#art sweetie (sweaty) i am so sorry if i did you wrong i promise to watch challengers again once i get paid

[jamtoro]

Just a drabble in large part inspired by the first Challengers fic I read by @cybersunnie Content warning for masturbation but this is mostly just mutual pining

- Of course you knew who Art Donaldson was, because, really, who didn't? So why wouldn't you be surprised when he approached you, offering to be your hitting partner for the night?

- You hesitated on your response, a mixture of embarrassment (you were practicing for a mandatory athletics class and were far from being even decent) and confusion (why would he ask you? What did he gain from it?).

- But, still, you agreed. Practicing tennis with Art, the Art Donaldson, was not an opportunity afforded to many beginners (at least you imagined). And despite the preemptive embarrassment, it beat hitting a ball against a wall.

- So, you begin with a backhand warm up before advancing to a rally.

- You miss volleys left and right, and even fall on your ass at some point. But with the cool spring night breeze on your sweat-slick skin and a lack of the pressure you thought you'd feel when sparring with Art, that 10 AM lecture class you have tomorrow feels light years away.

- When you've both had enough (well, you're sick of running after missed balls and you feel bad for making Art watch you flounder) you thank him, trying not to fall into realm of gratuitous gratitude. "I know it's not what you're used to, and it felt like torture at times, but thank you. I had a lot of fun losing to you."

- "You're not terrible," Art says, looking at you. Really looking at you, a soft smile on his face. You open your mouth to protest, but he tilts his head back a certain way as if to say Are you really going to debate me on that? Me? And you avoid breaking into a gigantic grin, but your giddiness is evident.

- You felt drunk on luck. First he offers to be your partner for the night, then he complements you. Well, sort of, but it's enough to make your heart stammer in your chest.

- You'd be lying if you said Art didn't look beautiful under the florescent light of the tennis court, a light sweat above his brow. And the scent of his musk, it could grow addicting.

- and you'd be lying if you said Art wasn't the reason why you continued to practice tennis on late nights. Some nights you saw him practicing with someone, sometimes he was alone, sometimes he showed up after you, but most nights you practiced alone. But lighting can strike twice, you told yourself.

- It took until the night of your last final, but thankfully eventually Art approached you.

- "Most people leave as soon as their last final's over, but you're still here," He says. "Summer classes," is all you manage in return. You force a barely there smile with pressed lips. You're wrought with tension.

- "There's a two week bre--" "Can you teach me tennis?" You cut Art off, the words basically stumbling out of your mouth. "I can pay you whatever, and I won't whine, and I know you have your own practices, but I just want you. I want to play tennis with you."

- It's bold and you know you're asking for a lot. You hold your breath as you wait for an answer.

- Art pauses in consideration, turning your words over in his mind. And your heart twists like a wrung towel as you watch a faint smile tug on one side of his mouth. "If you can win against me, I'll coach you."

- Your mind goes into hyperdrive with inquiries. Why would he say that? Does he really believe I could beat him? What happens when I lose? Does he have to be this cruel? Am I too desperate? Is it obvious? And before you could even begin to verbalize such a question, you see Art setting down his tennis bags on the far end of the court.

- "Are you gonna go easy on me?" You yell from the other side as you stretch your upper body.

- "How could I assess your abilities as your coach without seeing how far you'll go?" Art asks when he finishes a set of side lunges.

- yeah, you're gonna lose.

- And at least it's not a humiliating loss. You've definitely improved since the first time you and Art played, even managing a point here and there (but deep down you feel like Art let you have those). And even though you've lost two of three games, you're laughing, you're joking, you're having fun. Even though you approached Art so seriously, so desperately, you can't take yourself seriously, not in earnest, even when playing for something as coveted as a Summer with Art. And you can't even hate yourself for it because you feel so free.

- "I won't torture you with the idea of a rematch, so thank you for playing with me." You say, hand extended as you walk towards the net. "I'll still see you around, right?"

- But Art doesn't respond when he shakes your hand. He kind of just stands there for a moment, shaking your hand in a trance.

