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writing-in-the-impala · 4 months

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Secret Smokes (Part 10)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2960

A/N: A lovely human asked me today if this fic is over and I thought damn I got to update quick before I lose all my readers. Hope 2024 is treating you all well, here's to the first post of the year!

| SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 10, Next Chapter

You opened your eyes scanning the room you're in, first you saw the curtains shut. Clothes neatly pilled on the side, a messy stack of books and parchment. Then you turned around and saw the back of Remus's head as he slept peacefully. Thoughts of guilt, lust and memories flooded your head. You began to think whether he regrets last night, was it just a drunk mistake, what do you say to him when he wakes up. You felt him move and turn towards you, on his face a gentle smile. "Morning dear, how'd you sleep?" He asked and kissed your forehead.

"Really well, you?" He scooped you closer with his arms to his chest.

"Let's ignore the conversation we have to have now and just savour this moment." He whispered while cuddling close to you.

"I like that idea." You replied breathing in his smell. Your heart felt full and you felt so comfortable like this was the place you were waiting to be your whole life, and he didn't seem to regret it but rather welcome it.

"Now dear would you like some coffee? Breakfast?" He asked softly not letting you go.

"What a gentleman." You joked in return.

"I try my best." He said with a wink before kissing the top of your head and standing up, he put on a T-shirt and his trousers from last night. "I'll start making the coffee, rest as long as you want."

You lay there in naked confusion and bliss, you were happy but you were confused. You had no idea how you will face him in class after waking up in his bed. You got out of bed putting on yesterdays clothes and grabbing one of Remus's sweaters for warmth before making your way down to the kitchen. The room smelt of coffee, Remus looked younger for a moment with messy hair and wearing no socks on the cold floor as he made coffee. He turned around with a smile. "Good morning, nice jumper." He said with a wink. He winked a lot you noted, maybe he was just as nervous as you right now. "Do you like it with milk or black?" He asked.

"Splash of milk please, no sugar." You confirmed and he followed your instructions and handed it to you. "Perfect thank you."

"Care to join me on the roof for a smoke and coffee? Then we can think of breakfast plans." He said walking towards the stair case and you followed. You sat down side by side on two chairs, it was cold but you didn't mind. "You know this has always been my guilty pleasure, coffee and a cig the morning after, I thought it made me cool." He admitted looking out onto London.

"It makes you look cold, I'm not sure if cool is the right word." You said and he laughed lightly to response, shaking his head.

"It used to calm my nerves because I wasn't sure what to do with a girl in the morning after, how guys are meant to act, so I figured out to start my mornings with a smoke and conversation, not that this is a common occurrence."

"What you don't sleep with your students often?" you joked to ease your discomfort about this whole situation.

"I don't sleep with anyone often, especially students."

"Why?"

"Because they're my students and I have somewhat of a professional-" You interrupted him by saying "No I mean why don't you sleep with people often."

"Y/N you know what I am."

"So?"

"So, being around me, close to me is not only dangerous but also a burden to a persons life. Therefore I've found it's better to focus on solitude and not burden anyone else who I may possibly care for. Y/N I am not a man I am-" You once again cut in to stop Remus Lupin from his usual self-loathing pit. "I'm hungry."

He quickly checked his watch "We could go to a bakery about 5 minutes away they should be open, we can grab some pastries if you'd like."

"What time is it?" You asked in fear.

"Half past nine, why do you need to be somewhere?" He asked with a slight painful tang behind his voice.

"The Weasleys, I was meant to be staying there. I need to go before they all wake up." You said leaving your coffee and heading down to Remus's bedroom, Remus followed you down.

"I'm sure you'll be okay, just tell them you fell asleep on the sofa." He tried to calm you as you put on your jacket and gathered your belongings.

"No, I'll never hear the end of this. Molly will kill me." You said in panic.

"Y/N you're an adult they'll understand, just stay finish your coffee, I can write to Molly that you are here." He said placing a hand on your shoulder to calm you.

"I'm sorry Remus I don't want to run like this but I have to, I don't want to try and explain why I'm here in the morning. Happy new year." You simply said to him as his face dropped into a frown.

"Happy New Year." He said quietly and you apparated to the Weasleys house. You didn't know that you left Remus with a feeling of enormous guilt, he felt like he used the opportunity of you drunk to sleep with you and now you regretted it. He was reminded of your age by the way you rushed home, you may be eighteen but you still sometimes behaved like someone's daughter and that made Remus feel uneasy about perusing you, especially when you have to rush home the morning after. Rush home to a friend of his. The guilt ate him alive as he cleaned the coffee that you didn't finished and put out your half-smoked cigarette. In that moment he made a decision, he messed up, he got close to you and kissed you because he couldn't control himself and based on how you ran out the house you obviously regretted everything.

You on the other hand felt guilty for leaving, Remus treated you nicer than anyone else you've ever slept with, he made you coffee, he cared, it filled your heart with warmth, you knew you'll have to apologise for how you left. You slowly walked through the house up to the spare room you were staying in when you bumped into Percy who was going to the bathroom. He gave you a quick look up and down in a judgmental way and didn't even say hi, then as you passed the twins' room they opened the door with big grins. "Nice jumper." They both said at once. You looked down and saw you left in Remus's jumper.

"Shit." You took it off in that very moment in panic. "Don't tell anyone." You warned them.

"Our lips are sealed." They said in unison. "Although we will high five him next time we see him." Fred shrugged.

"Don't you dare Weasley." You warned.

"So how was sleeping with our dear professor?" George asked.

"Was it everything you dreamed of?" Fred added.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Was it at least good?" Fred pushed.

"The best I've ever had. And he made me coffee in the morning and hugged me and kissed me." You felt like you were melting just thinking about it.

"The best?" Fred repeated.

"Who knew prof would be so good." George added.

"Let's not talk about it, I actually have to sit in his class after this." You felt a bit sick at the idea, that was the end of that conversation. You quickly went to take a shower and change. After that you wrote a letter to Remus apologising about leaving so soon and thanking him for the coffee. He didn't reply. You sent him another three letters over the next few days making sure he's okay however he didn't reply. So you got the message, and he did regret it, he was just being nice to you in the morning because he was a good person. You were nervous to go back to Hogwarts but you decided you won't let New Years stop you. You came back a week before term, and you thought it may be good to bump into Remus before term starts to talk. You went to the bridge but he didn't, you knocked on his office but no one answered, you even tried to find him using the map but it was like he was always waking away from you.

You finally saw him on the first day of term, he was sitting eating breakfast in the great hall with all the teachers. You received and owl and it was from him but he didn't look up at you at all. The letter read:

"Welcome back to the new term miss L/N.

As previously agreed our tutoring continues to prepare you for you exams.

- Professor R.J.Lupin"

You looked up at him but he didn't look at you.

In his lesson that day you sat nervously in your seat, you were sitting next to Sebastian as you and Percy weren't on talking terms after New Years. "Are you okay?" Sebastian whispered watching you move around in your seat nervously waiting for Lupin to arrive to the classroom.

"Just nervous about exams." You explained to him, he put a hand on your leg to steady it. "It's okay you'll do great, I've got some calming fraught if you want it though." He said and you nodded. He slipped you the potion and you drank it, you didn't realise that around the time Sebastian put his hand on your leg Remus was walking in the classroom and watching the whole interaction. "Better?" Sebastian asked and you nodded in response. "Thank you." You said and he gave you a smile before moving his hand from your leg as you had stopped shaking from stress. Remus cleared his throat as he stood at the front of the classroom. "Welcome back I hope you've all had a good new year," Remus said, looking at you intensely during the last three words. You instantly felt hot however because of the position you didn't feel worried instead slightly turned on as you looked back at him, after a moment of eye contact he ripped his eyes away.

"Now I'm sure you're all nervous, but I will get you as prepared for your exams as possible all I ask is for you to listen and pay attention and that way I can help you." He continued, his eyes kept catching yours as if he couldn't look away and you were now enjoying the attention as all stress had left your body. However the closer to the end of the lesson it got the more the potion started to wear off and you could no longer look Lupin in the eye, he noticed the change in you and was very confused, he simply couldn't read you, he knew you took a potion however he wasn't sure what you took, he suspected it was calming draught but he had to ask you in your tutoring session if you show up. You considered skipping it but you knew you had to speak to Remus sooner or later and you didn't want to fail your exams because of him.

You lightly knocked on his office door filled with a bit of anxiety, he was sitting marking papers when you came in and he smiled gently at you but you could see he was on edge just like you. "Good afternoon Miss L/N. I hope you had a good Christmas." He greeted you and it filled you with anger that he was just pretending nothing happened.

"Can we talk?" You asked quietly sitting down on a chair near the front.

"Is it about your studies?"

"Obviously not." You snarked and he sighed pulling up a chair opposite you.

"We shouldn't, it's my responsibility to prepare you for your exams and" he began before you interrupted with a simple. "Remus." He loosened his tie and sighed.

"I'm really sorry Y/N. I'm really sorry for what I did, I should've been the responsible adult, I'm your teacher for fuck sake." He began and he looked visibly upset.

"Do you regret it?" You asked gently.

"Obviously, I shouldn't have put you in that situation. I pushed myself onto you, I knew my feelings for you I shouldn't have spoken to you at all if I was drinking."

"But I wanted to kiss you."

"Y/N I'm your teacher." He said as a matter of fact.

"So I don't care do you? Answer honestly."

"No." He shook his head and swallowed hard.

"Would you want to kiss me again?" He did say anything he just looked at your lips. "Answer honestly Remus." You added and he shook his head.

"Then do it." His eyes didn't leave your lips for a moment and then he made eye contact with you and he simply said "I can't."

"Why?" You asked him pleading.

"Because I am falling incredibly hard for you, and all I'm going to do is hurt you. Because I am your teacher. Because I can't offer you anything much more than a tea and a great music taste and an awful lot of knowledge on books."

"I don't care, you made me feel special, you make me feel loved." You continued to beg.

"Don't lie to me I saw how you ran out the house." He said with a angry and annoyed tone.

"I wrote to you three time to apologies, and you ignored every single letter." You said feeling like you're about to cry.

"You did?" His complexion changed suddenly.

"Yes. But I got the message that you rather ignore all this happened."

"Y/N, I wanted to make you coffee, take care of you and then talk to you like an adult about what this means for our lives here, but you ran out and the only letter I received was this from Percy." He said pulling out a letter that was crumbled up in his pocket, the address was Hogwarts, of course, all your letters went to the cottage but he didn't go there he came straight to the castle it all clicked.

"Why did Percy write to you?" You asked softly and he just handed you the letter to read.

"Dear professor Lupin,

As head boy I urge to remind you that you are our professor within and outside school grounds. And I believe you don't need to be reminded of school rules, especially for a man with your condition losing this job may be disastrous.

Happy new year, P. Weasley Head boy of Gryffindor"

"That prick." You said quietly and looked up at Remus. "I promise I didn't tell him anything."

"How would he know?" Remus asked he looked like you betrayed him.

"Your jumper," you began and Remus have you a puzzled look. "I came home in it the morning after and Percy saw me, he gave me a look of hate, we haven't talked since." You answered honestly. "Remus I'm sorry about this, can you ignore it and can we have this conversation based on our own opinions." You said and Remus sighed.

"No matter what I am your teacher and we've crossed a line."

"How do you expect me to focus in your lessons after what you've done to me professor?"

"Fuck you calling me professor like it doesn't turn you on." He said looking away and taking a deep shaky breath. "Can I kiss you one last time dear?" He asked and you nodded. And he leaned over the desk to kiss you slowly, the kiss was desperate and slow, as if he was savouring the moment, he put a hand on your cheek and tucked your hair behind your ear just like he did that first morning.

"Don't make it the last." You said as soon as he pulled away.

"Dear, as soon as you realise I'm just a broke man who's been cursed since childhood the sooner you'll realise you don't want me, so many men will be able to offer you the world, I won't."

"I hate you, I hate that you won't even give yourself a chance to be happy." You said feeling like you're about to cry.

"Y/N I'm trying to protect you." He pleaded.

"Or maybe you're just trying to protect yourself from feeling any good emotion in your life?" You said standing up. "Maybe you don't realise you're hurting me by not even trying, by leading me on."

"I'm sorry Y/N, I truly don't know what I'm doing, I wish I was, let's leave this conversation for another day let's start working on revision."

"Remus how am I meant to sit here and listen to you teach me while all I can think about is wether you like me just for sex, wether it's because you get turned on by fucking your student, wether you're just lonely and I'm convenient or wether an ounce of you actually cares about me."

"Y/N, if you want to have this conversation with me you need to act your age not frantically shout your thoughts at me like a school girl." He said harshly his mood becoming a lot more authoritarian.

"I am a school girl! I hate you Remus Lupin, I hate how you treat me, I hate you for making me feel like I mattered for you to just change your mind when it's convenient. I hate Percy for that letter. But I really hate you." You said pushing the tears away from your eyes.

"I'm not surprised, I hate me too." He said looking down at the desk and then he went silent.

"No Remus. I didn't mean-" You began realising your emotions got the better of you, truly you were scared about how much you liked him, how dependent you were becoming on him, how life wasn't the same without him.

"You've said enough. Goodbye." Remus said turning around and walking upstairs to his office without a single turn back to face you. And that was the last time you saw Remus Lupin that week, the next lesson you had with Lupin was taken over by Snape, and even your tutoring was now with McGonagall. Lupin returned on Friday evening, you saw him in the great hall during dinner, that's when you received and owl from him which was rare during dinner...

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

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#remus lupin x reader #student x teacher #teacher! Remus Lupin #professor lupin x reader #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #remus lupin #the maruaders #harry potter #remus love you #secret smokes #remus lupin smut #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin imagine #the marauders #sirius orion black

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lovelycureaestetic · 16 days

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People with no reading comprehension will keep on saying that "Sebastian doesn't care about Ciel" and that "he only worries about him because if he dies it would be counterproductive for him!" While ignoring that at the very beginning Sebastian acted like this

Uncaring about how in danger Ciel would be because of course he was ultimately going to save him, so why worrying that much over nothing? He even got some kicks out of seeing him struggle.

Then the Campania happened and he almost seriously lost Ciel. That was a turning point (for both of them but we're focusing on Seb here) and how does he start acting whenever Ciel is in danger?

Immediate reaction, instant worry, ready to take action and make sure the little master won't die on him. One could wager that in the last two cases it was an issue that Sebastian himself couldn't demonically solve like a kidnapping and that would be correct, but his attitude has changed. His expressions are different, he's genuinely worried about not being able to help him because illnesses and the likes are not things he can cure as part of the contract.

Another tidbit I noticed is this

In the very first chapters, Ciel gets kidnapped and sent to sleep with chloroform; as per the previous panels I've posted, Sebastian was blissfully unaware of it. Fast forward 100+ chapters and Sebastian can IMMEDIATELY tell Ciel fell asleep. He didn't see that as an issue and would later come to regret it, but this tells us he is now constantly checking in on Ciel's vitals, maybe as a result of the Green Witch Arc who knows, but what's important is that now he is doing it.

To say Sebastian is not fond/does not worry about Ciel is to deny all the development Yana has made him go through. To say Sebastian and Ciel dislike each other is to be stuck at chapter 1 and if that's your case what are you even doing here.

#sebaciel #kuroshitsuji #analysis #sort of i mean #btw stop starting your rb with 'i don't even ship them but' i don't wanna read that thanks #that personal annoyance aside you don't have to ship them to see there has been a huge development in their relationship #shaking my head at whoever makes them hate each other #it's been almost 20 years since chapter one yall can let it go now #sebastian michaelis #ciel phantomhive

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brain-rot-central · 2 months

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Sonnet of the Lone Cardinal, Ch. 4

A/N: Confrontation time. Here we go, y'all. I'm tagging this as borderline non-con for the ending. It steps into some murky territory that some may feel uncomfortable with. But hey, we're dealing with AA, after all. I'll also be linking a post reference within the text here; please click the link when you see it! It'll help you visualize a certain part. 🌝 Thank you all for the support thus far! I hope you enjoy reading ❤️

Rating: Explicit Word count: 7.7k Pairing: Ascended Astarion x Female Tav (named) Warnings: 18+, non-con (somewhat; literally touches the border of it), absolutely dubcon, mentions of pregnancy, mention of virginity loss, loss of innocence, manipulative behaviors, toxic relationship, discussions of death and murder, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, PiV sex, PiV sex while pregnant, blood drinking, mother-fuckin' vampire sex boiiiiiiiiii (sorry these tags are way too serious and I am not)

Summary: Tav arrives at the Crimson Palace, poised for a confrontation with Astarion. A delicate dance ensues.

♥ Previous Chapter ♥ Link to Ao3

It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust as she enters, but once they do, the sight before her nearly robs her of all speech and reason.

Illuminated by candelabras, Tav gasps in awe at the renovations to the interior of the manor. The once drab and outdated decor has been ripped out, heart and soul, and replaced with… white. So much white.

White walls, white marble flooring with golden accents, tall white marble columns. A generous crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, Tav looking up. Her vision comes down to settle on the plush red carpet lining the foyer, stretching through the hall and into the ballroom. The reflection of the candlelight shimmers along the marble floors. A sunset on the water… Tav notes offhandedly to herself.

A commemoration to their moment of triumph over the Absolute.

They all stood atop the dock watching the sun set over the horizon, sunlight glinting off the sea. The moment the tadpole vanished, Astarion became free. Truly and completely free.

A life regained, a future unwritten.

Reborn anew.

As she continues to drink in the new additions to the palace, Tav sees a figure approach from the corner of her eye. She turns her head to observe an older human woman making her way down the carpet, a smile set upon her slightly wrinkled face.

“Good evening, young miss,” the woman greets with a short bow. “Have you come to ask for an audience with Lord Ancunín?”

Tav remains silent for a moment as she quickly gives the woman a glance over. Gray hair with a time-worn face, albeit one that still shows the beauty she once beheld. She wears a simple long black dress with long sleeves, a white apron tied around her waist. Her shoes are black with a big metal buckle adorning the top of each. “I beg pardon for my current appearance,” the woman offers, giving the apron a quick pat down. “It isn’t often we have visitors this time in the evening.”

“No…” Tav begins, voice trailing off as she regroups her thoughts. “Not an audience, no. I’m…” Her chest thumps as she ponders their relationship. “...A friend of Astarion's. Is he home?”

“The young Master is in, yes; though I'm afraid he's currently occupied.” As if sensing Tav’s disappointment, the woman questions, “May I ask who you are?”

Tav nods her head respectfully. “I'm Tav.” The woman quirks a questioning brow. “Tavaria,” she adds quickly. “I was a traveling companion to Astarion over a year ago.”

And much more…

A spark shoots across the woman's vision and Tav recoils backward, readying herself.

“Ah!” the woman exclaims joyfully, “Lady Tavaria!” The woman bows earnestly. “Lord Ancunín extends his warmest greetings to you. Welcome to the Crimson Palace.”

With a smile, Tav softens her stance. She bows in return. “Thank you. It's… definitely different than before,” she comments while looking around the room.

“Ah, yes,” the woman agrees, “Master Astarion has renovated the manor to his distinct liking after the untimely passing of its prior occupant.”

“I see,” Tav states with a laugh. “This is all… very Astarion.” Elegant and refined.

All for show.

Continuing her observation of the room, a painting hanging on the middle wall catches Tav's eyes. She walks toward the painting, stopping just in front of it.

It's a black and white piece, looking to have been drawn in charcoal, depicting a man and woman sharing an intimate embrace. Both are naked, the woman's face obscured by her pose as she bows her back while offering her throat to the man. His head rests within her neck, his long black hair flowing down his back. The accompanying piece focuses solely on the man. The lustful look demonstrated in the man's half-lidded eyes as he looks up from the woman's throat has Tav shaking where she stands.

She's seen that look before. Not unlike how Astarion has looked at her.

The servant woman smiles, still standing in the same spot, clasping her hands together. “You must be exhausted, dearie,” she says, cutting through the silence. “Shall I direct you to your chambers?”

Tav blinks rapidly and turns her head to the woman. “I’m sorry, but did you say ‘my chambers?’” She shakes her head with a short laugh. “I don't live here.”

