#genshin x dom!reader

[brayneworms]

shoot it up (straight to the heart).

featuring. childe/reader

word count. 5.7k

content. merc!reader, drinking, kissing, masochist!childe because i am not immune to that agenda, sparring, gender neutral reader, childe is a little shit, blood, finger sucking, biting, handjobs, hair pulling, one instance of degradation (whore), light begging and light crying.

synopsis. childe has always found you fascinating; now that his stint in liyue is up and he's scheduled to return to snezhnaya, he takes the opportunity to get something from you he's wanted for months.

notes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, i check the notes and you will be blocked.

"Ahh, the scourge of the complacent! Fancy seeing you here on a night like tonight."

You tip your eyes up to the ceiling of the inn; his voice rings out clear as bells over the chatter and rowdiness, and maybe it's a mark of your attunement to his specific brand of irksomeness that you hear the bounce of his footsteps approach over the general cacophony of laughter and drinks slamming.

There are four empty stools at the bar. He takes the one right next to you, sliding home with a boyish grin. You scratch at your forehead with all the fatigue of a working mother-of-five, catch the bartender's eye, and silently flag down another drink.

Tartaglia whistles as you raise the cup to your lips, making you pause; mead sops against your mouth, burning against raw picked skin. "I see even the alcohol of Liyue is no match for you, scourge."

"Don't call me that," you say flatly, and knock the cup back. There isn't enough booze in this whole tavern to make this a bearable conversation, but at least you could soften the edges. If you got drunk enough, you might be able to pretend he was nothing more than a lurid ginger mosquito buzzing around your head for attention.

Attention you always seemed to grant, no matter how much you swear you'll ignore him.

"Your lovely friend at the funeral parlour told me I might find you here," Tartaglia continues talking even though you're staring at the ceiling praying for patience. "She's pretty fond of you, huh? Can't imagine why, with your prickly attitude—oh, barkeep, I'll have what they're having, please." He flashes a pearly grin at the bartender, who pours him a cup of mead.

"Did you come here just to bother me?" you grit out, staring at the dregs in your cup; it sloshes darkly amongst the dull silver, and you can see a glimmer of a reflection, your eye staring back at you.

"What an ego you sport!" Tartaglia sounds righteously offended. "I came here to drink." And as if to prove his point, he raises his cup to his lips and takes a deep gulp. You can see his pale throat flex as he swallows, the bob of bones beneath papery skin.

He coughs a little as he sets the cup back down, empty. You try not to let your surprise show on your face.

"Liyue mead has quite the burn," Tartaglia comments. "You'd think I'd be used to it after being weaned on that Snezhnyan paint-thinner, but what can I say? This place has a kick."

He leans back on his barstool, a vaguely soft, wistful look passing over his features. Then he says, "I'll certainly miss it."

The cup slips from your fingers, and you curse yourself. "You're leaving?"

Tartaglia smiles, a little sadly. "The Tsaritsa summoned me back. I'll have to take off by the end of the week."

"No shit?" Tartaglia's been posted here and bothering you for way longer than you arrived to act as a temporary guard for the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour. You weren't sure why such a place needed extra beef with security, but it paid well, and Hu Tao and Zhongli were well-meaning employers and good company, so you could hardly complain. That was the beauty of freelance, after all.

"Oh? You sound disappointed." Tartaglia leans forward, cupping his chin in his hand; his eyes find yours, gleaming in the low light. "What? Don't tell me you're going to miss me?"

You glare at him. "Do people miss the mosquitoes they swat when they're buzzing around their head?"

"You always act like I'm vermin," Tartaglia pouts. "Still, you're having a drink with me—I consider that a victory."

"One of your few," you toast, raising your cup, and Tartaglia's playful expression sullens a touch, like a cloud covering up the sun. "Oh, don't get all kicked-puppy on me. Thought you could take a little pain."

"Better than you know," Tartaglia says with a stunning return to form and a coy grin. You must be just tipsy enough to entertain him, because you don't seize a handful of his bright hair and ram his face into the bar like you briefly consider doing. There wouldn't be much in it for you beyond the satisfying crack of bone and yelp of pain. As for Tartaglia, he'd probably get off on it.

You both down another cup, and now the lines that make up the tavern are starting to blur pleasantly. There's a soft, fuzzy feeling filling you up, like you're made of cotton instead of flesh and blood and magic. A faint flush has made itself known on Tartaglia's cheekbones, lurid against his hair, illuminating the scatter of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He's surprisingly lightweight, for as hard as you known Snezhnayan liquor to be.

"Would you walk with me?" Tartaglia holds your eye like he's making a promise, though not to you. He says half the things he says like he's talking to someone else, someone you cannot see. He holds out a gloved hand, grinning. "C'mon. I want to show you something."

Your brows knit up, suspicious. "Why me?"

"I'm currently not speaking to any of my other friends," Tartaglia says haughtily. "Sneaks and liars, all of 'em. As, uh, disarming as you are, scourge, at least you're honest. So... c'mon. Humour a man's last wish."

"You're not dying," you say acidly, but you get up. Tartaglia grins, delighted, sweeping up his coat from the barstool and paying out. You follow him out of the tavern; Liyue comes alive at night, you think, the harbour glimmering with a thousand lights, the water lapping at the chalky walls. Tartaglia takes your hand as the tavern door swings shut behind you. He runs warm, and you can see freckles spiralling up his wrist, and before you can protest he's started a brisk pace away from the water.

"The hell?" you mutter, making a weak attempt at taking your arm back. "Hey. Tartaglia. Where are we going?"

"So formal," he calls over his shoulder. "You can call me Childe, you know."

"Like that's even your real name," you roll your eyes. "What difference does it make?"

"Hm. Tartaglia feels more like a title. It's the name I use when I want to intimidate, you know?" He looks over his shoulder at you, the dull blue of his eyes catching in the moonlight. "I'm not foolish enough to think I could ever intimidate you, of all people."

And when he says that, it feels like a compliment. You curse the hot prickling you can feel at the backs of your ears as he leads you through town, up near where the mountains crest. It's all rickety ladders and bridges for a while before you come to a plane nestled between two great rocks. Grass and gravel spill out beneath your feet; in the middle of the wobbly circle is a wooden training dummy with chunks carved out of it. Torches bracket the space, filling the night with shifting bronze light.

It occurs to you briefly that Childe could be luring you out here to kill you, but just as easily the notion flees. He might be Fatui, and he might be insufferable, but the two of you have no real grievances as far as you know.

Besides—you're stronger. And the both of you know it.

You sweep a flat look around the circle and raise a brow. “Homey.”

Childe giggles. “You���re always so sharp-tongued, scourge. I’ve been reflecting on my stint in Liyue in light of everything, you know? What with my leaving so soon. I remembered the first time I saw you fight.”

Your brows draw up, taken aback; this is not a sentiment he has shared with you before. He paces as he talks, starts gesticulating like he’s trying to stir up a wind, though the night is virtually breezeless. Warm and damp and encapsulating. A line of sweat encroaches under your collar. 

“Some treasure-hoarders, they made a chokepoint out in the Guili Planes to intercept traders going down the road,” he tells you, as if this is news. “Zhongli asked me to deal with them myself, ‘cause they were stopping import to the city. But as soon as I got up there to scout it out, I saw you. What you’d left, anyway. This… trail. Like this—this big patch of carnage and you just in the middle of it, going blade-to-blade with this monster of a thief twice your size. Would you believe I was almost arrogant enough to think you needed my help?” His eyes shine feverishly, the moonlight catching off dead-fish-blue. “You brought him to heel like a misbehaving dog. He gave you a bloody nose and you just—just wiped at it like it was nothing. Didn’t it hurt? Always wanted to know if it hurt.”

“It hurt,” you manage, frozen with shock. He’s getting entirely too het-up too quickly, feverish in his excitement, pale cheeks flushed wine-red, and he moves closer as he waves his hands, eyes locked onto you like he’s a dog and you’re his master. It makes your blood feel too thick and too hot in your veins. 

“Thought so,” he breathes. “Thought it must’ve. It kinda… it sings, though. Doesn’t it?”

Stuck, you nod, though you only half understand what he’s talking about. 

Apparently satiated, Childe rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "Hah, sorry. You really get me talking, scourge."

"Don't give me the credit," you mumble. "It's one of your natural talents."

"Wanna see another one of my natural talents?" Childe grins; at your sharp look, he raises his hands placatingly, smile stretching ever wider. "I meant fighting, of course. C'mon. Truthfully, I've been thinking about it ever since that day. Fighting you."

He says that—fighting you—with the same sort of soft reverence one might reserve for making love or worshipping a deity. Like it's the centre of his world, the cell his heart was born from. You wonder how long it's been since Childe's days were anything but fighting, then reckon that that's probably a deliberate choice.

When he holds out a blunt wooden training staff out to you, his hands are perfectly steady. You heft it in your grip, getting used to the weight and balance. You're more accustomed to knives and swords, and small blades you can slip into your boot or belts, but you're not unfamiliar with polearms, exactly.

"Feel good?"

You jump; Childe's pressed closer to you in the time it took to examine your new weapon, and his words are accompanied with a brush of warm air across the back of your ear. "It's okay."

"Good! I want you at top form for this." He slopes off, twirling his own staff between gloved fingers obnoxiously. It makes a faint whistling sound against the warm night air. "Think you're ready?"

"Ready?" You can't help but sneer. "I don't need to be ready to fight a pest. I just do it."

Childe's grin is so wide that the flushed apples of his cheeks turn pointy. "Alright, killer. I've been looking forward to this for a while, and, y'know, I dunno when the next time is I'll meet someone as interesting as you... so don't disappoint me, yeah?"

The first crack of your staffs together sings.

It's an old melody, one you're attuned to, one you think you were born with. Impact shivers up your bones, disturbs the skin in a railroad of gooseflesh, sets your teeth on edge. There's the anticipation, the moment right before the new sensation turns uncomfortable or painful, like pressing down on a bruise, the moment before it starts hurting. The staffs gnash together like wooden teeth.

"You're quick," Childe says approvingly as you draw your arm back to your side, circling him in short steps. His eyes follow the lines of your body like he's trying to set you alight. You're not sure why you're doing this, actually—your relationship with Childe has been nothing but tepid the whole time he's been stinted in Liyue. From your end, anyways. He tends to sort of follow you around like a lost puppy when he has free time. No matter how many times you smack him and send him reeling, he always comes back with a bone clamped between his teeth, looking for fun.

A drink, a fuck. A fight. Maybe it's all sort of the same to him.

Your fight is a dance; Childe is undeniably skilled, and polearms aren't your first choice of weapon, so it's a fairly even fight despite your strength. Several times he moves far too quickly for you to comprehend—like you blink and he's shifted with the moonlight, gone from in front to behind you in a second. Laughing, poking, teasing until your blood is boiling despite the cold.

When you finally land a hit on him, it's sweet. Your staff cracks across his jaw with all the force of his annoyance to you over the last months, and Childe barely has time to widen his eyes before he crashes to the dirt. He lets out a pained grunt as he plants into the earth, and just as you're opening your mouth to gloat—

"Again."

It cracks into the night air like the crash of your staff against his jaw, pursed between wheezing breaths. His voice sings like cut piano strings, dissonant against what is happening. You stand over him, breathing hard, brow cinched as he sprawls in the dirt.

