials while he’s sprawled under you, being fingered, toes scraping at the bedsheets, but with time it turns exasperating. It’s easier for him to avoid confronting his own desires if he pretends this is just for you, so he hides in the passivity of submission, allowing you to do what you want to him so that he doesn’t have to admit how badly he wants it too.

“Oh, you’re not?” you ask with deceiving softness, turning him over and sliding into him with your cock\strap. “Not even a little bit?” your tone turns teasing as he groans in desire, but you don’t fuck him, instead, you pull him up to settle in your lap, his back against your chest, your cock buried deep inside him. His hips buckle against yours, but you grip his thigh to still him with one hand and catch his chin and force him to look in the mirror with the other.

“Oh no, dear, you’re not getting it until you admit you want it,” you whisper into his ear, meeting his agitated golden eyes in the mirror. “Until you admit you like looking like this too..”

He bites his lip, glancing over his own reflection, he looks ravished and debauched, bright blush, lingerie pieces sitting askew, thighs in lacy stockings trembling open, cock getting hard again, it’s outline visible under the panties, still damp from him coming just now.

“Does it feel good, baby?” you ask quietly, trailing sloppy hot kisses down his neck. His eyes are lidding over, long black eyelashes trembling and he answers, a barely audible “Yes…”

“Good boy,” you kiss him in encouragement. ”See, it isn’t hard to tell the truth, is it?” you slide your hand under the flimsy layer of his top, thumb at his nipples. He grunts, his head rolling helplessly back to your shoulder, his legs spreading even wider open. You play with the sensitive pink buds until he’s squirming in your lap, arching against you so that your dick inside him is bulging slightly through his stomach and the swollen head of his own pretty cock is peeking from under his little panties and leaking on the lace. “And don’t you want more?”

“Yes…” he lets out with a shudder, both being horrified at what he sees in the mirror and not being able to look away, torn between the life-long belief this isn’t for him and an undeniable, sharp pleasure, a humiliating, shameful weakness that feels so good, so sweetly intoxicating.

“How could you even try to pretend, when you’re undone before I even touched your pretty cock?” you chuckle and press your palm against his crotch. He whines, clenching around your cock, ruts helplessly against your hand, losing the last shreds of control.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking hot like this. I’ll fuck you so good and hard right now, just ask.”

He arches in your lap, presses his head against yours, his mouth half-open, his hot and rugged breaths on your lips while his heart is racing in his chest.

“Please,” he whispers, low, choked, feverish like gasping for air while drowning. “Please, I can’t take it anymore, please…”

You kiss him, then throw him down on the bed and ram into him. He screams and keeps screaming while you fuck him, hard and fast, gripping his hips covered in lace, telling him how good he looks until his screams turn into shuddering, breathless whines. You grip black hair at the back of his head and pull him up again, force him to look up. He lost control and composure completely at this point, red eyeliner running at the corners of half-lidded glittering eyes, ruffled green-black hair, mouth falling slack open and trying to catch air.

“You love this, don’t you?” you slide your free hand down his arched body, ride up the transparent top, run fingers over the bulge in his belly and down to the open, shaking thighs, and this time he doesn’t hesitate to answer, too far gone to care.

“Yes!”

“You like being a pretty slut for me?” You kiss him and grope his throbbing cock as he’s bucking his hips against you, trying desperately to fuck himself.

“Yes!”

“Then come for me, baby, like a good little whore.”

He comes writhing in your arms, his hand gripping at your wrist where you hold his hip, and you fuck him through it, whispering praises and kissing the back of his neck. When he calms down and you slide out, move to take now ruined pieces of the lingerie of him, he at first tries to protest and do everything himself, as usual, but when you insist, gives up surprisingly easily, lets you slide it off him and then gently wipe him with a warm damp cloth, while he’s laying on the pillows, blushing and limp-limbed. He feels raw and tender all over, but in a good way, and when you pull the covers over him, their touch feels somehow overwhelming in their softness against his naked skin.

He curls against you in the nest of tangled blankets, warm and tired, feeling at the same time extremely vulnerable and hidden from the whole world.

“Sorry for ruining the lingerie,” he says quietly and you laugh.

“Oh, it’s nothing, it was absolutely worth it, baby.”

“Was it?” you can feel his cheek heating up when he blushes, but his voice is  anxious.“I’m far from suitable for such things, so…”

“Hush. You are the prettiest thing I’ve laid my eyes on, you’ve looked stunning in this, and I cannot wait to get you ten new sets.”

“Hmfp. Then you are truly delusional,” he says fondly and rubs his cheek against your shoulder. That night, Xiao lays there quietly in a circle of your arms, and despite being exhausted, resists falling asleep for as long as he can, basking in a feeling of, for once instead of an expendable weapon, being cherished and protected himself.

#rhine writes filth #rhine writes #sub genshin #sub xiao #genshin smut #xiao

[gold-rhine]

sub! Albedo x Dom! GN! Reader

Warnings: not sfw, edging, first time, fingering, anal sex, long dialogs discussing metaphysics of human connection. Cock stands for cock\strap as usual.

A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. very soft, almost didn’t want to tag as as dom! reader, but the dynamic is specifically pronounced. but give it a try even if you’re just into bottom Albedo.

Wordcount: 3k

Albedo might seem like cold and disaffected, but that’s mostly Neurodivergency (TM)

He’s extremely introverted and demi, he’s usually not interested in people at all and so comes off as curt and rude

But rarely, if he does form a connection, he very much quietly and intensely hyperfixates on it

“I used to think interaction with others was a waste of time. But after meeting you, I'd rather spend my time on you than other matters.”

As you can tell from the quote and his general interaction with the traveler, he’s pretty open about his interest. Albedo has a mix of very quiet, shy social awkwardness in some situations, and almost clinically shameless directness in others.

He’s lonely, but he wants very specifically someone who can see and understand him for what he is without flinching, and the people for whom the nature of his artificial creation would not change their demeanor towards him is who he tends to latch on.

While normally very precise and methodical, he can throw logic and principles out of the window when it comes to the person he really likes.

Like remember the last dragonspine event where he turned into an absolute spineless mush in order to fix traveler's ugly doodle without actually admitting that it's ugly.

They even specifically spelled out his thoughts to show that he does think it's ugly, while he's muttering out loud "no, its uh great, i mean i can maybe add a few embellishments if you would like me too".

He becomes clingy, but in an extremely introverted way. He would not initiate contact, but he’d aggressively, though in a very roundabout-way hint that he would like your presence (his story quests, esp the last scene of the latest dragonspine event)

And when you do choose to spend time with him, he’s very open about how he doesn’t really care what you do, as long as you’re together, and that he would like to prolong that time.

He’s also very straightforward about letting you decide and following the lead after he’s already realized he’s into you

“Would you like to have a chat with me?

Albedo: Certainly. Uh... I will let you decide the topic of our conversation.”

(again, the fucking second-hand embarrassment horror of the last dragospine event’s painting lesson)

“Heh, where should I begin...? In your company, I never lack inspiration”

“By the way, after we're done. may I have the pleasure of inviting you to dessert with me? To continue our time together, and to thank you for your company.”

Albedo is not an easy, quick fun type, he's a long time, deep investment only. But in return, he’s very curious and open to experiments, doesn’t have any societal prejudices, very accepting of other ppl’s oddities, artistic, deep-feeling, imaginative, with a quiet, but intense need for acceptance and praise.

He obviously won’t be loud and expressive, but if he’s your type, effort spent on him can be very rewarding, he is the case where you can give the lightest touch and see it ripple through him like a hurricane.

It happens on a seemingly normal evening while you two are drinking tea with desserts in your room. Albedo tells you about his latest research project, or, if more precisely, about how Cyrus from the Adventurers Guild keeps interrupting it with his inane training activities on Dragonspine. For someone who doesn’t know him, he’d sound just politely dry, but you can read sarcastic exasperation in his tone, so you laugh and sympathetically pat his arm. It’s a fairly innocuous gesture, but he suddenly freezes. You immediately take your hand away and apologize, remembering that he isn’t a very physical person, but he shakes his head, says that it’s okay. But when he tries to get back to his story, he’s clearly distracted and still thrown off balance, so you try to clear the air by promising to not do it again.

“No, I’m not displeased. On the contrary,” he says, throwing you an inquisitive glance askew. “It’s a somewhat interesting development on a… matter that’s been perplexing me for some time.”

“Huh? And what is this matter?” you ask, grinning, and are surprised to see Albedo, who is usually very straightforward even with the most direct questions when his curiosity is peaked, frown hesitantly.

“Well, it… depends. Do you see me strictly in… ah, platonic capacity? Because in that case, I would prefer to not endanger our friendship and move on from the subject.”

“Oh?” you smirk, raising an eyebrow and watch his pale sculpted cheeks color slightly as he avoids your gaze. “No, I’d be interested in your other… capacities.”

“Well, in that case I think it’s fairly obvious that I’m attracted to you.”

“I wouldn’t call it fairly obvious, but do go on.”

“The attraction itself does not surprise me, of course. What I find perplexing is how disproportionately strongly my body reacts. If you’re not averse to the idea of physical interaction, I would like to see what direct skin to skin contact would feel like.”

You look over him, a slight blush on his cheeks, but bright blue eyes watching you intensely, and grin.

“Anything for science, my prince.”

He nods seriously, starts unbuckling the clasps on the elbow-long glove on his right hand, but you don’t wait for him to finish, slide your fingers into the gap on his thigh between his high boots and shorts. He startles, almost jumping up, looks at you with wide opened eyes like a deer in headlights, and you lean in and kiss him. He makes a tiny surprised noise, but answers, a little awkwardly, leans into you.

When you move away, he sits there in stunned silence, blushing, one glove half-taken off, and shorts-pant rolled up, really looking like a prince who tries to find an etiquette- appropriate response to being ravished.

“Are you okay?” you ask softly.

“Yes. But I feel a little dizzy, I’m not sure why.”

You smirk.

“It’s probably a sudden redirect of a bloodflow.”

He looks down at his crotch, blushes brighter, but says calmly.

“Oh. That makes sense, I suppose.”

“I guess this makes an experiment a success, huh?” “Do you want to go on?”

“Yes,” he says without hesitation. “But I would like to have some time to prepare.”

You think that this “time to prepare” is just to mentally catch his breath, but when you walk back into the room after some time, you find him by the bed, completely naked, clothes folded neatly on the nearby chair.

You walk up to him slowly, smile, not wanting to spook him.

“Hey, are you sure you’re not moving too fast?”

“Do not patronize me,” he says firmly, narrowing his eyes. “I am more than 400 hundred years old, I know biology, I know how sex works. The process itself is not complicated at all, it’s simply a matter of stimulating the appropriate organs and zones.”

“Oh, such a romantic,” you smirk, moving to stand close to him, and he looks at you sternly, an interesting contrast to his stark naked body.

“I didn’t involve other people because it seemed too much of a hussle to satisfy basic needs of the body when I can do it myself.”

