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leviathanleva · 7 months ago

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Father

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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Request:

This is kind of a weird req and I want to write something for it eventually but-

Fem! Reader who was frozen but eventually escapes and falls for the Ghoul and they fuck a couple times and for some reason she has symptoms of pregnancy and they're like what the fuck but it just turns out that she was pregnant before she was frozen and the Ghoul's reactions and whatever. Angst or fluff I don't really mind :)

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[3.2k words]

[MDNI, Angst, Smut, Fluff]

[ I don't usually do requests, but I wanted to help out a friend who believed they wouldn't be able to do justice to this prompt. It's sloppy, not perfect, but time is limited and I have other projects that need my attention so I hope this suffices. ]

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Freedom.

Freedom was sweet.

Freedom was bitter.

Since the moment you’d awoken in that Gods-forsaken cryo pod in that wasting away vault you’d known there was no other path except the path of freedom. Stepping over mummified corpses, fellow vault dwellers you presumed, you’d lead wobbly legs and a pounding heart to the entrance of the vault. It felt like yesterday you’d first set foot in there. In reality, you had no idea how many years had passed, but from the looks of the rusting walls and thick blanket of dust, it had been a while.

You took what you could, stuffing a stray children’s backpack you’d found along your scavenging mission, anything and everything that would be necessary for a journey into a land you used to call home. A small pocket knife was the best you could get and it wasn’t the perfect self-defense tool, but with no other choice there wasn’t much you could do but stuff it in the pocket of your suit and hope for a miracle if you ran into trouble.

And trouble you found.

Since your first step into the bone-dry, scalding hot, merciless wasteland, you’d found trouble in the shape of a deranged group of people hammering at the vault door with makeshift weapons. You might have been able to fight off one of them, you doubted given how dizzy and out-of-touch with reality you were, but there was a slim chance. Three of them though, all large burly men with enough scars to put a military general to shame? No, that was impossible. You ended up a writhing mess on the ground, face pushed into the cracked soil and screaming and kicking as you were being taunted and tied up like a good catch after a successful hunt. Trafficking, cannibalism, organ harvesting, death. A slew of words so vile they made your stomach churn and your eyes bulge out of your skull because who in their right mind said such things to an outnumbered, weak woman who pleaded in a broken voice and had tears staining her cheeks?

Then he appeared, your guardian angel.

A man so grotesque on the outside, so vicious and bitter and terrifying, and yet he was the one who shot your captors down. He was the one who cut your wrists and ankles free and helped you sit up as you heaved and choked and sobbed. He was the one who checked you over despite the visible revulsion on his gaunt face at the sight of your vault suit. He’d dragged you to your feet, forced some sense into you, given you a stern reality check of the world he came from and never really shooed you away when you’d started following him around like a lost pup.

You loved him since that day.

And maybe it wasn’t the good kind of love because he’d used you as a distraction for his enemies more than once and never shared his water with you even if you were on the brink of passing out from dehydration. But he also let you sit close to the fire at night, told you stories of his bounty hunts, taught you how to handle a gun and always kept you in his sights lest someone thought you were up for grabs. He was a cruel man, but he was also a kind man.

You never overstepped. Always following his every order, whether it was to hide, to strip bleeding men of their valuables, or to get him another drink when his feet were kicked high and he couldn’t be bothered to do so himself. Always pliant, always willing, no questions asked because you wanted to live despite the hellhole reality you were thrust in. Maybe that’s why he grew fond of you over time, you didn’t rebel against him and took what he gave you with a whisper of gratitude. A good dog, that’s how he saw you. He slowly softened for you, split your rations evenly when you sat down to eat, thrust the canteen in your hands when he noticed your lips were dry, and smushed his hat over your head when the sun was too awful and you were too delicate to withstand it.

Cooper Howard, that was his name, a man made ghoul by the sheer toxicity of the surface, a man who gave you enough scraps to keep your love for him flourishing but never progressed things beyond a one-sided infatuation.

That is until he was left struggling on the floor of an old abandoned farmhouse, a feral ghoul looming above him and pinning him in place and snapping its jaws at him as foul-smelling, viscous drool dribbled down its chin. His hunting knife was gripped tightly, but between keeping himself from being bitten to shreds and holding one of the ghoul’s hands at bay before it could sink into his side and tear at his gut, he was stuck.

When the shot rang out and the ghoul slumped against him lifelessly, he saw you. Holding his gun as you shook violently, about ready to piss yourself because you’d never killed anything remotely resembling a human in your life, eyes wide and lips trembling and knees buckling. Smoke leisurely rose from the tip of the barrel and as he pushed the corpse off himself you sunk to your arse and burst into a fit of haggard breaths and disturbed whines.

You didn’t resist when he picked you up with alien tenderness, didn’t protest when he stuffed you in an old rickety couch and crushed you beneath his weight with a handful of sweet praises. You didn’t pull away in disgust when his tongue pushed past your lips in search of your own, twirling, dancing, letting words spill without ever being spoken. He wasn’t gentle, since the moment you heard his belt unbuckling he was all pawing hands and chopped curses, fiddling with your clothes until his need became too much to bear and he simply ripped them off. He threw a weak promise to get you new ones, but you couldn't care less at that moment. High-pitched mewls and desperate grunts bounced off the walls as he took you on that couch, rutting into you like a man possessed and gripping onto you so firmly as if you’d come to your senses any moment now and run away from him.

A radstorm raged outside, clashing against the boarded-up windows as the pitter-patter of acid rain poured against the tin roof. You never even noticed, too drunk on the sloppy sounds coming from the slick mess of your conjoined bodies, on the verge of a climax so raw it would surely knock you out. Blunt fingernails sank in your supple thighs, scarred hips slammed into yours as he fucked you dumb into the couch. His mouth never left yours, whether it was to keep himself quiet in case too many loving words escaped or because he craved your taste like a rabid dog did blood, you didn’t know. When your ankles locked around his waist he snarled, whatever self-control he’d managed to scrape by completely dissipating as he drove himself deeper. The tip of his cock snapped against the barrier of your squishy cervix so deliciously and you screamed his name in desperation and he couldn’t fucking take it anymore. He released one of your hips to slide a hand between your bodies and drag his rough thumb over your swollen clit. Your back arched, eyes rolled back and mouth agape as you bombarded him with barely coherent sentences that he didn’t deserve. He clutched at your hair when you clamped down on him, milking him for everything he had while he rocked out his release with face stuffed in the crook of your neck.

Something in him changed after that night.

It might have been the unfathomably long time without a caring touch or him finally succumbing to the little voices in his head telling him what he held for you wasn’t simply fondness. He took you every chance he got. In a guest house, against the wall of a bar after one too many drinks, bent over on a chewed-up fence after scavenging another farmhouse. He was relentless and you loved that about him. You loved everything about him. Always needy and ready and he couldn’t ask for more because this was the closest he could get to expressing himself when it came to you.

Life was good.