He's got chalky soil all over his pretty light uniform. He doesn't seem to care. Dull blue eyes blink up at you, round as pennies; you can see an angry welt raising on his jaw where your blow had made contact, flaring up scarlet against the pale skin. No doubt it will have flowered into a nasty bruise tomorrow, something the colour of overripe lavender melon.

But Childe grins.

You stumble back, frowning hard, and Childe makes a noise at the back of his throat as he sees you retreat. He scrambles messily to his feet, brushing dirt carelessly from his clothes.

"What?"

Childe cradles his jaw with a hiss. "You pack a punch. But I'm not done yet."

"You said again." You eye him warily, arms still not raised. "What did you..."

He huffs a laugh with a return of that boyish grin. "Ah, caught that, did you? I guess you could say I have a certain admiration for people who can land a hit on me. It's impressive. You're impressive."

Before you can decide whether he's swelteringly egotistical or just a pervert who gets off on pain, Childe lunges, swinging his sparring spear overhead; you shriek and parry it last-minute, your grip faltering enough that the wooden shafts collide with a harsh thwack; you don't fend the blow off completely thanks to your shoddy reaction time, but you manage to avoid getting struck in the head.

"Asshole," you grit out, stumbling left a few paces to get your bearings again; Childe circles you, twirling his spear between deft fingers with a sharp grin.

"I sensed your attention wandering," he shrugs. "You think you can hit me again?"

Your chin juts out, indignant. "Yeah. I'm stronger."

Beneath his lurid red hair, Childe's cheeks colour faintly. "Prove it, killer. Lemme feel it. Hit me—"

And he lunges, spear cracking through the air; this time, you're ready for it, seeing the telltale twitches of his body getting into formation before the pounce. You dodge his first hit, sending the tip of his spear sinking into the dirt, and whilst he's distracted with pulling it out you sweep the shaft of your own against the back of his knees. He buckles with a grunt, staggering, and you use his surprise to barrel your full body weight into his side.

He slips into the dirt, head thudding against the packed earth with a dull thud, and in your momentum you follow. By the time he's blinked the stars out of his eyes, your dagger is pressed up against his throat, nestled amongst the pale skin.

He breathes fast and sharp, a distinct contrast to his general collectedness. Your thighs cage his hips, and even from here you can feel his strength; his skin is shot through with sinew and iron. He could reach up, tussle, throw you off, put up a good fight. But he doesn't. He lays limp like a puppet with its strings cut, looking up at you with big, starry eyes—waiting for you to make the next move.

You come to a rather grim hypothesis.

The blunt tip of the dagger encroaches his skin, pushing in hard enough for blood to bead around it. Childe draws in a ragged gasp.

"Gonna kill me?" His tongue flicks out to wet his bottom lip. He says that like it's an act of worship, like carving his throat out with a cinquedea is akin to leaving incense at a shrine for a far-flung god. Like his blood would be spattered amongst the stars if only you spilled it. Your breath catches; you hadn't been ready for the rush of power Childe's perversion would give you. You can feel it nestling under your skin like a heartbeat.

"I think you could, if you wanted," Childe whispers, and then he shudders at the thought, pretty eyes fluttering closed. He looks like he isn't sparing two thoughts to your hand holding a knife to his throat; skin breaks, and blood makes a thin rivulet down his pale skin. "Mm. Maybe I'd—I'd even let you. You could ask real nice."

"You're hardly in a position to be making demands," you murmur, feeling quite frozen. "Why don't you just be quiet for once?"

At once, Childe falls silent.

His bottom lip has split; probably why he was tonguing at it earlier. Now, with nothing to stop it, blood makes a languid trail down the slope of his chin. With your free hand, with the curiosity of a child petting a stray animal for the first time, you swipe at the trail with the pad of your thumb. You track it up to the seam, the cut, the split, press down hard until the surrounding skin of his lip turns white. You can feel the short, hot shocks of his quick breath against the skin of your nail.

The flash of his tongue surprises you, sliding over the bloody pad of your thumb, cleaning up his mess. A dog licking at its own wounds. Your breath catches, but you've never known when you're wading too deep. It's your one weakness as a fighter. You always think you can take more than you can.

So you press deeper. Your thumb sinks into his mouth up to the knuckle, and Childe lets out a faint groan. There's the ghostly scrape of teeth before his lips close over the skin, tongue swirling over the mess of blood and chalky dirt on the blunt tip of the digit.

Somewhere in the back of your head, you register faintly that this is not normal. Your interactions with Childe have been limited, so far, to snarky deadpans, irritable smacks, and the occasional drink. If you have occasionally caught his eyes lingering on the collar of your shirt, or following you when you enter a room soaked in hilichurl gore, you've made no comment. You'd assumed it would fizzle out, anyway. He's Fatui. They're hardly known for staying in one place a significant portion of time—they're dark-dressed ravens, flocking from place to place and bringing suspicion and misery for a while before taking to the sky again.

But Childe is not scoring the horizon. He's in the dirt with your finger in his mouth, and it looks like he's right at home there.

He releases you with a wet pop. Saliva and blood make a diluted trail down to his chin, and his eyes have peeled open again—heavy and half-lidded, blue slate stone, scoring deep into you. Your body feels hot and too full.

He cracks a lazy smile. "Never seen you speechless before, scourge. Does this mean I win?"

And something snaps.

In a fluid movement, you grab both of his wrists and pin them to the ground beside his head. Childe grunts a sound of surprise as your fingers tighten on his wrists, back instinctively arching from the sudden pressure; one of his legs slips in the earth and knocks against your ankle. He blinks up at you, eyes practically bioluminescent in the night.

"You don't look much like a winner," you snarl.

"Depends on your position."

"You're the Tsaritsa's bitch," you spit. "And if not hers, Zhongli's, or was it Signora who was the last one to get one up on you? Really, you've been failing upwards so much lately it's getting hard to keep count."

Childe's eyes narrow, the first glimmer of defiance sparking in the blue. For the first time you feel him throw his weight behind his halfhearted squirming—he raises his hips to try and buck you off, tugs at your grip on his wrists with renewed vigour. His fighting back shouldn't spark something in you—it shouldn't—but you can feel yourself growing excited.

The thing is, you sort of like killing. People don't get into your line of work if they don't. There's something about holding something down and winning through nothing but sheer strength that makes you feel strong, like you've earned a place on this earth. Watching Childe's jaw tick in frustration the longer he goes without unseating you is making all sorts of dangerous ideas brew in your head.

It's just—maybe it's the drink, or the fight, but the world is still pleasantly pretty and still. And Childe looks sort of gorgeous with his brow all scrunched up like that, the hint of icy anger in his eyes, the gritted teeth. His neck is strained in such a way that bares every jut and bone to you, and you can see his pulse fluttering away under the taut skin, the bob of his adam's apple.

You want to bite it.

Some sort of magnetism pulls you down, nosing at the skin of his neck. Childe grunts, half-frustrated and half-confused when he feels your lips brush over his throat. He smells like salt and mead and copper, labour smells, but his skin here is smooth like it's never seen a day of wear.

"What're you—" Childe huffs out, but his mouth drops open with a choked noise when you seal your teeth in a ring over his neck and bite down. Not quite enough to hurt, you don't think, just enough to satisfy the weird part of you that's sparking for the urge to maim. "Archons, scourge."

Oh dear. His voice has gone all strangled and weak. You dare to release one of his wrists to cup the back of his neck, holding him still, brushing the feathery down of hair on his nape. Automatically, his free hand flies for you, but it stops short, hovering as if unsure.

You can almost feel him weighing his choices in his mind. He has a hand free, and you're not even looking at him. Even if he can't beat you outright, he'd do alright with the element of surprise. He could definitely knock you spinning and flee before you get your bearings.

You wait. Count the fast thuds of Childe's pulse against his neck. The muscles in his free arm go limp, and he wraps it around your waist to pull you closer.

Figuring you're done pretending, you skim your lips up his neck and jaw before catching his mouth in a hard, bruising kiss. Childe moans, softly, into your mouth, hand clenching hard over the fabric of your waist before sliding under. His fingers span out over the small of your back, worn leather and warm flesh, and you shudder despite yourself.

His lips are chapped, and you can taste blood still oozing from the split in the plush lower one. "Someone's sensitive," you gloat, and he huffs. "Not had time to get laid here?"

"What can I say?" Childe's breezy tone would be more believable it it wasn't coming out so strangled. "Been a busy guy. Don't seem to have time for m-many... simple pleasures."

"You always seemed to find time to annoy me, though," you say darkly.

"Less of a luxury, more of a need," Childe breathes. "You make just the most interesting faces when you're irritated."

"Yeah? That get you all wet?"

Childe laughs weakly. "Scourge, please. I'm but a blushing virgin. You'll burn my poor ears off."

You shoot an obvious glance down to the tent straining against Childe's slacks. "I can well believe that."

He squirms in embarrassment, the tips of his ears lighting up scarlet. His eyes blink up at you, the usual lusterless blue fleeing in wake of reflecting the thousands of stars above you, and he seems to glow from the inside out, for a moment. The coppery blood on his face catches the moonlight.

A tongue flicks out to wet his lips, a dog wetting its snout. "Won't you take pity, scourge?" he pleads. "You got me well and truly at your mercy. You win. So..."

Before you can stop to consider the ramifications of your actions, your free hand has already scrambled to his belt buckle. Childe's breath catches, eyes widening as he registers your movements as the brass clinks in the silence. For a moment there's nothing but the hasty shuffling of clothing as you shuck Childe's dirt-streaked trousers down his thighs, his hips lifting to assist. There's a small furrow between his brows, his cheeks alight with a blush that makes his freckles sing against his skin.

The skin of his thighs catches, milk-white in the moonlight. Even here, scars have made their home, pink or bruise-dark, crisscrossing over the flesh in railroads. You get his trousers down past his knees before you stop bothering; he's left in dark underclothes, erection so stiff it's pulling the thin fabric taut, and the slit in his shirt that you've always found obscene betrays the quick, shallow bursts of his breath.

His throat flexes when he swallows. "Are you really going to—mmmgh!"

Childe sputters to a halt with a rather embarrassing high-pitched noise as you cup him through his boxers. You roll your palm experimentally over the tip of the tent, and his eyes flutter shut, rolling back against his skull with a pretty, desperate noise. This side of him is so foreign, but so familiar, so obvious, you wonder why you didn't think of it before.

"Ah, fuck," Childe swears, already sounding breathless. With how obvious he's always been, the lazy slide of his eyes, you'd assumed he had at least some experience—but maybe your teasing just a moment ago was a little more on the nose than you'd anticipated. He's unusually sensitive. "Scourge, I don't—"

"Stop calling me that," you mutter, pulling the fabric of his underwear till it strains against his cock, and he swallows back a gasp, spine arching against the dirt. "Did you want something?"

"You're so cruel," he whines. "Y/n, Archons, please—"

"Alright, alright, you big baby," you sigh, shedding his soaked underwear. Childe shudders, thighs tightening under you as he hits the cold air. The strain of his arousal and the chafing fabric is obvious; pre drips eagerly from the reddish tip, and he fits neatly into your palm when you swipe over the leaking hands before wrapping your fingers around him. Childe jolts into the touch, cursing under his breath, and as you start to jerk him off his lashes flutter. His blue eyes roll to the heavens and his head thumps against the earth with a long, shaky moan.