“Then why make an effort now?”

“Because…” he pauses, looks away briefly and continues more slowly, measurely. “Of the inappropriate reaction of my body to your touch. And because when I touched myself imagining you it felt much better than when I did without thinking of you.”

You raise your eyebrows at his admission, but he goes on, his voice frustrated.

“It makes no sense! It was the same hand and the same gesture, and yet it felt so much stronger. Why? The same stimulation should produce the same results, but it didn’t. And now your touch, even over the gloved hand, which should not even be a desired zone for stimulation, feels that much intense!”

You can’t keep away for longer, lean down, catching his mouth in a kiss. He moans, leans against you, his naked slender body trembling, arching when you run your hands down his spine, his cock already getting hard against your thigh. You push him down on the bed and he lets you, looks up at you with hazy, wide open blue eyes, wet lips half open, pink tongue showing, cheeks blushing, and he’s trying to hide his hard dick behind the half-closed pulled up knees. For a moment you’re tempted to take him right there, spread his legs and ram into him roughly, until he screams and loses his senses.

But it’s much more fun to play with him slowly, so you prop yourself on the bed next to him, catch his cheek in your hand, looking down at him with a smile.

“You have a theory on why, surely.”

He blinks a few times, swallows harshly and licks his lips, trying to stay in control..

“Yes, but I’m not sure I should say it right now. I wouldn’t want to ruin the mood.”

“The mood we started with was experimental biology, I don’t know how you can ruin that,” you smirk, but as he still looks anxious, soften your voice. “Baby, if I didn’t want someone weirdly over-analytical, I wouldn’t go after you at all, don’t worry, you can talk.”

“Well, it’s not directly correlated, but I think it works on similar principles. See, there’s a difference between just a rendering of something, no matter how accurate, and art including the same object. In fact, an art piece does not have to be accurate at all. I’ve struggled to identify it, but it is undeniable once you feel it. You may call it an inspiration in art, but it’s also that ephemeral and unspoken thing that separates home from the house, an acquaintance from friend, a string of words from poetry.”

“Oh, you *are* a romantic, huh,” you smile and stroke his cheek. He makes a small noise and leans into your palm. You run your fingers slowly, lightly down his neck, over the curve of his collarbones to the beating pulse in the delicate hollow of his throat, and he shivers, arches under your touch, his breath catching. His body, pristine, touch-starved, reacts so strongly to the smallest stimulation, but even as affected as he is, he still watches you sharply.

“Do you enjoy it, seeing the power you have over me now, how disproportionately I can’t help, but react?”

“Of course. It makes playing with you so delicious. Don’t you like it?” you slide your hand down his chest, thumb at the tender pink peak of the nipple and watch him squirm, his cock twitches against his belly and starts to leak.

“It's complicated,” he says quietly, pressing his head against your shoulder. “I enjoy the sensations, I feel excited and anxious about what’s to come, but I’m also acutely afraid to disappoint.”

“Don’t worry, baby.” you draw your hand down over his ribs, tensed up stomach, stroke teasingly at the lovely hipbones instead of finally touching his pulsing dick. He’s just such a fun, responsive canvas to explore. “You can’t disappoint.”

“Of course I can,” he says incredulously, but then you slide your free hand into his fluffy, soft  hair, grip at the flaxen blond locks and pull, making him arch his throat with a helpless whine. You kiss the golden diamond on his neck and feel him tremble and swallow harshly under your lips.

“This mark is not more sensitive than the rest of my skin, and yet when I know you caress my imperfection, it wrecks me,” he’s shaking in your arms, and yet his voice is calm, almost distant.

“Albedo, baby, the absolute most of humans would not look at this mark and think of it as “imperfection.” They would just think it’s cute.”

“Is it a sign of how deep my differences run then if it feels important to me?”

“Being anxious about perceived flaws that no one else cares about is the most human thing imaginable,” you answer softly and he chuckles, leans against you.

“I can’t argue with that, I’ve seen it too often. I suppose there’s no such thing as perfection for a human.”

“No, there is.”

He watches you with a raised eyebrow, and you grin, lean down, finally covering his cock with your hand, catch a tiny, strangled sigh from his parted lips.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it. I’ll make sure of that.”

You stroke him slowly, trying to prolong the pleasure, but he was too understimulated for far too long, too high-strung, he throws his arms around your shoulders, his hips rocking into your hand involuntarily, eyelashes fluttering over the glazed over eyes, and he comes with a short breezy moan.

You kiss him lightly, stroke him through it until his body relaxes under you, frantic breath slowing down.

“Are you okay, little prince?”

He opens his eyes, and you can see him coming to his senses, the focus coming back into his gaze like a bright sharp edge of a scalpel.

“Yes. A little dizzy, but I’m fine. You can go on.”

“Are you sure you’re not too overwhelmed?”

His fingers dig into your shoulders just a little deeper.

“No. And I think I’m forming a theory.”

“Oh? I have to hear this,” you smirk, slide your hand between his legs to circle at his entrance.

“At first, I thought interaction with others was a waste of time, but now I realize I was wrong. Art can’t be created without inspiration, and inspiration has to come from interaction with the outside world,” he whispers, quietly, but with conviction. When you slide your fingers inside him, he presses his cheek against yours, his quick breaths damp and hot against your skin, his disheveled soft hair tickling at your temple. “A transformation can only be achieved through a reaction with a new reagent, and so the same with humans, a person can only change through the experiences obtained.”

You bury your fingers deeper, scissor and massage his walls until he opens up, his hips bucking up and cock getting hard again.

“See, baby, but if that reagent reacts like a human, then what does the origin of it matter?”

He looks up at you with a small, surprised smile, the sweetest and shiest you’ve ever seen on him, despite his trembling nakedness under you, the shameless spread of his legs, your fingers fucking into him and his pretty swollen dick twitching on his belly.

“You really think so?”

“Of course, my prince.”

He arches to press an awkward, fervent kiss against your lips and moans when you slide your tongue against his.

“Please,” he whines when you break up to catch the air. “I need to feel this, please…”

You take your fingers out and slide your cock\strap into him, pressing into him slowly, giving him time to adjust, but even so, he feels so full. He moans, throws his arms over his head to grip at the bedsheets. When you start fucking him, it feels so good, but also like too much, like his body is too small to contain it, and so he instinctively tries to let out the excess of energy, the crystalline flower blooming under his fingers. But it’s not his usual, perfectly structured symmetrical construct, the delicate amber petals sprout wildly, disproportionately at all sides, shutter and form again like waves with every thrust. Soon the pulsing gold flower is covering the rest of the room with a helplessly writhing form of Albedo in the center, and the outside layers start losing the definition, turn into flickering white wings of the crystalflies. He shudders with each movement, small, breathless “oh-oh-oh…” escaping his half-bitten lips, but he never takes his eyes off you, the bright aquamarine of the high, cloudless noon of the Dragonspine skies, sharp glow reflected off the untouched snow and the deep-glimmering ice.

“I can’t take it anymore,” he whispers weakly, barely audible, while the gold and white pulse of his flowers throw the flashing reflections on his body. “It’s too much, maybe I was never meant… to feel…”

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” you lean down, press the gentlest kiss to the corner of his open mouth, while fucking harshly into him, and he watches you hepleslly, intently. “You’re so beautiful and you’re doing so good for me. Just let go.”

He sees the way you look at him, the way you touch him, and finally he gets it, his body overripe, tension rippling on the cusp of revelation. When does a human feel perfect? Oh, but when someone sees them as such.

He arches in your arms and comes with a chocked scream, crystalized petals blooming all at once around you, and just for an endless moment, the chalk under his skin turns into gold.

#rhine writes filth #rhine writes #sub albedo #sub genshin #genshin smut #albedo #dom reader

[gold-rhine]

Sub! Heizou x GN Dom! Reader

A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned.

Warnings: nsfw, overstim, slight degradation, spanking, leash play, anal sex, cock stands for strap\cock as usual.

Wordcount: 3k

I don’t think there needs to be a lot of analysis to justify Heizou being a sub, it’s fairly intentionally in your face in both hangout and ahem, birthday “yawning” art, because that’s the most most obvious bottom “O-face” since Gorou’s “moaning and tearing up over the bowl of onions” emoji.

Like in two endings he straight up says out loud his confidence is partly a facade and he’d really love for someone else to sometimes step up and take the charge, but no one does bc ppl think he’s too smart.

”Haha, well, as you might see, I’m a little less confident than people might think.”

“And everyone around me thinks I’m so smart that I should be able to handle every case on my own.<...> But you’re different. Unlike them, you don’t have that kind of prejudice towards me. <...> So I’d like you to decide whether we should expose the truth or not.”

He’s not a pushover and he’s not a pillow princess-y type, but he’s also not a brat. He’ll encourage you to take the lead and won’t criticize your choices, but he will *evaluate them*.

First of all, on how well you’re keeping up with his hyperactive ADHD goblin nature, and second, he’ll leave the unspoken puzzle and see if you’ll manage to figure it out.

He’s open for experimentation and fairly shameless, but how far he’ll go pretty much depends on if he judges you competent enough for this.

Like, meeting him in the hangout starts with him openly calling Traveler “so dreamy”, and then he lets the Traveler decide what course of action to take, but only divulges hidden information after the Traveler showed that they have a deeper understanding of a situation and connected several puzzle dots themselves.

His inner conflict is when it’s immoral or not to withhold information and does it depend on how capable a person given this information is. The law does not really factor into this, Heizou will act on his own principles instead.

Like in the hangout case he only tells the Traveler that he will follow their choice (see above) after the Traveler presents him with the evidence and proves they have sound judgment.

So he’d *LIKE* to let someone else make decisions, but he wants to make sure that someone else is qualified. So he won’t like outright lie, but he will withhold context if you don’t show him that you get it.

Then he can get quite clingy, like telling Traveler that he’d love to have them as a partner all the time, haha he’s joking, he wouldn’t want to be so greedy…UNLESS???

In a situation where he does trust the other person’s competence, he likes to feel helpless, overpowered and needy, if you indulge him in it. His ideal situation is where you understand that he’s smart and capable himself and he doesn’t strictly need you to take charge, but would enjoy it.

He wants to have fun without anyone making it too weird, and he wants to know you have a clear head on your shoulders, that’s it.

One day while you’re walking down the street near your home, a group of obvious miscreants runs by and a young man in white shirt and brown shorts follows them. The last of ruffians shoves him while they’re running past you and you catch him to stop him from hitting a corner of a house with his head. When the bandit looks back, you instinctively shield a man in your arms with your shoulder, and the bandit obviously judges it not worth the trouble, runs away.

When you look at the man you’re holding, he’s looking up at you with a wide smile, bright green eyes twinkling.

“Oh, thank you, my savior!”

“I didn’t do anything,” you say, putting him upright. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure, I’m fine!” he suddenly pauses, looks you over and says in a weaker tone, leaning into you. “I mean, I’m a little not fine, nothing major, but perhaps if someone could look after me for just a little bit?...”

