COMN FANFIC WRITERS !!

COMN FANFIC WRITERS !!

...fucking you really hard until you sob out a little "I'm ovulating" and then he gets really gentle and sweet.

"Aw, are we about to make a baby?" he coos right into your ear, "ain't that sweet?"

Really loving the thought of being violated with forced kisses, rather than sex.

Yes, the sex is one thing, holding you down no matter how much you struggle and ramming his body into yours — but this is different. It's sensual, sure, but more… romantic, or at least a crude imitation of a romantic act. Less directly lewd, less perverse, more vulnerable.

More intimate, and all the more violating for it.

He still makes it fairly sensual — the hand that isn't nearly crushing your jaw as he holds your head still is instead roaming under your shirt, grasping at the flesh. But the way your faces are so close, the lack of harsh movement and rapid intensity as when he's inside you, the slowness of it all, it makes your stomach churn.

Feeling the hot breath on your face each time he pulls back for just a brief moment, the sensitivity of your lips capturing the sensation of his pressed to yours. The way you move downward as he leans forward and pushes you down onto your back without even breaking away. His hands squeeze on your waist as they begin to make their way beneath your waistband, just as his tongue pushes past your lips and into your mouth, violating you in a way that somehow feels more humiliating and vulnerable than anything else, forcing himself into you, forcing you open and baring yourself to him against your will.

The worst part, though, is the sound — it's a wet, smacking sort of sound, that only gets worse and amplified as his tongue moves against yours, warm and soft.

Only rivaled in the way it makes you tremble by the increasing intensity, the way the sounds from his throat becomes like low growls, the force with which he presses his face to yours, the grip on your jaw growing painfully tight, the increasing harshness of each movement and the way he begins to rut his cock against your groin through each other's clothes…

Finally pulling away, only to mutter soft curses as any remaining inhibition is lost, and the coolness of the air washes over your skin as he jerks your clothes off in just a few swift, forceful motions, eager to force the rest of himself inside you too.

Which of your Oc’s would enjoy cockwarming the most?

[The festive season apparently brings out cockwarming enthusiasts...]

Who's more into cockwarming?

Nebul. It should strike as no surprise. Cockwarming is a great way for him to train your patience, and he finds that most of the pets he has to break for others need heavy work on that. As an undead with a rather stationary job, he has all the time in the world to keep you sat all pretty on his lap. Grinding gets you slapped hard on the legs, his nails digging in. Clenching is met with a warning hand around your neck. Rewards are plentiful when you successfully accommodate him for demanding periods of time.

Krulu. It's a luxury and an act of service. One that you should be ready to provide at all times. Nothing helps Krulu focus and calm down faster than his tight little vessel hugging his cock while he works. One pair of arms keeps your body glued to him, the others busy themselves with whatever they want. You're stroked and hummed to throughout this, occasionally praised for staying still and obedient. Do well enough and you'll get to cum on him.

Miara actually prefers plugging to cockwarming, but she still enjoys the former. You're the one that's likely not to be able to stand still for too long, given her fertility-inclined nature will rouse you too much to relax. Nonetheless, she loves to see you squirm around something your poor body can't handle, cooing sweet nothing while she holds you still against her tummy, hearing your muffled moans whenever she adjusts position or twitches. It turns her on beyond measure. If she could keep you like that for whole days, she would.

Vesper thinks every second he's not buried in someone is time wasted. Sweetheart, just look at his cocks and pick one, yes? He'll switch around as time passes. He's very excited, the Icon always wanted to keep his very own cock-sleeve! Make sure to hang onto him tight, okay? Vesper will walk around with you strapped to him, don't test this demon. Every step he takes will shove him deeper inside you whether you want it or not. Unfortunately, it's only a matter of time until he can't take it and uses you to get off like a sloppy fleshlight. If it makes you feel better, other demons expect this from Vesper, so no one will be scandalized by the sight of you dripping seed, impaled on him.