The night fills with noise, somewhere between what you find obscene and what sends heat rushing between your own legs as your fist pumps lazily up his length. Childe is more receptive than you would've put money on, gasping and swearing, hiccuping small, wounded noises in the back of his throat. His brow is scrunched, lips slack and wet with saliva, eyes screwed shut. His hips jump like they have a brain of their own.

You squeeze, prompting a panicked noise; Childe's eyes fly open and find your sly smile. "You look pretty," you tell him. Childe goes scarlet.

"W-wha?" he dredges up intelligently, frowning. "Why'd you—what?"

You find it funny that you've literally got your hand around his cock, but calling him pretty is apparently what crosses the line in flustering him. You cock your head, grinning.

"You don't think?" you coo. "I think you're lovely like this. I never realised how attractive you'd be once you shut your mouth. Maybe I should beat you in a fight more often."

"W-wouldn't complain," Childe pants, still alight with a feverish blush.

"I'm sure," you say noncommitally. "You fucking whore."

Childe moans, loud and shameless, and his free hand flails to scratch his nails down his own skin. "D-don't stop, fuck, don't stop—"

You stare at the scarlet railroads left on the pale skin of his stomach, and with your free hand yank up his shirt to his chest. Childe lets out a startled sound, looking at you with round, surprised eyes. His torso is littered with scars, raised and pale and dark against freckled skin. He is pretty. You love the marks of his exertions and pains, a history of his losses mapped out over his body. One of his nipple has a healed slash running right through it; when you reach up and tweak it, Childe shudders.

"Anyone would think you like losing," you murmur.

Childe looks at you weakly, crying out when your hand resumes at a faster pace. "Like it when—hnn—when it's real. I like it when they don't hold back. 'S why I'm just—hah!—e-enamoured with you, I guess."

"'Cause I'm ruthless?" you quip.

Childe flutters his lashes. "Nice enough to let me come, I hope," he says sweetly, and it makes your cheeks burn momentarily with embarrassment, the brazenness of his statement. "I'm not above begging."

"I liked you better when you were quiet," you mutter, and swipe your thumb hard over the slit. Childe yelps, muscles melting like butter, and when you start rubbing cruelly like you've found some sort of button his face flames, his mouth drops open, and he lets out a wailing noise, legs thrashing.

"Archons," he keens, but with your free hand you seize and handful of his hair and pull, hard.

"No Archons," you snarl. "Just me."

Tears prick at the corners of Childe's eyes as he rolls his hips to meet your unrelenting strokes, whimpering. "Y-yes, yeah, just you, just you, do that again."

You oblige, dig your fingers into the red hair so deep your nails scrape his scalp, and tug. The tears spill over Childe's lashline as he chokes on the moan that bursts from him at the movement.

"Keep it there," he begs, thighs shaking. "Pleasepleaseplease—"

"You close?" you ask innocently. "Already?"

There's no more pretence; the fine line of pleasure and pain seems to have wrought Childe down to only basic instincts, as his hips roll against your hand as you fist his length rough and quick, head tipped right back against the ground, exposing the heaving column of his throat. The toned concave of his stomach flexes with each punched-out breath, the scars coiling and elongating respectively.

"Please," Childe sobs in answer. "I'll be good, be real good, I'm close..."

You surge forward, digging your face into Childe's neck as you speed up your pace, and sink your teeth into the soft skin at the junction of his neck and shoulder. Hard enough for blood to bubble under your lips, hard enough for Childe to let out a strangled scream as he comes all over your hand, spilling over your fingers and his stomach in pearly arcs.

He's panting when you pull back, winces as you dislodge your teeth and unwind your fingers from his hair. He touches the bite mark with a wince and hiss, examining the blood on his fingers with light interest. It really shouldn't surprise or arouse you nearly as much when he dips them into his mouth and licks them clean.

"Degenerate," you tell him. Childe smiles crookedly, the flush on his face still stark red.

"There's this old saying about a pot and a kettle," he says, voice still weak and shaky.

The bite mark is leaking. As he reaches for you, you get the fleeting thought that it will leave another scar to add to his masses, another permanent trophy of another loss.

A loss to you.

And you smile.

[angelsrcute]

Baby, keep your eyes on me. ౨ৎ

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ — yandere men who'd tie up someone and fuck you infront of them if they jealous. Gosh, the fucking audacity. How dare that fucker look at you in a wrong way? it's as if his hand on your waist and the way he clings to you isn't enough. Your head pushed into the pillow, your ass up in the air as he fucks you to next week, his other hand gripping into your waist. Ouch, that would leave marks.

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ— The bound stranger struggles to get out of the chair, screams muffled. Loud moans echoing in the room, your ass red from the spankings, it hurts! Well, who cares, at this point you can only think about how well his cock slides in n out of you, stretching you out, hittin' all your good spots. The lewd sight, full on display for that unfortunate man :(

“Such a stupid slut, gettin' off of this, do you like this? gettin' fucked in front of someone? tsk, can't even keep quiet like a good girl,”

Oh, well what happens to the guy after that is a mystery! :3

Leona, ROOK, Leech twins, Blade, Boothill, Asmo, Barbatos, Childe, Sukuna, TOJI, Scara, Pantalone, Chuuya, DAZAI, Akutagawa + your favs.

[alhaithamtit]

cw: premature ejaculation, sextoys, dom!gn!reader

IMAGINE

fucking a virgin guy with a fleshlight. watching him sob and writhe underneath you as the tightness of the toy makes him cum in three pathetic thrusts. don't stop. use it on him until all that comes out of him are pathetic whimpers and moans. watch as he falls apart, his balls empty and orgasms dry.

gepard landau, dr. ratio, leviathan (obey me!), alhaitham, diluc ragnvindr, neuvillette

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙢𝙚 𝙪𝙥! ♡︎

characters: sub!big men x nb!dom!reader

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, breeding, creampie, slapping, hair pulling, size difference, rough sex, strap/cock traditions, feminization like a lot, mentions of lactating, just dumb big sub men getting fucked stupid<3

notes: thinking with my clit rn… divider by @/reveriesources

big men! who can’t help but feel something swirling in their stomach every time they see little children going around, clinging to their parents, excitedly chattering on and showing their proud work

big men! who can’t help but imagine what it would be like to have your own children. you two have been together for long enough now, he guesses it should be time to bring up the topic of children and raising a family together

big men! who absolutely adore children despite their large physique and threatening appearance. and children love them in return and so are you with children as well. he sees it as an absolute win-win. you both love children and they love you two back. it would only be normal to want a cute family together, right?

big men! who nervously bring up the topic of children one day after a nice homemade dinner. he speaks in stutters and stammers — uncharacteristic as he fiddles with his hands, looking down at his lap. what if you weren’t ready? what if you turn down the idea? what if you don’t even want children to begin with?

big men! who let out a sigh of relief when you reach out, your smaller hands covering their own as you sooth his worries. who smiles in sheer utter joy when you say you want children as well

big men! who later into the night get absolutely wrecked. legs shaking, voice hoarse from all the moaning and screaming. mind delirious, barely hanging on a thread as his glossy eyes look at nowhere in the room. who can’t help but let out a shriek when you enter him again. big and thick cock hitting his sensitive spots, making him squeal and thrash around on the bed until you pin him down with your weight

big men! who cry and blabber about being too goddamn full. who talk about your cock fucking his insides, rearranging his organs. who deliriously smiles and lets a drunken giggle slip when he feels the small bump in his stomach from the sheer size of your strap and cum mixed together

big men! who drool on the sheets when he can feel you slap his ass. the sting feeling so damn delicious, he couldn’t help but ask for more. to slap his ass and squeeze and fondle his tits until they’re all sore, red and lactating

big men! who lets out a weak pathetic excuse of a whine when you cum deep inside him for the nth time that night, legs spasming from the feeling of your hot seeds painting his walls

big men! who get fucked until their mind breaks, blabbering and slurring about how you were fucking his womb now. how he can feel your tip bruising his cervix and that you’re gonna knock him up

big men! who eagerly push you down, straddling your lap when you mischievously ask him to ride your cock since you’re so damn tired

big men! who rides your strap happily, his own cock repeatedly hitting his stomach as he sinks down on your strap again. the sheer amount of cum dribbling down your shaft, his thighs and making a mess

big men! who place a hand over the small bulge on their stomach. lust hazed smile on their face as they slur out words of getting pregnant. who blabber on and on so cutely about finally starting a family with you. who giggles when he feels you cum inside him again, saying he wants to make sure that his womb gets filled to the brim, wanting to carry your children even though he doesn’t even have a womb

big men! who whine when you try to tap out, too exhausted to continue. but he wants to! he wants to make sure you fuck your cock deep inside him, pushing past his cervix walls and cum inside him over and over till he gets pregnant!

big men! who fucking squirts. weak and limp cock spurting out pathetic excuse of droplets of cum before shooting blanks, pushing his red ass flush against your hips to make sure you don’t pull out. who lets out the loudest fucking scream when your hand gently yanks his hair, pushing his face into the pillow to muffle his noise as you continue to ram your cock inside him

big men! whose moans and whimpers turn so high-pitched, so weak, so girly as his whole body spasms and shakes under you like a weak fawn. who keep daydreaming of a cute domestic life with you and your kids together in his cotton filled brain

big men! who are just fucked dumb. not a single thought or an imagination in their mind as they simply lay there. take, take, take and take until you two finally tap out. you, too exhausted. him, exhausted, with a sore throat, with old and new tear stains on his cheeks, drool slipping down his lips with a shaking body. who passes out after you cum inside him for the nth time

big men! who dream of starting a family with you. the two of you with a cute child or a few more since he was such a big family man. the kids running around, the two of you watching them with a smile as the two of you make dinner together

big men! who wakes up all sore and exhausted the next morning. they’re absolutely drained and even trying to speak hurt

big men! who can finally move around after a while. who place a hand over his stomach before realizing the bulge is gone since you have already did an aftercare together after he passed out. who feel a growing sense of great sadness as their eyes brim with tears and their lips quiver

big men! who shake you awake with a sense of urgency, asking you to hurry and wake up. when you finally do, you’re greeted with the sight if your lover with tears in his eyes

big men! who complain, hiss and even cry as he stammers about not being pregnant. who take your hand in his own, squeezing your hand slightly with a pout on their face, “you should have knocked me up! i wanted a baby with you! did you.. not want a baby?”

big men! who cry crocodile tears when they realize that they can’t get pregnant after you explain it to them. mind still too fucked dumb, brain filled with nothing but statics and cotton. who literally sobs in desperation when he realizes he can’t get knocked up by you

big men! who sniffle as you turn their face to look at you. who finally starts to calm down when you assure him with a smug smile that you will continue to fuck your cum inside him over and over until he finally gets pregnant. isn’t his partner just lovely?

➯ jing yuan, blade, gepard, sampo, welt yang, argenti, wriothesley, neuvilette, diluc, itto, childe, capitano, kaveh, thoma, baizhu, zhongli, dainsleif, rock, hajime sugoroku, kenshirou yozakura, musashi, samon gokuu, liang, qi, yamato godai, mitsuru hitokoe, sinbad, masrur, spartos leoxses, kouen ren, koumei ren, muu alexius, cassim, armakan amun-ra, yunan, judar, murial, julian, diavolo, beel, mammon, satan, simeon, solomon, raphael your faves♡︎

[kalystatheevil]

picture scaramouche bent over, hands tied behind his back, face pressed to a coffee table with you holding him from behind

tw: cursing, cnc, praise, humiliation, dom reader, unhealthy use of ellipses; (amab reader), 18+

you rub your glistening cock between scaramouche's spread asscheeks, almost moaning from the view alone. your precum is already leaking into the cracks, moistening them prettily.

