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nc-vb · 1 year

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𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, pt. i

In advance, I apologize to those who have already seen this post. I’ve had to transfer it to a new blog thanks to a seemingly permanent ban on my former main blog, @/niicevibe. So this is just copy & paste from there. Sorry!

Happy New Years, everyone!! This was supposed to be out at the end of December... hahaha. If you haven’t noticed (from the post I made earlier this month in promotion for this), some of the tags/warnings have changed and some have been added. Ackkkkk, I’m so embarrassed by this being my first smut fic on here LMAO and that’s why it took me so long to get out. I really hope some of those more technical words used here aren’t a turn off for y’all? And side note… how tf does he get that belt thing off??? I totally wrote this piecemeal, so if there are any discrepancies or whatevs, I was all over the map writing this.

masterlist | taglist pt. i | pt. ii | pt.iii

pairing -> albedo x fem!reader

warnings -> 18+ (minors & blank blogs dni), virgin!reader, virgin!albedo, pwp, vaginal fingering, handjob, oral (m. receiving), brief deepthroating (🙏🏼), safe experimentation (& unsafe piv sex lmao), creampie (multiple, implied), impregnation (?), cock warming, aftercare; brief convo of menstrual cycles & periods; mention of blood; uhhh it’s a bit comedic at times, lawls, but this is pretty vanillz, y’know?

character mentions -> klee, kaeya, traveler, paimon, lisa, sucrose, iris, timaeus

wc -> 14.5k

Most folks would argue that taking the advice of an explosives-loving ten-year-old over that of a time and experience-hardened adventure is idiotic; that accessing Dragonspine and braving its subzero temperatures from the route at Wyrmrest Valley rather than through the adventurer’s camp by the Snow-Covered Path was reckless— not just for you, but for those who would have to come up in the mountains and search for your body (to which you easily scoffed at; adventurers do have their penchant for dramatics, after all). Whatever she thought your goal had been when you initially asked Iris for directions with your map had been of no consequence, disregarding her noisy efforts of convincing you to go her mapped route.

“Look, I’m not some adventurer— I’ve got one destination and it’s right here, now tell me the fastest way of getting there, not the adventurer’s way.”

Before the ensuing argument could take another turn for the worst, a familiar face had appeared between you. Well, below you.

“Miss ______, Miss ______!” You’d flinched then, not expecting to see a child at your side so suddenly, but upon recognizing who it’d been, your heart settled.

“Ah, Klee!” You’d dropped onto a knee, grinning as you sweep her into your arms. “Just the sweet, helpful face I’d been hoping to run into!” She’d giggled at this, taking a second to cling to you just a little tighter before finally letting you go. “Say, do you think you could help me with a teensy little problem?”

“Of course!” she’d cheered. “Spark Knight Klee of the Knights of Favonius, at your service, Miss ______! How can Klee help!?”

Reaching behind you and snatching your map out of Iris’s hands, not forgetting to shoot the woman an obvious look of disdain, you’d turned back to Klee, your smile having returned instantly.

“Well, I’m trying to find your brother’s lab,” you’d explained, “but this is the first time I’ve ever been to Dragonspine. He once marked it for me on this map, but I’m having trouble figuring out the fastest route there. You must have the best route, right, Klee?”

“I do! It’s true!!” She’d immediately stuck her nose into the parchment, with you pointing at the small, inked on “X” sitting near one of the Waypoint markers. “Ooh, yes! If you go along this snowy beach, and up a biiiiiiig hill where this bright red light is! You’ll find big brother Albedo in his lab! Klee was just there!”

“Oh, I see! He wasn’t busy, was he?”

“Nuh-uh! He and I just ate lunch together! But now I have to go back to Mondstadt to see Grand Master Jean…” At this, she’d sighed.

You made a silly face at her, lip jutted into faux suspicion. “Did you blow something up again?”

“No!!” she’d been quick to argue, though just as quick to relent. “… yes... I went fish blasting again...”

You’d chuckled. “Atta girl, Klee. If you ask me, they deserve it. Those fish never bite.”

And so thanks to Klee’s quick guidance and no thanks to that useless, no fun Iris - Klee had agreed with this statement - you were on your way through Wyrmrest Valley, passing by a strange cave filled with the bright red light the young girl had mentioned (thanks to Albedo, you knew it to contain the heart of Durin from the old stories of Mondstadt) and trekking up a snowy hill with the hood of your coat pulled tight over your head. You don’t take much of a break until you reach one of the Waypoint markers, a ten minute standing siesta against it to catch your breath and absorb its warmth before heading due east toward the black “X” on your map.

The closer you get to the mouth of the cave, the thinner the layer of soft snow covering the ground beneath you gets, until eventually, your snowshoes sound against planks of wood bolted deep into the hard, bare earth. You heave a sigh of relief, your calves having been burning almost too fiercely for you to continue. Having received such a stroke of luck for having found where you were headed… you remind yourself to not to take it for granted.

Knocking the snow off your boots off as best you can before entering, you soon spot the person you'd climbed all this way for, standing with his back to the opening and before an easel. You decide to leave your arrival unannounced, suddenly rising onto the toes of your boots to lighten your steps on your way over to him, but even despite your best effort, he still greets you.

"Hello, ______. It's nice to see you today."

"Hi, Albedo," you reply, trying hard not to sound too disappointed. "Um... how did you know it was me? You didn't even turn around..."

"Not many people brave travelling up Dragonspine just to come and visit me," he explains. "Klee, Kaeya, the Traveler and Paimon whenever they return to Mondstadt, they all greet me normally-- but when you come and visit me in Mondstadt, it's usually without notice, and, you always try to sneak up on me."

You move around from behind him to see his face. His eyes flicker onto you, while his mouth quirks into a small smile in welcoming you before returning to the canvas.

"... do I really do that every time," you ask, your embarrassment showing through your awkward grin. He nods, another brush stroke leading up the canvas. "Oh... sorry about that."

"There's no need to apologize, ______. I look forward to your visits."

Despite the cold still managing to sting your cheeks, they're quickly warmed by his words.

"Are you able to stay for a while today? I'd like to show you the conclusion of that last experiment you saw me working on, but I'd also like to finish this painting and show you it, as well."

"I saved the entire day for our visit, so don't rush anything on my account, okay?"

"I don't want to keep you here too late," he says, dipping a new, smaller-tipped brush into his paint palette. "Dragonspine is less friendly at night."

Less friendly? you wonder, thinking back on how you had to run from a Frostarm Lawachurl only twenty minutes ago. I suppose from the perspective of someone with a Vision, this makes more sense.

"Worst case scenario, I could always sleep here," you reason. Off your shoulders, you slide off your pack of supplies, and attached to the bottom of it by a pair of two thick leather straps, "since I brought my sleeping pouch with me, just in case."

"I see. Well, that does bring me more comfort than having you hiking along this mountain in the dark. Which way did you come from, anyhow?"

"The path near the heart of Durin." He immediately sighs.

"Klee. Ever since she decided to wander around the base of the mountain, it's been through that route that she's come, rather than staying on the one the Adventurer's Guild paved out."

"But the map shows it to take twice as long to get up here?"

"That's because the other paths are twice as dangerous."

"In all seriousness, Klee bombs fish for fun, so I don't think her taking a Frostarm Lawachurl down with her Pyro Vision is much of a problem, nor is it one of her biggest concerns."

"Even though that isn't the point, and not exactly a fair comparison... I have to agree. After all, I've seen it done." Your eyes widen in awe of the girl. "______, please. If you come up here again, use the safe route. I don't want to hear of anything happening to you on account of you coming to see me."

"We've been friends for a long time now, Albedo, and I appreciate you always worrying about me, I do, but really," and you place your hand on his shoulder, "you don't have to. You deal with enough stressful things. I would never dream of burdening you with such an awful feeling."

"It's because we have been friends for so long that I worry, ______. It would bring me a peace of mind for you to stay safe, no matter where you go."

All the choice words you had to say die on your tongue, deciding against starting a meaningless argument. Besides, it goes the same for you, too. Even though he has a Vision and he's a skilled fighter, you always worry when he's alone up here. Especially after that incident with his imposter.

You sigh at him, taking your hand back and moving to collapse on the edge of his cot. You yank your thick, woollen coat off of you and lay it next to your pack on the floor. "Fine. I'll take the long way here next time. But if I freeze to death, that is on you."

"It's a deal, then," he says, and you instantly roll your eyes.

"Oh, before I forget," and you reach for your pack, "I brought you something."

You have to stifle a laugh when his head whips toward you. "By any chance, is it more sweets?"

"Don't sound too excited, Albedo," you say; "you might not like this one this time."

"Was it you who made them?" he inquires.

"Naturally."

"Then I will like these ones, too."

You decide to relish in the heat created by his flattering words for an extra second before pulling out the tin. Filled with soft, white gelatin balls rolled in coconut, and at the center, a sweet jam filling, "Supposedly, the idea of them came from Fontaine, but this one is an old recipe I found from cleaning out my relative's attic the other day. They are called "coconut macaroons”.”

Standing, you open the tin and present them to him, watching his eyebrows raise as he studies them.

"Would you mind holding it for me to eat?" he suddenly asks, and in raising his hands to where you can see them covered in paint, you nod, no other words needed from him.

"Of course," you say.

Tucking the lid beneath the tin, you use your other hand to pluck one of the balls out, and hold it closer to his mouth. He gives it a light sniff per his usual routine with the food you bring him, before parting his lips to bite into it. It seems to surprise him, just how soft and sweet the treat is. Up until now, or at least in the past six months, most of what you've made for him had been either a pastry of varying textures or different kinds of cakes or biscuits, though based on your description of the new dessert, he hadn’t been expecting such a moist sweetness to it.

“So? What do you think?” He spares you a glance before leaning forward. You bring it a little closer, having drawn back to give him room, and he takes the rest of it into his mouth, his lips grazing over the tip of your index finger. “O-Oh…”

You don’t miss this. As slight as the contact had been, it still managed to freeze you in place as it registered. It was just an overextension, you fool, you tell yourself, internally shaking your head. If it wasn’t for what happened earlier, you wouldn’t have even thought it to be anything but innocent. After all… it’s not just bringing him some sweets as to why you’re here… Get your head out of the proverbial gutter, ______!

“It’s delicious,” he tells you earnestly, his turquoise eyes seeming to be shining just a little brighter. “By comparison, I think this might be one of your best creations. Did you make the jam middle yourself, too?”

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he’d decided to ask about it so as to settle your heart down. “A seventy-thirty ratio of valberries to regular berries, and refined sugar from fresh sweet flowers. Not too sweet, but not too tart either, right?”

“The perfect balance,” he agrees with a small nod. Your gaze zeroes in on the skin next to his mouth. “Thank you for bringing these, ______. I’ll definitely be enjoying them.”

“… you’re welcome,” you murmur, your brain a little slow in responding properly.

If you hadn’t bothered to visit Timaeus by Mondstadt’s alchemy station in an attempt at hunting Albedo down for the purpose of giving him these sweets, you wouldn’t have overheard the conversation at all. But it would only appear that the gods are seeing fit to serve you reminders until you bother to ask him about it. Now, it simply seems like you’re only buttering him up with the treat in order to get an answer out of him.

Which isn’t true! you’re quick to remind yourself. B-But… maybe it’ll help?

“Um… you have a bit of coconut on your cheek,” you mumble, internally sighing at the fact that your tone still remained near that of a whisper.

“Oh, thank y—” he halts in raising his free hand to remove it, nearly having forgotten about his painted hands. “______, would you actually mind, again, removing it for me?”

You set the tin down in the empty space of a small wooden table. “S-Sure.” Truly, it doesn’t need much focus to simply reach out and brush the shaving away, but you can’t hold a steady enough hand that you might’ve risked dropping the tray of sweets.

What's with me all of a sudden?! you’d wondered.

For as long as you’ve known him, both you and Albedo held a mutually platonic relationship. Before, it barely teetered on the line of coworkers and friends, you being a simple records clerk for the Knights of Favonius, and him, being their chief alchemist, until you mustered up enough courage to send him a personal gift during one of Mondstadt’s winter holidays; touched by the gesture, he sent you a beautiful landscape painting of his of Dragonspine.

Normally, with how busy you’d always been with the Knights’ affairs, you wouldn’t have bothered to approach him in the first place, but after a short conversation about him with Kaeya, you learned that not being too hasty so as not to startle him - in this case, first sending him a gift as a greeting of sorts - was the smarter move.

It had been almost three years since then. And in those three years, you’d never felt so strangely behaved around him until now.

Damn those chatty women, you mentally curse. It’s all I can think about now! How stupid.

“______?”

You jump, not realizing you had zoned out. “Y-Yes.”

“You were shaking,” Albedo says, the slight drop of his brows almost barely noticeable. “Are you feeling alright? Are you cold?”

“Oh, n-no—” quickly and carefully, you brush away the coconut with a swipe of your thumb. “I’m not cold.”

Albedo goes silent, his eyes suddenly wandering across your face. As naturally as possible, you avert your own, and retake your seat at the edge of the mattress, knowing full well of his curiosity.

How would you even phrase it? It’s personal, isn’t it? Inappropriate? Er, invasive? Not only in regards to the relationship you had as both coworkers and as friends, but just in general— you just don’t really ask people this.

You groan, relenting to his wordless wondering. “… this might be a bit of an… awkward, personal question.”

Albedo has to hide his relief when you finally decide to speak again. He didn’t want to pry, despite that curiosity. You’d looked uncomfortable, after all. Or, “embarrassed” might be a more choice word to use.

“Inquiry is never awkward, ______. It’s an opportunity to learn more. What is it?”

You hold back a bated breath. No, really— it’s an awkward question. Maybe not for you it won’t be, but for me, yes.

“Right… well…” You clear your throat. “Earlier today, when I was speaking to Timaeus to find out where your laboratory was, the people who were behind me started a conversation that… involved your name.”

“I suppose that’s not uncommon, considering where you were.”

“W-While that is true, I assure you that it hadn’t nothing to do with the practices of alchemy.”

Albedo pauses, sparing a glance at you before finally setting the brush down into a somehow non-frozen glass of water. There were many things within the master alchemist’s laboratory that defied reason, this being of the few that genuinely shocks you the most considering how frigid his Dragonspine lab tends to be, even with multiple lanterns and a large fire always going. He turns to the basin of water and dips his hands in, the water quickly turning an off blue shade from the paint, and abandoning the canvas.

“Oh. Then, do tell. I’m rather curious to learn why I came up in their conversation, if not for that alchemy.”

“Ye— oh, boy.” An exhale leaves you sharply, an embarrassing heat suddenly spreading across the back of your neck. “O-Okay. So, you know how you were created as an artificial human, right? Wait, don’t answer that,” you interrupt yourself as he’d gone to speak; “of course, you know. Archons, that was stupid of me— well, i-it’s not common knowledge, naturally, but people have been making up their own theories since, obviously, you don’t age, and so I overheard some of the theories today, like you’re a secret god or a cursed human or a very well-designed, micro-versioned Ruin enemy with sentience, but then the talk about these theories got them to asking more personal, inappropriate-for-public-conversation questions, like—”

“________.” You gasp a little, out of breath from your tangent. “That was a very long sentence. Please, ask me your question before you go unconscious from poor oxygenation.”

You nod, cheeks hot.

“… a-are you able to reproduce?”

Albedo blinks at you. If he’s surprised by your question, he doesn’t show it— in fact, the only change he does show is one of inquisition. Curiosity. As if the thought of siring children had never once been a thought in his five hundred years of existence. Perhaps he could easily assume the answer is “no”, considering his “genetic make up”, for a lack of a more appropriate term— he hadn’t been nicknamed “the chalk prince” for simply his last name, after all.

But then, on the other hand, he retains identical biological functions to humans such as yourself— tear, saliva, and mucus production; urination and defecation; having the ability to bleed— so perhaps it stands to reason that his body contains the same chemical makeup in his ejaculate as any common male, too, no? Maybe, it might even be of a more concentrated design; a textbook definition of “virility”. And while he knows he’s quite capable of this type of fluid production, he’d only allowed himself to venture on that end of science (read: pleasure) once, and through a private venture. It hadn’t exactly been an experiment to perform in front of others, being frank.

Albedo has lost himself to thought, this much is easy for you to tell. His brilliant gemstone-like eyes have lost their shine and had gone out of focus, a hand has raised to hold his chin and ground him. You don’t bother to speak, waiting for him to exit his mind on his own. Eventually, his thoughts begin to spill out and off his tongue, his murmuring quick to join the crackling fire in filling his cliffside laboratory.

“… perhaps I should proceed with a plan to test this theory, though… a long term experiment of nine-plus months is slightly untenable in consideration to my main objective… There are numerous considerations… although… a willing, fertile participant would surely be necessary…” To your surprise, his concentration breaks, his gaze flitting toward and onto you.

You shiver, knowing full well it isn’t from the cold.

“A-And just what is that look for?” you ask, your voice having cracked with concern.

“… nothing in particular,” Albedo says. He has yet to blink, eyes seemingly stuck on you.

“In case you didn’t know, you were speaking out loud again, Albedo— I heard that last bit.”

“Oh. Perhaps I should explain, then,” he says. You instantly pale at his words. “Regarding your question, I can only partially answer it right now. I don’t know whether I am capable of reproduction. When Gold entrusted me with find the “truth and meaning of this world”, for many years, this had become my sole purpose and drive. After that, perhaps I might fully be free to investigate and experiment the rest that life has to offer. I see, however, that this has piqued your interest. In all honesty, I am curious about it, as well.”

“S-So then… what do you plan to do?” you ask, immediately wishing you hadn’t.

“Seeing as I don’t have any other experiments to tend to, I’m currently weighing the pros and cons on my decision to begin this one. The parameters and necessary criteria are relatively straightforward. Quite obviously, it wouldn’t take many, if not zero, tools or supplies. Really, there’s only one other factor necessary for investigation.”

“And that’s that “willing, fertile participant” you mentioned before,” you say, expression and tone both deadpan.

“Exactly.”

“You know, sometimes, you’re a little too honest, Albedo.”

“My apologies,” he says.

“I… didn’t mean it as a bad thing,” you mumble, looking away from him and at the opening to his lab, outside raging a sudden squall that could easily rival the old record in Dragonspine’s storm history. I guess I’ll be staying overnight here, after all. “I’m perfectly used to your honesty by now, considering how long we’ve known each other for.” What great timing. Comedic, even. Ha, ha, ha.

“I suppose so.” A pregnant silence has you shifting in your seat, suddenly favouring you putting your weight onto your hands while the waiting continues. You huff at him. “Based on the simple fact that you and I have been in close relations for as long as we have, _______, I have a proposition.”

You swallow, offering a small nod for him to continue, but before he does, he travels through his laboratory in search of something— a clipboard full of parchment that he brings along on his way back toward you.

“Firstly, am I correct in assuming that your menstrual cycle is regular, and you’re in decent health?”

“Albedo,” you start, tone unintentionally harsh. “Now it’s your turn to get to the point and ask your question.”

“… right, then.. Would you engage in coitus with me— for the sake of this experiment?”

“Archons alive,” you mutter with a shake of your head, “isn’t there some other way for you to figure it out?”

“Nothing so conducive. I’ve already had to eliminate the possibility of collecting a semen sample and examining it beneath the microscope as there’s a probability that the results would end up showing no evidence of impact; the samples may look textbook but may be inert. Even more, I sincerely doubt that the focal strength of the lens would be enough to see the sample’s cellular makeup on such a microscopic level.”

You instantly hate that he has such excusable, sound logic so readily available.

“I suppose I understand why you’re having doubts about committing to something like this. While I’m not privy to your stance on having children, nor can I fully understand the complexities that may stem from making the decision to go through with pregnancy, I can at least empathize from the standpoint of being one of Klee’s guardians— being a parent isn’t easy.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree. “Albedo, i-if we go through with this, and you do end up being able to reproduce, this is exactly what would happen. I would get pregnant. I would become a parent. I really don’t know if I’m ready to take this risk…”

To your surprise, when you sit up on the edge of his bed, you catch his sour expression in your peripheral vision— it’s not one that you see often.

“Are you under the impression that I would toss you aside when the experiment was done?”