You take him to get coffee just to keep an eye on him and end up talking for hours. His name is Heizou, he’s flirty, fun and cute, has ruffled mauve hair and little twin moles under his eyes, asks more questions than he’d like to answer about himself, wears a choker and a shirt that leaves his sides bare, and would very obviously love to get dommed from how he talks to you. But you cannot in good conscience take advantage of him now, because his eagerness might be an effect from the shock, so you let him go.

Day later you talk with a neighbor and he mentions how the young detective who from his words meets Heizou’s description just caught a group of pickpockets.

“Detective, huh?” you ask out loud, and some things that didn’t make sense before fall into place. Like an exaggerated weak affect and how eagerly he pushed himself on you.

Couple of days after you walk into a confrontation in one of the secluded courtyards on the way to your home. There’s Heizou and opposite of him a group headed by the large white-haired oni. It looks incredibly awkward and staged.

“Oh, it’s my savior again!” Heizou says coquettishly, smiling at you. “Hello there! It seems you’re just in time to save me once again.”

“From what?” you say calmly, crossing your arms.

“From being mugged, of course.”

“So these guys need to be arrested, huh?”

A tall oni starts shifting nervously, looking back and forth from you to Heizou.

“Hey, hey, we didn’t agree on…”

A green-haired woman elbows him and he stumbles.

“I mean, you can’t arrest us, we’re big bad bandits, rawr!”

You ignore him, looking Heizou straight in the eyes. He pauses for a second, then pretends to be fainting in your direction. You catch him, rolling your eyes. Green-haired woman punches the oni in his side and they run away with the entire group.

“Oh, thank you,” Heizou says, looking artistically disheveled in your arms.

“No problem, Detective,” you say coldly and he tenses, straightens up.

“So you know…”

“Yeah. And I don’t appreciate being played for a fool.”

“Listen, it’s not like that… It’s just that I... I wanted you to treat me like a sub, but you didn’t do anything after we first met, and I thought maybe if you see me in an even weaker state...”

“I didn’t do anything because you seemed too irrational from shock. If you just told me the truth that you’re detective and were fine, you’d be spread on my bed few nights ago.“

He blushes, but his green eyes light up.

“I would? Oh, I mean, I am fine and we cleared the misunderstandings, so?... Um? About spreading?“

You shake your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Only come to me if you’re ready to drop your bullshit. I’m sure you can figure out how to find me, Detective.“

“Hey there!” he’s bouncing on your threshold a day after with the widest obnoxious smile, and you wouldn’t see the tinge of nervousness under it if you weren't paying attention. “So you said I can come if I dropped the bullshit and um, you can pat me over, including cavity search if you want, to make sure I haven’t got any on me”

You roll your eyes, hooking your fingers under his choker, pull him close and kiss him. He stumbles for a second, but then melts, throws his arms around your neck and presses against you. You can feel him getting hard as you pull him towards the bedroom and then throw him roughly onto the bed. He looks up, his green eyes sparkling in delight.

“Cavity search?” you say incredulously, crawling over him to slide your hands under his shirt and pulling off both of his layers. “That was terrible.”

“I know, I know, I panicked,” he moves his arms to help you get the shirt off, then pulls frantically at the ties of the armguards. “I was going to say you have a search warrant, but somehow it turned into a cavity search.”

“You’re lucky you’re so cute,” you grin against his cheek and pull his pants and underwear off in one smooth motion. He gasps, and when you grab his ankles and forcefully spread his legs, he blushes but looks you straight in the eye, already fully hard and breathless in excitement.

“I am? I mean, of course I am, but do tell me more about it.”

You kiss him instead, roam your hands over his slender body, and he arches under you, moans against your mouth. You slide your hand down, close it over hard, twitching cock and he whines, bucks his hips against your palm.

“Oh yeah,” he whispers feverishly. “Yes... Don’t be afraid to treat me rough…”

“Oh trust me, I won’t,” you grope his leaking cock and balls in your hand, firmly like you own them, and he whines sweetly, looking up at you with excitement in half-narrowed eyes. When you slide your hand down and circle his entrance, he comes immediately, pressing himself against you.

You chuckle, kissing him.

“In my defense, I spent some long nights imagining you touching me, so I’m not taking criticisms on how quick I came,“ he mutters, squirming under you, cheeks blushing brightly.

You grin and stand up, moving away.

“Well, you’re not getting away that easily, kitten. I’ll be back shortly.“

When you walk back to the bed, he has finished taking off the last piece of the guard and is waiting for you, naked except for the elbow-high fishnet gloves and a choker.

“I have something that I think you would like,” you smirk, showing him a leash and he gasps, visibly lighting up.

“Have you thought about becoming a detective yourself? That’s spot on.”

“It wasn’t a very hard deduction to make,” you hook your fingers under his choker, lifting him up, and he follows, grinning under the bitten lip. He’s so lovely in how blushing and eager he is while you’re closing the leash on his neck, looking up at you from under the ruffled bangs.

You turn him around, so that he leans against the bedrest and he giggles, settling down on his knees.

“Oh, great, I wasn’t sure how to breach the subject of… consequences of being naughty.”

“You don’t try playing hard to get, do you?” you grin, slide your hand from his intentionally arched back to caress smooth skin of the perky ass, obviously and eagerly presented for you.

“No, why, would you want me to?” he shoots you a sharp glance over the shoulder, analytical even now.

“No,” you say pleasantly and slap his ass, hard. He gasps, shudders, but arches even more, presses quickly reddening, tender flesh harder against your hand. You spread him and run your fingers between his legs.“I like it when you’re being open.”

“I don’t see the point in denying the obvious,” he says, still sounding mostly collected, if a little breathless in excitement. “And if I don’t show what I want, how will I get it?”

You strike his ass again, several times in a row, until it’s blooming red and he’s whining quiet and sweet, then you stroke it.

“Very logical of you,” you say, squeezing his sensitive ass while he’s squirming needily under your hands, and kiss the sharp curve of his shoulder, move his ruffled hair aside and get to his neck. “Unlike the stunt you tried to pull earlier.”

“Oh well, I miscalculated,” he says airly. “And it’s not as if I was trying to deceive you, it’s that I know that once people hear who I am they misjudge… the way I’d want to be treated. So I just wanted to make sure you get the right impression.”

You tug on the leash, pulling him close, his back against your chest. He gasps, arches his back and rubs his ass against you.

“Or you could’ve just said so honestly, you dumbass,” you run your hand over his chest down, close it over his cock and kiss him, still tugging on the leash. He kisses you back, eager and a little sloppy, rocks his hips, rutting against your palm.

“Well, taking your advice on speaking openly,” he whispers breathlessly after breaking a kiss, his eyelashes fluttering against your cheek. “I’m close again and I want to come from you fucking me.”

“Good boy.”

You pull him into your lap, over the strap\cock, and he squirms, straddling your knees. You catch his chin, while he’s lowering himself over onto the head of your cock, make him meet your eyes, his own hazy green, cheeks bright in blush, pink lips half-open and taking short feverish breaths. You put your hands on his hips and push him all the way down until you’re fully buried in him, and he moans, shuddering and arching in your arms.

“Ah! Oh yes, yeah, like that, oh fuck…”

He rides you, his hips moving rhythmically and his hard cock bouncing against his stomach, but when you close your hand over it, he whines, digs his fingers into your shoulders.

“Please, no, I’ll come too soon if you touch me…”

You let him go and chuckle, pepper kisses over his neck, chest, lick over his pink hardened nipple, while he’s whimpering pleas and fucking himself on your cock.

“You’re really such a slut, aren’t you?”

“Yes, fuck, I love it, I love how your cock feels inside of me, please…”

You tug on his leash, making him arch, suck on the tender juncture between his shoulder and neck. He comes just like that, screaming, his movements turning frantic. You push him down on his back, roll over him without taking your cock out.

“Can you take any more, kitten?”

“Yes.. yes, please keep fucking me,” he’s trembling under you, but says this firmly, looks you in the eye without hesitation, his ass clenching around you. “Use me like I’m your toy…”

You lift his legs up, pressing his knees against his chest, exposing his ass and thighs, still pink from spanking. You can see his oversensitive red cock getting hard just from being spread and exposed like that, and when you thrust deeply into him, he screams and tries to lift himself off the bed, writhing under you. You grip his hips and fuck him hard, hitting his prostate, until his mouth is going slack and his eyes roll over, his pleas turn into incoherent moans and whimpers.

You lean down, cock buried deep inside him, kiss the corner of his mouth. He whines, his arms tightening around your shoulders and his hips rolling to take you even deeper.  

“You've been very good, kitten,” you whisper against his parted lips, his green eyes glittering with held tears. “Come for me, baby.”

He comes after a few thrusts, clutching at you, and you fuck him through it until he goes limp. Then you slide out of him, let him curl against you, his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath. You hold him and gently stroke his hair until he stops shivering, giving him time to come to senses before you’ll move to clean up.

“How fast will you want me to leave?” he asks, quietly, but his voice is firm, neutral. “I know I can be annoying in large doses, so if you need me to get out, I can…”

You silence him with a kiss, slow and sweet to calm him down. “It’s okay, kitten, you don’t annoy me. Don’t worry about it, just rest.”

He freezes for a second and then suddenly presses himself desperately against you, clutches at your shoulders. You stroke his hair, neck, sharp knobs of his spine soothingly, whisper sweet nothings in his ear until his body relaxes. He rubs his cheek against your chest and looks up with a cheeky grin.

“I am lucky that I’m cute, huh?”

#rhine writes filth #rhine writes #sub genshin #genshin smut #sub heizou #heizou #dom reader #sub character

[gold-rhine]

Morax & Guizhong, first meeting.

He would always remember how they met in the fields of glaze lilies, where she made a PowerPoint presentation on why they should work together and insinuated that he’s kind of dumb.

Warnings: none, safe for view, can be read as platonic or a bit shippy.

A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. I wrote this as a part of another fic, but in the end it didn’t fit the structure, so I’m posting this as standalone bc I like how it turned out. I hate that “Memory of Dust” is described as “dumbbell” in English when it’s obviously a puzzle, but I had to roll with it. Guizhong basically has nano-particles powers bc I think it’s fun.

Wordcount: 2,5k

Guizhong clasped her hands together, hiding them in her long sleeves. She tended to get jittery when nervous and it was no time for that.

“Lord Morax,” she said solemnly, watching him from across the field. He looked both as she imagined him and the complete opposite at once. He radiated power and confidence, but wasn’t huge or bulky as she expected. Of course, a god didn’t need muscles to fight, but from his reputation as a reckless, brutal fighter she thought he’d want to take a form boasting of warrior prowess. After all, the god of rock just kind of implied a mountain of a man. But he was very tall and sort of narrow, without any warrior regalia, intense gold eyes with red paint under them and long black hair, turning to burnt amber at the ends. She remembered that he was a dragon and perhaps this slim and sharp build made sense for someone used to a snake-like body. “I offer you my greetings. You probably don’t know who I am, so allow me to introduce myself, I’m…”

“I’ve heard of you,” he had a deep, calm voice and watched her with polite indifference. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Lady Guizhong?”