Everything was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

You wince as the needle prickles your skin before retracting back in the Pip-boy. The green screen whirls, loading up and analyzing your blood sample for a full body scan. You give the damn thing a few smacks when it freezes and stutters.

Now really wasn’t the time for technical difficulties.

“You okay?”

Apparently, no matter how hard you had tried to hide your bubbling panic, it was still evident enough for Cooper to notice. He’s looking at you with a hint of suspicion, attention averted from the steaming can of cram he’d been stuffing in his mouth.

“I’m good, no worries.” you muster up a weary smile and instinctively tuck the Pip-boy closer to your stomach.

When the Vault Boy pops up on the screen with all the information available regarding your condition, you tense up. Your fingers hesitate to turn the cog to the main body scan as doubts and confusion and raw, untamable fear chew at your sensitive stomach and tug you slowly towards the gates of insanity.

“Don’t look okay to me.” Cooper straightens from his slouched-over position over the measly fire and sets aside his food before clasping a hand over one of his thighs. “Was wrong? Was I too rough again?” there’s a teasing scowl brightening his usually stoic expression, he scoffs and shakes his head. “I told you t’ smack my shoulder when I get too loose, woman. You never listen.”

You want to cry and laugh, but you do neither.

“That’s not it, Cooper.”

“Then speak for fuck’s sake!” he grumbles and gestures to you with slight agitation.

You pay him no mind, having delved too deep in the premises of your mind on what you were supposed to do if you read that single life-changing word on the scan. With a huff and a mental pat on your back, you turned the cog and opened the main body scan.

“Pregnant.”

It made sense. It explained the morning sickness that you hid, being forced out of your sleep while Cooper snored lightly next to you, and carefully pulling away before rushing to a safe spot where you could empty your stomach without being seen. You never told him, just jammed RadAway after RadAway, hoping it was poisoning or maybe some sort of flu. When the cravings came, you started second-guessing. You never gave into them, throwing caps left and right for a slice of some nearly impossible-to-get delicacy was unthinkable, you had to survive and there was no room for luxury.

You failed to spot the rugged ghoul as he left his seat and crept closer, spurred by your awkward demeanor, until he was kneeling right next to you and silently sharing the sight of the green graph.

“What in the hell…”

You recoiled at his words, at his realization, and tried to cover the Pip-boy with your hand and hide the thunderous revelation of your condition.

He was having none of it.

He smacked your hand away and gripped your forearm so tight you shuddered, bringing it closer to his eyes as his face contorted.

“What the fuck does this mean?” he spits and looks at you with something vile in those whiskey-colored eyes you loved so much.

“I don’t – ” you swallow thickly, crumbling under his gaze and snuffing out the need to rip away from him and run. You meet his stare for a split second before turning away. “ – I haven’t…Not with anyone except you.”

Lightning strikes into his core and he pulls away like bitten by a snake.

“The hell you mean you haven’t fucked anyone ‘cept me?” he stands, intimidating and cold, berating you with just his visage and nothing more. “How the fuck did you get pregnant then?”

“I’ve been with you since the day I left the vault, you know this.” you reach out for him, desperate for some sort of comfort, desperate for him to calm down because you couldn’t mentally take on both him and the news. “Cooper, please.”

He shoots you down with a snarl and a spine-chilling glare.

“Don’t fucken’ touch me.”

He’s pacing, trotting around like a cornered animal, the spurs on his boots clinking, a sickening cacophony that roots you in place and keeps your mouth shut. You don’t know what to say, you’re not a liar, yet you wish this was some twisted joke and you could laugh it off and confirm it wasn’t real.

A hand is rubbing vigorously at his chin as he tries to think, but there’s nothing in his head except that one single word that means so much and makes absolutely no sense.

He knew you weren’t lying, he’d always kept you within arm’s length, there was no way for you to even sneak past him without being noticed.

It still hurt though, the image of you leaving because he was a rotten man who’d struck gold by finding you. He was no good for you, never would be, and it tore him to shreds because he knew all of this and still he kept you by his side and cocked his gun at anyone who tried to step too close.

Why wouldn’t you bed another man when he looked like a walking corpse and acted even worse? Why wouldn’t you ditch him to be with a nice bartender or a good-mannered farmboy who would treat you like a lady should be treated?

Why wouldn’t you cheat him out of the only happiness he had?

“Is not fucking possible, Sweetheart.” he finally speaks, faltering at your audible sobs. The idea of you slipping past his fingers to sleep with someone else is pushed to the side by the absolutely pathetic sight of you curled up on the floor and crying.

Ghouls were sterile, all of them, 100%, there was no way for him to knock you up even if he wanted to. But the Pip-boy said otherwise and now he was left questioning the very foundation of his existence.

“I know that.” you sputter through choppy hiccups. “But you’re the only man I’ve been with...It doesn’t make fucking sense.” you clutch at your sides, waterfalls streaming down your cheeks and pooling under your chin, eyes distant and jittery. “What if it’s deformed because of the radiation? Or if it’s not even alive? Or – What am I supposed to do…”

His body moves despite his protests.

He kneels in front of you, encasing you between his thighs, his fingers twitching and rising as he drowns in the long-forgotten feeling of being presented with such news. His hands are shaking and he rests them over your shoulders and pretends he can’t feel his pulse rampaging in his throat.

“What do you wanna do?”

It’s such a simple question, but coming from him under such a premise makes your head spin and your heart stop.

“I – ” you press your forehead against the center of his collarbones, arms protectively curling over your belly because despite not showing there was someone in there. Someone precious. “ – I don’t know…I’d like to – I don’t know.”

You stop and start, cutting off words that you weren’t ready to tell him yet and he wasn’t ready to hear either. But life didn’t care if you were ready or not, things happened, consent or not, and now you were both stuck in a mess you’d unwittingly made all by yourselves. There was always the easy route – find a settlement, get to the doc, have it removed, done deal, easy peasy.

But did you really want that?

It wasn’t just your kid, it was his too and him not saying a word, not even mentioning discarding it made things so much harder.

No, he gave you a choice, he put everything in your hands and he was holding you while you fought a silent battle that would dictate the entirety of your future.

“I think – ”

“ – I ain’t goin’ fucken’ nowhere.” he slices through your hesitation like butter, body rigid and jaw clenched because for once he was trying to be a man and not a monster.

Maybe even a father.

You shatter in his arms like glass and he presses one of his palms against the back of your head while the other circles your waist and brings you closer.

“You’d stay?” you ask with such horror and disbelief that it clutches at his chest and he struggles to breathe. You’re no coward, despite how heavy the air feels, you look up at him and you’re so vulnerable and angelic that he forgets every setback that would come his way. “If I kept it…you’d stay?”

He can’t answer, the words refuse to form, but he holds your gaze with calm stability, a good masquerade to hide a mind that was racing and a heart that was pounding so heavily he felt his entire body pulsing. Instead, he leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your forehead in a voiceless promise.

You suck in a breath like it’s your first and cling to the collar of his coat, disappearing in his form, hiding from the world that was so cruel yet gifted you with something so precious.

