Im The Anon Who Sent U Those Filthy Nanami Prompts. I Have One For Geto: Youre One Of His Devoted Followers

I’m the anon who sent u those filthy nanami prompts. I have one for geto: youre one of his devoted followers in his little fake “cult”, and you’ve all made a happy little family from the shambles of pain, you and his two little girls (nanako and mimiko!) and Miguel and Laurue and Manami and whoever else I’m forgetting.

But most of the time, it’s just you and his two girls. And he sees the way you treat them as if they’re your own blood, and the righteous side of him feels guilty for seeing you in any manner that isn’t platonic, but there’s that part of him that goes wild at the thought of corrupting you, his devoted follower, who would not question anything he’d do to you, no matter how depraved it was.

And so every night he visits you and as he ruts against you and empties himself inside you, he imagines a little baby, one with both of your cursed energies, with his technique and your delicate features. He’d teach the child carefully, make sure they didn’t suffer the way he did to learn their cursed technique. Nanako and Mimiko would like having a new playmate around the house, and he can already imagine your expanded family. The desire inside him to build a new world for all of you burns brighter.

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

how did you know i literally had this fantasy of geto in mind after reading vol 0 for the first time like...this feels like its been ripped from my brain.

geto has never seen you in that light until the moment he's walking along an orchard, wind rustling and peaches in full bloom. the air is filled with the sounds of laughter, melodic and full of joy. that is when he catches sight of you and his twins lying under a tree. you tell them stories of a princess who is rescued by a prince, she's in a castle living happily ever after with the one she loves and he thinks how naive of you to believe that such stories exist; that there were 'princes' who stroll in on white horses, doing good deeds and saving the world, when in reality, humanity is so flawed and every non-curse user is an example of that. but the more he lingers on it, the more he wants to tear those walls down, show you what true love really feels like,—an all-consuming hunger, breathing you in and feasting on your soul whole—and fill your mind with ideas of a world he's building, solely for you and his girls.

to be in love isn't the priority, to be obsessed is a whole other thing and he doesn't really know the difference when he's already picturing you growing with his child. a belly full and swollen as you lay in a nest of sheets and soft things—silk fabrics draped over you, pillows tucked in under your sore spots, resting against the particularly sensitive and heavy swole of your breasts and relieving the ache in your nipples, extravagant furs keeping you away from the cold, from the stench of non-sorcerers, the tangy pulp of citrus fruit, and the sweet glaze of honey, morsels of every kind at your fingertips—there's a glow about you that lines the surface, the very edge of your silhouette. naked skin basking in warm light, you'll sleep and you'll be worshipped like this, his followers gathering at your feet to praise you and the unborn child that grows inside you, a new gift to the world as he kills, eradicates more and more of the unwanted and lays their head on an altar in a show of his loyalties tied only to you, the little thing he's found, who still believes in the folktales and the songs they sing, now a woman he's claimed for his own because that’s what love is.

once so pure and lighthearted, he is now no longer a prince, but a rotten, tainted man. menacing and shameful for wanting it so much, craving to feel you give into his touch, to see the adoration, desperation, in your eyes when he finally takes you. looking up at him like he's a god among men, what he does to you, you can't even begin to fathom the pleasure of it all, that you would never say no to him, your master.

you admire him from afar for the longest time whilst knowing and reluctantly accepting that this is as much a life with him as you will receive when you know he's got a purpose to fulfill. what would he even want with you who’s so unlike him, weak and without knowledge of anything beyond the four walls of the home he's given to you, his twins, and the makeshift family he's brought together. you haven't heard of him ever having a lover of sorts, especially not a wife. you don't think he's the type but as you watch his interactions with other women, you start to think that you wouldn't be a prospect if he were anyway, that you don't hold a candle to the other stronger, smarter, confident women. where he's giving them smiles and courteous nods, he looks to you instead with a spine-tingling gaze in his dark eyes. a sinister smile, his teeth peeking underneath like a wicked invitation—observing you with an underlying fixation.

