#lux.kaeya | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thundersoothers · 2 years

Text

sex with me, so amazing

or, genshin men as people i’ve hooked up with.

who: multi/basically everyone (mentioned: childe, diluc, itto, kaeya, kazuha, zhongli)

what: drabbles; describing my hook ups and who in genshin would be like them. don’t take it too seriously.

wc: 2.1k

warnings: ns/fw and angst :)) just a little bit of angst though, mostly smut ofc :D

1. 8 inch cock. even when you take him down your throat the deepest you can go, until your eyes water and you gag, you still can fit 5 fingers between your lips and the soft hair on his pelvis. so thick you can’t wrap your hand around it. big, heavy, hot. so long that he has to stretch you out in order for it to fit inside.

the first time you see it, your jaw drops. “holy fuck,” you gasp. “I don’t think it’s gonna fit.”

“you’ll make it fit,” he says. “stop running away; be a good girl and take it.”

sometimes it really is too big, though, if he doesn’t take the time to stretch you out. after the first time of his cock being too big, hurting a little too much than it feels good when he tries to go all the way in, he never lets you or himself rush into things.

foreplay is methodical. he eats you out because he loves it. he loves the feeling of your hands fisting his hair as he slides one, then two, and finally three fingers inside of you. loves the taste of your pussy, the hardness of your clit on his tongue. loves digging his fingers into your soft thighs that tremble and squeeze around his head. loves the sounds you make, the whimpers and the whines, when you beg for him to just fuck you already. loves the way your body writhes, the feeling of your cunt loosen then tighten and spasm around his fingers, the cries you make when you cum against his face.

he’s already hard when you kneel on still quivering legs in front of him, kissing up his thighs, leaving little marks and bites, running your hands over his soft skin. you don’t give him head with the purpose of trying to make him cum — not that often, at least. most times, it’s foreplay and also a game: a competition of whether it’s you who will pull away first, heaving for breath, asking for him to fuck you, or him who will get frustrated and push you off of him so he can turn you over and fuck you.

he’s most sensitive around his tip, which is wide and red and tastes tangy but not bad, so normally you focus on sucking the top half of his cock while your hand works around the rest. “take what you can, that’s— yes, fuck, that’s it. just like that. just like that, baby, keep doing that.”

when you do try to take him all the way down your throat, though, the incentive to keep going is the way his breath stutters and he wheezes, “oh, fuck, yes.” but when his cock inevitably presses too hard against the back of your mouth, you gag and pull off with a cough.

you let his heavy cock rest against your face while you suck on his balls to give yourself a moment to breathe, and you look up at him with teary eyes. he looks back down at you and says, almost in disbelief, “fuck, you’re so hot.” then he picks you up, throws you onto the bed, tells you to get on your stomach, and then pounds you into the mattress.

says shit like:

“relax, just relax. I’m gonna give you everything you need. don’t be impatient.”

“‘it’s too big?’ it’s barely even in, baby. you can take it, I know you can.”

“you’ll make it fit. now, be good for me and keep still.”

he moans your name.

“fuck, you feel good. you’re so fucking wet. you take me so well.”

“that feels good, doesn’t it? yeah? tell me how it feels. what was that? oh, you can’t even use your words?” he laughs when you get breathless, when he’s fucking you too hard and too fast for you to form words.

and always amazed, like he can’t believe it, “you’re so hot.”

when you both get close, he flips you over onto your back. he puts a pillow under your lower back, and leans down to spit on your cunt and kiss your clit. he put one of your legs over his shoulder and you wrap the other around his waist. he grips the headboard with one hand and touches your body softly, like he’s not saying obscene things and fucking the life out of you, with the other. and then he fucks you even harder.

he’s so deep that you can feel him in your stomach.

when you reach down to touch your clit, your other hand scratching down his back, he says stuff like:

“yes, that’s it, baby, go ‘head, make yourself feel good.”

“you gonna cum? yeah? you’re gonna cum all over my cock?”

“you look so pretty like this.”

he pulls out after you cum so he can finish on your stomach, but he cums so hard and so much, with his hand wrapped around his thick cock, pumping quickly, that it goes from your lower stomach all the way up to between your breasts. while you lay back to catch your breath, he wipes you off with a towel and licks your tits clean.

his dick is big and he knows how to use it. he says and does the right things, even if it’s not exceedingly kinky – (maybe you’ll get to that point later, you think). honestly, it’s the best foreplay, head, and sex you’ve ever had.

but he never stays for long after. there’s no emotions in your arrangement, really; it’s just hooking up. there’s no hanging out after and talking. and that’s fine with you, really. you aren’t sure there would be any compatibility between you for being in a relationship, anyway. but you definitely have chemistry in bed.

once he’s sure you’re coming down okay, he kisses you on the lips and rubs over your cheek with his thumb. he murmurs a promise of, “I’ll see you later,” and then walks out the door.

he doesn’t follow through.

this time, when the door closes behind him, it’s the last time you ever see him.

