#the thing is i’ve received this more than once so its a me problem but at the same time. greeting people all cheery and smiley isn’t me

[chrollogy]

worse thing you can do to me is mischaracterise me because what do you mean you see me as ‘someone who thinks she’s better than everyone else’ just because i don’t talk that much 😀

[hyuckiefluff]

Hey so I hv request! Really love the way you write♡ ok so mark is on adrenaline high frm the concert and is really touch starved and really just wants to fuck his gf! Established realtionship y/n and Mark, feel free to add your magic, thank you!!!

a/n: thank u for the nice words and for sending in this req!! this is exactly what i needed to get back into the mood cuz i’ve (once again) been neglecting my writing lol but anyway when i read this the first thing i thought of was quiet down hence the pic :)

ps: requests are still open btw (still got a lot of them to go through but feel free to send in more) i usually do them in order of which one inspires me the most so even if you send rn i might get to it first!

pairing: mark lee x fem!reader

wc: 1.3k

content warnings: semi-public sex, unprotected sex, slight choking, brief mention of blood, mark is sex starved so he goes a bit crazy, ass groping, handjob (m. receiving), cum eating yeah ik ik i keep writing this but i can’t stop sawry, big c0ck mark!! barely any prep or aftercare (they don’t have time!!!) basically just a messy & needy quickie backstage.

masterlist

Mark was losing his mind. 

Why?

All because you placed him on a week-long sex ban in an attempt to prepare him for the upcoming tour. He knew you were just trying to help him adjust to being away from you, but it felt like torture.

Everything was fine at first, or at least Mark was doing a great job pretending. But as the first week neared its end, his resolve started to crumble. Today, in particular, he was extremely horny for no reason.

...Well, he actually did have a reason and it was the picture you sent him this morning, wearing the new underwear he had gifted you  'They fit perfectly, Markie ;)'.

And as if that wasn’t enough, you showed up to his show wearing his favorite skirt—the very one you knew he always fucked you in. He wasn't sure if he was just thinking with his dick, but it felt like you were trying to push him to his limit.

Either way, it was definitely working, because when you leaned in for a kiss, he caught a glimpse of your underwear in the mirror's reflection and and he had to fight against every part of himself to not moan right then.

To make matters worse, you were still wearing the black lace panties he had gifted you.

By the time he stepped on stage, he was already painfully hard. What kind of pervert gets turned on in front of an audience just because his girlfriend accidentally flashed him? Well, apparently, Mark Lee did.

But he didn't care about looking like a desperate, sex-starved fool. 

So as soon as the VCR started playing and they had to change outfits, he made a beeline for you backstage. Ignoring the protests of staff and confused band members telling him he only had 10 minutes to get ready he grabbed your arm and pulled you through the crowd.

“That’s more than enough time,” he muttered under his breath. Despite your persistent attempts to ask where he was taking you, Mark didn’t stop until you were hidden away in a dark, secluded corner behind the stage.

"Mark, what's going on? Are you okay?" You inspected him with concern in your eyes, checking for any injuries.

"Ah...fuck... I have a really big problem," he groaned.

"What's wrong?" But you quickly understood the issue when he pulled up his shirt, revealing the growing bulge in his pants.

You tried not to laugh, but the way he looked like a child in need of help was too endearing. "Aw, did I do this to you?"

"It's not funny," he protested, suddenly invading your personal space. "I need you to fix it." His forehead pressed against yours, his hands roaming over your sides and gripping your hips to press you firmly against his body, your lower abdomen coming in contact with his hard on.

"Of course, baby" you replied, ready to kneel down, but he stopped you by grabbing your arm. You looked at him confused, and the stage lights cast an angle that highlighted his pleading eyes. They were glossy with desire.

"I need to be inside you," he murmured, his voice strained and raspy.

The idea of having backstage sex at his concert with just about seven minutes left before he had to return to the stage felt crazy. But there was something about it that turned you on beyond explanation.

So, you cupped his face and kissed him hard enough that your teeth clashed with his lips, but not even the slight taste of blood stopped you from devouring each other’s mouth. Mark quickly matched your intensity, his tongue wasting no time exploring every corner of your mouth. Every time he nibbled on your lips, it elicited little gasps from you. His hands moved from your hips to your ass, pressing you firmly against his bulge, a clear reminder that he was about to explode down there.

You started to undo his pants, the friction of his erection against the fabric made him suck in air through his teeth. He broke away from your lips, allowing you to pull down his pants. His boxers were already stained with pre-cum, and when you lowered them, his dick looked at you flushed and angry. You bit your lip, his size always made you clench your thighs in anticipation.

Before you could even touch him, he turned you around and that’s when you realized you were pressed against one of the glass boxes from their performance.

"Mark..." you moaned his name when you felt the tip of his dick at your entrance. There was no time for much preparation so when he slowly pushed his hips forward, a string of curses left his lips at the tightness.

"Fuuuck..." he groaned when your walls clenched around him relentlessly. Tears welled up in your eyes, and you leaned against the box for support

“God, you feel so good” His hands gripped your hips, and you felt his lips kissing your shoulder before he whispered that he was going to start moving. You nodded weakly.

His pace started out slow, but there was an undeniable urgency in each motion. His hand moved from your hips to your neck, gripping you softly and pulling you closer with every deep thrust. His lips found that sensitive spot just below your ear, and with every kiss and nibble, you couldn't help but clench around him, making his hand close tighter against your throat. This pattern continued for a while, bringing you closer to the edge.

"Please..." you whimpered, and he grunted softly against your neck.

"What do you need, baby?" he asked.

"More, please, I need more," you moaned, feeling his grin against your neck.

He wasted no time. His thrusts quickened, and you couldn't help but release soft gasps and moans with each movement. You leaned forward against the box, your breath fogging up the glass, feeling it tremble beneath you as he continued fucking into you harder. Mark was losing himself, or perhaps he already had; he was rutting against you as if he was an animal in heat.

"M-mark... I'm close," you mewled, not sure if he even heard you amidst the loud cheers.

"Mhm, me too," he moaned, his voice strained. 

It only took a few more thrusts and you were spent, moaning and mumbling incoherently as he helped you ride your orgasm.

 "Fuck, it's gonna be messy if I cum inside you," he realized, slowing his movements.

He was right… he wasn't wearing a condom so as soon as he pulled out, it would definitely drip down your legs. And there wasn’t anything nearby to clean you up with.

"Pull out," you said, and you could see his confusion from the corner of your eye. Nonetheless, he did as told. His hand was already on his dick, ready to take care of himself, but when you knelt down, it was as if his body glitched momentarily.