the first time it happens he sneaks into your room with the intention to tell you how he feels, he's got a restless feeling in his chest and it has nothing to do with the countless amounts of curses he swallows and stores. he sees your sleeping figure draped in moonlight washing over you and your features, so unassuming and graceful, peacefully sleeping and laid out for him like an offering, a feast he's about to sink his teeth into. so depraved his mouth salivates and he can't stop himself. kneeling over you, his towering figure looms like a shadow as his eyes take in every inch, his fingers move under the comforter, never pulling it away in fear that you would wake from the cooling air before he traces them over the supple skin of your thighs, loving the soft touch of it.

in a swift move, he's dipping his head under the covers, wanting to get his lips on it, hands clamping around your thighs like a vice, pressing his fingers into your flesh, already losing himself in the smell of your skin, the heat radiating from you. his lips graze in a light stroke over your stomach as you start to stir from your sleep, opening an eye just in time to see, to feel his tongue licking a stripe up your slit.

letting out a gasp, your head falls back to hit the pillows, you try to push him away, hands coming up to his shoulder, your feet kicking, not fully aware of what was happening but he's unyielding. keeping your legs spread for him, you want to hide it from his view, that he shouldn't be looking at the most private parts of you, this was a man who you'd care for, he was a leader, the most powerful person in a room, it wasn't right.

with a whisper, his dark voice soothes you, "shh...stay still." he's inching his tongue deeper past your folds, tasting you for the first time and groaning when he feels your grip tighten in his hair. you start to whimper when his mouth feels so hot, his tongue so plush and wet. his lips suck your clit in, nibbling on it while his tongue flicks, nose swiping up and down your sopping cunt, rubbing until you start to shake and tremble.

you're giving into him, slowly succumbing to bliss, how good it feels when he's licking faster, you're smothering his face in between your thighs, clamping on both the sides of his head, your feet in the air and toes curling from the sensation. you're squirming from the vibrations when he's humming in between your tight crevice. “you taste like heaven.”

it builds and builds, that coiling in your stomach, when he's bringing a finger up in between your asscheeks, circling that tight hole, your flowing juice helping him ease his way in deeper, it feels so dirty, so vulgar—wrong, and yet, your heart beats so quickly in your chest, ears going hot, sweat perspiring over your skin over something that feels so good. so much so your eyes roll back instinctively and you don’t know if you’re prepared for it.

for a tingle that shoots up your spine, sparks flashing behind your eyelids, drowning him in your slick, and when your orgasm crashes in you're biting down on your lip hard to stop your moans from being heard, breaking the skin, blood pooling under your teeth. still, he doesn't stop, you're gripping his hair, feeling oversensitive and overwhelmed, it's too much. every drop he's lapping up, not wanting to waste the sweet nectar that drools from you.

when your orgasm recedes, you catch your breath, looking up to the ceiling for an answer to what just happened. he comes into view when he leans over you, his eyes trailing down your body with greed, his hair is a mess from where your hands have clutched, lips and chin glistening with so much of your need you start to feel embarrassed by it all. one moment you were dreaming of him as an honoured man with his kind words and paternal ways and the next moment he's making you cum and writhe against his tongue. you wish to tell him that you didn't mean to be so impure or that you actually...really liked it. longed for it but never had the words to say. a lump in your throat gets caught, your eyes start to water, you think he's going to be upset, be disappointed that his loyal follower was overcome by her most basic of urges. reality hits you square in the face when his voice breaks through the silence, loud and clear. "we're not done." he growls.

as he undoes his robe, you're so tempted to run your hands over his trim muscles, only ever having a peek at them when he returned from missions with an injury or once when you accompanied him to teach the twins how to swim by a lake. the fabric sweeps over his shoulders to reveal a body so solid, made from years of fighting, training, and just age—the scars lining the ridges of his obliques, the veins from his famous healing hands now running up his forearms like rivers, the broad expanse of his chest so large your hand would barely cover one of his pecs—now looking completely and utterly debauched and wanting more, all from seeing you come apart with just his tongue. you did that to him.