You open your mouth to speak, but only single syllable, unintelligible sounds come out. “I—”

“At the very least, I understand what the end result would mean should it be a positive one. You and I would have created a life together.” Your skin prickles, eyes wide and trained on your lap. “It is not a short term commitment. I wouldn’t allow myself to be held any less responsible for that life than you, ______. In this case, I suppose the parameters need to be corrected— not “nine-plus months”… I should allot for two decades, give or take a few more years…”

“T-Two decades,” your fried brain finally allows you to say. He hums, the dejected look on his face slowly morphing into one of fondness.

“It’s strange, but… I find myself eager to get started.”

“I-I… haven’t even said “yes” yet,” you murmur, eyes daring to rise to meet his. Instead, your lips immediately part.

Being the kind of “person” he is, Albedo had been created with multiple human intricacies left behind. Most times, his expression is calm, complacent, untelling— that of a gambler’s dream. There have been few occasions that have drawn out those different, pocketed looks, but you have experienced of him things like anger when his friends and comrades were injured; joy when Klee or the other Mondstadt children are with him, or when he receives your gift of the week; frustration over a failed experiment or an unexpected result; and most recently, disappointment, when you assumed he would abandon you and the child you both might make. And you thought that one would be the most shocking.

But this… What he wears now… is purely desire; a resultant lust having overcome him by the multiple prospects dangling before him like a carrot on a string. Should the experiment be successful, he would learn that he, an artificial being, is capable of procreating with a pure human. Zygote squares dance before his eyes, hypotheticals of traits and genotypes spread across sheets and sheets of parchment— would they be born male or female? Would they look like him or like you? A thought he believes strange crosses his mind— he only hopes that the child would have your eyes.

You know him well enough to figure that he’s going over every possible outcome and theory, always so entranced by them that he would jot them all down later. Now, it seems there’s only one thing stopping him from being able to get to that stage in the experiment. You.

And so, you nod. Albedo’s lips part, relieved.

“I need verbal consent from you to begin this experiment, ______.”

“Yes, then,” you say, your voice trembling. “I give my consent. Let’s… try and make a baby.”

Your attempt at making the situation less stiff and formal somehow seems to work, the skin near Albedo’s eyes suddenly crinkling into a soft, appreciative smile.

“Thank you, ______. If it’s alright, I do have a few more questions for you before we begin.”

“Mm… hm.”

“Are there any physical restrictions I should know about? Present or past injuries that may affect you during intercourse?”

“Um, no, none that I can recall,” you say after a moment of consideration. He jots something onto the clipboard.

“And your last menstrual cycle,” he goes on, “when did it end?”

“I-I—” you blink rapidly, not expecting him to consider such a thing as necessary input, spluttering as you wrack your brain for an answer, “m-maybe… ah… It was… nine days ago, I-I think.”

Albedo nods, writing another set of words down. “Then that’ll put you in the fertile cusp…”

“… f-fertile cusp,” you repeat, watching him intently.

“Yes— from what I remember when I studied cellular anatomy, the first twelve days after the cycle ends is when fertility is at its peak.”

“No, I-I know that, it’s just…” And you can’t stop the small laugh that escapes you. “It’s all so formal and proper. I know it’s for the sake of collecting data for the experiment,” you quickly add, “but having intercourse… having sex… isn’t such a stiff affair.” But then you laugh again, apologizing under your wheezing breaths when you notice the unintentional pun you’d made, somehow made funnier as you know Albedo wouldn’t have caught it, himself.

He ponders your words, though it doesn’t take him long to acknowledge the truth in them. For as unknowledgeable as he is on these human intricacies, the colloquial term of “making love” surely didn’t involve note-taking or detailed inquiries— he’d figured this much. In exchange for you having become a willing participant in this fool’s experiment, you at least deserve a memorable experience.

“Ah, my apologies. You’re right. While I know of the act, engaging in coitus and its technicalities is something I’m unfamiliar with. “Making love”…” Your skin prickles at the sudden change in intonation. “It’s a romantic endeavour, isn’t it. Done between… loving partners.”

Even though it had been the first question to have asked you, he found himself pushing it further down the list, preferring to subject you the other eight questions ahead of it— have you had any other sexual partners recently? Why is it he couldn’t simply say the words?

“It can be, yes,” you say. “Some people have sex rather suddenly, too, and it’s not always between lovers. It’s not always romantic, either, but it deserves passion.”

It’s because you don’t want to know if she’s been involved with anyone else, he realizes, somehow brought to the conclusion without a second thought. Anyone else besides you.

Albedo sets the clipboard down next to the bed. How is it possible to have found yourself at such a conclusion, he wonders. But then he regards his memories, his past thoughts, managing to find your image dancing before his eyes and recall your words ringing in the space between his ears. He remembers the joy stemming from each of the many times you’d come to see him— out of the handful of people he’d bother to get involved with, get to know closely, you were the one whose company he enjoyed the most.

Never forcing himself into uncomfortable social settings, or into the public limelight whenever he achieved a new feat that might’ve deserved to be celebrated; always respecting his desire to keep his number of relationships to a bare minimum, aware of just how exhaustive maintaining them gets for the man— you made knowing you so much easier for him. Those same human emotions he’d have certain trouble in understanding were explained and shown to him just as naturally as it had been to breathe, yet the one bit of you he hadn’t yet seen a side of is love. Adoration. The same kind of fondness he feels deep down in his heart when he looks at you.

Be it for the sake of or borne through the results of this experiment… I’d like to experience it from you, if only once.

Now, standing before you, arms straight down at his sides, the tips of his fingers skim across the ends of his pant legs as if… suddenly shy.

Your eyes quickly dart over to the paper, and despite it being upside down, you can still make out some of the words of the unanswered first question. Realizing that he must’ve intentionally skipped it, you decidedly take one of his cold hands into your yours and force your fingers between his. Gaze lidded, he stares down at them, his thumb rising to rub into the fleshy part of it.

“I haven’t been with anyone else, Albedo,” you whisper, flexing your hand in a gentle squeeze. “You would be my first.” He swallows thickly. “And… I think this is why I’d been nervous to agree to this, but… this is your first time, too, right?”

“Yes,” he says, just as quiet. “It is.”

“Then…” You tug lightly on his hand, and with little resistance, he moves toward you, only a single, clumsy step necessary to find himself between your legs. Startled by the closeness, he raises his other hand to your shoulder to brace himself against you. “I’m glad. If it were anybody else, I don’t think I would have agreed.”

Albedo’s eyes wander, and the hand pressed against your collarbone travels in tandem, sliding to hold you by the underside of your jaw— something he’d seen while in the city of Mondstadt. He thought about it often. “And why is that?” Does it feel nice? He wishes he could read your mind, but it becomes telling in your warm gaze, in your sweet smile, in the way that under his cool touch, he witnesses your flesh turn feverish, made worse only by the thumb that caresses your cheek. You like it. You like him— he thanks the God who heard his wish.

You lean your weight into his palm, eyelashes fluttering. “Kiss me, Albedo. Let me show you why.”

He nods, a stiff gesture. Your warm hands drag him from his frigidity, placed on either side of the smooth porcelain of his face, and into you, your lips parting only far enough from each other that his may fit between them. It is almost a too perfect fit, he notes, even when you’re moving them.

You encourage him to move along with you, chin nudging his lightly enough that he gets the message, and his thin fingers shift to wind almost desperately through your hair, pulling himself closer into you that your chests nearly touch. For a moment, he sways, put off balance by his lilted stance between your thighs, but then you shuffle backwards on his mattress, leaving enough of a space opens that he’s able to kneel on it. You smile against his lips, taking in a soft breath through your nose.

Albedo, as someone who had only ever witnessed a proper kiss once during a walk through Mondstadt, and who had only ever read about them in the few romance novels he’d dared to borrow from Lisa out of pure curiosity, could only follow your lead. Sure, Klee had often given him a few pecks on his cheek here and there as she grew up, but in his almost five hundred years of existence, this had been his first kiss. So gentle, so warm, so plush— oh, your lips are so nice to feel, he thinks, his own cheeks slowly heating up.

A hand leaves him, lamely skirting down the curves in his shoulder and trailing over the heavily adorned end of his sleeve, only to jump to claim his waist by the material of his indigo shirt. Your fingers curl into the fabric, dragging him further onto the bed with you; he relents by swinging his other leg over yours, effectively straddling you.

Albedo feels light-headed. Oh, is the sound he makes when he finally realizes why. I need to breathe. A giggle finally has him pulling back, you, watching as he struggles to catch his breath with a slight smirk on your face.

“If you take smaller breaths through your nose, or, when we stop, you won’t lose your breath as fast,” you quietly explain.

“… I know that,” he murmurs, nudging into your lips with his. “But I don’t want to stop.” Your eyes widen in shock at his bold - for him - admission. “______… teach me how to make love to you.”

Truly, you wouldn’t have expected those words to come from him, not in a million years. It leaves you startled, hot, like one of the dying embers in the cave’s fire brought to life by the fierce wind. You take a moment, pulling your hands away from him to let out a deep, shuddering, embarrassed breath into your palms.

“… w-what makes you think I know much more than you,” you say, quieted and muffled by your own hands.

“I’m simply aware of how vast your capacity to show tenderness and appreciation to others is. That is a form of love, isn’t it?”

“A more innocent kind of love, maybe,” you answer, dropping your hands to rest on his knee. “That part is easy, since it can just come naturally… but this—? I haven’t… I only know a little of what to do…”

“Then, shall we keep learning, together? I’ve read that intercourse can be painful, and I don’t wish for you to experience that discomfort. Will you show me what you know?”

“O-Of course, j-just… don’t expect me to be good at it, okay? I… I’ve only read about these things.”

Gently, his lips press to the corners of yours, making you squirm restlessly beneath him. Naturally, the books you had read had been from Lisa’s personal collection, and were not of the safe-for-work variety. Hardly educational and deeply inappropriate, it certainly left an imprint on your mind’s eye— even more so considering you were about to do some of those things with him.

In steeling yourself, Albedo notes how the look in your eyes have changed. As if you’d remembered something important, “Albedo, switch places with me.”

He nods once, his hands shifting to settle at your waist. With surprising ease and a knee pressed into the mattress once more, he turns, spinning you atop him. You’re easily startled by the motion, grabbing at his shoulders to steady yourself until he settles.

“I think I quite like this,” Albedo admits, once he’d gotten comfortable. “You, sitting on my lap.” You kiss him chastely.

“… it’s one of the best seats I’ve ever sat in, that’s for sure,” you murmur, hands smoothing across the exposed skin on his arms. You pause, suddenly flushed with an embarrassed warmth. “Th-that came out too easily, I—”

“No,” he interrupts you, and the hands holding your sides offer you a gentle squeeze. “I liked that, too.”

A dry chuckle leaves you, but not at his expense— you’re nervous to start what you’d sought to do, your heart beating anxiously beneath your ribcage as you slide a hand back up to his shoulder. Keeping yourself balanced against him, you slip your free hand between the two of you to finally, finally address the obvious, growing bulge settled between his thighs.

Albedo chokes, elbows buckling from where they hold him upright when your palm, curved like a cup, rests against the dense tent of his black shorts.

“_-______, what—”

“If, maybe, you thought I never noticed…” you lean into him, and in pressing your lips to the shell of his ear, “of course, I noticed.” Pride swells in your chest when you feel him suddenly tremble underneath you, his eyes wide.

Your smiling lips find his one last time before you’re sliding off of his lap and onto the floor between his knees. Confused and slightly dazed, Albedo goes to grab your arm and stop you. “______, what are you doing now?”

“… do you trust me?” you ask, rather than providing him with an explanation.

“Of course I do, but—””Then,” you carefully pry his fingers away from your arm and set it back in his lap, “let me try something. Work with me, okay?”

After a moment’s hesitation, he finally relents in the form of a nod, and it takes but one more steeling breath for you to commit.

Once more, your hands slide up his torso, creeping along his chest until reaching the golden belt slung over his shoulder. After a minute of trying to figure out how to unlatch it, you sigh defeatedly. “Albedo…”

“You should’ve just asked in the first place,” he tuts, staring down at you through lidded eyes.

“I didn’t think a belt could be so complicated— what is it even for?” you rhetorically add in a murmur.

“It pins my coat shut,” he still replies. You refrain from making eye contact when he finally undoes the pin from the backside of the belt, and with a click, the two pieces around the flap of white fabric from his coat separate, slipping over Albedo’s shoulders and landing on the ruffled blanket behind him. “There.”

“Good. Now, take your coat off.” He complies, shrugging it off of his shoulders and letting it slip down his arms. Your hands lift from your lap and skirt across his, trailing up his clothed thighs and up his waist, and tucking beneath the hem of his indigo shirt to take the zipper of his shorts between two trembling fingers. “…a-and lift your hips up,” you mumble, upon pulling it down and unclasping its neighbouring button.

“Okay.” You’re quick to drag them away from his hips when his ass rises off of the bed, the clinking of his metal accessories jingling when they hit the floor before you. Your jaw falls open— with your eyes trained lower than where his knees sat parallel to the mattress, you hadn’t at all notice that you’d pulled down more than just his shorts. “______…”

“I-I didn’t mean to move that fast,” you swear, eyes wide and struggling to stay on his. He looks at you, waiting for your next move with his teeth pinching the inside of his cheek. “But, um…” You dare to glance down, and sigh. “… there really isn’t a point to me being nervous anymore. It’s… You… are right in front of me now.”

“That’s right,” Albedo says. You have to hide your surprise when he leans forward to touch your cheek with his cold, gloved fingertips; a supporting gesture, one with his own brand and level of comfort that he could muster. “You have me right here in front of you.”

Somehow, you find yourself being grateful in the silliest of ways, unable to help the way your mind takes you to the time of Albedo’s creation. Proportionate in every beautifully normal way, from the length of his torso to the expanse of each of his creamy white thighs; from the average length of his cock and its surprisingly wide girth, to how its head seemed to glow with rouge and how his balls hung before you in near perfect spheres— you almost ask him to undress the rest of himself, but as your gaze traveled even further downward to where his knee-high black boots both end and begin, squeezing the flesh of those same thighs you’d begun to adore, you stop yourself.

No, these should definitely stay on.

“You asked me to show you what I know, right?” Albedo blinks down at you, where your eyes rest on his twitching shaft almost too intently. You wet your lips, and finally wrap your warm fingers around his base; he flinches. “Then… what I know is that… supposedly… men really like this part,” you murmur against him, lips then pursing atop his blooming head.

Albedo involuntarily hisses, a hand rising to rest on the crown of his head in disbelief while the other fruitlessly clutches at the sheets beneath him. Having hoped to catch him off guard, you’d poked your tongue out and aimed it at the small slit in the centre, succeeding when his hips leap upward under your soft strokes.

“I-I’m beginning to understand… w-why — ahh…”

It tastes a little salty, you note. Gently, you curl your tongue beneath the head of his cock, and run it along its soft ridge, eliciting the softest of moans from the man sitting above you. In the corner of your eye, you watch his eyes flutter as the pleasure registers and his hands search for a new place to anchor themselves.

“You can touch me, too, Albedo,” you tell him, dropping your head a little lower to flatten your tongue against the base of his shaft. You drag up, sure to collect the small vein pulsing at his underside as you make your way to the top again, “I don’t bite, after all,” before collecting him into your mouth as far as it would let you, your mouth immediately hollowing around him following your words.

You smooth out your tongue beneath him as your cheeks puff out before contracting, a torturous set of suctioning squeezes that has Albedo squirming in place. You shift your hands to rest atop his thighs, only pressing down whenever he bucks just a little too much for you keep up with.

You draw back only slightly, the underside of his cockhead having quickly become the new target of your ministrations. Albedo’s hips roll, an automatic reaction he decided he didn’t care that he had no control over— your lips, your tongue, the heat of your mouth, the hot breaths you let out over his aching erection, oh— he wanted more of it.

Few things exist in this world that he desired as achingly so, if only the positive results of an experiment that led him closer to Gold’s expectations of him and the well-being of his friends. In the now, he simply desired you.

Albedo gasps, and as if on instinct, he lurches forward to hunch over you, almost throwing himself off of the edge of the mattress, and wind his fingers through your hair from behind. “-_____!!” For a moment, you panic, your hands flying up to brace yourself between his thighs, not having expected such a knee-jerk reaction from the alchemist that had him hitting the back of your throat. “Hngh!!”

As deeply as possible, you inhale around him, though very little air passes into your lungs. You shift higher onto your knees, your hands tapping against Albedo’s thighs in alarm the longer your throat remains constricted by his cock. But his head is thrown back, lips parted in pure awe and relishing at how tightly you’re able to wind around him, and how fast the strange burning sensation he’d only felt that one time before in his long life creeps up on him—!

Before he can warn you, and before he can even register what was about to happen, Albedo comes, his hot seed spurting heavily down the back of your throat. His groans are deep, filled with a vibrato that would almost tickle if not for the immense pressure. Lost in his pleasure, it takes him a moment to register that the strange flapping on his legs had been you, pleading for him to release your hair.

His hands fly up from you instantly, his groan sharp when you pull off of and away from him, swallowing thickly. “-_____—” your attempt at a proper first breath has you coughing a little, massaging your throat from the outside as if it would soothe what had just been done to the inside. “A… Are you alright? I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to…. do that.”

But you’re shaking your head, hand raised to wave him down.

“It’s… not your fault,” you tell him, your voice testing. “Honestly,” and you spare a chuckle, “that just meant I was doing something right.” Albedo frowns in his own confusion.

“Your pain was… a good thing?” he asks. “That’s slightly illogical.”

“I meant before that part. Your reaction… It felt good in my mouth, didn’t it? It must have… considering how quickly you came.” Hesitant, his concern for you still ever present in his expression, he nods. “I promise I’m okay, Albedo. But… we should keep going, hm?”

Albedo watches you, still knelt between him, his thoughts racing and unpinnable, most of them plaguing him with the guilt that he’s hurt you— but you only smile, your eyes squinted, and the tears collected along them threatening to spill. He enjoys it when you smile.

“Before,” he starts, his tone hopeful in his brand of emotion, “you said I can touch you.” You nod, your chest heaving with your breaths. “Does that permission still stand?”

“Wh— Y-Yes, of course, it does,” you answer, eyebrow raised in confusion. Albedo smooths his hand across your cheek, his thumb running along the soft skin beneath your one eye to clear away the bit of tears that finally fell.

“Then, I’d like to try touching you to get a similar reaction out of you,” he explains. “I’d like to make you feel as good as I just was.”

Lips parted, you consider his request. While a part of you desired nothing more than for him to reciprocate what you had just done to him, it’s difficult for you to attempt to escape the embarrassment it would bring you. Whether he would’ve been knelt before you, pushing your thighs apart whenever they might go to squeeze his head between them, or if he’d pull you to sit above his face, hold you in place, and—

No, no, no-no-no— either of those things are just too much to get him to do for his first time! you think, trying desperately to cast the details of Lisa’s personal collection out of your head to no avail. If your desire wasn’t showing before, it certainly should be now. So… i-if he wants to do this, if he’s really serious about it…

“… please, then, ‘bedo,” you murmur, leaning just a little deeper into his gloved palm. “Please touch me.”

Over and over, Albedo has managed to surprise you, though more than anything, it had been his astute eagerness that has thrown you for a loop. Despite his usual claims of lacking most human emotions, he seems to have no trouble displaying lust before you. Whether it’s expressed in regards to the promise of achieving positive results, or, as the potentially deluded area of your brain suggests, in regards to him harbouring a positive emotion, one aimed toward you, you weren’t privy.

This time, the surprise comes from him when he gently pulls you up onto your feet, him now standing with you, and spinning you on the spot to take his former place on the bed. You blink, slightly dizzied by the motion, and make to press your palms down flat to steady yourself, when Albedo leans into you, one of his own hands coming to rest next to yours. The other, however—

“Lift your hips up, ______,” he says, his thumb pressing forward to shove the button above the zipper to your trousers out through the hole, “and take off your jacket.”

You nod, swallow the lump in your sore throat, and shift your weight onto your hands that allows him to slide your thick, woollen tights down to your ankles, all in a single moment. Unlike you, however, he’s left your undergarment sitting askew around your hips— somehow, you manage to dub this even more embarrassing than if you were left half nude.

“I’m still right here in front of you,” he reminds you, once more leaning forward into your space, chin tilted toward his chest. You straighten your back, enough so that you’re able to meet his lips, and he gratefully obliges you, his own eyes shuttering closed upon contact. You part from him, grinning softly.