Okay, but how should she start? She had a list of arguments in defense of her offer that she thoroughly prepared, but she hasn’t thought of the openings. To be honest, she expected a loud warlord, not someone this taciturn and serious.

“I would like to propose an alliance,” no sense in dragging this out.

He looked at her for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“You are known as a wise and kind-hearted goddess. I would welcome you in my court.”

His expression barely changed. As she expected, with his reputation as a conqueror who never knew defeat and a fair ruler, he was used to people pledging their allegiance and accepted it as a given.

She took a deep breath and tried to sound calm and confident, though her palms were sweating inside of her sleeves.

“No. I will not join you as a follower, only as an equal.”

That finally got his attention. He blinked in surprise, then folded his arms, gold eyes focusing on her.

“And why would I want to share my power with you?” he raised an eyebrow, but his voice stayed calm, with just barely noticeable undercurrent of irony.

“I’m glad you asked,” she smiled and dragged the basket full of scrolls out of the lilies at her feet. Both of his eyebrows disappeared under the disheveled black bangs. “I’ve prepared a list of arguments. Though, I imagine, as a priority you’d like to know why you should take me seriously on the battlefield. Well, let’s get this unpleasant topic out of the way first,” she sighed and waved her hand at him. “Please make one of your stone spears.”

He watched her with taciturn amusement, head cocked to the side, then smirked sharply and made a brisk motion with his hand. A rock spear twice her height smashed into the ground precisely at her feet, not touching, but close enough that the basket next to her shuddered. Guizhong flinched, but stopped herself from stepping back and threw him a glare.

He wasn’t taking her seriously yet, but was willing to indulge her just to see where this is going, which was good enough for now. She had some aces up her sleeve.

She took a deep breath and focused on the spear in front of her. Rocks crumble into dust because they were always made of it, every stone is actually a collection of dust particles, densely packed together. And so, she knew how to call the dust within the rock to her will. It was the easiest with natural mountains, which already were weathered by time and ready to turn to dust without much resistance.

Stones created by Morax were different. They were unusually solid, called into existence by the power of a deity and so appeared wholesale, without internal fractures or inconsistencies, unlike stones that formed naturally. But she thought of it, visited the battlefields to study his spears and learned to call the dust in them too.  

It wasn’t working now though. Spears on the battlefields were weeks, sometimes months old, they had time to be corrupted by wind and rains. This one was just created, and so was flawless, without any cracks for her to exploit.

Guizhong gritted her teeth, her fists clenching hard enough that her nails left the marks on her palms. She couldn’t fail right now, couldn’t show herself as a fool when so much was riding on this. She searched frantically for the smallest flaw to get in and unravel it, until the picture snapped into view, like an optical illusion finally coming into focus. It was a perfectly structured grid with no points of failure, but it was still a grid of dust. She didn’t need a fracture to claim it and had never needed it.

She smiled and extended her hand, meeting his gold eyes.

“Every rock turns to dust,” she snapped her fingers and the top of the spear started softly crumbling. “And I can always take what is mine.”

Morax visibly tensed up, now actually taken aback, then turned back to her, no longer looking amused. She smiled wider in triumph, while the spear was still turning to dust from the top down.

“I don’t have delusions of grandeur, I realize that I don’t have the firepower to take you on by myself. I mean, I do have a knack for war machines, so maybe with an ambush and the right strategy… No, but realistically, I’d make an alliance with someone else, who could strike hard enough when I crumble your defenses.”

“That’s a very convincing point,” his voice was flat, but eyes much colder than before. “Now explain to me why I should let you leave alive.”

“I don’t actually want to bring you down, I just thought as a warrior, you won’t take me seriously unless you believe I can be a threat. I’m not trying to blackmail you into an alliance.”

“Thrilled to hear,” he said dryly, still eyeing her incredulously. “What are you trying to do, then?”

Perhaps she miscalculated. She proceeded on the assumption that he would value combat strength above all and didn’t adjust her plans even though nothing in his actual appearance and conduct supported it. Now she had to tread lightly.

“I have much resourcefulness to offer,” she clasped her hands again and forced herself to speak slowly and choose her words carefully, keeping her tone neutral. ”You see, humans are as small and fragile as dust. Because they are so small, they know not when they will lose their lives to disaster or strife, and so they are afraid. Because they are afraid, they try so hard to become more intelligent. This I understand. So I thought that since there is such a gulf between us in strength, I should use technique and wisdom instead. With your brawn and my brains, this city would surely become a great one."

He let her speak with the same guarded expression, then looked away for a moment, and when he met her gaze again there was tension around his eyes she wasn’t sure how to interpret.

“My brawn? Is that why you sought after me, for military strength?”

To keep her people safe, she often had to deal with gods stronger than herself and in all of her experience, conquerors loved to hear their accomplishments on the battlefield being praised. But somehow he seemed so unlike anyone she’s ever had to deal with. It was clear, the neutral tone wasn’t going to work, she had to commit to either sticking to her initial plan of talking with a warrior or to instead treat him as… as what? She had no clue, aside from that it’s someone very different.

She bit her lip and took the risk of talking sincerely instead of diplomatically.

“I’m… No, not at all. I wouldn’t want to join just any warlord, no matter how strong. I heard that you are merciful and let even lost souls join you, and so your followers are loyal to you out of love and not fear. I heard that you spent many days borrowing the mountains in search of a blind dragon just because it was crying for help, and then granted it eyes and freedom. That once your people were plagued by the aquatic pests and you went door to door to every home and caught them all by yourself. This all tells me you are kind and fight to protect, not for glory or power. That you are building an empire to serve it, and not for it to serve you. And so from all this I thought no matter how different, we share the same dream.”

He kept silent, and as always when panicking, she slipped into overexplaining.

“By brawn, I didn’t mean just prowess in a fight, I meant your general strength. I think you’re used to choosing the most direct, straightforward solutions because you know you have power to back it up, so you don’t even start to consider other options. I’m, on the opposite, used to having little resources, so I’m very good at calculating cost-effectiveness. I think I could use more material basis and you could benefit greatly from my ability to optimize. Frankly, I decided to join you when I heard of the story of how you've dealt with parasites. I mean, personally going door to door? That’s so well-intended and yet so wasteful! How no one told you “Stop, no, what are you doing to yourself, there are so many other options”? I immediately thought, “I have to save this man”.

She forced herself to shut up, because that was probably too much sincerity and his eyebrows were disappearing under the bangs yet again. Under the desperate strike of inspiration, she raised her hand, and the rest of the stone spear crumbled down, leaving the small, intricately carved puzzle lock in the form of a dumbbell floating in the air.

“I think that by combining your solid foundation and my inventive precision, we can create something bigger than both of us.”

He eyed it, still looking impassive, and walked up to Guizhong, stopping a couple of steps ahead. Then he met her eyes and suddenly smirked.

“So you’re implying that I’m stupid?”

She blushed and smiled apologetically.

“I never said that. I only meant that when you have a hammer, and by hammer I mean giant rock spears, everything looks like a nail, and you could use some new perspectives.”

He actually smiled at that, a wide grin that showed inhumanly long fangs.

“But I do in fact think that I’m smarter with the currently present evidence,” she added cheekily. “But! The dumbbell I gave you is actually a puzzle lock. This is the mark of our pledge, and it is also my challenge to you. All my wisdom is hidden within this stone dumbbell. If you manage to solve it, I will admit that you’re at least as wise as I am."

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, chuckling, a deep rumbling sound, and she noticed that his gravelly voice could turn almost velvety when he was friendly. She could understand why he was so loved by his followers despite his initial stand-offishness. “So, are you going to finally show me these scrolls or are you planning to just keep insulting me?”

She fluttered her eyelashes with feigned innocence.

“I can do both. I’m very good at multitasking.”

Joking like that with the most fearsome conqueror in the land was objectively a dumb idea, but the difference between sharp, gilded intensity in his eyes to the interested, warm golden glow was almost dizzying. She’s never met anyone like him, but at the same time she felt like she knew him for a lifetime, knew that he was proud, but not arrogant, that his ego was not fragile enough to be hurt by friendly jabs.

“Okay, let’s start with agriculture, it’s honestly a basis for any great settlement,” she dropped to her knees and started rummaging through the scrolls. “Ugh, where is it?.. No, that’s the ballista schematics… the mining equipment…”

He sat down in the grass next to her and threw her a somewhat bashful glance.

“To be honest, in retrospect I do wish there was someone who stopped me from dealing with the pests like that. I now cannot stand even the smell of seafood.”

She clasped her hand over the mouth to stifle a horrified laugh, dropping the scrolls.

“Oh no! Oh, sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just the situation itself is so… You took preventative measures to make sure it’s not happening again, right?”

His smirk froze and his eyes widened, letting her know that he never thought of it and now was horrified by the idea. There was no monster or god powerful enough to brag about seeing the lord of stone scared, except for the goddess of dust who was now trying to stop wheezing.

“Oh no, you poor thing… Don’t worry, we’ll get to that, I won’t let it happen again on my watch. Now, where was I…Aha, here’s the agriculture scroll!”

She hesitated, because flowers were not the most comfortable surface to roll your scrolls over, but then he snapped his fingers and a small stone table rose up in front of them.

“Thank you! Oh, this is so convenient. You can’t imagine how many times I’ve thought “Ugh, I’d kill to have a block of stone right there.” I mean, I can create things by pressing dust, but it usually only works on small objects and if they are not supposed to be put under a lot of pressure. Which, in most projects I have, they are!... Sorry, I often get my thoughts derailed from the subject.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said with a dry grin and she blushed.

“You can interrupt me to get me back to the topic.”

“I don’t mind,” he shrugged, eyes still sparkling from laughter. “I think it’s interesting to hear you ramble.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so, because I tend to do that a lot… Anyway, agriculture! In my opinion, a well-planned and organized irrigation system is a key to…”

#rhine writes #morax #guizhong #zhongli #zhongli x guizhong #rhine writes light

[gold-rhine]

Sub afab! Kaeya x GN Dom! Reader

Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned.  Part two of this fic, can be read as standalone, but follows the emotional arc from the first part, so I think it’ll feel more rewarding to read them in order. But you do you, ofc.

Warnings: nsfw, bondage, fingering, oral (character receiving), vaginal and anal sex, overstim, graphic description of a panic attack. It’s a bit intense and angsty at one point, but it gets better, I promise

Wordcount: 4k

Trust me/ You can be sure

You kiss him, enjoying the languid and sensual way his tongue moves against yours, low sweet hum deep inside his throat. His hands are tied to the bedframe above his head, and his body is completely in your power when you slide down, pepper him with kisses, he’s beautiful and silken and arching under you.You suck on his clit briefly and then slide your tongue into his cunt, and his hips lift under your mouth, his legs shuddering and falling apart in pleasure, but his voice is still cocky and ironic, if just a little breathless

“I’m so sorry, I’m afraid that’s a wrong hole. I thought we wanted to try the other one.”