you muster up the courage to reach out to him, releasing that knot across his middle and watching the last of his coverings fall away, undressing him completely. now bare before you, on the edge of the bed, he’s hard, thick, jutting straight up with a dollop of precum beading at the tip. your eyes going wide as you took in his impressive size. you always thought that it would be this gnarled and monstrous thing but looking at it now, it was...perfect. smooth and firm, with a vein running up the side. his hand reached down and gripped his throbbing cock, stroking the length of it, thumb rubbing over the head. you could see the pure unadulterated lust in his eyes as he stared at you with this kind of primal hunger, waiting for your next move.

leaning back on your elbows, you see his breath hitch as he could only stare when your smooth, glistening lips came into his view. puffy and desperate for him. "t-take me." you whispered, watching as he shuddered at your admission. "take what belongs to you."

and with a growl, he pulls you in with not much resistance on your end, a delicate thing compared to his large stature. like a rag doll, he lifts your hips in his grip before plunging his pulsing cock into your depths, feeling your heat wrap around his swollen cockhead as he sank deeper, warm, hot, raw and so tight were your walls sliding down the length of his shaft. you're stunned at the sheer size of him, stretching you wide and he's not even halfway in. what you had thought would be something quick, fast, him taking what he wanted from you, getting a taste of the most intimate parts of you, and then leaving, was quickly devolving into something far more. something this man was bringing out in you.

his weight pinned you into the soft duvet of the bed, your hard nipples scraping across his chest as his hips slowly rose and fell, languidly pushing and pulling, relishing in that fullness and letting it sweep through you again and again.

"that’s it, you feel that?" his hoarse voice echoed in your ear. "feel my love for you." instinctively your arms wrapped around his back, nails digging into his shoulder blades, nearly drawing blood. knowing that if he kept this up, he would have to do a lot more to heal the impressions dug into his skin.

the moment your legs slid around his waist, hooking your ankles together behind his lower back and heels digging into him with every stroke, you could start to hear voices gathering outside. that they were whispering amongst one another, wondering what could possibly be the reason you were moaning and mewling like a whore, but right then, neither one of you had cared who heard. you wouldn’t have wanted him to stop and a few nosy passersby is hardly a reason for him to stop fucking you into oblivion.

"m-master!" you screamed in surprise when you feel his cockhead bumping on the opening of your cervix. loving the feel of your soaked walls, inch by inch he dragged his cock back as his shaft grated across your sensitive clit before he’s bruising his way in again, hitting that spot that makes you see stars. "w-what is that?" you groaned.

“right here?" he rumbled, punctuating his words with next thrust, “that’s where i’ll make you a mommy." your eyes flared in response, mind going numb, wanting it so much it aches, turning more and more into his plaything, now fully submitting to him. the heavy scent of sex filled the air, he’s defiled you to the point of no return. in your fucked-out, mindless state you picture his seed filling you up, rooting in your core and it turning into something beautiful, a child with unlimited power and gifts, his child, it ignites that blazing knot in you again.

"i-i love it so much" you whined, voice curling into a high-pitched wail. "please keep doing that...it feels so good." you told him, urging him on as he starts pounding into you rigorously. his hips pistoning as he drove deeper into your trembling body, already feeling the boiling in his balls every time they slapped against your ass.

his hips drove hard down, lodging himself there, the tip lingering at the opening of your fertile womb, you could feel his balls beginning to release when your tight walls are squeezing down on him. "i-i’m gonna cum." you stutter over your words.

“do it, for me.” he demands, a hand coming up to your throat and curling around it, fingers pressing into your jugular, constricting your airways, going breathless. you opened your mouth in a silent scream as drool seeped from one corner, your head thrashing against your pillow. tears springing forth as his final thrust sent off an explosion. your nails raking down his back as your body writhed under him, eyes rolling back in your head, juices leaking all over your thighs as you gushed around him.

you felt his hot seed erupt inside you, painting your walls. the pulsing heat in your belly setting off the second wave of raw pleasure, him smirking down at you experiencing your first multiple orgasm. shaking and trembling violently, you stare up at him, his face a mask of sheer animalistic instinct, ravaging and satisfied that there was no going back.