- Within Art, something shifted, or clicked, rather.

- No stranger to desperation, he recognized it in you, saw himself reflected in your curious eyes. And though he expected himself to be more repulsed by your desperation, each volley blunted the edges of such an emotion.

- And it helped he saw what Tashi loved about tennis within you.

- Maybe you could've been great if you had more than a casual interest in the sport, or if you had started in the single digits like the rest of the college athletes, or if you stopped blowing rasberies and laughing everytime you hit the ball into the net. But you didn't care about greatness. And to Art, it almost seemed like you didn't care about winning him as a coach, not for lack of trying, but because you became someone else on the court. You found a liberation that Art could only dream of. A liberation that could only be afforded to someone who's highest aspiration is the intermural leagues. Your relationship with tennis, with your opponent was more self-serving. This was less of a relationship and more so voyeurism.

- And that appealed to Art in some capacity.

- "I mean, you played pretty well, considering," Art finally says, returning to himself. "Do Tuesdays work for you?"

- It scratches an itch to be wanted. Even if it isn't by the person you want.

- Art reminded himself of this, like a mantra, on the first night he cums to the thought of you. A late night tennis session turned mildly risqué with an absent minded question ("Do you think some people use rackets sexually?" You asked before the stream of laugh that followed due to Art's flusted expression) was all Art really needed to follow through on what was a burgeoning feeling.

- On one hand, Art struggled to remember why he's keeping himself from you. He's already this close. You never shy from his touch when he corrects your grip on the racket. You don't seem to mind sharing towels or water. And he feels the way you watch him, even when his back is turned.

- On the other, he's kicking himself. Even though he's only your senior by a year and he's not an official coach by any standard, it feels wrong. Especially when he's the catalyst in Tashi and Patrick's teetering relationship. You were meant to be a scapegoat if Patrick and Tashi got messy and Art's culpiblity was revealed. You were not supposed to stay.

- But being wanted is like a drug. And the thought of your mouth on his, along his body, around him, is irresistible.

- He knew, as he watched his cum thin out and disperse in the shower stream, that this wouldn't be the only time he came to the thought of you.

- (Should he feel ashamed that he's wrapped around your finger, too, even though you're the one who wants him so obviously?)

- Art leaves the locker room without looking in the mirror.

#my very first post and very first published fic #challengers #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson x you #challangers fic #challengers smut #VERY LIGHT SMUT MIGHT I ADD but its there #jamtoro #no beta we die like men #art sweetie (sweaty) i am so sorry if i did you wrong i promise to watch challengers again once i get paid

[mooishbeam]

『♡』 Obey Me

♡ featuring: kaeya x f!reader

♡ summary: you learn your lesson for disrespecting the calvary captain wc: 4.1k+ (i am so sorry)

♡ cw/tw: wax play, humiliation, degradation, sex toys, dacryphilia, rough sex, hard dom, overstim, orgasm torture, edging, bondage, squirting, pet play if you squint, kaeya is kind of an asshole, pet names (dove, pretty girl, sweetie)

notes: idk how the word count did that I'm too silly. feral kaeya does something to me tbh. n e way I promise a shorter one next time hehe. art by ttalby_ on ig <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Kaeya isn’t used to feeling like this.  

The interesting days of tasks and adventitious missions superseded his need for activities outside of the Knights of Favonius. He often stumbled—more so, needlessly interjected—into petty situations. He lived for theatrics, an audience to indulge emotion and intimacy in its most vulnerable state. A man who solves the problems of the public before his own knew neither authentic nor genuine connection. Kaeya was well aware of how easily he made hearts swoon, with a silver tongue and attractive timbre, a mask imperceptible. When you arrived as an apprentice for the 6th Company, he assumed you’d be just as easy, just as captivated. You were anything but. You barely acknowledged his existence for the first year, and he’d be wrong to say your lack of dalliance didn’t chip away at his self-esteem. 

Something egotistical in him wanted your attention. Romantic prospects were dispensable to him, but you had to know who he was. After all, who doesn’t love the Calvary Captain?  

