JEALOUSY
Xiao x reader (gender neutral)
tags: nsfw, blood, stalked, implied potential sexual violence against reader (doesn’t happen), smut, possessive behavior.
// Xiao doesn’t kill humans but when you’re in danger, he changes. And secretly, you like it.\\
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Xiao tends to keep most emotions bottled up, all screwed tight and close to bursting. Still, regardless of his own awareness of the festering feelings, he thinks he does a decent job of ignoring them. He’ll push the lid down and stand atop it, wrap heavy chains, whatever he needs to do to just remain calm-
Until now.
You watch with wide, shocked eyes as the group of strangers who had been stalking you through the darker streets of Liyue scream, their voices rising to a crescendo before cutting off abruptly. They fall, one by one, within the whipping shadows.
You aren’t scared of Xiao, of course. You know he would never hurt you; but to see the wrath he warns others about unleashed, you can’t help the trip of your heart. It patters against your eardrums as blood pools beneath the bodies, how it slides along the cracks of the rocks toward your feet.
Thunder booms in the distance and you know the blood will be washed away. You aren’t sure, however, if the bodies will disappear too. Xiao doesn’t seem very concerned about it as he finally turns to you, mask glowing turquoise as the wind he’d created with his sudden appearance begins to fade.
He strides to you, his mask disappearing with an array of glittering sparks. Only when you tear your eyes away from the fallen bodies do you realize he is…hesitant. He’s close but he’s withheld, hand holding tight to his spear, mouth sharp and flat with trepidation.
“Are you alright?” He asks, quietly.
You gulp and wipe at the flecks of blood that had flown to your face. It smears and streaks on your cheek and his eyes flit to the motion. He reaches for you slowly but when you don’t move or push him away, like you’re sure he thought you would, he wipes at the blood with his own fingers. His thumb brushes the crest of your cheek before those fingers dig into your hair, curling and holding.
“Y/N?” He tilts his head, trying to catch your eye. “Are you okay?”
You lick your lips and nod, “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
His brows furrow, jaw clenching. You see a dark emotion cross his face and in fear that he’ll teleport you home before disappearing entirely, you wrap your arms around his waist, tugging him close. You press your nose and lips against his throat, breathing him in like you usually do.
Wind. Almonds. Copper.
The familiar scent of him calms you.
“I’m glad you showed up.” You press a kiss against the underside of his jaw, stomach flipping when he tenses and lets out a sharp breath. “I could’ve handled it myself, you know. But I’m still glad.”
He hums, “I never doubt that you can defend yourself.”
“Right. And you’ve seen me do it before. So, why step in like this, this time?”
Xiao doesn’t immediately reply. You draw back just a tad, just in time to see that he’d been biting at his lip. It is such a human gesture that you can’t help but brush your fingers over him, soothing the irritated skin.
“I heard what they were saying…how they’d seen you at the tavern, how they wanted to talk to you.” He glances away, “How excited they were at the idea that you would go with them. How they would have taken you even if you said no.”
You frown, “I wouldn’t have let them.”
“I know that.” He presses against you, “I knew that and still, I couldn’t stop.”
You search his face, chest aching with absolute affection: adoration, love. You aren’t scared of him and you don’t blame him- if anything, you are ignited.
In an instant you are surging forward, capturing his lips with your own. He gasps against you and you revel in it, smirking a bit when the shadows rise once more. They shroud you from the world until you find yourself pressed against your bedroom wall, legs grabbed and raised to latch around his waist.
You curve, pushing yourself against him, grinding until that small noise you love so much escapes his lips. He tears at your shirt, a button popping before his sharp teeth are grazing over the hollow of your throat, the center of your chest.
You tug at his hair until he’s looking at you, eyes hooded but still so, so bright. When you kiss again, it is all tongue. You moan at the nip on your bottom lip, around the curl of his tongue, how messy it gets and how much desperation has begun to flood your senses.