↳ diluc, ITTO, zhongli?

2. solid 5/5.5ish inches. fits perfectly; not too big, not too small. the weight feels good on your tongue; it isn’t as hard to take all of him in your mouth, until you can look up at him with your lips wrapped around the very base of his cock. sex is less about finishing and more about the process—about feeling, about the sensations.

after the first time you hook up, you realize: it’s making love, not fucking. you really don’t know each other that well, but he holds you like he’s afraid you’re going to disappear. speaks to you like you’re one of the most important people in his life. touches you like you’re the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. fucks you like he’s in love with you.

it leaves you reeling. it’s confusing being treated like that so immediately, but it’s also nice. the orgasms you have are different than you’ve ever experienced before. the physical vaginal pleasure isn’t anything special, really (… you’ve had better dick), but the way you feel throughout your body and mind when you’re with him is so intense.

it’s not about the orgasm specifically; it’s about the way you feel leading up to it, the process; the slow build leading up to an orgasm where you feel pleasure and relief throughout your entire body.

hooking up is about you. he loves kissing you; sometimes it feels like he likes it even more than having sex. his lips are on yours for so long, seemingly not in a rush at all, even with his hard on pressing against your thigh and making a damp spot on his boxers. he only stops when you get restless and pent up and force him away. then his lips are on your neck, over your chest with his tongue circling your nipples in a way that has you shuddering, down your stomach until he kisses your hip bones—the left and then the right, skipping your cunt and going straight to your thighs.

after all of the drawn out foreplay, when he finally puts his cock in, it feels like a hot, striking, all-encompassing instant relief for both of you. like it’s everything you’ve ever needed and wanted in your whole life. moaning into each other’s mouths, both your and his eyes rolling back, your bodies shuddering against each other.

it’s overwhelming. it feels like you’re burning, like there’s nothing else you could possibly think about or focus on other than him, like this is all you’ve ever needed and wanted. you feel good all over, and it’s clear he does too.

he doesn’t stop kissing you, touching all over your body, making sure as much of his skin is pressed against yours. moaning in your ear, telling you how beautiful you are, how sexy you look, how good you feel, the way your cunt is so wet and warm and tight for him and him only. how he wants to feel you cum around his cock, that he wants to see how hot you look when you cum for him.

“I want you to cum. it doesn’t matter how long it takes,” he says. “we aren’t in a rush. just make yourself feel good, baby. take what you need.”

his dick isn’t huge, but it isn’t small either. it feels best when he puts your ankles over his shoulders and kisses the inside of your leg gently as if he isn’t fucking you into the mattress with his hand resting against your lower stomach; when he presses his body to yours and makes love to your body until you write under him and cum hard around his cock; when he grips your waist as you ride him and digs his fingers into your hips, worshiping the plush of your thighs, the softness of your ass, until he pulls you against him so he can moan into your mouth as he cums.

he says stuff like:

“fuck, that feels so good. you’re so good, baby, shit, don’t stop.”

“don’t hide, let me see you. fuck, you look so pretty. you’re so beautiful.”

“you gonna cum? yeah? that’s it, baby, cum for me. you can do it. be good and cum for me.”

of course, it isn’t all lovey and vanilla and soft. like when his hands stop exploring your body and instead squeeze your throat. or one time when he said, “you’re so loud,” and then stuck his fingers into your mouth. or when he pulled your hair and held your face in his hands as he fucked your mouth until he came down your throat and then kissed you after.

you find it unfortunate that the way he treats you is so refreshing. you find it special, different, even surprising, that he treats you so well when you’re with each other. he doesn’t act like you matter as a person only when you’re having sex, and that makes you sad for yourself.

but it also makes you care—a little bit more than you should in your fuck buddy arrangement. it’s hard to eliminate emotions when it feels like you’re in love with each other when you hook up.

he just seems so fucking into you. like, who fucks you like he loves you and says this shit kind of shit when you’re just supposed to be fuck buddies?

“you should sleep over.” it wasn’t all that ‘you can stay if you want to’ bullshit. no, it was, “I want you to.” and it was every single time you came over, too.

“when can I see you? I’m hard as fuck thinking about you. you wanna do something about it?”

“you should come during the day. I want to see your face.”

“if it was going to be anyone,” he said when you asked him about the boundaries of your arrangement one night, if you’re exclusive, if it’s just hooking up and there’s no feelings, etc. “it’s you.”

he’s a liar.

you don’t know if he means to be. you don’t know if he realizes that he’s stringing you along in the grey area of whatever the fuck “it’s you” is. you don’t know if he wants to see your name in his phone apart from wanting to hook up. you don’t know if playing pretend being in a relationship and being in love with each other is hurting him, too.

but you do know that when you kiss him goodbye one morning, it’ll be the last time you’ll ever see him.