Just for fun he told himself, as you became the first person to turn him flushed and sow seeds of doubt surrounding love in his heart. Kaeya finally managed to achieve your regard and all you asked for was his name. The audacity of you, to ask the captain who he is? He nearly busted out laughing. He gently held your hand and kneeled to kiss it, maintaining eye contact throughout. 

“Kaeya, my dear.” 

You were surprised to find him waiting for you outside the headquarters one day, handsome navy strands haloed in confidence, a delicate flower and perfumed letter in hand. Kaeya watched you read it in silence, his poem dedicated to you, requesting a date. You couldn’t help but smile at his charm, despite his sweaty palms as he awaited your answer. An accumulation of the little things; the bouquet of roses he bought you weekly, so you’d always have a fresh one, making sure you were always hydrated, his ability to make you laugh in trying times. You were both full of adoration, though he wouldn’t admit how invested he was. The only person who glimpsed the truth was Diluc. Kaeya rambled in his drunken stupor at the tavern, and Diluc sighed at the overdramatic sonnet. “My heart beats for her like no other. Will this be my fate? My Greek tragedy?” he mumbled through hiccups. 

As your relationship blossomed, work withered. An emerging problem reared its ugly head. Your assignments consumed your daily life and dwindled the moments spent with Kaeya. In the beginning stages of dating he understood, exuding nothing but patience and encouraging words. He didn’t expect you to drop work for him, and he was willing to accommodate the hectic schedule. Romantic gestures were limited to light caresses or kisses, clandestine sessions in abandoned alleyways. Frequent dates reduced to a couple a week, then a month, then none. The worst instances were when you assured Kaeya you’d arrive, only to call him a couple hours later with a tired apology, still stuck at your office. You promised him you’d make time for yourself and practice self-care, but it was evident you weren’t listening to his advice. You were no stranger to quickies, kindly offering them to Kaeya if he ever needed “destressing”. But the captain was never a fan of rushed affairs. He wanted desperately to share extended time with you, and you had none to give. It became easier to lie than to admit how overworked you were. 

Kaeya didn’t come to headquarters today, but you recall the conversation from the previous night. 

“Mm, I’m missing my little dove. Think you can come see me?” he said, tilting your chin up to meet his loving gaze. 

“Of course. I don’t have a lot of work tomorrow so I should be done early.” 

“Great. I’ll make dinner for us. Be at my place by 8, okay?” You agreed to the timeframe. 

Now that you’re comprehending the incomplete documents strewn across your desk, you regret your conviction. You shouldered the weight of everyone in your division. It’s getting close to the date, and you’ve barely scratched the surface. You fumble for concentration, anchoring down to finish the rest of the list. You make haste and shove the papers at Hertha. I still have time to get there you thought. Glancing up at the clock as you dart out the building, your eyes widen at what it reads. 10:15 pm. 

Fuck. You’re running now, skirt bouncing and bag rustling, navigating busy streets with an uneasy mind. Once again you promised, and once again you broke it. How could you be so careless? You catch your breath when your hand contacts the door. You relax before giving a few light knocks. The door swings open.  

Kaeya’s hair is free from its usual constraints, draping down his back and shoulders, wispy bangs hugging his sharp features. He’s clearly pissed reclining against the doorframe. He stares at you with his arms folded in front of the parted button down that peaks into the muscular, scarred chest underneath. 

“Kaeya, I-” 

“Get inside.” He turns and walks to the kitchen. You follow him inside and take note of the cold portion of a beautiful plate—presumably your meal—sitting on the table. He swishes the nearly finished red wine before taking a sip. You search aimlessly for an acceptable excuse while he leans against the table with his hand, glass in the other, eyes trained to the floor. Each second of silence simmering makes your stomach knot tighter, and he lets you stand uncomfortably.  

“I’m sorry, I... There were a few roads closed in the area. I had to take a different route.” you fib. He gazes at you, panning up and down before forcing a sarcastic smile. 

“How unfortunate. Are these the same roads that made you three hours late?" His jaw tightens. 