Albedo’s lips part to allow the tip of his glove’s middlemost finger to become pinched between his teeth— he pulls away, the dual-coloured leather falling against his chin before he discards it to the cave behind him, and reaches down between you. You catch his hesitation and decidedly remain silent until he finally moves, a curious hand coming to rest just above your pubic bone. Your breath barely hitches when his fingers curl to dig beneath the elastic banding on your underwear, only to pause with a single pad resting only an inch away from—

“I believe I asked you to remove your jacket,” he murmurs, eyes trained to where his hand waits.

“I— oh, I, o-okay, right…” Careful not to bump him, you begin shimmying out of your moisture-wicking sweater, tugging your arms and head from the holes, and tossing it behind Albedo, leaving you sitting in a half-as-thin turtleneck.

“Good. I’m going to begin now.”

You barely get a nod out when he’s already pressed down atop the flesh above your clit, your body jerking forward at the sudden burn of pleasure. In favour of helping Albedo chase his own release, you woefully chose to neglect the potential of your own, but this didn’t mean it hadn’t been sitting idle up until now, waiting for him to do something about it.

In all your time of knowing the man, you never would have thought you would see him make such an erotic expression, and having been blessed to, you still haven’t recovered from it. Brows knitted and eyes squeezed shut, teeth pinching his bottom lip through his failed self-restraint; you’d never seen a rosier red before than on those smooth porcelain cheeks of his— it sent waves of warmth to pool in your gut, a blindsiding strike against you as you became forced to wait your turn.

“From what I recall from my anatomy studies, the clitoris has over ten thousand nerve endings, so in a state of arousal…” He swirls his finger against it again and you jolt, your own hand rising from the bed to clutch at his wrist. “… the effect becomes heightened when it is physically stimulated.” His eyes flit up to watch your reaction when he moves lower, the tip of his soft digit catching under its hood; your trembling lips have parted, and your eyes are barely open to see him. You only feel when two of his fingers have dipped into you— your wide eyes snap up to him, cheeks flushed at the sudden squelch. “I see you didn’t even need physical stimulation for this— you’re quite wet, ______.”

Your grip on his wrist is shaky when it tightens; another indication of your arousal, Albedo notes. He doesn’t move his fingers as you had expected him to — they solicit themselves before your entrance, swimming in the slick that has gathered there, his reach managing to stretch far enough that it nudges your throbbing clit — and your mind immediately equates the emptiness within you to torture when you begin clenching around nothing.

“I-I don’t know if you’re teasing me on purpose, Albedo,” you start, your nails suddenly biting into the flesh of his hand, “but I’m begging you to stop.”

Your ears ring a little when the softest of chuckles fill them; you shoot a glare up at the alchemist. “No adverse effects to your cognition. If tempered, a high percentage persists, even under that same duress—” You whack his arm, at least hard enough that even he would feel it. “Ouch.”

“This isn’t a live anatomy study,” you joke at him, though the same bite you threw at him along with your knuckles are present in your tone. Albedo blinks, before his lips spread into a thin, almost apologetic, line.

“A habit,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’ll try to be more conscious of it.”

“J-Just… be less embarrassing about it,” you plead, turning your head away.

“Hm? Why is it embarrassing?” Albedo straightens, his back holding him upright instead of his other hand— he pinches your chin between two fingers, and turns you back toward him. “Sexual intercourse is an embodiment of what it means to be human, no? Without procreation, life would end.”

“Y-Yes, that’s all true, but… it’s not why I’m embarrassed. I-It’s not even you getting all technical while your fingers are—” as if cued, they slip into you once more, a gasp fleeing your wide open mouth in shock. “A-Albedo!?”

“So, is it me that you’re embarrassed over?” You wince, his fingers curling upwards as if searching. “Is it what I’m doing to you that’s made your body so warm?” His wrist turns, his other knuckles catching on your clit again and making you lurch into him. “Is it that my hand is so deep in your heat that’s making you look at me with such delirium?”

Your body spasms; you huff at him when he draws back.

“W… what are you even saying,” you pant, your hold on him faltering.

“I am only curious as to why you’ve been staring at me with such blatant adoration. I don’t believe I’ve done anything out of the ordinary to deserve it, and yet…” His own eyes move to meet yours. “I find myself enjoying having your attention on me.”

You could’ve quite literally melted on the spot, if not for the bitter chill filling the cave.

Albedo shifts before you, and seats himself to your right, his sole gloved hand curling around the underneath of your one knee to be thrown over his lap, the other remaining behind to slide up toward your hip. His fingers tug at the elastic of your underwear, collecting them around a knuckle and drawing them down your raised hips to your ankles, the wrinkled fabric pooling around the toes of your left foot.

“Keep your eyes on me, ______,” he says, barely audible. “Watch closely.”

You manage to amaze yourself at just how wet you’d truly become by his hand, the cloth surrounding your cunt and the blistering winds of the squall offering enough muffling that you hadn’t heard the squelching, and only felt it. You didn’t think it could get more embarrassing, but now, the sounds were out in the open, the progressively more intense smacks from his palm hitting resounding before you and belting between the stone walls. But you keep your eyes on him still, just as he’d asked you to, and let the heat continue to bloom.

His attention on you is somehow daunting— bottom lip caught between pearl-white teeth and brows furrowed; usually bright eyes darkened in his focus, occasionally flitting up to see the kind of expression you wear with each new ministration.

You shudder beneath him when the smooth skin of his thumb presses against your clit again, his fingers still curling and stirring your warm insides. An eyebrow raises, pleased by your reaction— Albedo rolls the pad of his finger against you in the hopes that you keep squirming beneath him, that your soft and barely controlled moans keep escaping you, all for him, all from him. Somehow it’s everything and not enough for you, though it shows when you roll your hips toward him and against his wetted wrist.

“I-It’s… how… can you can be… so… calm through this…!?” You pant, your fingers tightening at the breast of his shirt. Shivering beneath his languid touch, Albedo lets you keen against his smooth hand in a slow grind, his three middle fingers carefully pumping in and out of you, each draw pulling back more and more of your slick.

Eyes blown wide, Albedo takes his free hand and guides your lips back to his, tongue unhesitant in pushing past your gritted teeth to find your tongue. A moan escapes you when they curl together, your thighs instinctively trying to press together to curb the heat that starts pulsing between them. Albedo pushes them back open, eyes lazily shifting to the side in time to watch you begin to shake.

“Calm?” he repeats, having pulled away, and with a single stroke, you seize, both hands jumping to grasp at his wrist in an attempt to steady yourself through your first orgasm. “With you?” He presses his lips to the side of your head, a soft groan escaping him the tighter you manage to clench around his digits. “I’m not calm at all with you. Especially as you are now.”

“A-Al… bedo,” you whine, clutching at his shirt like a vice, nails barely digging through the fabric to reach him, but where you touch burns, only spurring him on to keep you sobbing until you reach the end of your high.

“Your voice is very pleasant when you orgasm, ______.” You seethe a harsh breath through your teeth when he retracts his fingers, and as if through a fogged lens, Albedo stares at his pale fingers coated in your release, watching it glisten under the glow of the fire as he turns them. “Hm.”

“… Albedo?” you call, voice hoarse but questioning.

“The viscosity is almost slime-like,” he notes— of course, he would, you think, biting back a chuckle. But then he does the unimaginable, though in his case, you’re surprised at yourself for not have expecting it— he tastes it, tastes you, his tongue poking out to lick up from his knuckle to the tip of his index.

“A-Albedo—””The hydrogen potential is rather acidic,” he goes on, completely disregarding your huff of impatience at being cut off, “but it’s more mild than I expected. It seems there isn’t enough here to collect as a proper sample, however. Before we continue, I’d like to—”

“A-Another time!” you half-heartedly promise, knowing exactly what he’d been about to ask you. Genuinely hoping he won’t actually hold you to your word, “P-Please, Albedo— I’m already exhausted from the trip here, and after all of this, I-I don’t know if I’ll last until the end if you were to do all of that again…”

“Oh. Was it that enjoyable?” he asks, and to your disbelief, he licks the rest of his fingers off before curving his head to better meet your gaze. Instantly, you’re scowling at his knowing glance. “Very well, then; I don’t mind postponing that until “another time”.”

You wheeze tiredly.

With a hand resting against your lower back, he places his other against your sternum and gently pushes you backwards and down into his mattress. Slipping his leg out from under you, he then straddles your one thigh and carefully lifts your other out in front of him. You instinctively flinch, your gaze quick to travel down to where Albedo’s erection sits atop your skin. As if testing, he shifts his hips forward, and drags his dick along your leg.

You barely catch the soft, wounded breath that passes through his parted lips, eyes squeezed shut once more as he ruts himself along you. Your own breathing is weak, both heart and mind stupefied by the scene before you— you can’t help yourself from reaching for him, for it, and cup your hand over its pretty curve.

Albedo gasps, instinctively reaching to steady himself against the bed when your thumb starts rubbing along his blushing cockhead.

“Albedo,” you call to him, voice thick with a sudden want the alchemist hadn’t been prepared to hear. “Albedo, please… I’m ready for you. I want you.”

In turn, you hadn’t been prepared for his eagerness— the way he helps you scooch further back on the mattress, and how easily he’d seemed to fit himself in between your warmed thighs; how sweetly he stares down at you, his pale pink lips curving into the slightest of smiles when you start uncontrollably grinning at him, and how soothing and gentle his touch is when he runs his cool hands along the burning flesh beneath your turtleneck. You shudder in your anticipation, a strong pulse beating from the center of your abdomen just wildly enough for him to feel it when his palm rests atop it. He maneuvers his knees beneath you, and in pressing his hips to meet your pelvis, his own arousal finally nudges into yours, the both of you flinching with a desperate keen.

A single hand comes down to rest on the bare skin of your midriff, hidden beneath your shirt, the other curled around the base of his erection to poise himself before you. “T-Then… I’ll deny you no longer.”

A strangled hiss passes through clenched teeth as Albedo rocks his hips forward, the head of his cock gently fitting just past your folds. You can’t help the shocked gasp that flees your parted lips; you take up the bedding in an iron grip to brace yourself as his own tightens around your hip, him pushing past each ring of muscle with a heavy breath and the smallest of grunts— he’s hot, and incredibly hard, and it sends a rippling ache through your core the longer he takes in fully sheathing himself within you, through no fault of his own. Your nerves have made you tense and tighten up, made you tremble around his throbbing girth so intensely that he’s forced to take pause with a choked breath—

“S-Sorry!” you gasp out, blinking rapidly between him and the ceiling. “S-Sorry, Albedo, I-I just—!”

“I know,” he interrupts, voice slightly haggard. “T-Take a moment. Breathe, ______.” You nod, likely too many times than necessary. “Does it hurt?”

“… y-yes, but…” You sniffle. “There’s pleasure with it, too. For my first time, i-it’s to be expected…” The alchemist stares down at you, unsure of his next move, but then you raise your shaky arms from your side to reach for him, hands taking the cool skin of his cheeks into your palms. “I-I need a distraction,” you murmur. “Kiss me, Albedo, a-at the same time.”

“… alright.”

Albedo lets you pull him down toward you, slowly so as not to hurt him, as well, allowing him to shift around you and reposition himself. At the last second, he leans forward out of your hands to claim your expectant lips on his own, immediately parting them with his tongue. The gesture had sent a rush of heat through you, miraculously allowing Albedo to thrust his hips into yours just a little more. Your moan is sharp into his open mouth, a whine more than anything else, and your shuddering has your legs threatening to either give out beneath him or curl around his slim waist— he notices this, and instead denies you from choosing on your own when he lets himself tip forward until fully sheathed, swallowing both your tongue and your voice when you cry out past his lips.

I-It hurts, you can only exclaim in your thoughts, your entire body lit up like an Inazuman firework when your legs kick out behind him— it hurts.

Willing yourself to focus on anything but where the pain pulses most, you search around the cave once more, chest heaving from a lack of air, mindlessly identifying the many small objects scattered about the laboratory— flasks and beakers, pencils of various lengths, jars of full and half-empty oil paints of all shades, piles upon piles of paper weighed down by miscellaneous paper weights— “______?”

You tear your gaze away from the inactive air gas burner sitting on the furthest table, and force it to meet that of the man’s lying above you. “H-Hm?”

“Are you alright?” Albedo asks. In the corner of your eye, you spot his one arm beginning to tremble. “You went quiet.” Shakily, you lift your arm to support it by his elbow; he spares it a glance before looking to you again. “______?”

“I-I’m… I’m okay,” you say before sighing, knowing you sound unconvincing. “Are you?” He hesitates in answering.

“… a human’s internal temperature is normally around thirty-seven degrees, but s-somehow—” Albedo exhales, and through squinted eyes of your own, you see one of his twitch in his struggle to adjust “— it feels much hotter i-inside you…” Despite your best effort not to, you laugh, your free hand rising quickly to try and cover it up, but it flies loose; somehow, Albedo finds himself displeased with your reaction. “______…”

“I-I’m sorry, I-I just wasn’t expecting that kind of answer, though maybe I should have…” You reach up to hold his face in your hand. “But you’re okay? You aren’t hurt at all, right? I know it’s a little… t-tight.”

“All the more reason why if either of us should be more in pain, it’s you,” he tries to reason, but you shake your head.

“I just… needed a moment to get used to you,” you tell him in earnest, “and I think laughing helped. You’re bigger than your fingers, after all.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he immediately says.

“It’s only n-natural that it would hurt a little— d-don’t worry, okay?” He nods, albeit reservedly. “C… Can you try moving now?”

“If you’re sure?” And you nod back, your hand still wrapped around his arm providing a squeeze of encouragement.

“Please.” With a nod, he gently forces his hips from yours before thrusting back into you. Your grip on his forearm falters, dropping in favour of holding his wrists, instead.

While he knows a human’s autonomic functions obviously accounted for it, Albedo still found it amazing how easily you’d seemed to swallow him back up. Maybe it had been your laughter— you just needed a moment to loosen up, and not just physically. Despite everything that had already happened, you’d still been in disbelief that it did happen in the first place, and with Mondstadt’s chief alchemist; your dear friend.

Your own hips shift, your joints twisting to give rise for your thighs to press against Albedo’s sides. Albedo groans softly, soft hands moving to curl his arms around them and pulling you even tighter against his pelvis. You jolt, a strange sensation suddenly blossoming where his cockhead presses upwards— you just knew that curve of his would mean some kind of trouble for you.

“… oh?” Looking away from his strained expression, you find him focused on your lower abdomen, where he decidedly places his hands over. He presses down around it, your soft flesh pooling beneath his thin fingers.

The smallest of gasps escapes him when he readjusts his stance to the edge of his mattress to push back into you, only for the imprint of his cock to, once again, reappear beneath your skin. He pauses to look to you, and though you look unharmed, you’ve bitten down so intently on your knuckles, your nose scrunched and eyebrows bunched toward each other, in an attempt to suppress the sounds threatening to leak from you.

“______,” Albedo calls. When your only reply is a weary glance and an overwhelmed huff, he leans over you, his hands taking yours from over your mouth to pin them at either side of your head against the mattress. But the movement hilts him deeper inside you, tearing a whine from your throat and sending a shiver through your body. “… are you alright?”

“I-I—” Albedo rolls his hips ever so slightly. “’m f-fine… It… jus’ feels… hngh… g-good.”

“I’m glad,” he pants, shoving his fingers between yours and pressing them further into the duvet. “I was worried you were in pain.” Drawing his hips back, he slowly drives back in, lips parted and jaw hung when the immense sensation of your engulfing warmth overtakes him.

“N-no pain,” you promise, giving his hands a light squeeze each and him, a curdling smile. “Y-You can… m-move faster, Albedo...”

“If you’re sure, then,” he murmurs.

He drops onto his elbows, hands still claiming yours and his lips only inches away from each other— it doesn’t take him long to decide to claim them, either, pressing into you and prying your willing mouth open with his tongue. You don’t try to contain the moan he bullies out of you when he begins sucking at your tongue, in the same moment he draws back once more and thrusts into you as if sheathing his sword. Your body tenses, eyes flying open when you feel the head of his cock reach the deepest part of you—oh, this part hurts, you think, squeezing his hands just a little harder, and once more, he stops, turquoise eyes joining yours in a panic.

“That hurt this time, didn’t it,” he says, eyebrows turned down in concern.

You nod a little, and take a deep breath in an attempt to slow down your pounding heart. “Y-Yes,” you say. “You just went a l-little too deep…”

“I’m sorry,” he immediately says. He lowers his head to rest his cheek against yours, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear when he kisses the side of your head, “I won’t make that mistake again.”

You whimper in response, and nod probably more times than you’d meant to. It takes a moment for the initial shock and discomfort to fade, but then you’re nodding again, this time, in encouragement. Albedo takes your words into account, supposing that he just might’ve underestimated his own length in contrast with your depth… He’s hesitant to move again, though he knows it comes down to the amount of self-restraint he can muster, wanting nothing more than to continue with you.

Albedo startles when you take matters into your own hands and roll your hips up, slowly sliding yourself up and down his length with your features still verily pinched, though certainly, they’re steadily masked by that same pleasure you’d mentioned feeling earlier; no longer a stranger to the sensation himself, he dares to thrust his hips once more, a little more controlled, yet with his expected inexperience; jerkish.

It doesn’t hurt you anymore, you realize when one of his strokes manages to pull a shaky moan out of you. No longer are your breaths coated with your discomfort; Albedo finally found a rhythm that kept him steady and you, painless— one that only draws out more and more of your whines and whimpers and his heavy breaths to be pressed into each other’s skin; one that has your arms wrapped around each other like vices while he continues rutting into you, your fingers digging into the flesh over his shoulder blades to ground yourself atop the creaking bed—

“Can… can we move?” Albedo suddenly asks in separate, laboured breaths, his arms uncurling from around you.

“M… ove?” you repeat, your head too occupied by him to register what he means— “We’re… already moving,” you jokingly manage to conjure. But you relent. “… ’kay.”

Huffing, Albedo slides his arms beneath your shoulders and sits you upright over his thighs. The non-exhausted part of you is startled when he rises onto his knees to crawl closer to the wall the length of the bed touches, finally sitting back down with his back now leaning against it. Still having been connected with you when he unfolds his legs to shove them beneath your ass in the other direction, the jostling finally tears a long groan out from you when he manages to nudge something especially sensitive within you. Albedo sighs deeply, his hands coming to rest at your hips to ground himself when you clench around him.

“Hold onto me, ______,” he instructs, giving you a gentle squeeze. Your limp arms give rise to wrap around Albedo’s shoulders, holding him tighter to you and burying your face into the crook of his neck. You press your lips against his porcelain skin, leaving slight nips behind until you feel him shiver, and his hands drop under you to lift you off the mattress.

A strangled cry spews up from your throat when he sheathes himself into you again, burrowing itself beneath Albedo’s ear and strangely sending a shiver down his spine— he’s already said it before, but he tells you once more just how beautiful you sound when you peak; tells you how good it feels when you squeeze and keep him trapped inside of you.

Golden strands slip through each of your trembling fingers when you run them through his loose hair, having untied the band around it, and Albedo groans almost appreciatively from the sensation of them skimming across his scalp. Your balance in your knees is barely there, and your thighs are just strong enough to remain lifted off Albedo’s lap while he bucks up into you, but you’re gasping, the world suddenly turned on its axis when he spins you back onto the mattress, empty.

Dizzied, you look to him, meet his half-lidded, glossed over turquoise gaze, and swallow thickly when he hovers over you, his tip carelessly twitching against your pelvis. Is he… trying to hold himself back? you wonder, watching his lower lip become bullied by his upper teeth biting into them. With hot, trembling fingers, you guide him back inside you before reaching up between his arms and cradling his face in your hands, pulling him down to meet your lips. You swallow his heavy breaths until they turn into moans, hips driving into you, unrelenting, and only then do you part from him.

“P… please,” you beg, thumbs sweeping across his warm cheeks. “Please don’t hold back from me.”

“… b-but you… you’ve gotten so… so t-tight—” he chokes on his words. “… s-something… something is — hahh… I-I don’t wan… want to finish so… fast…!”

A sudden tension twists through your gut like a fire had been ignited there; you stretch your arm out across the messy sheets, small gasps escaping you with each of his thrusts, reaching for any semblance of stability along the thick duvet of his bed. His movement is fast, a hand suddenly darting out to pin your hand down before you.