"fuck, scara… what did i tell you, huh?" a sharp slap resounds, and scaramouche's right cheek immediately starts turning pinkish. the boy grits his teeth.

"go to hell you fucking psycho."

"mhhh…" your thumbs leave little indents in the supple skin of his ass. between them, a throbbing hole clenches nervously. "a psycho, am i."

scaramouche moans as you push the tip past the rim. you're sure he didn't mean to, but it still escaped his lips. slowly, you push just the tip in and out, watching intently as the skin spreads around the gland, swallowing it greedily.

"you stretch so beautifully, scara," you coo, a soft blush on your face. "so incredibly beautiful"

"stop— stop looking!" scaramouche growls. "it's—" he gasps loudly when the tip enters him yet again, face already red from all the blood gathering in his head.

"it's what, scara..."

"it's— ugly…"

at this, you click your tongue and stop. "ugly?"

scaramouche becomes angry, deflecting from his quickly rising shame. "yes, ugly. seriously, stop with this stupid game you're playing, i don't need you to act like you're into th—"

you thrust into him, deep and hard. scaramouche's words are lost in a strangled gurgle as his eyes roll back.

"it seems i need to fuck that thought out of you."

with one roll of your hands, you shorten the rope connected to his tied wrists, tugging them upwards. slowly, you start to roll your hips back, watching as the rim catches and slides over your cock. you moan. "aah, scara… you look so, so pretty like this"

"fuck… you… ngh— a-aahn…"

you breathe heavily. "fuck. fuck, scara. you take me so well. look at you, moaning like a slut..."

"shut— shut up. fuck. i'll kill you. i swear i'll fucking kill y— MGH!" you slam back into him. any further protest is drowned by the sound of thighs hitting flesh in sharp slaps as you start pounding into him. harder and harder you thrust back inside, needing to reach deeper, faster, harder.

it doesn't take long for scaramouche to lose his composure. on the surface of the coffee table, he rolls his head almost limply to the side. his eyes are blurry with pleasure, but still he tries to look at you out of the corner of his eye - to make you see exactly what you are doing to him.

you breathe a laugh, panting hard. under scaramouche's mouth, a steadily growing puddle of drool forms. he twitches, legs giving in.

you grab his hips so hard his skin will certainly bruise. scaramouche is not yet allowed to stop taking you. you stare and stare, fucking him until the world starts to tilt, until your cock feels numb from sheer pleasure, until you start twitching so hard that it's visible on the front of scaramouche's stomach—

you cum hard, gasping for air. white stars form in your vision, and you can feel your hands tremble on his soft skin.

"haha…" you laugh, out of breath. under you, scaramouche whimpers quietly.

after a moment, you pull out slowly. a thick line of cum connects the tip of your still slightly twitching cock with scaramouche's warm, fluttering hole. "ahh… fuck. my cum… hahaha… deep… deep inside you…"

scaramouche lets out another whine. his hole clenches before releasing a white drop of liquid. he whimpers, trying to say something.

"mh?" you ask, using your thumb to smear the droplet around the throbbing hole. "speak up, scara…"

amidst his wordless whimpers, you push your thumb inside and laugh again, feeling scaramouche milking it powerlessly.

"i wonder when you came…"

"mmglh…" scaramouche answers. when something warm touches his freely leaking cock, he flinches lightly. a moan tumbles over his lips. with the palm of your hand, you rub the tip of his soft erection.

"or rather… how many times." scaramouche's eyes slowly roll backwards. with a grin, you raise your hand back up and glide your tongue over the palm, humming appreciatively at the taste. "yum ~"

"no…more…" scaramouche finally breathes. "can't…" your arm slings around his belly. with ease, you lift him up. "ahn—"

"no more? no more, scara?"

"no... more..."

"but baby..." you place a soft kiss on his temple.

"we were just getting started."

[formatting shamelessly stolen from scara smut writer @hanxku]

[brenbofen]

Don’t cry, Hydro dragon! ♥︎

Sub Neuvillette x Dom AMAB Reader

Broadcaster Message - dragonss……oughhhh. need me a needy dragon boyfriend. sorry both of my works for Neuvillette ended with bath sex, obsessed with the idea of carrying a tired n sore neuvillette to a bath and letting him cock warm ans sleep against you you while you wash him.

Notes 🗒️ - Sub Neuvillette, Dom AMAB Reader, Genshin Leaks?, Pet names (Dove), Anal penetration, Reader is big, Belly Bulge, Dacryphilia, Cockwarming, Reader is strong enough to lift Neuvillette, Needy Neuvillette, Probably OOC Neuillvette, Short-ish? Let me know if I missed anything!

!! Not Proof Read !!

“It’s beginning to rain, dove. Wonder why that is?”

You laughed as you looked away from the windows and down at your boyfriend Neuvillette. His body trembled as you pushed your dick deeper and deeper into him, tears prickling in his eyes. He sniffled once you got only half your length within him, pitifully clawing at the blankets beneath him in an attempt to ground himself. You hummed, leaning down and kissing Neuvillette softly, dragging your hand up his chest, grinning against his lips when you felt him squirm as you fully sheathed yourself within him.

You pulled away, gently squeezing Neuvillette’s stomach, admiring the small lump that formed on his stomach. Neuvillette glanced down at it then threw his head back, letting out a pitiful sigh once his head hit the plush of his pillows.

You hummed as you looked outside and saw the dark clouds dissipate, glancing over and seeing the tears on Neuvillette’s face drying. You leaned down and kisses Neuvillette, mumbling against his lips, “I’m gonna start moving, dove. Alright?” Neuvillette nodded, letting out a groan when he felt you begin to thrust in and out of him.

His hands flew to your neck, nails digging crescent moon marks into your flesh as he felt your fat dick drag along his walls. “W-wait! It hurts— AhhHHh—“ You sunk your teeth into Neuvillette’s neck, giving him something to distract from the pain of you stretching him out. He let out the sweetest whimpers as your dick rubbed against his prostate, tears beginning to prickle in his eyes again.

You loved when your dove cried, and you especially loved how rain would always follow when he shed tears. You moved up to kiss Neuvillette’s cheeks, gently rubbing his cheeks to wipe his tears. “Y-your- hahHHhhh—“ Neuvillette hiccuped when he felt you begin to thrust faster, hands trembling against your neck. “Yo—u’re s’ bigg- Mhmm-“ Neuvillette drew his words out, speech slurred and sentences just barely coherent.

You chuckled against Neuvillette, feeling him clench tightly around you, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I know you can take me, dove.” You gently ran a hand through Neuvillette’s hair, “You’ve done it before.” Neuvillette let out a shaky breath at your words, thighs trembling around you as he pushed his hips against you. You loved how quickly he fell apart beneath you, crying and hiccuping the moment you began touching him.

The only sound within Neuvillette’s room was his moans and sobbing paired with harsh rain thudding against the window. You dragged your hands down Neuvillette’s body, softly cooing at him as he cried and cried. “Pleashh- You’re too b-ig! ‘s too muchh!“ Neuvillette cried as he tugged on your hair, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as you pounded into him. You didn’t say anything just kissing his face, mumbling soft praises and affirmations as you were balls deep within Neuvillette.

No matter how many times Neuvillette took your dick he could never get used to it, you were so impossibly large and stretched him out so much, he couldn’t help but cry! But he loved how close you were, if he went too long without you beside him he’d cry even harder. You both knew he was an emotional man.

Through gritted teeth Neuvillette tried so suppress his whines when he felt you release in him, reaching his orgasm shortly after. His body shook as you massaged his hips, allowing him to grind against you and ride out his high. “I told you you could take it.” You grinned at Neuvillette, the man just sighing and pressing his hands to his face.

You clicked your tongue as you glanced outside once again, “The rain stopped.” Neuillvette looked outside as well, taking his shaky hands from your neck to wipe his tears, breathing returning to normal and body ceasing it’s trembling. “We should clean up.” Your tone was flat as you turned to Neuvillette, seeing an adorable pout form on his face. You attempted to pull out, but Neuillvette wrapped his legs tightly around you, straining to sit up and wrap his arms around your neck once again.

“Please don’t pull out.”

You sighed as you stared at Neuvillette, having to fight the smile tugging at your lips as he clung to you and pressed his face into your neck. “Alright.” You shrugged and hooked Neuvillette’s legs over your hands, lifting him and carrying him out of his room and down the hall to a bathroom. Thankfully no one was inside of his home at the moment other than the two of you.

You carefully set Neuvillette into the bathtub and began to run the water, hand under it to test the temperature. “This fine?” Neuvillette escaped his daze from your words and stared at you with a cloudy gaze before slowly nodding, swirling the water with his hand. You tilted your head, watching as Neuvillette looked so sad in the water, then you heard the rain.

You hummed, leaning on the edge of the tub and running a hand through Neuvillette’s hair. “What’s wrong, dove?” Neuvillette looked up at you, pointed ears twitching as he thought, straining to form coherent sentences in his tired mind. “I asked you to not pull out.”

You stared at Neuvillette for a moment before bursting into laughter, the man flushing bright red at the sight. You wiped tears from your eyes as you regained your composure, smiling softly at Neuvillette, “So that’s what it is?” You made a ‘tsk’ sound before getting up and stepping into the bath, turning Neuvillette so he was facing you, legs now straddling your lap. “You’re so needy, y’know that?” Neuvillette just huffed as he clambered into your lap and lined himself up with your dick. Thankfully he was still stretched out from earlier, so there wasn’t much pain, just a small hiss from Neuvillette as your tip pushed past his hole.

You hummed as Neuvillette situated himself on your lap, Neuvillette letting out a satisfied sigh when he got your full length inside of himself. “You complain I’m too big, but get upset when I’m not in you?” You grinned at Neuillvette, the man rolling his eyes at your teasing tone. He pressed his face into your neck, humming when your hands found a home within his hair.

“Let’s clean you up now, yeah?”

[poksmimi]

FUCKING YOUR STEP-BROTHERS!

contains♪ : scaramouche, alhaitham x afab!reader, stepcest, stepbrother, stepfather, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, reader wears a skirt, GN!reader, no pronouns for reader, squirting, pussy spanking, ass spanking(once), clit rubbing, degradation, name calling; whore, slut. Petnames; Darling, Baby, grammar mistakes.

notes♪ : 'm love icky boys, so be warned!! and part will be Dottore, Zhongli !! ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖ ♪ !! If there are any grammar mistakes, tell me!!

SCARAMOUCHE

You turn your head sideways, your eyes meet up to see his, your stepbrother's eyes. He has a smirk on his face, his teeth showing. His hand was gripping at your leg, going up to your thigh as he slips his pants into your skirt, his hand rests on your cunt through your panties. You gulp and sweat goes down your face, his hand slowly rubbing up and down your cunt. Your pussy begins to get wet, a shiver of satisfaction goes down your spinal cord. He looks at you and you know what to do afterwards this dinner is over.