��But of course, my lady,” offers the servant. “Master Astarion has asked that we offer it as an option should you ever visit the manor.” She nods her head with another beatific smile. “There is no obligation. It is simply a kind gesture.” She bows, courteously, “My apologies for any offense I may have given, Lady Tavaria.”

Tav nods briefly, turning away from the woman as her mind races. He made me a bloody bedroom? She lifts her head and once again finds the picture on the wall. A chill travels up her neck as she locks eyes with the intense gaze of the man in the painting. Her breath hitches.

“Do you know when Astarion will be available?” Tav asks hurriedly, looking toward the woman.

The servant shakes her head. “I'm afraid I do not, though I can set you up in the study while you wait?” Smiling again, the woman walks across the room to a set of double doors on the far right. She opens them wide and gestures to Tav, welcoming her to enter.

Clutching her satchel, Tav walks through the threshold and into the office. It's rather standard when compared to the rest of the manor; dark green carpeting and wood panel walls. Multiple bookcases that are carved into the walls, holding a plethora of tomes. A couple glass display cases are near the large window on the far side of the room. The evening sunlight pours in from the wide window and onto the chaise lounge adjacent to it; a relaxing spot for one who wishes to bask in the sun.

The solid, dark wooden desk across from the double doors has a number of loose papers strewn about the top. An ornate wooden chair sits behind the desk, purple velvet upholstery with golden Damask patterns lining the back and seat. Two simple royal blue armchairs sit before the desk, signaling the office’s likely use for business gatherings.

“Please, make yourself at home,” the older woman says from behind as she enters the room. She walks over to the desk and gathers the documents into a single pile. “Would you care for something to drink, my lady? I'd be happy to bring you something after informing Lord Ancunín of your presence.”

Tav turns her head in acknowledgement of the older woman. “I'm quite well, thank you.” She furrows her brow. “Though, I didn't catch your name before.”

The woman freezes momentarily before bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Oh, my goodness!” she exclaims in embarrassment, bringing her hands to her cheeks. “Where are my manners today?” She quickly bows. “Magdalena, my lady. A true pleasure to make your acquaintance. My sincerest apologies.”

“It’s quite alright, Magdalena. No harm done,” Tav says with a calming wave of her hand. She walks toward the grand window and turns to face the older woman again. “Thank you for your hospitality thus far. I’ll settle myself in.”

With a nod of her head, Magdalena begins to exit the study. “Of course, Lady Tavaria. I’ll inform Master Astarion of your presence at once.” The doors close behind her with a soft click, and suddenly, Tav is alone.

She removes the satchel from around her chest, depositing the bag onto the chaise lounge. Her hat and scarf are next to join as she shakes out her hair. Tav tries to look through the frosted glass window without success. The opacity is too intense to make out anything more than muddled blobs. Turning around, she begins to walk the perimeter of the room, stopping in front of a large glass display case with a large book resting within. The cover of the book is adorned with skin, stitched into the pattern of a screaming face. An amethyst jewel sits within the face’s open mouth. Tav recalls the long nights and early mornings Astarion spent reasoning with this book until finally uncovering its secrets.

The Necromancy of Thay.

Of course he kept it.

She continues on, noting each small trinket that sits within the shelves of the grand bookcases. Slipping her hands behind her back, Tav peers over the wooden desk and observes the pile of documents on top. She pops her head up to briefly scan the room. Satisfied that she has clear advantage, she takes a hand to swipe over the letters.

There are various invitations to grand balls in distant kingdoms, letters of gratitude from high nobles, bills of sale… Tav’s eyes widen as she spots a familiar name amongst the many signatures.

With deepest admiration, Araj Oblodra

Tav reaches over and picks up the letter off the desk, holding it steady with both hands as she skims through the contents. From what she gathers, it sounds as if Araj has learned of Astarion’s new circumstances. She’s highly apologetic for her past behavior and would very much like an opportunity to show her sincerest gratitude. The letter goes on further to imply that they take the chance to get to know one another better, and perhaps they can even become allies.

Tav scoffs as she places the piece of paper back down on the desk.

She resumes her roaming when she settles on a small jewelry case on the top left of the desk. Walking around the edge, Tav fixates on the case, a startled gasp slips past her lips as she recognizes the jewelry within.

Resting atop a red velvet cushion lay a golden ring with a turquoise stone in its center. One half of a matching set of rings she had found during their journey through the Shadow-Cursed Lands. Tav was in possession of both rings for quite some time, going back and forth with herself about whether giving him one half would be too much.

She’d grown to like him; really-really like him, but she’d no idea if he felt the same. It wasn’t until the night of Astarion’s confession that Tav made her decision. Feeling the tension within his body as she wrapped her arms around his waist, yet fighting through his hesitation to return her embrace. It was enough to convince her that he truly did want to give them a try.

She presented the ring to him the following morning as they packed up camp.

“...A bit soon for a proposal, no?” quips Astarion, expression smug.

Tav stands before him. A ring with a golden aura lays within the palm of her hand, held out in silent offer. “N-no!” she stammers, the ghost of a blush tinting her cheeks. She averts her gaze as she says, “It's an enchanted ring.”

Astarion raises an eyebrow in question. “I can see that quite clearly, dear. But what does it do?”

Turning to look at him under her eyes, Tav replies shyly, “...It allows me to cast a special protection spell on you.” Her cheeks burn hot, her skin beginning to prickle.

His eyes darken as he leans forward. “Oh,” Astarion teases, voice velvet, “you wish to be my Knight?” He begins to move into her, hovering his lips just above hers. “You want to save a poor, innocent maiden such as I,” he coos. “Is that it, darling?”

They spent the majority of the following night rutting feverishly against one another, sharing a mutual need to scrub their underclothes in the river the morning after. From that point forward, each wore their respective ring around the fourth finger of the left hand.

Commotion outside the office brings Tav back to the present. She hears the voice of a woman, though not of the servant from earlier. Tav sneaks closer toward the doors, placing her ear to the wood to hopefully catch some of the conversation.

Still muffled, she thinks with a scowl. Drawing a deep breath in, Tav makes a quick split decision and grabs hold of the doorknob, twisting it gently. She feels the lock unlatch and pulls the door open just enough to allow for a small sliver of visibility. Tav strains against the door as she tries to find a better angle.

A tall elven woman with long blonde hair stands in the foyer exchanging words with Magdalena. Dressed in professional attire, she hands the maid a business card as they exchange pleasantries. Tav catches the woman's head beginning to turn toward the direction of the office and Tav quickly steps out of sight, holding her breath, heart flying within her chest. A few moments pass without incident before Tav slowly inches toward the crack in the door. She finds Magdalena bowing as the elf takes her leave of the manor.

There isn't much time to ponder who this mysterious woman is – the sound of footsteps marching along marble flooring fills the air.

“Good evening, Master,” greets Magdalena, kneeling in a curtsy.

“Good evening, my dear.” A man's voice, deep and smooth. Perfectly poised. Her stomach lurches; she knows that voice.

Tav holds her breath as talk continues just beyond the door. She quickly scans the room to determine which is closer – the blue armchair sitting before the desk, or the chaise lounge near the window.

As the man's footsteps draw closer to the door Tav bolts for the armchair, sitting promptly. She adjusts herself to appear as if she's been waiting patiently for his arrival all this time.

“Odd that the door is already open,” Tav hears the man comment from just beyond the door.

Shit.

A flash of embarrassing heat crawls up her neck. Magdalena mutters something to Astarion under her breath, but it's too quiet for Tav to make out. The doors suddenly swing open and Tav remains still, trying desperately to settle the overactive current that is her nerves.

She smells him first before she sees him – the signature scent of rosemary, bergamot and brandy encompassing the quaint office. “Thank you, Magdalena. Now, please, carry on,” he says smoothly.

Tav hears the man begin to approach from behind, placing the palms of his hands atop her shoulders. “I’m sure you've done a fine job at making our Lady feel welcome, hmm?” He squeezes her shoulders, Tav flinching beneath his grasp.

Tav tries desperately to resist the urge to look at him. When she closes her eyes she envisions the sharpness of his jaw behind her mind's eye, coupled with the smell of his cologne that’s currently assaulting her senses – she simply cannot look at him. If she does, she's going to fall.

She'll forget about the murders. Forget how angry she is that he dared come to her in a state of blood-crazed lust. That she carries a child he knows nothing about, that he can never know anything about.

If she looks at his face, so perfectly sculpted by the Gods themselves, she's going to forget every reason as to why she should stay far, far away from this man. Longing for nothing more than to fall into his arms for the rest of eternity.

“Y-yes,” Tav replies, nervously. “You've been ever so kind, Magdalena. Thank you.” Finally, she turns, eyes meeting with the servant woman. Tav feels the pale elf's searing gaze upon her skin as she deliberately looks past him, the hands on her shoulders relaxing.

“Wonderful,” he sings with a wave of his hand. “Now leave us, Magdalena.” He walks around Tav, coming to lean against the lip of the office desk. “The Lady and I have much to discuss,” he purrs, leaning over as he places a hand upon her jaw. Slowly he tilts her face upright, staring directly into her eyes. “Isn't that right, love?”

Within an instant, she feels faint. An unsettling warmth begins to spread. “Yes, Astarion,” Tav murmurs softly as his fingers slip down her neck. Her eyes flutter closed as the hand inevitably falls free of her. Astarion slowly leans back and upright, a hint of a smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He breaks eye contact to focus on Magdalena.

The servant woman bows, closing the doors behind her with an audible ‘thud’ as she takes her leave. The room is silent then. Tav’s heart pounds in her ears as she stares beyond Astarion again, focusing on the ring box at the corner of the desk. She only realizes how rapidly she's breathing as the sound reaches her ears.

“Are you alright, dear?” Astarion’s smooth voice cuts through. “You look as though you've seen a ghost.”

Raising her head, Tav meets his eyes. He stands before her, concern written across his features. For a split second, Tav sees him – the dashing rogue she fell in love with.

The way Astarion is knitting his brow, wide glassy eyes studying her. It's all very much like him.

“I’m fine,” she forces out, swallowing hard.

“Did Magdalena offend you?” Astarion asks urgently.

Tav shakes her head. “No, she truly has been pleasant.”

He leans over her again. Astarion drags a finger delicately up the side of her cheek. “Then why do you cry?”

Immediately Tav raises a hand to her opposite cheek. Moisture coats her fingertips as she finds a stray tear rolling down her cheek. She’s unsure when or why she’s begun to weep, wiping the tear away with the back of her hand. Tav pulls herself out of Astarion’s touch with a slight groan.

“I-I’m fine, really,” she insists. “I… came to see you.”

The vampire's expression softens as he tilts his head. “I haven't come to you in some time,” Astarion says, walking toward a carafe of wine sitting atop a metal cart near the window. “I apologize for that.” He speaks over his shoulder, pouring the wine out into a glass. He gestures with the carafe briefly to Tav; she shakes her head. “Although, I can't say I anticipated you showing up here.” Placing the carafe back down on the cart, Astarion turns, lips pulling into a smirk as he brings the wine glass to his lips. “Is it true then, what they say? Has absence made your heart grow fonder?”

Tav stands and turns to Astarion, giving him a full glance over. He wears a simple white dress shirt, the top few buttons undone revealing glimpses of his sculpted chest. His trousers are something she’s unfamiliar with – a type of woven cotton in a particular vertical design, and dyed blue. Indigo blue. He's wearing a black belt, threaded into loops within the pants around his hips. Tav imagines there's a fastener under the belt buckle, but also something else to help secure the garment. Something metal running down the front seam of the pants. Her eyes finish their course down his legs to find a simple pair of polished black loafers.

“...I'll take that as a yes,” Astarion comments with a quirk of his brow. He returns from across the room to once again take his place leaning against the desk in front of Tav, setting the wine glass down.

“N-no,” Tav blurts out, “I mean yes, but…” She feels the warmth of embarrassment crawl up her neck, nipping along her skin as it floods her face.

A hand rises to move her hair gently aside. Astarion leans forward and dips his head into the crook of her neck, planting chaste kisses along the tender flesh. “I missed you,” he whispers into her skin. Hot puffs of breath spread over her neck and Tav shudders. Almost instinctively, she raises her head to allow Astarion better access to her throat; her eyes flutter closed. His hand in her hair winds around the back of her head, gently guiding Tav’s head further to the side before falling to her hip.

Tav gasps as Astarion pulls their bodies flush against one another. His arousal has yet to awaken, though she can still feel the outline of him against her core. She groans as he rolls her hips into her again and again; slow, languid thrusts that have bolts of pleasure shooting up from between her thighs and spreading like wildfire through her body.

“Astarion…” Tav protests weakly, raising a hand to cover Astarion's on her hip. “I didn't come here for this.”

He purrs into her throat, gently nipping and teasing the skin around her scars with blunted teeth. “Oh, no? Are you sure?” Astarion pulls her into him again while imitating a piercing bite into her neck.

She moans, louder than she means to, finally feeling the rigidness of his cock firmly against her sex. Her head falls against his shoulder as he continues rolling his hips against her, hardly noticing Astarion moving his hand from her hip to her lower back. A spark of panic zaps through her addled mind as she realizes where this is heading.

“Y-yes, I'm sure,” she insists, somehow managing to pull herself out of Astarion's embrace. The room spins around her as she turns to face him. “There's something I wanted to discuss with you,” she says breathlessly, vision finally starting to clear.

His expression falls, replaced by smug dissatisfaction. “You came halfway across the city… just to talk?” asks Astarion, narrowing his eyes.

Tav nods her head in agreement. “Yes, it's something rather important.”

Astarion groans low in his throat, grabbing the glass of wine off the desk and walking toward the office window. He brings the crimson liquid to his lips and takes a strong sip. “You could have sent a damned pigeon, if that's all you wanted,” he snides over his shoulder.

“Not about this.” Tav feels her throat run dry as she speaks. Her lust has settled for now, replaced by the live wire of anticipation.

“About what?” Astarion growls defensively. He spins around, entire body leaning into his words. Like an animal being cornered.

Tav flinches reflexively. It’s rare that Astarion ever raises his voice to her, even during disagreements. She swallows, hardening her resolve. “Don’t use that tone with me.”

Astarion hisses through clenched teeth, taking another long drink from his wine glass. His face softens. “I'm sorry, love, but I'm having a very rough time ascertaining what could ever be so important that you felt the need to bring yourself here,” he gestures wildly to the floor below him, “to me, just to talk?”

She doesn't respond.

The tension eases from his form as he studies Tav, clearly shaken by his display. He sucks his teeth in defeat. “Oh, for the love of Shar’s cunt, fine,” he groans. “If you're going to look at me like that, then fine, I'll bite.” He comes to rest on the chaise lounge near the window, knees spread wide, his forearms resting over the tops of his thighs. “So, what can I do for you, my friend?”

Tav winces, looking down at her hands as she fidgets her fingers. He's being heavily sarcastic, though at least it's an invitation to continue. “...There was an article recently in the Gazette,” she begins, voice quivering. “That spoke of a murder within the sewers.”

Astarion scoffs. “Unsurprising for those cesspits, but do carry on.”

Her eyes shift momentarily to his face before falling back to the floor. “It's reported that there were five victims in total. Three had their throats slashed, while the other two…” her voice trails off as her throat tightens. Tav tries to swallow, but nothing goes down. Panic rises within her, adrenaline building.

“The other two what, dear?” Astarion's voice is dark, firm. He stands from his place on the lounge, walking slowly over to Tav. He stands before her, brows pulled together, his eyes cast down upon her face. A hand comes up to lift her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Tell me,” he demands.

She gasps, Tav finally saying with some hesitation, “They had fang marks… embedded in their throats. Resembling the scars I bear.” She blinks. “The ones you gave me,” she adds, quietly.

His eyes darken with malice as his face contorts. His grip on her chin tightens, forcibly lifting her head to the side to observe her branding. Astarion pulls in a full breath as he looks over her neck, mouth dropping open in an exasperated exhale.

“...Do you know anything about this?” Tav chokes out, eyelashes fluttering rapidly.

“And why would I know anything about that, hmm?” Astarion lowers his head into the crook of her neck, panting heavily against her skin. Tav shakes from their proximity. He then drags his lips up the side of her face, resting them against her ear. “I'm not the only monster lurking in the shadows,” he whispers.

The hand on her chin falls to her hip, guiding her gently toward the lip of the desk. “I know how you think of me, darling.” Tav sucks in a sharp breath as her backside bumps into the wood. “That I’m the big bad wolf coming to steal you away in the night.” Astarion buries his nose within her hair, inhaling deeply as he pulls their bodies flush together again.

“A-answer the question, Astarion,” Tav insists, her head beginning to cloud.

“Oh, but wouldn't you rather hear what I miss most about you, Tavaria?” he growls into her ear. “What memories play incessantly again and again in my mind?” Astarion grinds himself against her center again, coaxing a suggestive moan out of Tav. Her arms rise to encircle his neck, her resolve beginning to shatter.

“A-Astarion,” Tav whines desperately. “D-don’t…”

He drops his head to rest their foreheads together, lips practically touching. “I miss how you’d writhe in my lap as I'd drink from you,” Astarion confesses. He pulls at her bottom lip, suckling the flesh between his. “The way you flutter around my cock when you fall off the edge for me.” He kisses her more thoroughly this time, groaning softly into her mouth as Tav’s jaw slackens. “But, do you know what I miss above all else?” suggests Astarion, pulling back. He dips his head again into the nape of her neck, a hand rising to gently hold the opposite side of her face.

Tav grasps at the linen of his dress shirt, bunching the fabric within the palms of her hands. She's now rocking her hips in rhythm with his, a smoldering fire now roaring to life deep within her belly. Her body calls for him, and Tav wonders briefly if he can hear it.

The crazed beating of her heart? The lone song it sings only for him? The proof of their union that grows within?

“Your blood,” Astarion speaks against her skin. Suddenly he places his mouth over her scars and sucks voraciously, like a man starved. Tav moans, buckling at the knees momentarily. She grabs at his hair, threading her fingers deep against their roots for leverage. “Gods, there's nothing quite like the vintage of your blood,” he continues as he unlatches from her throat. The delicacy of her skin has given way to a mauve bloom; he smiles as he pulls away.

She shakes beneath him. If it weren't for the desk behind her, Tav would certainly collapse. He's trying to seduce her. Fuck her into submission – make her crave him so that she's more pliable, in whichever way he desires. These are his classic manipulation tactics, not unlike their humble beginnings.

“I know w-what you're doing, Astarion,” Tav says. “Don’t toy with me.”

He laughs – a quick condescending sound breaking free from his lips. “Oh, darling, you've been toying with me for months now. I'm very aware,” Astarion says with a smirk. He cranes his head. “Our dance is always the same – we fight, we kiss, and then I make the sweetest love to you as you weave your fingers between the very threading of my soul, ripping my heart free of my chest,” he adds with a sneer, pounding a fist over his heart.

Astarion pauses for a brief moment to stare at her. He pulls in a quick breath and his face softens. “And I let you, every time.” Tav gasps as the hand holding her face slides to her chin, fingers tracing the outline of her lips. “But you?” he continues, gesturing to a shelf on the wall behind them with a nod of his head, “You keep yours high on a shelf, completely out of reach. No matter how I clamor for it.”

Astarion releases her, hands entirely off her being as he steps back. “I lay myself bare for you every time. But you refuse to see it. Refuse to see me, beyond the glitz and glamor.” He knits his brow again, and Tav swears she sees a hint of moisture gather at the edges of his eyes. “Yet, I say nothing, because this is the only way you allow me to have you. And I’d rather have some of you than nothing at all.”

Silence blankets them both.

Has she been unfair to him? Cruel? Has she so sorely misjudged who he’s become? Tav shifts her gaze down to the floor as the questions mount. Maybe he isn’t this grand demon she’s characterized him to be. His talk of power and control after the ritual – perhaps it was a rush of emotions? The first taste of freedom after so many years of indentured servitude? He seems more settled now, not in so much of a rush to bend the entire city to his will.

Perhaps… she was wrong?

“So, may we skip straight to the finale?” says Astarion, distracting her from her thoughts, “Because I’m not quite sure how much more of this I can take.”