The Pip-boy is still lit and waiting, the scan bright and piercing. You skim over it absentmindedly, a simple curious flick, then look again and squint your eyes at the tiny text printed under your pregnancy announcement.

“Four months.”

You’d only been out of cryo for three…

He followed your wide-eyed stare, he was no fool, he could do basic math.

You’d been pregnant before meeting him, before leaving the vault, before the bombs.

You want to puke. You want to rip your skin off and bury yourself alive because for the love of God it couldn’t be just perfect, there had to be some sick underlying thing to ruin everything. It wasn’t his, he was right, ghouls couldn’t have children.

It wasn’t his child.

You look disgusted and utterly pained because the realization makes you mourn at the idea of carrying his baby. You wanted to, you’d give anything for it to be his and not some random bloke you couldn’t even remember the face of. You wanted it to be his…

You search his face for anger or disappointment or anything that would prepare you for what was to come. Why would he stay if the damn thing wasn’t even his? He had his own problems, his mission. You were just an obstacle that had nearly made him believe he was going to be a father and maybe it was his second chance at doing it right.

There was nothing though.

He simply blinked at you, lips parted as he formed a sentence that had you pledge yourself to him for as long as you stood and breathed.

“That don’t change a damn thing.”

Masterlist

Tag list: @bountydroid @v3lv3tf0x @silverose365

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x you #the ghoul fallout #x reader

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zorosdimples · 9 months ago

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cw: mentions of alcohol and brief body talk. something something soft diluc… just a rambling sketch of his character.

diluc cuts an imposing figure.

he blots out the sun when he rises to his full height, crimson mane fiery enough to light up the sky. but it isn’t just his stature that’s noteworthy or intimidating—it’s the attention that his presence commands, the authority laced in his deep voice, the firm set of his jaw. despite his blazing irises and hair, his personality exudes as much warmth as a cryo slime.

the townsfolk often call him a recluse. he’s usually holed up in his study, working through contracts and records and estimations, pausing (not often enough) to survey the vines. sometimes he tends to his tavern, pouring wine and mixing drinks. those days are tedious and hard on his back—small talk is exhausting.

his after-dark heroics keep him fit, arms muscular and legs sturdy. but he isn’t lean or trim like he was as an adolescent; rich wine and hearty meals keep his stomach and chest—broad and strong—from slimming down. not that the nobleman has ever cared much about his appearance. people will always find something to gossip about.

anymore, all diluc cares about is how you enjoy curling up with him at the end of a tiring day. after he slips out of his finery, you untie his hair, massaging his scalp until he gifts you a heady groan. and when you rest with him, your cheek is warm against his plush pecs, your bare arm thrown across his soft middle.

you play with the scarlet down that covers his freckled flesh, contented sighs tumbling from your lips as your lover strokes your shoulder with unfettered tenderness. there’s a gleam in his eye, a flickering candle behind a glass of claret wine. it speaks of love, of comfort, of contentment, of hope.

#this makes little sense and i can’t lie and say that it has no purpose because all writing has a purpose. i guess it’s just a little sketch #think of it as that! anyway #back to not thinking about him #diluc x reader #diluc <3

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penelopedreadful · 6 days ago

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I've noticed a few people notice that there's only four cryo-stasis pods in Mouthwashing, but I don't think people actually talk about it enough or acknowledge the reasoning for it.

We can possibly assume that there's another one for the captain somewhere, but I think the more logical assumption is that the captain isn't meant to have one. Since the crew has their own quarters until they closed off by the foam, it's clear the cryo-stasis pods are probably just for emergency use, and in that case, who wouldn't be frozen in the case of an emergency?

We hear reference to a captain going down with their ship a few times, and while that's fairly standard terminology, I wouldn't put it past a company like Pony Express to have that be protocol..

And yet... the captain doesn't go down with the ship.

Sure, Jimmy is technically the acting captain by the end of it due to Curly's injuries, but Curly is still the original captain. He would have been the one to go down with the ship in the case of an emergency... which means Jimmy's final act, the act of putting Curly in the only cryo-stasis pod...

It's not a noble sacrifice, it's not the only good thing Jimmy does... it's an insult. It's an insult to Curly's honour as a captain, on top of the insult he's already dealt in framing Curly for the crash to begin with. His last act is to make sure Curly isn't the one that goes down with the ship, that Curly is the only person that doesn't.

In the chance, slim as it may be, that anyone finds the ship to rescue what remains of the crew, they'll find only its captain, who didn't have the agency to decide to go down with his ship, and who failed to keep his crew alive...

Jimmy's last act is to destroy the only thing Curly had left, the thing he was so jealous of... his captainhood. The only thing he fixes is his own envy, because Curly is no longer the good captain at the top of the ladder. Jimmy didn't climb the ladder, he just cut it out from under Curly.

#mouthwashing #mouthwashing spoilers #mouthwashing jimmy #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing game

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teyvats-worst-hero · 1 year ago

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This is a Clorinde appreciation post.

She had to make the split second decision to short circuit the doors and very possibly leave Wrio to his death, and she didn’t hesitate despite knowing him on a personal level. That’s a stone cold bitch.

But it also got me wondering:

Why the hell would you take an electro gun user to fight a fucking tsunami?

And then I thought about it.

If Wrio didn’t make it out, Clorinde would have brought the whole prison down on top of herself.

The only possible explanation for why she stayed behind instead of another Cryo or Hydro unit was that it wouldn’t have worked. None of it would have.

The fortress would be a loss if they couldn’t stop it short, and if the tsunami escaped the fortress, all of Fontaine would die.

It was shown in that same scene that Clorinde can manually drop the doors and break machinery with electro. She did it to keep back the water for Wrio.

And barricading the whole prison permanently was probably the only thing that had a chance at keeping back the waters. There’s a very slim possibility of escaping in that situation, so I think it was probably designed as a suicide mission if it went wrong. Clearly it was planned in advance that they would not wait if someone couldn’t outrun the water based on the actual cutscene.

Imagine being chased through the prison by an unstoppable wave that is guaranteed to dissolve you if you even touch it, knowing that you’re sealing a tomb around yourself in an attempt to save a country that doesn’t even know it’s in danger? Imagine if you just watched a friend die for it, knowing no one will understand what happened?

This is just speculation, but it makes too much sense to me.