The bed is creaking, the headboard hitting the wall. Your mouth is wide open and drool hits your pillow, your mind feels hazy and he grabs your face. Your hands grip at pillow, his dick hitting spots in your cunt, he groans and closes his eyes. Gritting his teeth and the squeezing of your cunt doesn't help, your cunt feels so good around his dick. His face flushes red, his hair sweating to his forehead as sweat covers his body, his hands shakily grip at your hips, pounding fast and hard at you. "Fuck– your slutty cunt feels so 'm good around 'm!" He mutters, a ring of white liquid surrounds his cock. Your eyes are completely rolled back, your hair is sticking to your sweaty body. You can taste your own drool going back to your mouth as you can feel his dick ramming inside of you, your sight is hazy and blurry. You can smell sex, sweaty bodies and you can hear you and scara moaning, the springs of the bed speaking and the headboard hitting the wall in loud thumps. You don't know how long you guys been going, but your cunt still clenches for more. Your nails dig into the pillow and your cunt spasms around his cock, he bites down in his lower lip and goes faster, feeling his end and he closes his eyes, nails digging into your soft skin. "Darlin', your going to make 'm fucking fill you up again." He whispers, you moan weakly, the bed stops creaking as he stops and digs his nails dig in your skin, his palm spanks your pussy as you stiffen, your clit getting spanked adds more pleasure, you squeal and you squirt, wetting the bedsheet so much. His dick spurting out his semen, filling you up, some of his seed spills onto the cum-covered bedsheet. His hand spanks your cunt once more and his palm connects to your ass, smirking down at you. "You didn't think this was over, did you baby~?" He smirks.

ALHAITHAM

You smile at him, showing your teeth and he glanced at you, you smile nervously. Fixing yourself up, fixing your hair and getting up before making your way to him, you had always been interested in Him and him becoming your stepbrother was going to make it more easier to be near him. He looks at you and your hands begin to be sweaty, he blinks and shakes your hand, you grip at his hand. You see a glint in his eyes, your face becomes darker, a shiver of pleasure or fear goes down your spine, your legs close and you hope that what your thinking is true.

"Al-haithie!" You croak, your eyes rolling back to your head, his big dick was pounding inside your squishy, mushy wetness. The table rattles, making the legs hot and scrap the floor hard, your legs wobble as his dick makes you cock-drunk. "Isn't this what you wanted 'm to do all along! You whore, you wanted this." He whispers, holding your waist, playing with the skin as he fucks you, it makes a loud clapping sound when he thrusts back into you. Your vocal cords hurting due to screaming in pleasure, your toes curl, loud clapping and thumping is heard until he comes to a stop. His dick spurting out his semen, your cunt clenches really hard around his dick, some of his seeds slip out and go onto the floor. You can hear your heartbeat but he doesn't stop, you yelp and grip at the table. "Wha—?" You say but his hand covers your mouth as his other hand hooks you under and makes you stand as he faces your body towards the couch, his two fingers inside your mouth as he taps your tongue. Making you suck on his two digits as he begins to move once more, fucking your wet filled-cum pussy, your cunt leaking out semen your juices onto the floor, his hard dick fucks your tight cunt. Your moans are muffled as tears begin to develop in your eyes, he groans into your ear, closing his eyes as he fucks you. "Going to come for your step brother, aren't you slut?" He speaks, his face is red and his white hair clings to his forehead, your hair sticks to your sweaty body. His dick was making you crave for more even when he is still fucking your cunt, his fingers leave your mouth and lay on-top of your bud. Resting on your clit as he rubs it, adding more not the pleasure, your eyes roll back as you scream. He fucks into your cunt so hard while rubbing furiously at your clit, your vision goes blurry, your stomach feels weird as you let out a loud-moan scream, his palm rubs at your clit and pussy, your squirting, wetting the couch and the ground. "AHh!" Your moans continue as he kisses your check, his dick soon spurting out semen, filling your cunt with more gooey cream. "Don't worry, darlin'. We aren't over just yet~" he purrs.

[uplatterme]

Imagine Idol Aether where you fuck him backstage but you don’t let him cum so he just has to perform horny🤫

Also can I be 🦷 anon

—idol!aether/manager!reader, sub!aether/dom!reader | edging, mentions of exhibitionism | reader has a dick and penetrates, gets called sir

aether continues to pant, his body hugging yours.

his poofy white shorts lowered to his thighs, cum leaking from both of you.

his music continues to play from the stage, loud enough to be heard here in his dressing room.

“please.” he breathes.

he feels your hand caressing his back, the soft touch just making it unbearable. he wants to cry so badly, he needs it and you weren’t giving it to him.

“no tears. it’s too late to get your makeup retouched.” you warned.

“y-yes, sir.”

each thrust pleasurable but agonizing, but he’d rather have this than nothing.

“you like it, don’t you? hearing your fans excitedly cheer for you…meanwhile, you’re here getting dicked down by your manager.”

the idol hides his face on your shoulder.

“c-can’t help it…you make me feel so good.”

you bend him on his table, the mirror facing him as he gets pounded.

“i bet you’d love to be fucked on stage, hm?”

he doesn’t know how to answer to that. it was a thought that’s crossed his mind before, he doesn’t dare to lie.

the urge to pull on his golden locks was high but you decided against it, not wanting to ruin his hair.

besides, you were already ruining his bottom half.

“you just adore attention, don’t you? you think those fans of yours can’t see under your shorts whenever you dance?”

“you made me wear it…” he argued, his lips trembling from keeping every sound in his chest.

no moaning or screaming, you said. it’ll ruin his voice, you said.

and yet here you were dicking him down ruthlessly as if that won’t affect his dancing. he bites the bottom of his lips, his thighs are already shaking on their own.

“you act like i forced you into this. i gave you options, didn’t i? but you still chose this one.”

aether lets out a soft grunt as he feels your movements directly hitting that spot.

the idol looked drunk, he wanted to grip on something but he could do nothing but close his fists on top of the table.

“what is it? you want to show off to your fans that bad? or is it because that one boy group you like is attending today’s concert?”

aether shakes his head. “ngh…no. only you, i promise.”

a knock comes from the door. one of the staff reminding them that they had to go in five.

“good. after all, a pure and sweet idol should stay loyal to the one he loves. isn’t that right?”

“y-yes!” he yelps, feeling his stomach warming up with your cum.

once you pull out, he already feels his shorts getting fixed without even wiping the stains or cleaning him up first.

he’ll try his best to keep it in, just like as usual.

he can’t wait to finish this concert and just get dumbed down without any worries.

each step has him quivering despite his shoes being short-heeled, cum slowly leaking out of his briefs whenever his body shifts wrongly. each nerve of his body wanting to just pounce on you and cancel this event.

“do a good job.” you say.

aether smiles at you, an idol’s perfect smile. “you know i will.”

you chuckle, unable to resist messing his hair up now by patting his head.

“i’ll make sure to reward you good afterwards.”

…

a blush creeps up on aether’s face just imagining it.

he has got to stop you with all this teasing.

[brayneworms]

roots of lore.

ft. xiao x gn!reader

word count. 1.4k

content. scars, scar touching, xiao's backstory (mentions of abuse + slavery), massages, xiao is touch-starved, fluff, petnames (sweet boy), grinding, not technically smut but definitely suggestive, light dom/sub undertones (dom!reader + sub!xiao).

synopsis. xiao is free now, but his scars remain.

notes. i am an nsfw blog, minors dont follow me or interact.

Xiao's body locks up beneath you, a trembling cage of flesh and soul.

You're reminded of when he'd grudgingly agreed to spar with you for the first time, after much wheedling. The first time you'd asked, he'd looked at you like you'd grown another head; the second time bred only subtle irritation. The third, he'd informed you flatly that under no uncertain circumstances could you beat him, and he doesn't like to fight at the best of times.

The tenth time, you wore him down. It had been exhilarating—you got your ass beat, sure, and Xiao had been going very easy on you, too. You'd limped back to the Wangshu Inn with bruised ribs and a strained ankle and a huge grin. You're sure Xiao thought you even stranger after that. But now it's become routine, and though he has years of experience on you, sometimes you're quick enough to get a couple of hits on him.

One time, oh, one time you managed to get his feet out from under him with a training staff, a harsh whap to the ankles and he went down, knees and face in the dirt. Before he can get his hands under him to push himself back up, he feels a phantom weight settle over him like a shadow, and he freezes. The blunt tip of your staff presses into his spine, right over a ridge, in a way that renders him temporarily motionless. Your knee brushes against the outside of his hip as you lean down, and when you speak, you're so close to his ear that he can feel his pulse in his skull; "Got you."

This is the first time you feel it—the way Xiao freezes when he's bested. At first you think you've made him uncomfortable, but... through the tufts of dark hair obscuring his expression, you can see the tips of his ears burning red. You can feel the slightest tremble running through his bones where your body just barely brushes his own. And, most tellingly, when you lean forward to murmur what was supposed to be a gloat, you feel the choked-off noise he bites back somewhere high in his throat at the contact.

And you suppose it's not so different to now, really—your room at the Wangshu Inn is quiet and decent, half-lit by glass lanterns and the moonlight outside. You're far too high above Liyue for any stray passersby to be able to see through your windows, which is just as well. You don't want anyone to be privy to this view except for you.

He's still mostly dressed, which is almost more tantalising than seeing him naked; there's something about the way the fabric drapes over his skin that makes you want to eat him alive. He's taken to burying his face in the bedsheets to hide as you work at him, a palm spread wide over his stomach to feel his stomach rise and fall. Even this contact sends his blood catching alight, his spine arching into your touch as your thumb strokes at the skin. Laving your care into pale flesh, one gentle swipe at a time.

You set another hand gently on the jut of his hip, push him back down to the bed. "You okay?"

Xiao presses his lips together, half mortified at his own lack of control and half blissed out beyond caring. Nobody has ever touched him like this, with so much care, so much love—it feels foreign, bubbling up hot and carbonated inside him like it insists upon itself. Calling out to an endless void, love me! Love me!

It seems impossible. But here you are, rolling him over on his stomach. He's half-grateful; burning up from the intensity of your stare, neck sore from trying to burrow into the bed to hide from it. He sinks his head into the pillows and let loose a long, trembly sigh as you clamber gently over him, legs bent on either side of his hips. The weight of you rests on him as you reach out to toy with a lock of dark hair.

Xiao whines at the suggestion of tension against his scalp; you pull nowhere near enough to hurt, but the in-between is maddening. It's like anticipation, like holding a loaded crossbow waiting for the bolt to loose. It feels like you should hurt him. Like you should want to. But you don't, and before long your fingers leave his hair to trace patterns on the nape of his neck, and Xiao shudders, burying his head into the pillow.

"You're okay, sweet boy," you murmur, and Xiao wants to argue that he's not a boy, he's so far from it, and sweet sounds like a joke when it tries to stick to someone like him. Karmic debt oozes from his pores, gritty and dark and acidic, surely infecting even your lovely hands, and Xiao readies his voice to say all this but then you run a finger hard down his spine and he stifles a whiny noise into the sheets instead.

He's aware, vaguely, that he's panting, that he's never felt this alive in this way in all his life, that what started as uncertain jerks of his hips to relieve some of the weird tension building hot in his low stomach has turned into a steady, rhythmic movement. His hips roll against the mattress, ignited by your careful touch, your fingers that dance on the precipice between pleasure and pain. It's too much, it's not enough, and Xiao stifles another cry into the mattress, mortified.