“I-It’s okay,” you call out, your voice turning an octave higher than normal when he anchors himself deeper into you with a single, sharp thrust. “… I-I’m there, t-too!” You pant through gritted teeth, sucking in little air as you try to orient yourself— “I wanna hear you, ‘bedo,” you gasp out at him, “you sound so… beautiful…! I wanna hear you when you… c-come…! haah…!!”

He gasps again when you’ve suddenly tightened around him, his erratic pistoning into your wet cunt slowed by your own incoming high.

“Really?” he bites out, brows furrowed in concentration. Your nods are frantic, your hips rising to meet his with each of his thrusts, hips battering into yours almost painfully. “T-Together, then?” he groans, and allows you to further wind yourself around him, arms curling around his back, legs hooking around his waist, cunt fluttering and pulsating almost cruelly until the tears of pleasure formed along your eyelids finally spill over and roll down your cheeks when you finally peak.

“I’m… c-coming… hngh!!”

“C-Coming!” Albedo cries out through his teeth and into your shoulder, fingers forcing yours deeper into the blanket, hips stuttering sharply into yours for a last time as euphoria claims him. “______!” He finally goes still, relishing in the relief the snapping coil in his gut brings him when he spills inside you. You wince through your own gracious release, the head of his pulsating dick rutting lightly against your cervix with each of his tremors and jerks— Archons, it’s so h-hot! you mentally whine, eyes squeezed shut and arms wrapped tight around his back, holding him ever closer to you.

He had never experienced such a strong release of emotion as intense as he just did. It’s startling to him, maddening, that he’d never bothered to seek out such a feeling after that first time all those years ago— but now that he’s gone ahead and done such a thing with you? It stopped being an experiment to him long ago.

“______, I…” Albedo pants against your fast-rising chest, your heart beating too quickly for your own breathing to keep up, and presses his lips to it. “That felt wonderful…” Your arms, weighty from your exhaustion, slip from behind him until your elbows hit the mattress beneath you, only the tips of your trembling fingers deigning to remain behind to drag across his ribcage.

Delirious and still swimming in what pleasure remained from your shared release, you give a jerky nod of agreement, and turn your head ever so slightly to him to press your own lips against his hairline. The softest of laughs hits his ears, a sound that might’ve gone unheard under the howling winds outside the laboratory, but the existence of the five senses and your presence meant his hypersensitivity exists only for you right now— it’s loud and clear enough and he relishes in the fact that he’d been the first to hear it in such a circumstance.

A small part of him can’t help but wonder what Gold would say if she saw him neglecting her final task; if she saw him laying here with you. “Show me the truth and the meaning of this world”— he’d yet to even create a footing deep enough in preparation for the assignment. Simple hypotheses existed tucked between leather bindings and were only disturbed on relevant occasions. Should another note be added inside those bindings after today? His chin tilts your way as he ponders this, cheek smushed against your bicep while you struggle to catch your breath.

“… ‘bedo…” Pulling himself onto his forearms, he watches your throat bob when you swallow in your contemplation. “… in keeping this experiment honest, I… I think I need to tell you that… it’s going to be hard for me to call this… just that. An “experiment”.”

He hums, a wordless urging for you to keep speaking. For a moment, your eyes keep on searching the ceiling above you, half-lidded but bright, trying to pick your next words out carefully.

“I… I think I’ve tried not to acknowledge it all this time… and those women today got me to thinking about much more than whether or not you’re… fertile. Our relationship as coworkers, as friends— have they been the only kinds, all this time? I’m well aware that me cooking and baking for you and my doting on you whenever you’re in the city has far extended past my duties as the Knights of Favonius’s Records Keeper. And, at least in my eyes, it tiptoed the line keeping me from seeing you as just my friend. I just didn’t wish to acknowledge it.”

“… may I ask why?” he murmurs.

“Either… it was because I knew I’d be embarrassed if my feelings and emotions for you weren’t able to be reciprocated. That it would likely change our dynamic. I wasn’t prepared… to experience that distance from you if that was the result.”

Albedo agrees wordlessly, when his gaze falls from yours.

How should he even begin to articulate what his thoughts and logic are telling him to say to you? Through all his years awake and existing in Teyvat, he’s never had to bother with or confront his emotions— other than pure investigative curiosity or wholesome fascination, before coming to Mondstadt, he never experienced the warmth that those who would grow close to him would feel. The love and appreciation from Klee for taking care of her as her “big brother”; the camaraderie shared by Kaeya and the other Knights he’s associated with; even the admittedly strange kinship he once shared with Gold before abandoning him to his own devices— and then, despite swearing himself to his reclusiveness to Dragonspine, his visits to his Mondstadt laboratory would have him encounter you.

In being as work oriented as you are, you still often found yourself frequenting his laboratory to deliver field reports from those same Knights, and in knowing his more reserved nature, you respected it, discreetly leaving small gifts of thanks on behalf of yourself and the others; treats, should he “fancy a snack break?”; offering to run errands for him and his assistants in your downtime— if not for you making the decision to appear before him, he likely wouldn’t have bothered to ever make conversation with you. Most of his other relationships within the Knights of Favonius had always been strictly work ones, which he had been satisfied with.

The two of you hadn’t bothered to separate, in all definitions of the word, keeping his seed plugged inside of you with his flaccid cock. Holding onto you, he rolls, pulling the bedding up from under him to pull over you— he’d seen you had begun to shiver. Seeing the appreciative smile you’d put on for such a simple gesture that needed no thanks, Albedo finds he’s thanking himself for not deciding to keep his distance, after all.

“Maybe in the beginning, this would’ve been the case,” he admits. You nod, as if you were expecting this response. “In the months you first imposed yourself in my life, I had been content on holding the same distance I did as with the others, with you. You made it… complicated, I’ll say, to want to hold that distance any longer when you made it quite easy to be around you.”

“I-I knew it sometimes made you uncomfortable to have to be around a lot of people at once,” you murmur, turning onto your right to see him. “I offered to Grand Master Jean to liaison for you and your team while you were all within headquarters and if I wasn’t busy… though, it was really so I could see you more… even if it’d been from a distance…”

The corner of Albedo’s mouth twitches. “I still have that first gift of yours.”

A bashful grin slowly replaces your attempt at a poker face. “I’d hung that painting you gave to me in return above my bed, you know. It… sounds very silly to say out loud, but… when I found myself missing you, I put it there in the hopes that I’d see you in my dreams during the times you were away.”

“It’s illogical, but no. It’s a… sweet gesture. Not silly at all.”

Your cheeks instantly grow warm. “I’m… relieved to hear you say that.”

It takes a while for you to warm yourself up again — as if sensing your sensitive state, Dragonspine saw to it to up the ante on the blizzard — before the two of you can clean yourselves up.

To say the process isn’t as embarrassing as everything else that had transpired would be a lie; feeling and seeing Albedo’s cum drip out of you — and onto a damned sample dish, by his request — had been mortifying. What you hadn’t expected, however, was that after he’d collected his sample, he’d sat you down on the edge of the mattress once more, rags and a newly warmed basin of water at his side to tend to you. And while he did, to distract yourself, you’d found your eyes stuck over on his incomplete painting and the supplies littered on the small table next to its easel.

Now, as the two of you lie facing the ceiling of the cliffside laboratory, you suddenly giggle, prompting Albedo to turn toward you.

“What is it?” he asks, breathlessness evident at the tail end of his words.

“It’s just… the water in your painting glass,” you say. “It still isn’t frozen, and here I am, carefully turning into a block of ice.”

A small chuckle escapes him, too. “Slime Condensate and Mist Flower Corolla extract. The condensate is viscous enough that the extract won’t freeze it completely. Because it tiptoes the line of a solid and a liquid, it won’t cross the threshold, even if I were to take it out into the harsh weather of this mountain.”

You hum in thought. “Is it… edible?”

“If the recipe was tweaked, I’m sure it could be. Why?”

“It could be patented and made for the adventurers that try to come up here. Their drinking water freezes, and they can’t eat the snow or it’ll change their internal temperature— if it could stay a singular temperature while they’re up here, it might make them last a little longer.”

Albedo’s gaze goes toward the glass. One of the two brushes sitting inside shifts from the stiff breeze that blows into the cave, clattering against the rim. He lets out a hum of his own, before looking back to you, eyes seemingly glittering.

“Want to run another experiment?”

masterlist | taglist pt. i | pt. ii | pt.iii

#at the time this was originally posted i thought 'wouldn't it just be cruel to leave it with an open ending?'#to those who have ALREADY read this-- you already know this--#but there will be a part two and a potential part three! so don't worry.#albedo smut #albedo x reader #albedo x y/n #albedo x yn #albedo x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #albedo genshin impact #albedo kreideprinz #albedo fluff #✦ nc vb.#✦ fool's experiment

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icyblogs · 19 days

Text

flesh and bone

Winter represents many things. The start of a new season. The beginnings to an end. Or the beginnings of a new start. Years finally caught up to you, finally knowing enough to summon a creature able to fulfill things beyond your wildest imagination. So why is it that you're now finding out that everything was orchestrated from the very start? Or: A DND au where a human falls into the clutches of a fiend and his guard dog. Patron!Ghost x Fem!Reader x Warlock!Soap WC: 6.8K Based off of this thought ! [AO3] -> Next Chapter Warnings: Start of a dark fic!! Mentions of death, depression, dubcon touching, semi-graphic description of violence, paranoia, manipulation, reader has a backstory to make sense for plot! A/N: i've never written for cod before so i'm sorry if characterizations are wonky okay ty

Winter represents many things. The start of a new season. The beginnings to an end. Or the beginnings of a new start. Most often in literature they can be associated with the circle of life- many animals lay dormant in this time of year. But even still, it goes to show the fragility of life; some creatures thriving in the atmosphere while others retreat back to their homes and really remember just what they’re living for- waiting it out until the leaves sprout anew. Just as the waters of puddles and lakes crystalize into ice or the roads start to slowly become less traveled– many things come into association with this time of year.

Death, mourning, skiing- sledding. The dichotomy of moseying along something in nature that could so easily kill you. Just for a bit of adrenaline. For some thrill or interesting experiences to tell at the next person you see at a tavern, drinking and chortling over a tankard of ale. Albeit most races aren’t built to survive freezing temperatures, they sure act like they are. But some actually are of course. Goliaths with their adeptness of surviving in the mountains- up to twenty thousand feet in altitude. Some dragonborn depending on their ancestry, hailing from ancient beings that simply thrive in some of the most subzero of places in the lands. But of course.. most are not. Putting on layer upon layer to just merely survive in these conditions- unable to even thrive unless the circumstances deem worthy enough.

It is seldom worth the consequences.

The winters were frigid as always, sharp pin pricks of frost seeping into through your stagecoach’s insulation even though the artificer claimed they infused the interior with a heating cantrip. Damn swindler- “100 gold for a safe and warm journey!” It unfortunately was the price of discreteness.. but maybe if you wished hard enough the air coming through would be enough to keep you from turning into an icicle- but it provided almost an almost numbing sensation to temporarily soothe the anxiety pricking at the recesses of your mind.

Just a few more hours, just a bit more time, and everything will be perfect.

Regardless, it was a fitting evening, all things considered. The mountainous path was characteristically barren- as to be expected being so close to Midwinter. Dense fog drifts further obscuring your vision as you stare out the semi-opaque glass into the no man’s land. Trembling fingers smooth out your cloak as you straighten in your seat, the temperatures seeping through and nipping at your skin despite the warm wool gloves that cover the appendages. Your breath was a foggy mist as you breathe, leaning back as the air swirls around and encapsulates the interior of the.. Let’s call it a cozy vehicle.

It was easy to notice the slow pace that the coach was going: after all you can only be lost in your thoughts for so long. Going out of the city during this time of year was always a toss up on how navigable things would be.. But given the surge in technology with these infused machines and .. these wizards and such- theoretically it should be a breeze.

A gilded bag sits beside you on the worn leather seats, the contents packed with purpose- containing the bare essentials, among other things. It was silent besides your ragged breath, gripping the fabric of your cloak in a white-knuckled grip, lips pursed as you glanced through the fogged glass once more as if something would change in the scenery. The engrained tick made it a habit hard to shake off; eyes flickering back and forth repetitively either side of dark path on the left of you to the dark path to the right of you, almost compulsively like it was an itch needed to be scratched despite there being no one there the last ten times you checked. It was a simple inkling that needed to be constantly taken care of- as if the moment your head was turned, you could almost swear that something was looking back at you.

A face? Ah, it was just some branches-

The stagecoach swerves and it makes you jolt out of your thoughts, eyes glancing behind you towards the front of the carriage, absentmindedly chewing on your tongue and a grimace immediately crosses your features, not even registering the pinprick of pain in your mouth.

Seeing the horses rearing their hooves, stopping in their tracks, the horse’s squeals were loud even over the sound of the biting wind. All of it felt too familiar; it’s been years and yet.. It’s almost too easy to fall into the abyss of your mind, your breathing slowing. The slow and steady stream coming to a halt as if the crimson in your veins were mere molasses- stopping the flow to what allowed you to properly breathe, feeling as though your chest was being crushed. Pressing down, ripping the air out of my lungs– peine forte et dure.

It was almost mocking in a sense, the stagecoach seems to disappear and you’re planted firmly back in the painful memories that dance around your skull like a rattle, the taunts and phantom pains drifting over the side of your face. Remembering the curve of a dagger sinking into your skin and through tissue, choking on blood- a sense of blind panic seeping its way into the air that your lungs struggle to remember how to be of use. You recall smoke- thick and permeating down your trachea, choking- gagging for some sort of reprieve, your hands outreached to grab their hand if only you could stretch just a little further-

A bang startles you out of your stupor as you gasp, head whipping to the side- cold sweat dripping down your temples. Your left hand feels unnaturally heavy as you take a deep breath to steady your haggard breathing, trembling as you stare at the coachman- a harengon- you hadn’t recalled his name. He hops into the interior, shooting you a look of concern. You gulp a few times to soothe your dry throat, the taste of iron bittersweet, coating your tongue as if a rich cabernet- thick and heavy. Familiar.

“Ma’am- I’m so sorry. The path is too treacherous I can only take you this far-”

It takes you longer than you would have liked to collect yourself-, licking your dry lips, the cracks from the dry weather causing the simple motion to sting. “And- And I do believe I paid you for a full express ride through the Surykyk Range and to the top of Mt. Akka. Did I not?” Your voice is firm, albeit a little shaky as you cock your head looking at the rabbit with pursed lips.

He looks apologetic, wringing his hat between his two paws, his ears drooping. “Ma’am, really, you have to understand-”

“Understand?”

“Yes, I know you prepaid but the road after this gets too perilous and..” His voice becomes a sort of background noise, an ugly feeling festering as you blink slowly. There was that sensation again you’ve felt a few times over the past few years; a little tingle on the hairs of your neck as they raised, along with the incessant buzz that completely sounds out the haregon’s voice. His lips move- words that seem to go in one ear and out the other, as if making fun of you. His droopy ears, his expression of sympathy- no pity. Looking at you like you’re some sort of wounded animal– no- he was mocking you. Of course he was.

Your hands tremble as they tighten into fists, mouth opening and then closing and you let out a heavy sigh. It was irritating- how could a simple job such as this could not be? Pay some gold to get to the top of a mountain- why was everyone around you acting so completely incompetent? Why are they acting as if you were asking them to do the impossible? In this day and age a small trip of this magnitude should be nothing. A walk in a park. If they weren’t going to be of any use then.. Why are they even in front of you at all? Do they seriously not know how long you’ve waited for this and they’re just denying you access? Over a petty blizzard? No.

Beneath your gloves the skin was taut as you tighten your hands into fists as if it would help ground yourself but to no avail. The low buzzing grows louder; like bees humming around your brain like the ridges and valleys were honey- drowning out the pounding of your heartbeat. Louder and louder, reaching deep into the grooves and making their place known, feeding on your festering distress. On your negative emotions. The sense of trepidation melds back into being wound up like a tight spring as you continue to stare hard at the rabbit; your body acting as if on auto-pilot. His whiskers twitch. And you? Well you just go through the movements and zone out once more, falling into a welcoming void of darkness, surrounding you- comforting you.

The blood rushes to your head as your heart pounds, the buzzing ceasing to a low hum. When you come back to, you are still in the stagecoach, however, you are the only living being in it. It wasn’t necessarily a surprise really, these recent bursts of blackouts are more common as of late, happening more often than not. They happen at the most random of times and always seem to exemplify death- oddly enough it only started happening after the incident. Only after you found out you could summon a greater being to give you power.

Your eyes flicker down to the white boots you were wearing and click your tongue, seeing the sprinkle of red bleed into them as if the blood were a brush and the leather it’s canvas. You try to rub out the stain but to no avail, only smearing it into a sort of pinkish hue. Your eyes then move upwards towards the wooden ceiling and then fall unceremoniously towards the corpse, wiping your forehead with the back of your glove, face losing color. Your hands felt almost achy, the muscles strained and well.. Seeing the way his neck was bent ninety degrees, it was understandable. The aftermath of these blackouts were never easy. Fighting down the growing nausea, you stumble out of the stagecoach, clutching your bag firmly to your chest as you pass the horses- trudging through the rough terrain.

—

The hours feel longer now, the evening turning into twilight, as you take the trek by foot. Sheer cliffs drop sharply into the abyss below as you continue to climb further and further from mass-population; rising steadily in elevation as you take in the sights all around as far as the eye can see. The thick blanket of fog really did make it hard to see everything clearly but what of the forest around you that you could see was big. It was vast, the barren trees with a light coat of fresh snow brushing along their branches. Grand normally in nature, but even more so as they seem to tower over the road: the branches sticking out like gnarled fingers, hanging over the cliffside as if trying to beckon you off the beaten path. The snow covered ground is uneven, the shadows cast by the moon creating disfigured shadows and shapes that play tricks on your eyes.

It honestly didn’t help the anxiety whatsoever; the fog, the falling snow— the overall just sensation of being watched. You blame the paranoia and lack of sleep at the time, but it was impossible to resist the urge to look behind you to see if something appeared in the last two seconds you weren’t looking.

Maybe the Haregon was.. right. It was, for lack of a better term, hell. Auril’s reach was deep- as to be expected being so deep into her territory, but it was terrible. The snow piled up to be knee deep, having to pay close attention and really watch where there was the slightest indentation in the snow- if only to figure out where the fissures were so you don’t fall to an unseemly death. It was nearly impossible to do this with just the moonlight to light your way: wishing that you didn’t care so much in case something went wrong. You should’ve just gone through with all this in the comforts of your home.

After all.. It would surely be a shame if you got so close to your goal and yet never reached it. Would truly be such a pity.

The area was honestly reminiscent of what you might conjure up Stygia being like; how you might imagine that part of the hells being in terms of barely being traversable- snow as far as the eye could see. It wouldn’t be a surprise if you saw a gaggle of frost giants or the start of the Styx the next time you turned a corner as you continued to steadily rise in elevation.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, creating a rhythmic cadence. Every step is a genuine, calculated effort to not slip and fall on the surface- gripping the mountain side tightly as to not fall. And well, in addition to yet everything else the frigid and occasional gusts of wind that sends plumes of snow swirling around you, only adding to the overwhelming sense of sheer isolation in this desolate landscape. The further in elevation you get the more that feeling grows on you. It doesn’t help that you can barely see ten feet in front of you either. However.. At some point you realize you may or may not be lost. It was.. Well, it was hard not to get lost.

Yeah, you were definitely lost.

It was easy to look up at the sky and huff, taking a few deep breaths to calm your nerves, but it was certainly a difficult task. Back in the city when you initially planned out this whole grand scheme, it was theoretically supposed to be an easy trip. Go out to Mt. Akka- far away from civilization in case you mess up the ritual, and then summon the all knowing being and make a pact. It was supposed to be easy. Three easy steps. After all that’s what he said all those years ago. The man that started all this.

—

Days after the incident had time crawling to a standstill- the hours feeling like weeks. Funeral arrangements made and gone through with. Sympathies and gifts sent to your temporary place of residence as if they were truly sorry for you. ‘Sorry for your loss.’ ‘She was a wonderful mother, a great friend.’ If they truly felt that way, then why was it just you looking down at the casket as it got covered with soil? Why were you the only person who seemed to be grieving for this loss? Why did nobody else come to pay their respects as you stayed for days, finding solace in the overturned soil? As if you could claw your way through the ground and climb inside with her, hugging the charred corpse and burrowing between her ribs. Aching for the sensation of a hug, of an embrace.

