#ok tag time | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

qaevze · 2 years

Text

god forgive me

♡ sub!kaeya, fucking surprise

♡cw: alcohol, god!reader, u are the anemo archon, gn reader, penetrative sex but no parts mentioned on either end, sort of dacryphilia, general cosmic knowledge bullshit

♡a/n: what am i doing. someone take this man away from me

“I think you’ve had a bit too much,” comes a flirtatious voice behind you. Though the first floor of the tavern is always crowded and cheerful, the second stays quiet enough for you to recognize the voice’s owner.

“What makes you say that?” you reply without turning around. The answer was obvious– empty glasses litter the table you’d claimed in the dim corner– but Kaeya wasn’t one for small talk. No, if he’d gone out of his way to find you, there was a more important reason.

Gloved hands press into the faded wood next to you, along with a glass that smells of Death After Noon, as the Captain leans over the table. “Rough day, was it?”

“I didn’t know you cared.”

“Is it so astonishing that I’d care for my God?”

Your hands playing with the splintering wood of the table stilled. There had always been cityfolk that knew your secret, but not many had so shamelessly flaunted their knowledge. It would seem fitting of the Spymaster to keep you on your toes. It wouldn’t be right, though, you decide, to let someone so brazen play games with a god.

“I didn’t take you for the type,” you answer measuredly, turning to meet his eye. “But then, I didn’t think I’d mentioned who I was to you before. Perhaps I’ve just scratched the surface in my perception of you.”

And perhaps the human drink has finally reached your brain, you think, as his visible eye glitters at your words. “Let’s get you home,” are the words that fall from his lips, neatly avoiding your implications. Fitting of the Knights, so good at backing out of impossible corners.

Your thoughts almost distract you from his next question.

“Where do you stay?”

You smile and lean in close, close enough Kaeya can hear you over the music and laughter of the tavern when you speak. “I don’t stay. I move where the winds lead me. And tonight, they’ve led me to you.”

He watches you, always so critical, as you lift his Death After Noon to your lips and let the sweet wine slide down your throat.

“Are you sure?” he asks, almost surprised. The wine hits your blood but does nothing to dull your mind. So difficult, to get drunk on the spirits of mortals. But there are other ways, you reason, to intoxicate oneself. And a new door just opened.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You don’t have any sense of danger? No regard for your safety?”

You shift slowly, leaning in towards the Captain. “You overestimate yourself,” you murmur, slow and sure. “Do you think you know more than me? Do you think I haven’t watched over you since you stumbled into my land? Do you think you would have thrived here without my blessing?”

You move closer, close enough that your lips brush against his ear when you say, “Do you think I don’t know you better than you know yourself?”

Kaeya freezes for a minute, but manages to maintain his façade. “If we’re to continue this conversation, it should be when you’re sober,” he relents.

“Such kindness,” you reply. So much this mortal didn’t know, so much he thought he did. You decide to keep to yourself that the wine had nothing to do with your disposition.

The scenes of the tavern and the streets blur as calloused hands guide you outside and into the night. You smile to yourself quietly– you hadn’t even had to ask– as the lights of the townhouses come into view.

The first thing you notice is that the decoration is sparse. A boy from two broken families would want less to miss, but the reality of it brings you to your senses. The music and blurriness of the city fall away to the quiet understatedness of the apartment.

Wordlessly, you remove your shoes and cross the room to wrap your arms around the Captain’s slender waist from behind.

“Poor lonely boy,” you whisper to him, your voice deep and rasping. “So underappreciated, so hopelessly unaware of the love this city feels for you.” Your grip tightens, sliding down over his hips. “Let me show you how much Mondstadt loves you.”

“You’re Mondstadt itself, are you?” comes his reply, breathless and questioning. Kaeya turns in your hands, tracing the softly glowing veins of your arms from elbow to wrist. The new orientation allows for you to let your fingertips wander, closer to where you wanted them.

“Yes,” is your simple answer. “The city, the lands, the people. I thought you knew.”

His back arches into you at the command of a wandering hand.