You stop quite suddenly, and Xiao makes another pathetic noise before realising where your hands have paused. The window in the back of his shirt that ripples over the skin of his spine, baring the flesh for the world. His heart flies into his throat; he usually keeps a glamour up, nothing especially powerful, just enough to heal his skin and keep people from seeing—

Your fingers trace a scar, and Xiao feels the prickling of tears at his eyes. Seeing that.

"Xiao," you whisper, and try as he might he is unable to read your tone. He's rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle, and the fiery want in his abdomen goes cold and rotten in earnest. He can't look back at you. You've seen.

You must think he's hideous. A thing only worthy to be kept, to be hit, to be made use of. He wants to curl into himself and hide.

"I've never seen these," you murmur. "Do you keep them hidden?"

Shamefully, Xiao forces himself to nod; he can't possibly speak.

"Oh, sweet boy..." And your hands move again, tracing up and down the ridges, the jagged X that serves as a remnant of his days of servitude, tattoos his skin like a brand of ownership. Whip scars, beatings where the skin sliced open, pockmarking an unmeasurable amount of skin. Xiao wants simultaneously to pull away and to melt into you; he wants to let you rip him open at the seams, sink your hands into the ichor and black karma that makes him up inside. The thought of disappearing into the wind flits briefly, temptingly, across his mind—and then your hands drag over the center of that jagged X and his eyes roll back in his head, and the sinks into the mattress with little more than a whimper.

"You're so beautiful," he hears you whisper, and it feels impossible, like a sweet dream of some other reality where he deserves such gentle treatment. Your fingers nudge at the back of his head, coaxing. "Look at me?"

He cracks open a heavy eye with great difficulty; it gleams bright as topaz above cheekbones shaded in deep scarlet, hair amuss, shielding the rest of his expression, but his eyes speak enough. He looks agonised.

You lean forward, press your lips to the raised center of the labyrinth of scars in a stinging kiss, and Xiao swallows a choked noise. "I don't want you to hide these from me anymore, okay? Look how strong you are. How brave. I want to be reminded of that every time I look at you—that's what you deserve."

Xiao draws in a shaky breath. "I am not... any of that," he mumbles, paying no mind to how wrecked his voice sounds. "These are marks o weakness. Of servitude."

"And now you're free," you whisper, and Xiao's heart soars like a bird over the horizon. "Free to wander, to love. Free to stay right here with me."

Xiao can think of nothing better.

if you enjoyed this, request something.

[angelsrcute]

I suck his dick, it's big, it's very-very big! ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ — who'd make you cockwarm him while he works, the door unlocked, his dick so close to your g-spot but he wouldn't let you move! hands keeping your waist in place as his dick keeps you all stuffed n warm.

“I'll be done soon, sweetheart, you can wait a little more right? So, be a good girl n stop movin’ so much.”

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ — who'd praise you for sucking him off so good, tears forming at the corner of your eyes as you try not to gag on his huge dick. Guiding your tongue on his dick, gently holding your hair, shooting thick ropes of cum in your mouth.

“God, your mouth feels so good, my sweets. Keep goin’ alright? looking so pretty f’ me.”

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ — who'd taunt n insult you while you gag on his dick, roughly grabbing your hair and making you take him fully. Your mascara n lipstick all ruined, eyes rollin’ back when he cums in your mouth. :(

“You look like some cheap whore like this, y'know. I bet you're getting wet from me degrading you, hm? As expected.”

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ — who'd fuck you in a mating press, his big cock stretching your insides, hitting your womb. Pressin’ his hand on your tummy to feel his dick in you, making you whine. Your tummy already full from how much he cums, you definitely can't go for another round.. + he's gonna fuck you till you need a wheelchair.

“It won't fit? Don't worry, darlin’. Gonna make your cunt remember my dick, don't worry! Even if it does forgets, I'll just fuck ya again.”

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ — who'd fuck you till your dumb n can only think of him and his dick if you do decide to act all bratty or he'd just tie you up n put a vibrator on your clit and watch as you squirm around trying to get a release, but he turns off the vibrator just when you're gonna cum. :(

"Should've thought before being like that, what did you expect, princess? acting all flirty with that random guy, trying to make me jealous."

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ — who’re either super experienced from sleeping around or just fucking virgin losers, walkin’ around with that big ass dick in his pants.

— FYODOR, Leona, Dazai, NIKOLAI, Beel, Chuuya, Diavolo, SEBEK, Lucifer, Malleus, MAMMON, Jack, Blade, Neuvillette, Sampo, IDIA, Zhongli, Scara, CHILDE, TOJI, Jing yuan, Gojo, Sukuna, NANAMI, Dr. ratio, Wriothesley, ALHAITHAM, CATER + your favs.

[st4rrth0ughts]

fucking Kaveh as a puppet that was for some reason, built with a dick?? 🔆🏛️

a/n first fic of this series is done!

Kaveh feeling hot and bothered, he's stressed from work, Alhaitham's being a dick again (he wants yours), so he goes to your place, wanting to stay with the one person he loves more than his work. You, his darling. A puppet that was intially missing its heart, that he crafted for you. Over time, he became even more attached to you, and so did you. But tonight, he has a different idea on he wants to relase his stress. Afterall, he's the one who wanted to see if a puppet could fuck a human.

Kaveh’s eyes roll back as he depearately rides your cock, his pussy clenching hard around you as your cool hands grasp his hips in place. He's panting like a dog in heat, drooling as his eyes filled with hearts as he fucks himself, your dick feeling almost a little inhuman in his body, sending shivers down his spine as his toes curl. His blonde hair is messy as it sticks to his face, his body bouncing on you so beautifully, even you cant help but conclude that he's the most pretty human and thing youve ever seen and recorded. But after his 5th orgasm, your human's speed is starting to slow, his body leaning on you as he tries to continues fuck himself weakly on you, tears spilling from his red eyes from both overstimulation and overwhelming pleasure.

"darling, if its too much, you can stop."

you murmur softly, tracing the bulge in his stomach as he rides on your mechanical dick deperately. Your starting to wonder why your creator even constructed for you to have one to begin with. You could even ejaculate like a normal human, if you wanted to. Makes you wonder what the hell your creator was even thinking when he made you.

'n-no, ngyah-♡♡ fuuck- want your c-cock to breed me-♡ oh-!" His eyes roll back as your cock hits his g spot, hard. He bucks himself back on you harder, his sharp cries and moans flling the room. You figure he's not going to be able to ride you any longer, so you grab his hips, and slam him onto you hard in quick succession, making him arch his back and let out choked sobs and shrieks of pleasure, cumming on your cock over and over again, the feeling of your tip kissing his cervix so harshly making him see stars. You grunt, your hips thrusting upwards slightly, making the architect wail as he claws at your back. You register his pain, but he seems to be enjoying it, so you continue. The man seemed to be frustrated over something, so while your dick pounds into his dripping pussy, you figure that he wants your cum in him. Pulling him close, you whisper softly in his ear, your free hand flicking the architect's nipple.

"you want me to cum in you, kaveh? want you to give you what you’ve been wanting?"

The architect mewls in delight, his eyes rolling back as he leaks around you when he hears that. He deosnt know where you learnt to talk like that, but archons it made him want you even more. His delighted sounds tell you everything you need. Your breath hitches (if thats even possible) as your hips stutter, and his mouth opens in a silent scream as he feels a warm liquid filling his pussy, falling limply onto the table, his salacious whines and whimpers making you want to do it again. Your hips start at a rapid pace again, making the blonde below you spasm as his fingers scrape the wooden table. But he seems to enjoy it, and you have all the stamina in the world to fuck him till he breaks.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙙𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙙𝙧𝙖𝙜𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙖𝙩𝙤𝙢𝙮 𝙥𝙩2 ♡︎

characters: sub!dragons x nb!dom!reader

warnings: finger in vent again so vent fingering, established relationship, monster anatomy, clothes and undergarment stealing, clothes sniffing, the dragons are being a bit more feral, pillow humping, praise, pleading, thigh riding, guided vent fingering, squirting, nipple stimulation, bullet vibrator usage, mind break, fluff, needy dragon boys hehehehhehe

notes: due to popular demand, here is part 2 of dragons getting fucked dumb(●’◡’●)ﾉ im sorry if it took a while. i was having some health issues(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) part 1 can be read here!! gradient divider from @/benkeibear

word count: 4.9k

ever since you helped out your large lizard lover with his heat, there’s only been one thing on his mind since then. your finger in his vent. the soft coos of your praises, the way you pushed his legs open to fuck him dumber, the way you nudged his hands off of his face so you could see his cute face twist and turn in pleasure as you fuck his hole.

“oh, for fuck’s sake! i need to get them out of my head” the dragon huffs aloud out of a sudden, hunching over his desk at his usual office as he hides the flush of his cheeks behind his hands. already a week has passed since the ending of his heat cycle and yet he was acting like he was still under the influence of his stupid dragon anatomy. he couldn’t even stop thinking about you and your fingers spreading him open while he cried dumbly on the bed, back arching and chasing after your fingers like a whore.

it was after his heat ended and finally able to at least articulate proper sentences that wasn’t about wanting you to wreck him, that the two of you have talked over and decided that perhaps it was time to make your relationship official. how long have the two of you been dancing around each other, making everyone roll their eyes at the way you two flirted with each other like some dumb teenagers? enough to the point people started making bets. enough that a half of the city had become 50 bucks richer and the other half poorer.

despite having already gotten into an established relationship with you, the poor dragon still felt shameful over some of his actions. such as stealing your clothes whenever you come over to his house to stay the night and lying to your face about not knowing where it was. you two were still basically in the baby stages of being an official couple which was why you needed some time to fully move your things into his house and to start living together. it takes time to settle y’know?

so it was definitely weird when some of your clothes started to disappear. the shirt that you usually wear when at the comfort of your or his home. the large, oversized sweater of yours that you have given the nickname of “the ugly one”. and strangely, you even had a hard time finding a certain undergarment amongst the mess of your home and the boxes of things that you packed up, preparing to move. strange. and even more strange, your overgrown lizard lover says he hasn’t seen them in his own home either. you genuinely started to question your own memory.

in the meantime you were busy creating a storm in your home trying to triple check this week about your missing clothes, your boyfriend was having a hard time in his office. no matter how hard he tried to focus on the paperwork stacked in front of his damn face, he just couldn’t.

instead, his mind just kept drifting back to the memory of you helping him during his heat cycle. the praises that constantly fell on his ears as his toes curled, clawed hands scrambling to grasp for something to clutch onto because he was sure that he ascended when your finger fucked the small opening of his vent. and that lewd squelching noises of his slick dripping down from his vent. an oddly sickeningly sweet smelling scent coming from him as if trying to woo you, trails of his juice dripping from his vent down to his fluttering hole to the bed.

he was fucked dumb during those days and by the stars, he wanted it again. he wanted your hand fisting at his cocks, eagerly tugging on them as your finger abuses the squishy spot inside him. he wanted to sob and wail deliriously, bucking his hips, torn between wanting to chase after the pleasure or tearing himself away to save what leftover pride he had, as he begs for mercy. he wanted it. at this rate, if he kept thinking back on that moment, he might as well try to force his body into another heat cycle so soon.

shaking the imagery out of his head, the dragon clears his throat. looking around his office to see if anyone is around — to his luck, no one was — before breathing out a heavy huff. he might as well try to at least do his work during work time.

“maybe that chipmunk’s affinity to skip work is rubbing off on me…”

perhaps even more had rubbed off on him. none which was a good thing.