“It was pretty busy today-”  

“I’m feeling generous tonight, so I'll give you one more chance to be honest.”  

You sighed. “I’m so sorry. There’s been a lot of work lately. It’s not fair to you to deal with my problems.” He scoffs deeply, downing the rest of the glass and sets it on the table. 

“If this isn’t working for you, I understand.” 

“Oh? Are you suggesting a separation? Not even the gall to try and make it up to me?” he sneers. 

“You’re handsome and people like you. It’s not hard to find other options.” 

“If it’s not hard, why is the one thing I truly desire so difficult to hold? A petal drifting unpredictable wind, too quick to grasp.” He starts stalking towards you, relaxed but seemingly irritated. The contrast between his words and actions unnerves you. 

“How many times must I tell you to take care of yourself, to not let them walk over you, to come to me if you need help?” He gets to you and snakes his calloused hand behind your neck, a firm grip. Yearning lips are inches from yours, his hair tickles your eyelashes. 

“Why can’t you just listen to me, (Y/N)? Hmm?” He’s lenient, but you feel a shiver up your back and heat pooling in your stomach, nonetheless. 

“I’ll try harder. I promise.” you say, barely above a whisper. The pad of his thumb swirls your cheek. 

“I won’t entertain promises. Show me your dedication.” 

“What do I do to prove it?” A sadistic grin grows across his face, and lips graze your ear, sultry voice coiling around the shell. Your breath stalls. 

“Tonight, I’ll eat you up slowly-” Kaeya peppers soft kisses between the words against your jaw. “-savoring every. Little. Bite.” He trails down to your neck. You're melting in his hold, grabbing his robust arms for anything to stabilize you. "And when I’m picking you apart, and there’s tears in your eyes and you’re begging and you can’t take it anymore-” He drinks up your anticipation, an amused chuckle from the shudder prickling your skin.  

“-you’ll sit there and obey me until I'm done. Like a good pet.” 

You’re stripped of everything besides your underwear in front of the restlessly eager man. Standing in the center of this candlelit room, you feel miles away from him as he sits fully clothed on the edge of the bed. He’s lax, legs spread with a nonchalant posture; they invite you to kneel between them. Sex with Kaeya was never like this. Though infrequent, your back-alley blowjobs were done with kindness and haste. It was one thing for Kaeya to ogle your mouthwatering figure, another in the humiliating state he constrains you to. Your hands are bound by leather handcuffs that clip to a chunky black collar on both sides, limiting the movement of your wrists to just centimeters away from your face. You could move if you tried to, but the collar locked and tightened around your neck the harder you struggled. In the middle was attached a dangling leash, empty of its owner.  

The vibrating lace panties he put you in buzz agonizingly low against your clit, sending gentle bursts to the butt plug filling deep, foreign space in your body. You’re glutted, chafing your thighs together to numb the sweet ache dotting your core. 

“C’mere dove.” Kaeya orders, his finger curls in a guiding motion. You take one step assuming his entreat, and he retorts with a tut. 

“Aht aht, dogs don’t walk. Get on your knees and crawl to me.” Embarrassment overcomes you as you drop to your knees from the filthy demand. It’s degrading, having to crawl without the use of your arms. You scuffle with balance, and he takes pleasure in playing with the controller. Your rocking rear and wobbly legs find rhythm on the floor through the violent highs and lows of vibration. It was harder due to the position you stumbled in; the bullet teases you in the right spots. You finally reach him, resting your head on his knee, exhausted for what’s to come. He merely pats your head and uses the other to stifle the smug smirk. 

“Good puppy. Look at me.” Suddenly, he wraps the leash around his hand and pulls in taut. It snaps your eyes to his lustful expression, a thick aura that encapsulates you, suffocates you in his command. Kaeya zips his pants down to spring his throbbing cock free, a dark brown gradient to the mushroom tip.  