Her mouth hangs open, too stunned to speak. Tav looks up; she meets his eyes.

Maniacal laughter as he bathes in a glowing red aura of 7000 souls extinguished.

His face when the ritual was complete. The way he roared. How he laughed.

No, she's not wrong for mistrusting him. He's worse than a devil themselves.

They stare into one another's eyes, the tension swirling about the room thickening. Tav blinks; he still hasn't answered her question.

“You still haven't answered my question, Astarion.”

She stands firm.

He scoffs, turning his head toward the grand window. Astarion runs a hand over his face; he bites the top of a finger. “No,” he answers sternly, dropping the hand from his mouth. “I don't take particular interest in what happens within the bowels of this city.” He glances down at the fingernails of his closed fist, rubbing them across the front of his shirt. “My days of being a sewer rat are long gone, my dear.”

Tav winces. She's not entirely yet convinced. “Are you sure?”

Slowly, Astarion returns his attention to her. “Yes,” he growls low in this throat, “I am sure.” He tilts his head to the side as he lifts his brow. “Satisfied?”

Briefly she narrows her eyes, studying his face. Something about this… she's seen it before. He's pulled his face into an all-too-perfect expression. Not a muscle out of place.

“Yes, thank you,” she answers. Tav watches his liar’s mask slide off, replaced by a smug expression. He’s truly convinced he has her fooled.

How could she have ever loved such a horrid creature?

“Excellent,” Astarion hums as he clasps his hands. “Shall we return to more pressing matters?” His hands raise to caress the soft edges of her hips. He drops his face to her forehead, planting a soft, lingering kiss. Gently he rocks them together again.

He's turning this into his playground. His bargaining chip.

Sex. Lies. Manipulation.

He falls back on them every time. Seals every deal with the proposition of ‘a little death;’ wielding his body like a finely sharpened tool. In her case, if she doesn't play her cards carefully, Tav could very well be staring face to face with actual death.

“Of course,” she sings to him. “I wouldn't be truthful if I said I hadn't been thinking of this.” She smiles softly to him, in just the way she knows he likes – a smile that reaches her eyes. It's her turn to start dealing her hand.

And just as expected, Astarion folds.

Hands reach behind her knees, Astarion lifting her up and onto the top of the desk. Their kiss is hurried as he slots himself between her splayed thighs, his tongue entwining itself around hers. Astarion's hands travel up again, one landing on her waist while the other palms at a clothed breast. Tav arches her back, pushing her chest into his touch. She sighs as he continues massaging the tender mound, mewling into his mouth as he pulls teasingly at her nipple. Breaking the kiss, she rests her forehead against the bridge of his nose. Her chest heaves as she tries to regain her breath.

Astarion releases her breast and slides his hand up to push the strap of her dress off her shoulder. “Lay down,” he commands with a whisper. Tav hesitates at first, but then moves slowly. She gently lays back onto the surface of the desk; the wood is cold against her exposed skin, sending a chill through her. Astarion leans forward, planting open-mouthed kisses to her neck and the newly exposed area of her shoulder. He travels down, suckling softly at the swell of her breast. She writhes beneath his touch as his hair tickles her chest.

“Ai armiel telere maenen hir,” says Astarion, kissing down the expanse of her abdomen. Tav grasps at silver locks, threading her fingers through Astarion’s hair as he begins hiking up her dress.

“You’ve said that to me before,” she pants heavily while stealing a look between her legs. An involuntary twitch ripples through her as he kisses the inside of her thigh. Tav feels him smirk into her skin.

“And still you’ve yet to seek out its meaning,” comes his prompt response. Astarion hooks his fingers into the hem of her undergarments, Tav lifting her hips enough for him to slide the fabric down her legs. They hang off one ankle as he resumes lavishing attention to her.

She arches off the desk as he kisses her mound, dipping his head momentarily to swipe his tongue teasingly up her slit. “W-uh, what d-does it mean?” she questions in a moan.

Astarion hums as he kneels before her spread legs. “You'll just have to find out for yourself,” he teases. Holding her legs open, he runs the flat of his tongue up her center, stopping to lavish her sensitive bud. He wraps his lips around her clit, suckling gently as he brings a hand to her entrance.

“What are you-” Tav exclaims, clearly panicked. Two of his fingers prod over her entrance, Astarion lightly teasing the tips in and out. Their eyes connect and he finally breaches forward, his eyes now rolling back into his skull as he continues lapping at her cunt. He curls his fingers, jerking his hand back and forth to pass over the intimate spot within. Tav’s vision begins to fill with searing white heat, her body writhing under him. He's bringing her closer and closer to release, and fast. More quickly than ever before.

“Gods, you taste even better than I remember,” he moans softly, adding fuel to the ever-mounting fire within her belly. Astarion kisses her opposite thigh, continuing the assault with his fingers. “Thiramen,” he says softly, sensing her proximity to the precipice.

The fucking Elvish. He surely hasn't forgotten the effect it has on her.

“D-don’t… not fair…” Tav whines, looking down between her legs as she runs her hands through Astarion's hair. Her thighs quake, the coil in her lower belly winding tighter and tighter as it threatens to snap.

Astarion meets her gaze, tongue once again passing over her swollen clit. “Thiramen eath’she,” he says. “Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen...”

Astarion curls his finger with just the right amount of finesse and suddenly Tav’s body ceases. She cries out, loud and wanton, her release spilling into the palm of his hand. Astarion smirks and continues passing his fingers over her spot, coaxing her through the intensity of her pleasure. Tav pulls her knees together and finally rolls away from his touch, too overstimulated to take any more. Her chest heaves as aftershocks of her release rock through her.

The vampire smiles as he stands up, wiping his face with the back of his hand. He begins undoing the buttons of his dress shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders. Opening her legs again, he leans over her. Tav’s face is flushed red, her eyes still closed as her mouth hangs open. He makes a quick mental note of her current state to call upon for later use. “So beautiful,” Astarion comments, snaking a hand down to the button of his trousers. With the deftness expected of a skilled rogue, he pops open the button and loosens the fastener.

Tav finally comes to, opening her eyes to meet his gaze. “Astarion…” she breathes, raking her nails over his bare chest. Looking between their bodies, she follows his hand as he reaches within the waistband of his underclothes, pulling them down his thighs. His cock springs free and Tav gasps. Pre-fluid gathers at the tip of him and her eyes flutter upward to meet his again, feeling heat rise to her cheeks.

“I'll stop, if you want,” Astarion whispers through kiss-swollen lips. Guiding his length to rest against her sex, he groans softly, resting his head against her forehead. Involuntarily twitches of his hips have his shaft sliding deliciously through her arousal. Both pull in a sharp breath when the head of his cock catches at her entrance, Tav’s body arching off the desk at the sensation.

Shaky hands rise to hold either side of his face, and Tav notices for the first time that evening how warm it is. A soft blush sits high on his face, across the tops of his cheeks. Astarion turns his head into her palm, planting gentle kisses. Any reservations begin to melt away at the gesture. “No,” she breathes, “it's fine. I want this.” Tav runs her thumb back and forth over his cheek. “Even if only for a little while.”

He nods, completely silent, then guides himself along her core. Her hands tangle within moonlit locks as he breeches her entrance. Her sudden pleasured moan is swallowed in a kiss, Astarion groaning out is own into her mouth as his length slips deeper, deeper, until he hits her end. Tav tastes the remnants of her release on his tongue; a bitter sweetness that tickles the back of her throat. An involuntary clenching of her walls around his cock as his tip kisses the end of her tunnel has Astarion moaning again, breaking their kiss. He buries his head within the crook of her neck, resting there for a brief moment as he bottoms out.

They lay still, Tav pressing a heated cheek to the side of his face. Inhaling deeply, she crosses her legs over the small of his back and pulls him impossibly closer. Astarion adjusts the angle of his hips and she gasps as the head of his cock pushes against her cervix again, slightly arching into his embrace. Gently he begins to rock his hips – short, teasing thrusts to test her readiness. He lavishes attention to her neck with languid kisses, suckling at the delicate skin.

This is… passionate. Intimate, Tav realizes. The words he cannot say aloud, that he's too afraid to say aloud, he'll express through this.

This is her Astarion. The man she fell in love with over a year ago. Here, like this, is him. Tav turns her face to plant reassuring kisses against his temple. “You can move, Astarion,” she tells him.

He doesn't lift his face, but she feels how he breathes against her skin. A hand comes up to thread within her hair, the other landing on her hip. He’s silent as he begins to move – pulling out before slowly plunging back in. They stay like this for a bit, Astarion rocking his hips into her core with added fevor. He glides smoothly as her arousal grows, Tav falling easily into their shared rhythm.

“Tav?”

She opens her eyes, unaware of having closed them. “Mmm?” she groans softly, mouth falling open in a silent gasp as he adjusts his angle.

“Do you trust me?”

It takes a moment, but she’s sure she hears a sort of sternness in his voice. Tav peels her head back to meet his eyes. They're wild – dark crimson pools that threaten to swallow her whole. Astarion breathes heavily through his nose, eyes cast down as he awaits an answer.

She opens her mouth to speak but the words catch in her throat. With a wandering eye she finds the ring laying next to her on the corner of the desk. Light gleams on the gold band, reflecting off the glass of encasement.

He kept the ring, she argues to herself. He kept his half of the rings.

Were he so terrible, would he have done that?

“I do,” Tav answers nervously, blinking rapidly.

“May I ask a favor?”

Astarion stills his movements. He holds himself up by his elbows, but not before guiding Tav to lay flat on the surface of the desk. She nods her head slowly as she looks up to him, inviting him to continue.

In an instant, her stomach twists.

He smiles.

“It's been so long since I've supped of you, darling,” Astarion says, voice smooth as velvet. “Would you be ever so kind to grant me another taste?”

A chill runs up her spine. The room is cold, suddenly so very cold. She's ripped violently from the benevolent illusion of the moment, finding herself face to face with the very creature of tales long past.

The innocent maidens.

They always come for the innocent maidens.

She was nowhere near innocent – not for many years. But a maiden? Yes, of this she was sure.

She never did tell Astarion, but he was her first as much as she was his. Her mind may have still been fractured, but somehow she had certainty of that one fact. The moment he breached her maidenhead was the beginning of everything. Bit by bit he carved out pieces of her. Took them, stole them for himself. More and more she gave, all in an effort to appease his ever-growing lust for power and control.

Astarion is, and was, a rolling thunderstorm – lightning fit to strike for no reason other than he can.

And now he's asking, again, for more.

An overwhelming urge to cry is building within her, but she won't. She chose this. To be here, with him. Like this. The consequences of her actions playing out in real time.

Her stomach twists again and she winces in pain. She understands his craving for blood well. The pregnancy has been kicking up old feelings; she believed them to be settled after the rejection of her Father. Can she really deny him his hunger?

Tav lifts her face to meet his gaze. Astarion is looking down at her with a blank expression. He silently awaits her answer.

“...D-do not turn me, Astarion,” comes her shaky response.

A deep rumble travels up his chest as he twists his face into a foreboding smile. “Of course not, my love,” he purrs, like a cat that finally got the cream. His hand twists within Tav’s hair, guiding her head upward to expose the long column of her throat. His eyes find her scars again and he sucks in a sharp breath, involuntarily jerking his hips into her core. Astarion’s arousal has flagged, though the promise of her blood has him twitching back to life.

Tav groans as she feels him swell within her, hooking her legs back around the small of his waist. Tears threaten at the corners of her eyes as she feels his gaze upon her. “Be gentle, please,” she pleads. Trembling hands rise to hold his shoulders as he moves into position, his mouth hovering above her neck.

Astarion peppers the underside of her jaw with kisses as he trails down her neck. “I would never dream of being anything but,” he speaks into her skin. He swipes his tongue over her mark, his mark, enclosing his mouth over the spot and suckling lightly. “You'll barely feel a thing.”

She could stop this. She should stop this. But instead, she lies in wait, bracing herself for the icy sting of his fangs piercing her flesh. Tav feels the points of his teeth press into her neck; she screws her eyes shut as they sink in, hands flying to the top of his head. She groans, gripping handfuls of silver hair.

He's right – the pain is only momentary, replaced by a familiar, comforting warmth. Astarion sucks in earnest, mouthfuls of her blood rushing down his throat. With his cock fully replenished, Astarion resumes a steady rhythm, thrusting in time with each pull of blood into his mouth. He groans against her skin.

He desires this, he desires me, Tav reassures herself. The edges of her vision are beginning to darken; a telltale sign that she's reaching her limit. “Astarion,” she says meekly, trying to alert him of her condition.

Yet, he continues to drink.

She pants against his forehead as she tries desperately to break free of his hold. Her strength is quickly fading, more of her vision fading with each pull of her blood into his mouth. Still his thrusts continue; a numbness starts to spread from her core throughout her limbs.

“Astarion…” Tav calls again, voice barely above a whisper.

The ceiling is the last thing she sees before she closes her eyes. Even behind her closed lids the room spins. One hand slips from the top of Astarion's head and onto the table, followed shortly by the other.

As she slips closer and closer into unconsciousness, Tav makes peace with the fact that she chose this. She knew this was a possibility. She knew he desired this, and she gave it to him. Willing.

He outplayed her.

A single thought races across her mind before she fades, of the artwork in the foyer.

The vampire bites the woman he desires.

Finally, Tav succumbs to the dark.

Astarion continues to drink.

----------------------------------

A/N: PHEW. Well. The art I referenced above I believe is a scene from a manga called "Blood Sucker," but I couldn't find an actual panel depicting the image above, even with reverse image searching. If anyone can find the actual reference, please feel free to inform me and I'll adjust the link. Translations for the Elvish are as followed: Ai armiel telere maenen hir - "You hold my heart forever" Thiramen - "I love you/my love" when referring to soulmates Thiramen eath’she - "I love you forever," again, in the context of soulmates Let shan nesh tel’quiet, thiramen - "Let go for me, my love," Sources are here & here

Hope you had fun reading!!

#astarion #ascended astarion #bg3 astarion #fanfiction #astarion smut #astarion angst #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x named tav #astarion ancunin #bg3 #my writing #astarion x durge #astarion x female tav #astarion x female dark urge #sotlc

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reiniesainyo · 3 months

Text

IN BETWEEN. charlie bushnell x reader – 01

01 | SPARKS FLY previous | next | masterfile

SYNPOSIS. when a girl's co-star is good to her and now she wants it more than everything in between. (smau)

A/N. this chapter is more like world building (it's where i explain what the fuck i'm doing with the YN okay)

The "Percy Jackson and the Olympians" series at Disney+ has added an unexpected pick to its growing cast.

The new live-action series is based on the hugely successful novels from author Rick Riordan of the same title. We will be seeing YN LN join the series as Rina Velasco, one of the supporting characters of the show.

LN's Rina Velasco is referred to as "the offspring of The Muses, goddesses of the sciences and the arts." Unlike most other demigods, she is born out of the artistic and scientific output of the muses. When the moral ingenuity of humans meets the divine musings of The Muses. Her character is described as a unique allrounder who becomes a mentor figure to our main cast as they embark on their journey.

This will be LN's first on-screen role of her career. LN's experience mostly lies in Broadway, she is known for playing Kim in the Miss Saigon revival on Broadway. LN was nominated for a Tony in 2022 for the same role. She is repped by Salonga/Chien Entertainment and B817 Agency.

Riordan posted on the Meta app, Threads, about this update to the casting saying: "YN was one of the actors we didn't expect to see a tape of but when we saw it, we couldn't help but fall in love with her. She embodies the spirit of Rina so well and is such a kind spirit, we can't wait for you to fall in love with her too! Welcome to the cast, YN!"

The live-action show is based on Rick Riordan's Percy Jackson book series. It tells the fantastical tale of the titular 12-year-old modern demigod (Scobell), who's just coming to terms with his newfound supernatural powers when the sky god Zeus accuses him of stealing his master lightning bolt. With help from his friends Grover (Simhadri) and Annabeth (Jeffries), Percy must embark on an adventure of a lifetime to find it and restore order to Olympus.

Production on the show is now underway in Vancouver. Riordan and Jon Steinberg are writing the pilot with James Bobin directing. Steinberg and his producing partner Dan Shotz are overseeing the series and serve as executive producers alongside Bobin, Rick Riordan, Rebecca Riordan, Bert Salke, Monica Owusu-Breen, Jim Rowe, Anders Engström, Jet Wilkinson, and Gotham Group's Ellen Goldsmith-Vein, Jeremy Bell, and D.J. Goldberg. 20th Television is the studio. Salke was formerly the president of Touchstone Television and originally put the show into development.

liked by percyseries, iamcharliebushnell, and 37,789 others thelnarchive the child of the muses @percyseries

percyseries OUR MUSE!

user1 this is literally perfect casting who cried i did ↳ user2 she's so rina coded! thank the gods for the casting directors

iamcharliebushnell only muse in my life ↳ thlnarchive only traveler in my life ↳ user3 the way filming hasn't started and they're already like this ↳ user4 their chemistry is chemistry-ing

user5 roman empire. she is my roman empire.

dior.n.goodjohn i LOVE LOVE LOVE women ↳ thelnarchive HELP i love you

user6 this is so fcking random but i NEED her in a taylor swift music video

A/N i truly hope you guys can forgive the horrible editing in the pictures. the article portion is based on (and has some parts that are directly pulled from) this article from variety ! here's some succint information about rina velasco, the PJO character YN LN plays (and is my childhood OC!) - rina velasco, filipino, 18 years old (year younger than luke) - she's an offspring of the muses, not directly a child or daughter, though she may be referred as such - by her being an offspring of the muses, i mean that she was born in the same way athena's children are born. - but in rina's case she's more like a weird conglomeration of each muse. her birth is a rare event, but her mothers are honored as minor goddesses so she stayed in the apollo cabin (connection to music) - rina operates as a guidance figure for the main trio, especially annabeth - she's also luke's love interest, there's a lot of tragicness and doomed romance stuff with those two - and for the sake of everyone, we pretend like the weird i love you from the books didn't happen !

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sixosix · 2 months

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US TRAITORS NEVER WIN | LYNEY

notes 3.1k words! hey guys, this series started before arlecchinos release, so if you're reading this post-arlecchino-release and wondering why she might be ooc — that's why!!

before you read! this chapter involves a lot of flashbacks going back and forth with the present narrative. To avoid confusion, you’ll notice the difference in tenses. hope you’ll be able to read without hassle!

warnings hostage situation, mentions of violence; it’s nothing explicitly gory, but be cautious if you want to read!

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

The stillness of the room feels like a slap to the face. As the 15-foot-tall doors shut with a thud, Lyney has nowhere else to look but in the heart of the room. There is no spotlight, but his attention is arrested by the dark claws leading up to none other than their ‘Father’.

"Lyney, Lynette," The Knave greets. Her legs are crossed, yet she takes up the entire couch anyway.

No, better yet, her presence floods the entire room, and Lyney is suffocated.

Usually, he'd have no problem with 'Father' addressing him directly; she’d done so multiple times as her successor. He could speak without stumbling, knowing he was doing his job and doing it right. But there's a new factor in play now, and he doesn't know what 'Father' would do if she finds out about you—if she hasn’t already found out about you.

A heavy weight settled over his limbs: fear, anticipation, or some emotion you’ll only ever learn when faced with a Harbinger. Lyney feels suffocated. Lyney wants to drop to his knees from the pressure of all of it. (He feels angry instead for thinking of caving in so quickly.)

He breathes in deeply and bows along with his sister. "'Father', welcome back," he says, grimly wishing he had meant it instead of this.

Arlecchino hums, her gaze icy. Lyney feels sweat gather on the back of his neck. He keeps his head hunched, and Lynette does the same. "Lovely party. I heard Tartaglia dropped by?"

"He said he was collecting debts," Lyney says.

Arlecchino laughed under her breath, though it was more like a huff from her nose. "He says that, but he's only here for personal business. Yet the Tsaritsa would let him, as usual.”

Lyney frowns. Personal? Although they could never turn away a Harbinger from entering the banquet, Lyney is positive they never invited him. And then he wonders if you only came because Master Childe was there—and he doesn’t like that thought at all.