Your hands replaced his, applying just the right amount of pressure in your strokes to evoke that familiar sensation building in his gut. You looked at him through your eyelashes, your makeup slightly smudged from tears and sweat. The sight was incredibly hot, and just when he was about to cum, you opened your mouth, catching all of his release. Some of it trickled down your throat. The whole scene, along with the sounds you made while swallowing, had Mark almost in tears from the sheer intensity of the moment.

After swallowing every drop, you stood up, adjusting your panties and casually licking a remnant from the corner of your lips, all while maintaining eye contact with Mark. He watched you in stunned silence, still catching his breath. You chuckled when he remained frozen for a good 10 seconds, pulling him close gently and zipping up his pants. In that moment, you heard his voice.

“Please come on tour with me,” he begged, his eyes wide with hope. You just smiled and kissed him.

“Where’s Mark?! You guys are up in 2 minutes!” The staff's frantic shouts pulled you both back to reality. You exchanged a glance and burst into giggles like a pair of teenagers.

i think i might be shadowbanned guys so interact with this post if u enjoyed it pls <3

[bengiyo]

Thoughts on Office Relationships, Breakups, Outings, and More in August ‘24 Shows

I couldn’t bring myself to finish Cosmetic Playlover today, so instead I decided to write about three shows doing interesting things with relationships right now. I don’t really have the time or interest in Stray Thoughts anymore, so I hope y’all enjoy this. For the past two weeks I’ve been thinking about the breakups and new relationships in The Trainee and Mr. Mitsuya’s Planned Feeding, and now I’m also thinking about Takara being upfront with Taishin about the state of their relationship on Takara’s Treasure. I want to get some of these thoughts down for posterity. 

The Ba-Mhee and Tae Breakup on The Trainee

I genuinely love that this show followed through on these two splitting up. I also like that Ba-Mhee asked to take the time to figure out what she’s feeling for Judy before doing something else. Ba-Mhee seems to define herself a lot by the relationship she’s in, and it was sad to see her struggling with the way Tae didn’t always respond to her attempts at expressing care and affection–methods which he never asked for. I think the two of them definitely needed to separate, because it’s not going to work if she’s feeling insecure because Tae is working hard in his preferred field.

That being said, I don’t like the thing with Judy because we know so little about Judy. All I really know about Judy right now is that she’s a workaholic with few personal relationships outside of the office, she’s queer, and she is good at handling clients. When she went to see Ba-Mhee after kissing her drunk intern the night before her anniversary at a work event, I wasn’t keen on the way it felt like Judy managed Ba-Mhee in that scene. Judy feels a bit inaccessible as a character right now, and I hope that’s a choice the show is making about how Ba-Mhee’s relationship with Judy is also rather one-sided, and entirely about her. I hope part of Ba-Mhee’s queer journey is recognizing how she seems to define herself by her relationships, and finds an identity independent of romance.

As for Judy… I hope there’s more to her here than just being pretty and good at her job. We’ve been let down twice this year by GL office romance, and I’d like for that to not be a constant trend. I’d like to see them give her nuance in her pursuit of a relationship with one of her reports.

Lastly, I really loved that Tae is trying to figure out how to be single again, and Pah got mad on his behalf. It’s a good compromise in a genre that seems to really not want characters to be  mad at each other for too long, especially when one of them has really hurt another. Tae got to be sad, and someone got to be righteous on his behalf. We even had good storytelling come out of these two using their jobs to punish each other, with it being very clear that these were bad choices. 

Ayaka is in Love with Hiroko Betrayed Its Characters

While I’m here, let me just say that the back half of this show was utterly offensive, and actively betrayed its own characters. I cannot believe that Hiroko’s own community was so quick to betray her trust and out her repeatedly. I cannot believe this show abandoned Hiroko’s straight girl problems from the beginning for a message that “It’s not that bad now, so just come out. I cannot believe this show had a Boob Monster lesbian withhold sex from her horny girlfriend for a year so she could “cherish her.” I am baffled by all of the choices that went into this, and I will not be recommending it. It gets a 4 from me. 

Jane’s Ex on The Trainee

I thought it was really interesting to introduce an ex at this point while Ba-Mhee and Ryan are both considering potential relationships with their mentors. There are consequences in a professional field when you date within your field for some folks, and it’s clear that happened with Jane. Nine, the ex, was here to once again benefit from Jane’s talents, and Jane did not seem like he expected to receive any real credit or benefit from that work. I’m curious if the show intends for any resolution for Jane with Nine, or if he’s here as a romantic tool for Ryan.

Speaking of Ryan, he is clearly in his early 20s, because his jealousy spiral exhausted me. Jane was obviously not into that man, and assured Ryan that he would be back later by making sure he and Ryan had plans for later. I hope we get back to Ryan actually being a good supporter when he’s focused and motivated, especially now that we know that Jo was meant to illuminate things about Pah.

Mitsuya’s Breakup with Noguchi on Mr. Mitsuya’s Planned Feeding

One of my favorite things about this age-gap story is that Mitsuya has been out for a long time, and he has a romantic and sexual history. I loved that he’s had an on again-off again relationship that he needed to bring to a close as part of his own story, and I loved how it wasn’t the ugliest of breakups. These two men know each other intimately, and this final break for them turned into a small celebration of what they had between them. Important things got aired, they snipped a little at each other, and they got to enjoy one last meal together in a way that added a gentle finality to the situation.

On Ishida’s end, I absolutely loved that he’s continued to be upright with Mitsuya about his feelings, called their date what it was, and stepped down from his professional role with Mitsuya. On top of that, I actually love that it was Noguchi that gave him the final inspiration he needed to go back to sports and face his own angst there. It’s actually so special for me that a 27 year-old man who felt like he had to give up on his dreams is finding a way to do something with the specific feelings he has about that. 

I’m also never getting over Ishida telling Mitsuya that he wants to be seen as a man and not a cute kid.This, right after introducing Mitsuya to a food he’d never experienced before! We can thank @isaksbestpillow for making this possible, and this feels especially poignant for me right after we said goodbye to Okita Kakeru, who explicitly wanted to be seen as cute. I am really excited about the queer themes that keep coming out of this show, and I’m sure I’ll have more to say.

Takara and Taishin Avoiding Breakup Nonsense on Takara’s Treasure

So often in these shows with small age gaps in school, they never seem to know how to cope with graduation. I finished rewatching You’re My Sky last night, and that show solved it with travel for one couple, and external collaboration for the mains. I loved this show having the older partner ask the junior directly about the challenges of life after graduation for them as a couple. 