“i’m sorry… i’m sorry i’m sorry ‘m sorry, [name]…” the dragon whines pathetically, wearing the oversized sweater he stole from you and nothing else. he just couldn’t get that memory out of his head. every time he tried, something small and insignificant would just remind him of it again. unable to keep up with trying to seem all professional, he rushed home straight after work — perhaps even earlier than the hours he gets out of his office — locking himself in his bedroom with a pillow between his thighs, wearing your sweater with your stolen undergarments to his face.

despite having already been fucked shamelessly just ten or so days ago, it still felt wrong to think of you in such a lewd way. in such a defiling way. in a way that it served as a huge disservice to who you really are.

“mmnngh—! [naamee]… m-miss you… missing you so bad…” the dragon whines, completely pent up as his slick continues to drip onto the pillow between his thighs, the outer scales of his vent already puffy and open slightly, weeping his mouthwatering juice. the poor thing was pathetic, trying to recreate the way you wrecked him so good. fingers messily rubbing and flicking against his vent opening as a means to mimic the way you ate him out the other day. spreading his slick around, making a stretching motion with his two fingers on the sides of his vent, flicking the small nub on top. it didn’t help. if anything, it only made it worse.

the dragon was trying to help himself out, to relieve himself off of his pain of unknowingly edging himself for the past few days. without you by his side to help him out or to hear his pleas. without you by his side to fuck him so good again. palming himself with a pathetic whimper, the dragon thinks about slipping a finger inside his vent the same way you did. but could he do it? probably not. he was just too damn of a coward, and there was the looming possibility of losing control of himself and letting his claws grow.

unable to do it in the end, he settles on merely stroking his cock. hand wrapped tightly around his weeping dick, your stolen undergarments wrapped around one of his cocks as he mewls, bucking his hips into the tight space of his closed fist. it was nowhere near to how it felt when you did it. perhaps at the time, it was his heat pheromones working but it felt good. your hand wrapped around his cock as your other hand fingers his vent opening. your hand felt so much better.

biting down on his lips, he cums into his hand, soiling your stolen undergarments as well in the process just the moment he thought back on the feeling. pouting, the dragon’s tail flicks in annoyance behind him, looking over at the clock hanging on the wall.

12:36. were you awake right now? you did indeed had tendency to stay awake a bit too late on some nights…

knock knock knock!

the soft yet annoyingly persistent knocks on your door slowly rouses you from your sleep, making you roll around in the comfort of your bed in a silent declaration of war against the knocking. acting stubborn, clinging onto the cozy warmth of your bed, you groan as a string of curses falls from your lips as you involuntarily drag yourself out of bed. whoever that was outside your door in this ungodly hour shall face your wrath like sun wukong did with buddha.

pitter pattering to the door — where the knocking has become more persistent — you swing the door open, ready to curse the person and their 109 bloodlines before shutting up. standing in front of you with his tail and horns out in the open, slitted eyes glowing slightly, was your dragon lover. strange. he never visits this late.

“dear? wha— what happened? is everything alright? it’s—“ you take a moment to steal a glance towards the clock hanging on the living room wall before turning to face him again, “—nearly 2am” you finish, concern growing more and more when his tail comes to curl around his own ankle. a clear sign that he was feeling anxious or uncomfortable.

“can i… come in? i wanted to see you” the dragon asks in a meek voice, a strange habit that you found concerning and heartbreaking to see since your lover was usually one who is calm and collected at all times. nodding, you usher him inside before locking the door behind you.

quietly, you follow him as your lover makes a straight beeline into your bedroom, making himself comfortable on the edge of your bed as a pink flush starts to grow on his cute cheeks. you were about to ask him if he wanted something to eat or drink but perhaps not as the needy dragon was now staring at you as his tail swishes behind him, impatient. tails expressed emotions after all.

yawning, you move to sit beside him on the bed, to which you accept his hug when you finally settle down. his arms cones to wrap around your middle, tail now calming down from the earlier fussy movement as it curls around your calf possessively. humming, you run a hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp.

the dragon loved it whenever you read him like he was an open book. to others, he was a stone wall, one that was made out of ancient scribbles and unintelligible runes. a warrior forged by blood and scent of death, one who was born and made by the cries of war and blind devotion from others. but to you, he was just a fellow being. one who was lonely from the many centuries he had spent, all by himself. struggling with the many different cultures of life, trying his best to learn and understand the human customs so he could properly court you in human traditions.

you two stay like that for some time. nestled against one another, just basking in the comfort of the peaceful life that you two found between yourselves.

“[name]…” the dragon whimpers from the crook of your neck, soft rumbling purrs mixing with his whining of your name. it was enough to snap you out of your sleepy state, making you hum as you acknowledge his call. he got your attention now. but the main point of hesitancy was — could he do it? could he be so shameful as to not only disturb your night of peace but to also be selfish to want you to pleasure him the same way you did a few days ago?

hearing the familiar noise of his tail hitting the bed constantly in a sense of irritation, you coo his name softly. one hand messing with the long strands of his hair while the other runs through his scalp.

“what’s on your mind now, my pretty?” you ask, taking a look at his face when it comes out of its hiding place in the crook of your neck. he seemed to be conflicted. brows furrowed, slitted eyes glowing slightly in the dark room while his lips tug in a small pout. laughing at the oddly adorable expression, you kiss his brows and pouty lips, making his purrs become louder. such a needy dragon.

“i’ve… been thinking,” the dragon starts after a while, taking his time to try and articulate his request and to convey his feelings that has been bothering him lately. a lot more than he initially thought they would.

“about how you helped me while i was in heat” he takes a moment, watching your expression closely to see if you caught the gist of what he was trying to say. you did, of course you did, you were a smart human after all. his smart human.

“and i was wondering if you could do it again…?” he finally manages to bring himself to ask, peering up at you through his lashes bashfully. how could you ever say no to such a face? such an ethereal and cute begging face alongside the promise of seeing his expression twist into one of someone who’s just fucked stupid. the cute face of your dragon lover drooling and sobbing fat tears while his heart shaped pupils stare at you in a silent plea for more. that face haunted your mind for too damn long, causing unnecessary moments of dozing off while remembering about the moment you slipped your finger inside, making your already horrible work ethnic drop to below ground level.

“sure. i wouldn’t mind it, pretty” you hum, any ounce of sleep leaving your body as you move to a more comfortable position on the bed. pushing yourself to lean against the headboard of the bed, you watch as your draconic lover takes his place on your lap. clawed hands coming to fist at the material of your pajama shirt, whining your name as he pushes himself flush against your chest. you could feel the mounds of his chest pressing against your own, his tail swishing behind him as he arches his back. your lips is pulled against his own, a small peck easily turning into a heated, messy make out. his forked tongue shyly licking at your lips, purring contently as his long tongue slithers inside you, exploring every nook and cranny needily.

you could feel his hips humping your thigh, the wetness of his vent weeping his precum already starting to stain his pajama pants and seeping into your own. you could tell he was too aroused, dumbly chasing after any ounce of pleasure there could be. you could feel the way your mixed saliva dripped down from your sloppy open mouthed kisses, his hands guiding yours to rest on his hips. a position you used to your advantage as your hands traveled downwards to knead his ass, squeezing the soft fat as he whimpers into the kiss.

the poor thing was so pent up, humping your thighs didn’t felt enough. it wasn’t enough to get him to that familiar feeling of high, that exhilarating feeling of feeling your fingers stretch his vent open while he could only keen like a whore.

“want it… want it so bad…” he mumbles into the kiss, guiding your hands to the hem of his pajama pants, tugging on them fervently to get the clothes off. you simply chuckle, finding his desperation adorable in more ways than one before finally relenting and slipping off his pants before he let out an annoyed hiss, pulling away from the sloppy make out session to tear off his underwear with his claws.

“darling! why would you rip it off?” you ask, amused by his eagerness but also slightly concerned for the way he just easily ripped off his clothes like that. you have never seen him get even the tiniest bit ticked off after all, so this was a new side of him that you were seeing.

“wanted more” he only huffs, demanding more kisses as he returns to shove his forked tongue down your throat. the length of his tongue got you groaning and panting, finding it harder to breathe as he becomes more needy with every kiss, with every sloppy slurp of your tongue against his own.

“mmnhp—! [nameee]♡︎” he let out a yelp, pulling away from the kiss to whine out your name as he felt your fingers knead his vent open. the poor dragon whined, huffing and puffing about how you were being so mean to him as he humps your thigh, the tips of his cocks slowly emerging from the scaled vent, both of his cocks weeping pre all over your clothes as his vent drips with his own arousal.

shifting him around, you let him lean his back onto your chest, hands hooking under his legs to spread them open. your dragon let out a little hiss, talking about how you weren’t paying attention to him. you simply shush his hissy fit with a chuckle, placing a kiss on his forehead. taking his hand, you tell him to withdraw his claws. an action he does with confusion before he let out a whimper when you guide his hand to his vent.

“b-but… i-i don’t think i can do it. i’m nervous!” he says in a panicked tone, turning his head to stare at you with cute pouty lips and wide eyes.

“yes, you can. i’ll guide you through it all, okay? it’ll feel good, promise darling” you say, peppering his face in kisses to soothe his worries. the dragon preens at that, his purrs getting louder as his tail whacks the mattress of your bed impatiently. once you get the hint that he was ready and he was okay with continuing, you guide his fingers to tease the edges of his vent. fingers rubbing the soft scales, making a spreading motion to ease the muscles there.

just some foreplay and he was already panting, legs twitching to close them. he was so cute.

“that’s it pretty, now keep your legs open for me” you continue to praise him through it all, your other hand leaving his leg to slip underneath his shirt. squeezing his chest, rubbing your thumb over his areola, you pinch at his nipple when it hardens, causing him to jolt in your embrace. whispering more praises of how he was doing so well, how he was your pretty boy, your beloved dragon, your hand guides his own to slip a finger inside his now loose vent.

“u-uunngh!! mmghh… mnngh… t-tight♡︎ too tight! w-won’t fit…♡︎!” he blabbers, throwing his head back on your shoulder as you slowly ease his finger deeper inside his vent. first, second knuckle until his middle finger was slipped deep inside the tight hole of his opening, legs shaking on the bed already like a fawn’s. there were already tears starting to form in his eyes, jaw slack open as heavy breaths fall. not a single thought behind his teary eyes. nothing but the pleasure your guidance and his fingers were bringing him.

“that’s it… that’s my pretty dragon, keep going” you coo out, pleased by how easily he broke under a simple pleasure of fingering his own vent. when he pathetically humps the air — finger still inside — you pull on his nipple to remind him how to do it. squealing at the amount of pleasure coming from both his nipples and vent, the dragon shakes his head, fat globs of tears already falling.

“c-can’t! can’t do it. [n-name] i need you♡︎♡︎ need your fingers so bad♡︎!“ he stutters, legs already shaking, about to close shut. too caught up in his own pleasure that he doesn’t even know what to do to properly pleasure himself even when you were here to guide him through it. clicking your tongue, you guide his hand to pull his finger out, something he couldn’t even perform without your help. he really was a goner with you.

“then, be a sweetheart and play with your tits for me, pretty. wanna see your cute breasts jiggle while i fuck you” you tell him, watching with endearment as he nods dumbly. hands coming up to push his shirt up, fingers twisting and pinching at his own hardened nipples. stuttered breaths fall from his lips when he could feel your thumb swipe at the slit of one of his cocks, jolting in place when you give his weeping cock a few pumps. the few visible veins in them were bulging, ready to pop and for him to squirt yet again if you just stop teasing him around!

but doing the same thing over and over again sounded boring to you. your sweet dragon deserved some treats for being such a good boy after all. he deserved some pampering.