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

some added thoughts here:

this isn't a concubine situation like geto isn't just fucking every woman who lives with him because these followers of his he respects and cares for, but you being the one who's taken care of his twins, saw through his evil-stricken ways, and forgives him for it, so devoted, loyal, who had claimed his heart long before he did yours just by being a kindness, a weakness in his gloomy, formidable nature. he wants you. so wrapped up in his ideals of this perfect child there is no way he isn't fucking you every night until you're pregnant. even after then, he's still pouring himself into your swollen belly because he can.

just so much breeding...you get addicted to it, to the way it pools inside you, hot and lewd, branding you as his. "breed me daddy, give me your baby." you whimper as your eyes go cloudy, staring up at him and pleading for it.

he groans at the sight of you like this, falling in love with him a little more, "look at you...how you're begging for it. nothing but a little cumwhore." with a grunt, he feels the last of his balls empty into your tight hole, his cock throbbing along your walls as your head falls back, feeling another thick rope flooding you, so much cum pumping inside it oozes out around him and down the crack of your ass, making a puddle on the duvet under you.

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

you feeding off his contagious pride and ego, then turning into a little threatening, venomous thing yourself. glowing and feeling so proud that hes chosen you. that geto suguru has you alone in his arms, growling into your neck and kissing your lips like he wants to take your breath away, eating up your moans as you squeeze down on his entire length, reveling in the knowledge that it's all yours.

you give her a lecherous stare, a woman who has caught you and him in the middle of the act through a sliver of an opening by the fusuma. she could not believe the scene before her. their master, naked and defenseless, his back faced towards her, only getting a glimpse of his clenching muscles, the strangled noises escaping him with each rise and fall of hip hips, how he's holding you up like you weigh nothing. there's a line of your juices flowing, droplets falling to the mat below you, hitting the floor with loud plops.

it was easy to tell who held the reins here. despite your positions, the predatory look on your face said otherwise, the fact that it was their master, who was a force of nature, who had never lost a fight, now wholly submitting to you in full view. you raise your voice a little higher, eyeing her as he pumps his cock deeper, faster. wanting her to hear it, see it for herself.

you give her a cruel smirk. once naive, you now do nothing now to feign innocence, pretending that you don't know exactly what you're doing. taunting, luring her in and she can't look away from you. with a sharp glare, curling a hand possessively around his neck, your face clearly reads: 'he's mine.'

leaning in to kiss him, you feel him smile in lieu of saying what he knows. that a sorcerer like him would have felt her presence from a mile away, how you're playing this game with him. he loves it, isn't bothered by your jealousy when it's what makes you reach down to rub his cum over your clit before having it cream over your fingers, bringing it to your lips and sucking them off, licking them clean.

10:00 PM

You had agreed to meet him in your dorm room at 10 p.m.

It's half-past eight, and you've been alone with your thoughts for far too long. There were no messages, not even from your friends. Of course, it's not because they dislike you. Everyone is just too preoccupied with final exams right now. You should probably study for yours, but you believe the three days you've spent cooped up in your room have prepared you enough, if not too much.

The internet connection in the dorm building is agonizingly slow, allowing your show to run at 480 frames per second.

I can’t even finish this god damned episode.

You made the decision to leave your room before going insane. There’s a lounge on the second floor of your building, so you decided to head there.

The room has bean bags, couches, a table, some seats, a vending machine, and a TV. It's nine in the evening, you've had your dinner, so you've settled on some chips. You chose to sit on the brown leather couch in front of the TV, your legs resting on the sofa's arms. Because students aren't allowed to change the channel, you're stuck watching the news.

Well, it’s not like I have anything better to do.

A couple of minutes later, two students enter the room. They're giggling all the way to the table, their arms locked. You give them a quick glance before averting your gaze to avoid drawing unwanted attention to yourself. You return your gaze to the television and see a man being arrested for drug use in a bar's staff room.

Soon enough, the giggles become too loud, interfering with your ability to watch in peace.

Can’t they fucking do this someplace else?

You glance at the couple and see them eating each other’s faces out. But instead of being more frustrated, your mind wanders over a certain boy.

The two of you had no label for whatever you two had. Just people who are more than friends but less than lovers. It's not like you were keeping it from everyone or your friends. You had just agreed to keep it that way. The reason for so, though, was uncertain. Perhaps out of fear? Fear of what others would say, or fear that if you made it known to everyone and things went bad, it would be absolutely embarrassing. But maybe you both just wanted each other for yourself. Who knows.