This worked so well, because the show has shown us for weeks that Taishin is always paying attention to Takara, and @lurkingshan detailed how many ways Taishin showed that he understood Takara this week, and I appreciated @clownshoessqueaking covering how Takara has managed his restraint across this show. It’s just so rare that we see two characters have the important conversation that needs to be had, and give each other the exact assurances they need. Taishin got to hear directly from Takara about how things were going for them, and was able to say that he wanted the relationship and initiate physical intimacy between them. 

For all that this show has felt really quiet for two months, it’s becoming one of the shows I will likely remember from this year. 

That’s all for now. Thanks for reading!

[lxverrings]

Lost Little Lamb.

A Miguel O’hara fic. (Unresolved Angst,17+)

Disclaimer: The “religion” depicted here that reader is from originally, is not real, and is simply a mirage of the nasty underbelly of Catholicism/Christianity. You’re here to be horny, not religious anyway.

A/N: Lol I’ve had this in drafts for SOOOO long. I fixed it a wee bit, and you guys let me know if um. You want part 2... I’m a bit rusty, sorrz

Summary: Reader is currently worshipping some obscure figure after Catholicism has failed in the glory of its broken system. Pleasing this “God” via “Sacrifices” which if I describe; are not words listed in the Bible, all is consensual, nothing is done without consent prior.

Warnings: Nothing done to reader, but dark themes such as blind worship, and religious trauma. Reader is completely devoted to Miguel, Fem!Reader. Eventual smut (?), alternating POVs, done in 3rd POV. No use of “y/n”.

This might be more self indulgent than I want it to be, tbh.

How did you get here? ... Did you lose your way, little lamb?... Once so holy... Yet here you are. ...This book has led down a path of nothing but evil, now has it? ... Have you come to repent?... Have you come to change?

The answer, is no. Not really.

...

Many proclaimed you a witch in the vicinity of town, why? Because you decided to believe in something else. Those questions you received were nothing but taunts the priests held to you visage every time you stepped remotely close to the church.

...But why did you venture near it? You didn’t know. But He did. He who saved you.

He saved you. You should be greatful.

“Greatful I am for him.” you muttered into the book you found on the night of your misfortune.

...

All it took was confiding in one priest. That man broke your trust. He indefinitely broke it. The putrid smell of his musk as he threatened to tell the townsfolk what you did as you broke away, shots of lightning powering through voltages and rumbling through town.

On that night, you clearly remembered wondering, ‘Was that Thor’s lightning bolt? Or was it Zeus’...?’

Well... No matter. Your boots were shoved into the mush of the earth as water hit your cheeks, was it the rain or your tears? Only salt could tell you that. Slipping to find some sort of freedom as the winds howled your name, screeching through your veins as you were hurled into a cave... The blaring winds howling at your misfortune, the belittling forest trampling you further down that misbegotten path.

It was a strange cave, that one. Strange Aztec symbols, lost doom, foreign glory, and a taste of freedom so close... Yet so far.

...

And there it was.

All it took was a little venturing further down the unwelcoming atmosphere.

The answer.

You had no idea yet, but when you opened the book, the cave seemed to lit up, and a strange voice croaked to life, as if awakened.

“Me despertaste. Who are you? And where do you come from? May I ask?” Frantically, you almost threw the book away– who fucking wouldn’t? At the sound of such a sudden voice, it is only natural, the want to run away.

“What are you afraid of? ¿Porqué corres?... You smell of fear.”

“... I- I’m sorry, the priest- he threatened me and I-” it would be too awkward to say it was this... Thing. That had frightened you anyway.

“Shhh, ovejita. No llores. No tengas miedo de mí.” seems it knew.

“What... Do you mean?”

“I have the answer to your problem. I can fix it for you. If you do one thing... Para mí.”

Desperate for a way out, you agreed to take the book this voice asked you to take. You were free to leave it, but... You felt strangely attached to it? How weird. How... Unsettling. Attachment... To a book.

...

But you soon followed with the bidding of this being you now knew went by... ‘Miguel’. A common, human name, really. But maybe that was the point. Maybe that was his trick. And maybe that’s what he wanted... So for now, you would refrain from using it.

(POV change)

A simple task, really. Everyday, ask people if they were interested in seeing if they were worthy for a divine presence beyond mortal understanding. Some agreed, some disagreed.

Those who did agree, were soon addicted to the euphoric feeling this ritual gave them. Miguel knew. He knew all too well.

What a perfect little bride you are, as oblivious as ever, unknowing these rituals aren’t for him;

They’re for you.

And he knows that, but you don’t... He knows that. He knows your smaller, more fragile body would never be able to sustain his demonic form... He’d break you. Literally.

...

So here he is. The candlelight morphing into his shadows.

“Muñequita.” He whispered in a deep rumble– the one he always had for you. Such a pretty, innocent little thing. Oblivious to everything.

Such pretty little eyes in awe of his presence. How he wanted to see you cry on his cock, begging for more– No, no. You’re not ready. Not yet... Not quite. But he hasn’t stopped thinking about you for a minute, less so with those innocent little eyes watching his shadow in awe.

“Ah! Sorry... I didn’t feel your presence, My lord.”

Translations:

“Miguel will suffice.” he hissed. But... it was gentle, his shadow gently caressed you, making shivers run down your back, “I need you to go fetch something for me. A small... Offering. If you will. If you have finished reading my book... You should know I will need more. Voy a necesitar más de tí.”

“And... Will you comply with keeping me safe?”

“Sí, mí dulce.”

1. “You have awakened me.“ (tone: demanding/accusatory)

2. “Why are you running?”

3. “Shhh, little lamb. Don’t cry. Don’t be afraid of me.”

4. “...For me.”

5. “Little lamb...”

Tags:

6. “I will need more of you.”

7. “Yes, my sweet.”

@obi-mom-kenobi

[nc-vb]

𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, pt. i

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

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

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

pairing -> albedo x fem!reader

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

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

wc -> 14.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I see! He wasn’t busy, was he?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Naturally."

"Then I will like these ones, too."

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

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

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

"Of course," you say.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“______?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nod, cheeks hot.

“… a-are you able to reproduce?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Exactly.”

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

“My apologies,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mm… hm.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“_-______, what—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No, these should definitely stay on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good. I’m going to begin now.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wheeze tiredly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… alright.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“If you’re sure, then,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m… c-coming… hngh!!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… may I ask why?” he murmurs.

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

Albedo agrees wordlessly, when his gaze falls from yours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hum in thought. “Is it… edible?”

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

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

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

“Want to run another experiment?”

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

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[cherr-22]

TNGDH 39

“Why so? It’s a long distance to the palace, making it a difficult trip for Cashew to follow.”

Kyle looked at me in surprise. Receiving that gaze, I let the words flow out of my mouth like flowing water.

