Work Text:
Settled on toned thighs, forearms hooked around broad shoulders, your hands interlocked and his resting on the juncture of your thighs; Zhongli promptly tightens his jaw, teeth grinding down against each other as he drags himself away from your lips, nostrils flaring, now nosing alongside the side of your neck, breaths notably audible - his cock heavy, angry almost with balls taut and drawn resting just short of your belly button.
He wanted to keep a clear conscious, for as long as he could manage, you deserved to be treating with nothing but respect - but, the nagging itch, animalistic, brutish kept rearing it’s head increasing in volume and irritability. And, although you’d both discussed the matter several times, (more so with your appreciated reassurances that you didn’t mind if it got, a little say, intense, and that you trusted him above all else, that he would never intentionally hurt you), Zhongli couldn’t prevent the guilt he felt.
Everytime you’d been visiting him briefly, making sure he wasn’t overworking himself to the point of exhaustion (and also having to remind him that he was residing in a mortal body now), he felt guilty, you, with nothing but his best interests at heart, had him, distracted with nothing but thoughts of being mated, knocking you up, visibly watching you grow throughout the period of your pregnancy.
His mind occupied, trailing his fingers over and across your lower stomach, imagining it stressed, filled with seed, “My love, I’d… I’d like to be gentle but I don’t,” exhaling deeply once again, he tries to continue, “I don’t think I can hold myself back any longer, forgive me,” voice throaty, guttural.
You’re barely able to formulate a response, Zhongli abruptly manhandling you onto your front, cock messily dribbling across the expanse of your lower back, before rutting into you roughly, clawed nails digging and drawing raised lines on now heated flesh.
With his own internal voice fading away into that of white noise, he doesn’t hesitate whatsoever, pulling and pushing himself, each thrust finishing with him resting his engorged cockhead on your rim; precum crowning perversely into a creamy ring, slick and syrupy, imagining how gorgeous you’d look carrying his clutch. You’d be glowing. Stomach swollen, and your tits, your tits, Archon’s, all heavy with milk - pretty areolas puffy and achy, needed to be sucked, emptied-
Zhongli was going to breed you, well and good.