It really was no surprise when you’re found spending your nights in a shady tavern. Tucked away deep in the city- in alleyways, far away from the upper levels. It really was the best place to drink away your sorrows. It was the perfect place to become a nobody.

Huddled into a corner of a grimey back alley place, the wood sticky and stained with what, you weren’t sure. It was loud that night; and yet there you were: alone with nothing but a tankard of ale to drown out anything else. Just wanting to get numb. Just wanting to .. stop everything. Patrons come in and out, and yet there you stay even as dawn begins to rise. Sticking out like a sore thumb despite the best efforts to blend in. Too rigid to count as a regular, too downtrodden to appear lighthearted enough to familiarize yourself with the other joyous people. Just a meager human in a hodgepodge of species.

That’s where he found you. Sitting on a stool on the end of the bar; staring down at the amber liquid, gently nursing the liquid- too many drinks in to necessarily turn your nose up at the far too bitter and pungent cheap ale. It was now a more comforting taste, dulling the senses, muffling the loud noise, turning it into a vice.

A hand brushes along the curve of your ass- quickly making its way up and settles over the nape of your neck- squeezing absentmindedly, and you’re brought back to the present. Head lolling to the side slightly as your gaze travels upwards. Bright blue eyes stare back at you, resembling a kaleidoscope of precious gems- sapphire, larimar, kyanite- swirling and sparkling with mischief, his gaze adorned with an impish grin. His dark hair was ruffled up in a sort of weird style, long on the top, short on the sides. He was a peasant, it was easy to assume but if you were more coherent, it was easy to tell that he was anything but, despite how he presented himself to you. Back a little too straight, nails clipped and short, no signs of dirt underneath them. The stranger’s fingers dig into your flesh and you frown, squinting up at his sheer audacity.

It was then you noticed his ears- ah. That’s why he looked so .. ethereal. His skin was perfect. But he had facial hair.. A half elf? Regardless, you stick your nose up at him as you scowl, perfectly content to wallow in grief in peace. Trying to twist your head out of his gentle, but firm grip. Mouth opening to tell him off- to leave you the hell alone–

“Ah’ll buy ye a drink bonnie.” His low purr cuts off your starting protests, hovering over you, blocking your view from the rest of the tavern- hand squeezing you once more before falling and taking their place across your lower back as if it belonged there. The warmth of his skin follows your movements as you press against the bar in a sluggish attempt to get some space. The man tilts his head down at you, giving a toothy smile when your frown deepens, looking at him with clear apprehension- “Dinnae ken, i’ll buy ye something strong. You look like ye need it, hm?”

It was easy to squirm under his insistent gaze, nodding. Eyes half-lidded as you blink slowly, the pads of his fingers absentmindedly tapping into your back when you didn’t answer verbally. “Yeah.. I guess so.”

Never realizing that you never had a choice; it truly was never an offer.

Regardless, this stranger- Johnny you later found out his name was- listened to your tales and woes as you blubber over the ‘top’ shelf liquor. Slurring your words incomprehensibly as he sat on the stool next to you, large hand now finding its home in holding the flesh of your thigh far too high up to be considered respectable. It was easy to take the information given to you at heart as he even gave such great life advice. Describing wonderful tales of protection- of something to work for- a goal to try and get to. It was hard to remember at the time why his words seemed to cut through the fog of the alcohol, and why it stuck with you.

“And he’d make sure ye’d never have te worry about nothin’ again. Set up for life, able to get easy protection for yerself. Sounds like a dream, and it’d only be a few small things tae do.” Poisonous words seeping into your ears paired a saccharine sweet smile hiding the maws of a dog ready to bite down at a moment’s notice. Holding himself back, playing nice for you. For him. “I mean yer a wee bonnie thing, drinkin’ your life away. Shh.. shh I ken, I ken- I know it’s hard.” Wiping your tears away as they start to overflow again, hiccuping as you take another large swig of your drink.

John was just one of those people that it was easy to talk to- maybe it was how long you’ve been in this place, or maybe it was the fact that he was buying your drinks, who knows. Just a charming gentleman, knowing all the right things to say, and so what if he was a little touchy? Maybe he just needed a little bit of comfort too, surely you could understand that, right? He was so nice in fact that he walked you back to your temporary residence- silly, you must’ve forgotten you told him where you were staying- and when you woke up the next morning there was a concisely written note with everything you needed to do. The smell of sulfur stuck to the parchment as if burned into the grooves of it.

What a nice guy.

—

Yeah, looking back though it certainly wasn’t the brightest idea to go this far away from civilization. But you heard it was a scary ritual! That there might be a lot of consequences to it! But as you looked around the snowy scene with a huff it was clear that you were more than likely not going to make it any further than this without just flat out dying. So.. you pause in your steps. The situation was just so absurd, that you were risking your life for something that might not even happen. But what else is there for you to do at this point? It sparks a bubble of bittersweet laughter in your chest as you wipe away some flurries on your nose- maybe you can just wish to make it out of here alive and well instead.

You crouch down, awkwardly trying to clear away the snow to reveal the hard ground- your hands freezing wet by this point- the wool gloves feeling as though it was becoming brittle and stiff. It takes a few minutes but you were able to eventually clear a decently sized space around you. The ritual should’ve been performed at a higher elevation, for your sake of mind over anything else- but at this point it was quite literally probably either do or die. So might as well try to give it a last ditch effort, right? And with how the snow continued to descend thick and fast, like a relentless onslaught with no regards towards your personal quest, it was only a matter of time. So you continue to awkwardly carve out a space around you, grimacing at how your hard work was by the minute getting covered up by the steadily growing blizzard around you. The line of sight diminished drastically as the snowstorm swept through the landscape like a ghostly specter, cloaking the world in a shroud of swirling white and obscuring all signs of life or landscape.

Clutching the bag so the contents don’t get blown away, you procure a small glass jar of a fiend’s blood- trembling hands starting to pour it on the ground in an attempt to recreate the shape you recall tracing so many times before. It certainly felt different using blood as paint rather than graphite; practically speeding through the process as by the second, snow was landing on your now coagulating hard work. The symbol was lopsided, the intricate circles and lines definitely asymmetrical and not fully correct- A gust of wind shoots through the gorge, the force nearly strong enough to make you crash into the ground. You stumble as the sound of glass shattering resonates, the sound echoing even above the roaring sound of the wind rushing past you. You gulp hard, shaking like a leaf in a raging storm- when another gust, almost like a predator sinking its claws into your skin; forcing you down into the ground, as if you didn’t have permission to stand. Your body hoists itself up for but a brief moment and then unceremoniously falls, and you scowl as your body is forced into a makeshift kneeling position, the cold tendrils blowing past you as if in the imitation of a bone chilling hug.

Well.. a pact summoning could be done standing or sitting down, you suppose.

Somewhere along the way your demands and wishes for this pact- for this all giving wish might have gotten a little.. skewed. It had been a whole process to get to this point after the accident- years dedicated to sneaking about the forbidden areas of libraries- going from nation to nation, paying hefty amounts of gold for mere names that might aid you on your quest for the power to protect yourself. The power to protect what once had long been past, like a memory fleeting in the wind. Faceless people crying out for you to run, for you to stay- for you to save them– for you to save yourself. The power to reach your hands further out and save your loved ones.

So .. when did that start to twist into the wish to live. To simply survive the circumstances you’ve thrust yourself into?

The blizzard seems to rain even worse as you sort of tussle down a gem in the ground of one of the circles- some emerald pendant your family has had in their lineage for centuries. It was an attachment that felt sort of poignant, one of the only few things that’s survived that is of their memory– blinking away the forming tears as you watch the snow slowly fall over the item. You then proceed to pull out a singed book of spells- one you’ve tried to use a countless number of times, but the weave never seemed to allow you to tap into the energy; and you’ve had to hold onto it for the ritual as it was a magical item, no matter how much it was just a blatant form of mockery. As if saying ‘wizards and sorcerers can use me and yield results, so why can’t you?’ You set the heavy leather book on the other circle.

You crawl against the force of the wind awkwardly to the middle of the practically ruined ritual circle, trying not to ruin your already stained clothing- but at this point did it even matter anymore? A small vial is procured- this blood visibly lighter than the fiend’s- this being one of a fellow human; the blood of a friend. You haul yourself to your feet, digging into the hard dirt to keep yourself stabilized, despite how badly the world was trying to send you crashing down to the floor. Clearly unable to keep yourself steady, you hastily drip the liquid beneath you, already starting the incantations that you know oh so well, spreading the liquid in a smear with your heel, praying and hoping this would work. Watching as each drop sinks into the sleet, the macabre tapestry that spirals out– as if the very land itself was painting a picture; weeping for the fallen, mourning their passing in silent reverence. It was for a good cause- you told yourself.

Years of letting your feelings fester, dedicating years of studying and researching towards this moment, your palms becoming doused in red and the darkening of your soul- all towards changing your fate- though you had hoped this moment would end up being done in a well.. more covered environment, however it was no matter. This was the better alternative- getting power for free. Not having to train and be proficient in magic and study all those years. Your mind sort of just latched onto the idea of working smarter- not harder. To get a shortcut in the way of life.

Infernal spills from your tongue- accented and choppy despite your best recreation of it- clearly not of your mother tongue despite the fact you could practically recite it in your sleep by this point. The incantation was slowly spoken, like a low rumble- reaching the far back of your throat, the cadence deliberate and guttural as that small hum of a buzz begins to slowly begin in the deep recess of your mind. A small pocket knife is procured from your bag, flipping it open as you urge your voice to be louder than the howling wind as the snow swirls around you like a vortex. The blade presses against the palm of your hand.

The pain lasted for but a brief moment, small bubbles of blood starting to dribble out of the wound, falling at a faster rate as it dripped onto the circle beneath you, combining with the scarlet already split. The cold wind continues to swish around you, your clothing providing little to no protection as the incantation becomes louder, the words becoming choppy– more frantic. The shadows grow longer, the trees groan as if bearing the weight of something heavy. And then your voice comes to a stop, panting as you wait for something to happen, smiling as you look around with wide eyes, a numbness starting to make its way through your limbs.

Silence.

And more silence.

It was painstakingly easy to panic, hastily repeating the incantation as loud as you can- something setting in. A realization of what you were doing? Yeah that wasn't working.

“No- Nono.” Tears make it harder to see, blinking them away as another cut was made, adding more blood to the middle of the circle as if that would solve all the problems in the world- “Why- Why isn’t it working? I did everything right-” The pitch rises in your growing hysteria, looking around at the partially covered symbol to see if something went wrong. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips and it turns into a chuckle and then into a full on fit of laughter, your cracked lips forming a larger grin. There’s no way right? That this was actually happening. Years of your time- nearly five god forsaken years. If you ever saw that blue eyed elf you’d kill him. Fucking hell-

“Please-” Your head tilts back as you glance up at the stormy sky, pinpricks of fear running down your spine as the expression simmers into a more somber one. It all comes crashing down as a jarring realization that all this time- you didn’t even know exactly who it was you were trying to summon. That elf and all those people telling the stories of tales across the land, talking of a being to grant power. To grant wealth. To provide enough strength to save the people around you. To take a nobody and turn them into a somebody. To give reason to actually keep living instead of joining your mother six feet under. Buried back under the burnt down remains of your estate.

It was described as simple. Summoning the being in a circle of a fiend’s blood- establishing a connection to the outer realms. That part was simple enough, though it took trading with some shady people but eventually you got what you needed; some mercenary you had to pay off to look the other way as you essentially go through the process of bloodletting an imp. Then draw out the symbol- provide the items of a precious gem and a magical artifact. Easy enough. Provide the blood of a friend- showing how willing you are to cut ties your former life to just to establish the connection, and finish it with a drop of your own blood to finish the connection, all while chanting some very specific incantations.

You did all that. So.. why wasn’t it working?

You performed it perfectly.

The hard ground felt like nothing to your numb body as you sank into the snow once more. Glass glitters in the snow as it presses into the side of your face, but you barely register the pain. It was supposed to work. All those scrolls- all those people, all that time. And for what? A useless invocation. Something that didn’t even work. Taking the time and energy, going out of the way of civilization in case something went wrong and.. Yet. And yet- It was silly. It was so freezing out here, the air thin and hard to breathe, but for some reason it felt warm.

You weren’t anything special, a mere human in the world of dragons. In a world of krakens and beholders and all these amazing things. And yet at the end of the day.. you were just a regular old nobody. Sure, you were of a sort of nobility status- though not anymore– but you were trying to change your past; trying to make yourself better. To change what has already been predetermined- to reach up and touch the stars, not realizing that you were tethered to the realm. Trying to rewrite predetermined fate, as if you actually had a chance at being anything more than being completely useless-

It was easy to lose your train of thought, head swimming as an unsettling terror seizes your chest- everything begins to fracture and break. The sounds around you start to become distant echoes, muffled and indistinct, as if you’re listening from the bottom of a deep well. There's a strange detachment, as if you’re floating on the edge of reality, holding on only by the thinnest of threads. The cliffs around you seem like they’re combining overtop, as if you’re looking through a fishbowl lens: the shadows seem darker, twisting and turning under the moonlight’s glow. Your thoughts slow to a crawl, each one a struggle to grasp onto before slipping away like sand through an hourglass, fighting a losing bottle to have any idea be coherent enough to pass through the filter. Accompanied by a tingling sensation that spreads from the tips of your fingers to the crown of your head, as if your body is disconnecting from itself, each limb growing heavier and more distant with every passing moment.

Why did this happen? Why.. did it not work?

Why did you even try? You just wanted to be more. You just wanted to survive. To live.

Black dots fly in your field of view; dancing around like fairies in the wind, mocking as they flutter across your vision with no rhyme or reason. Your vision blurs- the unsaturated colors of the snowscape soften into monochromatic tones of gray; the moonlight seems to go further and further away as your head sinks into the snow; the dots growing larger as if obscuring your vision.

You’d do anything.

You blink slowly as the buzzing creeps up louder, wrapping around your brain and clinging to the nerves. And then all at once dissipates, leaving an eerie silence in its wake. The feeling of being watched seeps into your conscious state of mind but at this point it was a mere afterthought, feeling hollow as your eyes fall half lidded.

“Anything?” A low timbre resonates around you, emanating from no discernable source. The disembodied voice seems to drift around your fallen form, as if hovering- waiting.

The realization has a little chuckle ripping its way out of your throat. Oh, you were hearing things now. Lovely. You were discombobulated clearly, eyes closing as you breathe slowly, your heart seeming to calm down. The voice- you weren’t exactly sure if there was someone around you or if you were genuinely going crazy, like it was some angel above speaking to you on death’s door.

Right. Keep your eyes open- it’s not time to sleep yet. Right? But honestly it wasn’t even that cold anymore. Rather warm actually- like you were being coddled in an embrace- why would you want to move? Your eyes squint open against the snowstorm, looking around blearily at your limited scope of sight. Your limbs feel not only heavy but numb, and you knew moving them would be a chore and so you simply stay put laying down. There was a brief moment of nothing and then- Ah, right. There was someone speaking to you.

“Uh huh.” That sufficed right? There was an unnecessarily long pause, prompting you to continue talking- after all, what harm would it do? “Wanna live.” Your tongue felt heavy, as if speaking required some sort of insurmountable effort. You shift- pressing your face further against the dirt, lacking the energy to try and do anything else, little pricks of blood starting to stain the fresh snow.

“You’d do anything?” The gruff voice rings out once more and you almost groan, eyes fluttering around uselessly, vision blurring and becoming unfocused. Why was it–he?- asking you that? Aren’t your last moments supposed to be in peace, not filled with conversation?

“Anythin’.” You slur, gasping for breath as soon as the last sound finishes your chest suddenly tightens, constricting your breath, as if the air around you stills. You don’t notice the change in atmosphere, the magic sprinkling around your body- floating and pulling at unseen chains tethered deep in your heart- too hyper focused on the sudden searing pain on the back of your neck; akin to a branding iron.

“Silly girl.”

You writhe at the sensation, whining, feeling the individual lines of runes being carved deep into your skin. The pain was unlike you’d felt before, even from the pain all those years ago. No- this– this was agony. This was being trapped in a whirlpool, dragged under the depths by the relentless force of pain, unable to find solid ground. This was thousands of needles piercing your skin, pulsing through you like a constant drumbeat- each throb, each line being carved only sending waves of agony. Like a black hole, taking you deep into the Shadowfell, into the Nine Hells- being torn apart- each limb being torn. No- not torn. This was more precise, being carved like a butcher- no like a surgeon, meticulously taking their time to dissect you. To pull back your skin and peer at everything that makes you, you. Each individual nerve and muscle laid bare as they are probed and examined, delving into the very essence of your being. Seeing what makes you tick, what makes you smile- your worst thoughts- your deepest desires.

This feeling wasn’t.. unfamiliar oddly enough- in fact the opposite, as if you’ve felt it before, except this time it was a more obvious invasion, a violation of your innermost sanction as it digs deep into your body and pushing past your ribs and settling into its new home, wrapping an icy claw around your heart and constricting–

Then all at once the torment ceases, the pain being replaced with almost a sense of reprieve. You feel the phantom of a hand brushing over the now raised skin, causing your sweat-ridden body to jerk away frivolously, before settling, letting out a soft sigh. The sudden relief was like stepping into a new realm of freedom and tranquility; as if all the burdens you previously had were released. Like gentle relief that calmed the raging of your mind- calming the storm of anguish and bringing a moment of clarity and peace. The fear that once consumed you, the sense of hopelessness that weighed heavy on your heart, the loneliness that haunted you for years—all of it now seemed fleeting, like passing thoughts. As transient as the wind sweeping through the sky, soon forgotten. Those years of all that struggle; all those years of searching and praying for some sort of help. Like a weight lifted off your chest. You could reach above; no longer being bound to the realm: you could do anything. Be anything- Your eyes had closed, when did they close? You open them- seeing nothing but the darkness of the mountains, but it was so weird, as you could feel it- him- hovering around your form like a lingering shadow. A man? A monster- you weren’t sure. It was hard to tell.

And so, when your eyelids inevitably fell closed once more, it only made sense you were too far gone to even notice the skull-faced monstrosity standing over you, his head tilted as he looked down at his newly anointed warlock with an inscrutable expression. Rich amber eyes looking down at you and then- a pleased hum resonates through the air.

Mere minutes later the spot where you once laid was coated with a fresh coat of snow, looking like a pristine blank page, as if nothing had even transpired there in the first place. As though you never existed in that space to begin with.

36 notes · View notes

roselyn-writing · 1 year

Note

Kuai lieng,scorpion and fem reader who likes to look at something, but at the same time listens to the interlocutor, but from the outside looks like he is not listening to them

Hello! Sorry for keeping you waiting! But here’s what you asked for! Kuai Liang and scorpion x fem reader

🧊Kuai Liang/Subzero 💠

You are one of Kuai’s best students, he likes to spend time with you, Kuai likes to lecture you about how you do things, mostly practicing, He likes to lecture you about the mistakes you did and how to never do them again.

But, every time he talks with you, your eyes goes somewhere else, looking at a lovely tundra tree while listening to him, He snaps his fingers again to regain your attention to him.

“Ayy! I’m listening!” You muttered.

“Look at me when I am talking to you!” Kuai Liang said.

“Sorry-“ You apologized.

“No excuses young lady! This is the billionth time you did it again!” He interrupted

“Grandmaster! I’m listening to you,” You uttered

“No, It doesn’t seem so,” Kuai Liang chided

“Sorry... I won’t do that again” you apologized.

“I am happy to hear this,” Kuai Liang said and gently patted your head.

“You know that isn’t polite when someone is talking with you and you are not looking at them,” He said.

“I know, I’m sorry again,” you Apologized again.

“Let’s go inside, Dear Y/n,” He told brightly.

“Okay!” You replied smiling at him.

Then you both left to Continue the training.

🔥Hanzo Hasashi/Scorpion🦂

Hanzo loves to speak with you, he feels like he is happy whenever he talks with you about anything.

You feel the same, you love to talk with him, sit with him, and have a cup of tea with him too. It’s just you love it when you be with him.

One day, Hanzo asks you if you can come with him and have a cup of tea with him. You happily agree to drink tea with him.

In the tea hall, both of you sat together and he prepared a hot teapot.

You take your time admiring the room you are in, it was decorated with old Japanese paintings of two Japanese couples, Japanese writing, and stuff similar to this.