“But,” Arlecchino says, selecting a champagne flute from the table by her feet, “we all know this isn't what we're here to talk about.”

Lyney carefully composes his expression, silent, lingering for her to say it first. Lynette’s tail flicks. Arlecchino scrutinized them.

“I heard about the mishap of a performance. That was supposed to be the night you were going to investigate the Oratrice, wasn’t it?”

Although she phrases it like an innocent question, Lyney could find the implications. You have failed.

She continues: “Were you ever planning to tell me about Y/N?”

Lyney was already expecting it, but to hear your name from her mouth made him wince. It turns out she already knew the answer.

Lyney finds his voice through some bout of a miracle. “Y/N’s not involved in this, I—”

“From what I heard, you haven’t investigated it, still, even when you performed again.”

It’s true. Lyney and Lynette could only perform safer tricks—Lyney wasn’t in the right state of mind to fully focus on his performance. And upon reconstructing their props, Lynette discovered they had used the wrong rope to tie up the water tank. It was all set up too hastily to try and rebuild it. But there was another reason: it slipped from his mind.

“She’s not part of the House anymore,” The Knave continues at Lyney’s guilty silence. “And I know you’re smart enough to realize she’s after intel. Whatever it may be, it has something to do with the Traveler after us. As a child of the House, would you irresponsibly let someone interfere with our mission like that?”

Lyney says, “It’s not like she would be against us—”

“She chose to leave. Aren’t you doing her decision a disservice by pulling her back?”

Lyney knew that this would happen. He knew well enough to predict what ‘Father’ would make them do, but still—

“We understand,” Lynette says, her eyes darting down to Lyney’s clenched fists.

The Knave stares at Lyney, and the strength of her stare has Lyney lowering his eyes to the floor. “Do you?” she asks. They wisely stay silent: Lynette’s hesitance and Lyney’s frustration. “Then I trust this won’t happen any longer.”

‘Father’ plucks an image beside her thigh, then reveals it. The Knave holds his gaze as his jaw goes slack.

You and Childe build an agreement to keep up the facade, though it was mostly because Childe owed Aether. Something about how Lord Tartaglia is a family man, you don’t really understand—he mentions many names, and you’re too hungover to remember who Tonia was.

You had never been so… chill with a Harbinger like that before, but he was alright. Discussing your previous experience as a Fatuu and understanding the terminology he threw around was nerve-wracking, but Lord Tartaglia didn't mind. He treated you as an equal. And though it was most likely because of Aether, it was a strange feeling you would never get used to.

When Childe vacated the Teapot (what the hell), Aether was on your business in a flash. He said that Childe went back to the banquet while you slept to evade suspicions but found something instead—a picture of Lyney.

“What?” You frown, inching away from Aether’s stare. “What does a picture of Lyney going around have anything to do with me?”

Never mind that you want to see it, though.

“It was a picture of you and Lyney,” Aether says. “Canoodling, like what Childe said.”

Aether grasps your horror and makes it worse by demonstrating a copy of the image blown up overnight.

It mainly was Lyney in the frame, hair mussed and looking very much like a damsel in distress with his pretty face. He was holding someone up, and you recognize who that dress belonged to right away because you’re still wearing it. If you gape long enough, you’d feel his warmth on your side. That wasn’t all, though. The picture had color, and the red mark on Lyney’s neck might as well have gouged your eyes out and called you stupid in itself.

The headlines: SCANDAL: MAGICIAN’S MAGIC WAND FOUND IN UNLIKELY COMPANY!

The reactions: Is that his lover? Is this an affair? Goodness, I’ve never seen Mr. Lyney so intimate with a woman before! Was this woman shamelessly draping herself all over him? Have some decency… Wait, what do they mean by his magic wand?

“Oh my fuck,” is all you can say, mainly because ice has begun to creep up the newspaper.

“Whoa,” Aether says, staring wide-eyed. He’s never seen you use your Vision before, even involuntarily.

You bury your face in your hands. If Aether saw the picture, who else could’ve seen it? The first name that appears to mind is Arlecchino, and although the mysterious, strangely-colored drink helped calm your headache, it was back in full swing at the flash of her face. This has to be on the highest level in the category of Fuck, this is a very Bad Situation.

“Do you show your face often?” Aether asks, gently prying the picture off your frozen hands. “I doubt anyone who doesn’t see you every day would be able to recognize you, but…”

“The only people who get to see me are customers when I’m helping out at the shop,” you say, remembering how much of a hassle it could be for Rosalie when the shop gets busy during February.

Your blood runs cold. Aether and Paimon startle when your fists slam on the table as you rush to exclaim, “Rosalie!”

It was pouring uncontrollably. The cup of tea was warm in your hands, but you couldn’t bring yourself to drink it when a strange woman sat across you, staring.

“Does it not taste right?” she asked. “Or are the clothes uncomfortable?”

The clothes were comfortable, but her eagerness to please you wasn’t. It was unsettling. Reminded you too much of someone. You had been thinking about how to tell her that she should throw away the clothes you were wearing previously—you’d rather dig up a hole and bury yourself there than see it again and relive everything.

The tea was starting to feel too heated. You flinched away, and some liquid splattered on the white tablecloth. You froze, stammering a weak, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she said, smiling gently. Her smile was somehow warmer than your drink. “You don’t have to drink it, but it could help you warm up. Set it down on the table for a while.”

You later learned her name was Rosalie. She owned this flower shop, though it hadn’t been doing well recently. All of the flowers looked lifeless and wilted. She was about to throw away the flowers outside before she saw you.

She never demanded why you were outside, alone, with ice on your arms. She never looked at you wrong. There had to be a catch that you were missing. But there was a thunderstorm outside, and you had an inkling that Lyney wouldn’t be above looking for you in the pouring rain. You didn’t want to risk it and find out, either.

Rosalie glanced at you, sensing your apprehension. “Do you have anywhere else to go for the night?”

You hesitated. You were raised to be a liar. But did you even have a reason to lie anymore? Quietly, you murmured, “No.”

Rosalie nodded in understanding, even though she didn’t know anything. “Then, would you please do me a favor and rest here for the time being?”

Why would it be a favor to her? What kind of manipulation tactic was this?

Rosalie laughed at whatever face you were making. “It would make me feel a whole lot better if I didn’t send out a child during this storm.”

Ah. That made more sense. Although it felt like she was still trying to appease you, it was a sufficient explanation you could believe.

You sipped your tea and felt a little less cold—if not for yourself, then for this strange but nice woman.

For the first time in a long time, you slept somewhere unfamiliar. You were too tired to argue last night about who was going to take Rosalie’s bed; honestly, you might have passed out mid-word from exhaustion. Rosalie’s bed was like a cloud—tearing your eyes open pained you physically.

And to make it worse, you didn’t want to wake up. Would Rosalie walk you back to the orphanage now that the sun was shining? Would you have to face ‘Father’s disappointment? Would you have to face Lynette’s? Freminet’s? Lyney’s?

The door creaked and you hurried to flutter your eyes shut, the hair on the back of your arms standing. You listened closely to the click-click-click of heels that inched closer to your vulnerable, supposedly asleep body. Your fists clenched, preparing to summon your weapon if necessary.

Instead, you felt the weight of… something warm settle beside you.

“Wake up soon,” Rosalie whispered. “The food will get cold.”

Yet she didn’t wait for a response. You heard her heels fade away as the door clicked shut.

You turned to your side and came face-to-face with a tray of breakfast. It was still warm. Everything about this place and the strange woman felt warm. You could’ve just been hungry, but it looked different from any food you used to be served with.

(It tasted twice as good, too.)

Rosalie gazes into the depths of nothingness. Her senses creep back to her, her limbs ache, and she cries out for help. Her first instinct is to move, but then she realizes she cannot. A sliver of light floods the floor from the crack of the door, but she doesn’t need her eyes to figure out she is tied to a chair.

Before she could react, a flashlight was pointed at her face. Fear churns inside her like thunder rumbling.

“You know what we’re here for,” the voice says, deep and impatient. “You’re lucky you managed to get this far without anyone killing you first."

Rosalie watches them warily. She doesn’t want to speak.

Then a new voice chimes in, much more feminine, yet also as unfriendly. “The kid. Tell us where you hid her.”

Rosalie frowns. “Kid?”

“Don’t act stupid,” the woman says. “The kid you adopted.”

Rosalie forces her expression to fall into something more blank. She does know what they’re talking about. Although you’re no longer a kid, you’re Rosalie’s kid, not theirs. Her arms are starting to numb from the tightness of the ropes. She has to leave now.

“You think acting dumb will save you? We already have proof you have the kid. You know who we are?” The man directed the flashlight to their outfits. Had Rosalie not been biting her lip so hard it was bleeding, she would’ve gasped. “We’re not someone you want to piss off.”

“Who would’ve thought; the Fatui kidnapping a woman who was never involved with the likes of you,” Rosalie says bitterly. She tastes blood on her tongue and can only hope they don’t see how she’s trembling. She has to be strong for you—one crack and you’d be in danger.

The woman with the purple hood sneers, “You’ve gotten yourself involved the moment you kept that House runt.”

Rosalie is a little bit lost. “What do you mean?”

When Lyney asked for your presence at the banquet, you turned to Rosalie for help. She was more than pleased about this; seeing her fret over you with such passion was warming.

You felt a little stupid dressing up this much. You reasoned to yourself—and to anyone who would ask—that it was to fit in, but Rosalie made a comment about how it seemed like you were off to impress someone, and it has not left your mind since.

Who would you even impress? The other orphans? The wealthy old men who would undoubtedly eye you up? Lyney? The thought had your face flame up for a reason you didn’t want to investigate. Would Lyney also wear something different? (Would Lyney notice it if you wore something different…?)

The polearm he had gifted lay in the corner of the room. You could easily look at it from here.

As she styled your hair, you found yourself blurting out a stupid question: "Have you ever been in love before?"

"Oh?" Rosalie's smirk could be seen in the mirror. "Who is it? Don't tell me it's that Outlander boy—Aether."

"What? No."

Rosalie nodded, satisfied. "He doesn't seem like the type of boy to settle."

You wondered if Lyney was the type to settle. Then you ended up wondering if Lyney still liked you enough or was just keeping a facade; Lyney wasn't above sweet-talking. It was part of his job.

"Well," Rosalie sighed wistfully. “I’ve had conversations with countless men and women that might have led to something deeper, but I never could find myself committing to it.”

She brushed your hair gently like you imagined a mother who loved you would. “Instead, I fell in love with the articles featuring different places. Mondstadt caught my eye the most—with their Windwheel Asters. Imagine running through a field of them as they spin along with the Mondsadt wind!”

Rosalie’s eyes were sparkling; you could tell, even from the mirror. They looked so far away as if imagining what it would be like. “Having them stored neatly in pots and vases didn’t feel the same,” she said.

"Really? Then..." Your face fell. Were you keeping Rosalie here? Was it your fault that she never got to explore?

“Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not true,” Rosalie said, pausing from brushing your hair to press her cheek against yours. “I also fell in love with something else one rainy day—an adorable little girl I swore I would care for as if she were my own. You aren’t keeping me bound, ma chérie.”

You held her gaze through the mirror, awestruck.

Rosalie smiled warmly, pecking your cheek. “I thought I was just sick of Fontaine—my own home. But I know if I leave you to fend for yourself, I’d get homesick.”

You and Aether reached the shop, but—

You know what it would look like, yet the sight of a chair toppled over doesn’t make it any easier. Your eyes sting the longer you look at it. Was Rosalie struggling? Were her cries muffled? Was she screaming for help while you were out drinking?

Aether warns you of any traps, but all they left is a hole in your chest at the dull air of the shop.

“She’s not—she’s not here,” you breathe. It’s the obvious, it’s clear as day: Rosalie’s been taken hostage. You should’ve seen this coming. Your past will never leave you. You should’ve never gotten involved with innocent Rosalie—you only deceived her—

“Y/N.” Aether’s voice is only a whisper, but you jolt out of your thoughts anyway. “Do you need to sit down? You’re shaking.”

Your eyes slip downwards and realize that the floor had been iced over. Some of the flowers freeze, then crumble.

You look away, ashamed to have shown your face to Aether when you’re vulnerable like a pathetic little child. “I can’t just sit down while Rosalie is out there, Aether. I can’t.”

Aether doesn’t look pleased, but he nods in understanding. “Should we get the Gardes involved?”

This would involve the Fatui—Lyney, the orphans, The Knave. Why would you drag other innocent people into this mess, too?

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. “I don’t know if it would make it worse.”

Rosalie couldn’t understand a thing. These Fatui were telling her that you were a Fatuu in an orphanage called the House of the Hearth and that you betrayed them and got Rosalie involved with the bounty painted on your back. But it would explain why you were alone and didn’t have anywhere else to go, why you had bruises and scars all over, and why you had the eyes of a seasoned warrior even as a child.

But she couldn’t understand why you never told her. Were you afraid of her? Did she give you a reason not to trust her?

Her chest aches, ashamed at her ignorance.

Then she blinks at the flood of light. The knife on her neck is promptly removed; and when she looks around wildly, she realizes that the Fatui were on either side of her, bowing deeply.

Her eyes couldn’t adjust right away, only processing a blur of a tall figure. The figure made its way towards Rosalie; she won’t admit it, but she’s terrified. But then the figure kneeled before her and presented a flower.

Rosalie’s eyes widen. “You’re—the woman with the Sneznhayan—”

The Knave’s dark eyes pierce through Rosalie’s. “I believe I owe you a talk, at the very least.”

notes omg hi lmk what u think! for me i think it was... very messy... and its about to get messier!!!!! but i hope u guys at least enjoyed:D tysm for reading! and reblogs and comments will get u a kiss from thawed!mc and lyney trust

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#606: THAWED #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x you #genshin impact x you #genshin impact #lyney x reader #lyney x you #lyney x y/n

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ronearoundblindly · 3 months

Text

Hideout (3.1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sensitive Boy, part I (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve surprises you with help at the perfect time.

Warnings for light smut (I have to split this chapter or it's just suddenly twice as long as the last, but really there's just massage and an implied orgasm in this half. You know me: too many feels and too much development...) MINORS DNI. This series is 18+ only. If you are underage or simply enjoy lighter content, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this post is not for you! WC 3.2k

With so much on your mind, scaring the crap out of you is not difficult, so his strong hands hold you upright.

“Don’t do that,” you shriek, barely glancing at Steve’s face. You startled so suddenly your housekeeping cart is left rolling away at a snail’s pace.

“Sorry, I—“ long arms abandon you and reach to stop the bin “—it said on your website you were closed for renovations, and…”

You look him up and down. You were sure after he left two months ago that you’d never see him again. You’d gone too far. You’d pushed him too hard. He wasn’t ready.

Steve adjusts the strap over his shoulder. “I thought maybe I could help out…if you want?”

The last guests checked out a half-hour ago, and you readied to spend the whole week meticulously refreshing each room with your parents. The list of what needs done, however, doesn’t only include the motel. There’s a bunch you all had let slide up at the house. Help would…be extremely helpful actually.

Steve pulls a paper bag out of his knapsack. “Or I brought you some lunch if you just want a break or something.”

“It’s okay,” you rush out. “More than okay. Thank you, yes. We’d love—I’d love that.”

No one else can know it’s him-him there though. You’ll have to think of a way to keep your parents and St-‘Grant’ as far apart as possible, and how long you can manage that is…questionable.

If Steve’s not worried though, you’re okay.

Turns out, keeping your family up at the house is easy. Your mom shouts down the phone with relief that she can tackle the fridge, and you hear your dad mumble something about ‘the garage in daylight.’ You can enjoy a sandwich in the office with Steve in peace, explaining what all needs done before the electricians show up Friday afternoon.

The closure hasn’t been planned for a long time—not even before Steve and ‘Tom’s’ last visit—hence why you just painted Room 8, 5, 2, and 1 since March, but doing all those is how you and your parents really noticed that the light fixtures from the ‘90s were not only dated but very worn and that the same color layered over and over again for twenty years was, well, getting old.

Warmer months are better for the work. Pipes won’t freeze while you air out paint fumes, etc. The week after the gigantic, city festivities of Independence Day is notoriously dead. Since there were no reservations this stretch as of April, the family jumped at the chance to fix it all in one big, daunting go.

Saying you’d looked forward to this is a wild overstatement. You’ll be glad when it’s finished, and that’s the bulk of your excitement.

With his assistance though? Hope soars.

Steve will help you take down the sconces, the hanging lamps, and the panels above the vanities, then you both can—

“Where’s the paint?”

He’s very intense with the gameplan. Three guesses why.

“Dad’s gonna pick it up today. Probably. I’ll text him.” You whip out your cell again. “We didn’t think we’d get that far by evening.”

Steve nods.

“We also need to move all the furniture away from the walls and drape plastic to protect the carpet. Oh, and put tape along the trim and doorframes, ya know.”

Steve nods again. He wads up the wrapping from his sandwich and casually asks, “are all the doors open?”

You only just get your finger in the air to point at the desk.

“Master key is—“

But Steve is observant and has clocked everything about his surroundings each time he’s stayed, apparently. He stretches over to the wall beyond the counter, snatches the (correct) unmarked key, and heads out the door.

The service bell rings gently to emphasize the conversation is over.

All furniture in every room is pulled away by the time you finish sanitizing the one guest room he interrupted.

He asks where you keep the ladder, not that he’ll need it, but you will for reaching some of the lights.

You don’t know whether to be in awe of or exhausted by his efficiency.

He’s rigid and militant—go figure—until these few moments he suddenly can’t be.

As you toss plastic over the last bed to move, Steve yanks that sucker across the floor so fast, you roll off. His eyes are saucers as he apologizes, but you get the giggles and pick yourself up.

His fingers can’t separate thin layers of the plastic at one point, and he throws a minor fit until three rip apart together. Steve frowns at you and grumbles that he’s only ever used cloth for this before. It seems to take everything in his power not to say “back in my day,” but you can read between the lines.

Years of crusted paint makes the removal of some fixtures tricky.

Steve rips out one stripped screw with needle nose pliers, squeaks in alarm at the hole left behind, and then quietly asks if you have patch paste.

You call your dad before he’s left to buy paint. He adds spackling to the list.

The closest Steve comes to telling you anything specifically about himself is when you struggle with a stuck bolt.

“Just a little trick I learned when I was—“ Steve wraps his big hand around yours to pull the wrench instead of push from the other direction “—smaller.” He huffs out a laugh, adding, “when I couldn’t, ya know, ‘put my weight into it’ because a feather could’a knocked me over.”

As you relish the simple contact of his fingers, you smile, too.

“Hmm. I heard you got into back alley scrapes.”

“If you heard that I won any of those, you were lied to.” He patiently waits for you to finish removing the bolt before he pries the aged metal and glass away from the old paint it’s stuck in. Steve sighs dramatically.

“Shoddy education these days…”

“I…” You tap his bicep with the claws of the wrench. “I can’t argue with that. We hear only what they tell us about…heroes.”

You should have known he’d shut down at that word, but it’s the truth. Even with him right in front of you, the only things you know about Steve Rogers are from books, newspapers, and the internet. At face value—looking directly into the face of this man—all of what you’ve been told is hogwash. It’s insufficient. It barely covers 1% of who this man is.

He teaches you tricks of the weak man’s trade because it helped him once, too. Today, he’s friendly. Not that he was unfriendly before, but Steve is so reserved he never reference the past, in general, i.e. that there was a past existence of like the planet much less him.

It’s the number one rule of Fight Club: you don’t talk about Fight Club.

If there was ever a real fight club, it’s the Avengers.

You have no official rules for what this is between you. You don’t have to to know that is the most important one. You do not talk about Fight Club. Steve isn’t afraid of silence, that much is clear, but he isn’t a fan. He tries—he is trying—to connect and relate. He can’t be a man of the people, however, if he can’t talk to the people.

It’s important: connection. You know with every fiber of your being that Steve deserves it, but even with unlimited, super-human strength, he cannot get himself out from between this rock and that hard place.

You do not talk about Fight Club, especially when you’ve been kicked out of Fight Club.