“I know your value to my people,” you continue, other hand tugging at his bottom lip, admiring its fullness. “I know what you deserve, outlander. You have the blessing of the Anemo Archon, is that not enough for you?

His stunned silence keeps you talking– you’ve never seen the Cavalry Captain speechless before. “Few can say they’ve caught the attention of a god. Some might consider themselves honored. Some might praise and worship me. But I like you best because you wouldn’t do any of that at all.” You brush a stray lock of hair out of his face carefully. “Beautiful little thing, let me show you how wanted you are.”

“You’re awfully confident,” comes his reply, deliberate as he brings your hand on his face to his lips, sucking at the worn, scarred flesh.

The time between the exchange at the front door and arriving in bed seems nonexistent. You hover over the mortal, veins thrumming with magic as you move to rid him of his clothes.

His submission catches you off guard, however, when he melts into your touch, letting his eye flutter shut as your fingers swiftly work open the laces of his corset and belt with an adept familiarity, as if you had put them on the Captain yourself. When the buttons of his shirt come undone, you busy yourself with his chest, and when you finally manage to peel his tight pants down his thighs, your teeth sink into the soft brown skin of his stomach.

Desperate hips rock against your chin, looking for friction. When your exploring touch finds his tight rim, you hear a barely muffled gasp from above you. That’s what I’m looking for.

“Do you have anything to help with this?” you mumble against his skin, biting back a laugh when he clenches tighter at the sound of your voice.

“Bedside table”, he answers, desperately trying to hide the shakiness of his voice. You fish in the drawer until you draw up an oil, one you first remember being used for this purpose hundreds of years ago. You push the Knight’s knees apart.

“Just like that,” you murmur, pouring the shining golden liquid over your fingers. Before the excess can spill over your palms, you press it into him, deliberate and unceremoniously. Try as you might, your eyes never stray from between his thighs as you coax your toying fingers deeper. Deft and smooth as ever, you spread him open before your prying, all-seeing eyes, as if to peel away all his secrets with the display.

Kaeya’s sweet moans brought your attention back to the present, the present where you were feeling and human and vulnerable, where another ached just out of reach of your fingertips. The present, the reality, where you could realize how much you needed to be inside the mortal crying out and stuffed full of your digits as soon as possible.

The show of his hole spreading and twitching for you almost distracted your focus enough to forget your intentions. Almost, but not quite. You stare into his bottomless, starry eye as you slide into him.

Settling your hands around the halo of blue hair, you rolled your hips forward, tender and forgiving. “I love you,” you whisper as you feel his body tremble under yours.

“You’re d-drunk,” he accuses, gasping in time with your soft thrusts. “D-don’t say things like that unless you mean it.”

Your reply comes easily. “You think I don’t?” Your lips graze the soft incline of his cheekbones. “I speak for my city. I speak for my land and all of its people. I am the wind and sky, the lifeblood of the land.”

“I love you, Kaeya.”

“Ahhhh!”

“We are your home. We love you.”

“Don’t say that, I told you–”

“I am your home. I love you.”

It had been so, so long since anyone had told Kaeya that he was loved.

The cruel emotional overstimulation you insisted on putting him through makes tears shine in his eye; that unknowable, sparkling eye. It also makes him tighten around you again.

As Kaeya’s lips part in protest, you press his knees back against his chest and drive yourself in further, reaching down to draw his lips to yours. “I love you,” you repeat, quieter against his lips before tugging his lip into your teeth. You pretend not to notice the tears that wet your cheek.

Kaeya’s fingers dig into your back, pushing you deeper, closer, as if all he wanted was to end up in a world where only you would tell him he was loved, over and over, until he could understand. The sound of his orgasm is carried on the melody of a wordless sob. His tears stream down his face in rivers now, and you lick them off his face one by one, buried deep inside as he clings to you tightly.

Well done, you think to yourself, as the Knight shakes and sobs at your mercy. What better way to welcome a mortal home than to show him his god’s love firsthand?

—nawt betad bc i don’t have one still.

1K notes · View notes