Neither of you undress entirely. Your shirt is torn and his spear is on the ground, your pants falling when he lowers you and turns you around. You press your hands against the wall, head dipped and all breathless-
“You’re mine, aren’t you?” He asks.
The question isn’t demanding. It is a lapse of his tall walls, a crumbling of the façade he holds in place. He is begging for your answer, for it to be what he so desperately needs to hear. It comes from a place of fear and self-condemnation. He is scared that you will leave and he thinks that he’ll have deserved it.
“Yes.” You breathe, urging him to believe you, your stomach fluttering when you hear the undoing of his clothes.
“Say it.” He trails his mouth along the curve of your nape. He teases you open, works your body like a musician. “Please.”
“I’m yours, Alatus.”
His name on your lips is the final fracture. His defensive walls explode like impacted glass, shattering around you as he pushes in. You gasp, nails digging into the wood until he places his palms atop your hands, fingers interlocking.
The pace is heavy and fast, each thrust threatening to send you to your knees. He brings a hand to hold tight to your hip, no doubt leaving bruises, before wrapping around your waist to keep you stable. Your eyes flutter and roll at the harsh touch, at the push of himself so deep within. His groan is guttural and low when he notices the way your body tenses.
“There?” He asks, not that he doesn’t already know.
He just wants to hear you. To listen to the way your voice shakes for him.
“Yes. There, please, don’t-don’t stop.”
He pushes your legs further apart, both hands now holding you in place at your hips, his thrusts hitting that found spot repeatedly. It has you seeing stars, your mouth opening to moan his name, over and over and-
The bite on your shoulder is sudden and it hurts and you cum. You can’t hold it back, you can’t do anything but let him consume you. His hips stutter but he doesn’t stop, not until you’re returning to yourself and allowing him to pull you away from the wall.
He brings you to the bed and you fall flat, blinking in a daze up at him, gasping when he slides back in with ease. It’s not rare for this position to be the final. There is never a moment where he doesn’t enjoy watching the pleasure wash over you. His eyes flit across your features as you arch your back, hips held up while he rams into you. You dig your nails into his forearms, thighs shaking, entire body turning to a tremble until finally, finally, he pushes impossibly deep.
You feel him releasing into you, pulsing with heat. He leans down and breathes against your throat, teeth grazing with the desire to bite again and although you wouldn’t mind it, he stops himself.
Instead, he practically whimpers as you wrap your legs around him, making sure he can’t pull out until he’s drained. He holds himself up on his forearms, licking and kissing your skin, a hand settled within your hair.
Your abdomens brush as you both try to catch your breath. It’s funny, you think almost deliriously, how he can fight for so long and be undisturbed by the labor. It is only after moments like these that he is truly rattled; his body quivering, his heart beating so powerfully.
You huff a laugh and brush your fingers through his own hair, feeling him soften inside of you before finally letting him go.
He pulls out with a soft groan, cum dripping out of you in a slow trail, though neither of you are in any hurry to rise or clean up. You simply shift, glad to feel him rest his head on your chest, to have his weight settled atop you.
He brushes his hand along your ribs as the sharp sting on your shoulder returns.
“You bit me again.” You laugh.
He winces, “I’m sorry.”
“I like it.” You trail your thumb against his jawline, “I like that you can let go with me.”
He hums, roaming your skin, touching any scar or freckle or dip that he can. “I need to go. To clean up my…mess.”
You let out a heavy sigh, refusing to let this moment pass. So, before he can even question your intentions, you shift and slide until you’re straddling his hips. He stares up at you, brow raised, a gulp stuck in his throat.
It takes no time at all for him to grow hard. You feel it press against you and you take it, sliding down his length slowly, eyes fluttering at how it fills you up once more.
“Messes can wait.” You rise and drop in a slow roll, smiling at the way he can’t even protest. All he does is watch you, cheeks flushed, hands moving to grab hold of the sheets. “Everything can wait. Just, stay with me. Stay.”
And so, in the end, he does.
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