Today, though, he’s a little different, a little softer. Perhaps it’s knowing there are no other people in the building, perhaps he is truly more comfortable with you, but either way, Steve is not flat or off-putting.

His organized persona, his focus on the work, his indirect interactions and practical touch; they all fit here while he has a project. It’s the closest he can be to his old self, maybe even his real self, without mentioning the past—the fighting past—at all.

“You’re really good company,” you tell Steve, “even when you make holes in the walls.”

He tilts his head down and blushes. He shrugs as he takes the sconce out to the dumpster. Although he didn’t say it, you hope this is okay.

Either way, you relish it. The help. The touch. The silence. All of it.

You relish Steve.

Your dad brings by the paint, spackling, and a surprise of pizza for dinner while Steve is taping the baseboards in a corner. You introduce ‘Grant’ from afar and haul the cans and boxes from the car to the room, cataloguing all you two have finished to this point and what you’ll do before stopping for the night.

Dad is impressed. He’d suspected the three of you—you, he, and Mom, that is—might settle for slapping some paint up around where the electrician would install the new lights. No one planned on getting this far in one evening.

He won’t stand in the way of progress, so your dad simply calls out, “bit of an artist, are ya?”

Steve looks up, confident with only the side table lamps plugged in, he can barely be seen. “Just want to be useful,” he mutters.

You wink at your dad as he heads back to the still-running car. “Grant is a jack of all trades.”

You’re sure to thank him for the food and let him know all the motel stuff is completely covered for tomorrow, too. You’ll work as late as you can and start as early as possible.

Dad says your friend has gone ‘above and beyond.’ You agree wholeheartedly.

‘Grant’ would more aptly be described as a machine.

All the furniture moved, all the lights taken down, all bordering taped, and now all blemishes in the walls smoothed, your impromptu contractor finally calls it quits when he’s forced to watch stuff dry.

You’ve kept the air conditioning going in one room.

Steve tentatively asks if he should walk you up to the house, but you counter with “it’s not any less dangerous for an average guy alone to return” and a cheeky smirk. Besides, it is very late. You let Captain OCD keep going; you tapped out a while ago.

He puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, thinking of a comeback that never manifests. After giving up, Steve takes his tiny bag into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.

You can faintly hear it over the murmur of the TV.

You aren’t really watching. It’s background noise to your general exhaustion.

With only a side lamp and the screen as light, Steve’s bare feet crumple over the discarded plastic sheet on the floor. He falls into one side of the bed, fully-clothed and (finally) tired.

Though productive, the day has been a distant one, working in different rooms for most of it and tiptoeing around real conversation. You want him to feel appreciated, not pressured, so you ask if he’d like the TV on for a while or would rather quiet.

Steve just grunts with his eyes closed.

Gently, you place a hand on his chest to steady you, leaning to kiss his bearded cheek.

“Thank you, Steve,” you say softly. “Good night.”

He hums when you say his name, and before you can lift your hand away, he captures it under his, holding you in place.

His eyes aren’t open. He can’t see you smile wider.

“Okay.” You tuck yourself into his chest as he raises his other arm out of the way. “Okay.”

Your ear sits in the dip beneath his collarbone, listening to his steady heart, his thumb sweeping back and forth over you knuckles.

He smushes you closer to his side. You toss your leg over his.

You forget to turn off the TV.

He’s sanding the spackled spots by the time you wake, so you rub across his back and dismiss yourself to get breakfast up at the house.

Steve makes no effort to go with, which is fine. You assumed as much.

Your dad calls Grant a ‘magician’ over the pop of oil in the skillet and insists you give your friend whatever he needs to keep working so fast. You are only half-joking when you admit the key is staying out of his way.

Bonus: the exchange reinforces your parents simply leaving the two of you alone down the hill, and you proudly tell Steve that when delivering him an enormous plate of scrambled eggs.

He jumps right back into planning-mode and orders you to roll the first coat of paint onto large areas. He’ll follow, completing the edges and corners.

It’s such a domestic thing to do. There is no one in danger, there are no bodies piling up if he makes a wrong move, and he can go faster or take his sweet time. Steve breaks when he wants or needs to. He sits outside and listens to the birds in the sunshine. No one is around to question him, not even you. You are only there to encourage.

You realize he was looking for a project. He’s used to—and likes—being busy, getting his hands dirty, producing results.

It’s a long, messy day where he becomes more serene in spirit the more intensely he works. You reward him with gentle sweeps of your hand down his arms, pats on his shoulders, and brushes at the small of his back.

Despite the almost constant movement, the day is over before you know it, earlier than yesterday, but it’s too hot to go on.

All the windows stay open to air out the fumes.

Though it won’t stop you from sweating, you both shower off as many splatters and flecks of paint as you can. You insist he goes first so there’s plenty of hot water.

He’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, checking his phone when you come out of the bathroom, but he immediately squirrel the device away in his small bag. Not much to carry around. Not much to leave behind. Steve can’t leave a trace of himself anywhere.

Hunched over and fatigued, he flashes a polite smile your way and blinks heavily.

He deserves the world.

You grab the small bottle of lotion from the countertop and playfully jump onto the bed behind him.

“How about a massage, yeah? You much be aching.”

Honestly, you don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but the phrase comes out downright dirty, making Steve awkwardly chuckle.

“You don’t have to,” he placates.

“Nonsense, I want to. It’ll make the air feel cooler.” That’s as good of an excuse as any. Who cares when the rippled expanse of his back flexes wildly in your touch?

His breathes are audible from the beginning.

You dig at his traps, his leg bouncing as he tries to relax. You use your thumbs, the flats of your hands, and your knuckles.

He shoves his fist in his mouth when he starts to moan, covering the move with a cough, but muffling the noise is abandoned in favor of clasping over his lap. He’s intent on hiding his hardness this time. There’s nothing you can say to truly lessen the sting of needing more. You can’t simply tell him he’s allowed to desire this; you have to ignore his misplaced shame.

But you can take pity on him.

“If you lie flat—“ you step off the bed to give him privacy “—I’ll have more leverage.”

You hear him crawl and adjust on the sheets. “Unlike the torque on a wrench,” you add, just to show you’ve been listening to him.

More lotion is needed for the surface area.

You turn up the TV, feining interest in the late night show so any noise he makes is not as obvious. What the speakers can’t cover, however, is Steve’s involuntary thrusts when you rub the heels of you palms up and down the sides of his spine. If you prop up on your knees, he has more range of motion and doesn’t obviously rock you while mindlessly humping the bed.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, two darts of muscle prominent above his ass.

They are irresistible, the perfect grooves to target and roll into, and he immediately mewls long and deep into the mattress, fingers curling and relaxing while his body seizes.

He hasn’t even finished coming, you think, before he taps at your leg and races to the bathroom.

You hope you didn’t push too far. You hope he’d tell you to stop if he needs more space, more time. Mostly, you hope he knows you’d give him every conceivable pleasure, just because he is him.

The water runs a long time, continuous splashing in the sink, and then nothing.

He didn’t bring much because he doesn’t have much. Your heart sinks, realizing you’ve made him soil one of only two pairs of pants he has here.

He cracks open the door, muttering, but you can’t make out the words.

You turn the volume back down. “What?”

“It pretty hot.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I sleep…without…?”

“Naked?” you squeak before composing yourself. “That’s fine. Whatever’s comfortable.”

You shuffle up the bed to click off the lamps. This man isn’t the type to strut around in the nude—yet, anyway—so in the faint and ever-shifting glow of the screen across the room very little can be seen.

‘Little,’ however, can’t describe anything that is visible about the man emerging from the bathroom.

You have to make a point not to stare, but no skit or commercial on the channel promises the same level of entertainment.

Steve slides himself beneath the sheet, sitting near the headboard.

You hold up the remote. “On or off?”

“Off,” he says, “please.”

You’ve certainly done enough for one day. You won’t push your luck, so you hit the power button, toss it on table, and snuggle into your half of the bed, facing away.

“If it’s too hot for any covers, that’s okay, too.”

A rustling interrupts the rhythmic whir of crickets in the night until you feel a warm hand lightly mold to your waist.

This should be encouraged. This should be rewarded.

“Hey, Stevie,” you whisper, waiting for his hum, “happy belated birthday.”

At most you expect a grip of notice, but instead, the big hand snakes across you and hauls you into his chest, his long legs bending to match the crook of yours, his nose and forehead tucked against your occipital.

“We did okay today,” Steve mumbles into your shirt.

You walk your hand over your stomach to find his, lacing the fingers together. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

Steve got to be useful today. He had a partner today. He will tomorrow and the day after, for as long as he stays, for as long as you’re alive. Nothing can change that.

Maybe he can’t talk about Fight Club, but he connects with you anyway.

A/N: Whoopsy. Didn't want to make y'all wait for a 6k+ chapter, so here's the first half! I am DEEP in the feels of this one. So, so many notes have been taken. The brainrot is real, and I fucking love it!!!!

[Next: Sensitive Boy, part II]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @spectre-posts @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @deandreamernp @im-a-slut-for-fluff @fangirl-swagg @georgeweaslysgirl @austynparksandpizza @claireelizabeth85 @jamneuromain @rach2602 @royalwritersoftheuniverses @shelbygeek @rogersideup @eyebagsanonymous @trudy-shams @saranghaey @awkwardgiraffe726 @marvelmenwhore @happinessinthebeing @before-we-get-started @sjsmith56 @esposadomd @cjand10 @yearningforsappho @mrsevans90

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askblueandviolet · 1 month

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Ask Box for Macaque is Open!

Macaque is... Struggling to figure out how to fix the theatre room. But hey it's the effort that counts right? Unfortunately, Macaque isn't really trying. You can ask him any questions, he'll take it as an excuse to get out of working (he is also aware of everything that has happened in the chapter).

The ask box will be open for 24 hours so have fun!

(Also, I did in fact use a reference for this background:)

Update: Ask Box is Closed!!!

MASTER POST

Previous 💙💜

Next 💜

#lego monkie kid #lego monkie kid fanart #monkie kid #monkie kid fanart #lmk #lmk fanart #monkie kid macaque #blue and violet #lmk macaque #silly monkie trying to fix his mistakes #honestly this chapter was just me wanting to bully him a little

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shuttershocky · 4 months

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That previous TM post reminded me of something.

What really tells me the Koei Tecmo writers did their homework with Type-Moon is how Fate/Samurai Remnant slightly changes the TM theme of decay to portray that Iori has something wrong with him.

A common trope that Nasu likes to weave into his stories is how the people living today are living in the past's skeletons. Unlike a lot of media that tends to portray the past as some grandiose and magical time that met an untimely end from disaster, the past wasn't always great, it was just... Large.

A theme of slow decay permeates a lot of Nasu's works. Once, the Nanaya, the Ryougi, the Asakami, and the Fujou were fearsome, powerful clans of oni hunters, but over time they all fell to ruin slowly, with only the Nanaya really having a singular incident that can be pointed to for their fall. The Tohno were (and still are) an incredibly wealthy and influential family of oni in the guise of businessmen, but one cruel act out of line after another, and there's just an enormous, empty mansion containing a single Tohno, the family dead or scattered. Mahoyo's longest chapter takes place in a lavish, abandoned amusement park, filled with everything from a multistory house of mirrors to a giant rollercoaster where everything still works, but couldn't survive more than a few years, a foolish waste of a fortune. Kara No Kyoukai is about a rich girl that grows increasingly distant from her wealthy noble family until she leaves them to live in a completely empty apartment instead, the flashbacks to the Ryougi family showing no warmth or nostalgia despite the luxury.

Even Fate, the series all about digging up ghosts of the past and showing you how kickass these guys are, always goes into how heroic spirits are often filled with regret, having led bloody and tragic lives that caused them so much pain and yet meant that they would be remembered forever—literally removing them from the cycle of death and reincarnation to be put into another one where they are reborn and killed on a mage's whims.

The past was grand, wealthy, larger than life, and it rotted from the inside out and failed the people living today, who have to build new, simpler lives from the pieces, but might be happier that way.

FSR does something similar, though with an important difference. Just like in other TM works the past in FSR is larger than life, being the Sengoku period and the Shimabara rebellion, with both the incredibly cool sword saints and horrific massacres, but the people living today (1651) could not be happier about living in a peaceful, much more insignificant time and have no interest in what they left behind whatsoever. They're not living in the decaying remains of the past, they've rebuilt on top of it completely. You would have to be insane to look back even out of curiosity, because that would be staring into unimaginable bloodshed.

Nowhere is this better illustrated than Nasu himself talking about how the name "Miyamoto Musashi" is seen today, compared to in 1651 after Musashi had just died.

A sword-saint now, a legend, and at 60 duels with 60 wins probably the most skilled duelist to have ever lived, but for his contemporaries, he was a terrifying man that killed dozens to prove his martial skill. Nobody in Miyamoto Iori's time remembers him for being Musashi's son the way we do.

But Iori, Iori looks back. The first hint was that servants always have some connection to the master, and there's seemingly nothing in common with the king and god-slayer Saber and the humble Iori. The next was Saber's reaction seeing Iori's seemingly fearless behavior towards an enemy that could kill him in one blow (something you don't even need New Game+ to see btw, I haven't played NG+ myself lol), it was recognition.

There's a reason why Iori's main rival is Chiemon, a character whose only defining trait is being unable to let go of the bloodshed he experienced in the Shimabara Rebellion.

In FSR more than in any other Type-Moon title, the past is buried deep to the point where it can barely be seen, and yet inside Iori is the desire to dig it up. Study it. Surpass it. Find his father resurrected in his prime and kill him (her) again, to prove he would have been an even more terrifying monster than she ever was, had he been born just a little earlier.

There's something wrong with him.

#Fate Samurai Remnant #FSR spoilers

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asumofwords · 9 months

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Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Oh my GOSSSSSH, with every chapter I post, we get closer and closer to the end and I'm literally wriggling in my chair in excitement, like holy shit! hahaha, anyway, I so hope you enjoy this new chapter and the remaining ones to come! ENJOYYYYY <3

Chapter 101: The Merciless Queen

“If we are to give Flea Bottom gold to build new dwellings, whose to say that the other small folk across the realm won’t decide to take arms and demand the same?” Lord Tyland Lannister, elder brother of Jason Lannister and Master of Coin argued, seated amongst the other Small Council members who seemed to be in a disarray since the slaying of their previous King, Aegon.

It had been a few days since his death, and whilst Aemond and yourself could not keep your hands off of each other, there was no denying the tension that still circled around the two of you.

You had been coronated as Queen Consort, a short lived affair in the throne room with only the Small Council present, letters written to be sent out shortly thereafter to their supporters. There was no celebrations to be had, no drinking or dancing. It was short, brief, and most importantly, political move.

And now, all sat in wait for the more pressing question at hand.

What was to happen to the treaty?

And yet despite this question, and the sheer multitude of meetings with the council, Aemond let the unknown hover over your head like smoke, filling your lungs thickly and choking you.

When once Maester Orwyle had asked the same question, which was asked more than once a day, Aemond had barely given the man a second glance, and redirected the question elsewhere.

In no time however, much to the urging of Otto Hightower and Lord Jasper Wylde, word would soon reach Dragonstone, and the Green Council would need to be ready for such events.

There was a very real possibility that at the knowledge of Aegon being indisposed of, and the Greens thus only having one dragon rider, may invoke the wrath and fury of all the Black’s power.

And in this moment, they had it.

And the council, knew it.

There was an all encompassing feeling of dread that filled each member. The anticipation being a most poisonous thing, and at any loud noise or uncertain sound, Alicent Hightower would jump in her seat, eyes skating to the doors of the chamber they were in, or looking out the window to the skies.

“Then see to it that they do not.” Breezed Aemond, the Conquerors Crown seated atop his head, ruby glinting in the light of the chambers.

“I do not see why we need to do so in the first place, Your Grace.” Maester Orwyle spoke, “The small folk are not in need or want, nor do they know more than what they have.”

Aemond blinked slowly, finger impatiently tapping on the table as he looked at his men and mother, the gold ring upon is finger clunking on the wooden surface.

“We have the gold, not much, but enough. As it is, their disdain for us was exaggerated by my brother and his selfish disregard for their needs." Aemond began, "I couldn’t care for what they do below in their shit and piss, but my Lady wife has spoken of the benefits of having the love of the small people, and we are in dire need of support.”

You shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling the eyes of all the Lords at the table, and the ever present scowl of Alicent Hightower directed at you. Swallowing, you licked your lips, fingers finding your council sphere and spinning it in its dish.

“My mother is loved by the small folk, as was I,” Before they dubbed me the Merciless, “‘The Realms Delight', they named her, most beloved and fair, much the same for my sweet aunt Helaena."

You paused, letting your gaze stop on Alicent, "Where as when they think of the King, they have little good things to say. Two Kinslayers on the throne would no doubt further press their disdain." You turned back to Aemond, "The support of the common folk is important when ruling, it makes things easier, and if the time comes, they will take up arms to support your cause.”

Larys Strong’s voice carried across the table, his high lilt directed at you. His hands were crossed over the top of his cane delicately between his knees at the table, “My spiders have told me that there are ample supporters of your rule, Your Grace.”

You scoffed, “Supporters of the Faith perhaps, or the whispers of the old militant sect even, but that support lies with Alicent, and they would surely have issue with mine and Aemond's union, as is our tradition as Targaryens, and also the very issue of us both being Kinslayers," You looked to Alicent, "Which we are very much reminded of. But the small folk, the true small folk who live in poverty, where sickness and disease is ripe, have no positive feelings of loyalty towards a King who does not see them and gorges upon riches unimaginable. My father took to the streets and killed every rapist and murderer in Flea Bottom, punished thieves and crooks, and the small people felt safer.”

“They were scared out of their wits.” Otto sighed, “The small people need nothing but the clothes on their backs. Simple minds think not of extravagant pleasures.”

Anger rolled through you, “Having proper housing and not living in the streets is not an extravagant pleasure. I would say it is a right for them to live freely and happily, to pursue their desires and passions.”

Jasper Wylde placed his long fingers upon the sphere, several gold and silver rings adorning the digits, “The Queen makes a point, Your Grace. King Jaehaerys was loved by the small folk for his benevolence, and the actions of Maegor the Cruel brought him nothing but trouble. Perhaps the spending of a few Gold Dragons on Flea Bottom’s worse affected slums could bring you support, especially now that the treaty is in question.”

Lord Jasper Wylde, Master of Laws, opened the conversation for the treaty to be discussed.

Again.

All eyes were now on Aemond, who sat stiffly in his chair, one elbow upon the armrest, the other still tapping against the table.

“Has word reached Dragonstone?” Aemond questioned Larys, noncommittally.

The brunette leant forward, bowing his head slightly as he spoke, “As it were, a spider intercepted an attempt to alert them. Though I have no doubt they will receive word by the morrow.”

The King hummed.

“Will the treaty be renewed, Your Grace?" Maester Orwyle began, eyes flicking to you, then back to the King, "I believe it to be prudent that we do so. As it were, we are outnumbered in dragons. You are but the lone rider here at the Keep.” You narrowed your eyes at Maester Orwyle, “Perhaps if we sent word and new terms, Rhaenyra will be-“

“-No.” Aemond’s word cut through the air like a knife. Crisp. Icy.

Final.

“No?” Otto questioned, “The realm will fall to war again if-“

Your heart beat against your chest like a drum, iciness spreading across your skin and at the base of your skull.

No.

“What do you mean, no?” You breathed.

Aemond did not turn to face you.

You snapped, “If you do not sign a treaty, they will come for you, Aemond. My mother and father will come to claim what is theirs.”

The King’s nostrils flared, “Let them. I ride the largest dragon in the world. If my half-sister wishes to declare war at the risk of your safety, then it shall be your blood upon her hands, not mine.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“My blood?”

Aemond did not even turn to face you.

Your hands slammed against the table, and you shot out of your chair, leaning towards your husband as you sneered, "Have you learnt nothing? You are blinded by your hatred. You will be our ruin, not Aegon.”

Aemond breathed sharply, eye solely on you as he spoke to the table, “Send coin to Flea Bottom. Hire masons and workers, or let the small folk build it themselves.” He looked to his men before finishing, “Clear the chambers.” He commanded the room, and all Lords and Lady Alicent, stood and quickly shuffled out of the room, leaving Aemond with an enraged wife.