Zizz is a simple demon who only wants to fall asleep in his sea of pillows, under his heavy blankets, with his dick buried as far into your perfect warm hole as possible. Truly, there's nothing more this Icon wants. And although he may hump a bit in his sleep, you're left unperturbed for the most part. That doesn't mean you can escape, the slothful demon has you trapped like a plushie in his grasp. Squirming and whining is met with slurred grunts and reflexive thrusts. Resign yourself to it, you may wake up with him readjusting or groping you. It's a fight to get him to pull out every. Single. Time.

Gallon is a fan of keeping you encased within himself, as discussed previously. Naturally, his cock is stuffed snugly inside you for the most part. Cockwarming is only relaxing for the slime because he knows you're trapped with him, and therefore nothing bad could ever happen to you. Other than that, this is more of an opportunity to tease than anything else, as he'll make an effort to sporadically start fucking you- Then stop abruptly. Rinse and repeat until you're so slick it's seeping out of him and his slime ripples with your muffled cries of frustration. How long you spend like this varies a lot, some days it can be almost an entire shift, other times it barely lasts past an hour.

Hide and Seek | Demon!Kaeya x Reader

Hello hello! This is the first halloween fic with some demon Kaeya for you all :] happy spooky month!!

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: AFAB READER, NSFT, noncon, "sweetheart" as a nickname (no explicitly gendered nicknames though), yandere themes, some blood, maybe implied voyeurism(up to the imagination really), unprotected sex, slight religious themes, probably inaccurate portrayal of ghost hunting.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” 

You roll your eyes, trying to not let the bored, infuriating drawl of your partner get under your skin. “Yes, Kaeya. We’ve done this at least a dozen times now. You don’t need to ask that every time.”

Technically, you don’t know what you’re doing, but you won’t say as much to him. You’ve just read dozens of articles, and this is the sort of thing you’ve seen and read about other paranormal investigators doing, so there’s got to be a reason for it, right?

Kaeya shrugs, moving from his lazy slouch against the dusty countertop closer to you. Air washes over the back of your neck and you bristle, turning over your shoulder to glare at him. He smiles. “What, am I not allowed to watch my partner work?”

Ignoring him, you light another candle. 

“You know… I’ve got to hand it to you, I’ve never met someone as… zealous as you.” He continues after a minute of blissful silence. You try not to roll your eyes again. 

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. We’ve been searching for-” he makes an exaggerated motion with his hands, pantomiming quotation marks, “-’ghosts’ and ‘ghouls’ and-” he laughs; cynical, cracking laughter- “demons... And after all these months of nothing but boring, dusty houses, you’re still convinced there’s something out there.”

“Okay.”

He laughs again at your lackluster response, this one more mirthful than cynical, and you purse your lips to suppress the smile you feel creeping up. Bastard doesn’t deserve it. You light the last candle, blowing out the match and setting it on the floor next to the rest of your supplies. 

“No offense, but don’t demons like blood? I don’t think red chalk and soy wax candles are going to summon a demon.” Kaeya leans forward to inspect your handiwork over your shoulder, clicking his tongue. “Maybe that’s why we haven’t seen a demon yet. Not enough blood offerings.”

You smile despite yourself. “And are you willing to use your blood, then, Mr. Skeptic?”

“No can do, sweetheart. Demons don’t like my blood type.”

“And what’s your blood type?” 

“Whichever one demons dislike the most.”

That earns a laugh out of you, and you swat him away when he preens a little too much at finally wrangling a laugh out of you. “Go make yourself useful, then, and get the salt from the van.”

Kaeya rocks back onto his heels in a languid stretch, rolling his eyes– well. Eye. You never did ask him about the eyepatch– before turning to go fetch the requested item. “I don’t think demons are allergic to the most boring seasoning, but if it so pleases you…”

“If they’re allergic to you then they’re surely allergic to salt,” You fire back, cleaning up one of the chalk lines with your thumb. 