“I see that you like the place,” The Grandmaster started

“Yeah! Very much,” You answered with a smile on your face.

While he is talking you kept looking at the room again, you begin to be interested in Japanese history and stuff.

He kept talking and talking, your eyes drifting in the room and the decorations in it. You felt like a child in a candy store, you love everything about him and his family, the history and such. That’s why you joined his clan.

He noticed that you were looking in the room and the decorations in it, he smiled to himself, knowing that you are of a different heritage, country, etc, and you are interested in his country's history and heritage. It warms his heart to know this.

“Y/N Are you listening to me?” He asked, he know the answer, but he wanted to ask.

“Yes! Yes! I’m listening to ya,” You answered him happily

“Dear~ I know that you aren’t paying attention while I’m speaking,” He gently chided.

“Hehe, Sorry! I’m just too taken in by the decorations~” you muttered.

He only chuckles in response, he gently kissed you on the head and patted your head.

“Let me tell you about them~,” he says, you nodded excitedly.

I hope you like this one and stay tuned for more~ ❤️❤️💗💗💞🌸💙💜😘✨

270 notes · View notes

beefrobeefcal · 9 months

Note

Being at the beach with chubby!Frankie. He’s sitting with his back against reader’s chest and the reader’s is caressing his belly and his arms. Reader’s fingers are ghosting over the hem of his swim shorts, sometimes dipping them into his shorts but keeping it appropriate cause they’re in public. Nuzzling and kissing him on the cheek, on the neck, just anywhere their lips can reach and Frankie is just loving it.

This Frankie is my crypto night!! ~🪻

BEACH DAY? WITH FRANKIE?

I live for this. Thank you for your generous contribution, Nonnie! I hope you enjoy and scratches the itch for you.

Beefro 👌🥩💜

--------<3----------

Beefro Proudly Presents:

a Chubby!Frankie one shot

The Catfish & The Mouse: Sometimes, Frankie's a Beach

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader (Mouse!)

Summary: Cranky Catfish is on vacation!

Rating: Explicit 18+ (MDNI)

Word Count: 2,517

Content Warning: Smutty smutty smut smut, p in the v - unwrapped (don't be silly, cover you willy, kids!), Moody Frankie, bikinis, V!Fingering, Holiday Shower Sex

Author's Notes: Four Times Frankie - are we hear for the new call sign? Love you all, Friendos, and keep the thots coming!

Not proofed. Enjoy!

__________________________

Frankie walked into your kitchen and leaned on the counter, phone against his ear. Your ears perked up when you heard your name and looked over at him while you continued to clean potatoes.

Frankie saw you and held one finger up to you. “Yeah… okay…. Thanks for thinking of us, man… sure, I’ll tell her…. Yup. Later, Ironhead.”

Tapping the screen to end the call, he looked up and smiled at you. You smiled back with raised eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just Will and Hannah planning a getaway that they want us to come along for.”, he said nonchalantly, examining his nail beds.

“Really? Where we going?”, you asked a little too enthusiastically.

Frankie smiled and sauntered towards you, dragging his finger along the counter. “Somewhere with crystal blue water, sandy beaches, and no fucking snow.”

You and Frankie had been talking about getting out of town during this terrible winter, wanting to escape the weather and subzero temperatures, but hadn’t decided anything concrete.

You squealed and launched yourself at Frankie, leaping up into his arms as he caught you. He turned around and sat you on the counter and his hands grabbed your waist under your woolly sweater, his eyes gentle and soft as he looked over your excited face.

“A week with no bulky sweaters or snow.”, you teased, leaning forward, and running your tongue on his neck and placing soft kisses along his jaw.

A low groan came from Frankie’s throat as his hands began to lift your sweater up, and your pulled back so he could get it over your head. Throwing the sweater behind him, he reached out and began to knead your bra-covered tits in his large hands.

Looking you in the eyes with a very serious face, he stated, “The best part? Very limited clothing needed.”

*****

A five-hour flight and 45-minute taxi ride behind you, you and the group arrived at your resort.

Hannah checked you all in and began to disperse the key cards to each group.

Finding your rooms, you and Hannah stood in the hallway talking about dinner plans and what you were planning to wear. Frankie, who was very grumpy, had already opened your room and gotten your luggage in when he came out and grabbed your hands, dragging to your room.

“Come on. We’ll see them at dinner.”

Once in the room, Frankie stood over you and pointed at the bathroom, grouchily barking at you, “Get ready for dinner. I'm hungry.”

“Jeeze. Okay. I’m going.”, you snapped back with an eyeroll.

As soon as you were ready, Frankie grabbed your hand and made a b-line out the door and to the elevators.

“Slow down! What’s the rush?”, you laughed, amused with his desperation.

Frowning, Frankie dragged you into the open elevator and pressed the lobby button and huffed at you.

“Oh, you’re hangry, Frankie...”, you teased, patting his belly. “Don’t worry, baby, I think it’s a buffet downstairs. We’ll get you fed and happy.”

An hour or so later, the rest of the group arrived to see Frankie sitting back with his tummy full.

“Well, Fish, what do you recommend for dinner?”, Benny teased, making both men laugh.

*****

The next morning you woke to sun coming in through the curtains and you could hear the ocean calling you.

“Frankie, you awake?”, you asked softly with a sleepy grin.

“Mmmph.” Frankie was not a morning person, and you expected him to be a little grumpier than normal given that he travelled yesterday and went to bed with a full tummy.

He was asleep on his back, and you curled up against him, drawing gentle circles on his chubby belly.

“Mmmm… s’nice, baby. Let’s stay n’bed today.”, Frankie moaned, his eyes closed and voice heavy with sleep.

You crawled up, sat on his lap and watched as he opened one eye to look at you.

“Mouse… baby… come on… it’s early… we’re on holiday...”, he moaned as his eyes clenched shut and his hands went to your hips. His clothed cock was poking up against you.

“It’s after 11 am, it’s not early. Take me to the beach, Frankie. Wanna get there and get a good spot...”, you whined. “Wanna try out my new swimsuit... supposed to be good for tanning.”

He grunted in response.

“I’ll make it worth your while....” you cooed, rocking your hips a little to get his attention. “You see the big shower we have? Don’t you wanna fuck my tight cunt in it?”

His eyes opened at you wide, and he grinned. “Jesus... you’re terrible, you know that?”

*****

You managed to get Frankie out of bed soon after and you got ready to go out. Heading downstairs, you met up with Will and Benny in the hallway to get your breakfasts.

“Hannah’s still asleep. You know her – not a morning person.”, Will said to you in the elevator.

“But it’s noon.”, Benny stated with a laugh.

Frankie grumbled as he yawned, and you kissed his cheek with a smile and doe eyes.

*****

I was nearing 1:30 pm when you got to the beach. Benny had riled a very grumpy Frankie up over breakfast and no less than five minutes after arriving at the beach, he’d goaded Frankie into chasing him into the water. You and Will set up your spot and enjoyed the sun. You looked out and saw Frankie grab Benny and toss him into the water.

Panting, Frankie trudged towards you, frown on his face.

“Benny’s such a shit.”, he huffed as he sat down, his back turned to you.

“Honey, come here.”, you said sweetly, tugging on wet shirt.

“Hmmph.”, he grunted and pulled away.

Both you and Will tried not to laugh. It was rare that Frankie was grumpy, and it usually was resolved with food. But occasionally, he would fall into a nasty mood and have a hard time breaking out of it.

“Catfish, come on. Your girl’s talking to you.”, Will said in his miliary voice, trying to suppress a smile.

Frankie dramatically huffed and turned to look at you. “What?”, he barked.

You couldn’t help but melt at Frankie right now. He was cranky and defiant, yet still couldn’t help but follow the orders of his former commanding officer. You gave a little pout and opened your arms, beckoning him to come to you.

He scrunched his face then huffed again and crawled up onto you. He sat between your legs, and you pulled his back against you, encasing him in your arms.

You hummed in approval. “Love you.”, you cooed and kissed his cheek.

He mumbled something back to you and Will couldn’t help the laugh he barked out.

“I’ll leave you alone with your cranky Catfish, Mouse. I’m gonna check out the water.”, Will said as he got up and walked towards Benny splashing in the waves.

You nuzzled into his neck and gave him a kiss. “You still grumpy, honey?”

He didn’t answer, so you sat back and began to massage his tense shoulders, working your thumbs and fingers in just the right way. Frankie’s body started to loosen up and his head dipped forward.

“Mmmm s’nice… feels good.”, he groaned, and you knew you had him.

“Take off your shirt, baby, or you’ll get a farmers tan.”, you said softly with a smile.

He rolled his eyes, then sat up and took his shirt off, far too irritated again to care if anyone would notice or comment on his body. He leaned back with a huff, his sunglasses obscuring the glare he was shooting you.

You were sitting up more this time, and his head on your chest as his body laid between your legs, his arms resting on your knees.

You began to draw lazy shapes and circles on his skin with your fingers, starting at his chest and arms. He hummed in appreciation, again, feeling his mood lighten under your touch.

You circled one of his nipples and he sucked in a small breath. Your finger moved on a little lower down, then back up to circle the other one. Sunglasses hiding his eyes, he looked up at you and noted that you were just watching the water with a content look on your face. He sighed and relaxed again, closing his eyes again, enjoying your touch.

He could feel his body start to feel sleepy, and just as he was about to nod off, one finger meandered down to his belly, and drew a spiral around his belly button then went lower to the waistband of his swim shorts. Your other hand joined in on his tummy and he was now getting a gentle belly rub from the tips of your soft fingers. One of your fingers dipped under his waistband slightly, going through his wiry happy trail, and the hand other rubbed his tummy.

You lowered your mouth to his ear and nipped it, then pressed a kiss behind it on his neck, humming while you did so.

“Mouse…”, Frankie warned in a low voice.

“Hmm?”, you answered, continuing your gentle caress, eyes still watching the water.

“We’re in public.”, he stated in the same warning tone.

“Mmhmm.”, you hummed back with a smile. “Just relax, baby.”

You removed your finger from his waistband and continued dancing your fingers across his skin. He again started to fall under the spell of your touch - your fingers and your kisses - feeling like his bones were dissolving and he didn’t have a care or worry in the world.

After a while, you were starting to get hot, and you didn’t want either of you to burn, deciding to try and rouse Frankie, not sure if he was asleep. Your fingers started to make their way back down to his tummy, one hand opened, and you palmed his sun kissed belly while the other hand went right to his waistband and ran along the edge.

You dipped the tips of your fingers underneath and ran your fingers through the coarse hair hidden inside.

Frankie grunted and grabbed your hands to stop them, and you looked down to his shorts, seeing a slight twitching tent in them.

You huffed a small laugh, and cooed, “Frankie, we’re in public. What’s he doing up?”

“You’re a bad girl, Mouse.”, he said, his voice rough with sleep.

“Me? I’m just trying to help, baby.”, you said, feigning innocence.

He smiled as he stretched. “You know how you can help? You can get us back to our room so I can fuck you in that huge shower.”

Nothing more was needed to be said for you to start your trek back to the hotel. Waiting for an elevator to take you up, and Frankie pulled your back against him, and you felt a suspicious poke. Turning back, you gave him a wry grin as you wiggled your hips against him. He returned your grin with a dark smile and a wink.

As soon you exited the elevator, he pushed you against one of the walls and shoved his mouth against yours. You hitched a leg on his hip, and he pulled up your other, and carried you to your door. As he bit and sucked your neck, you tried to get your key card out to open the door.

“Come on, baby… get it open… need to be in that tight little pussy…”, he moaned between kisses on your neck.

“Please… Frankie… fuck…” you mewled as you found the key card.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you two!”, you heard Hannah laughing. You were too preoccupied to notice both she and Santi were leaving their rooms to head to the beach as you got to your hallway.

“Yeah! Four Times Frankie is at it again!”, Santi cheered.

Breathing hard, you finally opened the door, and Hannah gave you a thumbs up and a wink as Frankie put you over his shoulder and carried you into the room.

He tossed you on to the bed and barked, “Naked. Now.”, then headed to the bathroom to turn on the shower.

You did as he said and walked into the bathroom. Frankie pulled you into a deep kiss, one arm holding you against his naked frame, the other snaking down between you and pushing into your folds.

“Baby, can’t wait… need to get you ready now…”, he moaned.

You moaned into his mouth as he walked you backwards into the shower. You felt the back of your leg hit the bench and he tapped your thigh.

“Leg up, baby… need you open for me…”, he panted.

You lifted your leg and planted it on the bench, opening your hips to Frankie. He kissed you again, needy and ravenous, then plunged two fingers into you, working your tight hole open. You cried out into his mouth. He pushed your head to the side with his and bit and kissed your neck. The water cascading down your bodies was beginning to steam up the glass, and the echo the room offered amplified the noises you and your sopping cunt were making.

You held onto his broad shoulders as Frankie worked you up to your release. When you came, your cries and gasps went straight to his aching cock, and he was desperate.

“Fucking tease, Mouse… making me need you so bad… making my dick so hard it hurts… your fu-fucking gorgeous tits right under my head… baby…. you make me crazy… need to fuck you now… please, baby… need you…”, he whined into your neck as he coaxed you through your orgasm.

“Please… Frankie… please…”, you mewled.

He pulled back and lined up himself with you, and pushed in, both of you letting out gasps. He pushed his forehead down against yours, both breathing hard.

He started rocking his hips, and then his desperation took over. He grabbed your hips roughly and began pounding into you; you screamed his name and tried to find something to grab on the glass wall fo the shower.

“Come on, princess… take it… needed… needed this pussy all f-fucking day… fuck… oh shit… so good… need to stop teasing me, Mouse… fuck, I love this pussy… baby, not gonna last long… feel too good…”, he groaned as he relentless fucked you.

He reached down and under, finding you clit. A few short, messy rubs had your walls start to squeeze.

“Frankiebabyi’mclose!”, you howled, grabbing his hand with yours as you tried to narrow his fingers’ focus.

He hit the spot and you saw sparks. Crying out, you grabbed his shoulders, and he panted in your ear as he sloppily jacked up into you, spilling his load.

You stayed under the running water, panting hard. You finally opened your eyes and looked up at Frankie, his hair wet and a satisfied grin on his face.

“I love you.”, you said quietly, looking into his deep brown eyes.

“I love you, too.”, he said warmly.

Your precious, sweet moment was broken when you heard Santi bang on the door and yell, “That was only two times, Frankie!”

__________________________

TAGLIST:

@harryleatherfit @harriedandharassed @toxicanonymity @theywhowriteandknowthings

#pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #pedro pascal characters #frankie morales fanfiction #francisco catfish morales #pedro pascal fanfiction #chubby frankie rights !!!!!#frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal tummy #chubby!frankie eu #chubby!frankie #the catfish & the mouse #you ask beefro answers #🥩#chubby!frankie one shot

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mrstsung · 6 months

Text

Askbox: Closed. Until people send me requests instead of complaining about my posts and opinions on fictional characters.

These are what I'll write and not write.

Rules:

IF YOU ARE A MINOR,I WOULD PREFER IF YOU DO NOT REQUEST NSFW WORKS. thank you. I am 18+ and I'm trying to make this a better and safer blog.

For recently, i have decided to not make any x reader fics and hcs for other people for the character shang tsung. I do not wish to share this particular character. So he is off limits. But anyone else is fine.

I do not post often here so apologizes if i dont get to anything right away.

My main blog is @arttrampbelle . I do post there but im trying to post here again more. For mortal kombat stuff

If you have any questions or concerns let me know

I don't do mk12/mk(1) 2023. So plz do not ask for that. I can do truly any other version. Sorry. I can maybe make a hybrid or my own version but it wont be like the actual game so of you're fine with that i could maybe make it work but i would very much rather do mk9,mk10,mk11,mk 1995,and mk legends.

I write hcs and imagines mostly. Full length fics are harder for my nurodivergent brain to do.

*added* i can write my own verse of mk12/mk1 shang tsung. But again i won't be writing him for anyone else,just myself or hc ideas. So if you wanna hear about them. I can do that. But sadly no x readers anymore of him. Again this is a personal choice.

Characters i will do:

Liu kang

Kung lao

Raiden

Fujin

Kuai liang (SUB ZERO/TUNDRA)

Hanzo hasashi(THE ONLY SCORPION!)

Bi-han(NOOB SAIBOT AND OG SUBZERO)

Reptile(lizardman look only because y'all cowards. Im not sorry)

Shao kahn

Johnny cage

Jax

Kabal

Kano

Erron black

Sindel

Kitana

Jade

Mileena

Goro

Kintaro

Sheeva

Quan chi(yes even him)

Shinnok(tho im not as good with him so plz bare with me)

Characters i won't do,things i can't do:

Any of the other elder gods besides shinnok because im not as good with them. So apologies.

Any of this titan nonsense. They don't exist to me. Sorry.

Shang tsung. He's my blorbo. And i have decided to not share or write for him anymore. So i really do apologize but i can't trust writing for other people with this character. I wanna write and self ship with this character in peace. So plz do not request any writing with shang tsung from now on. All my writing,art,kontent, for shang will be exclusively for myself only.

I do not write god liu kang(unless a corruption arch au idea?) Nor write him as some savior. You get the real chosen one or nothing at all.

I do not do character x character. I do not do anything outside of self shipping or character x reader or canon x oc/self inserts. So plz do not ask for this.

I do not write smut for minors. You can request fluff or sfw kontent only.

If you have something specific in mind,plz be as detailed as possible. Otherwise i will more likely do a in general thing

I write mostly GN and fem readers. I am not as good with masc readers yet. So apologies.

If you again have any questions. Let me know.

Ask box:closed

#mortal kombat #self ship #self shipping #shang tsung #💚heart and soul🐍#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat x readers #rules #ask box is open #ask box

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urfavenarrator · 1 year

Text

COMMISSIONS:

This is an NWLNW blog, and I will not write Fem reader

CxR and CxC

Note: it can takes me about 2-4 days to write fanfic because of work and it can be longer if I already have other requests. Also any minors I have on my commission page will be aged up to +18, I do write for female charecter but I do not write X Fem reader

Note 2: if it's not on here feel free to ask and please feel free to add every detail you want; it's your request I won't judge but I will publicly kink shame you

Will do's:

MLM

T4T

NbLM

NSFW

BDSM

Exhibitionism

Dirty talk

Humiliation

Wax play

Stigmatophilia

Ropework

Knife Play

Degradation kink

Praise kink

Impact play

Auralism

Exhibitionism

Body worship

Oral fixation

Asphyxiation

Deapthroating

Overstim

Edging

Muscle worship

Masks

Pillow princess/prince

Face fucking

Cockwarming

Toys

Brat taming

Forecd in to submission

Breeding

Smuff

Comfort sex

Monster fucking/loving

SFW+Random

Age gap (both parties must be adults)

Age ups

Au's

Hurt/comfort

Angst

Fluff

Charecter x reader

Charecter x Charecter

Mental age regression

Won't do's:

Underage

FEM READER

Certain kinks

Furries

Beastiality

Insest

People from ohio

Rape

Fandoms:

TWD(show)

Daryl Dixion

Rick Grimes

Carl Grimes

Negan Smith

Enid

Connie

Rosita

Ron Anderson

TlOU(game + HBO)

Joel Miller

Tess Servopoulos

Ellie Williams

Tommy Miller

Apex legends

Everyone (except pathfinder)

Overwatch

Everyone (except Hammon???, and winston)

Cod

Ghost

Soap

Valerie

Price

Graves

Rudy

König

Horangi

Nikto

Rainbow six

Everyone

A way out

Leo

Vincent

DbD

All survivors

All killers(except Victor and Pinhead)

The thing

R.J.

Windows

Sam

TCM

Bubba sawyer

Nubbins sawyer

Johnny sawyer(slaughter?)

L.G McPeters

Sissy sawyer

Thomas Hewitt

Slashers

Michael myers

Billy Loomis

Stu matcher

Braums

Jason

Mortal kombat

Reptile

Johnny cage

Kenshi

Subzero(bi-han)

Subzero(kuai liang)

Scorpion(kuai liang)

Smoke

Baraka

Kitana

Mileena

Sheeva

Resident evil

Leon

Chris

Clair

Carlos

Jill

Ashley

Luis

Rebecca

Wesker

Ada

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

ice lolly, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: You (accidentally?) deep throat a popsicle in front of Min Yoongi. It's not what it looks like! Well, it kinda is, but you have a good reason! You just want to give your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin, a mind-blowing blowjob and you read some stuff online and, uh... okay, that still doesn't sound like a good reason, but I swear it is.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; established relationship; featuring seagull-BTS LOL; crack and fluff; smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral); ft Min Yoongi witnessing your, um, attempt XD; my tongue technology strikes again, maybe you'll learn something?

this is inspired by your hapless adventures, cat whiskers. you told me not to do it, but I'm a brat and I did it anyway LMAO get rekt

So.