He isn't unpopular. Girls are definitely lining up for him. When he gets tired of you, it won't be long before there's a replacement for you right by his side. The most daunting aspect of it all is that you already have a female candidate in mind for the position. She's been suspicious of you both ever since she saw you holding hands in a café. She's also very attractive. And smart. And incredibly fucking kind. That is the most upsetting aspect of it all. She’s a sweet girl. She’s known him since freshman year and developed a much-too-obvious crush on him.

You admit that in some aspects, she’s definitely better than you.

Hell, if I were him, I’d choose her.

So tonight, you think. Think of where he is. Is she there by his side, as she should be? Is he entertaining her? Is she making him happy? These awful thoughts linger in your mind for the remainder of your stay in the dorm lounge, with the TV playing in the background and the giggles of that damned couple who prompted this dilemma.

Fuck, it’s quarter to ten. I’m gonna be late.

And so he runs.

He’s been at the bar since 5. As a reward for finishing the exam, a group of his classmates invited everyone out for a drink. Mr. Congeniality that he is, he gladly joins in. The girl he’s known since freshman year sticks by his side. She’s nice, he thinks. However, a distinct image of someone comes to mind. He glances at his watch, which reads 8:30 p.m.

To be honest, he's tired of it. The party, the people, and the beverages. All he can think about right now is leaving this bar and going back to their dorm. Eating take-out together, watching random Youtube videos on their bed, and keeping them close enough to smell that fresh coconut shampoo they use that he loves so much. But it would be too weird.

Because they aren't his significant other, arriving early would be too obvious. He clearly likes them more than he's letting on. But he's not sure how much longer he can go on like this. Clandestine meetings and longing gazes. He wants to walk around campus with them, post pictures of their dates, and let everyone know that he already belongs to someone else.

The bartender's yell snaps him out of his trance. He tries to approach the commotion to find out what's going on, leaving his spot and the girl behind. He stands on his toes as he sees one of his classmates being dragged out by the bouncers. Soon after, sirens and the all-too-familiar red and blue lights appear. He learns from others that the man who was just dragged out and is now being arrested was doing drugs in the staff room. Fucking moron. Now he really wants to go.

He goes outside to wait for a cab. But so is everyone else. And, being the gentleman that he is, he allows everyone to hail a cab first. Moments later, the girl who had been by his side earlier approaches him and asks if he wants to share a cab with her because they live close together. He refuses, claiming that he has someone waiting for him. Which is a lie, and in retrospect, a better option than where he is now.

Running.

Waiting for a cab made the time fly quickly, and now he was running late. He really doesn't want to let them down and make them feel unimportant. They were so far away from it. If they had texted him and he was on the other side of the world, he would immediately book a flight to meet them.

He calls them, hoping they'll understand that he'll be late. Unfortunately, he only gets a dial tone. He tries again and comes up short. He considers calling them again, but this may be too clingy of him.

So he keeps running until he sees that familiar building, which strangely makes him smile. In his mind, he laughs at how mundane things have become extraordinary simply because of them.

You are startled awake. Shit, I fell asleep. When you look at the time, it's five to ten. You make your way quickly out of the lounge, shaking your head as you pass the couple passed out by the bean bags. And, to make matters worse, the elevator is being repaired. As a result, you begin your journey by ascending several flights of stairs.

By the time you make it to your floor, you’re completely out of breath.

I probably look fucking insane right now.

You make your way to your room to prepare for a bit before he comes. However, the universe had other plans for you.

Just when you turned towards the hallway where your dorm is, he stood there, almost mirroring your condition. He's heaving, his hair is stuck to his brow, and his hands are on his knees.

You take a few tentative steps forward. He looks up, sees you, and smiles. You do the same and ask as to why he looks tired.

"I- uh, used the stairs because your elevator wasn't working," he says, not making eye contact with you, which usually means he's lying. But you remain silent and hum in agreement.

You nod towards your door, inviting him to enter and follow you.

If I told them I ran from the bar, I’m actually fucked. Whipped son of a bitch.