“Hurtful!” He calls back from down the hall. You hear the front door slam shut a second later.

Shaking your head, you turn back to the task at hand. Admittedly, you’re not sure this will work. It’s not an exact science, but you’re willing to try anything at least a dozen times before ruling it out, and maybe this time will be different. 

While you wait, you dig the ouija board out of your bag, balancing it on your knees, and set the planchette on the center of it. 

Never use a ouija board alone, the woman you’d bought it from had told you sternly. At the time, you’d never even considered it. Using it alone seemed like a bad idea anyways– an invitation for bad things, but… 

Whenever you’ve used it with Kaeya– on the rare occasion he wouldn’t use it as an opportunity to mess with you by purposefully dragging the planchette around the board– nothing would happen. You’re beginning to wonder if he’s bad luck– maybe the kinds of paranormal things you investigate just don’t like talking to a smartass. 

So… Just this once can’t hurt, right?

“Hello. Is anyone there?” You try, resting a few fingers on the planchette. 

No response. 

“If… If there’s someone here, please make yourself known.” You try again. The sound of your voice bouncing off the walls is unnerving– the bareness of the house you’re in is somehow more unsettling than the homes you’ve been in with plastic covered furniture, buried under thick layers of dust. 

Nothing still. 

You’re about to give up, say goodbye and put the board away before Kaeya returns from the van and starts pestering you again, but there’s a sudden tug on the planchette– firm enough it’s almost ripped out from beneath your fingers.

“YES.”

You stare, wide-eyed, down at the board. Your heart begins to pound. “...Hi.”

The planchette shifts again. “HELLO.”

“Hi,” You parrot again, a small, nervous laugh cracking from your chest. Your hand trembles, but you keep it on the planchette. “Uh, hah- Um. How… are you?”

This time, it starts to spell a word. Each letter makes your heart rate spike. “SCARED,” it says. 

“...Why?”

“THAT THING.”

“The… The candles?” 

“NO.”

You’re about to ask another question– maybe the chalk? Maybe you drew the wrong sigils– but the planchette moves again on its own accord, frantically darting from letter to letter. It’s hard to keep up; you’re so busy trying to keep ahold of the planchette with how fast it moves across the board you almost forget to pay attention to the word, processing it a few moments after it’s stopped:

“DEMON.”

“Where?” You press, glancing around to the darkened corners of the room, cold shivers prickling your spine at the thought. It’s messing with you. It has to be, right…?

“NO.” A pause, to be sure you’re paying attention, then it drags across the board hurriedly, like it’s afraid of being caught, “WHO.”

“Who…? I don’t-”

Wood scrapes harshly against wood, the sound grating on your ears, screeching. It’s spelling something new now. A name.

“K A E Y-”

“Sorry I took so long! I couldn’t find the salt.” You hear your partner call from down the hall, footsteps echoing through the empty space. 

You stare blankly at the board as the planchette slips from beneath your fingers, ending on the “GOODBYE.”

Kaeya stops at the entryway, container of salt in hand, “Damn thing rolled under the– Oh, woah, what’s with that face?”

It’s hard to force yourself to calm, balling your hand into a fist and setting it in your lap. You force a shaky smile, trying not to shudder at the look of disdain on his face when his eye flits to the board still sitting in your lap.

“Without me?” He says, striding over and plopping down a bit too quickly. He laughs when you flinch. “I’m wounded.”

You swallow harshly, smile at him with more teeth than you should, and try to choke back the anxiety bubbling in your chest. Why was it spelling his name? “Sorry,” You breathe, clearing your throat when the reply comes out reedy, “I should’ve waited.”

“Spook yourself?” Kaeya asks, leaning in. His eye glints in the candlelight. When you lean away he smiles, all teeth. “You’re shaking.”

You are. But this is your partner, right? The same skeptic that’s tormented you and been a thorn in your side for months. The same smartass that tries to scare you whenever you have to turn out your light, the same one that teases you for jumping at every little creak and noise when you explore abandoned buildings together. 