#genshin clorinde #genshin impact #genshin #genshin 4.1 spoilers #genshin 4.1

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quaggyday · 1 year ago

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Thoughts about Fontaine I had

-Honestly it would be really cool if Wriothesley was blind or visually impaired in some way but the chances of Hoyo making this guy a disabled playable character are slim. Maybe they will pull a legitimate W but chances are low sadly (fan fiction still exists though sooo)

-Fontaine is looking pretty good and I’m mostly interested in whatever screwed up shit the blond siblings of this place went through since two of them have an anemo and Cryo vision, two visions that are consistently known for being screwed backstory wise

-I was surprised they choose Arlecchino for Fontaine instead of Sandrone but it actually intrigues me more since its most likely she’s here to get the hydro gnosis. Since she’s a knave in the nation of justice I think the whole point of her being here is too show the screwed up society behind the curtain

-Furina is interesting because it seems she’s gonna be our antagonist in this story, hoping hard that Hoyo won’t do what Inazuma did with antagonist archons though

#genshin impact #genshin #wriothesley #lyney #lynette #freminet #arlecchino #furina #fontaine #genshin 4.0 #spoilers #blind character #PLEASE HOYO MAKE WRIOTHESLEY BLIND #AND DONT SCREW IT UP

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theendisneat · 2 months ago

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Ladyhawke

Pairing: Xiao x gn!reader Warnings: Slight body horror (animal transformations), angst, injury Word Count: 5713

The traveler only ever called for Xiao when it was absolutely necessary, not wanting to impede on his work or step on his toes. Considering he has enough visible stress to be worrisome, Aether refused to regulate the man to backup by his side ‘just in case’ something went wrong, no matter how safe that would make him feel.

It is currently an emergency.

Aether had been peacefully collecting ingredients for the monstrous amount of food he had to make, mainly for Paimon’s never ending stomach, when he had been ambushed by multiple geovishaps. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem, however, in the middle of dodging the rolling boulders, a swarm of hilichurls and mitachurls had come to join them, swinging their little clubs, firing those annoying elemental arrows, and attempting to bash him with their heavy shields.

If Aether still had his natural abilities, the ones that had been locked away from the moment he woke on this planet, this situation would’ve been close to nothing for him. Unfortunately, such was not the case.

The combination of attacks from all sides left him dizzy as he tried to defend himself from everyone, but it was far too overwhelming. The clubs beat at his stomach and legs, the arrows constantly nicked his arms, and at one point even his neck, leaving him with traces of cryo and electro uncomfortably scattered all over. It took more concentration than he’d like from him to dodge each rolling vishap and swing from the mitachurls’ rock shields.

It was a slam to the side from one of the vishaps, sharp spikes of rocks cutting into his side alongside the brute force that had him gasping for breath, when he finally groaned out Xiao’s name, clutching his bleeding skin desperately.

Arriving in a flash of green light, Xiao slashed at the closest monster, his polearm carving a deep cut in the creature’s abdomen that had it crumbling to dust. Flashing from spot to spot, expression unchanged from its stoney glare, Xiao mercilessly destroyed each creature.

When he was finally finished his eyes flicked to Aether with something akin to concern. Grabbing onto the traveler’s upper arms, he helped the man sit on the bumpy ground.

“Do not move.” Xiao ordered. “Your injuries are serious.”

“I figured.” Aether groaned again, his breath hitching with every twinge of pain. “I’m too far from the harbor. How am I going to get a doctor?”

Xiao’s brows pinched. “Do you not carry medical supplies on your person?”

“Not enough to help me right now.”

The bleeding was getting worse, dripping down his side and sinking into the whites of his clothes, turning them a stark, ugly red. The patches of cryo and electro that stuck to Aether’s skin, growing from the little cuts made by the arrow tips, were spreading, making it difficult to move his neck.

“I could bring you to a doctor through the wind though I am unsure on whether or not your body will be able to handle the strain-”

A lilting chirp broke both from their conversation. From the sky came an ethereal, glittering bird. With a slim yet round body, like that of a pheasant and long, colorful plumage of bright oranges, blues, pinks, and greens, creating a strangely contrasting yet appealing sight. Its form was graceful, gliding through the wind as if it was floating, merely being carried along by a current. Light bounced off the creature’s feathers, reflecting the rays of the sun in a way that made it look as if it was covered in gemstones.

The bird lowered until its dainty claws were resting on Xiao’s shoulder. Though fairly large, it seemed to bear no weight onto the adeptus, simply nuzzling the man’s cheek with a startlingly gold colored beak. Its eyes were a flaming red and focused only on the one it landed on.

The bird clicked its beak, somehow giving off an air of disappointment as its feathers ruffled before smoothing over.

“I apologize.” Xiao spoke, in the most sincere voice Aether had ever heard from him. “A friend called for my aid.”

The bird clicked disapprovingly and turned its shining eyes on Aether instead. Floating down, it hopped around Aether’s tired body, inspecting it from top to bottom, looking closely at his wounds.

“May you go get us a doctor?” Xiao asks.

The bird chirps once more, and with a nip to Xiao’s cheek, flies off, its long tail plumage brushing against Aether’s cheek.

“What was that?” He asked breathlessly, the wound on his sides having him gasp for air.

“A long time companion of mine. Don’t worry, they’re very fast and they’ll get a doctor on time.”

“How long have you known them?” Aether looks over to see Xiao’s face, a mix of complicated emotions flashing across his features.

“For as long as I can remember.”

Sneaking through the foliage, Alatus tried to keep his steps as quiet as possible. He winced with every brush of his hair against the leaves or every crack of a twig under his foot. Finally making it to a break in the trees, he let out a breath of relief and stepped into the clearing.

Surrounded by looming trees of dark wood was a little field of Qingxin flowers, the air almost cloying with a light scent. It calmed his mind to be here, waiting silently.

Arms slid around his waist, strong and sure. A chin hooked over his shoulder and a warm breath tickled his ear. A kiss was pressed to his temple.

“Hello Alatus.”

He shuddered in their hold, leaning back against their chest. His face was turned away from them to hide the bright redness that riddled his cheeks. “[Y/n], it’s entirely unnecessary to announce yourself to me like this.”

“Oh come on, love. I cannot tease you? Not even when we are alone?” Hands traveled down his sides, petting his waist and squeezing his hips.

“[Y/n]!” He shook out of their hold, whipping around to face them. An infuriating smirk was on their lips, one that had his stomach rolling, and their eyes were glimmering playfully.

They chuckled, deep and amused. “I’m sorry, love. Won’t you forgive me?”

Alatus scoffed at the sight of [Y/n]s eyes twisted into that of a puppy dog, begging and shining. “No, I do not forgive.”

“Alatus! Please!” They whined, stepping forward as if about to hug him.

He stepped back and they continued until [Y/n] was chasing him around the clearing. Round and round in a circle they went, careful not to trample on the swaying Qingxins, but hands grabbed his waist once more and lifted him in the air. He yelped as he was manhandled, instinctively wrapping his legs around [Y/n]’s waist as they wrapped their arms around his own waist. His hands rested on their shoulders, fingers scrunching the coarse fabric of a working robe.

Alatus glares down at his lover, pinching their cheek in a way so soft it couldn’t even count as a reprimand. “You are too shameless! Lifting me like this! Do you think I am a toy to be played with?”

They hummed. “Well, you are certainly small enough to be one.” They chuckled as Alatus flailed, attempting to kick the back of their knees.

“You- ridiculous-” Alatus was too flustered to function, brain shorting out and face as red as a tomato.

