𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭 | 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬|𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐱/𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢

Summary:
He's no longer the benevolent deity you thought you knew. If Morax wants you, he'll have you– whether you like it or not.

»»————> ♡ <————««

Under the protection of the adepti, the shrine you were born and raised in was one of the very few places where one could find peace in such brutal times.

Built on the rising borough of Liyue Harbor, it served as a sanctuary and a home to the Lord of Geo, and as one of its maidens, your duty was to welcome him with open arms and an abundance of food offerings on the rare occasions he returned from the battlefield.

But not once had it crossed your mind that, instead of worshipping him as if he were some distant deity, Morax would rather have you on your knees to take his cock to the back of your throat.

He'd much rather have you surrender yourself to him than spoil him with meaningless oblations, allowing him to feast on your body instead of an overdone dish he'd already eaten countless times in his century-long lifetime.

Your sisters' late-night escapades with the warlord were a secret well kept, and you had always been too clueless to entertain the possibility of Morax not being above having carnal desires. In your eyes, he was nothing more than a deity in the vessel of a man— surely something as shallow as sex didn't matter to him.

But it did. After losing the only person he'd ever come to love, drowning his pain with booze and women had become a means of preserving whatever sanity he had left.

You knew Morax had changed, but when your interactions with him were so sparse and impersonal, you just assumed the ongoing war was taking a toll on him. This wasn't entirely wrong, but there was a reason why nobody was allowed to speak of Guizhong after she died.

Her passing was what caused the fire in Morax's eyes to dim and his smiles to lose their genuineness. He waged war on his enemies not to protect his people, but to quell the hatred lashing at the walls of his heart; It was only when the warlord stained his hands with the blood of his foes or intoxicated himself in the charms of a woman that he felt anything other than hollowness.

So Morax bedded the priestess who'd devoted their lives to him, one after another, until he met you. And it didn't take long before you became an object of his lecherous obsession.

Your clothes left too much to his imagination, the slightest flash of skin whenever your skirt rode up a little too high being enough to send his mind to the gutter. The chaste endearment in your eyes, too, was a blatant invitation for Morax to come and ruin you.

It was maddening how you seemed to be constantly lingering just outside of his reach— always eager to see him but not once acknowledging his advances. He knew it came from a place of naivete, but his patience would only last so long.

Morax even had someone send you down to his chambers one time, hoping your defenses would crumble and you'd quit pushing him away for once. Like a deer creeping into the den of a wolf, fear strained your lips into a smile that hardly reached your eyes as you entered the room.