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rosedom · 2 months

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Since you always serve us, let me serve you an imagination ( ͡⁠°⁠ ͜⁠ʖ⁠ ͡⁠°⁠)

Imagine aether or scara being so bratty and pouty all day, just genuinely being a cute meanie saying how they don't want to talk to you because they're so stressed out so you start kissing them everywhere and showering them with love, giving them the softest vanilla sex they've ever had. And the best part was you weren't even rough, you treated them like the king's they fucking are but they look so fucked dumb and cock drunk like they'd just beg you not to pull out because they just want more of your love cuz who wouldn't want a someone like you 😭🫰

—🪷

"in an open match, 【 🪷 】 has invited AETHER to play . . . stressed by day, blissed by night

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!amab!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!aether, snarky aether (at first), couch sex, vaginal fingering & sex, gentle & full of praise, creampie, cockwarming .

A/N : i chose aether ,, i am a simple man . . .

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Today's been a busy day for Aether.

Commission after commission, all with no fruits to show for his reaping. And all day, he'd whined at you and shooed you away, pouting at you whenever you tried to so much as lay a soft kiss against his lips.

Really, he's been nothing short of a brat.

"I don't wanna talk to you right now."

You whine, draping yourself across your boyfriend's shoulders and nuzzling into his neck, shy of his blushing ear. The pointed tip of it jabs into your temple, but you pay it no mind as you busy yourself with the expanse of his honeyed skin. "But baby—"

Aether tilts, turns his head away from you, but it only serves to expose more skin to your light touch. He groans and reaches for your head, batting at your hair until you whine again. "'m stressed," he says, as if that's a good 'nuff answer for you.

"And I'm your—" Aether moves his hand to clamp over your mouth instead, keeping you from saying anything else.

When you lick at his palm, he grumbles at you, a disgruntled n' whiny "stopp." The sound is rather pitiful, really, but you grin nonetheless; it makes you wanna see what other lil' sounds you can draw out of his pretty throat.

"But baby," you drawl, repeat it, dragging your tongue across the freckles on his neck and pausing to suckle at the bob of his Adam's apple. "I missed you." You try to frown, right into the hollow of his throat, make him feel your hankering.

At his responding whimper—a sound you feel wash over your ear, a vibration that reverberates through your lips and down to your toes—, you can't help but go back to grinning, instead.

Hook, line, and sinker, all without even getting his knickers down to his knees !

So, "Baby," you say.

He tries to hum, at that; but his soft, sounding sound is more akin to another breathless whimper, one masquerading as a meak "hm."

"You're tired."

"No shit." Well. He's got his voice back enough to snide, to yip and yap at your gentle teases; but, really, he's loosening in your arms and under your wandering lips. His attitude is a only a weak façade, the physical accumulation of the day's—the week's, the month's, the year's, the fucking life's—stresses.

With a last, suckling kiss to a prominent freckle—more of a beauty mark, to be honest, pigmented and stark amidst otherwise subtle freckles, lots of sunspots—atop his clavicle, one you found by tugging his scarf down, you lean back on up and bump your nose against his.

Gently, you shush him; then you press your lips against his, soft and slow and sweet, letting him melt into you. He whimpers, again, even without the introduction of tongue.

Aether is, simply put, fuckin' exhausted.

You tell him so. "You're exhausted," you say, enunciate, nipping at his bottom lip as you leave it kiss-bitten and red. This time, he doesn't snark, and you know then and there that he's submitted. "Let me take care of you tonight, honey. Please?"

He nods, and, "Okay. Okay. Please." Your name is gasped out, too, smothered in the messy kiss you give him at the first go-ahead.

"My sweet Aether," you murmur.

"Y-yeah?"

Getting his garments off is easy: scarf, done; crop top, off and tossed away; knickers and boxers, gone in one fell-swoop. He's bare in front of you quickly, the expanse of scarred, freckled and sun-spotted skin absolutely appetizing, to you.

And, in gentle reply, smoothed right to the erratic flutter of his pulse: "Let me make you feel good."

After that, moving him to the sofa is an mindless thing; you push him to sit down, get comfy, for the mere seconds it takes you to strip yourself. Clothes gone—out of sight, out of mind—you tumble on top of him, and he giggles—tired, huffing lil' things, but still giggles, nonetheless—, and you smother him in kisses, in sweet praises.