“And I think someone wants to get his smart mouth gagged.”

“You won’t,” he says with an arrogant smirk. “You like hearing me talk.”

He’s gotten more used to the compliments, but that only means he now sounds smug when fishing for them instead of bitterly sarcastic. You still can’t help but indulge him.

“I do,” you smile, straighten up to sprawl next to him, catch his chin in your hand to bring his face next to yours. “But there are ways to shut you up for a few moments without a gag.”

“Oh, you mean with a kiss?” he grins wolfishly, reaches up for you despite the cocky tone. “That’s chea…”

Holding his gaze, you slide two fingers into his cunt and watch him choke on his words, then smile wider and start caressing him in a way you know can drive him crazy in seconds, - thumb roughly at his clit, fingers hooked deep inside him, stroking his sweet spot with slow, methodic pressure.

“I would never cheat like that,” you tell him and you can feel his face heating up in a blush from how close you are. “Not when your mouth looks so pretty gasping for air.”

He blushes brighter and bites his lip harshly to stop himself from gasping, but can’t stop his body from betraying his desire, how he clenches around your fingers, turns from glistening to soaking wet so fast. It’s a different kind of powerlessness from just being tied, helplessness from how well you know him, how precisely you can break him, and he loves that you know it, care to remember it, even if he'll never admit it.

You can tell from experience when he’s about to come, when the thrusts of his hips first turn frantic, then his entire body arches up, desperately lifting off the bed, tense legs spread at the bent knees and breath held. You slide your fingers out before he can finish and he crashes down, glaring at you indignitally and catching his breath before he can speak.

“Oh, sorry, you said something about a wrong hole? I’ll leave it alone then,” you say with a feigned innocence. “Anything you want, as always.”

He groans, rolling his eyes.

“You were not such an insufferable tease when we first met.”

“I’ve learned from the best”, you grin and kiss the corner of his scowling mouth.

You use both lube and his own slick from his throbbing, soaked cunt to coat your fingers, then slide them down and start massaging the tight ring of his asshole.

“Babe,” you tell him softly, “remember, we’re just experimenting for fun. If it doesn’t feel good, tell me, we’ll do something else.”

He flushes, looks away and drawls with pointed irritation.

“Ugh, I wouldn’t tell you I haven’t tried it if I knew you'd make such a big deal out of it. It’s fine.”

Here’s the thing, you know sometimes he tries to hide his own discomfort if he thinks it’ll disappoint you, and also that he only gets so rudely defensive when you hit his sore spot. You can hear his heart racing in his chest even as his voice is confident. The time to be most gentle with Kaeya is when he tries his damnest to be the most unpleasant.

“Okay, just don’t hesitate to say something if it changes,” you bring your mouth to his ear and whisper quietly. “You are more than enough as it is, baby..”

He takes a shaky breath, still refusing to meet your eyes. You don’t pressure him, draw a trail of sloppy wet kisses down his neck, then on his fast rising chest, tense stomach, until covering his swollen clit with your mouth. It doesn’t take long of playing with it to make both of his holes twitch, pulsing open. You press one finger inside and he clenches around it immediately, his entire body tensing up. You glance up to see him arching, his chest with hardened peaks of nipples rising up feverishly in quick frantic breaths.

“Baby, are you okay?”

“Yes, don’t stop,” he says, sounding strangled, and then you catch a barely audible, tiny “please…”

You grin against his pulsing flesh and get to eating him out, with your finger slowly moving inside his tight, tense ass. When you start picking up the rhythm, he moans, hips bucking up to meet your lips, knees shaking and falling apart, toes scraping at the bedsheets.

“So you *do* like it,” you smile, actually relieved at this undeniable display of pleasure, no longer needing to worry that he tries to hide his discomfort for your sake.

“Can you…” he swallows harshly, still doesn’t look at you, even though his hips are rising eagerly to meet your movements. “I want you in my cunt too…”

You smirk and slide your thumb into his wet, trembling entrance, suck on his puffy clit. He lets out a choked noise, something between the strangled moan and a needy whine, his pussy clenches, gushing with wetness. Hiis legs jerk up to press his knees to his chest and offer himself better to you, toes curling in the air.

“Oh, so you *really* like it, hah?” you smile, move your tongue along his beautiful quivering folds and sliding another finger into his ass, eliciting another moan, his legs raising even higher up to expose himself. It’s humiliating, but he can’t help it, wants to be open for you, loves this feeling of being filled by you, wants even more, wants you in his mouth too, even if he’s too proud to admit it, having already openly asked for too much.

But you see him lick his lips and bite them, gasp, opening his mouth wider than he had to. You slide two fingers of your free hand into his mouth, and he shudders, tenses up, looking up at you paralyzed, like a deer caught in headlights. Before this moment, he didn’t know he wanted this so badly, but now it takes over him, how good it feels to be so open, all of him in your disposal, all of his holes, and how you still look at him with such a hunger, like you want even more, like you want all of him  

“Fuck, look at you. You’re so beautiful. And you’re mine,” you fuck into him, his cunt, his ass, and his mouth, and he trembles and arches, eyelashes fluttering helplessly. “Everything you have, I’ll take you whole.”

He comes harder than he’s ever had before, scream muffled by your fingers in his throat, cunt squirting on your hand, his mind completely black and blank, nothing but the waves of pleasure. You let him ride through orgasm until he goes limp, slide your fingers out and move to untie his hands, but he arches up into you feverishly, closes his legs around you.

“No, please, don’t stop yet,” part of him is embarrassed of how quickly he came, even larger part wants more of this thoughtless bliss, but there’s an unspoken, shameful undercurrent that aches to be held, can’t stand the thought of losing the feeling of being wanted so completely. (you offer him aftercare after every session and he shrugs it off, too proud of being in control, confusing genuine care for pity, because despite being brilliantly smart, he is sometimes a complete idiot) “I want more. I want you to fuck both of my holes, hard.”

“Are you sure you can take it right now?” you pause, looming over him. “It seemed pretty intense for you, baby. We can always try it next time.”

“No, let’s do it now.” He smiles seductively, his voice turning into a purr, but with a wry edge. “Come on, don’t you want me? Haven’t you promised me so many times, “anything for you”?”

You do want him, especially because he’s begging, so openly needy, arching and rubbing against you, without any irony or performative flirting. Here’s another thing. You think he has experience and knows his limits, so you can trust him when he says he can take it, and he thinks that being traumatized in other areas somehow makes him tougher in this one. This is, of course, not how it works.

You get the harness that lets you add a strap in addition to the first starp\cock. He’s on his knees in front of you, tied arms bent at the elbows, back arched and ass high in the air, exposing his soaked cunt. You cup it with your hand and stroke his swollen, pulsing clit, and he bites back a needy moan, rubs against your palm desperately, the slick petals of his folds visibly trembling open.

“Just fuck me already.”

“You can’t blame me for enjoying the sight. It’s not every day I see you begging to be used.”

“You could be,” he says quietly after a small pause.

You raise an eyebrow and make a mental note to bring it up later. You haven’t discussed many terms outside of the bedroom, and from his independent and flirty attitude you’ve assumed he wouldn’t want to be exclusive. He still didn’t tell you that he hasn't slept with anyone else, for which he has completely rational reasons, such as why would he go try some untested swivel when he already has a source of delicious wine, it makes complete sense without bringing feelings into this. And also all of the time that you’re not fucking him, he’s very glad that you don’t ask him to be yours, because that’s just more convinient for everyone involved, and the fact that he feels like dying if you don’t say it when you’re inside him is just. Hormones. Or kink. Or both, but who cares, it doesn’t matter.  

For now, you align the heads of both cocks against his entrances and carefully press into him. He shudders, gasping, an unfamiliar overwhelming sensation of both of his holes being stretched at the same time. You move slowly, give him time to adjust before every thrust, run your hand soothingly over the tense muscles of his back. He’s usually not very loud, but now he moans with every movement, tied hands clawing at the bedsheets. He feels so full, like there’s no way he could take any more and yet every time you push deeper, until both of your cocks are buried inside him to the hilt.

You lean down, gently move away the long strand of midnight blue hair to kiss his stiff shoulder, whisper into his ear, sweet and dirty. His forehead, damp from sweat, is pressed to the sheets, eyes squeezed shut, mouth opening silently in gasps for air. You hold him from behind, your chest against his back, one of your hands caresses his throat and then trails down to play with his nipples, another hand slides in between his thighs to stroke his swollen clit. He turns his head abruptly to catch your mouth in an characteristically clumsy, awkward kiss, his entire body writhing against you with needy abandon, his mind too far gone in pleasure to be concerned with pride. He comes like that, just from the feeling of you all around him and filling him up.

It’s so rare to see him unraveled so completely for longer than a fleeting moment after which his defenses go up again. You want to fuck him so badly, he’s so pliant in your arms, sweet and wet and open, but you contain yourself to ask

“Hey, baby, are you okay? Do you want more?”

“Yes,” he says immediately. He’s dizzy and breathless, but all he knows through the fog of pleasure is that it feels so good and he doesn’t want it to stop, doesn’t want you to let go of him. “Don’t stop.”

You don’t need anymore encouragement, start fucking him, slow at first and then raising the pace. He screams, choked and so unlike himself that you’d be worried he’s in pain if he wasn’t screaming “Yes” and “Please”. You dig your fingers into his hips, enjoy the obscene sounds of skin slapping on skin, of his gushing wet cunt being fucked.

It doesn’t feel like usual orgasm for him, not the tight knot in the pit of the stomach, but lightning bright currents rolling through his entire aching body, turning him raw and overwhelmed, like he doesn’t even belong to himself anymore, filled and used so deeply by you. After a little while, he loses both his mind and control completely, his mouth going slack and his eyes rolling, his body trembling and shaking helplessly under you. He almost blacks out when he comes, his screams turning more and more desperate until you stop, slide out of him.

You only move away for a minute to take off the harness, thinking he’s too far gone to care. He doesn’t exactly come to his senses, but the deep-ridden survival instinct urges him to take control. His mind is still blank and dizzy, black rings under his eyelids and heart drumming in his ears, and all he knows is that he’s alone and weak, so weak and helpless and TIED, he can’t move, so he struggles, pulls at his ties, but can’t break free and he’s horrified.

You turn back at the high clinking sound and see the icy crystalyne shield forming around him.  It looks fragile like cut glass, but the thought of forcefully smashing it, while he’s curled inside, scared and desperately trying to break free, is sickening. He’s weirdly quiet, he screamed in pleasure while you held him, but now he’s biting his lip and struggling silently, his eyes shut, his heart beating way too fast and his ears ringing, like he’s so sure he has no no one to help if he calls.