“Yeah.” Has his eye always been that bright? “Sorry. I thought it worked this time.”

You don’t quite know why you’re lying. Something in your gut tells you to. 

Kaeya pouts, pulling away from you to lean back against his palms. “Aw. Well, that’s a shame. Did it tell you anything fun?”

“Uh-” You clear your throat again, voice pitching. “Nothing. Just… Gibberish.”

“Gibberish?” He parrots back, turning his attention to the candles. You can’t see his face now, dim in the scarce light. The candlelight catches on the ends of his hair– almost beautiful. But your heart hasn’t stopped pounding, the image of the board’s last message replaying in your mind. 

“Y-yeah. I thought it was spelling something, but… nothing.” You tear your eyes away from him to the flickering candles as well, trying to suppress the tremors of adrenaline. It’s just a board. Whatever was speaking to you was probably just fucking with you. 

“Mmmhm.” 

A tense silence follows, with your partner drumming his fingers against dusty floorboards. The sound cracks against your ears, too sharp and loud in the quiet house you occupy to block out. 

“I have an idea.” He starts, not commenting on the little, frightful jump you give when he breaks the silence. “Let’s play a game.”

“A game?”

“Yeah. A game,” He reaches forward, pinching the wick of one of the candles and snuffing it out. He quickly moves on to the next, snuffing out the circle of candles you lit one by one, each sizzling loudly between his fingers. A scent like burnt flesh hits your nose and you recoil, a hand flying up to cover your mouth and nose. 

“Kaeya, what–”

“Hide and seek, to be precise,” He interrupts, unbothered. Without the guide of candlelight you can barely see him, just the vague shadow of a man you think you know. “I’ll seek.”

“Kaeya?”

That shadow turns to look at you. “You have thirty seconds to hide, and I have sixty seconds to find you. Sound fair?”

“L-Look, Kaeya, I don’t-”

“Thirty.”

“Kaeya-”

“Twenty-nine.”

Your stomach lurches. You scramble to your feet, hesitating briefly as the blood rushes to your head from the sudden movement. His eye catches in the bare moonlight that filters in from one of the broken windows, staring straight at you. 

“The previous homeowners left everything that was in their attic. Plenty of places to hide, up there.” He tells you, voice low and conspiratory. You can hear the smile in it; catch a glimpse of teeth. “...But you didn’t hear that from me. Twenty-eight.”

You run for the attic. Kaeya’s voice follows you down the hall, almost sing-song as he counts down. 

Tearing through the rooms, the drone of his voice is drowned out by the sound of your footsteps echoing through the halls. Every room you peer into is completely bare, and you come to the sinking realization that Kaeya was telling the truth– you can’t hide in any of these rooms, it’d take only a quick glance to find you. 

You try to slip up the stairs to the attic as quietly as you can manage, each groaning step making your heart sink further. 

By the time you’re at the top of the steps, you can’t hear Kaeya’s voice anymore. Is he still counting?

The attic is dark, but filled with old, dusty furniture and water-stained cardboard boxes. Sheets cover some of the furniture, moth-eaten and filthy. You stumble through the dark, further into the room. 

“Ready or not, here I come!” Kaeya calls from further in the house. 

Shit. 

There’s a large wardrobe in the corner, turned on its side and partially covered with a sheet like much of the other furniture in the space. It’s better than nothing. The handle sticks when you tug on it, but the door eventually swings awkwardly open– and blessedly quiet– and you’re able to clamber inside the cramped space. 

You shut the door quietly behind you, huddling uncomfortably against the back of it. You can hear the steps to the attic groaning under Kaeya’s weight, then silence. 

Blood rushes in your ears, and you strain to hear over the thrum of your own heart. There’s footsteps meandering around the room now, and you can hear your partner humming lackadaisically as he searches. 