He plopped his head on the other’s shoulder, the fight finally leaving him when all his kicking and annoyance did nothing to shake their hold. He felt that breath next to his ear again, warm, sending shivers down his spine.

“I’m so happy to see you, my love. How many months has it been since I’ve gotten to see you face to face?” Their voice was tender, full of longing despite the fact that Alatus was in their arms, practically snuggling into them.

He understood their distress, he felt it too. Their affair could never be public, a servant of the cruel god that ravished the land and a pathetic human that tilled the earth for a modicum of grain to feed themselves and the little ones of the run down village at the bottom of the mountain. No, it could never be exposed.

Alatus could only imagine the harshness that would rain upon his lover if their union was ever to be discovered. Cruelty of the most disgusting kind from his God- no, his owner- in the form of torture, perhaps whips and chains, branding irons and starvation. Alatus could think of a number of ways his owner would destroy the soul of the one holding him in their arms.

Truly, he should let them go. He should have never lowered his spear when he first encountered them, robes worn and dirty, a slowly breaking wicker basket in the crook of their arm. ‘They’re for the children’ they had said, ‘the little ones of my village hardly get any happiness and I couldn’t help myself when I discovered this little patch of flowers. They’d make such great flower crowns, you know?’

His traitorous, romantic heart thudded. His grip slackened and his spear fell to his side. ‘Do not make a habit of coming.’ He had scolded. At the time, this had been the spot he would run off to whenever his owner got upset, frustrated, with any situation. It was not difficult to trigger his temper, and with his temper came his venomous words and harsh hands. He had not wanted anyone else to frequent the one place he could get away. ‘Stay in your village, or I will use more forceful measures to keep you away.’

Oh, what a fool he was. He should’ve known that he had presented a challenge when that, now familiar, smirk appeared on their face. ‘We’ll see about that.’

But now, though he knew- he knew- he should have never started this relationship, he could not regret it. The times they had met in the clearing after that, the teasing and playing, the dozing and stargazing. How could he come to regret those times? How could he come to regret the conversations under the blanket of a warm sunset, where the days had been too much and he spoke about not only the cruelty he was under, but the cruelty he engaged in?

He could not begin to regret the times that they had held him, wrapped him in their comforting scent and simply listened. Listened to him cry about how much he hated himself, hated his owner, hated the world and the gods and the very ground he walked upon. They stroked his hair and pressed kisses to his forehead, never letting him go or pulling back in disgust. His prickly temper never put them off and he was always so grateful for their patience.

Similarly, there were bad days for them too. Days where taking care of their little village had been too much. Being one of the only able-bodied adults in a community of the elderly and children orphaned by other feats of destruction done by the gods, much responsibility fell on them to farm, to care for the children when other could not, to learn to sew and cook when the elderly’s joint could not handle the fine motions.

They felt helpless on those days, helpless and guilty. The pressure of having to take care of everyone and still have the kids who died of infection or starvation, the old men and women who laid dead in their homes for a few days before anybody noticed because they could not check up on everyone all the time.

Their broken voice when they admitted to hating themselves for bothering Alatus with their problems when he had much more going on. He put a stop to that line of thought very quickly.

Then the years passed. Their meetings had never been consistent, but they had been frequent, and Alatus began to feel the urge to love them differently. To have his hands roam across their body, pressing into sensitive places. To cover them in kisses and bites. To cherish them and hold them in their darkest hours and brightest days.

He could recognize it as more than friendship and was relieved [Y/n] could too, accepting his affection and giving back their own tenfold.

They were not shy with their affection. Alatus showed his love for them in more subtle ways that helped him keep his face from bursting, and he was content knowing they appreciated the gestures, but there was nothing Alatus could initiate that was quite like what they were doing now.

Concealed in his lover’s arms, his legs around their waist, squeezing them together. Little kisses being littered on his reddened cheeks, their voice so full of concern and love it made his heart burst.

“Too long.” He replied back. “Four months since we last saw each other in person.”

They hummed contemplatively, knocking their forehead lightly against his. “Any recent injuries? Lasting pain?”

He was about to shake his head no when the little cramps in his back and stomach decided to act up, irritating the already sore muscles. “Cramps.”

[Y/n] lowered them to the forest floor, spinning him around so he was still sitting in their lap but his back was pressing against their chest.

“In your back, as usual?” Their lithe fingers began to swiftly press along the plains of his back forcing small grunts of pain past his lips.

“And stomach.” He couldn’t see them nod but he knew they heard.

He sat there silently, as silently as he could be, as they kneaded into his back, working out the several knots and pains. Their gentle hands slid to his front, working out the pain much more delicately than they had the back, something Alatus appreciated when he realized just how much more painful his stomach was than his back.

One particular knot had him curling over, whining. A kiss was pressed to the back of his neck, the fingers eased from the sore spot.

“Bad one?”

“Yes…” His voice was breathy. He sighed and uncurled himself, leaning back into their embrace. “Thank you. I feel better.”

“I’m so delighted that you feel better, Alatus.”

Alatus felt [Y/n] tense around him, holding him even closer to their chest in an instinctive act to protect him. He shuffled in their hold to look over their shoulder. His veins turned to ice when he saw the shadowy figure creeping along the edge of his safe haven.

Licks of dark shadows followed the pale, bare feet of the cruel god. Robes as dark as the night swished around thin ankles. The draping fabric clung to a tall, lanky body. Pin straight black hair fell to the being’s waist, cut strands framing an angular face in a strange contortment of amusement and anger.

Alatus felt himself shaking, felt his arms going around [Y/n]’s head in a useless attempt to cover their face, as if he could shield them from the tyrant standing only a few steps away.

“My Lord, I-”

“Now isn’t it strange that I find my most diligent, incredible warrior cooped up in this little meadow with a peasant when he told me he was going to check over the prisoners he had helped me capture and torture just last night?” Alatus flinched at the wide smile, thin lips pulled back to reveal sharp, monstrous teeth.

“Lord, please-”

“Truly amusing, I’d say.” The god’s voice was lilted, almost joyous. “I never thought my little fledgling would dare lie to me so brazenly.”

He was frozen in fear and from the feel of it, so was [Y/n]. Their arms were stiff around his body. They weren’t shaking but they were so still that Alatus could think of them as a statue.

“Come here, Alatus.” Hand held out as if a cocky noble woman ready to receive a kiss from a bumbling fool, the god was patient, waiting, expecting.

Shakily, he tried to stand, but firm arms pulled him back down. A whisper so quiet he nearly missed it. “Don’t go, you’ll be hurt.”

“We will both be hurt if I do not. Let me try to save you.” Alaus murmured back. Quickly breaking out of his lover’s hold, despite the desperately grappling hands and hissed ‘no’, he walked forward to stand before his owner.

Swallowing his pride, Alatus kneeled down and bowed further than he would to anyone else, kowtowing before the god. “Please My Lord, I have made a mistake in lying and not informing you of my true whereabouts.”