You read this thing online.

What if you just...

"What are you doing?"

You started with a shriek, jamming the entire ice lolly right into the back of your throat, instantly choking and yanking it out of your mouth, only for it to be flung off the wooden stick and fly across the sidewalk, leaving a long, ice-blue streak of melting sugar syrup ending with a demolished hunk of discarded popsicle.

A seagull immediately appeared to peck at it.

You gawked, still clutching the wooden stick, Min Yoongi standing beside the bench you were sitting on.

"Why did you try to deep throat your popsicle?"

A second seagull arrived to peck at the icy hunk of sugar water.

Your mouth was still open, mechanically jerking to face him with fire-red cheeks, and it wasn’t because of the bright sunny weather. He looked very much like a disgruntled cat with his expression, black eyebrow raised, dark brown eyes narrowed, pink lips slightly pursed. Yoongi squinted disapprovingly from under his wide-brimmed straw hat. He wore a long-sleeved black shirt under a white t-shirt, breezy black trousers, and sandals.

Yoongi hated the sun.

A third seagull flapped down onto the boardwalk and joined the other two to poke at the rapidly melting mess on the ground.

"Um..."

He raised a hand dismissively, eyes flicking away from you. "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't want to know." Yoongi jammed his black clutch under his armpit and ripped open his own cold sweet treat, turning away from you to face the ocean.

A fourth seagull flocked over to peck one of them in the head and assist in devouring the ice pop.

"Hey, hyung, what flavor did you get?" a smooth baritone voice piped, appearing in an aqua-and-pink colorful shirt and brown shorts with snazzy sunglasses and tan skin.

You were staring at the four seagulls eating your ice lolly with glee, somewhat frozen yourself, feeling a mixture of jealous, mortified, and absolutely ready to chuck yourself into the ocean if Yoongi said anything to out you to Kim Taehyung right now.

"I don't know. I told them to pick one at random," the straw hat replied.

A fifth seagull appeared, slightly smaller than the rest, poking one in the neck and squawking before trying to prod at the puddle of blue syrup with a small chunk of ice in it.

"I got strawberry," Taehyung replied.

Two more seagulls swooped down, pushing the other five all around. All of them were now pecking at the ice-blue sugar syrup, honking and squawking. Like laughter. One of the seagulls had a weird cry, like a cloth rubbed onto wet glass.

Or a windshield wiper on a car window.

"Disgusting."

You narrowed your eyes at the seven seagulls.

We they... laughing at you?

"Strawberry-flavored things are the worst."

You jumped as someone sat down next to you, ripping open a paper package. He was wearing a short-sleeved pale pink dress shirt with a flashy tie and long blue shorts. A familiar someone dressed like this. He placed his backpack down next to you, smiling brilliantly. Full lips, sparkling brown eyes, milk chocolate-colored locks framing his handsome face.

Your boyfriend, Kim Seokjin.

"S-Seokjin!"

He grinned and leaned in, kissing you lightly. Then he became flustered and laughed awkwardly, a little squeaky, almost like a windshield wiper on a car window.

"Hah, sorry, you looked really cute just now."

You blinked rapidly.

Do you tell your boyfriend that you tried to deep throat your ice lolly in attempt to see if you could extend your tongue around the bottom because you read on a certain-website-not-to-be-named that it might be possible to suck dick and lick balls at the same time and you were determined to learn so you could perform said act?

And do you tell Seokjin that Min Yoongi caught you in the middle of it?

Er…

Seokjin cheerfully licked at his lemon ice pop, oblivious to your inner struggle.

"Where's yours? I thought you got one too?"

The seven seagulls cackled. You glared at them, ready to fight.

"Hyung."

Never mind, you paled to the color of rice paper as the deep voice with a little rasp to it appeared beside Seokjin, straw hat and all. You wished you could merge with your pastel floral summer dress and float off with the sea breeze, straight into the ocean after seeing the deadpan expression of Min Yoongi holding a mint green popsicle.

He looked bored, but his eyes were mocking you.

Asshole.

"She dropped it by accident."

"Ah, really?" Seokjin frowned, nudging you with his hand. "Here, have some of mine. I'll share with you." He wrapped his arm around you and patted your shoulder fondly, holding his ice lolly out to you. You felt your heart skip a little at his kindness and closeness.

Yoongi smirked behind Seokjin's head.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

The seven seagulls flapped off, flying above five guys standing near you three, eating icy sweet treats together on the boardwalk this sunny day, enjoying this nice retreat to the sea. A lone seagull popped out from behind a trashcan, trotting over, eyeing the wet spot of sugar syrup soaked into asphalt.

It slunk away in a back corner, dejected that there was nothing left.

"Come on, hurry before it melts."

You nibbled off a chunk. Mmm. Cold, lemony, and delicious. You smiled at Seokjin gratefully and he smiled back, warm and inviting, his cheeks puffing a little like the edges of raised bread. A little sheepish at the public display of affection, but unable to help it when he was with you.

"You might as well stick the whole thing in your mouth," Yoongi said off-handedly, walking away to the group of five guys, leaving you choking on the bench again as Seokjin rubbed your back soothingly, worriedly asking you what was wrong.

"YOU TRIED TO DEEP THROAT A POPSICLE?"

"Seokjinnie–"

"IN FRONT OF YOONGI?"

"Erm, it's not what it sounds like–"

"YOONGI???????"

“I swear it’s not what It sounds like!”

Seokjin yanked the towel off his head, half-dried brown hair sticking up every which way, gawping at you with a slack jaw and shocked brown eyes. He was wearing his emerald green silk pajamas, fresh after a nice shower from the hot day. You too, wore a set of pajamas, a matching outfit with Seokjin.

“It’s not what it sounds like?” he sputtered, flabbergasted, partly flabbered but mostly aghast.

You opened your mouth and closed it. Then you opened it again.

“Okay, it is what it sounds like, but–!”

Why did you bring this up now? Well, your boyfriend was asking you if you wanted to take some medicine and sleep early because you said you weren’t feeling well at dinner. He was a sweet bean and wanted the best for you, and the truth came out in mid-discussion. Seokjin and you had left earlier than everyone else, declining the scenic walk home, mostly because you could no longer stand Yoongi making snide remarks that meant nothing to anyone else except you.

“You might need a bit more force to suck up that thick milkshake. Or wait for it to melt.”

“That’s a pretty big piece of steak. Maybe you should cut it a bit smaller, so you don’t choke.”

“You sure you don’t want to stay for dessert? We could stop by the store and get you an ice lolly on our way home.”

You glared at him all evening.

Yoongi just smirked when Seokjin wasn’t looking.

Asshole.

“Why would you do that in public?” Seokjin was saying, yanking you back to reality and out of your daydreams of socking that smug little shit in the face. “Why would you do that at all?”

“G-Gah, it… it just… just occurred to me…”

“It occurred to you to suck an ice lolly like a dick?”

Seokjin looked as if he was going to pass out and divorce you at the same time and you weren’t even married yet.

“Why, because you’re going to suck frozen dick at some point in your life? Because my dick isn’t ever at subzero temperatures, so unless you’re sucking Mr. Freeze or Subzero’s dick–”

You waved your arms in a panicky manner, flapping your sleeves like a fucking seagull. “No, no, no, I read something online–”

“Oh, you read something online!” he exclaimed, wiggling in place, and now it sure as hell sounded like Kim Seokjin was mocking you while also being disappointed in you and if that wasn’t the most big dad energy you weren’t sure what was. “Yes, because that totally means you should perform fellatio on an ice pop in front of Yoongi of all fucking people! Are you trying to get bronchitis or something–”

“I admit it was a mistake!”

“A miss-take! It was a terrible take! Cut! Refilm! Actually, no, because maybe don’t try to give a blowjob to a fucking popsicle at the boardwalk in broad daylight!”

You smacked Seokjin in the chest and he looked highly offended, finally shutting up for one goddamn second so you could (poorly) explain your logic behind the incident.

“Look, Yoongi was not supposed to be there. At all. I got mine first and you all were deciding and arguing, so I decided to sit down and eat it, but then I noticed it was a specific length–”

Seokjin’s eyebrows rose so high they nearly left his face.

You prodded him in the pecs and he winced, pouting at you.

“So, I tried to put it in my mouth, but then Yoongi showed up and fucking spooked me and I jabbed myself in the throat because I was surprised and ended up rocket-launching my ice lolly across the sidewalk and then these fucking seagulls showed up, those bastards–”

“None of this explains why you tried to do it in the first place.”

“Uh…”

Your eyes shifted awkwardly.

Seokjin impatiently tapped his naked wrist that had no watch on it.

“I read it… in an online smut story I was reading…”

You perfectly handsome boyfriend might actually get a wrinkle if he continued to raise his eyebrows to the fucking moon. “You do what?”

You poked your index fingers together, biting your lip. “Because… I’m not very good at it… so I was thinking maybe I could learn some tips or something…”

“What?”

Now his voice was soft, immediately dropping the act and his anger. You saw him reach out and place his hand over yours, wrapping his fingers around tightly, tugging. You looked up and he tilted his head, brow knitted in worry.

“Hey,” Seokjin frowned, full lower lip sticking out. “What do you mean, you’re not good at it? You are. I like everything you do.”

You chewed on your lip anxiously. “But… but…” It was a stupid thought and, honestly, not that big of a deal, but it had been eating away at you for a while, so you just winced and let it out.

“You never finish with my mouth.”

Rapid blinking was his response. His eyebrows disappeared under his brown hair again.

“And it bothers me. You always finish with your hand into my mouth, but I can’t seem to do it by myself.”

Seokjin’s lips parted, looking apologetic. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner?”

You wrung your hands, loosening his grip on you. “I don’t know, it seems weird to say in the moment and it’s embarrassing… I thought maybe I wasn’t good enough…”

“No, no,” he said gently, holding your shoulders and shaking his head. “I...” His ears turned bright red and he swallowed. “I just like… seeing it shoot out into your mouth.” He coughed awkwardly, squeezing your shoulders. “It’s, er, nice, watching my cum drip onto your tongue and lips…” Seokjin cleared his throat and smiled, cheeks puffing out, looking a bit like the sides of freshly baked bread. “I didn’t realize my selfishness was making you feel inadequate. That’s not it at all. I only wanted to make it easier on you, and, cough, it’s kind of hot…”

“O… oh.”

He patted your shoulder fondly. “It’s only a misunderstanding. We can do whatever you want next time, okay? I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I will do better.”

You nodded and smiled, feeling much more relieved about the whole thing. Seokjin always had the ability to help you let things go, and it always made you feel a little lighter. It was part of the past now and you wouldn’t be bothered if Yoongi teased you any longer, because you had the best boyfriend in the whole world. There was no need to feel embarrassed.

You wrapped your arms around Seokjin and gave him a big, fierce hug.

Only to be impaled in the lower stomach.

“Ow!”

“Ack!”

You jerked back, whipping your head down.

“No, no, no, stop! Stop looking!”

“Why are you hard?!”

Seokjin waved his arms and abruptly flapped his hands down on his massive tent. “We were talking about blowjobs! And you! What do you think is going to happen?” he spluttered, the red creeping from his ears to his cheeks now, matching the exact shades used on merchandise during Christmas time with emerald green pajamas and a red face.

You gawked at him and he gawked back.

Wait.

“This is a perfect chance!”

“No, no, no, it is not, cease and desist, woman! Everyone is coming back soo–Gah!”

There was flurry of movement and Seokjin’s pajama pants were flung off, along with his shirt, and you were pushing him down onto the bed, him panicking the entire time, but he couldn’t have been that mad about it, because he was helping you by backing up, yelping as you hooked your fingers over the waistband of his underwear and yanked down, freeing his erection that nearly slapped you in the face.

“You trying to take out my eyeball?” you teased, grinning.

“You assaulting me and you’re upset that I’m fighting back?” Seokjin retorted, trying to hide his smile and be serious, but he was terrible at that and so were you, both of you grinning like a pair of idiots.

Well, you were certainly a little bit of an idiot for trying to deep throat a – you’re right, we’ll let it go (for now).

“I learned some things,” you said excitedly, forcing his legs open abruptly and making him squeak.

“Things? Ack!”

You leaned down and lifted his hard length up delicately, licking a fat stripe from base to tip, sighing softly as you came into contact with the velvety skin and his clean scent, Seokjin gasping above you, but suddenly this was not about him, this was about the cock in front of you and all the information you had complied to this point, ready to apply your learning. You wrapped your lips around the head, swiping your tongue on the underside, and Seokjin groaned, hips twitching but you grabbed them and pressed them firmly to the bed, shooting him a glare.

“Don’t interrupt me,” you growled around his dick.

He gave you a helpless frown. “Hello, I’m still attached to this di–”

You stared at him and slid your tongue out from your lips, swirling it around his girth, pressing the sensitive tip around the contours of your mouth, his eyes widening as he witnessed spit dripping from the wet muscle.

“O… oh…”

You let your eyes drift over his form, slowly, slowly, savoring the lines of his body, broad shoulders, shapely collarbones, the curve downwards to his trim waist, all the while taking him your mouth, tongue and lips soft and mouth tight, breathing deeply, eyes flickering up to his face and his expanding pupils, watching you with awe.

“Holy shit… and you’re not even naked… o-oh, fuck…”

You cocked an eyebrow, probably looking much more confident than you actually felt, but that didn’t matter. Fake it till you make it, right? And besides, every protagonist in every story has a moment of letting go and having courage and this was your moment, inorganic or not, flexing your tongue against Seokjin’s ever stiffening length, his breathing turning into wispy moans, watching you poised over him with his dick in your mouth, still wearing the silk pajamas and yet.

He watched you with amazement, love and lust in his brown orbs.

“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”

Your ears burned hot and you tried not to choke on his dick in embarrassment.

Don’t ruin the moment!

Somehow you managed not to freak out and pressed your lips to the base of his cock, hitting his crotch, the uncomfortable feeling of too full expanding your throat, the head practically plugging your airway, but one glance at Seokjin and the suffocation was worth it, seeing him tip his head back, messy brown hair sliding past his forehead, groaning your name with his eyes closed.

You pulled back a little, took a breath, and went back down for the kill.

“What the fuck…?”

Lower lip opening, tongue stretching out, only able to move the tip a bit at the top of his balls. Hm. This wasn’t working. You adjusted and cupped a hand under them, lifting the two soft mounds and pressing them to your chin, your tongue swiping out over them, his dick bending a little in your mouth (more flexible and a lot warmer than an ice lolly, by the way), and Seokjin was losing it above you, shuddering and whining, a mix of curses and your name as you turned your head to get a different angle, the tip of his cock pushed to one side of your throat, determined to see what was most comfortable and got you the best reaction, saliva coating his balls and causing them to become more slippery. You furrowed your brows and gripped his balls tighter, smearing the slick liquid over the soft skin and Seokjin moaned obscenely loudly, falling onto the bed, back arching.

“Oooh, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Abruptly, your throat spasmed, reminding you that needed to breathe, and you pulled back, coughing and panting slightly.

“Does that feel good?” you wheezed. Not the sexiest. You grimaced and cleared your throat, asking again. “Did that feel good for you?”

Seokjin tipped his head up, brown eyes glazed over, breathing hard. “Ah… It feels nice, but I don’t think I could finish with that…” Your frown deepened, but he shook his head, sending his brown hair floating everywhere. “It’s not tight enough. But it’s an insane turn on, so I think I could cum faster after…” He coughed, cheeks flushing. “After feeling and seeing it, you know?”

Your frown erased and you nodded, gently rubbing his soaked balls, seeing him shiver and his breathing shallow. “I think I understand, yeah.”

“Can… ah, can you finish me, p-please, ack, you k-keep – fuuuuuuuck…”

You went down again, but this time your focus was on the tightness of your mouth, tongue sliding from side to side, bobbing your head in a smooth, swift motion, keeping your lips soft, eyes closing as you felt his cock twitch inside your mouth, completely focused on the sensation of Seokjin in between your lips, breathing him in, the soft scent of fresh soap and his sweetness, trying to remember if there was anything you had forgotten.

Ah, yes!

You tipped your head back slightly and Seokjin cried out, heady and erotic, as the head of his cock dragged along the roof of your mouth before burying into your throat, over and over, hot saliva and a squirming tongue amplifying the sensation, realizing you needed to relax your throat but clench your mouth muscles while relaxing your lips and doing all this while keeping track of where his cock was going in your mouth so you didn’t accidentally choke on his dick.

A whole new level of multitasking.

Was the writer of that erotica you were reading some kind of sex god, because what the fuck–

But it didn’t matter, because even if it was sloppy and you couldn’t focus on all these things simultaneously, Seokjin was feeling only pleasure, fingers curling in the sheets, barely able to choke out his words through his moans.

“F-Faster, please…”

Faster? You could barely keep up as it was!

“Please…” he whined and you obeyed immediately, faster it was, because you were weak for him, weak for Kim Seokjin and his pleading face, pupils so blown out he seemed intoxicated, drunk on pleasure, and that made you aroused too, seeing your effect of him, tightening ever more and increasing the pace, the wet smacking sounds quickening, echoing in the bedroom with his lustful groans of your name, so sweet and loving that if you weren’t going to pass out from how fast you were going, you were surely going to pass out from the overwhelming adoration in his eyes. It made you push for a little bit more, push your limits a little harder, made you feel like you could do this.

For him.

“Oh, fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

Seokjin gripped the sheets tight and threw his head back, chest expanding with a low moan, thrusting his hips up and cock jolting, shooting thick streams into your throat, and your eyes widened, forced to stop, feeling his cum pool, creamy and viscous, tasting the delicious saltiness at the base of your tongue, your eyelids fluttering a little at the feeling of the tip rutting against the roof of your mouth and more dribbling out, coating the inside of your mouth.

Oh.

Oooh, fuck, it felt good.

You swallowed, feeling victorious and insanely horny, tongue circling round and round his flinching stiffness, able to sense the pulse and his shudders, descending again because you couldn’t get enough, so good, the feeling of him still in your mouth, him shivering at your persistent licks and light sucks, stroking his hips and moaning at the skin to skin.

The front door banged open downstairs and there was a lot of laughing and shouting.

Your eyes snapped open and Seokjin looked back at you in sheer panic.

The footsteps up the stairs proved they were being taken two at a time.

“Shit.”

Never had Seokjin yanked his cock so fast out of your lips (sad) and snatched his underwear and pajamas, bolting to the bathroom and throwing himself in there in record time the literal second the bedroom door was yanked open by rambunctious strength and a grin whose front teeth were ever-so-slightly too large for his face.

“Hyung, noona!”

You were laying with your head in your hand and your elbow on the bed, which was probably too sexual and weird for Jeon Jungkook, but that was all you got that this moment. He gave you a slightly disturbed and confused look under his big black bucket hat.

“Where’s hyung?”

You coughed and lowered your hand, trying to get in a less awkward position. “B-bathroom…” you rasped. Oh no. Did you go too hard? You sounded a bit like the crypt keeper. Fortunately, you didn’t look like one, so there was that. You rubbed your throat, wincing at the soreness. You definitely went a bit rough. You weren’t no young spring chicken anymore. You were going to feel that in the morning.

Sacrifices had to be made.

Jungkook pouted, bounding up to you and tilting his head. He was a moving black fabric mountain with his long-sleeved shirt and billowy shorts. “Are you really sick, noona? Do you want hot tea or some milk?”

Oh my God, Jungkook, I just sucked some dick and that’s why I sound dead.

Don’t say that.

“I… I’ll be fine, Jungkook. Did you have a nice walk?”

“Oh, yeah! There were fireworks! I think the city was celebrating something, and it was so colorful and pretty…”

You sat there and nodded, trying to listen intently while trying not to think about how Seokjin was in the bathroom rinsing off his saliva and cum-covered dick literal meters from you and oblivious Jungkook.

You saw movement behind Jungkook’s excitedly bouncing head. No straw hat, just black hair flattened against his forehead, covering his cat-like, dark brown eyes.

Yoongi.