“Suck. If you let anything spill, I’ll punish you” he cooes. You lick the pre come away, fixating on the sensitive tip. His breathy sighs show appreciation. You lick in circular motions around it before lolling your tongue and taking all of him between your lips. His girth makes space in your mouth impossible until the head presses the back of your throat. “Ugh, fuck” he groans. Kaeya stands and pulls the leash towards him, enough to nuzzle your nose against his pubes. You gag and slobber over his balls from the constant pressure in your throat, and he keeps you there, watching the tears ball in your eyes, unfazed by your retching pleas. He keeps a firm grip on the back of your head.  

“Can you take it?” It’s almost mocking, as if he can’t see the mascara that smears your cheeks and your sweaty, breathless figure. You nod anyway, eager to please. He hums approval before pulling out completely and hammering his length down your throat. His heavy balls smack your chin at a savage pace, and strings of spit connect your puffy lips to his shaft. It’s barbaric and your throat is raw from the impact, but he chases his high. You’re absolutely powerless, your hands can’t even push his thighs back. However, subconsciously it felt nice, to be out of control, at the mercy of someone else using you for their impulse. The whir in your soaking panties feels richer now, tangling in your lower back and clouding your senses. All you smell and feel is him, it was like you never worked a day in your life. Like you were made for this, and this alone. Obscene noises come from your squelching mouth and Kaeya’s broken moans. Fuck and yes are all he can handle through constant whimpers, and you feel him trembling toward his release. He tilts your head to get a better view of you, spit and tears mixed with strands of hair stuck to your skin. You were a mess. But his eyes are solely on you, drenched in adoration and pure love for your trust in him.  

“I want this pretty face on me when I come” he whines and speeds up his thrusts before spurting hot, creamy ropes down your throat, painting your mouth white. He twitches wildly on your tongue till rest, and his guttural moans echo in your ears as you hollow your cheeks to suck him clean. A satisfying pop emerges when you free his tip, and he recollects himself. He somehow looks completely untouched, besides the sheen of sweat; the poise of a prince. 

Once Kaeya comes to his senses, he eyes the evidence of wetness that soaks through your panties, along with drops of pre come you failed to notice. Truthfully, you tried hard to avoid spilling anything, but the sensations in both your back and front were dizzying. He drawls a dramatic sigh, and loosely fiddles with the leash. 

“Didn’t I say not to spill anything?” His words are methodical, weaving enough vitriol to make your blood still at the upcoming punishment. “I’m sorr-” 

“You made a mess. Clean it.” He drops the leash and waits. What you assumed to be a towel clean-up was quickly refuted as you felt the tension of his boot press on your upper back. With just enough weight, he forces your body down towards the fluids, arms crossed. You lick it up without complaint. “Good puppy” he praises. 

Kaeya picks you up as if you’re featherlight and sets you on the edge of the bed on your stomach. You can’t see what he’s doing, and the silence frightens you. Immediately, the judder of the bullet increases significantly—not enough to make you come, but just enough to torment. You attempt to sway from undying heat between your legs, yet the static overtakes. Unbeknownst to you, the butt plug begins to vibrate, as well. You whine and arch your back involuntarily. You finally hear a deep chuckle from Kaeya. His fingers graze your sopping underwear. 

“So naughty, you got like this just from sucking me off?” He pushes the bullet harshly against you. You mewl from the feeling. “Please Kaeya, it’s too much.” 

“Shh, I know, I know. We still have a long way to go.” he soothes. He spreads your ass to reveal more area, and he’s hushed to an alluring whisper in your ear. “(Y/N). I’m going to spank you. And each time I do, you’ll count. One, thank you. Two, thank you. Up to sixteen. Understand?” 

“Yes” you rasped. 

“Good girl.” 

Kaeya massages your backside and prepares a slap. His palm crashes sharply on one with a resounding crack. Blazing surge sprawls across the whole cheek, but you manage to stay afloat. “One, thank you.” He promptly delivers another, a staggering strike to match the other cheek. “Two, thank you” you hissed. He kneads the smoldering dough in his hands and smiles at the juices stuck to your inner thighs. 