He made sure to sidestep saying that he simply made a mistake, implying his lover as part of the mistake. He could never do that and it seems his owner noticed it too.

“Is that true, my fledgling?” A hand was in his hair, cold and indifferent, just nearly tugging on little knots. It moved from his hair down his back, petting his spine in a way that had him shivering with disgust. “You made a mistake? Are you willing to correct it?”

“...Yes, Lord.” He could hear the hesitancy in his own voice.

“Really?” The hand finally stopped, resting on two vertical lines that stretched through the middle of his back. “Alatus.” The fake teasing was gone, voice flat. “Bring out your wings.”

His breath hitched. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Lord?”

“Bring out. Your wings. Alatus.”

Alatus let his wings unfurl from the scars that hid them. Bright and golden and beautiful, they stretched far longer than they might’ve needed to, almost engulfing Alatus in their glory. The feathers trembled, his hands clenched so hard, if not for his gloves, his palms would be indented and bleeding.

“So glorious. It’s such a shame you no longer deserve them.”

Alatus could not see what his owner was about to do, though he could guess, but he did feel the sudden weight on his back. [Y/n]’s long hair falling around his head like a curtain, their arms going around his waist and their forehead pressed to his nape.

“Please… please… don’t hurt him.” Their voice shook, whispering. Their hold was uncomfortably tight and no matter how much Alatus squirmed, he would not be able to break out of their arms without hurting them.

“What a passionate display of love.” His owner’s voice was littered with jealousy.

Alatus was suddenly free of the weight on his back and twisted around to see his owner holding his love by their hair. Beautiful strands tangled in needle fingers. Their eyes were screwed shut, hands grasping the god’s wrist.

Alatus felt frozen, limbs locked into place, eyes widened with terror. “Lord, please…”

“Please, please, please!” The god groaned. “That is all I have been hearing! Please what, Alatus? Certainly you are not going to beg for this pathetic creature’s life?”

His lover winced with every gesticulation, hair pulled left and right with every wave of the god’s hand. Their eyes were open now, tears falling down their cheeks, their irises looking crystalized.

“No,” the tone was thoughtful, a hand going to cup a chin. “Maybe I shouldn’t kill them. No, that wouldn’t be very fun, too simple.”

His lover was dropped and his chin was grabbed instead. Harsh nails dug into the skin of his cheeks and his head was tilted back uncomfortably.

“No, I think I have a perfectly suitable idea for punishment.” A fingertip was pressed to his forehead and he immediately felt a searing pain across his skin, burrowing deep into his mind. It dripped down the back of his neck, along his arms and torso and leg, lighting up each nerve in his body like fire.

Alatus collapsed, his body cradled by the soft grass as his fingers twitched and muscles spasmed. He resented his inability to move, that he was forced to watch his owner glade across the meadow to his fearful, shaking lover.

They too had a finger pressed to their forehead, but unlike Alatus their bones began to shift. They cracked and snapped and poked through their skin, the skin itself shrinking and tightening over the broken bones. Growths began to appear and elongate, blooming into bright, colorful feathers.

Their screams haunted Alatus's ears as their body compacted into the shape of a pheasant, sleek and undoubtedly beautiful. Their feathers glimmered from the sun spots that dappled through the trees.

The bird, the Fenghuang, that was once his lover lay limp in the grass, wings spread out like exhausted limbs. Alatus crawled to them, arms trembling so hard it was a wonder how he hadn't collapsed. He cradled their body in his roughed gloves. Eyes wet with tears that couldn't fall from sheer shock alone.

“What… what have you done to them?” His voice scratched, defeated and broken.

“Oh I just gave them a fun little curse. I gave it to you as well.” The god chuckled at the vicious glare Alatus sent. “Don't worry, the curse won't prevent you from doing your duties.”

Alatus curled his body over his lover protectively, wrapping his wings around himself to completely conceal them from view. He heard his owner huff with amusement, heard the hem of a robe brush against the grass.

“Perhaps this will encourage you to use your common sense, Alatus. I consider myself a forgiving person, so take this punishment as a learning experience.” Eyes narrowed into a glare, lips pulled back into a snarl. “You are lucky I did not kill you both.”

And soon, Alatus was alone in the clearing once more, his rough hands and gloves doing their best to delicately hold his lover, now trapped in the body of a Fenghuang.

Alatus stayed in that clearing for the rest of the day.

Once the shock had worn off, the tears finally fell. Crystalline droplets slid down his face, staining the Fenghuang in his arms with little spots, dampening the vividness of their feathers. It crushed his soul to hold them close to his chest but feel so completely disconnected from them in a way that had never happened before.

Alatus barely noticed their eyes fluttering open, their feathers rustling as they woke. It isn’t until he hears a quiet caw that he notices their movements. He looks down, watching them squirm in his hold, shaking.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispers, bending over them. “I did this to you.”

He feels their beak against his face, nipping at the skin of his cheeks. From how they lay on their back, their claws reach up to pull at his clothes as if in protest to his statements. He can only curl around them further in a vain attempt to protect them from what has already been done.

When the sun begins to set, the clearing fills with shadows and Alatus feels strange. He had been holding his Fenghuang for how long he had no idea. But now his chest constricted, his skin feeling too tight over his bones. He gasped, choking on his words as he tried to speak.

He staggered away from the Fenghuang, watching with bleary eyes as they fell to the ground, fluttering their wings to balance themselves. They look at him with something he thinks might be concern before a loud screech leaves their beak.

Far faster than the first time it happened, their body constricts, transforming into a human form. Their eyes were wild and fearful, hands scrambling to push themselves to their feet. They stumbled over to Alatus as he hunched over in pain, their legs working like that of a newborn fawn. They collapsed at his side, hands going to his shoulders.

“Alatus?” They whispered. “What’s wrong, are you hurt?”

He chuckled lowly, his face pinching when a wave of pain traveled from his chest to his limbs. “How can you be so concerned for me after what just happened to you?”

“I had a little time to come to terms with it over the past hours.”

He laughed again, leaning into their touch, gazing at them with loving eyes. The pain flared again and he fell onto his side. He pressed his forehead to the dirt, gritting his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut.

His bones break, one by one. He feels them snap out of place and reform. His wings spasm, curling and flaring and twitching violently as they shrink alongside his body. His skin prickles, an itch that erupts into pain when feathers peek out from his skin. He cries out, but he vaguely realizes it sounds more like the call of a bird.

His vision whites out, but when he comes too, he realizes how strange his body feels. He’s off kilter, the weight of his wings are wrong, the stretch of his legs is wrong. He tries to reach out to his lover, to calm their wide eyes, but he finds a golden wing stretching out instead.

‘A bird.’ He thinks. ‘I am in the form of a bird.’ A beautiful, golden bird with slim, shining feathers and the body of a phoenix. Long feathers sprouted from his head and tail, making him look particularly regal and expensive, like a prize one could only dream of finding. His talons were sharp, digging into the dirt.

“Alatus…” His lover whispered, their voice almost reverent. “I know this is a poor time to say this, but you are very lovely.”