“Kaeya, it’s me, it’s okay, baby,” you touch the shield and it freezes your fingertips, but you don’t move away. “You need to drop your shield, darling, it’ll be okay, please, my love, you have to let go...”

You keep talking and gradually it gets through the ringing in his ears, he still can barely understand the words, but he can recognize that it’s you. All of his survival instincts scream to not trust you, not trust anything you say, because anyone can turn on him at any time, so he can never let his guard down. …but it’s your voice asking him to let you in.

He chokes on the breath, his arms tense and wringed in the ties, and drops the shield.

You move immediately, scoop him close to your chest, hold his shivering body with one arm, and clumsily try to untie his hands with the other. It’s not easy, but you’re afraid to let him go, and he’s shaking against you. You finally manage to free him and he curls against you, only now starting to sob. His wrists have deep red marks from the ties from where he pulled too harshly on them, trying to wring them out. You gently kiss the sensitive bruised skin of his inner wrists and keep telling him that it’s okay, he’s safe, you’ve got him.

He actually comes to his senses some time after, and the first thing he thinks of is how embarrassing this is. There’s a difference between being seductively helpless and horribly pathetic and he never intended to cross that line. He pushes you away, stands up, determined, if a little wobbly, and stumbles his way to the bathroom, holding onto the walls.

“I’m fine,” he snaps when you try to help him, but it’s hard to be pissed at his tone when he’s still so visibly weak and disoriented. You help him settle in the bathtub as the warm water fills up to cover him when the subject comes to him leaving after this.

“Are you kidding me? You cannot leave like that,” you say incredulously, and his gaze suddenly sharpens, turns cold blue.

“Why? You think you can actually order me around?” he drawls, voice dripping with sarcasm, but you don’t take the bait. You cover his hand with your own, look him in the eye and say slowly

“Kaeya, don’t be ridiculous. I won’t let you go alone in this state,” he visibly bristles, tensing under your hand and you continue calmly, “You can sleep on the sofa and never talk to me again after this if you want, but I won’t leave you alone like that.”

He looks away and tenses up, quiet for a long time, until he finally says “Okay, fine. Can you leave me be for a little while here at least?”

“Of course,” you squeeze his hand and stand up, fighting the urge to kiss him when he’s so obviously closed off. He still doesn’t look at you when you walk out of the bathroom.

You prepare the sofa for him and go to bed. He appears on the threshold of the bathroom sometime after, wearing your oversized t-shirt. Kaeya is someone who can make a potato sack look good, quite literally. Illuminated by the orange light from behind, ruffled hair and long slender legs and just a little of a curve of his ass visible under the baggy shirt, he looks incredibly hot.

He turns the bathroom light off and walks out to the other room with the sofa. He lingers at the threshold, glancing briefly back at you. You’re not sure if asking him to come to you will help or only spook him away, so you keep silent. After some hesitation, he walks out of the room and vanishes out of sight. You sigh and close your eyes.

Few minutes later, you look up at the quiet sound of the steps. He walks up to your bed slowly, a silvery silhouette, illuminated by the moonlight, but his eyes are invisible in the shadows.

“I thought if I’m staying at your place, I might as well enjoy the best sheets, which you will obviously have at your own bed,” his voice is confident, even cavalier, but he wavers in front of your bed, uncertain of your response.

“Of course. It’s the least I can offer you,” you smile at him in reassurance. He gives you a small, barely noticeable in the dark smirk, and finally climbs into the bed. Despite his arrogant tone, he freezes at the very edge of the bed, his back to you, visibly trying to take as little space as possible. His silhouette is sharp and tense in the moonlight and he pulls just enough of covers to put over his waist, laying exposed otherwise. It breaks your heart for some reason you can’t quite articulate at the moment, how lonely and guarded he looks just next to you, and you want to just reach out and pull him closer, but remember the cold crystalline shield and don’t do it. Instead, you carefully pull the bed cover onto him. After a few minutes, when you close your eyes and start to adjust to the cool air without the covers, he scoots over to you, bringing the sheets back to cover both of you.

You smile and softly kiss the back of his neck. He doesn’t say anything, but leans back against you, so you throw an arm over his waist and fall asleep, holding him close.

When you wake up the next morning and start stirring, the first thing you see is him looking up at you sharply, like he’s reading your reaction to seeing him. He only relaxes when you smile and say “Oh hey there, gorgeous.”

He grins and presses against you, sprawled at your side, catches your mouth in a kiss. He’s eager to prove to you that yesterday was just a fluke, that he can compensate for all the trouble, that he’s certainly, undoubtedly worth it.

He has nothing under his shirt and when you slide your hand up his thigh, it rides up, exposing his naked ass. He throws his leg over you, grinds against you a little too aggressively, when through the fog of morning sleepiness and lust you finally remember what happened last night and stop moving.

“Wait, I think you should rest up for at least a day, baby, let’s wait.”

“Ugh, I’m fine, don’t be such a bore.”

“You said you were fine yesterday and then almost gave me a heart attack. Sorry, I’m not risking it again.”

You say it in a light tone, so you don’t expect his response to be heated, but he abruptly moves away and glares at you, tensing up.

“So what, you’re just going to throw me out like that? Fine, I’ll go and finally fuck someone else then.”

“Kaeya, what the fuck are you talking about? Of course I won’t throw you out.“ He still stares at you incredulously so you throw an arm around his shoulders and pull him down on the bed next to you. “Come here. It’s way too early for this, babe.”

He freezes up against you, staring at the ceiling, your arm that’s holding him close burning him like a hot iron, but he can’t move. The sprouts of tenderness crawl under his collarbones, insidious and unwanted, his calculating mind frantically searching for any motives that aren't caring about him for you. He watches dust dance in early rays of slanted sunrise and wills himself to move away, to leave, but can’t. Fine then, if he can’t bring himself to leave, it’s not like being left instead was ever hard for him to achieve.

You start dozing off, your cheek pressed against his soft hair, when the thought of what he meant when he said finally fuck someone else crosses your mind. But before you can think about it any deeper, he plants his arm across your face.

You catch his wrist and gently move it away, squinting at him.

“Kaeya, are you trying to be annoying enough to make me throw you out to prove a point?”’

“No,” he grins pleasantly, his voice sweet. “I’m trying to find out “how” annoying I have to be to make you throw me out.”

“I won’t ever throw you out,” you tell him almost solemnly, holding his gaze, that is anxious under bravado if you know him well enough. Then you smirk at him. “But I might be forced to whack you with a pillow if you keep this up.”

He looks over you intently, his eyes searching, questioning if you really meant it, but then he grins back.

“Then I have to warn you that I’m ruthlessly proficient at pillow fighting, being an undisputed champion at the dawn winery except for the five months after Diluc hit the growth sprout first and his strategy of falling down like a cut tree log was paying off due to the sheer size advantage.”

“Hmm, it doesn’t sound like you’ve been winning due to skill then, maybe you’ve just never met a worthy opponent.”’

“Well, now I’ll have to defend the honor of my doofus brother. I can call him useless, but other people can’t.”

“I need to take your threats seriously then,” you catch his chin and gently rub under it in a way you know makes him melt. Then you kiss him and reach around to steal his pillow while he’s distracted. “So I better make sure you’re disarmed.”

He gasps in exaggerated dismay, not even trying to hide a grin at the same time.

“I cannot believe you’ve backstabbed me like that,” he says, sounding delighted, and breaks into laughter. It strikes you that you’ve never seen him laugh so carefree and openly, without reservations, not just a wry chuckle or a smirk, and how lovely and happy he looks like that. “I hope you understand that you leave me no choice but to retaliate just as ruthlessly.”

You smile at him, hoarding both of your pillows behind your back.

“Of course. Anything you want, as always.”

#rhine writes #rhine writes filth #sub kaeya #genshin smut #sub genshin #kaeya

[gold-rhine]

First time sub afab! Kazuha x GN Dom! Reader

A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. I actually had the visual for this when I was writing my main Kazuha piece, but in the end it didn't fit the pacing, so I'm repurposing it now. this one was quick, but hope you enjoy.

Warnings: nsfw, minors get out, fingering, oral (character receiving)

Wordcount: 1k

You wander the city the entire night with him, it’s summer so it's warm and the sky is hanging very low and black, stars bright and ripe like berries. You kiss him every time you get, until he’s disheveled and flushed, melting against you, eyes gleaming in the darkness. When you pull away, his fingers curl in the folds of your clothes, he looks up at you, biting his lips, swollen from the kisses, hips grinding against you, shy, but not ashamed. He has an understanding of what he wants, incredibly strong for someone so inexperienced, he could not be pressured by time or attention, only makes his move when it feels right. Like it finally does this night, with you.

“Not yet, baby,” you whisper, trail kisses down his arched neck.

“Why not?” he pouts, too sweet and sincere to be manipulative, and you have to fight an urge to take him right there, against the walls in this dirty alleyway, but he deserves better.

“Because I want to make your first time truly special.”

He gives you a small, wry smile. “Well, I’m not exactly a silk bed with rose petals kind of person.”

“I’d never offer you something so stuffy,” you catch his chin, run your thumb over his lower lip until he opens his mouth and takes you in, his scarlet eyes never leaving yours. “Trust me, my little wind, I know you.”

“What is the best place to meet the sunrise?” you ask him as the night is coming to an end and without a second thought he answers

“At the top of the old tower.”

“Let’s go then,” you grin, dragging him by the hand and he smiles, following.

The tower is a ruin left from the ancient defense walls and is of course closed, but Kazuha climbs the nearby tree and gets to the tower’s window through the long branch. As always, he is a treat to watch in motion, swift, decisive and precise. Like any wind, he resists being captured in a moment, each movement would not look too attractive if caught in a still picture, but together in real time they weave together with fluid grace.

He helps you to climb into the window, laughs when you pin him against the wall on the spiraling staircase. You kiss him until he’s flushed and panting, clothes in disarray.

“We’ll miss the dawn if we don’t go up now,” he whispers breathlessly, but doesn’t try to resist, his arms thrown around your neck.

“We won’t,” you kiss his neck, run your hands down his warm, pliant body. “How can the sun rise when I have all of the sunshine right there with me?”

He giggles adorably, squirming under your touch. He’s incredibly wound up after an entire night of teasing, desire is both a tight ball and fluttery wings deep in his belly. But he doesn’t mind waiting, his soaked cunt aches so sweetly, and he loves this dizzy haze, being carried helplessly and played by your will like a leaf in the wind, trusts that you won’t leave him unsatisfied by the end, and so it doesn’t matter when that moment comes.

You do not, in fact, miss the sunrise when you get to the top of the tower, but only barely. The sky is high and clear, deep blue in the west with the last stars and the narrow crescent of the moon still faintly glowing, and translucent gray and light blue at the east, an anticipation of the light. The city underneath the tower is still sleeping, the low ground streets drowning in cloudy mist, but the early birds nesting on the high roofs with reddish-purple shingles are already singing.

