#...well!

for the song and pics match up ◑﹏◐

so sorry nonnie but it’s a game for my mutuals only!!😭😭😭 since you asked so nicely I’m giving you these pics based on the emoji you sent:>

send 'monomono' to receive a gift from my muse courtesy of the monomono machine!

DULL KITCHEN KNIFE. a knife that can’t cut anything, even if you’re just using it normally. however, it is said that a master chef does not choose their knives…

arguments between them aren’t uncommon. from the start, they were bound to happen. if it wasn’t because of their obvious differences, then it was because of dottore's temper, or in some cases, because of zhongli’s existence alone. rarely, though, do they escalate beyond a minor physical confrontation. this time, every single thing they say and do fuels the fire a bit more. they push each other closer and closer to the edge, glaring daggers and flinging vicious words until eventually, they’re too close for comfort. when he's backed into his desk, there’s a silent conversation that floats within the heavy tension in the air. it takes an eternity and yet no time at all for that thread to snap, but the moment it does, their game begins.

he doesn't know who acts first. he doesn't even care, can't find it in him to bother worrying about it when it's easy to be distracted by the blur of harsh movements and icy glares and bared teeth. this is little more than an extension of their fight, yet everything falls into place a little too well. it's an unspoken reminder that this isn't the first time they've done this. twice now, zhongli has gotten this far with him. had someone told him even an hour prior that he'd find himself pinned to his desk by morax, he would've laughed himself into hysteria. he almost could now if he wasn't nearly blinded by fury.

all his thoughts tangle in knots with each move zhongli makes, strangling every shred of rationality left in his head. part of him still knows it would be smart to back out before they go too far, that this is the last person he should have around him, much less in him. spite is what convinces him to stay. this isn't a loss on his part, he won't accept it as one. if he twists it enough, he can convince himself that zhongli is the one losing, that he is the one that caved. that's a lie he'll stick with even after he kicks zhongli out of his lab. with each choked, reluctant moan torn from him, the anger only builds and his nails dig further into the other's skin. bitterly, he hopes it hurts. he hopes the marks he claws down zhongli’s back are deep enough to make him bleed, he hopes they fester and scar over and linger so he doesn't forget that dottore is capable of hurting him, too. it's barely anything, but it's enough to be considered payback for the bruises he knows will be left on his hips afterwards.

try as he might, he can't stay quiet. he wants to, wants to hide how horribly his body is betraying him. one hand even lowers to cover his mouth ( and pride surges through him when he finds that a bit of blood has pooled beneath his nails ), but it isn't enough. the pace zhongli has set is brutal, it hurts, yet some other twisted part of him has decided it's just enough to mix with the pleasure he already hates feeling. heat gathers inside more every second, with short breaths warming his palm and humiliating moans just barely staying muffled until finally, it's too much. everything boils over at once, and with his eyes squeezed shut, head thrown back onto the desk, he comes hard around zhongli’s cock. the haze in his head is so thick, he doesn't know which of zhongli’s names slipped through his lips, and it doesn't matter either. he won't admit that he ever spoke his name that way, much less acknowledge that he let a god fuck him in his own lab to begin with.

there is no peaceful way to come down. after they've both stilled, the full weight of what just happened falls heavy on dottore's body, and he crashes from the high as the realization plays on a loop. the ache in his limbs isn't so prominent that it dulls the malice coursing through him, but it is just enough to leave him shaky. the hand previously on his mouth rises so that his arm can drape itself over his face, half to keep zhongli from seeing just how much of a mess he's left dottore, and half so that he doesn't have to see the smug look on his face.

" you've had your fun, " he hisses once his voice returns, with the usual scowl to accompany it. with as much force as he can manage, he leans up and uses the free hand to try and shove the other off of him. " leave. " venom drips from his tone the way it always does when in the other's presence, but it's far quieter than usual. it's hard to sound as intimidating as he wants to when just moments prior he could barely catch his breath. that's the least of his concerns now anyway. all he cares about now is kicking zhongli out as soon as possible, and finding a way to completely wash his touch from his skin. with any luck, it'll be a long while before he decides to show his face around dottore again.