↳ CHILDE, KAEYA, kazuha, thoma

note: thank you for reading! and thank you so much for your patience. summer has started so I should be able to write more! :DD (though I am working full time ://)

I have more hook ups so if u want more just lmk lmfao. and as always, if u want to be tagged when I post, send an ask/dm. <33

taglist: @asimpleazur @shoobirino @hotgorlayato @genshinology (auni I hope tagging u is okay!)

posted 06.13.2022. do not repost or modify any of my original work on any other platform. to genshin masterlist.

119 notes · View notes

thundersoothers · 3 years

Text

attractive things the genshin boys do

who: childe, diluc, & kaeya x f!reader

what: drabbles; getting together & attractive things that the genshin boys do in modern college-ish age/a little older

wc: 6.1k

warnings: suggestive but nothing explicit

childe:

generally regarded as attractive, but he doesn’t care much about what other people think about him. confident, chill, and good company with everyone else, but with you, he’s a tease one moment and sweet the next.

he touches your back when he walks behind you, but not in a creepy way where his hand lingers on you or he actually shoves you, but in the way that his hand brushes over your back just enough that you feel it and become more aware of your surroundings—and then you feel him. feel him as if he’s fully pressed against you, like you can feel the heat of his body on your skin, like the whole of his hand is running over your lower back and not just his fingers. you glance in his direction after he passes, and he’s staring back at you.

he says shit like “oh, yeah?” and “make me” and “prove it” and looks so damn proud of himself when he teases you with a shit-eating grin and stares at you and your reactions with hooded, amused eyes. everything he does, even if it isn’t inherently attractive, is just so fucking sexy. when he takes his sweatshirt off and his shirt rides up, he makes eye contact with you and grins when he notices you staring at his abs and, oh, god, his v-line before he pulls his shirt back down. eventually, childe really will run his whole hand over your lower back when he walks behind you, leaving it on your waist for a moment and whispering, “excuse me, baby,” in your ear as he passes by you. gets a little rowdy and loud when with his friends and teammates, grabbing them around their neck and messing with their hair, the muscles in his forearm flexing and the veins in his hand coming out when he fists their hair. if he catches you looking at him, he’ll smirk at you and wink—before almost getting an elbow to the eye. he’s a little scary when he’s mad, with his arms crossed over his chest, standing tall with his head tilted up, looking down at the person, jaw clenched or a scary grin on his face. it’s kind of unnerving to see to you, but he thinks you’re hot when you’re mad, when you’re annoyed and antsy and riled up because of him. he’s strong; he works out and plays hard and has muscles everywhere—and he makes sure you know exactly what he looks like.

his pet names for you are baby or babe, pretty girl or sweetness, or any that will get a reaction out of you. his only motivation is seeing you get annoyed or embarrassed. when you do, he’ll tilt his head, quirk his eyebrow, and grin. “ohh, you like that? good.”

the duality of childe being able to tease you, make you flustered and irritated, and him being able to comfort you and be friendly and sweet and genuine, and the way he flips between those moods so easily and quickly, is jarring to you.

he pays for things for you but doesn’t expect, want, or accept you paying him back. you know what I mean? like, when someone pays for your lunch so you have to buy them lunch in return later, or when someone pays for your dinner, especially on a date, so you feel obligated to spend more time with them after, like that? nope. it’s never like that with childe. he’ll give the waiter his card before you’re even seated so you don’t get a chance to try to pay. he’ll deny any online payments you send to him and give back cash you sneak into his wallet. even when you’re the one who initiates hanging out, he still manages to pay for everything, no matter how much you protest and try to stop him.

he “only accepts kisses as compensation,” he says with a sly grin when the guilt of him paying for you weighed heavily on your chest. but, he sputters when you do kiss him on the cheek—which is bright red and warm under your lips. you had to lean up to reach him and rest your hand on the back of his neck to pull his face toward you. his hands flew down to rest on your hips when your fingers threaded through his hair, his breath hitching in his chest and his eyes fluttering closed, and he squeezed your waist tightly, fingers digging into your sides, when you breathed out on his neck after kissing his cheek.

