#cw.belly bulge

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: zhongli x male reader

req: yes | wc: 418 | cw: belly bulge, bondage, swearing

anon: zhongli with a belly bulge, and if zhongli were to disobey, the male reader would press on the bulge, making zhongli weak and regret his choice

“22, 23, 24…”

The challenge was to count from 1 to 100 before releasing. If he lost count, he had to start over. If he paused for far too long for your liking, he had to restart. If he said anything that wasn’t the next number, he had to restart.

Like the obedient god he was, he had not restarted yet. However, his counting was particularly slow, as was your thrusting.

Your pace was extremely slow, almost as if you were taunting him. Perhaps you wanted him to focus on the bulge of his belly -how big your cock was, so big that it showed externally- or the feeling of his walls around you. Whatever it was, the problem would not be the possibility of releasing before 100, but it would be his impatience.

Another problem was your unpredictability.

“25, 26, 27-!” He bites his lip, holding back a groan. When were you going to suddenly pull back fully to slam back in? He didn’t know.

“Shi-” He catches himself before he can say anything except 28.

“What was that?” Your smirk is devilish and cruel, but fuck did it turn him on.

“28.” The pleased smile you give him spurs him on. “29, 30, 31, 32!” A roll of your hips. You were really making this hard for him. If his hands weren’t bound to the bedpost, they would be gripping the bed sheets until he lost all his strength.

“33...” At this point, just a mere third into this counting, he was tired of it. Punishment would certainly not be as bad as what you’re doing to him right now, he was certain of it.

He pauses for a looong time, longer than the ‘rules’ you set.

“Darling?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve made a grave mistake.” His eyes are too busy gazing into yours, basking in their intensity and showering him in guilt. He doesn’t realize what you’re doing.

You press against the bulge on his stomach. The feeling is strange, new, and it makes him so weak. “Count again.”

“N-” The look on your face, the raised eyebrow challenging him to try it, it discourages him. Then you press again, harder and longer, in fact you don’t stop until Zhongli makes a move. “No.”

Your gaze hardens on him, and so does your finger. You make him feel weak, so weak that his legs are threatening to slip off your shoulders, so weak that the tight bindings around his wrists start burning harder than before.

“1.”

“Good.”