“How hard could it be to take along a little chestnut…… no, a demonic beast? You could take it to the famous demonic beast specialist at the imperial palace for a checkup and feed it delicious food. Besides, I bet you’d be worried about leaving Cashew alone for days.”

“Hmm.”

“However, you absolutely cannot inject mana into it! Only a regular checkup is allowed. Besides, you were going to have Cashew checked by the specialist there at least once, right?”

Kyle pondered for a while before nodding.

After spending some time together, I could now guess what he’s thinking about just by looking at his face.

Right now, he was thinking about what kind of cage to carry Cashew in, what cushion to bring along, and what snacks he should take. Seeing the tips of his lips and his eyes subtly softening, that was probably what he was thinking.

‘You like it this much, yet you didn’t think about taking it along.’

I smiled and nodded in satisfaction.

Thus, both Cashew and Shu could ride the carriage to the palace. However, there was one problem. Going to the palace didn’t take just an hour or two.

‘System. Open the store for me.’

A blue system window flickered in response to my words.

In front of me were delicious and pretty-looking items spread out. I’ve thought about it before, but the more I used my hearts and Miracle Points, the more flashy the store became.

‘You’ve also worked hard.’

Whenever I saw the system staying up all night to update the store, it reminded me of myself when I was making the game. It made me a little sad.

Developers tend to be more familiar with the night than the day, but that kind of life is very stressful. People need light to live. At that time, I almost believed that even mold might start growing on my body.

But as it happened, I ended up possessing a nocturnal animal. It made me think life really didn’t like me.

I away my thoughts and turned the pages of the store. At first, there were only one or two pages but now there were four pages.

Let’s see. I have to refrain from using too many Miracle Points, but since the system made these for me, I’ll at least take a look at them.

‘Oh. This looks delicious. This one too.’

There were all kinds of desserts made with nuts. I lived the majority of my life eating soup and hamburgers, so I couldn’t help but keep looking at the desserts decorated so beautifully.

Don’t they say that food that looks good also tastes good? Of course, the cookies and bread Kyle prepared were great, but don’t you sometimes wish to have desserts that are pretty……

‘Wait. Is that why you made these like this?’

As I narrowed my eyes, the system responded.

[⚆_⚆]

It’s fine, whatever.

It’s not like I’m going to buy them based on their appearance anyways.

Then, an item caught my eye. It must’ve come from the update since there was a big label [NEW!] on it.

NEW! [Emergency Toffee Nut Candy x5 ｜ Miracle Points 0.5% consumption ｜ Detect approaching beings while holding the candy in your mouth.]

It was an amazing item that gave you 5 candies just for 0.5 Miracle Points. Its effect was amazing so buying it ahead of time would be useful.

I bought it without thinking twice. The small, individually wrapped candies looked like they would taste like caramel.

I wanted to try one now but I held in my urge.

“Are you done?”

“Yes?”

“You were pointing your finger in the air.”

“…….”

I kept my mouth shut.

Luckily, Kyle didn’t ask me for an explanation. Perhaps because he’s used to seeing me do a lot of strange things…… though I don’t know if this is fortunate or unfortunate.

“I will prepare your clothes in the same size as before.”

“You’re preparing my clothes too? You don’t have to.”

“Your attire will affect how people see you in the imperial palace. The ones at the North are not good enough.”

Kyle’s voice was soft, but I knew that I had to take it seriously.

I knew It. I knew it more than anyone else. This was something Kyle experienced himself in the past, and this was the attitude of the nobles of the imperial palace towards those from the North.

I’ve also been treated like that before in my previous life. I guess growing older won’t always make you mature.

I scratched the back of my head and nodded. This wasn’t a hard request from Kyle anyways. Thinking about it, this was also something that could affect Kyle’s reputation.

“Then, I’ll leave it to you.”

“Alright.”

Two weeks until Sen and Belial’s engagement ceremony.

There was plenty of time to prepare.

*

“Put this over there, ah, that one goes there.”

“How long has it been since we’ve went to the palace?”

“Definitely been at least a year!”

“Hold the reins well. And inspect the carriage again!”

From early in the morning, the Blake castle was like a marketplace. Even I, who rarely woke up from my sleep to most noises, had my eyes wide open.

I gazed at the sunlight seeping through the curtains. Seeing that it was still a little dark, it must’ve been around six o’clock.

―Squeak squeak. (It’s today.)

I stretched and reached for the strawberry sweater I tucked away in the corner of my hut. I then put on the sweater, regardless of my own feelings about it.

Because my limbs were short, I was only able to put it on after rolling in the sawdust a few times. But thinking about it again, Kyle got my measurements accurately.

―Squeak……. (Sigh. This is my life as a hamster.)

I pat off the sawdust stuck on the sweater and used ‘Summon’ after checking the door.

It seemed that it would be a while before Kyle comes to get me. Well, it wouldn’t take much effort to put me in the hamster cage anyways.

‘Let’s see…….’

I hid myself in a corner and used ‘Summon’.

I closed my eyes from the bright light and when I opened them, I was in a familiar room. On top of the bed were the clothes Kyle prepared for me.

I took off the sweater and stored it in the inventory before changing into the new clothes.

The high-quality silk gently wrapped around my body and flowed down elegantly. There were no extravagant accessories, but it definitely had a luxurious feel. Even the golden embroidery didn’t feel like it was made in vain.

‘The pants also fit me well.’

As I was examining my appearance in front of the mirror, I raised my eyebrows at a sudden thought.

“……How does he know my size?”

It was really mysterious. It wasn’t as if he measured me while I was asleep, nor did he ever asked me.

A knock came from the door.

I turned towards the door to open it. Outside was a familiar servant, unable to hide his excited face.

“His Highness Kyle asked me to bring the demonic beast specialist over to him.”

“Ah. Thank you for coming to get me. However, there is somewhere I want to visit first.”

“Yes?”

I led the curious servant towards into the study. I unfolded a black cloth I had prepared and covered the hamster house with it.

From now on, I must keep this hamster house with me no matter what. At least half a day, I must keep it with me.

“Let’s go.”

The servant, who had been examining my actions, tilted his head in confusion, but hurriedly moved on.

As I followed him, I checked the number of Miracle Points I had. After buying two cookies and some candies yesterday, I had exactly 20 percent left.

After complaining to the system all day long to lower the prices, I was able to save quite a few points.

[(￣へ￣)]

Hey. Do you think I’m saving money for my own benefit?

……Well technically I am.

“You can get on this carriage.”

The servant who took me outside bowed his head and walked away at a slow pace. His steps were so light that it almost seemed as if he were skipping. No, he probably was, seeing how happy he looked. He must also be taking the carriage to the palace.