you make him homemade lunches and desserts in return instead, both of which you “put so much effort into, I was sweating making these; my goodness, childe, it’d be so rude if you said no!” he’s too prideful to just simply say thank you, so he teases you with things along the lines of “so you think of me when you’re at home alone?” and “you should come over so I can see you cook in person!” and, the worst, “I bet you’re as sweet as these cookies. will you let me have a taste?” you think of teasing him back, maybe saying something like “only if you cook with me” or “you can finally put your pretty tongue to good use and lick the spoons clean.” but, you’re not quite bold enough to do that—although, seeing how he would react is very good motivation …

he plays ice hockey. he just has to. all the hottest guys play ice hockey which means childe plays ice hockey. imagine him taking off his helmet and throwing his head back, chest rising and falling quickly as he tries to catch his breath through deep, panting inhales, pulling his jersey up over his head and tossing it on the floor, his muscles rippling when he takes off the rest of his gear, pants low on his hips and sweat dripping down his chest. mhm, yeah. that’s what I thought.

you have a towel, baby?? I can lick u clean if not

when he personally invites you to one of his games for the first time, he’s the most bashful you’ve ever seen him. he doesn’t say something like, ‘you can come if you want.’ oh, no, not childe. “I have a game on friday. at 7.” he meets your eyes despite his cheeks being pink and rubs the back of his neck. “I want you to come.”

you say yes, and he beams. “I’ll give you something to wear.” he looks away from you and covers his face. “you’ll look good in it.”

when they win, he pulls off his helmet and searches the crowd for you. somehow, he spots you easily, as if there wasn’t anyone else around you, and meets your eyes. he grins and mouths, “this is for you,” or something cheesy like that. the weight of his spare away-game jersey feels light on your shoulders. (he’s so happy that they won because if they lost, he would have never shown his face around you again.)

he’s the type to tell his mom about you. you can tell because when you go over to his house for the first time, she greets you as if she’s known you for a long time. your name is spoken warmly, softly, with fondness when she welcomes you. childe purposefully avoids your gaze when you glance at him with wide eyes over his mother’s shoulder, hesitantly moving your arms to return her tight hug. his siblings greet you like they know you, too, with this look of excitement as if they’ve been waiting in suspense for you to come. they all know your name. and you know theirs, too, of course; childe has told you about his family in his rarer moments of complete honesty, when you sit next to each other alone and your shoulders are touching and he leans his head against yours, and he speaks of his family like they gave him the world, of his hopes and dreams, of how he wishes he could change the world. then, the next moment, he’s teasing that you could be part of his family, too, if you just accepted a pretty little ring!

but you’re a little confused when tonia, his younger sister, says to you, “are you actually dating ajax? you’re so cool and nice and pretty and he’s so … the way he is.” you laugh it off nervously and childe looks away again when you glance at him. and then his mom asks while you’re helping her plate dinner (which you didn’t know you were staying for until you saw the dining table set for 6), “so, you and ajax have been dating for two months? or was it three?”

something clatters loudly on the ground and you look over sharply. it’s childe standing in the doorway, a metal fork clanging on the floor under him, his hand frozen in shape as if the fork was still in his fingers. he meets your stare slowly, mouth parted and eyes wide. he looks … almost scared, which you’ve never seen on him before.

you blink.

oh. oh.

you didn’t know if all of those times you hung out together were dates. you wondered, but you didn’t want to ask because it seemed too late to do that if they were dates, and because of the fear that you would ruin whatever kind of relationship you had with him if he said they weren’t.

“yeah, that’s right,” you say, still looking at childe, whose eyes have widened even further and hand shakes in the air. “we’ve been dating for two months.”

after dinner, he leads you upstairs to his room and closes the door behind him after you walk in. he tugs you by the back of your shirt to face him and walks forward, forcing you to stumble the other way until your back is against the wall. he puts one hand beside your head on the wall and takes your chin between two fingers with his other and tilts your head up toward him. he looks over you for a moment, his face flushed and his eyes dark, and then stares at your lips. your hands go to tangle in his hair, pulling on it slightly, and you lean up to reach him. childe meets you halfway.

and he kisses you. slowly, with rhythm at first, moving his hand down to rest around your neck and holding your cheek with the other. but then he’s faster and excited and messy and his hands are all over you and pulling at your clothes and running over your skin and he’s moaning and whimpering into your mouth and saying things you’d only ever dreamed about, and you realize, ‘yeah. those were definitely dates.’

after they win the national championship, you walk down by the box to congratulate him, comfortably wearing his home-game jersey, his name proudly displayed on your shoulders. before you can begin to look for him or call out to him in the busy hall, he’s in front of you, pressed against you and heaving, holding your face in his hands and kissing you like he’s desperate. like he needs to. like he can’t stop.

“I love you,” childe whines—almost cries—into your mouth with a line of spit connecting your lips. “come with me.”

then, he fucks you against the locker room wall.

hard.

diluc:

exudes expensive. doesn’t fully realize just how fucking sexy he is. a little clueless, such a gentleman, gives more than he could ever take.

diluc isn’t necessarily … out of touch with the way normal, non-rich, people not employed as ceos live, but he is dumbfounded by some of the things you say.