His giggles turn to gasps, his gasps into quiet moans. You're working another deep mark into his neck when he starts grinding into you, and you decide it's time to move on. "Up, up," you mutter, taking hold of his pretty hips, the fat of them filling your palms, and spin the two of you around.

Aether yelps your name, clinging onto your shoulders as his world is upended. "What—" he starts, whines, but you settle him properly onto your lap and bump your groin against his. The whisper of your cock against his makes him shiver.

Around you, his arms shake; his abs ripple when you tease your fingertips down his torso, the hair of his happy trail; and his hips try to jump away at the feeling of your fingers across his cunt. You hold him down easily enough with one arm—a feat made easy thanks to his exhaustion, sure, but mainly the utter trust he placed in you—, and ask him, softly, "What'd I say, honey?"

"H-huh?" Whimperin' like a pup, he shakes his head, crying out when your fingers gentle him open, one, two, three. The process is long, sure; but it's an art, to you—an act of love as each finger slips inside, the stretch of each one you soothe with kisses and sweet words.

You curl the three of them upwards, soaked down to your wrist, bumping your palm against his jutting cock. "What'd I say, earlier? Told you I was gonna do two things to you tonight."

Aether whines, clenching around your knuckle-deep fingers. "Y—you, ah—" You slide them out slowly, and he catches his breath, hot puffs of air against your own marked-up throat. "You said you'd take care of me."

"And?" you implore, not unkindly. He mewls, shivers, lets you lift him up enough to nudge the swollen, pre-cum slick head of your cock against his hole. "And what, darlin'?"

He moans, high and ready, scrambling for hold on your biceps when you slowly drop him, giving him inch by inch of your cock. "A-and—" he tries, at first, before he crumbles and falls forward into your neck once more at the pressure of your cock against his g-spot.

"Breathe, honey, breathe. You're doing so well, lettin' me take care of you, lettin' me—"

"Make me feel good! You—" he squirms on your cock, crying out desperately into your neck. He squeezes your upper arms like his cunt squeezes your dick: deliciously. "You said you'd—you'd make me feel good."

Lifting him up is easy; dropping him is even easier. He mewls and moans, whimpers and whines, and he gives you total control of his tired body. "That's right, Aeth," you coo, nipping at his ear and groaning at the slick slide of him on you, you in him. "I said I'd take care of you, and I'd make you feel good. You're perfect, lettin' me do these things to you, lettin' me make you feel nice, just as nice as you deserve."

You know it's a little cruel, forcing him up and down on your cock when he's already this tired; but the strain in his thighs is sweet, the gentle motions of your cock even more-so. He's boneless with pleasure, melting into your body while you maneuver him in the way that makes you both feel oh-so good.

Your orgasm, then, takes you by surprise. It's a slow n' steady build, one that washes over you in gentle waves and has you tugging Aether down onto you—a motion that makes him cry out n' harshly clench around your cock and leaves his cunt, wet n' sloppy, spasming, milking you for your cum. But it's rapturous nonetheless, and you reach down to thumb at his own cock and bring him over the edge, too.

"Good boy," you murmur, the two of you reveling in the remnants of your orgasms: you, in the wet-warmth of his cunt; and him, with the heat of your cum settling warm and deep in him.

However, when you try to move, try to pull out your softened cock, he cries, squeezes tight on you and keeps you snug in him. "Don't pull out," he whispers, and who are you to deny him?

"Alright, honey." He settles back into your lap enough for you to pull a throw over you both, tucking him up in warmth from all sides—inner and outer. You can feel his contented sigh in your own chest, his arms falling limp around your middle as he deeply breathes, dozes off.

Holding him close, feeling the rise and fall of his body against yours, you wonder whether you may have made him feel a bit too good—if such thing even exists. (You don't think it does.)

Today's been a busy day, after all; tonight an even busier night.

writing with my dick out ngl . . . i kind of took the request in another direction (⁠>⁠0⁠<⁠；⁠) maybe not as cock-drunk as straight up cock-passed-the-hell-out.

1 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#【 🪷 】#took me so much not to say “full of cm” too in the CW . . .#sub aether #aether x reader #aether smut #i love him so so much <3 #sub genshin #genshin x reader #genshin smut #ftm smut #top reader #dom reader #amab reader

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