He looks at the east side, leaning on the stone parapet, when you catch his waist and decisively turn him around, kiss him while opening his clothes to bare his chest. He doesn’t try to stop you, just blushes brightly, looking up at you with wide opened eyes.

“Right… there?”

You smile, kiss him without answering, and he shivers when you slide his cloth down his shoulders. The morning chill mixes with his own feverish heat, and when you move your lips down his throat, tender juncture between the neck and shoulders, down to his chest, it feels like burning in contrast to the fresh air. You throw your jacket on the wide ledge of the parapet, and he gasps when you push him up on it. You suck on the hard pink bud of his nipple as you take off his pants, but then you straighten up, look down on him. You want to see him fully when you spread his legs, his lips swollen from kisses, neck covered in lovebites, he’s panting hard, blushing brilliantly, but looking you in the eye eagerly, his flushed pink cunt open to your view.

You slide a finger into his wet entrance and watch him moan, grip at the iron lattice on top of the stone ledge. You peper him with kisses until covering his clit with your mouth, and he shudders, gasping. You grin against the tender, slick skin of his pussy, suck on his clit and move your finger inside of him so torturously slow. His cunt clenches and he whines so sweetly, leaning back on the iron, feeling both exposed to the whole world and hidden from everything but you.

You ease another finger in and start pumping them in and out, at first slowly, then increasing the speed. His trembling legs rise up involuntarily, bending at the knees and pressed to his chest to expose his pulsing pussy even more and thrust against your movements. Overwhelmed, he arches, gasping with an open mouth, the edges of the iron lattice digging into his shoulderblades. When you curl your fingers inside of him, your lips on his swollen clit, he comes with a choked helpless moan, his head thrown back, and he sees the first golden light of dawn spread over the blue-gray skies above him while the wave of pleasure that consumes his own body.

You look up and see the tender, lemony yellow sunrays spill over his pale arched body, soft and flushed in contrast to the crumbling rocks and iron, his whimpers mixing with the bird songs. You straighten up and catch his mouth, your fingers still buried deep inside his wet, pulsing cunt, and his legs wrap around you, his mouth opening for you to slide your tongue in.

“I promised you something special, didn’t I?”

#rhine writes filth #rhine writes #sub genshin #sub kazuha #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #dom reader #sub character #kazuha

[gold-rhine]

Sub! Thoma x Dom! Gn Reader

Warnings: nsfw, minors please get out, edging, praise kink, service play, slight degradation, chastity cage, overstim, vibrator, oral (reader receiving), ruined orgasms. Fluff. Yes, I said fluff, and I mean it.

Wordcount: 4k

A\N: Repost bc my previous blog got shadowbanned. as always, filth is under the cut, don’t worry. If you’re a worldbuilding purist and vibrator bothers you, pretend it’s from Fountaine. If they already have cameras, they can manage vibrators.

Thoma is just great. He would almost be too sweet if he didn’t have another side as a problem-solving fixer or didn’t have a spine.

And he does have a spine, unarguably, he threw a spear at the face of his country’s god during her one-hit kill boob-nuke move. So when he submits to you, you know he’s doing it by choice and not because he’s a pushover, which makes it even better.

Like Diluc, he's a dedicated pyro workaholic who will not take care of his own needs or pleasure unless he’s literally forced to, but unlike Mond’s Batman, Thoma is not on 27 layers of dissociation and is actually aware of what he wants.

It’s not that he couldn’t be smth more ambitious than a housekeeper, it’s that the combination of mild OCD and people-pleasing motivation make both housekeeping and being a fixer a very rewarding occupations for him, and why be ashamed of something that makes you happy.

Thoma’s natural impulse when he sees something wrong or out of order is to fix it, and the scale doesn’t really matter - from spilled coffee, to trade deal disputes, to tyrannical government decree. And because of his indifference to the scale, he doesn’t turn this world-bettering into a grand mission or an isolating burden of responsibility, unlike SOME people, and therefore manages to have one of the healthiest mentalities out of all genshin workaholics.

His biggest turn-on is bringing pleasure to the partner and he will always put others' satisfaction above his own, which is why he can top if that’s the best way to please his lover, but his ideal role is a service sub.

with proper encouragement, he’ll be very open and needy, but also bashful enough to be fun to tease when you want to. Literally best of both worlds.

You might not appreciate Thoma or not find him interesting compared to other, loudly flashy characters, everyone has a right to have no taste.

He might be ready for almost anything to please you after you’ve already made him yours, but he has his quiet dignity. He will not be advertising if you don’t notice first.

He’s a bite of a fresh green apple, warm from being left in the summer sun, a tangible pleasure to sink your teeth in, with just enough tanginess to offset the sweetness. A breathy laugh, ruffled sunset-gold hair, agile body, always in motion, green-grass bright eyes, a late spring on the cusp of turning to summer, warm and sunny, but not yet stifling hot. Golden time, all yours to claim, but very easy to miss if inattentive.

Has a praise kink, obviously, but whatever he does for you, he will never ask for the compliments himself. He can be easily persuaded to beg, but not for praise - he needs to be complimented not because he asked you to, but because he’s earned it.

Also likes degradation at the same time. In the hangout event he was like “Nooo, traveler, don’t stop these authorative men from openly disparaging me, I don’t mind. Despite the fact that I have more than enough influence as both Ritou fixer and closest confidant of the Kamisato clan siblings to put an end to it myself. It just doesn’t bother me haha.”

Yeah okay, sure, whatever you say, babe.

Has a highkey oral fixation. Not only the balls-eating idle animation. But also completely unprompted, out of nowhere basically railroaded his friends into doing a weird “game” where you have to guess the unknown weird foods just by taste and texture. Brought the weirdest foods and tasted them the most for no reason until he’s literally got sick. Like, you didn’t have to go this hard, king, your friends were just sitting there confused anyway, it wasn’t even a competition.

Later brings up said event as a fun time that he’d like to repeat

Yeah okay, SURE, whatever you say, babe.

Someone please fuck this man on the mouth with a variety of differently shaped and textured dildoes to satisfy his need for interesting mouthfeels and save him from another indigestion.

Thoma’s biggest insecurity is belonging. Caught between two heritages, disconnected from Mondstadt, but always seen as an outsider in Inazuma. He found his place in the Yashiro commission, and he threw himself fully into his work for this sense of belonging, but secretly and, as he thinks, selfishly, Thoma yearns for someone to want him just for himself, not for his skills. And not just to want him, to claim him, own him fully, without stipulations, to reward or punish him as you see fit, but to know that he’s completely, undoubtedly, unquestionably yours.

His enjoyment of chastity cage stems from both of his main preferences, first, it’s a constant, tangible proof of belonging to you, more permanent than any mark on the skin could be. Second, it appeals to his cheeky part that enjoys the thrill of having a hidden side, like  “oh, you think that i’m just a humble housekeeper, but I’m actually a resourceful influential fixer, but you’ll never know that :3”

He’s not clingy, but he blooms when given attention, like a sunflower quietly turning to the sun. He cherishes anything - from the smile and quick peck on the cheek, to slap on the ass or you dragging him into a broom closet and fucking him against the wall while he bites his handguard to stifle moans. The anticipation that you might ask for anything from him at any moment sparks deep in his belly like a small flickering candleflame.

Like any pyro, he loves a challenge, but because Thoma is like the farthest you can get from a brat, he doesn’t like challenging you, but enjoys endurance or patience tests, and the more he has to work for it, the sweeter the reward will feel.

If he’s only left one room to clean, you can order him to do it with a remotely controlled bullet vibrator in his ass and enjoy the show of him struggling to keep his composure and finish the job.

At first he tries really hard to pretend it’s not affecting him at all and go on as usual, but you notice his hitched, and then quickened breath, tensed body, his movements are stifled in comparison to his usual easy fluidity, he’s stealing quick glances at you from the half lowered eyelashes.

As it gets worse, you can see him breathing through the mouth, swallowing harshly, his hips twitching, so you ramp up the vibrator’s setting and he almost doubles over the table he was wiping, gasping from surprise. For some time, he struggles to get a hold of himself, his thighs shaking, fists clenching on the table’s surface, but then manages to get back to cleaning, his hands a little trembling, but still careful and melticiuos and you turn the intensity down. You don’t want this game to end too quickly.

Of course, you can cheat and tease him directly, starting from fleeting caresses, to stealing kisses and getting in his way and groping. He’s left with his clothing ruffled, shirt riding up from when you slid your hands under it, pants half-undone by you and hanging on hipbones. He blushes, but doesn’t fix his clothes, because you made a point of leaving them like that, and the way you watch him with obvious desire riles him up just as much as the bullet pulsing inside of him. It takes all of his willpower to not go to you, collapse at your feet and beg to touch him, fuck him, let him finish.

Finally, there’s only one bookshelf left to dust, and at this point Thoma is no longer even trying to keep up the pretenses, he’s squirming, letting out shaky gasps, lightheaded from mix of desire and ache in his aroused cock, cage feeling more and more painfully tight. He’s steeling himself, taking deep breaths, because by the archons, he’s not going to let some dusty wood planks get the best of him.  

He’s so focused on his goal that he doesn’t notice how you approach him, until you hug him from behind, so he shudders, letting out a surprised gasp, and you chuckle.

“So, how is it going, baby?” you ask with an innocent tone, but your mouth is pressed to his ear, and you feel him shiver from your warm breath.

“Great,” he manages to start out with an upbeat tone and a smile, but then you start kissing his neck and sliding your hands under his shirt, and his voice gets wobbly. “I’m… ah, I’m… so close…” you find his nipples and they harden immediately under your touch, forcing a shaky, needy moan out of him before he can continue, “Almost done… just…mmmhm… just a bookshelf…” you twist his nipples and buck your hips against his ass, and he arches in your arms, “Oh, fuck, please!”

He’s too fucking delicious, so you turn him over and press him against the wall, claiming his mouth. He’s such a good kisser, even half out of breath and out of mind like this.

“No, I can’t let you fuck the bookshelf, babe,” you tease, smiling. “That would just be a mess.”

He starts rolling his eyes at your joke, but ends up with his throat arched, your lips trailing kisses under his jaw.

“Wait, I didn’t finish…”

You smirk and pull his pants down to the thighs in one abrupt motion. “Oh, you’re definitely going to finish.”

He blushes, but meets your eyes anxiously. “You mean, like that?..”

“Yeah, with your pretty cock still caged, darling.”

He blushes even more brightly and swallows hard, but doesn’t argue, doesn’t complain, doesn’t ask you to take it off, despite how uncomfortably tight it feels, despite knowing that coming like that won’t bring him pleasure or even relief, just frustration. It’s been a few days, and he wants to finally be allowed a real orgasm so badly, but he follows your order like a good, obedient boy that he is.

He lets the last dregs of his control go, because that’s how you want to see him, submits to your caresses, and the world drowns in a delirious, needy haze of desire. He hears his own filthy, shuddering moans without realizing it’s him making them, basks in how you rake your eyes over him in hunger, exposed, writhing against the wall under you, blushing cheeks and parted lips, shirt pulled up to the collarbones and pants pulled down to the thighs.