“I was just gonna take an uber or walk if it costs too much. the place is only, like, a mile or two away.”

“oh, I’m not getting lunch; I’ve been burning through money and I need to budget some to last me through the rest of the week.”

“dinner? hmm, I’ll probably have a microwave meal or something, maybe ramen or one of those frozen ones.”

the look he gives you is one of confusion, concern, and probably disappointment. “come with me. I’ll handle it.” whatever it is, he says he’ll handle it—“only if you want, of course.” and diluc really will take care of it.

if you’re going out to get a drink with friends, he says, “call me if you need anything. really, just say the word and I’ll be there. anywhere, anytime.” on the rare occasion he actually goes out with you, he’s DD. orders for you if you’re too anxious to talk to the bartender. and pays for you without you asking. watches your and the girls’ drinks when you’re away and looks out for any creeps trying to approach any of you. takes the best care of you when you’re drunk or faded. lets you rest on his shoulder when you get tired, wraps his arm around your waist to support you as you walk, his hand gripping your hip with a few of his fingers splayed over your stomach. if you ever say you’re going to take an uber back home, he simply responds, “no. I’ll drive you.”

he drives a car so expensive, you feel a little out of place in it. luxury: probably a BMW, lexus, maybe a mercedes. sedan, all black interior, tinted windows. smells like whatever expensive cologne he wears and the smell lingers on your clothes even after you get out. has too many buttons where the AC and volume controls normally are and you aren’t sure which does what and you’re afraid you’re going to touch one and break it and then be in an absurd amount of debt to fix it. one of the cars that rides really quiet and smooth; the best to be a passenger in.

and also the best to be a passenger in because you get to watch him drive.

and, oh god, he’s a good driver. here’s a list of hot shit diluc does while driving:

always opens the door for you when you get into the car

once he reached over you to open the door from the inside when your hands were full and got really close to your face and said something like, “that help a little, love?”

puts his arm behind your headrest when backing into a parking space, grunts in your ear when he has to stretch to look through the back windshield

uses only his palm to turn the wheel sometimes if you get what I mean,, like this

gives you aux hehehe and sometimes says, “can you play this one song? it reminded me of you. I think you’d like it.”

puts one hand on your thigh but he doesn’t really realize that he’s doing it??? I’ll explain

when he’s driving, diluc has his hand on your thigh. his palm is hot—you can feel it through your pants and it feels like it’s burning if your thigh is bare. his thumb rubs circles slowly on the outside of your thigh while his other fingers rest on the inside of your thigh—his hand is big enough to touch all of you. his fingers are thick and calloused and strong. if he has to have both hands on the wheel for a moment, when he puts his hand back on your thigh, he gives you a little squeeze, digging his fingers in gently. he doesn’t really look at you when he touches you, just looks at the road and continues driving with his hand heavy and hot on your thigh.

you’re sure he knows what he’s doing. he has to know what he’s doing. but whenever he lays his hand a little higher up on your thigh and begins to rub circles or squeeze, and you adjust or make a sound, he looks at you with genuine concern and asks if you’re okay, if the AC is too low, if you’re in pain somewhere. as if he isn’t the one making you wriggle and whimper. stupid man.

diluc really has no gauge of how attractive he is. he knows he is somewhat because he gets so much attention, but he doesn’t care for it. he has better and more important things to do, after all—but, if you needed anything, just let him know. he can always set aside time for you, of course.

diluc is a dream. god took his time making that one. he has a strong sense of loyalty and duty. he isn’t a ceo for no reason; he works hard and is highly driven to be better. reluctant to ever ask for help or surrender himself to someone else to take care of him (but, he’ll admit, he trusts you). naturally settles into a caretaker position: buys things for you, helps you with whatever you need, gives you so much more than he could ever think of taking. just so good, he almost seems unattainable.

a soft kind of lover. a little clueless, fumbling and unsure, but still gentle, warm, caring, pure, and earnest. a perfect gentleman.

once, when there weren’t enough seats around, diluc began to stand up to offer you his—chivalry is dead except for him—but you vehemently refused. so, instead, he sat back down, leaned back and put one hand around the back of the chair, spread his legs and gestured to his lap.