His feathers fluffed up and he screeched. His claws shuffled and his wings ruffled. He hated how obvious his fluster was, even in this form.

His lover only stares at him with sad amusement, a small smile on their face. They held their hands out and Alatus waddled over, sitting in their palms. They lift him up and place him in their lap, their hands gentle.

“So this is the curse.” They mutter. “Once one of us turns human, the other will turn into a creature. We may never be human at the same time again.” Their brows furrowed and they began to gently get his back. “But what do you suppose causes the change? Is it when we are a creature for a certain amount of time?”

Alatus looks to the sky, his beak nipping at the air. [Y/n] follows his gaze seeing the moon now resting comfortably in the dark sky surrounded by stars. “We began to change at dusk. You think I’ll change again at dawn?”

Alatus chirps, nuzzling his beak into the crook of their neck, the only form of comfort he manages at the moment.

They sigh, their eyes lowered. “I guess we’ll figure it out.”

Figure it out, they did.

When dawn had come the next morning and the shift had happened again, they lamented the few precious minutes they got to spend with each other as humans. Minutes spent kissing, apologizing, hugging, and forgiving, until [Y/n]’s form crumpled and they became a Fenghuang once more.

The years ahead were not kind to the poor lovers. Alatus, still under his god’s control, struggled to continue following commands, hurt and anger and hatred weighing in his eyes every time he was in the same room as the god. The one mercy given was that [Y/n] was not killed, and would not be killed. Instead, they were allowed to accompany Alatus as a companion, even on the battlefield.

The two worked as a team. During the day, the sparkling Fenghuang was used to transport messages, spy, and claw out the eyes of any opponent that dared attack Alatus from the back. During the night Alatus joined them as they took care of their village and occasionally bent to the desires of his master, no matter what those orders may be.

The worst nights were when his master would have him called into the throne room and perch on the arm of the disgustingly gaudy throne. Cruel hands would pet him oh so softly before plucking out his feather, forcing him to cry out in pain, and cruel eyes would gaze at him mockingly, a lust set deep within every time a feather was pulled.

Their savior and downfall came in the form of Rex Lapis.

The archon war had truly come to their doorstep when their half-wit of a master chose to challenge Rex Lapis. They had no illusions over their god’s power. There was enough power to keep the lovers suppressed, to lord over others and enough to develop a healthy arrogance, but there was not enough to challenge the one they had heard so much about. An intelligent, diligent war god, with ruthless, true technique. By this time in the war, thousands had fallen by his hand and thousand more were sure to come.

Alatus stood in a field of dry, dead grass, the sun beating down on his back and [Y/n]’s nervous talons clenching on his shoulder. His spear was in his hand, his knuckles, white and his master’s cold and cruel laugh rang through his ears as he was forced to face off against the god alone.

Alatus looked to his lover. Over the years, their silent communication has grown, always having to communicate when the other was an animal. Alatus could see the nervousness, could feel the tension and fear. He nodded his head, a signal that he would start the fight.

His lover nodded back, and with a quick nip to his ear, they took off into the sky. He took merely a second to admire their beauty as they glided on the air currents, the sun speckling off their feathers.

He rushed forward, his spear clashing against Rex Lapis’s own. They fought, dancing around each other as weapons sparked from the intensity of every collision. Bruises showed up quickly, though not on the god’s body. Alatus only got more battered as the fight went on, no match for the imposing figure knocking his spear away with precision.

When his tired arms went lax, his fingers almost losing their grip, a strong thrust from his opponent’s spear nearly met his heart if it wasn’t for [Y/n]. With a loud screech they dove from the sky, landing on the spear and pushing the metal into the dirt. They pushed off the handle, their talons outstretched, and aimed right for the god’s throat.

Unfortunately, in the body of a simple creature, they were not fast enough for their talons to reach their intended target. A swift backhand from Rex Lapis had them tumbling through the air, landing roughly against the course dirt.

Alatus dropped his spear and ran to them, the orders from his master and the fight against Rex lapis fleeing his mind the moment he saw them hurt. Though it was not the first time [Y/n] had been injured in battle, it was the first time they had been up against an opponent so powerful. There was no telling how much force Rex Lapis had hit them with.

Alatus fell to his knees beside the still body of his lover. Eyes frantic, he looked over every part of their body, only relaxing a bit when he noticed the shallow, but steady rise and fall of their chest. He cradled them, pulling them to his chest.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Rex Lapis approaching, a distant fear settling in the cavern of his chest. His form was so similar now to when he first held [Y/n] as a Fenghuang, curled over their body, his back left defenseless.

He heard his owner scream at him, telling him to stand, to fight, but with each step closer Rex Lapis became, he relaxed. He supposes he should be horrified by the thought of dying, that his instincts should be kicking in and he would pick up his spear and fight until his last breath. Alatus couldn’t muster the strength. Perhaps it would be nice to die, for [Y/n] to die, and their souls could be reunited in the afterlife and they could once again hold each other, kiss and speak to each other.

He bends over further, almost like a rabbit bearing its neck to a ravenous wolf, but Rex Lapis did not look ravenous, more confused.

The god held the tip of his blade to Alatus’s neck. “You surrender?”

“Yes.” He rasped. “Just make sure it's painless, for them.” His gaze abandons the god and is once again captured by the form of his lover. Since he was going to die, he would rather do it while looking at them, the most beautiful being in the world.

When Alatus didn’t feel the sting of metal, he jerked his head up only to see Rex Lapis stalking towards his master. The fear in his master’s eyes as the god, the truly formidable god, slashed, and then it was over. The pathetic squirming and pleading stopped, body hitting the floor, and eyes marbling.

Alatus could only stare in shock, body still. His god, his master, his owner, lying in a pool of his own blood, red as ruby, dead. The one to give him and [Y/n] their curse, and the only one who could break it, dead.

In that moment, when Rex Lapis offered asylum, safety, in return for loyalty, Alatus couldn’t help but despise him.

The years blurred after that.

The end of the archon war, gaining his anemo vision, Khaenri’ah, the deaths of his brothers and sisters, the present. He flowed through it, [Y/n] by his side, the only thing still keeping him sane, tied to Teyvat.

Now, he sat next to the traveler, pressing onto his wound, making him stay awake as [Y/n] got a doctor.

The traveler, Aether, was a kind one, a friend. One of the only people he felt he could be somewhat vulnerable around besides his lover or Rex Lapis. It was a terrifying feeling, opening up even after all he’s lost, but the traveler felt right, a good one.

He could only hope that Aether only brings light into his and [Y/n]’s lives, instead of the morose air of their lives now.

And perhaps, he secretly hopes that Aether holds an ability that can break their curse.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin xiao #x reader #xiao x reader #genshin angst #angst #romance #immortality #unconditional love #lovers #fairytale #gender neutral y/n #xiao x y/n #xiao x you #transformation

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bel0cryotherapyllc · 23 days ago

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celestiaonlyknows · 1 year ago

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Kinktober Day 15: Shenhe- Temperature Play

R18+ Minors Do Not Interact

Read on Ao3. <- Day 14 Day 16 ->

You moan and hum into the kiss as you feel Shenhe’s hands glide across your body with feather-light touches. Your hands wander her own form as you reach between the two of you in order to be able to palm her sex and feel the dampness forming between her legs.