Well, I did hear that it has been 1 year since they were able to go on a trip to the imperial palace. It was definitely a joyous event. It was said that the climate and atmosphere of the palace were the opposite of the North, making it feel like it was a foreign country. Of course, I heard this from Kyle.

“Shu.”

“Oh my gosh!”

I jumped in place.

Turning my head, I saw Kyle standing with a cape in his arms.

“Make some noise as you move around, please!”

“I didn’t know you could jump so high.”

“Ah! Really! Don’t scare me like that.”

As I grumbled at him, Kyle wrapped the cloak around my shoulders and chuckled.

“I did call for you, but I thought I’d have to circle around the castle a few times to find you. Were you in your room?”

“Of course. And you even prepared my clothes. Ah. I also brought Cashew with me, so there’s no need to go to the study.”

I pointed at the hamster house with my chin and held the cloth tighter. I’ll never open it. Don’t even think about removing the cloth.

“Thank you. Now, I’ll take it with me.”

Kyle held out his hand. I avoided the hand and twirled my body away from him.

“No. I could take care of it plenty well. It’s not like you’re going to play with Cashew on the way, so you can just leave it to me and focus on your work.”

“Then, let me see its face at least once…….”

“Ahem! Do you not see the time? Don’t disturb its sleep! Even demonic beasts have a routine.”

I quickly got into the carriage before Kyle could push on anymore. I sat down and held the cage in my arms as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Kyle entered the carriage after me and said after sitting across from me.

“I won’t take it from you so loosen up.”

“Really?”

“……Have you lived your entire life being fooled?”

I certainly have. But I couldn’t say that and just relaxed my hands and shoulders.

I’ve been tense the whole time, making my shoulders feel a little stiff. As I groaned and complained about wanting to massage them, Kyle suddenly took out a bag.

“Still, we should feed it…….”

“I will feed it! I will!”

I quickly pressed myself to the window like a magnet. I glared at him with wary eyes, and he bursted into laughter.

“……Are you enjoying yourself?”

Are you enjoying playing around with me?

He had a calm smile on his face. He tilted his head and rested his chin on his hand, which was held up against the carriage wall. 

“Being with you always makes me feel happy.”

Just then, the carriage started moving. A light breeze blew in through the window. I turned my head away with a sullen look on my face.

The tip of my ears felt a warm.

Even though the wind blowing felt cool.

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

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

[pure-ablution]

Can you give us a harsh truth?

This isn’t really a harsh truth, but it is something that you really do need to consider if you want to be able to implement the advice that you’ve been given and do well for yourself in the way that I think most of my followers envisage for themselves. I receive a lot of asks and see a lot of general posts and comments which basically amount to “but what if I can’t do that because X?” It doesn’t really matter what X is, I’ve received asks from girls who can’t wear makeup because of skin or sensory issues, or who can’t transfer to a better university because of their grades, or who can’t get an internship because of their social anxiety, and I’m sure that you can think of lots of other examples in the same sort of vein.

I sympathise with these girls, I really do. Unfortunately, the world at large isn’t really all that sympathetic. I don’t like to be one of those ‘the world is unfair’ type of pessimistic people, but there comes a point wherein you have the choice to either troubleshoot your problem, or choose to live with the consequences. Sometimes you have barriers holding you back from achieving that mean you need to redirect yourself towards something different, and sometimes you need to figure out a creative way of overcoming your hurdles—but sometimes it’s a do-or-don’t sort of situation, and if you don’t, then you need to learn how to be okay with missing out on a few things. Life doesn’t dish out participation trophies or compensatory prizes, and if you’re unable to do something then you just won’t do it, it’s a very simple equation. You need to learn how to weigh up whether or not the consequences of not doing something are important to you, and sometimes, they’re actually not.

I know a girl, let’s call her Lola, who used to live on my dorm block. Lola is a first-gen Medicine student and she comes from a Traveller background, she has a very strong regional British accent, and she looks very different from everyone else at our university, with a heavy spray tan and makeup. She suffers a lot of discrimination and general prejudice from her fellow students and the professors too, on account of her appearance and background. Honestly, from an objective perspective, she would have done much, much better to have made an effort to fit in more with those around her. Instead, she seems to take a pride in not losing her accent, maintaining her looks the way she likes them, and overtly rejecting the snobbery and overall ‘look’ of our university student body. She often seemed paradoxical and downright bitter to the other students, in the way that she’d arrived at such a prestigious and ancient university and outright rejected its traditions and customs—it seemed weirdly arrogant and out-of-touch, as though she felt she didn’t need to fit in with the rest of them.

I asked her about this once, when we got talking in the hallway one rainy afternoon, and she explained to me very simply that her respect for her heritage culture and the value she has for her family meant much, much more to her than ‘doing well socially’ with a bunch of rich kids whom she’d never see again after graduation. She planned to get her degree, do her training, and move straight back home as a local GP for her community—she didn’t care about networking or fitting in, when that would go against her personal values. Most people, especially those who regularly consume the kind of content posted on level-up communities and whatever, would have argued that she was doing herself a disservice, that she was wasting a world-class opportunity, but Lola didn’t see it like that at all; she wanted to do the best for her community, and studying Medicine at a top university was the best way to do that, it was simple as that for her.

I have to say, I respect Lola a lot for that. She can’t fit in with the general student body without seriously changing some key aspects of herself, and entirely hiding others, and she’s chosen not to do so, and she’s made peace with the fact that she’ll suffer some snide comments and lost opportunities along the way. I think it serves as a really important reminder that sometimes it’s better to not do something, to not adhere to social norms, if it doesn’t align with our values and long-term goals. When you’re weighing up the pros and cons of something as simple as putting on makeup for the day or as big as moving to a new city, you need to consider whether the sacrifices you make are actually worth it to you. Not whether they’re the sort of sacrifices a certain blogger has told you need to be made, or the sort of sacrifices that will give you a highly Instagrammable lifestyle, but whether they’ll actually move you forward with your personal plan in the long-term. If you suffer from sensory issues with makeup, for example, you need to figure out whether it’s better for you to force yourself to cope with the problems that arise from wearing makeup, and reap rewards in terms of your physical and social appearance, or whether it’s better for you to not wear makeup, and deal with the fact that you’ll need to work harder socially and with other aspects of self-care.

If you’re reading this, then you live in a free enough country to be able to make your own choices on matters like these, and I think that it’s crucial that you learn where your values and goals sit, so as to figure out what’s worth the trouble and what’s really not.