He’s fucking with you. He’s got to be. He saw how spooked you were from the ouija board and he decided that now was the best time for this. Once he’s done with his game you’ll come out and tell him what actually happened with the board. 

…It’s what you want to believe, but terror still graws at your throat, suffocating as you listen to Kaeya tossing heavy objects about the room in his search. It’s been more than sixty seconds by now, hasn’t it? You don’t know. 

The rummaging stops a few feet away from the wardrobe you’re hiding in. You hold your breath, fishing out your phone and unlocking it. 

He wouldn’t hurt you. He wouldn’t. He’s just trying to scare you. 

Right?

You’re not given the time to dwell on it. The wardrobe door swings open, blue light from your phone screen illuminating Kaeya’s face. His one visible eye is wild, pupil blown wide and mouth stretched into a toothy grin. 

“There you are.”

He’s just messing with you. He’s just messing with you, he’s just messing with you–

“O-Okay. Okay, you found me,” You croak, trying to smile despite the anxiety, sharp and sour like acid on your tongue, “Let- Let’s go back to the van, okay? I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Kaeya pulls you out of the wardrobe by your arm, his grin settling down into something calmer, something more like what you’re used to seeing from him; teasing and playful. “Of course. But, ah, don’t you think I deserve a reward for winning?”

He doesn’t seem to care for a response, already settling down against the dusty hardwood and dragging you by the arm into him, “You know… I’m surprised it took you this long. I’ve been dropping hints for months– subtle ones, of course. Didn’t want to spoil the surprise too quickly.”

For months?

Fingers drum against your spine, staccato movements that send pinpricks of dread through you. “To think such a mousy little spirit would be the one to slip through my fingers and tell you… I guess I should have figured that hag’s warning wouldn’t deter you forever. I just didn’t think you’d have the guts to try the board on your own. Had I known, I would have found some excuse to drag you out with me to the van.” 

He feigns an exasperated sigh. “I was enjoying our game, too. Oh well. It can’t be helped, I suppose.”

You think back on your time spent with him over the last few months. His oddities– he’d always vehemently refuse to touch any of the crucifixes, insisting you had to be the one to bring them into the building because the metal used in them is cheap and gives him hives. 

Or how he’d always blaze on ahead of you to scope out a new building, long legs carrying him in quick strides you struggle to match. You’d eventually given up trying to match his pace and would just let him do his thing. 

Or how, despite constantly insisting the sigils in your book were silly and wouldn’t defend against the boogeyman, he’d still correct you on the protection ones; or smudge the summoning ones with his shoe or with his thumb, smiling and swearing that he thought he saw a spider or a fly when you would catch him doing so. 

Or how, even after all these months, you’ve never once seen him eat. Whenever you’d go out with him to a diner after spending the night in some abandoned building, he’d only ever order a coffee or a glass of water, Or if you were going out to dinner, he’d order something alcoholic and nothing more. In the past, you’d assumed that he ate at home after the two of you parted ways. 

Kaeya’s always been the last one to fall asleep whenever you’d spend the night with him in sleeping bags beside each other in gutted, hollow homes. It used to comfort you, knowing that he’d stay awake for you, talk your ear off until exhaustion won out and you were no longer able to listen. But now…

“...What are you?” You whisper. 

“I think you already know,” He replies, leaning down to dig his nose against your nape. His free hand coils around your throat, something sharp and cold dragging against your skin with the tips of his fingers that was definitely not there before. 

You try to blindly fumble with your phone to dial an emergency number without looking at it– as inconspicuously as you can manage– but Kaeya shifts, unwinds his arm around you and tightens the hand around your throat, and plucks the phone out of your hand. 

He jostles you in his grasp a little with the force he uses to throw it out of sight, far behind him, and you hear it shatter against the wall. 

Ice congeals in your blood, but it doesn’t compare to the sudden frigid shock of his hand sliding underneath your shirt, pressing against your spine to push you closer to him. He feels like snow– absent of warmth and sapping all of your own from you, hungry and stealing. 