“W-wait,” Shenhe urged as she pushed your hand away lightly. You furrowed your brow a little bit in response.

“Did I do something wrong? Not in the mood?” You asked as you waited patiently for a response. You knew talking about what she was thinking and feeling wasn’t her strong suit, so you didn’t mind being patient and letting her take her time to communicate what she was thinking about.

“I want to try something,” Shenhe assured then before you felt her slip her fingers into the waistline of your bottoms. It didn’t seem anything too unusual at first. Just the usual careful and painfully light touches from her you were used to. Then the feeling of a chill sent a jolt through your whole body.

“Is it unpleasurable?” She asked abruptly as you feel her hand pause from her fingers hovering above your clit. Another shiver went down your spine as you could still feel the cold from her cryo vision radiating from her slim digits. “Should I stop?”

“N-no,” you manage to stammer out. “It’s different, but I don’t hate it either.” She nods in response as you feel her fingers once again on your clit and a sharp cry of pleasure squeaks its way out of you as you grip her shoulder to stabilize yourself. It was cold, almost painfully, still, it was enough to have you feeling every nerve and spark of pleasure as the blood pumped to prevent the spot from going numb.

Then her fingers slipped between your soaked folds and your head goes back with a loud cry–not caring if anyone on the mountainside heard the two of you. It was intense–to feel your body shaking with both the need for warmth and pleasure. You can’t help but pant and jerk as she continues to mercilessly assault your g-spot and let her knuckles graze over your clit for assistance in bringing you to ecstasy.

Her free hand moves to start groping your chest as she kisses your cheeks in comfort while all you could do is whimper and moan her name as she continued to fuck you open with reckless abandon.

“Come for me, please,” she breathes as almost a whisper and finally you come completely undone. Her fingers moved away from your sex quickly after and your muscles started to react as the last of the shivers left your body. You feel like mint jelly now with how relaxed your limbs are.

“No fair, I don’t have a vision,” you pouted a little as she held you close to her chest while you settled.

“Perhaps a trip to Dragon Spine so you can try yourself,” she suggested with her usual flat voice.

“Perhaps indeed,” you agreed with a smirk before you started to mouth at her chest through her top. You were far from over with this session just yet after all.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #Shenhe #shenhe x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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alkhemian · 10 months ago

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it had been a couple of decades since last they had run into one another, by now, the monotony of meeting new people paled in comparison to someone xiao knew but was always changing : someone who both stayed the same and dared to learn more. the curiosity of this world had not been lost on albedo in the same way xiao had become disenchanted ( part of them was envious, part of them was enthralled. ) albedo had been in the middle of explaining the complex symbiosis between two different sets of plants, the both of them scaling the sides of the tall mountains this side of jueyun karst. the rock here was unstable, even for the sturdiest of climbers. walking behind the alchemist xiao kept eyes on the curly wisps of his ashen ponytail before gilded eyes would fall to his boots, hand darting out for a slim waist just as the side of the perilous path gave way. xiao looked over albedo's shoulder in order to make sure the path was stable, lose rubble falling away, before becoming aware of how close they held him to their own lithe form. chest to chest, just more than a hairsbreadth between their faces. bright eyes widened, the adeptus stepping back as if having been burned, rose floretting over cheekbones as they looked away, flustered. " my apologies ... " they mumbled, unbefitting of a proud adeptus, now unable to shake the scent of parchment and cecilia flower. // @ninesense

ㅤㅤㅤ𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 - 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐬 not so adept at opening up with others - far more reserved and reticent than he'd care to admit. indeed, the homunculus remained distant from the citizens of his homeland for the most part - a polite and graceful shell of calm platitudes and easy leadership. it was not the same with xiao though. perhaps it was simply because their friendship had been so long lasting, the conqueror of demons taking the alchemist's strangeness in stride and albedo in turn caring for them in a way that he did for few others. hundreds of healing vials swapped over the years, fireside stories, little trinkets, and even banter: things with xiao were easy, and albedo was not a talkative soul - but with the adeptus, he often found himself filling their silence at random, ever so animated about his newest finding.

ㅤㅤㅤhe was particularly excited about the relationship between the pyro and cryo regisvine clippings he'd found back at his lab, long since devolved into an extremely detailed depiction of their elemental properties and at a molecular level, how pairing them together might help rebalance their aggravations. albedo is animated when he speaks about the topic, occasionally glancing over his shoulder at the conqueror of demons, nary a thought being paid to the narrow cliff wall and the dangers of the perilous drop below. no - he simply must explain to xiao how the cryo regisvine had actually started craving the interaction of pyro and-

ㅤㅤㅤthe alchemist blinks, luminous eyes wide as one second the path where his foot was is there - and the next it is gone. yet he has no time to register the echoing tumble of the rocks below - not when xiao pulls him close, strong but lithe embrace a firm grip about his waist. on reflex, albedo's hands raise - resting lightly at the other's strong shoulders, gloves curling into muscle while the clash of teal and gold fills his head. the artistic part of albedo's brain once more registers xiao as heartbreakingly beautiful, and yet the other part... the strangely human part, is waylaid by the sudden stuttering in his chest, the glow of gold from his throat as the homunculus swallows thickly and simply stares. albedo doesn't need previous life experience to tell him what he wants to do next. tilt head, lean forward, and -

ㅤㅤㅤhe resolves to let xiao slip away - stepping back from their embrace with his usual weightless grace. yet albedo does not actually let them, a hand curling into their tunic to yank them back to him, chest to chest once more and somehow, even closer. behind them, there is the sound of tumbling rocks, but albedo pays that no mind, too focused on the way their noses are pressed together, the centimeters between their lips... oh how strange it is to want something aside from knowledge, aside from rhine's approval. albedo finds in this moment, he desperately needs that kiss but...

ㅤㅤㅤit's a guise. a silly one. but he takes it, letting his eyes drift shut a moment - and their foreheads drop together. albedo exhales, still so impossibly close to those soft lips, but instead just drinking in xiao's proximity a moment longer. certainly - the yaksha can see through his feint, but albedo does not mind. ❝ oh. ❞ he murmurs so softly, eyes remaining closed to the world around them, and voice so quiet it rings like chimes between them, ❝ you gave me a fright, xiao. ❞ and if albedo's hand takes it's time coasting down the adeptus' side, he chalks it up to 'nerves' from a near fall.

#━━ ( 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐢 ) ✧ ɢɪʟᴅᴇᴅ.#━━ ( 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 ) ✧ ʙᴏʀɴ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜɪꜱ.#ninesense #ninesense / xiao #fellas is it gay to pine for your bird friend after they save you from falling #asking for a friend

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