“sit.”

dhmu screaming and crying rn

he didn’t even mean it to sound like that or know what his words implicated and how absolutely yummy he looked waiting for you to take a seat on his lap. in his mind, he’s only being polite; it’s simply the right thing to do. he just doesn’t understand he’s hot and you’d rather be sitting in his lap so you can ride his thigh!!! and that makes you reluctant to take all of the things he does for you as him liking you back.

but mondstadt sees things as you two dating except neither of you know and are too scared to talk to each other. the city collectively decides they are tired of you, fuck this, you both are idiots, we have to get them together or else they never will and they’ll keep dancing around each other and being disgusting and in love. so, mondstadt’s finest hatch a plan.

kaeya intercepts you on your way to drop off the lunch you made for diluc, which is one of the only things that he accepts from you; homemade meals, little gifts and trinkets, acts of care like doing his hair and massaging his hands when they get sore. “you heading to see my dear brother?” kaeya says with a grin, his hands already over yours on the box. “I’m on my way to see him; I can take that for you.” before you can respond, he’s walking away with it in his hands while you stand there, stunned and empty-handed.

before kaeya gives it to diluc, he sticks on a note that lisa scripted and eula carefully wrote in your handwriting: ‘meet me at starsnatch cliff at 6 <3 see you then!’ eula scoffed when writing it that morning, but reported to kaeya after he came back, “she stared after you walked away with the lunch and looked like a kicked puppy. horrendous. but, tell me what happens between them—not that I care.”

noelle grabs you next. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but may I have a moment of your time? while performing my cleaning duties, I found this item and I just cannot figure out its owner.” she delicately holds out a little painted bird made out of clay. (jean found a dusty sculpture from her childhood and told noelle to keep you occupied for a while.) “do you happen to know whose it is? or, may I have your company trying to find who it belongs to?”

and so you spend the rest of the afternoon visiting perhaps every person in mondstadt, but finding no owner. “well,” noelle says, “I suppose this will remain unclaimed.” her face is bright pink with a bit of a sour expression and she struggles to meet your eyes as she continues, “thank you so much for your help! I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.”

exhausted, you slowly start your walk home with dragging feet and slumped shoulders. but sucrose calls out to you when you pass by albedo’s office and pulls you inside. “I’m sorry to bother you!” she exclaims, shifting her weight and her hands waving in the air. “but can we have your assistance with this experiment? I just don’t have a moment today to do it.”

albedo hands you something that looks like a sweet flower but colored dull green and lackluster gold. “this is a flower I created out of luminescent spines. I want to observe how live fireflies react to it; if they interact, ignore it, fly away. I ask that you go to starsnatch cliff at sunset when the fireflies begin to come out.”

you have nothing better to do since you planned your day around spending some time with diluc in the afternoon and that didn’t happen, so you say yes. and that’s how you end up standing on starsnatch cliff before sunset. tired, bored, left a little mentally high and dry, but at the very least enjoying the scenery. you stare out at where the sun meets the sea, feeling the tall grass tickling your calves and the cool air on your skin, listening only to the quiet hum of crickets and softly blowing wind.

and grass crunching behind you. you turn around quickly, heart skipping a beat, but quickly you’re able to breathe out in relief and smile. it’s just—

“diluc. you surprised me.”

the setting sun illuminates his face and his coat moves in the wind. “my apologies, it wasn’t my intention to startle you.”

“it’s okay. what are you doing here?”

diluc blinks. “you asked to meet here, did you not?”

you blink. “uh, no …? not that I don’t want you here! I just didn’t ask you to meet me. uh, did you think that I did?”

“… oh. I thought—ah, it’s nothing.” he shakes his head and looks you over. “what are you doing out here so late? it’s about to be dark.”

you hold out the flower towards him, fingers twitching nervously. “albedo needed help with this experiment. see this flower? it’s made of luminescent spines and he wants to know what the fireflies will do.”

and then diluc does the unthinkable. you stare with wide eyes as he tugs off his gloves. his fingers are long and thick and his palm is wide and you can see the veins on the back of his hand and scars on his knuckles.

he steps forward to stand in front of you and places his hands over yours so he can look the flower over and thumb over a petal. “fascinating. have the fireflies done anything yet?”

“not yet, but the sun hasn’t fully set.” his hands are hot—oh, god, they burn and your face feels like it’s on fire and your core is heating up because he’s so close and he’s so sexy and he’s touching you—but a shiver runs down your spine anyway.

“are you cold?” this idiot. he shrugs off his coat—and the abrupt change in temperature of your hands really does make you shiver—and pulls it over your shoulders. “does that feel better?” he looks you over but his face pulls down into a frown. “silly girl. you should have brought a sweater with you. you could catch a cold without one.”

“thank you for this.”

he slides his hands down from your shoulders to rub over your upper arms. “of course, my love.”

there’s nothing to say so you say nothing. the silence is comfortable—everything always is with him, but there’s so much you do want to say. but you can’t. your mouth stays shut and your brain goes fuzzy and all you can do is stare. you look at diluc; diluc looks back at you.

and then the sun fully disappears over the horizon and the flower in your hands lights up. with the brightness of so many luminescent spines, it looks like you’re holding a star in your hands. the dull green glows neon and the lackluster gold shines brightly under the moonlight.

“oh.” you twirl it in your fingers and the petals shimmer. “wow.”