“Such a pervert. You’re not enjoying this, are you?” he teases. The lines of pleasure and pain blurred for you long before. The crackling fire of his hand swatting your ass makes you cry out. He’s brutal, and the grip you have on his sheets colors your knuckles white. You endure delicious thwacks with a tender bottom all the way through thirteen. Your malleable mind forgets to count past that, forgets your place. Kaeya feigns hurt. “Am I that forgettable? Should we start over?” A shudder trails down your back. 

“M’no, Kaeya ple-ase. ‘M sorry.” you stammer. He swipes your tears with his thumb and licks it. “I’m touched by your tears” he groans. He moves back to your searing bottom, digging crescent shaped indents into the welted flesh with his nails. 

“Do you know why I had you count to sixteen?” 

“N-no...” 

A low hmph. “That’s the number of dates you missed.” You go pale for a second. “It won’t happen again, Kaeya. Please!” you beg. The need for release ruins your rational thoughts, and he can taste your desperation. “Please what, dove?” He plays ignorance. “Tell me exactly what you want.” He caresses your face lovingly, despite his cruelty. 

“Wanna come, I need it so bad, Kaeya.” His name rolling off your tongue in lewd fervor makes his length constrict in his pants. You’re putty in his presence, and he delights in molding you to his wishes. 

"Are you worthy of it?" he taunts. Fresh tears brim your eyes, and he can’t fight back the snicker in his throat. He walks away from you, and you’re left alone until you feel the mattress give way under his knee. What little sight you had in front of you is robbed by the silky black blindfold pulling stiff on your eyes. “Too tight?” 

“A little.” He loosens it a bit and kisses your temple. Suddenly, a sphere makes contact with your lips, and you open. The ball gag secures around the back of your head, and you’re already salivating from the stretch of your jaw. 

“You know what, I’ll let you come.” he lulled. You can’t hear the malicious tinge in his words, and he swiftly turns both vibrators up to a harrowing speed at the same time. A strangled moan gets caught in your throat and you quiver and lurch over. He spanks your sore behind in response. 

“Keep your back arched. I want a perfect view” he husks. You use the stamina you have left to stay in that position. Your hips are unconsciously rutting against the bullet, and the ecstasy lapping at your swollen clit sends trails of fire up your stomach. Kaeya watches the saturated outline of your convulsing vulva, the honeyed, muffled moans unending and palms his erection.  

“I’m sorry, this must be so hard for you” he soothes. “Almost as hard as it was for me to hear you lie so blatantly.” Kaeya wasn’t a man that held grudges, but he took amusement in your reactions. All he can think about is breaking you, with each touch and kiss; so that you travel through heaven and hell, drowning in desire until he carries you out. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you come hard, hole fluttering around nothing with electricity squirming in your bones. However, the pressure doesn’t stop, it seems to vibrate faster as you buck and cry. “Oops, wrong setting.” He turns it up higher, the bastard. It rips through your orgasm, already approaching another and you can’t take the sting. “Tell me if it’s too much” he sneers. Your hands jolt and snap back to the collar.  

“I’ll turn it off later, I’m kind of busy right now. You know, work and stuff.” What? He wouldn’t leave you like this, right? Undecipherable noises bounce around the gag, but none persuade him. Footsteps get quieter, then the door shuts.  

You can’t look or beg for Kaeya, and tears begin to stain the blindfold. Buzzing roars in your ears, your limbs are too weak to hold up and you can barely breathe. Your thighs shake from sick passion, and you come undone again over the persistent toys. The twenty minutes he was gone felt like hours. Your muffled sobs are uncontrollable, come cascading down your legs and spit dribbles from your lips. You aren’t sure how many times you came before he got back.  

The Archons must have shown mercy; the vibrations stopped. You hear that suave voice resounding in your brain. 

“I think you’ve earned a break.” he says, freeing the panties from you. The plug steadily glides out of your pulsing ring, and he removes the blindfold. Kaeya is the first thing you see, and for a moment he shines like royalty. The gag comes off and you’re babbling Kaeya’s name over and over like a chant, a devoted disciple. He cradles your face and hushes you. 