[berylcups]

Yandere Files: Melone X Hostess Club Reader

CW: pregnancy, drinking, drugs, dubious consent, childhood neglect, overstimulation, foot fetish

Notes: Beryl here! Another manipulative yandere post! It’s doesn’t feel very yandere-ish this time. I guess it’s because they’re less violent/forceful and use their words more to get what they want. I hope you fruit lovers enjoy ~ This one is much lewder than the others. Minors DNI

Y/N has been dealt some pretty shitty cards in life. If they were able to describe their life in one word it would be: Unlucky. They had an inattentive mother and mentally abusive and violent stepfather. Where’s the real father? Good question. They dipped out the minute their mother announced she was pregnant.

Their mother was pregnant and just given birth again. She was too lazy to take care of 2 children at once and why does the stepfather want to raise a child that isn’t his own? So they get sent off to boarding school. This wasn’t the best option either. Y/N caused trouble, got into fights, and neglected their school work. They were smart but they only wanted to learn on their own terms.

At age 18 their family stopped financially supporting them and they were left to fend for themselves. All they could afford was a super cheap studio apartment in the dangerous part of Napoli. But good news for Y/N their luck was beginning to turn around. They got a job at a specialty cafe!

The cafe took heavy inspiration from the east for its very accommodating atmosphere. Hostesses and hosts would be pouring wine for their guests, lighting their cigarettes and cigars, sitting with them, conversing, laughing at their jokes, flirting with them, and having a non alcoholic drink with them. Y/N liked this because they liked giving and receiving attention! It’s not that they're necessarily extroverted, they just been starved of the love and attention they needed as a child.

But there’s one thing that they can’t ignore but can’t say anything about…mafia activity. Specifically Passione. But why would that bother Y/N when all they have to do is keep quiet and act like nothings wrong? Easy peasy. In fact Y/N kinda likes when Passione members come in, they spend soooooo much money and it means more money in their pocket! Getting commissions off drinks and the offers of dates for money or luxury goods is huge perk for them!

There’s a regular that comes in that none of the hostess like dealing with. The guy is good looking but he’s aloof and kinda creepy. He always asks weird questions…. Intrusive questions. He never uses his real name. Just Melone. That’s it. Weird. But being the youngest and the newest hostess Y/N was the one who had the misfortune of having to serve him.

"Buonasera signore~. I’ll be at your service tonight. May I serve you?” Y/N asks, slightly sweating. They were nervous.

He looks up from his laptop with a bored expression and looks them up and down. His teal eyes shined slightly with a bit of interest.

“Please sit down.” He said coolly and gets back to typing on his laptop .

He was weird! Just like the others said! Oh man this is going to be a very long night.

“So tell me…are you healthy?” He asks without looking up.

“Uh… what?” That question was odd and took them off guard.

“Are you in a good health condition? No health problems?” He clarified looking back up making eye contact.

Maybe he’s in the medical field… Oh well this is awkward but Y/N is being paid to humor him.

“Yes sir…I am.” Y/N replied.

“Polite too. Interesting. What’s your date of birth and blood type? Also do you smoke or drink? Illicit drugs? I’m clearly not a cop so you can be honest..” He stared back at his screen.

Things are getting weirder and weirder…why does he wanna know all this?

“Ahem… my birthdate is ________ and uh… I don’t know my blood type sorry. I don’t smoke because it’s bad on my skin but I do drink socially. No drugs…other than what I’ve been prescribed.” Y/N rambled.

“Uh uh uh. I don’t need to know why- I just need to know if you do.” He said waving his finger in front of them.

“Rude prick. I better get paid good for this….” Y/N thought.

“So you don’t know your blood type..? Hmm.” He grabbed your hand in one fluid motion and licked it.

“What the fuck?!” Y/N shrieked as they pulled their hand back.

“ Mmmm… according to your delectable fingers your blood type is ____.” He purred as he licked his lips.

“Uh great.” Y/N says in a sarcastic tone. “ Do you need a drink? Because I need to wash my hands…”

He ignored the question and excitedly starts typing on his weird keyboard putting in all the strange information he requested. His excitement was short-lived. “Oh… what a shame. You aren’t a match either. You’re too compatible with the target. Sigh…none of the AFAB here are incompatible. Why is it so difficult this time around???” He says dejectedly.

“I’m sorry..?” They didn’t know what to say.

“Well… I have an hour or two to kill before I gotta get back to work. Let’s use this time wisely and get to know each other. You’re new around here aren’t you? What’s your name?” He asked, showing an ounce of interest.

“Oh so NOW he wants to know about me?! What is up with this guy???” You thought angrily.

You swallowed the anger into the bottom of your stomach and just played along.

“Yeah I’m new. I’m Y/N and I’ve been working here for about a month and a half.” They said. “ I’m assuming you work a very important job since you're glued to your laptop.” You observed.

“Y/N…What a lovely name. It suits you.” He says. “Let’s just say my job is important and dangerous but it’s not currently being valued as much as it should right now .” He subtly hinted at being a part of the familia.

“What made you decide to work here?” He asked. “You look like you belong in university.”

“Well that’s a long story. I can’t afford it. Once I turned 18 years ago my mom and stepdad stopped financially supporting me or… just supporting me in general. So I had to fend for myself. Basically I have no family but I got my own studio apartment and a job here so I’m fully independent now and don’t need them!” Y/N explained.

“Really? That’s quite awful. You never stop being a parent just because your child grew up.” He frowned .

“Yeah…It really makes me wanna make sure that I will never be like them when I become a parent one day.”

They’re interested in having children in the future? Now Melone is genuinely curious. Not to mention that they are healthy and their Zodiac lines right up there with his. Could this be the one? He’s tried so many times but things never seemed to work out for some reason… Well, at least they made good surrogates for Junior. Y/N might be the right soul mate this time!

“Are you free next Sunday?” He asked. “ I want to get to know you better. We could go to that nice park in the good part of town.”

He didn’t give off the best first impression but Y/N was a kind person. Why not give him a chance? It’s not the first time they went on a date with one of their patrons. Maybe they will get another Gucci purse or pair of high heels out of it!

“Sure. Sounds like it will be fun! Do you want me to meet you there or are you gonna meet me at my place?” Y/N asked cheerfully.

“Di molto bene! I’ll meet you at your place then.” He says excitedly.

Y/N wrote down their phone number and address on his receipt and that concluded their meeting for the night.

This might have been a bad idea. Let’s see how it plays out.

——————————-

The moment he sees your tiny cramped apartment he’s internally frowning. That’s no place to start a family. Hand me down furniture and outdated amenities and creepy neighbors…creepy even for him? That’s saying something!

“I never been on a bike before so I’m a little scared.” You confessed and he just smiles and pats on the space behind him.

“Don’t worry! I won’t go that fast! Just hold on to me nice and tight. It’s only a 5 minute drive so it won’t be long.” He said trying to ease your anxiety.