He smirked, holding up a box.

Frozen ice lollys, the fizzy soda flavor that was light blue.

A muscle in your eye twitched.

Asshole.

masterpost

#seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin x you #jin x reader #jin x you #kim seokjin x you #kim seokjin x reader

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kusagrasskusa · 3 years

Text

Masterlist~

Italic = Drafted

Underlined/Bold = Done (with link)

Normal = Soon to be started

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Little Nightmares - 2/2

The unwanted answer

Mono X Six - “Roles Reversed”

Naruto - 5/10

Kabuto X Shy! Reader - "Oppsites Attract"

Orochimaru X Innocent! Reader - "Flower Crown"

Kabuto and Child! Reader - "Shihaikigo"

Sasuke X Reader - "Sorry, Sakura"

Gaara X Innocent! Reader - "Hellfire"

Kakashi X Uchiha! Reader - "Just like Itachi"

Shikamaru X Tired! Reader - "You're worse than me"

Reader as friends with Oro and Kabuto headcannons

Yandere Itachi X Reader

Orochimaru X Reader “A Little piece of Heaven” Imagine

My Hero Academia - 5

Aizawa X Villain! Reader - "Oof"

Villain! Aizawa X Reader - "Mega Oof"

Present Mic X Reader - "I'm dying inside"

AOT AU, Reader X...: Aizawa, Bakubro, Kirishima, Denki, etc

Denki X Deaf! Blind! Reader

One Punch Man - 1/6

Saitama X Demon! Reader - "One Punch"

Saitama X Hero! Reader

Saitama X Sonic's sister! Reader

Genos X Cyborg! Reader

Genos X Saitama's sister! Reader - "If you hurt her, I'll kill you owo"

Saitama X Reader - "Hero"

Death Note - 3/3

Light X Reader - Betrayal: Part 1, Part 2

Light Comforting Reader

Hunter X Hunter - 1

Hisoka X Numb! Reader - "No fun :("

Disney - 4

Young! Claude Frollo X Reader - "Hellfire"

Humanoid! Scar X Reader - "Be Prepared"

Jafar X Reader

Shan Yu X Hun! Reader

Mortal Kombat - 17/23

Kano X Reader - "Unfaithful"

Hanzo Hisashi X Reader Imagines

Subzero and Child Reader, X Innocent Reader

Hanzo Hisashi X Innocent! Reader

Shang Tsung X Goddess! Reader - “Offering”

Quan Chi X Reader - “His Daughter’s Diary”

Fujin X Reader

MK Villain Imagines- Part 1, Part 2

Kabal X Reader

White Lotus X Angel Child! Reader

Reptile X Reader Angst

Kronika X GN Reader headcannons

Shitty Erron Black X Innocent! Reader headcannons

Kung Lao X Reader Prompt 23

Kitana X Reader Prompt 23

Baraka X Innocent! Reader

Quan Chi X Reader - Shitty Headcannons

Mortal Kombat Villians hearing/fighting their kid, opening scenes- Part 1,

Part 2 ^

Erron Black X Reader - “You’re gonna be a daddy”

Reptile X Reader

D’Vorah X Fem! Reader Headcannons

Raiden with S/O who died… :(

Quan Chi X Reader Imagine

Creepypasta/Marble Hornets - 2/4

Ticci Toby X Reader

Masky X Reader - "Suffocated"

Jeff the Killer X Reader - "Snowing"

Eye for an Eye, ‘Til the World goes Blind - Intro, Cha1, Cha 2, Cha 3, Cha 4, Cha 5, Cha

Slashers - 2/8

Michael Myers X Short! Reader: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Michael Myers X Nurse! Reader - "Addition"

Michael Myers X Murderer! Reader - "Card of Death": Part 1, Part 2

Michael Myers and Child Reader ANGST - Remastered

Jason X Child! Reader X Michael Myers - Remaster of PT1, Pt2

Predator reacting to his ooman with dyed hair and normal ripped clothes

Billy Loomis X Reader

Brahms X Reader

Happy Tree Friends - 2

Human! Flippy X Reader - "Wholesome Vibes"

Human! Fliqpy X Reader - "Not-so Wholesome Vibes"

Undertale - 2/8

Ink X Reader - "Another Unfinished Project"

Error X Reader - "Another Waste of Space"

Dust X Reader - "Defensive Fighting only"

Underfell Sans X Tired! Reader - "Boss is gonna kill me-"

Frisk X Genocidal! Reader - "Just as Bad"

Chara X Neutral! Reader - "Not so Bad"

Ariel X Genocidal! Reader - "I'm not your best friend"

Underfell Sans X Reader - "Brompton Cocktail"

Yandere Simulator - 4

Kaga X Reader

Umeji X Reader - "Two Sides of the Same Coin"

Gema X Weeb! Reader - "Why are you interupting me!"

Budo Masuta X Delinquent! Reader

Obey Me! - 3

Mammon X Reader

Asmodues X Reader

Beezelbub X Reader

Potential Series' - 4

AU where Itachi and Sasuke switch roles, and Sasuke abandons Sarada for Itachi to raise as he's going blind

Kabuto, Reader, and Orochimaru as friends going on multiple fights

Reader is thrown into a cliche fanfiction about her favorite anime and only speaks English, so she has to learn Japanese while trying to survive basically on her own

My OCs X CCs...Shang Tsung, Kabuto, and Aizawa are best bois....

Oneshots that don't fit into a category (or isn't an X Reader) - 4

L u n a X S o m b r a

Golden Freddy X Marionette

Foxy X Toy Chica (fight me)

Shadow Freddy X Marionette

366 notes · View notes

flusteredloser · 3 years

Text

subzero - beverly marsh x fem!reader

it fandom week: huddling for warmth

content warnings: mentions of intoxication, smoking, swearing, fire, harmless threats, inhaler abuse, enemies to lovers, also i’m making bev tall bc i love tall gals word count: 3k

at the ripe age of ten years old, you knew you wanted to become a mother. the appeal of bouncing children in your lap, tucking them into bed, and the empowering feeling of calming tantrums down was something you naively believed was your destiny. now, ten-year-old you was never wrong, you knew that. but what you didn’t expect was for your dream to come true at eighteen, stuck mothering six drunken teenage sons during a hailstorm’s power outage.

“edward. kaspbrak. i swear to god, if you do not go to sleep right now i will knock you out with your own inhaler.”

eddie groans at your words, still teeter-tottering towards the mattress. richie was already in bed, practically dead for a past half-hour.

thankfully, he didn’t wake up from his comatose state when eddie gracefully slammed headfirst into the bed. you held your breath as the bed shook under eddie’s weight. drunken eddie was already a nightmare, what more, an even worse nightmare when catalysed with richie’s antics. mike was slightly more useful. after throwing up in almost every sink in the house, he helped carry a very tipsy ben up the stairs and they were now both unconscious down the hall. bill wasn't exactly a disturbance, but he was incredibly determined to show us that he could play the piano right now if asked, that his skills were only heightened after dark. (the fact that bill had never touched a piano in his life, or that bev's apartment didn't even have a piano wasn't stopping him). bev was taking care of them in the other room, and based on the muffled conversation, was still trying to coax bill to sleep. you and bev being the losers’ designated sober pair for tonight was the worst idea that had ever occurred to anyone. ever. the eight of you agreed. if you needed something done, you’d never leave the two of you to do it together. but stan had explained that the rotation required the two of you to pair up tonight, no matter what. you didn’t quite understand the necessity of it but in all honesty, you’d rather put up with bev’s clownery than upset stan further. speaking of, you glance at the lump on the floor, peacefully swaddled and engulfed in the massive duvet. you should probably check on stan’s breathing later.

now, though, you still had one child left.

hearing the sound of an air pump go off from the bed, you walk back to eddie.

“but i’m so cold and i’m not even tired,” said eddie, his inhaler still jammed in his mouth.

“eddie, the power will be back in no time, and if you keep pumping that shit in your mouth, you’re never going to feel tired,” you sigh, taking the aspirator away.

“no, but seriously.” eddie continues, his eyes filled with sleep-deprived mania. “i swear, i’m like wide awake, i don’t even need sleep right now, it’s technically the morning and nO WHAT THE HELL-”

clutching the pump in your hand, you watch the white vapour shoot against eddie’s face. nothing but eddie’s exasperated coughing filled the room.

“i told you, i’m not afraid to use this.”

“i thought...you said...you were going to...knock me out with it,” eddie questioned between coughs.

you narrow your eyes at him, “you keep this up and i will knock you with it.”

“wow, you really are gonna make a great mother someday.” you let out a deep groan, turning to see where the new voice came from. leaning against the doorframe with a lit cigarette between her fingers was bev in all her smug glory.

“you know, after dealing with kaspbrak tonight, he makes you look like an angel,” you roll your eyes.

“hey!” you hear a muffled voice from under the blanket.

“go to sleep, pretty boy,” bev chuckles, some smoke escaping with her laugh, “i know it’s hard after seeing her troll face but you have to try.”

you rolled your eyes again at the two giggles in the room, shuffling around the bed, carefully stepping around stan’s body. you continue to walk past bev and into the hall.

the house was silent. no one lived here anymore but bev since you guys graduated, and since mr. marsh stopped residing here, the apartment had an almost peaceful quality.

walking past the guest room, you grin at the sight of mike, ben, and bill entwined together on the floor. oh, how much tamer this group would’ve been compared to the menaces next door.

you snatch your backpack from the living room sofa and dug through the pockets anxiously. searching against the walls of your bag and still finding nothing, you began to feel more and more nervous. “fucking hell, where is it,” you whisper. at this rate, you weren’t sure if the thumping in your ears was from the sound of sharp hail hitting the windows or your heart beating in your throat. you stand up in a deeper panic, aggressively patting your pockets up and down.

“you know, as entertaining as this is to watch, i almost feel bad.”

“bev..." you sigh. "i am not in the mood."

“why? too busy looking for your pack of camels?” you hear the sound of a familiar cardboard flap opening, “personally, i’m more of a marlboro girl but i mean, these work too.”

you spin around and storm up to bev, snatching the lit cigarette from her lips. “that’s mine?”

she smirks, “you left your backpack open, it was practically an invitation.”

“an invitation for you to go through my shit?” you hissed, dangling the ignited end near her face.

she snatched her cig back and mockingly dangling it back near your face, “yeah, a formal invitation for me to smoke off this monstrosity of a temperature. what do you want, an apology too? i can write you one asap, let me find bill’s notebook-”

taking the cig back once more, you snap. "you’re such an ass, bev.”

she grins, following closely behind you. she could feel the heat radiating off of your body, and she secretly hoped you’d accidentally stop in your tracks so she could run into you. in the name of transferring body heat and what not. shaking off these thoughts that were hijacking her brain, she makes a kissy sound, “c’mon, you know you love it.”

“mmhm sure, bev. because i’m really into girls stealing my shit.”

pinching the flame from the cig and dumping it in the tray, she leads the both of you into the supply closet. she chuckles as she leans against the doorway, leaving you feeling trapped in the tight room. you knew she was laughing because you insisted on going in first and now that you were the one having to get the stuff, but you didn’t quite register that the things you needed was on the top shelf. up high stood a high stack of blankets. and they looked like they could singlehandedly cure the subzero temperature.

clearly, you must have been looking up at the blankets for a moment too long because bev gave up and leaned forwards to grab the stack. the sensation of her flushed against your back was enough to make you dizzy, not to mention how absolutely warm she was. and of course... it was bev.

bev. the girl who you rolled your eyes at every day, the girl who taunts you at any given minute, the girl you would, and had, risked your life for. you guys never talk about neibolt, but sometimes you catch yourself thinking of what could have happened if it went south. if you hadn’t grabbed her in time, and if you didn’t switch places just before pennywise launched at you... absentmindedly tracing the scar down your stomach, you think of the absolute lack of regret you feel to this day. you always had this joke that you wanted to kill her, but how much of that was true?

“darling, did the cold already go and rot your brain?” bev faux-pouts, “not that there was much to begin with, but i’m still worried.” the stack of blankets was now under her arms with one stretched out as she began to wrap it around herself.

never mind. sometimes you did want to kill her.

by habit, you went on your tip toes in order to get to bev’s face, but she was already crouched a couple inches from your face. trying to keep your racing heart under wraps, you choke out a semi-convincing “don’t make me murder you, beverly.”

she grins back your serious face. "aww no, i couldn’t let you do that. the knives and other weapons are also stored up there.” she teases, slinging her arm around your shoulder and dragging you to deliver the blankets to the boys.

"oh, fuck off." you shove bev's arm off of you and walked back into richie, eddie, and stan's room. true to your word, you kneeled down to the floor and gently rolled stan’s head towards you. placing your two fingers against his pulse point, you giggle to yourself at the absurd action. if it wasn’t already obvious that he was indeed alive, he groans under you, but you shush him in time. lightly stroking his curls, you whisper. "i’m just checking up on you, stan,” placing the second blanket onto him. he groaned back.

quietly tip-toeing towards the bed, you tossed the other blanket over richie and eddie. “i swear, these guys would be dead already without us.” you laugh to yourself.

a dim light flickers from the living room and casts a light across the hall. you shut the door behind you as you leave, going into the living room to see bev on the sofa, engulfed in her own large fleece blanket. the only thing peeking out was her face and hands as her she alternated flickering her lighter's warmth on her fingers.

without thinking, you plop by her on the sofa. “whatcha doing there, you pyro?”

“it’s getting so fucking cold,” bev half-heartedly jokes. you can see her eyebrows are furrowed in concentration, but her voice was so contradictingly soft it made your heart melt.

you extended your open hand to her and she stared at it. “blood oath part two? promise to never be sober again during a powercut?”

“i wish, and shut up. don’t play dumb with me, beverly.”

you notice the slightest tinge in her cheeks as she places her hand along with her lighter in yours. you immediately recoil at her freezing fingertips and the lighter clatters to the ground. bev rolls her eyes and shifts away, “first you want to hold my hand, secondly you’re acting like i have fucking HIV.”

“firstly, smartass, i’d still hold your hand if you had HIV-”

“aww-”

“because it’s a blood-borne pathogen so unless you bleed or shit or lactate on my hand, i’m safe.”

bev’s face scrunches up. “how romantic.”

“now shut it and give me your hand already.” you say, placing your palm out for her again.

now bev is the one rolling her eyes at you for a change. she gives you her hand, much slower this time though, careful not to have you pull away again. not having you pull away? why was this something she was considering?

immediately, bev felt the heat from your skin radiate against hers’, instantly igniting her skin in goosebumps. she instinctively gave you her other hand and you take with a soft smile.

“now...why the hell are you built like a goddamn radiator.” bev grumbled, rubbing her hands together under yours.

“well, i don’t see you complaining, do i?” you raise your eyebrows.

“i’m not mad...it’s just that it’s not like you need it,” bev says between chuckles, “you’re like five feet tall. not exactly a lot of surface area to heat up.”

“you’re such a dick, bev. you’re losing your hand-holding privileges,” you side-eye, pulling your warm fingers away.

she gasped, “oh, don’t you dare.”

“yes, i do. it’s not like i’m dying to feel your freezing hands on me, bev.” you desperately try to make the statement sound as sarcastic as you can, but it ends up coming out much shakier than expected.

even in the dark, you can see the glint of bev’s mischievous grin. “oh really? you don’t want to feel my freezing hands?” “is that a trick question?” you sigh exasperatedly, “because if you as much as-”

suddenly, you feel bev’s ice-cold fingers press against the skin on your ribcage and you immediately squeal. you clamp your hand over your mouth at the scare, you try and contain the others sounds that escape you as she further presses her freezing hands against your warm skin. scrambling away from her grasp, you slap the back of her head.

“you stop that right now or i will leave you on your own porch to freeze,” you threaten through gritted teeth.

“mmhm, like you would.” she teases, continuing to press the pads of her still-cold fingertips into your stomach.

you felt your heart rate rise significantly, to the point that you were sure that your unknown warmness was actually due to bev making the blood pump 10x more than normal. every braincell swimming inside your head was on the brink of short-circuiting at the feeling of bev’s hands dancing along the edge of your bra. what the hell is she thinking?

after a couple more rounds of her threatening to freeze your midriff and you threatening to crack open a window, you both surrender and allow her keep her hands clasped between yours, resting atop your chest.

“are you not getting any warmer?” you groan, forcing yourself to snap out of your own feelings.

“hey, you’re the hot-pack here. do you think i’m feeling any warmer?” she goes back to press her freezing palms against your stomach.

“no, no, no, do not do that again.”

bev sighs, “then what the hell am i supposed to do?” she sits upright and tightens the blanket around her head. shifting away from you, she shivers her way back into the other end of the sofa. “i’m dressed in triple the layers you are, moved around way more than you have, i’m even wearing this gigantic fleece eyesore-”

“oh for fuck’s sake just come back here.” you roll your eyes.

bev moves about an inch closer.

you feel your heart constrict in your chest and you let yourself say it before you could think it any further, “i said, come here.” you lift one of your arms and gesture for her to come closer. scooting your body near to the end of the sofa, it was clear that the space you made was so she could easily crawl in next to you.

“are- are you... you want me to-”

you’re sure your whole face has gone red. bev she already can’t stand you so why not just make it even more awkward, huh? you bit your tongue gently, calming yourself down. if bev didn’t know that you offered to cuddle with her just because you could, then that was her fault for being so daft. you sigh, resuming back into your deadpan state. “yeah, i can’t listen to another minute of your whinging.”

“no, i heard you, i just-” she stammers, looking equally red herself. you feel a huge tiny sense of pride as you realised you’ve rendered bev speechless. beverly marsh. speechless.

“what are you waiting for?” you tease, “a formal invitation?”

having the upper hand for once was refreshing, if not thrilling. being the one to tease her and watch her become flustered was something you wish could happen more often.

bev’s face breaks out in the softest smile you’ve ever seen. she slowly makes her way over to you, shifting her body close to yours without touching you yet. “is that too much to ask for? a formal invitation?” you let out an unexpected genuine laugh at her silliness and bev giggles in unison. this was different than your default laughter made of semi-amusement and sarcasm. she rests her weight against you, her cheek gently pressing into your collarbone. her fingertips resume their spot against the flushed skin of your stomach and your own cheeks turn red again. there wasn’t a functional reason for her to do that anymore.

“stop that before i regret this, bev.”

“there’s no way in hell you regret this.” she grins, followed by the faintest whisper of an “i sure don’t.”

you were about to reply and perhaps mention how you’d be okay with her falling asleep in your arms, that you could tolerate such juvenile behaviour. you know, in the name of public health and safety, but bev beats you to it.

“just let me warm up here for ten minutes, alright. then you can let go and i’ll sleep on my side right after,” she rushes out.

that wasn’t how you thought it was going to know. your heart sinks slightly at her words but you try not to take it personally. what else could you do? it was almost like a wake-up call, reminding the both of you that this wasn’t normal for you and bev.

after a minute or so, you found yourself absentmindedly weaving your fingers through bev’s auburn hair, gently combing it with your hands like you did earlier with stan. “you have such soft hair,” you whisper against her hair.

you hear her mumble against the blanket indistinguishably and you find yourself closing your eyes at the vibrations of her voice against you. if only bev wanted to stay here like this and this feeling between the two of you could last more than the next ten minutes. you let your eyelids drift down momentarily, and you smile at the thought.

just a couple minutes later, your mind jolts back awake, and your heart sinks at the thought of having to wake her up so she could move to her side of the sofa and sleep. you reach over to feel the ends of her hair between your fingers again, grounding yourself to this feeling one last time before bev had to wake up. once you peel your eyes open however, you immediately shut them against the bright light shining at you. was richie planning on abducting y’all in the middle of the night again? gently prying your eyes open for the second time, you notice the light is shining from the window. you sigh in relief.

wait. the window?

your eyes shoot open fully. the hail had stopped. and it’s day time.

snapping your head down to bev, you take in her figure still fit snugly into your side. her free arm rests across your chest, her legs were entwined with yours. ...and her electric blue eyes stare right into you. your heart instantly jumps into your throat as you scramble for excuses, fuck, anything that would keep you from explaining yourself.

instead, she shifts her body upwards so she’s fit even tighter against your side, placing her face into the crook of your neck. her lips were right at your pulse point, sending your mind spiralling at the thought that she could probably feel how fast your heart was beating right now. her lips move against your skin, saying something barely above a whisper.

“you tell anyone about this and i’ll fucking end you.”

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