“beautiful.”

slowly, you look up from the flower and diluc is already looking at you. his gaze flickers from your eyes to your lips and back again. all you can hear is your heart beating loudly in your ears, diluc’s steady breathing, and the wind blowing softly. all you can look at is him. the breeze rustles his hair and you reach up with one hand to tuck it back behind his ear and out of his face, and your hand lingers there for a moment.

he whispers your name into the wind, and you murmur his back.

his hands raise to lay on your cheeks. you can feel them shake slightly and his face is bright red, but his voice is even when he says, “may I kiss you?”

you move your hand from behind his ear to cup his cheek. you lean up and he leans down and everything ignites. he tastes like honey and wine and feels like heaven and love. he pulls back and holds your face in his hands so he can look into your eyes.

“I burn for you.”

and then his lips are back on yours again and one of his hands rests on the side of your neck and the other grips your waist tightly. the flower drops to the ground so you can bury your hands in his hair and pull him closer. the fireflies flutter in the air around you and the nightingales sing in the distance and the wind dances around you like it’s just you two standing in the eye of a storm.

kaeya:

a menace. teasing. the absolute worst. knows he’s hot and he’s one of the ones that uses that to his advantage.

for as tall as he is and how much of a presence he has, kaeya can be very quiet. he sneaks up on you and blows in your ear or digs his fingers into your sides and laughs when you jump. his hands are always cold, too, so he’ll wrap one around your neck or slide his hand up your shirt and rest on your lower back to surprise you. if you yelp or make noise, he’ll say something like “heh, you’re so easy to rile up!” or “what’s wrong? you scared, little girl?” bitch. when you turn to him to express your annoyance, he’s gazing down at you with a grin, despite you rolling your eyes and calling him names or punching his arm or trying to stomp on his toes. but sometimes, when you jump especially hard and cry out and your heart skips a beat, he lifts his arms up for you to have access to his stomach. “sorry, baby,” he muses. “go ‘head. I’ll give you a free hit for that one.”

yep, kaeya also says shit like “oh, yeah?” and “make me” and “prove it.” if you’re mean to him—or try to be mean to him because apparently, he thinks everything you do and say is amusing, he says, “what was that, sweetheart? go ‘head, repeat that for me.” when you’re good and have taken care of yourself or worked hard, it’s “that’s my girl” and “‘atta girl, makin’ me proud” with a kiss on the forehead and cold hand cupping your cheek.

kaeya can’t be still. if he’s sitting down, one of his legs is crossed over the other and moving his foot up and down in the air, with one of his arms resting around the back of the seat; or he’s leaning back in the chair with his legs spread and tapping his fingers on his thigh. his hands need to be occupied if he does have to actually sit still, so he plays with something in his hand absentmindedly; spinning one of his rings around his finger, twisting a loose piece of his hair between his fingers, cracking his knuckles. he plays with his rings kind of like this.

when you stare at his hands, his long and nimble fingers, the veins on the back of his hand, the small scars on his knuckles, the shiny rings on almost each one of his fingers, and imagining very vivid things about what they can do, he leans in and murmurs in your ear, “see something you like?” — as if he isn’t the one to play with your fingers when you’re sitting next to him and he’s bored. and, he’s the one to put his palms up against yours and say, “oh, my, look at that. your hands are so much smaller than mine.”

you think he might have an oral fixation because he always has something in his mouth, too. he must have lollipops on lock because if you see him sucking on one at the beginning of class, there will be a different flavor in his mouth by the end of the period; and he has to have an endless supply of all flavors of gum stashed … somewhere in the pockets of his clothes. which are very tight and low cut so you can see his collar bones and his chest and they smell like bergamot and mandarin and cedar and are soft against your skin when he sits close enough next to you to brush his thigh and shoulder against yours.

once, without warning while passing each other in the halls, he backed you against the wall and grabbed your jaw between his fingers. when you opened your mouth to ask him what he could possibly want now, he placed a lollipop on your tongue, thumbed over your lip, and walked away. another time, when you were already sucking on a lollipop, he took it from your mouth and put it in his, and left. he asked you once if you want a piece of gum and, when you said yes, took your face in his hands, kissed you until you parted your lips when you gasped in surprise, and gave you the gum that was in his mouth. then, grinned at you and walked away.

bark bark

did I say kaeya knows he’s hot? he knows he’s hot and he’s such a little bitch about it and does shit like that just to show off and mess with you.

if you’re struggling to get something off a shelf just out of reach, he’s suddenly behind you, his chest pressed against your back, reaching over you to pull down what you needed. “there you go.” you take it from him with shaking hands and he walks away like nothing happened. when he wants to talk to you, he leans in so he can whisper in your ear—even if whispering is absolutely not necessary. his breath is warm and tickles your ear and neck and his voice, oh god, his voice is literally sex. he’ll be asking you about your day or what the homework was or something, but his tone of voice makes it sound sinful.