He loved how you clung to him the whole time. Feeling your chest against his back made his thoughts wander to what they looked like without clothing concealing them. These types of thoughts are not new to him of course. So he's easily able to tame his cock from waking up.

He didn’t expect you to be distracted the whole time though. While sitting on the grass at the park after a long walk he kept rambling about pseudoscience and zodiac signs. He stopped for a moment to see what you were looking at. You were looking over at the playground. A mother was kneeling in front of their crying daughter. She was putting a bandage on the little girls scraped knee and kissed it.

He looked at you and you had a mix of emotions all over you. Sadness, happiness, jealousy, confusion…it was a complicated look.

“I wish that were me…” you sighed. “ such a loving family. I want that too.”

He learned a lot about you that day. You were perfect for him. You were neglected and love starved, perfect for the taking. And you’re open to having children! You’re on his wavelength! Oh he’s not going to let you go.

He visits you often at the cafe. He always specifically requests for you and no one else. The others are jealous that you're able to catch his attention and he isn’t creepy towards you. He asks for dates often and buys lots of drinks so you make lots of money from him. He still asks odd questions from time to time…like favorite Kama sutra position , and when your menstrual cycle is. But he’s good at slowly manipulating you into normalizing this behavior. He likes you sitting in his lap while you two talk. He says close contact releases oxytocin.

Many of his dates include shoe and lingerie shopping at the department store. He always insists on putting the shoes on your feet for you. He enjoys massaging your feet too when they’re sore from all the walking. He has to hold back the urge to want to suck on your toes since you’re both in public. But he definitely can’t hold back his hard on seeing you in luxury brand 5 inch heels. Good thing he’s wearing civilian clothes for most of these dates, that jumpsuit wouldn’t hide a damn thing.

Everything is running smoothly. He’s gained your trust, now all he has to do is get you inside his house.

This time though he takes you to hang out at his house. He gets you a glass after glass of wine to make sure you’re nice and drunk so you’re easy to take advantage of. He’s not going to be able to keep his hands off of you and you’re too drunk to say no. He’s feeling you up and shoving his tongue inside your mouth and you’re lazily just reciprocating not really understanding what’s going on but just feeling the warmth build up inside you.

You’re going to wake up in bed with him with no recollection of what happened the night before. He’s just clinging to you, beaming that finally awake.

“Buongiorno Y/N~. Did you sleep well? Last night was… amazing.” He pulled you in close and nuzzled into your chest.

The first time was a little concerning but you trusted him. You assumed you wanted it but just don’t remember. It’s a little awkward but you both reached a huge milestone in your relationship! That’s supposed to be a good thing! You just wished you could remember it…

He uses his manipulation skills to convince you to move in with him and quit your job.

“I think it would be for the best if you got out of that dangerous apartment and moved in with me. I worry so much for your safety. We already spend so much time together, don’t you want to take our relationship to the next level? Also about your job… I’m not really happy with you spending time with other guys. I know it’s just business but I can’t help but feel jealous of another man who even looks at you! You understand right?”

He becomes more controlling once you move in. You cannot leave the house without his verbal permission. And don’t bother trying sneaking out, he has cameras everywhere they’re all linked to his laptop.

He sneaks prenatal vitamins into your food when he cooks for you. The food is always fantastically seasoned so that you can’t taste the pill.

He has a massive sexual appetite and if you can’t keep up with him that’s perfectly okay! Because he’ll give you aphrodisiacs to help with that. Whether you want to or not.

He keeps up with your menstrual cycle and knows when you’re ovulating. When you’re ovulating is when he’s the most ruthless.

He has you nearly bent in half with your legs between your head as he’s pussy drunk thrusting hard and it’s just making lewd squelching noises. He came in you 3 times already and intends on cumming even more deep into your cunt in hopes of you conceiving his children. You're overstimulated and your cunt is overflowing with his cum as he’s panting praises.

“Oh love! You’re slutty pussy keeps pulling me back in~! You’re so addictive that I can’t stop! I can’t wait to see you full and round with my child~! You're going to be a wonderful parent!”

You’re in the bathroom crying and looking at the positive pregnancy test. You don’t know what to do. You wanted a family but everything is happening so fast! You’re afraid of being as bad as your own parents. Thankfully Melone is always here to comfort you.

“You're pregnant? Di molto!!! That’s wonderful news! …why are you crying?” He’s confused.

“I’m scared I won’t be a good parent. I don’t what it’s like to be a good one! I don’t even know how to hold a baby !” You sobbed.

He wiped away your tears and gave you a big warm hug.

“Oh love~. You have nothing to worry about. You’re going to be a great parent I promise! You may not have had the best upbringing but I’ll make sure you and the baby are well taken care of.” He said kissing your forehead. “ You can always trust me.”

You can always trust Melone! He’s very trustworthy. As long as you’re willing to make a big family with him you have a very fruitful future ahead of you!

[skzstoryvault]

Into the Earth (Hyunjin, weird and spicy)

Hyunjin x f!reader

multi-chapter fic

AU

happens a few years in the future

Hyunjin is in his post-idol era. Working as an artist and fashion icon.

Warnings: mentions of scamming, dishonesty, abusive people and various kinds of abuse, parasites (and not the Bong Joon Ho clever kind), misogyny (but not Hyunjin!), ageism. Nudity (Hyunjin). More to be added with later chapters.

Hyunjin opens up and confesses to some very painful things in this chapter.

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real persons depicted here. They all deserve the world.

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

Like I mentioned, this story is finished, but I will slightly change its course based on the way the chapters are received.

Story title is inspired by a Lorna Shore song

Part 5

Part 6 - Hesitate to feel

When he returns to the house, to help with dinner, he finds you sitting at the stone table outside, wrapped in a blanket and typing away on your laptop. “Good evening, jefa. Everything alright?” He greets you, looking concerned by the blanket. 

“Hi, Hyunjin. I hope it’s nothing serious, but I think my body is trying to fight off a cold. I know it’s hot outside but right now I am freezing, hence the blanket. I was just reading some client feedback, do you want to sit with me and read too? Some of them make some good suggestions.”

“Sure.” Hyunjin says, hurrying to come sit right next to you on the stone bench. He learned pretty quickly that sitting opposite someone at a table is a Nordic habit and here it is not seen as friendly. Here, people love to sit close like lovers, even if it is to share a plate of tapas and argue about football. “Paloma told me you’ve been on your A game for the longest time. Are you having a good time here? Is it what you imagined?” You ask him, becoming hyper-aware of his closeness. He smells good, like the fragrant breeze blowing this time of the year and the ripe fruit he’s been picking the entire day. 