He follows them in and heads straight for their bed. He believes that this bed is softer than the expensive one he has at home and that it must feel like a cloud.

Like routine, they head to the bathroom to freshen up, and he looks for a shirt of his in their drawer. While waiting, he sets up the movie and orders some food.

They emerge from the bathroom, and he believes it would be fine if he died right now. He doesn't mind if he ends up in hell because he's already seen an angel.

They settle in the bed, with him enclosing them in their arms.

“How was your day?” He asks, trying to beat the awkward silence.

“It was alright. I was busy all night studying.”

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking.. Uh, where did you come from when I saw you in the hallway?”

Their eyes seem to widen a bit as if caught in the act. “Oh, I just gave my friend my notes at the lobby.”

With no energy to pry further, he nods and moves to turn the movie volume up.

As the credits roll, you turn your head to face the body that is enclosing yours. He's fast asleep with his arm around your waist.

You admire him in this way, but you think it's too domestic. But you'd give anything to sleep every night and wake up to this every morning. But you know all too well that by the time the sun rises, like clockwork, he will rise and move so as not to wake you, but you always are.

With eyes closed, you silently beg for him not to go, and just this once, to stay. To hear him say he feels the same way you do and that all your doubts were just you rationalizing.

He is jolted awake by that familiar alarm. He carefully gets out of bed and never forgets the part of his routine of looking at you asleep, a picture that will stay with him all day. He notices the polaroid picture of you two on the night you met as he grabs his shirt from the top of your drawer. As he gazes out the window, he decides to be brave and make an exception today.

He returns beside you, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in your neck. And, ever so gently, he says,

“Just tell me you love me already. Please, please, please."

Heard in Mondstadt (#40)

Fischl: Thy mother is so obtuse, she postulates that Barbatos is a hilichurl!

Bennett: Joke’s on you, I don’t have a mom!

Fischl: Fine! Thy father is so—

Bennett: Which one??

Fischl: Why art thou immune to all my parental witticisms!?!

Just an idea for Genshin cult au enthusiasts also spoilers to Enkanomiya:

-For starters let’s tackle the Creator. From the recent world quest and the new lore added with the new area. Supposedly long before Celestia came to be, Teyvat is ruled under one nation, one culture and what not. So just imagine that the ruler of this one unified nation is what is now known as the ‘Creator’.

-Then Celestia came and started colonizing Teyvat via waging war to its one nation and the Creator. The Creator died in the war and the nation was scattered/destroyed. Ever since then the Creator persistently tried to get back to Teyvat to reclaim it and unified it once more but Celestia keeps intervening resulting with many civilizations destroyed.

-How is it that the Creator keeps coming back when they died in the war? Because the Creator is The Creator. The original god of Teyvat, after the creation of Teyvat the Creator stayed and ruled over their people. No ones has ever tried to usurp the Creator so Celestia’s violent approach came as an unpleasant and devastating surprise. Even if the Creator is powerful they have absolutely no experience in fighting. But they are a God when they ‘died’ they simply sent their soul to another world to heal and gather back their strength.

-Why do they keep losing? They are too much of a pacifist. Ever since from the beginning they know nothing but peace. They never really dwell on the much more violent side of their power. They do however created the seven dragon lords sovereign to help them run the nation. They have about 80% of the Creator’s power and their sole purpose is to protect the people. Celestia used that against them and lost.

-Why did they lost when they are almost as powerful as the creator? They were too busy protecting the people because Celestia keeps bombarding them with attacks that could easily kill the weaker and frailer beings. Before they knew it, Celestia already slain the Creator. The dragon lords retreated when they felt the creator’s death. Cursing humanity and blaming them for the Creator’s death.

-The Creator made themselves reborn as a human to lay low. They have live countless lifetimes as a human and because of that they have gotten quite attach to their human lifestyle. When they came back to Teyvat, they took care of laying low and see what Celestia had done to their beloved world. In the process of that, they had created Khaenriah. Then Celestia destroyed that too and ever since the Creator never came back.

-What did Celestia do after the Creator’s first death? They erase all traces of the Creator by creating false fables and history or just outright destroying any traces of them. It is for the hope that it will lessen the power of the Creator believing that worship and belief is the one powering them but it is not the case. When Celestia came to this conclusion they opted to destroy whichever nation the Creator decided to hide in or nurture/build.