“Don’t-” You start, protests tapering off into a pained whine when those sharp-tipped fingers start to dig into your skin, drawing patterns with enough force to leave blood beading in their wake. “Kaeya, that hurts-”

Kaeya shushes you, squeezing your throat tight enough to cut off your next words, “Hush. I’m almost done.”

There’s a building pressure in your chest, pins and needles spreading through your limbs , sensations dulling. You feel the sudden disconnect– the exact moment you’re forced into the backseat in your own body. 

It’s less like the flip of a switch and more like the ice beneath your feet cracking, the sea suddenly and savagely swallowing you whole. Ice floods your veins, pervasive and engulfing– and you’re forced to watch, a prisoner in your skin, as Kaeya lays you on your back. 

The room is freezing. You can see your own breath in front of you, but not Kaeya’s. 

“You’re so soft,” He comments, hands sliding underneath your shirt. You try to bristle, to shove him off, to react in any way besides staring wide-eyed and terrified, but you can’t move. 

Questing hands explore your prone form, hiking up your shirt, tugging down your pants. Kaeya’s eye glows faintly in the darkness of the room– a trick of the light or something else, you don’t know. 

Your pants are tugged fully off you in a hasty motion, cold fingers ghosting over bare skin before Kaeya moves to kneel between your legs. 

You feel the cold on your skin, a wash of equally-cold breath against your sex. It takes a second to register the sensation of cool lips wrapping around your clit and sucking, tongue laving so hard that it registers first as pain before shifting to razor-sharp pleasure. 

Kaeya eats you like a man starved– teeth and tongue and firecracker bright. One arm hooks around your thigh, angling your hips upward. His free hand moves up your chest to tug at your nipples, pinching with enough force to pull whimpers from your mouth and send shocks down your spine. 

It’s torture– being passenger in your own body, forced to endure the sensations. Shadows dance in your vision as you’re forced to stare blankly forward at the ceiling; your mind unable to see what’s in front of you in the pitch blackness and filling the gaps with shapes you don’t want to recognize.

Worse, still, is how cold it is. How cold his hands are, how cold the room has gotten. It rests just on the precipice of freezing– cold, but not cold enough to do more than wrack your body with shivers and raise gooseflesh. Uncomfortable, but not deadly in the way his hands are. 

The hand playing with your chest slides down between your legs, and he takes advantage of the arousal that’s started to leak from your entrance, sliding two cold fingers into you. 

Thankfully, those sharp-tipped nails are blunt once more as he presses them inside you. You almost wish they weren’t, however, when they immediately curl inside of you, abusing a spot that has you shuddering and clenching unwillingly around him. The heat that builds inside of you hurts almost the same, too fast and too sudden with the sensation that Kaeya forces from you. 

Nails dig into your thigh, drawing blood, and Kaeya sucks harder than before. An orgasm is ripped so suddenly from you it hurts. It’s wrong. It hurts. Your vision whites out anyway. You cry out through closed lips, unable to properly scream. 

Kaeya doesn’t nurse you through it. Doesn’t try to gently ease you back to earth. Instead, you hear him take a sharp intake of breath– does he even need to breathe?– and then his mouth is back on you, as fervent as it was before. 

It burns– too much sensation at once. You struggle to breathe, struggle to regain control of your body to twist away from him. The most you can manage is a twitch of your fingers. 

Another orgasm rips through you like a bullet., half overstimulated pain and half pleasure. You black out. 

When you come to, Kaeya’s moved up to hover over you, hands cupping your cheeks in a way that’s so tender it makes you sick. 

There’s a smile on his face that matches the aching emptiness in your chest. You tear your eyes away, looking back towards the ceiling instead. There’s a small hole in the roof, you realize– one you didn’t notice before, but there’s light starting to filter through it now, the morning beginning to crack open its eyes for a new day. 