“Are you to doom us all with your stubbornness? Have you gone mad?” You growled, “Your thirst for the throne will kill us, Aemond. My mother and father are not to be trifled with. My brother and sisters are not to be trifled with. Do you think that we will survive this?”

Aemond simply stared at you, hand still on the table tapping, whilst the other gripped the arm of the chair fiercely, knuckles white.

“Is it your true desire to have another war? Or is this a foolish little boys dream?” You said in disbelief, looking down at him from your standing position, hands still flat against the table to ground you, “I barely survived the last one, and yet you wish to play games with my mother and father? With my life? Do you know what they will do to you? What they could do to you? You would be dead before you even reached the skies.” You sneered.

The King’s lips pulled into a thin line, brows furrowed as he looked at you, barely contained anger burning behind the violet of his eye.

“They would not do it if it meant jeopardising your life.”

You flinched backwards, as though he had hit you, curling your hands into fists at your sides as you tried to steady your breathing, but panic coursed through your veins, and your throat grew tighter with each passing second.

"Is that a threat?”

Aemond frowned at you, the lines in forehead pulling the crown down in the slightest of movements. It was as though he was offended by your question, and though you had questioned every natural fibre of his being.

“You think I would harm you? After all that has happened? After all I have done for you?” His voice became raised, anger leaking into each syllable.

You scoffed, “You just said that them acting would put me at risk. What will you do? Have Ser Cole at my side, sword ready to cast against my neck or plunge into my heart?”

Aemond leant forward and sneered, “Do you truly think so lowly of me? I did this for you! I love you!”

“Then do this for me, too! Renew the treaty, Aemond.”

“I can’t do that.” He breathed.

The backs of your calves hit the edge of the chair as you leant back, looking at your uncle from down your nose, “You can. But you won’t.”

Aemond did not respond.

“Sign the treaty.” You said more sternly, anger causing the words to come out harsh, and biting.

The King's broad chest rose and fell in his robes shallowly, his one eye watching you as his hands flexed upon the table.

“Why do you wish to sign a treaty with them? After all they have done?” Aemond growled.

After all they had done?

“They cast you aside! Abandoned you here to be tormented by Aegon.” Aemond continued, voice rising.

“They did not abandon me!” You snapped, hurt and betrayal causing tears to prick in your eyes.

“Oh? But they knew what would happen to you once you were wed to me. They let you be raped. You were sold to me like a brood mare.”

“And who did those things to me?!” You screamed, a tear falling down your cheek, “Who, Aemond? Who raped me? Who defiled me? Who scarred me? Because it wasn’t them.”

Aemond’s anger seemed to bleed out of him as he looked at you.

You pushed the chair backwards hard with a kick of your foot, sending the high-backed wooden seat to crash against the stones loudly, “You raped me. You hurt me. You did that. Not them. You! You act as though you’re innocent in all of this!”

“I don’t-“

“-I will not survive another war.”

The anger was back.

Aemond’s lips curled in disgust, “You expect me to bend the knee to your mother? The very woman who wished to punish me after her son took my eye?”

Your face fell, “No.” You declared, “I expect you to give the treaty a chance. Countless lives will be lost if you start another war, Aemond. Needless blood will be shed. Could you live with yourself knowing this?”

“Yes.”

The answer came so quickly, that it seemed that Aemond had not even needed to give it a second thought. As though he had already weighed all possibilities against each other, as though he had measured the odds.

And still, he had said yes.

You swallowed thickly, wishing the damn lump to leave your throat. And so quietly, you asked a question which clawed at you from the back of you mind. A question of doubt. Of fear. Of another ‘what if’ that you had to bat away with a swift blink of your eye.

“Even if it is mine?”

It was an uncomfortable sort of silence, and this time, Aemond did not answer straight away. Not like how he had a moment before. As though he had not weighed up this question in his mind yet, or perhaps he had, and had come to no conclusion. You watched his face as he stared at you, his seeing eye flickering across your face as a finger twirled the ring upon his hand.

“I will not lose you." He began, making a move towards you, "But I will not bend a knee to Rhaenyra, and kiss her old cunny for the sake of peace.”

His tone was final, he had hissed your mothers name like a curse, and there was no changing his mind. No shifting of the tide that had been steadily building for months now, a tide which had moved away from the shore, sucking the water and life away from the beach, revealing the jagged rocks that were hidden beneath.

You blinked again, another tear falling down your cheek.

Your uncle continued, “And if it need come to war, then so it shall be.”

It was so point of fact.

So emotionless.

Toneless.

Void of anything other than finality.

War was to come.

And there would be no changing that.

“But,” Aemond’s voice startled you from your thoughts, your eyes racing over his face, “You are Queen now. My Queen. Something that is and was always your birthright.”

“Like my mothers.” You sneered.

Aemond ignored your comment and continued, “And you, as Rhaenyra’s heir shall sit the Iron Throne in her place. And then, when the time comes, our heir shall follow."

It was clear to you then, that Aemond had thought on this.

"If Rhaenyra’s concern for succession is blood, then she can be satiated in knowing that the daughter she denied shall sit where she is owed by her birthright.”

You stepped towards him, hands clenching and unclenching, “Aemond, please. Think about this. You are asking me to depose my mother.”

“I ask nothing of you. I am telling you, zaldritsos. I will not have you be pushed aside again for your bastard brother. I will not bend the knee to my half-sister. This throne is ours. It is ours by birthright. And I will be damned if I let anyone take you away from me again."

The air in the chambers shifted, and you inched towards your husband as he continued to speak.

"Do you think that if I bent the knee to them, that your father would let you stay wed to me? Think on it a moment, Y/n. Do you think that your mother would let you stay wed to a monster? The man who killed her son? They will take you from me."

You stepped away from him, turning your back as your mind raced a as you looked around the chambers, eyes casting out the veranda at the clouded skies. Dread settled in your gut.

You didn't want to be parted from him.

You loved him.

The air was charged as you spoke, voice shaking, “So what now? Are you to send word to them?”

Aemond stood behind you, the chair scraping against the stone floors.

“I will be sending Otto and Ser Cole to Dragonstone as envoys to give word to Rhaenyra and Daemon. They will be told that their blood sits upon the Iron Throne as Queen. They will be allowed to live where they do. My half-sister can have Dragonstone, I have no need for it when I have Kings Landing and you. And they will bend the knee.”

You shook your head, still not turning to face him, “You should know that they will not.”

“Not if you don’t encourage them.”

Your eyes widened as you spun on your heel to look at him.

He was deathly serious.

“You wish for me to ask them to bend the knee to you?” You laughed.

Aemond frowned, “A letter from the Queen is a hard one to refuse. Especially if the Queen is their own daughter. Tell them of the fears that you have. That war will break if they do not swear me as their King and you as their Queen. They can remain on Dragonstone, and you shall remain here, with me. Where you belong.”

He seemed so sure that it would work. So sure that a simple letter from you would bring the water back to shore. But the tide was gone from your reach, and you were anchored on the coast atop a beached ship with no way to get off.

Aemond stepped forward, cupping the side of your face gently as he looked at you, "They will listen to you.”

You grasped his wrist tightly, “I am not so sure.” Your voice was quiet, so fragile, like the finest of glass from Essos. One octave higher, one shift against your throat could cause them to crack or break.

If you did this, you would be betraying them.

You would be deposing your mother.

Aemond pulled you into a reassuring kiss, one he poured love and adoration into as he cupped your face in his hands. When he pulled back, his eye roamed your face softly, “I do not wish to see bloodshed, nor do I wish to see you harmed. This is the only way, surely you can see that."

And you did.

You did see that.

You saw it all clearly.

Your husband pressed another kiss against the top of your hairline, your eyes sliding shut as you breathed through your nose, preparing yourself for what you had to do.

"I trust that my Queen will know what to do.”

And you did.

You knew what you had to do.

And so with a short nod, you agreed to his terms.

“I will have Otto deliver your letter by hand.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

Tag List:

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Bold is who I cannot tag!

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kathaynesart · 7 months

Text

The circle has begun to turn, whether by design or mistake has yet to be seen.

BEGINNING || PREVIOUS || NEXT MASTER POST

If you're looking for an extra bit of flavor, a song that has kind of become Mikey's Theme for me helped inspire this sequence (specifically 3:15-3:55).

Just one more update and we'll be finished with this chapter finally! I was originally going to post the whole finale here, but decided it was just getting too long. Will post the last bit soon!

#rottmnt replica #replica #rottmnt #save rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #unpause rise of the tmnt #unpause rottmnt #kathaynesart #future mikey #baron draxum #future april #tw blood #cw blood #blood

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petrapalerno · 3 months

Text

Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #6

Surprise--Double chapters today! Also a tiny bit of housekeeping, I've changed the alien's skin from blue to purple. Chapters have been changed retroactively to support this. XOXO, Petra

Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.

TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, breath play, and violence.

MASTER POST

You really didn’t put up much of a fight for the whole ‘mated to Drohako’ thing, and the alien barbarian almost gives you time to reconsider yourself between orgasms...But maybe it’s for the best you’re not overthinking this one too much.

Currently, you’re having trouble forming any thoughts as your alien barbarian mate won’t stop eating you out.

You grab a set of his horns and pull, with all your might, to get him to release your super sensitive clit from between his lips.

Your hips press into the ground as you do everything you can to escape his attentions.

But Drohako’s tongue doesn’t stop, and his fingers push his dripping seed back into your pussy as he does.

Even though his knot released what feels like hours ago, he won’t let you find any rest.

“So wasteful of my seed, little human,” he growls into the apex of your thighs. “Don’t you fucking dare let a drop leave your cunt!”

Once he’s scooped the spilled cum from your thighs and plugged it back up into you, he puts two knuckles at your entrance like a cork.

“Drohako, I’ve got to be more cum than water at this point!” You yelp as his tongue laps firm circles all round your swollen clit.

“Don’t care, shut up now, human. Be good for once,” he mutters before resuming his sucking.

Another orgasm? You can’t let that happen again. There has to be a limit to how many orgasms the human body can handle, right? What if this is the one that makes your heart give out?

When you realize that trying to pry him off you by the horns isn’t working, you shove your hands down as a barrier between your oversensitive flesh and your alien mate’s tongue.

He growls, letting one of his sharp teeth break the skin of your knuckle before gathering your wrists easily in his massive palm. He pins your hands above your head and continues to feast on you ravenously.

“Drohako, st-stop. It��s too much,” you whine as your nerves are firing so aggressively you’re afraid your brain might short circuit.

“Stop? You were so eager to come just a few minutes ago. I’m just giving you what you want. If the pleasure is too much, consider it a consequence of your own actions,” Drohako pops his head up and snarls at you before diving back down.

It’s like you're running a marathon, but actively attempting to avoid the finish line. You’re exhausted. The muscles in your core are burning from overuse. Your pussy is probably still gaping from his knot, and your entrance stings where his knuckles plug you up.

You can’t come again, you don’t have it in you.

At least that's what you tell yourself as you feel your muscles coil and tighten.

“I—I—I can’t,” you sob with each agonizing pulse.

“Be a good fucking girl,” he growls, pushing your thigh down as it attempts to snap closed over his head.

“Be a good girl and I’ll reward you. Listen to your mate.”

He speaks as if you could stop the freight train of an orgasm that crashes into you.

Instead of the usual enjoyable clenching feeling, your body shakes uncontrollably.

Your eyes roll back as he presses his tongue against you, undulating as some kind of agonizing pleasure rips over your body.

The noises coming from your mouth sound like an injured animal and you’re not sure if you’ve squirted or wet yourself.

Do you even care? It seems like an unimportant detail. You’ve already lost control of your motor skills.

You can’t even remember your own name as Drohako slows his pace. The furious licking of before is replaced by him running his tongue over your outer lips, just skirting the sensitive and swollen flesh of your privates.

Are your eyes shut or open? The only thing in your field of vision is blackness.

You’re still twitching when he gathers you up in his arms. He lays you on some soft platform, and you can hear the sloshing of water.

Starting at your brow, Drohako swipes a wet cloth down your face. Your sight slowly comes back into focus, as you see purple hands wringing out red water into the bowl. Slowly and methodically, he wipes the dirt and sweat from your skin. The hours you’ve spent fucking on the cave floor have tinged your skin crimson, similar to this planet’s red earth.

He wets it again and drags it over your tits and torso. You stiffen as his hands dip, expecting him to wash your still throbbing pussy. He pauses at your body’s reaction.

“Calm down human, my tongue cleaned there enough,” he says unusually softly.

“Oh, okay,” you croak out a little awkwardly.

The cloth drags down the outside of your hips and to your bare feet. You try to tug your foot back as it tickles when he moves the cloth between your toes.

“Stillness, please,” Drohako asks with exasperation more than anger.

“Sorry,” you tell him, too spent to brat any further.

When he walks away, you’re wondering what’s next. Will you finally sleep? Will he drag you into the healing spring and try to get you back into fucking shape?

Do you dare ask him for rest?

When he comes back, he has a bowl that looks like it was cut from some kind of dried gourd. He dips his fingers in and scoops out a thick and goopy substance.

You push up onto your elbows, groaning as you do, the occasional shake still wracking your body at random intervals.

“What’s that?” you ask suspiciously.

“Rendered kurthari fat, with herbs,” he says plainly as he warms it between his palms. You can smell the sweet plants as the oils release with the friction of his hands.

“And what exactly are you planning to do with it?” You arch a brow, unsure of where this is going.

“Your reward, as long as you keep behaving,” a hint of a smile cracks his face.

You can’t go again…and why the fuck does he think he’s going to need lube now if he’s found it unnecessary for his enormous cocks before?

“Drohako, I really can’t fuck. I’m spent—“

“Lie on your stomach, human.” He says, rolling his eyes with annoyance.

“I’m serious, you’ll hurt me if we go much longer,” You get a panicky edge to your voice.

As he listens to you, his face softens.

“I will not fuck you. Calm down. Remember, if you listen to your mate, you will be rewarded.” He speaks soft and low. The usual spark of viciousness is gone from his eyes.

“Promise?” You ask him, only a little desperate.

“Lie down and be quiet,” he whispers, putting his slick hands on your hips and turning you over.

Your face buries into a pile of furs, and you realize for the first time that he’s placed you into some large curtained bed.

“You have a bed and we’ve been fucking on the floor all day?” You bark at him, shocked at the revelation.

“You seem to enjoy being fucked into the dirt.”

Well, he’s probably not wrong.

When his hands grab the meat of your ass, you tense. You can’t help it.

“Drohako, please,” you whisper, hoping that whatever he has planned won’t break you.

His fingers dig deep into one of your hip joints, like he’s searching your muscles for something.

“What are you doing?” You swivel your head to get a better view.

He doesn’t answer you, but lets his fingers glide over your flesh until he finds a spot of tension. His palm presses and kneads a knot in your glute. The pressure is slightly painful, but in a way where you know your body will thank him later.

“…are you massaging me?” You ask in disbelief.

“Humans must be quite an advanced species to decipher such mysteries,” he scoffs sarcastically before moving to your other hip.

“I just thought that you were going to, I don’t know—ugh,” you grunt as he gets deeply into a ball of muscle.

“You thought I would rape you?” He says coldly.

“I, I mean…”

“I’d fall upon my blade first,” he says as he moves to the small of your back. “It’s my job to protect my mate and to ensure you’re safe and happy to carry our young. Don’t you dare imply I’d ever do that again.”

His hands move to your neck, and you groan as he pushes the bones of your shoulder blades aside to press the tips of his fingers deeper into the joint.

“But what—fuck oh my god that feels good—what if…” You trail off as his fingers release what feels like a lifetime of tension.

“What if what?” He asks, picking up your suddenly much more pliable body and tucking it against his as he sits on the bed. His oily palms cups both of your breasts.

“Hey, you said no sex!”

“How is holding your udders sex?” He asks you.

“One, please never use that word again, and two…I mean, touching usually leads to sex.” You tell him, appalled at his choice in words.

“Don’t be stupid,” He says as he lifts your heavy breasts up, instantly taking tension off your back. “Breathe, deep breaths,” he instructs.

You almost protest, but the sensation of filling your lungs unencumbered by the weight of your tits is a weirdly amazing feeling.

“In through your nose and out through your mouth,” he whispers into your ear, cupping and supporting you in a way you only wish a bra could. “Good girl,” he tells you as you relax back into his chest.

“What if I need you to stop? What if it’s actually too much?” You keep breathing, closing your eyes as you focus on the rise and fall of his chest.

“Trust me, I won’t hurt you anymore more than you want me to,” he whispers.

“Can we have a safe word?” You ask cautiously.

“I do not know this term. What makes a word safe?”

“It’s a word that we don’t use in regular conversation. That if one of us says it during our time together, we stop. No questions asked.”

He hums a little in your ear, as if he’s considering the option.

“If it makes you feel secure, I will do this,” he tells you as he releases your breast. His finger tips move to work the tissue near your armpit, making you wince.

“It would,” You grit through the pain. “You can use it too, if you need to,” you tell him.

Drohako laughs with his entire chest, shaking you in the process. “Very funny, human! What word would you like to choose?”

You think for a moment, and the perfect word flies into your mind.

“Udder, you’re not allowed to say it unless something is too painful or too intense. Sound good?” You smile, pleased to have all but eradicated that word from his vocabulary.

“But then what will I call these?” He asks, sliding slick hands over your nipples.

“Breasts, tits, boobs, fun bags, literally anything else,”

“Fine,” he seems disappointed. “If you say ‘udders’ I will stop, no questions asked.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, tilting your head back to meet his golden gaze.

“It’s a simple request. Do not make a bigger deal of it than it is, human,” he brushes off the gesture and moves his hands to your thighs, sliding more of the sweet smelling fat down your sore legs.

#monster fucker #monster fuqqer #monster smut #monsterfuqqer #monster romance #monster lover #smut #terato #aliens #i love aliens #alien romance #alien x reader #alien x human #alien #Petra palerno #STTABshort

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genshinluvr · 1 year

Text

Crave 5

Pairings: Various Genshin Men x Isekai'd!Reader, Albedo x Isekai'd!Reader

Summary: You and Albedo go to Dragonspine to conduct an experiment on whether plants from another region can survive Dragonspine's climate and soil. While conducting an experiment, you get really cold, and Albedo gives you a warming potion to drink that should keep you warm for the next few hours. Unfortunately, the potion isn't a warming potion. Instead, it's an unknown potion that contains an aphrodisiac.

Note: Honestly, I wish this smut was longer, but your girl has a headache, and it's killing me 😵‍💫 This smut probably isn't the best, but hey, Albedo finally got his smut! It's officially Christmas, so this is your Christmas present from yours truly (along with the mini-fic/smut that I posted not too long ago of Pierro and Capitano). The next fanfic is going to be hurt/comfort, and it's also a request (which I hope is still in my inbox unless Tumblr decides to eat it). As previously stated in the previous Crave "series," I tried to keep the story as gender-neutral as possible. All of my smuts do lean towards female!reader/AFAB!reader with gender-neutral pronouns. As usual, minors DO NOT INTERACT! I don't post anywhere else but on Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and on AO3 (Aaliah_exo).

Warnings: Horribly written smut, aphrodisiac, slight exhibitionism, cervix fucking, mating press, unprotected sex, spitting, cunnilingus, overstimulation, missionary, creampie

Word Count: 8.5k

Crave "Chapters": [1], [2], [3], [4], [5], [6], [7]

“Are we really going to let [Y/N] go up to Dragonspine?” Diluc asks, leaning against the stairway. Diluc glances up the stairs, hearing faint bickering coming from the second floor. Diluc can hear footsteps coming from the room above his head and items being moved around in your room, items being dragged across the floor, and a faint whine coming from you.

Kaeya chuckles and lightly punches Diluc’s shoulders, only to earn a glare from the red-headed man. “Relax, Master Diluc. [Y/N] is going to be in Dragonspine for only a few hours with Albedo, assisting the chief alchemist with his projects,” Kaeya explains, giving Diluc a teasing smile.