-Because ultimately the Creator is a creator, a farmer that plant seeds and nurture their field to grow. They are not a destroyer and never will be because it is not them. They do not govern over destruction but their creation do. Their creation have the capacity to destroy and fight back, they just needed time but Celestia will not allow them that. It is merely a bonus that this indiscriminate genocide made the Creator hesitant to come back.

-When they learn of Khaenriah and how close they are to waging war against Celestia or taking back Teyvat. They have grown wary. Celestia then decided to fight fire with fire. They let the little nation be and instead created the Archon War to hinder its development because surely the Creator wouldn’t let Teyvat suffer through this bloodshed. To Celestia’s displeasure, the tiny realm in which Khaenriah resided were sealed off from their eyes by Teyvat itself, making the gods of Celestia and the Creator ignorant of each other’s actions.

-A faux war created to smoke out the Creator from their lair turn into a real devastating one.

-Celestia and Teyvat were in a stand still with Celestia brewing more chaos and bloodshed and Teyvat enduring it all for the sake of its Creator. Celestia out of pure desperation to get to the Creator decided to open the ‘gates’ by that I mean they decided to make people believe and worship the Creator. Celestia hoped that the countless prayers of the people on Teyvat will coax the Creator out. Unknowing of the fact that the Creator is now human and thus doesn’t have the same capabilities of a god.

-The Creator now known as Eclipse, the first ruler and founder of Khaenriah, took great care of the nation. They make sure that they will never end up like the rest by giving them knowledge and wisdom and the determination to now bow to any god. The only one who knew of the full truth is their sole confidant, their first pupil, Gold. When the Creator perish due to their now human lifespan, Gold planned to conquer the above ground as a last gift for her mentor and parental figure. For her only God.

-When the war concluded and the seal that protected Khaenriah was torn down, both Teyvat and Celestia, depleted of power, have learn the truth of the Creator. Teyvat is content and happy that it finally protected its Creator, even though they still somewhat died. (at least this time they died happy) Teyvat went to a long hibernation to recover from its ‘fight’ with Celestia.

-Meanwhile Celestia felt cheated. Their nemesis and ‘rival’ decided to be human and for what?! Filled with rage and pettiness, they gave the Gnosis to the winners of the war with the intent to corrupt its bearer with a twisted sort of worship to the Creator and a last verdict ‘Kill anyone that dare wore their face’.

-Celestia is determine to show to the Creator that they aren’t human and will never be one. Once the Creator got that beaten up in their human form and finally go back to their godly glory, they will once again enact the olden days. Where they will baptized the lands with the crimson blood of the nation they nurture and their own golden ichor.

-First they have to deal with this one, “The pride of humanity”. Pathetic.

Can’t stop thinking of Eren fucking you and staring at your bouncing tits, he’s so in love with you.

“Your tits are perfect,” he mumbles.

You cup them, make them jiggle a little more with every needy, desperate thrust. Eren almost loses it right then and there. “Thanks, I know.”

“Cool. Just wanted to make sure.”

😩😩🥵🥵🥵💕💕💕💕

i know it doesn’t fit in with the vibes of the era that inazuma is based on but consider ayato having an outlander spouse from somewhere like monstadt that does have a corset-adjacent kind of dress . . . he seems the kind who’d like it laced just a little too tightly and hearing you get breathless and seeing your eyelashes flutter when he dies fuck you in it.

as an actual royal guard dain also fits the ‘knight helping a royal lace their corset’ so well . . . so strong and silent and reliable . . . and though some memories fade, the laces in his hands are still as familiar as ever even if you’re (prettier, more wantable, more his) different from the royal family he once served. he will still serve you. unlacing the corset is just as familiar.

diluc helping you get dressed, dismissing your ladies maid . . . the ribbons of your corset are always needing replacements; the maids just don’t understand how they get scorched so often—

and. of course. zhongli. taking his slow, careful time with it all. lingering on every tightening and every loosening; his desire to manage you a little extending to dressing and undressing you even if it will in the end be only for his eyes.