“hmm? use your words, baby. I can’t hear you.” when you shiver and struggle to respond, he chuckles in your ear and walks away like nothing happened. if you happen to be dressed up a little, he looks you up and down with hooded eyes and murmurs, “look at you,” smirking and licking over his teeth and that thot shit. “I could just eat you up.” and then he moves on in the conversation as if nothing happened.

(this is what bothers you the most.)

kaeya makes himself unattainable. he has no real strings attached to anyone.

when you talk to or think of him, your stomach is full of butterflies, maybe even fucking wasps. it’s annoyance and frustration and embarrassment and—adoration. but he’s always composed.

whenever he says or does things to you that make you flustered, he leaves casually. as if nothing happened. as if he didn’t say or do anything. as if you aren’t leaning against something to support yourself because your knees are so weak, breathing unevenly with your heart beating loudly in your ears, feeling like you’re burning up from the bottom of your stomach.

you think he doesn’t really care about you because, well, he’s kaeya. he’s smart, charming, funny, hot as shit, a tease, a smooth talker, a menace to everyone; he’s always composed, calm, level-headed, never visibly upset or worried. you think he’s playing with you, messing with you because he thinks you’re entertaining and easy to rile up. he whispers in your ear to see you shiver, leans close to you and teases you when you find it hard to speak, plays with your fingers because you always end up staring at his hands, kisses you and leaves you hanging and confused—does all of these things to you just to make himself laugh, no other reason beyond his own entertainment.

you think kaeya doesn’t really care about you until you’re sitting on the couch late at night, body heavy and sluggish, head pounding and mind feeling like thick jelly, tears in your eyes as you try to read words that don’t make sense. a cold hand touches your neck and you only have the energy to start and gasp lightly.

“well,” he breathes in your ear, “that’s a little unenthusiastic. don’t sound too happy to see me.”

“I’m busy, kaeya,” is all you can say back.

“too busy for me? no way.” he walks around the couch and sits down next to you, close enough that your shoulders and thighs touch. “what’s my favorite g—”

“not now. please. I have—” but your voice breaks and you look down at the floor.

he leans closer to you and reaches to take your jaw between his fingers and tilt your face up toward his. “who made you cry?” his expression is something you’ve never seen before, his tone of voice one you’ve never been spoken to with.

“no one. I’m just—tired. I can’t do this with you right now.”

“what happened?” he cups your cheeks with his hands, palms cold against your flushed skin, and gently wipes under your eyes with his thumbs. “what are you upset about?”

“nothing. I’m fine.” you reach up and wrap your hands around his wrists, tugging at them weakly. “can you please go?”

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong.” he pulls one of his hands back from your cheek and twists his wrist so that your hand falls away. he catches it and intertwines your fingers, then brings the back of your hand up to his mouth, murmuring, “talk to me, sweet girl.”

“I don’t need your help.” his lips press against your skin and he meets your gaze, his normally slanted, mirthful blue eyes so soft, and you melt. “why are you acting like you care? just leave, please.”

“hmm?” his hum vibrates the bones of your hand, and his eyes start to smile again as he slowly kisses each of your knuckles. “who said I didn’t care?”

you roll your eyes and pull your hand away with little force. you’re so tired. “don’t play with me right now, kaeya.”

“I’m not playing with you, baby.” he guides your hand down to lay on his chest, right over his heart. “I’ve never been playing with you.” he slides his other hand down from your cheek to rest on the side of your neck, his long fingers splaying around to your nape. “it’s you.” kaeya glances between your lips and your wide eyes before leaning in. your eyes flutter closed. you breathe in citrus and evergreen. his hair tickles your neck. his lips are cold against your skin when he gently kisses the side of your mouth. your lips part and he whispers your name into your skin like it’s a prayer. “it’s always been you.”

you blink slowly.

“come on, lay down on my lap.” you don’t have the energy or brain-power to protest or question what the fuck just happened. (and his lap always has looked comfortable, anyway.) you adjust and lay your head on his thighs, curling up closely to his side, and he shrugs off his jacket to lay over your legs. “go to sleep, sweetheart.”

kaeya runs his hand up and down your back gently. it’s warm.

note: thanks for reading! if u wanna be tagged when I post, lmk in an ask/dm.

taglist: @asimpleazur @shoobirino

posted 09.09.2021. do not repost or modify any of my original work on any other platform. to genshin masterlist.

#lux.writes #genshin impact #genshin impact imagine #lux.childe #childe #childe imagine #childe imagines #childe x reader #lux.diluc #diluc #diluc imagine #diluc imagines #diluc x reader #lux.kaeya #kaeya #kaeya imagine #kaeya imagines #kaeya x reader

2K notes · View notes