“That’s too much!” You whine from your room.

Ayato and Thoma stop at the bottom of the stairs and looks up the stairs, then glance over at one another. Ayato lifts his teacup and takes a sip from it. “I wonder what [Y/N] meant by too much,” Ayato mutters, blowing on the hot tea.

“Does anyone know who’s upstairs with [Y/N]? I know they’re preparing for their journey to Dragonspine with Albedo, but I’m not entirely sure what they’re doing up there,” Thoma says. Thoma leans on the railing of the stairs, his green eyes remaining locked on the top of the staircase while nibbling on his bottom lip.

Xiao approaches the four men with a deep frown on his face. “Why would [Y/N] accompany the chief alchemist to Dragonspine when his assistant, Sucrose, can help him with the project instead?” Xiao asks, running his hands through his hair.

“Last time I checked, [Y/N] volunteered to go to Dragonspine with Albedo. Plus, it’s not going to be long; it’ll be a few hours, and the two of them should be back at the abode before dinner,” Kazuha says, flipping through the newspaper on the couch.

Venti lets out a groan as he plops on the couch, sprawling his entire body out like a cat, and pouts at the ceiling. “It may be a few hours, but it’s still early in the morning! They’ll be back when the sun is setting!” Venti exclaims, raising both of his hands in the air and staring at them blankly.

The men hear footsteps coming down the stairs, and their heads turn toward the direction where the noise is coming from. You’re waddling down the stairs, wearing layers upon layers of clothing, your head barely peeking from the mountain of scarves wrapping around your neck. You let out a frustrated huff and glare over at the person coming down the stairs behind you.

“Zhongli, is it really necessary to dress me in this many layers of clothes?! I can barely move!” You exclaim; no matter how much you try to raise your voice for the others to hear you from underneath the scarves, your voice is still muffled.

Zhongli nods his head. “Yes, it’s necessary for you to dress in layers before going up to Dragonspine with the chief alchemist,” Zhongli replies, giving you a small smile when you peek up at him from the mountain of scarves and a beanie on your head that looks like a cherry on top of an ice cream.

“I understand that you want to keep [Y/N] warm from the sheer cold of Dragonspine, but perhaps this is a little bit too far,” Dainsleif mutters, gazing at you with an amused look on his face.

Childe coos at you. “Look at you! Aren’t you a cutie patootie?! All bundled up for your journey to Dragonspine!” Childe squeals and pinches your cheeks that are squished together from the scarves around your neck.

You stare up at Childe blankly, feeling heat rush to your face. You’re not sure if the heat rushing to your face was because of Childe or if it was because of the number of clothes Zhongli had you put on for your trip to Dragonspine with Albedo. Childe wraps his arms around you and rests his cheek on your head with a big smile on his face. He looks down at you and plants a sloppy kiss on the cheek that is poking out from the mountain of scarves you have on. You might as well enjoy Childe’s affection before you go out into the cold mountains with Albedo. You didn’t push Childe away from you; you just stood there and let Childe holds onto you like a koala and let him kiss your face every few minutes while he gushed about how ridiculously cute you looked.

Kaveh looks over at Al Haitham with a slight smirk on his face. “For someone as fearful as Childe, most people wouldn’t expect him to gush over someone like the abyss mage,” Kaveh says, pointing his thumb over in your direction.

You gasp and begin tugging on Childe’s sleeves. “Childe, Kaveh just called me an abyss mage! Kick his ass for me!” You said, attempting to point at Kaveh, only for your arm to fall to your side due to the layers of sweaters and jackets you have on.

“Are you ready to go to Dragonspine?” You hear Albedo ask. You shuffle to turn around to face Albedo and see him carrying a few pieces of lab equipment in his hands and around his shoulders. Albedo looks at you with wide eyes and scans you from head to toe.

Gorou smiles and nods his head, patting your head lightly. “They’re ready to go to Dragonspine, as you can see!” Gorou says, showcasing you with a dazzling smile on his face.

“Before you ask [Y/N] why they’re wearing layers of clothing, it’s the geo archon that dressed them up for the trip,” Scaramouche speaks up, taking a bite out of the sunsettia in his hand.

Itto enters the living room with two large onikabutos in his hands and Aether and Heizou following behind him, drenched in water. You stare at Aether and Heizou, and they stare back at you, wondering why you look like you’re about to visit Snezhnaya.

“[Y/N] and Albedo are about to leave to go to Dragonspine,” Al Haitham says.

“Oh, right! I completely forgot that [Y/N] volunteered to go to Dragonspine to assist Albedo with his experiment,” Aether says, nodding his head while stroking his chin.

Heizou looks at you curiously. “What’s the experiment about?” Heizou asks.

“It’s both research and an experiment, but it’s a test to see if these plants that Tighnari and I have collected can survive in a sheer cold like Dragonspine,” you said, looking over at Tighnari with a grateful smile on your face. Though, you’re not entirely sure if Tighnari can tell that you're smiling or not because of the scarves.

“Personally, I don’t think these plants will survive in the sheer cold. It’s a no-brainer. But even though the answer is obvious, it’s a fun little experiment that [Y/N] can test out themselves with the help of the chief alchemist with his other projects and experiments,” Tighnari says, nodding his head.

Itto walks up to you and pokes you on the forehead while looking down at you curiously. “Since you’re wearing that many layers of clothes, how are you not sweating already?” Itto asks, peering down at you.

“They are sweating. Do you not see the bead of sweat trickle down their face and get absorbed by one of the scarves?” Cyno asks, raising his eyebrows at Itto.

You turn to look at Tighnari. “Will there be a chance of me helping you with one of your researches?” You ask.

Tighnari props his hands on his hips and tilts his head to the side while contemplating possible research with you assisting him. “Well, that would depend because I am also a forest ranger, and I can get pretty busy, but I’m not sure if you want to get close to the withering,” Tighnari replies.

Pierro shakes his head. “It’s best for [Y/N] not to get close to the withering. You two can do your little research as long as it doesn’t involve the withering,” Pierro says.

Pantalone chuckles and pats Pierro’s shoulders. “Oh, Pierro. [Y/N] is an Akademiya student; sooner or later, they might encounter the withering on their own or do research on the withering for the Akademiya,” Pantalone says, letting his hand drop to his side after Pierro brushes Pantalone’s hand off his shoulders.

“Are you two going to head off to Dragonspine without breakfast? It’s still early in the morning,” Capitano says, leaning on the top rail of the chair, his button-up shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You look over at Albedo, then turn to face Capitano and shrug your shoulders. “I’m assuming we’re going to have breakfast when we’re at Dragonspine. I’m sure Albedo wants to get everything settled down before we have breakfast,” you said.

Dottore walks up to you with a dramatic sigh and pushes Childe to the side to give you a hug. Childe glares at the back of Dottore’s head and crosses his arms over his chest while grumbling curse words to himself, loud enough for Dottore to hear what he’s saying. Dottore ignores Childe’s grumblings while adjusting the hat on your head.

“If you end up missing home, please inform Albedo about it. I would much rather have you spend your time in my arms than at a place like Dragonspine,” Dottore says, laying his cheek on the top of your head while rubbing your back lightly.

You pat Dottore’s head and slowly pull away from Dottore’s hug. “As much as I would love to spend time in your arms as well, Dottore, I believe that Dragonspine is the only place on Teyvat that I haven’t visited yet! Other than the three other regions,” you said.

“Is there a reason why you want to visit Dragonspine? Other than assisting Albedo with his experiment and research?” Diluc asks, raising his eyebrows at you.

You nod your head. “There’s snow! It doesn’t rain or snow in the abode, and it’s a little bit disappointing,” you answer, scratching the back of your neck. “I understand that Dragonspine is really dangerous to explore alone, but I’ll be in Albedo’s lab at Dragonspine, safe and sound! Plus, the teapot will be floating inside the cave while we are conducting an experiment,” You add.

Albedo looks over at the clock on the wall. “We should be heading out soon. The longer we stay, the more delayed our experiment will be,” Albedo says. Albedo gestures for you to follow him out of the estate.

You nod your head and wave the men goodbye before following behind Albdeo out the door. The men stop by the front door of the estate and watch you and Albedo walk to the nearest waypoint in the abode. You turn to look at the men one last time; you give them a smile and loop your arm around Albedo’s arm before the two of you teleport out of the teapot.

Dainsleif turns to look at Zhongli. “Is it possible to make it snow and rain in the abode?” Dainsleif asks, raising his eyebrows at the former geo archon.

“I’m not entirely sure. But even if it is possible, I have no power to control the weather in the teapot, nor am I able to do such things,” Zhongli replies, stroking his chin.

Not going to lie; when you and Albedo teleport out of the abode and to Dragonspine, you sort of expected to be at Albedo’s lab immediately. But unfortunately, you’re wrong, and now you’re trekking up the mountains with the teapot in your arms while shivering when a gust of wind hits you in the face. Albedo didn’t seem fazed from the sheer cold, but maybe it’s because he’s chalk, but you could be wrong. You remember the sheer cold bar at the bottom of the screen in Genshin Impact above the health bar. No matter what character you’re playing, they cannot stand the sheer cold, so maybe Albedo is good at hiding it.

“You know how back at the estate, I said that I was disappointed that it doesn’t snow or rain inside the teapot?” You ask, eyes focusing on the ground to make sure you don’t misstep that’ll cause you to slip and fall to the ground.

Albedo keeps his eyes straight forward on the path in front of you two and nods. “Yes, I do recall that,” Albedo answers.

“Well, I take it back because I completely forgot how cold it can get when it snows,” you sulk, clutching onto the teapot tightly as the both of you trek up the slopes.

Albedo chuckles and points at the top of the slope where the two of you are walking. “You can start warming up when we get to the laboratory. I’m sure Sucrose or Timaeus have already lit the fire up beneath the stove, and you can start making breakfast for the both of us while I get things set up,” Albedo says.

You let out a shaky sigh and nodded your head, mentally thanking Zhongli for dressing you in layers upon layers of clothing before sending you out to Dragonspine. If it weren’t for Zhongli, you would’ve been a [Y/N] popsicle by now. You nuzzle your face deeper into your scarves, almost sighing in relief when the bottom half of your face is engulfed in warmth. No matter how cold it is in Dragonspine, you look forward to working with Albedo and seeing him in his element.

The two of you soon arrive at the campsite, and you sigh in relief, feeling the warmth from the laboratory warming your body up. You set the teapot down in the corner of the camp before walking over to the campfire, squatting down in front of the campfire, and holding your hand close to the fire to warm your freezing hands up.

“It’s nice to finally visit your campsite, Albedo. I would visit your campsite in my world often, but it’s nothing compared to being here in person,” you said, blowing into your hands to heat them up.

Albedo looks over at you with interest. “Is that so?” Albedo asks, setting his things down on the table nearby and beginning to go through the shelf.

You nod at Albedo’s question. “I’ve always wanted to visit your campsite, but I never got the chance to ask if I could visit your campsite with you. But I’m glad that we’re here now!” You said, standing up and walking over to the backpack that you had brought with you.

“I’m glad that you have decided to keep me company and assist me with my experiments. Sucrose and Timaeus are usually the ones to keep me company and help me with my research, but it’s nice to have a new face around the campsite,” Albedo says, smiling at you.

You smile back at Albedo. “I hope I can assist you as much as possible! Think of me as your mini assistant or temporary assistant,” you said, turning to look at your bag and digging through it to grab out the ingredients for breakfast and lunch.

Albedo looks over at you and smiles. “What if I don’t want you to be my temporary assistant?” Albedo asks, pressing his lips into a thin line as he waits for you to answer his question.

You pull out a loaf of bread, a carton of eggs, a plate of cheese, and ham while giggling. “Then you will need to wait in line because Dottore and Tighnari want me to be their assistant as well,” you said, giving Albedo a big smile.

Albedo raises his eyebrows at you. “Is that so?” Albedo asks.

You grab the ingredients while nodding your head, carrying the ingredients over to the stove, plopping them down on the ground gently, and squatting in front of the fire. You began cracking the egg and dumping them into the pan, sprinkling some black pepper and salt onto the eggs. You have decided to cook a breakfast sandwich for you and Albedo to eat; your mom would make you and your siblings whenever she gets up for work. Not only is a breakfast sandwich easy to make, but they’re also quick to eat and can keep your stomach filled up for a few hours (depending on how many you eat).

The sound of eggs, bacon, and butter sizzling fill the once-silent air between you and Albedo. You take a whiff of the delicious smell and feel your stomach growl. Archons, you can’t wait to devour the breakfast sandwiches. About fifteen minutes later, you finally finish cooking the breakfast sandwiches and place them on a plastic plate.

You get up from your seat and walk over to Albedo, who is scribbling on a piece of paper that is being held down on a clipboard in his hands. Albedo looks up from his clipboard when you place the plate on the table in front of him, placing a paper napkin beside the plate.

“Breakfast is ready! Sorry, it took a while. I had to figure out how to cut the sandwiches without burning my fingertips,” you smile at him sheepishly.

Albedo smiles and places the clipboard down. “No need to worry. Let’s eat our breakfast before starting on the research experiment,” Albedo says.

“Oh, give me a second. I’m going to take the layers off so I can move around comfortably without accidentally knocking things over,” you said.

You walk over to the small bed at the corner of the campsite and begin to take the layers of jackets, sweaters, and scarves off your body. With each article of clothing you take off, you feel your body become lighter and less hot. After shedding off the last jacket, you’re left in a sweater that Childe has let you borrow. Technically, he didn’t let you borrow it. He shoved it to your face and demanded that you wear it before going off to Dragonspine with another man (it was Childe’s dramatic commentary, not yours).

You debated on whether you wanted to keep Childe’s sweater on, but since you will be working with chemicals soon and you’re going to be eating in a moment, you don’t want crumbs to fall on his sweater and stain it with chemicals. So, you opted to take his sweater off and put it back on before going back to the abode.

“Oh? Are you not cold?” Albedo asks when you sit down beside him and grab the second half of your breakfast sandwich.

You shake your head. “It’s quite warm in the lab, plus I don’t want to stain Childe’s sweater with any chemicals or get breadcrumbs on his sweater while I’m eating,” you reply. You take a big bite out of the breakfast sandwich and almost let out a moan when the food touches your tastebuds. Once you have chewed and swallowed your food, you say, “I forgot how good this tasted.”

“You’re a pretty good cook, [Y/N]. Why haven’t you thought about cooking for the rest of us at the abode?” Albedo asks.

You pursed your lips. “Because I can’t measure or do proper math when it comes to adding more measurements for the ingredients. I’m not sure how Thoma does it, but I know I’m going to screw something up if I attempt to do it,” you reply.

“I’m sure Thoma is willing to take it step by step with you. After all, you two have cooked something together before,” Albedo says, finishing up his breakfast sandwich.

You do a double take and look at Albedo with wide eyes, then look down at the breakfast sandwich that you just took a bite out of. How in the world did Albedo finish up his breakfast sandwich that quickly? Albedo wipes his lips on the paper napkin along with his fingers before getting up from his seat to toss away his trash.

Being the slow eater that you are, you begin to panic and start to shovel the breakfast sandwich into your mouth. Albedo stops in his tracks when the two of you make eye contact, your cheeks puffing up from the breakfast sandwich you’re shoving into your mouth. The two of you don’t talk and continue to stare at one another. You slowly chew on the breakfast sandwich you shoved into your mouth and swallow it, staring at Albedo like a deer caught in headlights.

“I understand that you don’t like being the last one to finish a meal, but please don’t rush and shove large portions of food into your mouth. You’re going to choke,” Albedo chides. He walks up to you and wipes the corner of your lips with the napkin that is sitting on your lap.

“Hehe, sorry. I couldn’t help it,” you said, scratching the back of your neck. “Plus, I didn’t want to hold us back from starting the experiment. If I continue to take my time with my breakfast, then we will get a late start on the experiment and return to the abode later than we intended,” you said.

Albedo hums and strokes his chin, nodding slowly. “Ah, I see what you mean by that,” Albedo murmurs, gazing down at you. His eyes land on your arms, noticing goosebumps appearing on your arms and the hairs on your arms standing up.

“I’m done!” You said, voice muffled by the food in your mouth. You get up from your seat and grab your napkin, wiping your lips while walking over to the trash bin to throw your trash away. When you return to Albedo, Albedo grabs your biceps and pulls you towards him.

“Are you cold, [Y/N]? You have goosebumps on your arms,” Albedo says, holding your arms up to your face for you to see.

You shrug your shoulders. “It’s a bit chilly from the wind being blown into the campsite, but I should be okay. Besides, Zhongli did dress me up in layers before coming to Dragonspine,” you said, bobbing your head toward the direction of piles of sweaters, jackets, and scarves. “No need to worry about me, Albedo. I’ll put on a few layers if it eases your worries a bit,” you said, pecking his cheeks lightly before walking to the pile of clothes.

You slip on Childe’s sweater before wearing a jacket over it. You stop in your tracks when you see your gloves, debating if you should wear the gloves or not. After all, there’s a slight chance that you’ll be dealing with chemicals, but you want to be able to conduct an experiment without having to worry about the test tubes slipping out of your grasp because of the fabric of the gloves.

You shake your head. “I don’t need the gloves,” you tell yourself.

You turn around and walk over to where Albedo is prepping for the experiment. You stand beside Albedo and gaze down at the plants that you and Tighnari have collected for the research. You know that Tighnari is going to be correct— the plants won’t survive in a freezing climate like Dragonspine, but you do wonder if the plants from Snezhnaya will survive in Dragonspine. You wouldn’t mind visiting Snezhnaya to test it out, but Childe doesn’t want you to visit Snezhnaya just yet. You and Albedo began labeling each plant and lining them up beside each other on the glass top. After lining and labeling the plants, Albedo turns to you and gives you two small glass dishes.

“Please fill one glass dish up with soil and the other dish with both soil and snow. You needn’t worry about the snow melting; I have a potion that will prevent the snow from melting,” Albedo says, turning to search for the concoction he mentioned about.

You nod and walk to the entrance of the campsite and begin filling one dish with snow and soil and the other dish with just dirt. Once you have gotten the appropriate amount of snow and dirt, you return to the campsite with the two plates in your grasp.

“I hope these are enough for the experiment,” you said, placing the dishes down on the table close to the plants. “I don’t know if it’s because I’m wearing fewer layers of clothing, but it feels like it has gotten much colder outside,” you said, rubbing your hands together while trying to blow heat into your freezing hands.

“Has it? Let me go check and see,” Albedo says, brushing past you to go to the cave’s entrance, sticking his arms out and staring up at the sky. Albedo walks back into the campsite and shakes his head. “It still feels the same to me,” Albedo says, stopping in front of you.

“Oh, then perhaps it’s just me then,” you said, continuing to rub your hands together, trying to create heat to warm your hands up.

Albedo grabs your hands and gently squeezes them. You’re so cold that Albedo can feel it through his gloves. Albedo releases your hand and begins scanning his surroundings, searching for something that can keep you warm for the next few hours without you having to go back and forth to the heated stove.

Albedo’s eyes land on the test tube that contains a red potion. When Albedo grabs the test tube, he can feel the heat emanating from it. “Here, try this,” Albedo says, turning to you to hand you the test tube. “I believe that I was working on a warming potion that would last up to a few hours. It should keep you warm and prevent you from freezing from the sheer cold,” Albedo explains.

You grab the test tube from Albedo’s hands, almost sighing in relief when you feel the heat spreading on your hand through the glass tube. You uncorked the bottle and downed the potion. You feel the heat from the warming potion spread throughout your body, melting away the cold that was engulfing your body a few seconds ago.

“Whenever you’re ready, we can get started on the experiment,” Albedo says, grabbing the test tube from your hands and putting it back on the test tube rack.

“We can start now since the potion is already in effect,” you said, gazing down at the plants and rubbing your fingers against the leaves. “I know that Tighnari is most likely correct, but I want to test it out for myself,” you said.

Silence fills the campsite as you and Albedo work on the experiment. The only time you and Albedo would speak to each other was when he was giving you instructions on what to do and how long some plants should be kept in the soil and snow with soil. The sound of glass tubes clinking and pen scribbling on paper fills the air. You feel sweat forming on your forehead, close to your hairline. Your body gradually gets hotter and hotter, and an uncomfortable feeling forms in your lower stomach.

