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Summary
Morax was simply mortified— suddenly a rush of thoughts came to him. The harbinger’s hips slotted so nicely in between Morax’s massive claws, sun-kissed skin marked by geo and bruises, his tight hole stretched obscenely wide over his lengths. Would he cry? Would he whimper? Would he mewl?
⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹Basically an excuse to write Childe getting wrecked— I missed Zhongchi so much honestly 🥹