“Do you believe in god?” He asks, dragging your attention away from the dawnlight beginning to pour into the room with a firm grip on your chin. 

When you don’t answer, his smile widens into something sickening and self-satisfied. He leans in, whispering fervently against your mouth– “That’s alright. I can be your god.”

You close your eyes, if only to not have to see his face as he kisses you. You can taste yourself on his tongue as he forces it past your slack lips. 

He kisses you long and slow, stealing the breath from your lungs like he steals the warmth from your skin. When he pulls away, his thumb takes the place of his tongue– invasive and vile and unwelcome. You fight against the paralysis as much as you can, trying to muster the strength to do anything more than lie there. 

Kaeya grins at the weak press of teeth against his thumb, cooing patronizingly when you can’t manage to bite down any harder. He doesn’t remove his thumb, just presses further into your mouth until you gag around him and holds it there. 

He shuffles a bit, free hand pressing your thigh against the floor as something presses against your entrance. It’s the only warning you get– a sharp intake of air before he’s pressing inside of you like a knife; cold and unforgiving and so, so wrong. 

“Cute,” He says, when you try to beg around the thumb in your mouth. “Cute,” He reiterates, when you try again to bite, when you force a trembling hand up and try to pry his hand from your mouth. 

Pins and needles lance through your arm, your grip weak. You can barely curl your fingers around his wrist with how heavy your limbs feel. 

Kaeya pulls out, thrusting back in and jostling your body against the ground, and your arm falls slack against your chest. He sets a slow pace, unlike the way he did with his mouth. It's worse. It’s so, so much worse; feeling the way your body betrays you instead of the overwhelming burn of sensation like before.

He looks at your face the entire time, gauging the way you bite his thumb and stifle whimpers. One particularly harsh thrust has your eyebrows furrowing, expression betraying the sharp bolt of pleasure that lances through you, and he smiles.

The thumb is pulled from between your lips and replaced with his tongue once more as he leans back down to kiss you. You try to be impassive, to be as unresponsive as possible, but each harsh thrust of his cock cracks another whimper from your lips against his. He swallows each one, thumb moving to rub deep circles into your clit. 

You wonder what became of whoever it was that warned you– are they still here? Are they watching? But the room is quiet save for your quest gasps and whimpers– the sound of skin on skin as Kaeya presses into you– and you've never felt more alone.

“Stop,” You gasp against his mouth. It’s too much– the building heat, the coiling pleasure. You won’t, you can’t– “Stop-” 

“It’s okay,” He bites your lip, digs his nails into your thigh. You feel blood drip onto the floor but it’s drowned out by the incoming peak you try to stave off. “You’re okay. Let go.”

You sob against his mouth, clenching down on his cock as he forces another orgasm out of you. It hurts in a different way this time, cold as you come back down from it. This time, the cold takes root; sinks into your bones and into your lungs, threading between ribs and vertebrae. 

Distantly, you hear him groan– feel him shudder and release inside you. You turn your gaze to the ceiling, where morning light pours in to wash over the two of you. 

He doesn’t pull out, doesn’t move away, just pulls you close and into him, stealing the warmth from your chest. It’s like being cradled by snow. And when he brushes the hair from your face– smiles another hollow, empty smile– you wonder if, perhaps, he is.

how long could we cockwarm Zizz before he starts humping us?

Depends.

If he's awake, Zizz can spend hours pliant beneath you without moving a muscle, though he's occasionally twitching inside you and sighing contentedly. If you move, he's absolutely taking advantage of it, but don't underestimate how absolutely boneless and lazy Zizz can be.

The problem starts when he falls asleep.

Give it five minutes at most, his unconscious form will register the warmth of a tight hole around him and his hips will start rocking on their own. He's always been a humper, and that's no secret to anyone at this point, so you know what you've signed up for when those big arms lock around you and he starts breathily mumbling in his slumber. He'll settle down eventually if you let him come in you this way, though it is more than a little gross.