You reach up and wipe the sweat off your forehead before continuing the experiment. You feel your groin begin to throb painfully, making you press your thighs tightly together, officially unable to focus on your tasks. You look over at Albedo, who is occupied with his part of the experiment. He bends to the side to get a closer look at the plants and how it’s reacting to a different soil.

You clear your throat and begin to take the jacket off, hoping it’ll bring some relief to you. You feel your hair sticking to the back of your neck because of the sweat, and you begin to fan yourself with your hands, but it doesn’t relieve your situation at all.

“Is something wrong?” You look up and see Albedo looking at you quizzically while you continue to fan yourself with your hand.

You clear your throat. “I’m not entirely sure. I think the warming potion is working a little bit too well because now I’m sweating, and I can’t seem to cool down,” you said, reaching for the hem of Childe’s sweater and taking it off.

“That’s strange….” Albedo trails off. He puts everything down and walks over to you, pressing his hand against your forehead. Your forehead is so hot that it’s easy for people to assume that you’re running a fever whenever you’re not. Wait, is there a possible chance that you’re getting sick?

“How are you feeling right now? Any headaches? Aching body?” Albedo questions you, pulling you over to the small bed in the corner of the campsite. You pause for a moment and slowly shake your head.

“There’s no headache right now, but I’m feeling hot all over and,” you trail off, continuing to wipe the sweat off your face and your neck. By this time, your entire body is almost covered in sweat. You swallow the lump in your throat and sit down on the bed when Albedo lightly pushes you down on the bed. You cross your legs and press your thighs together tightly, almost jolting when you feel your genitals ache and pulse.

Albedo kneels in front of you, gazing at you worriedly. “And?” He asks, grabbing you by your chin and tilting your chin up so you wouldn’t break eye contact. Albedo can see how your pupils are dilated, a thin sheen of sweat forms on your forehead, and he wipes it away with a nearby tissue.

“It’s embarrassing,” you sigh, resting your head on Albedo’s shoulders. “I don’t know if I can say it without making the both of us feel uncomfortable,” you murmur against his shoulders.

Albedo strokes your back and tucks your hair behind your ears. “If you don’t tell me, how can I fix the issue?” Albedo asks softly.

“I’m… I’m aching, and it’s pulsing, and I don’t like it,” You mumble, refusing to make eye contact with Albedo when you slowly pull away from him. You grab the collar of your shirt and wipe the sweat forming on your cheek.

“Aching and pulsing where exactly?” Albedo looks at you quizzically.

Without saying a word, you pointed down at your lap. There’s no way in hell you’d be able to tell Albedo that you’re suddenly horny and need to be dicked down. Whatever you ingested was not a warming potion. In fact, it’s most likely an aphrodisiac, and you’re not sure if Albedo knew that he gave you a concoction that contained an aphrodisiac.

You let out a frustrated sigh and point over at the empty test tube. “I think the ‘warming potion’ is actually an aphrodisiac, and now my libido has increased, and I feel like I’m in a heat,” you said.

“Shit,” Albedo mutters, suddenly standing up from his spot and running his fingers through his hair. “I must’ve messed up the ingredients while making the warming potion,” Albedo says, walking over to the table and scanning his eyes over the potions in the test tubes. Albedo’s eyes land on a familiar red bottle lying between the stacks of books and scattered lab materials. Albedo grabs the small glass bottle with shaky hands and holds it up to his face. The bottle in Albedo’s hands is indeed a warming potion. What was the elixir that you ingested? Albedo doesn’t recall making a potion that involves an aphrodisiac. How strange.

“Albedo,” you whine softly, trembling in your spot as you try to find a way to relieve the aching in between your legs. “It’s really hot, and I’m extremely horny,” you groan, falling back on the bed and covering your flustered face with your hands.

Albedo’s face and the tip of his ears turn bright red from your words. Albedo swallows his saliva and places the warming potion down on the table before slowly walking over to where you’re lying. Albedo stops in front of you, his knees brushing against yours; he looks down at your flustered form and crosses his arms over his chest.

“How do you want me to help you?” Albedo asks, tilting his head to the side.

You curl yourself up into a little ball. Either Albedo fucks you until the potion’s effects wear off, or you have to wait it out in the snow while cooling your body temperature down. As much as you want to wait it out, the aching between your legs is becoming even more unbearable. It’s driving you insane, and you’re not entirely sure if you can ignore it any further. You mumble something under your breath.

Albedo’s eyebrows pinch together as he leans forward. “Pardon? Can you repeat that? I didn’t catch what you said.”

You peek from behind your hands. “I desperately need you to fuck me until the potion’s effects wear off,” you said quietly.

After being given the green light, Albedo grabs you by your ankles and yanks you to the edge of the bed, and begins to rip every piece of clothing off your overheating body. Goosebumps appear over your scorching hot body, and your nipples harden when the cold air touches your body.

When Albedo takes the last piece of clothing off your body, Albedo notices that you have completely soaked through your panties. You shiver when Albedo spreads your legs wide open for him to see; you’re soaking wet, and your thighs and entrance are glistening with your slick. Albedo takes his gloves off and begins slowly stripping off his clothes, revealing his pale skin. Albedo kneels in front of your legs and begins to slowly rub your swollen nub, causing you to jolt from the sudden contact. Albedo pinches the nub and twists it between his thumb and index finger, making you writhe on the bed, attempting to conceal your moans.

“There’s no need to hide your moans; it’s just the two of us here,” Albedo says softly, leaning down to press soft kisses on your inner thighs.

You let out a choked moan when Albedo presses his lips against your entrance and begins to lick stripes up your heat. You tangle your fingers in Albedo’s hair, gently tugging on his hair while he eats you out, moving your hips against his face. You gasp when Albedo’s teeth graze your bundle of nerves, sending shockwaves to your core. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and your back arches, your entrance clenches around nothing.

“Albedo, please stop teasing me and fuck me already,” you plead, patting his arms to grab his attention.

Albedo pulls away from your slicked entrance and licks his lips, locking eyes with you. You look at Albedo with desperation, your chest heaving up and down from the frantic breaths you’re taking. Albedo plants both of his hands above your shoulders, caging you between his body and the bed. Reaching down with one hand, Albedo grabs his erect cock and begins to pump it slowly. Albedo leans down and rubs his dick between your wet folds, letting out a shaky breath when the bulbous tip of his cock brushes against your entrance.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you, alright?” Albedo murmurs.

You nod your head and close your eyes, bracing yourself. Albedo leans on his forearms and rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. Albedo lines his cock in front of your entrance and slowly enters. You bite down on your lips, your tongue lolling out of your mouth, and you spread your legs wider for Albedo. Albedo grits his teeth and continues to slide his dick inside of your heat.

You’re so wet that it made it easy for Albedo to slide his cock all the way into you without any complications. Albedo buries his dick deep inside of you and wraps your legs around his waist. You wiggle around beneath Albedo, trying to create friction to satisfy the ache between your legs. You wrap your arms around Albedo’s shoulders, your eyebrows furrowing, eyes squeezed shut, and mouth agape.

“Please move, ‘bedo,” you whisper.

Albedo cushions the back of your head with his right hand while propping himself up with his left hand. Albedo slowly pulls his hips back, his cock sliding out of you, only leaving the tip of his cock inside of you. Albedo snaps his hips forward, and his cock immediately hits your g-spot. Your eyelids fly open, a loud gasp fills the chilly air, and your back arches. Your erect nipples press up against Albedo’s chest, your nails digging into his shoulders, and your walls squeeze Albedo’s cock for a brief second.

“Oh, fuck,” you and Albedo groan in unison.

Albedo rests his forehead on the side of your neck. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down; Albedo latches his lips onto your collarbone and sucks on it. You rake your nails down Albedo’s pale back, leaving red scratch marks in its wake. Albedo begins thrusting into your heat at a steady pace, breathing heavily into your ears. You mewled against Albedo’s shoulders, hugging him to your chest and rocking your hips against his.

“You like that?” Albedo grunts, pressing his hips against yours.

The tip of Albedo’s cock kisses your cervix; your eyes roll back, and you chew on your bottom lip, nodding your head. You whimper and press your face against Albedo’s shoulders, feeling your walls tighten and throb around Albedo’s cock. His cock is so thick; you can feel him stretch you out each time he thrusts into your entrance.

You nod your head and clench your jaws. “I do; I love it so much,” you breathe, tightening your legs around Albedo’s waist and continuing to grind your hips against Albedo’s hips. “I don’t want it to end,” you whimper, nipping at Albedo’s shoulders lightly.

Albedo feels something stir inside of him after hearing what you said. Albedo grabs your left leg and tosses it over his shoulders before picking up the pace. The sound of your and Albedo’s skin slapping against each other makes your walls clench around Albedo’s dick. You let out a loud groan when Albedo puts his entire weight on top of you, your left thigh pressing up against your and Albedo’s chest. Albedo reaches down, pinching and squeezing the little swollen nub of yours.

You grit your teeth and sink your nails into Albedo’s back, feeling your orgasm approaching faster than you expected. Frantically, you tap Albedo’s shoulders, and a string of moans and whines comes from your mouth. The knot forming in your lower stomach is prominent, and you’re afraid that it’s going to snap so soon before Albedo can get his release.

“Albedo, I’m going to cum!” You whimper, holding onto Albedo for dear life.

The knot in your lower stomach continues to get tighter each time Albedo’s cock enters your entrance. Usually, you would be embarrassed whenever you hear the loud squelching sound between your legs when someone is impaling you on their cock. Maybe it’s the aphrodisiac, but it made you even wetter than you previously were.

You hear Albedo let out a huff of breath; it almost sounds like an amused laugh. Albedo gazes down at you, his hair framing his face beautifully and dangling in front of your face, tickling your temples.

“Already?” Albedo teases, pinching your sensitive engorged nub hard.

You squeal loudly and thrash below him, rubbing up against him like a bitch in heat. You nod your head and comb your fingers through Albedo’s hair, pulling on his soft, light blonde hair. Albedo releases your abused nub and tangles his fingers into your hair, tilting your head up and crashing his lips against yours. Albedo plunges his cock deep inside your hole, groaning against your lips when he feels your spongey walls clamp down on his dick.

You break the kiss between you and Albedo, and your back arches, and you wail his name at the top of your lungs when the knot snaps. Albedo continues to pistons his cock inside of you, not even close to his release. You cum around Albedo’s dick and lay on the bed, limp and fucked out.

“How are you feeling?” Albedo murmurs, continuing to do what he’s doing, bullying his cock in and out of your tight walls.

You whimper softly from the overstimulation and pull him down to you, resting your chin on his shoulders. Your right leg unwraps around Albedo’s waist, falling on the bed while your left leg remains over Albedo’s shoulders.

“I’m still insanely horny… and I’m overstimulated,” you panted into Albedo’s ears, running your fingers through Albedo’s hair. “I don’t want you to stop,” you whisper, your eyes rolling back each time Albedo slides his cock inside of your heat.

You squirm beneath Albedo, removing your left leg from his shoulders before wrapping both legs around his waist and flipping him over on his back with all the strength you can gather. Albedo looks up at you with wide eyes, placing both of his hands on your waist. Albedo gulps when you stare down at him hungrily, with lust completely taking over you.

Albedo sits up on the bed, rests his back on the wall, props the pillow up behind his back, and pulls you to his chest. You plant your hands beside Albedo’s head on the pillow and begin to slowly grind your heat down on Albedo’s cock. Albedo hisses and thrusts up, hitting your cervix. You let out a choked gasp, and your head tilts back. You bite down on your lips and gulp, your bottom lips quivering.

You plant your hands firmly on Albedo’s shoulders and begin sliding up and down on Albedo’s throbbing, red cock. Albedo latches his lips onto your nipples and begins to swirl his tongue on your erect nipples, sucking and lightly biting them. You grab Albedo’s hair tightly and slam your hips down on Albedo’s cock; forcing the blunt tip of his dick to beat your cervix repeatedly.

Albedo lets out a loud groan and grabs the globes of your ass, squeezing them tightly and would occasionally spank them, leaving a sting in its wake with each smack.

Albedo grabs the back of your neck with one hand, pressing his hand in the middle of your back, stares up at you, and thrusts upwards. Sweat begins to trickle down his face, his eyes rolling back as he rests his head on the wall, letting his hips go on autopilot. You lean back and begin to rub and pinch your throbbing nub, gritting your teeth together as you continue to slam your hips down on his cock repeatedly.

Your legs are starting to grow tired, and you’re way past feeling overstimulated. You suddenly stop riding Albedo’s cock and collapse on his chest, breathing heavily, and your walls clamp and unclamp around Albedo’s cock. Albedo’s eyelids fly open when you stop. Albedo then flips you over on your back and presses both of your legs against your chest, folding you in half.

You look at Albedo, breathless and tired from the strenuous activity. Albedo leans over you, pressing your legs down on your chest even further. Albedo lets his head fall on the back of your calves to catch his breath.

Albedo lets out a laugh of disbelief. “I don’t know how much longer I can go on to satisfy you,” Albedo breathes, gazing down at you with a soft smile on his face. He brushes your hair away from your face and slightly parts your leg to the side so he can get a better view of your face. “How are you feeling so far? Are the effects still there?” Albedo asks.

You pursed your lips and moved your hips against Albedo’s hips, emitting a moan from the man hovering above you. “It’s still there, I can barely feel it, but it’s still there,” you answer. Your entire body is tingling, and you cannot tell whether it’s from the orgasm that you had prior or if it was one of the side effects of the pseudo-warming potion. “My body is tingling, though,” you add, pressing your lips into a thin line, waiting to see his reaction.

Albedo tilts his head to the side, his eyebrows knitting together. “How strange,” Albedo says, slowly thrusting his cock inside of your wet heat. “Was it there whenever you ingested the potion?” Albedo asks.

You shrug your shoulders. “I don’t think I felt any tingling when and after I ingested the potion. The side effects that stood out to me the most are my body overheating and, well, feeling extremely horny,” you laugh sheepishly.

Albedo nods his head. “Interesting. Perhaps your body is tingling because of your orgasm,” Albedo theorizes.

“And maybe from the overstimulation,” you add, reaching up to stroke his cheeks.

Albedo blushes and leans down, pressing his lips against yours. Albedo cups your cheeks in his hands, thrusting his cock in and out of your overstimulated hole. You shiver and moan into Albedo’s mouth when his pubic bone grinds against your swollen nub. Albedo keeps you folded in half in a mating press, his cock reaching the deepest part of your entrance and the mushroom tip of his cock hitting the sweet spot.

Albedo breaks the kiss and presses his forehead against yours, his warm breath fanning your face. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll last,” Albedo murmurs, gazing down at you with his teal eyes while continuing to thrust his dick inside you.

You brush his messy bangs from his face and squeeze his cheeks lightly. Albedo’s body jolts, and he looks at you with wide eyes, his flushed cheeks turning a darker shade of pink. “Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m giving you a butt squeeze of encouragement,” you joke, smiling at him cheekily.

“You’re unbelievable,” Albedo chuckles. Your laugh is cut short when Albedo slams his cock into you. You close your eyes and decide to lay beneath Albedo, letting him use you as a cocksleeve and fuck your sopping wet hole until he’s satisfied. While Albedo is using you as a personal fleshlight, plunging his cock into you repeatedly and grinding his pubic bone against your swollen numb, the back of your thighs are starting to become sore the longer he keeps you in the mating press.

The sound of Albedo’s balls lightly hitting your ass and the sound of his hips meeting yours continues to echo in the campsite. Albedo reaches behind you, grabs your hair, and presses his lips against yours with force. The two of you trade sloppy kisses, trading saliva, and Albedo slips his tongue into your mouth, swirling his tongue around yours and sucking on your tongue. While in the middle of your heated makeout session, Albedo taps on your cheek lightly and pulls away from the kiss.

“Open your mouth for me,” Albedo breathes, continuing to drill his aching, red cock into your tight walls.

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. Albedo spits a glob of saliva into your mouth and taps your chin. You close your mouth and swallow Albedo’s saliva; your spongey walls clamp down on Albedo’s cock while he rams the bulbous tip of his dick into your cervix. Albedo’s thrusts start to become sloppy the closer he approaches his orgasm.

You clench your jaws and claw at Albedo’s back, leaving angry red marks behind as the tip of his cock punches your cervix over and over. You whine loudly and let out a loud gasp when you suddenly cum around Albedo’s cock. The feeling of your walls clenching around his cock sends him into an early orgasm. Albedo groans and collapses on top of you, spurting his warm cum deep inside of you.

Albedo takes a deep breath and lifts his head. Albedo slowly pulls his softening cock out from your sullied, cum-filled hole and watches your and his cum drip out of your entrance and onto the bed. Albedo places your leg down and collapses on the bed beside you, pulling you close to his bare chest. The silent air is filled with the sounds of your and Albedo’s deep breaths; you can hear the wind howling outside of the campsite, sending chilly air into the camp.

You shiver against Albedo and bury your face against his chest as he pulls the blanket up to cover your and his naked body from the cold. You lay your head on Albedo’s chest, closing your eyes and hugging him tightly around the waist. Albedo combs his fingers through your sweaty hair, pressing the back of his hand against your forehead.

“It seems like your temperature has gone down,” Albedo murmurs, looking down at you. “How are you feeling?” Albedo asks softly.

You look up at Albedo, lean up and press a kiss on his jaws. “Much better; I’m pretty sure the effects are gone. After all, I didn’t drink too much of that concoction,” You said, snuggling up against him and pressing your naked body against his.

Albedo stares up at the ceiling, questioning who had made the concoction and how it ended up in the campsite. Last time Albedo checked, Sucrose and Timeaus didn’t make any potions that use an aphrodisiac, but it looks like he’ll have to question them once he visits Mondstadt. You’re lucky that you ingested small amounts of that potion. If you did consume more than what you did, Albedo’s not sure how long it’ll stay in your system and how many times he’ll have to get you to orgasm to feel satisfied.

Just when you’re about to fall asleep, you suddenly remember the experiment you and Albedo were supposed to keep an eye out on. You jolt up on the bed, startling Albedo. You look down at Albedo and over at the table; Albedo’s eyes widen, and he gets out the bed and gets dressed while you scramble to put your clothes on. You shivered when you felt your and Albedo’s cum leak down your legs and to the ground. Not wanting to be naked any longer, you quickly put your clothes on and stand beside Albedo, looking down at the experiment that sat there while you and Albedo were going at it like bunnies.

“It seems like nothing has changed much, but there is a slight difference in color,” Albedo murmurs, squinting his eyes at the plant that has a faint yellow.

You blink at Albedo and scratch your head. “I don’t understand how you can automatically focus on the experiment a few minutes after you railed me on the bed and made me cum multiple times,” you mumble.

Albedo smirks and turns to you, propping his left arm on the wooden table. “I have another experiment in mind. Do you want to test it out?” Albedo asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You look at Albedo skeptically. “And what is that experiment?” You ask, narrowing your eyes at the smug blond chief alchemist.

Albedo pushes himself off the table and stands in front of you, massaging your hipbones. “I want to see how many times I can get you to cum without the aphrodisiac in your system. Care you test it out?” Albedo cocks an eyebrow at you.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and lean in to nibble his earlobe. “Let’s test it out, chief alchemist,” you murmur into his ears.

Note: Lowkey, I feel like I'm missing out on a tag of some sort for the warnings 🤔 I'm going to try to upload more NSFW content. Still, I probably won't be posting them twice a week like how I did with the Pierro x Isekai'd!reader x Capitano mini-fic/smut, along with Crave 5. It'll be posted here and there, whether as a full fic that is over 5k words or as a mini-fic. Who knows! I need to strengthen my skill in the smut department. For those who want to be on the new taglist, here is the link [click here]! The people I tagged down below will or will not be tagged in the upcoming fics, depending if they filled out the new form or not. Anyway, for those who are new here or are returning readers, I ONLY post on my Tumblr (Genshinluvr) and my AO3 (Aaliah_exo)! Nowhere else except Tumblr and AO3!

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