“ah! gimme a second, darling” you snap your fingers, an idea forming in your head. he lets out a soft confused hum at that, hands still holding onto the soft mounds of his chest as he watches you move away to reach over to your bedside nightstand. opening the top drawer, he watches in curiosity as you bring out an odd small device that was connected to a small remote control by quite the lengthy wire. the color all cute pink, the toy small and nearly the size of a small hairclip but pretty girthy in width. were you… thinking on putting that inside him?

“it’s called a bullet vibrator. apparently, it’s supposed to add vibrations to any place of your choosing. and since i found out of your soft spot, i thought maybe we could try it out?” you explain to him, slowly unwrapping the long wire of the toy. it was quite lengthy. perfect to use it for his soft spot.

“only if you’re comfortable with it, dear. i wouldn’t want you to try anything you think you’re not ready for or feel comfortable with” you quickly say, ready to throw the toy away for another time when you feel the grip of his tail around your ankle. the soft smooth scales creating a soft, bristling sensation on your bare skin. if he could remember carefully, the most he took in his vent were two fingers. but it proved that his vent could be quite stretchy and take something more if given enough foreplay and gentle ministrations.

“i… i don’t think i would mind it. it sounds kind of fun, actually” he says after a moment of thinking on the matter, accepting the fact that yes, he can take it. he wanted to try these new feelings and challenges with you. everything would be right when with you.

“i would love to try this new toy” he finally comes to a conclusion, turning his head so he could place kisses on your neck and cheeks, purring in happiness when he could hear you chuckling. you should laugh more. the dragon loved the sound of your laughter — like soft bells chiming in the morning.

patting his thigh to tell him to open up his legs further, it was now your turn to plant kisses on his neck. you couldn’t exactly bite his shoulders as he still had his pajama shirt on, but you can take care of it tomorrow morning. so, you settle on peppering kisses on his neck, the faint scales that were around his artery, giving it a light suckle to which you got a breathy moan for. all the while you allow his vent to get used to the feeling of the toy, the material of it and its size, simply rubbing it over the soft outer scales.

“gonna push it in, okay pretty?” you whisper in his ear, to which he whimpered and nodded, one of his hands leaving his chest to intertwine his hand with yours. so cute. you can only hope he won’t crush your hand accidentally.

ever so softly, whispering praises to how good he was taking the toy into the shell of his ear, you take in the delicious noises he makes with a great amount of pride. the great and only dragon who could wipe out an entire nation off of the face of the earth, choosing you as his mate and bonding with you. having his faith in you that you would take good care of him and his pleasures. it was a heavy emotion and one that comes with responsibility to a certain degree and you would always be sure to handle the heart of his that he willingly gave you, with tenderness of a first snow.

“aaah mmggh—! uungh♡︎ it’s in! i-it’s aaaanhg♡︎♡︎ hummg♥︎ inside... it’s insiiiecckk—♡︎♥︎!!” your dragon squeals, hips thrusting back and forth into the air as he feels the soft round edge of the toy pressed against the soft spongy spot inside his vent. it felt foreign to have something other than your hand touch him there, perhaps even disrespectful since it was supposed to be the only soft spot that only you must have the privilege to know and touch! but for the sake of this new level of pleasure that you promised, he swallowed his hissy fits, instead replacing them with a whiny soft moan.

“i know, pretty. i know. deep breaths for me, pretty” you murmur, giving soft squeezes to his hand that was tightly holding your own. his tail starting to wrap around your ankle and up your calf further with the fluffy haired end wagging in the air playfully around your knees. you let him get used to the feeling of the toy first. gently rubbing it back and forth on his spongy spot, hearing the way his breathing picks up pace as he throws his head onto your shoulder.

“gonna turn it on now, pretty” you warn him, keeping a close eye on the way his expression shifts. if he shows the slightest bit of pain, uncomfortable feelings or signs of discomfort, you were going to ditch the idea. a moment of pleasure is not worth loosing your comfort over, after all. thankfully, he was reacting well to the new intrusion. only positive notes of his pleasured noises and star crossed eyes. you say it to him again, this time just a bit louder with a squeeze to his hand in case he was starting to lose himself. that seemed to snap him out of his trance. just enough to nod his head to you.

“o-okay… okayhhh i understaaaNGGHH!! [n-name]♥︎♥︎[namenamenamenam]—♥︎♥︎ h-haaangh mmhg s-shoo much♡︎ f-feelsh too much♡︎♥︎!!” just a single switch to the lowest level of the vibrator and he was already shrieking, sobbing and thrashing about on the bed. legs shutting around your hand instinctively, salty globs of tears falling as he goes slack jawed. his entire body shakes as he squirts into his stomach, but this time, he squirted from both of his cocks at the same time. the pretty pink tips weakly letting out a few more drops before he was fully hard on both cocks again.

all the while, you watched with an ever growing jubilation as your lover is reduced to this mess on your lap. legs shaking like a newborn fawn’s, cheeks and pointy ears a lovely shade of red as his jaw hangs slack open. every now and then, he would go quiet, arch his back off of you before a loud shriek would follow as the vibrator hits just right. you could see hearts in his eyes, completely docile as his pupils grow wide, so much so you could barely see the glow of his eye color.

so pathetically cute as he mewls your name in a slurred gibberish, repeating it over and over like a broken record. a broken recording that only had one word and is stuck in an eternal loop to say that recording. the most prettiest one. one that you wanted to be selfish and hear all day, everyday.

“u-uuuugckk! aaaanhg gyanh!! mrrrph— luv you♡︎ luvyouluvyouluvyous’much♥︎! luv yoouugh [n-naamee], luv you sho muchhh♡︎♡︎ f-fuUUNGK—♥︎♥︎” he trashes about on the bed, constant declaration of love falling from his lips, kicking his legs at the blanket as he sobs deliriously until he squirts yet again. his own cum splattering over to his chest, soiling his shirt and wetting his still hard pink nipples. you give one of them a pinch, delighted as he mewls in a hoarse voice. pinching and tugging on the cute nub, rubbing the still vibrating toy around his spongy spot, you watch in sheer adoration and obsession as he shoots blanks.

turning off the toy, you coax his legs open so you could move your hand and slip the toy out of his vent. when the girth of the toy slowly slips out of his abused now puffy vent, your dragon lets out a sob as his hips jolt violently. you could see his juices dripping out of his fluttering vent, wanting to finger it back inside him but knowing that it would push him way too far over his limits.

“shh shh, there there, pretty. i got you. you did so amazing” you whisper, wrapping your arms around his middle to pull him flush against yourself. wiping away his tears and drool, you places butterfly kisses over his face as you ground him back to his mind. he was far too gone and he hated having baths when he was way too lost in his subspace. if he isn’t responsive enough when bathing together, he will throw yet another hissy fit.

“mmmgh… tired…” you could hear him croak out after a long time of rocking him in your arms. he was slowly coming back which meant it was time for a bath. but until he fully regains his mind, it was better to cuddle him close as his tail has a mind of its own and has yet to let go of your ankle. at all.

smooch! maybe another kiss to his pink cheeks would help him ground himself faster.

[heizouz]

GENSHIN IMPACT NSFW LINKS

sub!genshin men nsfw links!!! (all links are from twt) if u would like to req specific characters, or for me to do a female ver (i probably will at sone point) just lmk!!! <333 most of these are solo or x afab!reader btw :))) i will be writing stuff soon, this is just smth to post while i do 👍

overstimulating tighnari

solo heizou

puppy wriothesley fucking afab!reader

overstimulating wrio

solo gorou (literally)

edging tartaglia

tartaglia sucking off afab!reader

puppy thoma riding afab!reader

edging kaveh

teasing kaveh

solo scaramouche

solo al haitham

afab!reader x al haitham

afab!reader x diluc

teasing diluc

needy xiao

[brenbofen]

Dick Obsessed Li

Broadcaster Message - Hmm Zhongli being obsessed with your dick,,, literally never cared for Zhongli, but then i was like “I MEED TO BREAK THIS OLD MAN” and sometbing was awakened in me

Notes 🗒️ - Sub Zhongli, Dom AMAB Reader, Body Worship, Belly Bulge, Breeding Kink, Feminization?, Mating Seasons, Dragon Zhongli, Mention of Pregnancy and Shape Shifting (AFAB Zhongli?? Maybe??), Anal Penetration, Don’t even know what some of this stuff I wrote is called, Zhongli is a whore, He’s obsessed with your dick and cum, that’s it, Let me know if i missed anything!

He’s so calm and composed until he sees your fat dick, he’s such a whore for you, on his knees before you, pressing his cheek against your growing bulge, practically begging you to let him suck your dick. You can’t help but coo at him, running your hand through his soft, long hair, Zhongli giving you such a desperate look, how could you say no to him any longer?

It’s such a beautiful sight, the former Geo Archon with his lips wrapped around your cock, drool spilling down his face as he laps at it, taking in as much as he can. He’s gripping your thighs so tightly as he desperately tries to take your full length, he wants to please you so badly, make you feel good, he’s gagging around your dick in his desperate attempts to take all of you.

Such a sweet thing, having a god at your feet, practically worshiping your cock, slowly rutting against your feet. When you finally cum, Zhongli is a mess, drool and your cum spilling down his face, hazy half-lidded eyes as he gazes up at you, asking for more.

Zhongli sprawled out on your shared bed, whining as you press your dick into bim, he’s babbling about how much he loves you, pupils blown wide as he stares at the growing lump in his stomach from your dick.

He’s gripping your arms, begging you to stuff him full, mumbling about how if you wanted to he’d let you breed him, let him be your pretty house wife. Massage his hips and shower him with kisses as you stuff load after load into him, Zhongli’s head thrown back as he asks for “just one more round” for the eighth time that night.

He’s addicted to the feeling of your warm cum being shot so deep into him, your fat dick dragging along his stained walls with every thrust, he can’t get enough of you.

When the seasons change from winter to spring he’s going to be glued to your side. Zhongli pressing his face into the crook of your neck, hands slipping into your pants, begging you to fuck him. He gets so needy, crying whenever you need to pull away for a small break, no matter how many times he cums he’s never satisfied. If you’d be okay with it he’d absolutely shape shift to give himself a womb, asking you to breed him, make sure he’s pregnant by the end of his heat.

Zhongli riding your dick when you become too tired to move. He’s so pretty like this, dark arms with golden markings resting on your chest, face pressed into your neck as he bites down to mark you, golden horns occasionally bumping into you, tip of his tail wagging because of how happy he is. Mumbling how he’s so thankful you’re letting him do this, occasionally sitting up to kiss you or press his forehead against yours.

Sometimes when Zhkngli would lift his hips your cum would spill out of him and he would let out the cutest whines, small tears prickling in his pretty golden eyes, he doesn’t want to waste a single drop, treasuring every ounce of your seed thats pumped into him. You’d have to run your hands through his thick hair, letting him know it’s okay as he continues to bounce on your cock, asking if you could replace what was lost.

He’s such a pretty boy, so obsessed with your dick you sometimes forget he was once a feared god. Any fragment of his former personality lost the moment your in private, Zhongli’s face red as he asks to please you.

Such a lovely thing he is.