It’s worth the sweet, maddening torture of his aching dick and overstimmed, abused prostate for how you claim him, your hands and lips all over his body, your tongue sliding inside his mouth, it’s overwhelmingly too much and desperately not enough. He isn’t sure how much time has passed, every moment feels like stretched out, agonizing eternity, until he can’t take it anymore.

He comes with a half-choked moan, his legs going weak, and slides down against the wall, panting. You kneel down next to him, kiss his face and whisper praises as he’s trying to catch his breath, and reach between his legs to take the bullet out.

But instead of switching it off, you press it against his cock, sending a violent jolt through his entire body.  He gasps, his bright green eyes going wide in disbelief.

“Shhh, baby, I just need you to cum one more time for me,” you tell him, kissing his cheekbones tenderly. His cage has an opening that leaves part of the cockhead exposed, it’s swollen, red and throbbing against the bullet.  

“No, please, I can’t,” he gasps for air with an open mouth like he’s drowning, presses his back against the wall in an instinctive urge to get away.

“Of course you can, baby,” you catch his chin, forcing him to look at you. “You are mine, aren't you?”

“Yes,” you can feel his throat moving under your fingers when he swallows.

“And your cock is my favorite pretty plaything. So I need you to come for me again like my good little whore.”

“It hurts,” he moans weakly and shuts his eyes, blushing brilliantly, his gasps turn into quiet whimpers. His body is twitching, nails scraping helplessly on the floor, but he still hasn’t said the safeword, so you keep the bullet pressed to his throbbing cock.

“I know, baby,” you press a gentle kiss to the corner of his parted lips. “But I want to have you whole. I want to take everything you have, sunflower, and I know you can still give me more.”

His arm springs up abruptly and for a second you think he’ll try to push you away, but instead he finds your free hand and intertwines his fingers with yours.  

“Yes,” he whimpers shakily and looks up at you, his eyes bright and glittering green from tears. “Oh, please, please…”

He looks incredible like this, luminous in combination of filthy hunger and naked tenderness, an exposed, helpless mess, writhing on his knees, trying to spread legs that are caught in half-undone pants on his thighs

his cheeks glowing bright red, he’s keening and begging, without even knowing what he begs you for, with wet parted lips, chest raising in heavy feverish breathing, cum from his first orgasm still staining his cage and stomach, the swollen, pulsing tip is leaking under your finger when you thumb his slit with the same hand that holds the bullet against it.

Сompletely undone, unraveled, tortured and trembling, but nonetheless, he’s clutching at your hand, reaching, leaning into you with desperate need.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, baby,” you squeeze his hand, press yourself against him as he whines, and you can tell he’s close by how the muscles of his abs tighten, his thighs tense. “Show me how good you can be.”

He comes with a choked, broken sound, half-moan, half-sob. You hold him as he’s shaking, pepper his face with kisses, whisper praises as he’s trying to catch his breath.

“Good boy. You are such a delight to have, my little treasure.” His body is full of raw-nerved, unreleased tension, but your words add a maddeningly sweet undercurrent, shiver that runs down his spine, makes the torturous frustration worth it if you’ve enjoyed him. “You’ve been so good for me, I’ll even let you choose your reward. If you want, I will take off your cage and make you cum until you lose your voice from screaming.”

His breath hitches, eyes light up in hungry anticipation, but you continue.

“Or, I’ll let you serve me. I’ll fuck your pretty mouth.”

“Let me serve you,” he answers without hesitation and you smile, because you always knew what he'd choose.

Few minutes later, he’s kneeling at your feet, already naked except for the handcuffs and the cage, the longer strands of his molten gold hair falling freely over the sculpted shoulders. He’s quiet, but he’s looking up at you in restrained anticipation.

“Are you sure, baby? You can still change your mind.”

“Yeah,” he says without hesitation, nuzzling at your knee. “I’m sure.”

“I might not let you out today at all.”

“I know,” he kisses your knee, rubs his cheek against it pleadingly, looking you in the eye. “Please… Use me.”

You smile, let him start slowly, trail a line of kisses up your thigh until he presses his mouth to your sex. It’s not the first time you use his mouth, so he knows what you like, eager lips and searching tongue. He looks up at you, watching for all signs of pleasure: heavy breath, narrowed eyes, bitten lip. You slide your hand into his hair, stroke it softly and he hums in appreciation. When your hips buck against his face, you can feel his moan reverberating against your flesh.

Your fingers tighten in his hair, and you forcibly pull him closer, fuck his mouth as he goes slack, his eyelashes flutter, warm and willing for you to take.

You slow down a little bit, just enough to hear him make a tiny choked noise, caught deep in his throat, see him look up at you from under half-lowered lashes with glistening, dizzyingly grateful green eyes.

When you finish, it’d be enough for him to cum if he wasn’t caged still, so when you let him go, he slumps against your leg, breathing heavily through his bruised mouth, his ragged breaths hot against your skin.

“Thank you,” he whispers, blush on his cheeks heating up against your knee, just barely loud enough for you to catch it.

You take him to the bed, throw him on his back, and he lies sprawled helplessly in front of you, delirious from the constrained pleasure, watching you with bated breath.

“You’ve been very good, my treasure,” you whisper, looming over him, move the unruly bangs, no longer held by a headband, from his forehead. His hair is too bright and saturated for a blonde, not dark and red enough for ginger, another duality caught in between, gold and tangerines, amber and buttercups, sunflower petals in the light of the late sunset.

“So even though you refused your reward, I’ll give you a chance to cum. If you can win a little game,” you smile, open his cage and slide it off. It goes slowly, with an effort, too tight around his swollen dick, and he shudders, sighs deeply when he’s finally free.

You press your palm against his cock and kiss the corner of his lips. “I’m afraid you’ll have to work for it, baby.”

He throws a glance at you, blushing, unsure. Is that all you’ll ask from him, to debase himself to show how much he wants it? That seems too easy for how far gone he is in his desires, but he doesn’t question you. He catches your mouth in an eager, sloppy kiss, thrusts his hips up, rubbing his cock against your hand.

You let his dick slide a few times against your palm, drink lovely, sweet moans from his lips, and then move your hand up, out of his reach. You chuckle as you watch him thrust helplessly into the air, groaning in frustration.

You only touch him again after he settles down, let him build up the rhythm, his thrusts turning quick and frantic as he’s getting closer to release. When you smirk and caress his cheekbones, he tenses, your grin is so teasing he expects a catch.

He waits for you to move your hand away again, but instead you lean down and sweetly tell him: “Slower.”

This catches him off guard, his eyes and mouth going wide in surprise and dismay. He has to brace himself forcefully to obey against his natural instincts. He grips at the bedsheets, but manages to slow himself down to half the speed.

You watch him struggle with a smile, his chest rising in heavy panting, parted lips, fingers clutching at the sheets, involuntary arch building in his spine as he focuses all his willpower on controlling his hips. You kiss a line down the exposed column of his throat, feel him shudder and his cock twitch against your palm, he almost bucks erratically, but catches himself at the last moment.

“Good boy,” you whisper, raking your fingers through his tangled hair. He meets your eyes, pleading, at once desperate and hopeful for release.

Instead, you tell him “Stop moving.”

He lets out a loud groan that breaks into a shaky whimper as he forces himself to pin his hips down to the bed. He throws his head back and arches his back, squeezing his eyes shut, his dick twitching against your palm and his knuckles whiten from how hard he’s clenching his fists. You run your hand up the length of his painfully hard, throbbing cock, provoking a moan, gently thumb at the slit of his swollen, leaking tip.

“Fuck, please, I’m so close, please…” he gasps for air with an open mouth, writhing under you as you kiss his jaw, slide your other hand over his body in tantalizing caresses, feel his muscles clench under your touch. You’re not so cruel to count this against him, because he does manage to keep himself from thrusting into your teasing hand as you slowly, maddeningly slowly stroke his cock, pearly string of precum dripping on his stomach.

“Very good, sunflower,” you whisper in his ear, feel his eyelashes flutter as he’s struggling to look at you. He’s so tense he’s shaking, sweat pooling on his temples and a trembling slope of his collarbones. You kiss his parted lips, cover his clenched hand with your own. “You’ve been such a delightful, beautiful plaything today. Come for me, you’ve earned it, baby.”

He comes undone immediately, with a desperate, strangled scream that he’s too unraveled to feel ashamed about. You pump his cock, let him ride out the pleasure he’s been waiting so long for, forcefully held control finally lost completely and his mind going completely blank, watch him thrashing under you until his screams turn to whimpers and he grasps at you and pulls you close.

Later in the shower he has no strength left, so you start cleaning him up yourself, and he tries protesting, but you gently pin him to the wall.

“Can I take care of my own little treasure, hm?” you ask him teasingly, and he laughs with both embarrassment and gratitude, melts under your touch.

You feel quite tired yourself, looking forward to finally getting to bed and falling asleep entangled in his warmth. But when you walk into the room, he slips out of your arms and starts tearing off sheets from the bed with amount of energy that he frankly should not be able to produce in this state.

“Babe. What are you doing? Cum didn’t even get on the sheets, it’s fine.”

“I’m not going to sleep on sweat-covered bedsheets,” he throws an affronted look over his shoulder as he’s pulling a new sheet over the frame. “I wasn’t raised in a barn.”

You sigh and watch him silently, until he grabs a pillow.

“Thoma. Thoma, what did the pillows do to you? We haven’t even touched them.”

“It’s going to bother me if the sheets are fresh and pillowcases aren’t. *And* if they don’t match.”

“I’m starting to think I’m taking the handcuffs off you too early,” you say sourly, and he chuckles, blushing faintly.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m almost done. Just a minute.”

He is done pretty quickly, but then you catch him eyeing the heap of bedsheets on the floor.

“Baby, if you try to start laundry right now, I will have to knock you unconscious for your own good.”

“I was just going to put it into a basket…”

“NO.”

He laughs airily, lets you drag him into bed, falling down next to you.

“But you have to admit, sleeping on clean linen is so much better.”

It is pretty great, it’s fresh and cool, and smells faintly of lavender.

“It’s nice,” you concede, pulling him close.

Thoma gives absolutely the best hugs and cuddles, firm, but not restrictive, like all pyro, he emanates warmth even when he’s not using his vision, but from him, it’s a lenient sunlight, not the aggressive heat of fire. Amber-hued protective bubble where nightmares seem stupid and everything is going to be alright, a feeling normally only achievable by months of therapy, being covered in puppies or copious amounts of drugs.

“But you are still crazy. I’m going to fuck you over the counter in the morning instead of the bed, so you don’t change the sheets *again.*”

He makes a content little noise, something between a chuckle and a purr.

“And what would you like to have for breakfast? Other than me, of course.”

“I don’t really care. Other than you, of course. Surprise me, sunflower.”

#rhine writes filth #rhine writes #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #thoma smut #sub genshin #sub thoma #thoma