“It’s okay, I’m here.” He flips you on your back. You’re in a daze gazing at him but his attention is lowered to your spread legs, slabbering at the slippery aftermath of his abandonment. 

“Beautiful. A living work of art” he whispered. His mask dissolves before you. He reaches for one of the red candles glowing vividly on his nightstand and returns with the wax-leaking stick. You share a soft kiss, warm and pure while he tilts the candle over your chest. He’s careful with the course and allows it to dance across your breasts, down your sternum and above your pelvis. Each crimson plop and fleck are its own singing thrill, but your awareness is diverted to his wanton kisses, the nips on your bottom lip. Heat reignites your core. Once he blows out the candle, he smudges French kisses down your neck, tracing the pattern of the wax to subdue the burn. “You’re flawless” he breaths against your nipple. He sucks one while pinching the other, the occasional bite on your slightly bruising skin makes you wince. He slides off the bed and starts stripping with an insatiable thirst that longed to be inside you, shirt and pants thrown about. In one swoop, he grabs your thighs and pulls you to the edge.  

“If I uncuff you, will you behave?” You nod frantically with the clinking metal, and he detaches the restraints. He brings your legs over his shoulder, and you feel the cockhead prodding your slit. Kaeya sinks his tip into you, and you’re suddenly overcome with frenetic throbbing that ripples through your hypersensitive clit. “W-wait, Kaeya-” You don’t have nearly enough strength to protest when you grab his wrists settled on your waist—he’s determined to fuck it out of you. “Mm, just a little more” He’s craving, his veins rub your walls all the way to the base. With his balls flush, he pulls out and drives into you. The first pump sends a flaming shock through your body, an abyssal fall you succumb to. You can’t register the erotic screams or pleasant shock of Kaeya as a stream of liquid coats your bodies and drenches the sheets. Your hysterical sobs and innocent sorry’s are music to his ears, better than any melody in Teyvat. He rubs circles on your lower belly and starts again at an unrelenting pace. “I-I can’t Kaeya, ‘m coming so hard.” you wail, writhing from the deep strokes coaxing your g-spot. Your stomach quakes and you grip him like a vice, he can’t stop the feral urge. “Fuck- aww, sweetie. I know, I know. Can you do another one, for me?” He tries to keep his composure, but his voice is bordering unhinged, dying to see you squirt again. Kaeya's chest pins yours and he pummels your cunt with your shaky legs locked around him. Your nails latch onto his back and you weep into his shoulder. The emotion is too intense; your heart thrums viciously in your ears.  

“You’re my pretty little fuck toy, hmm?” he stutters through thrusts. “Just lay here and take my cock. Quit your job. Be mine entirely.” Loud plap’s accompany his silent plea, and you feel another orgasm boiling. His palm pressing on your womb makes you incoherent and he chuckles. “Aw sweetie, it feels too good?” he mocks. You touch foreheads. You’re both teeming, waiting for each other. “Give it to me. Come on my cock like a good slut” he demands. Wave after relentless wave splinters you, and the gushing sprinkler covers him exactly like he wanted. Kaeya moans at the sight. “Shit, ‘m coming.” He pursues his sputtering hips, shooting thick globs that greedily crowd your sex.  

Kaeya breathes heavily as he comes down from his peak twitching inside. You still tremble sporadically in his arms. He rubs your back, placing calming kisses all over your face. “You alright, pretty girl?” You’re edging on unconsciousness. He stays with you until you gather responsiveness.  

When you wake, the collar is off, and you identify concern in his eyes. “You weren't this scared when you were killing me” you murmur quietly. Kaeya flashes a genuine smile. “If you died from good sex, that’d be quite the compliment on my part.” He props you into his lap facing him, and you're reposed on his chest. He pats your hair, staring off into nothing and everything. 

“I’d much rather have you in pieces. Because I’m the only one that can put you back together.” It was a passing thought, one that shouldn’t be said out loud. It churns in your gut, and you aren’t sure why. 

“You worked so hard today. Let’s take a bath, okay?” 

#genshin smut #genshin x reader #genshin impact #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaeya #kaeya smut #kaeya