“It is more than I hoped. I thought it would just be… harsh and bad, that it would teach me what it’s like in the real world, but… If I’m honest, I don’t think this is the real world. Everyone is happy to work here. Everyone is friendly and supportive, even though we are all so different. You take care of us. There’s no one whipping us to make us work, or keeping us in ugly barracks without water, electricity and internet. I have more time off now than I did when I was an idol.” “You were a very good idol, from what I’ve gathered. I saw a few dance solos and challenges.” You admit. “What made you leave the industry? You seemed very popular.”

Hyunjin looks down at the structure of the table, frowning and sighing before he decides to speak. “I was very popular. But I was also very hated. I guess it comes with the fame. People are just envious and want what you have, without wanting to also put in the work to be where you are. And then… I had to go be in the military for a year and a half. It… fucked me up. I was told that the military would help us become more self-sufficient, resourceful and mature. Well… Self-sufficient? They told us to just never complain and if there is something bad, we should keep it inside because men don’t do therapy and talk about problems. Men solve problems, they don’t have problems! I got beaten up there. By the superiors and the other guys. When I tried to report that I was bullied, I got hit and told I should deal with it like a man and not cry to a parent like a little boy. It was so humiliating too, the backhanded slaps and the belts. Or the soap twisted in a wet towel. I once got jumped in the shower. Couldn’t sleep well, ever, because they always did something to me to hurt or annoy me. The others kept threatening me that they would cut my face in my sleep because no one needs to be too good looking and they have to… even the playing field. Eventually I learned to fight back. And I hated that the most. I didn’t like who I had to become to come out of that unharmed. Mostly.”

You gasp at his casual admission of what was surely one of the most horrible times in his life and you reflexively take his nearest hand between your two, wanting to comfort him. “Oh poor Hyune,” the pet name just slips and you squeeze his hand. “That’s horrifying! I’m sorry that happened to you. And I understand how you couldn’t wait to get away from that.” “Eazi told me you are a software engineer by training. That can’t have been smooth sailing all the way either. What I experienced is not out of the ordinary, it is the male experience. I just wasn’t able to toughen up from it. I was so afraid I would also get raped while there… I got so sick with stress and fear, I couldn’t sleep, and to this day I can’t poop easily anymore.” You laugh involuntarily at the TMI. “Sorry, I forgot here it’s not okay to talk about our pooping habits.” Hyunjin says, blushing and looking down. “It’s okay, I just didn’t expect that. I don’t really mind. Besides, it’s a good indicator of wellbeing.” You say. “I have a unisex first name, so I had pretty smooth sailing in my job, my CV didn’t get binned because recruiters didn’t see my name and assume I would get pregnant in the first year and go on maternity leave for two years on their dime, stuff like that. Of course, I had my fair share of injustice, because once I showed up for a job and men saw I was a woman, they didn’t like it. I was ruining their all boys’ club or some shit. My mom, who is more traditional and has more learned misogyny built in, didn’t like that I chose that career path. She also sided with my male coworkers and told me I was making waves and of course I was a problem, women have no business in those types of industries and I was just shoving myself in where I did not belong.” “That is so unfair too. And gross. If you’re good at something, you belong there.” Hyunjin says. “And… you should call me Hyune more often, I like it when people say my name with love.” 

“Alright, I’ll remember that. Hyune. That’s so cute. And it fits you. I guess we all deal with unnecessary hurdles set in our path by hateful idiots. But I wanted to ask, do you like it here? Is this place giving you what you hoped for?” “Oh, yes, absolutely. I probably won’t be doing this for years in a row, but meeting you, the others, getting to do the work, learning to cook from everyone else… It’s been so good, it made me feel like I’m not broken for wanting to slow down and simplify a bit. My life in Paris may have seemed perfect and goals for anyone else, but it was pretty hollow. I guess I’m also sad I couldn’t be with my members and be idols together indefinitely.” 

You squeeze his hand in comfort and caress his back soothingly. That must have hurt a lot to admit. “I understand missing the people who became your bonus family. Such deep bonds are very precious and anyone would hold on to them with all they’ve got.” You say. “Your industry, however, is ruthless, and doesn’t suffer anyone becoming older.” 

“Yeah, I saw it play out even more painfully with Felix. I love him so much, he’s like my miracle baby. And with him, it started while we were still active as idols, he grew up and at some point the waddling baby kitten look no longer fit him… and everyone started hating him for it. It was so painful to see people withdraw their love and support. And… some predatory people seeing it as a good opportunity to swoop in and profit off of his pain. Luckily, Felix is tough as nails and takes absolutely no shit.” “It’s obvious how much you love this guy, your entire face lights up talking about him.”

“I didn’t want to make you sad. I’m sorry.” “That’s alright, you didn’t. And I did ask. I am, however, even more impressed with the leap you’ve taken. From world-famous celebrity to… this.” 

“People always say I’m useless. That I’m too pretty to ever do anything. That I’m a pillow princess, that I can’t do shit for myself, that I need a man who treats me like a trophy wife. I guess I sold them the image I was told to embody a bit too well. I am proving to myself that I can do a lot, exactly the things everyone said I cannot do. I love waking up at dawn, eating a nice breakfast with people I like and who like me back, then going to tend to the trees and other plants. And the dogs.” 

“Mmm, spite is a great motivator.” You say, realising you’ve had Hyunjin’s hand in yours for the entire conversation and he hasn’t pulled it away. “I’m no stranger to that.” “Why do I feel like I can tell you everything and anything? You’re my boss.” “Not really, I mean, you don’t have to be here. We’re more like… friends with a secret.” You point out. “Oh, I love that!” Hyunjin says, clapping in delight. “But I still feel very comfortable with you.” “Because this is all not just low, but really no stakes. You don’t have to work for me, but you decided to do it anyway. I like keeping a chill atmosphere between all of us. Not to use that against people, but to keep the farm running and drama-free.” 

Later, in his room, Hyunjin catches himself drawing on a piece of purple packaging paper. He did not take any art supplies along, or his iPad, hoping that the year away from his tools would give him an inspiration and motivation boost. The plan is to accumulate ideas, feelings, impressions, images in his mind and then let them ferment there for a while before committing them to paper. But now he just feels the need to scribble away, the excess energy crawling under his skin like little ladybugs on leaves. It’s all just sketches of you, he notes, when he finally exhausts himself and goes to bed. You don’t even have a face in many of them, but he captured your hands perfectly, and drew them holding his hand, the way wisps of your hair peek out from under your sun hat and the way your work overalls have three top buttons popped open and of course, being a man and alive, Hyunjin looked down there to catch the casually offered glimpse of sports bra from underneath. It drives him wild, he thinks, snuggling in his bedding like a bug in a rug. How he knows you are a woman, but he forgets it completely when he’s with you. He simply can’t think of you like that, can’t easily place you in the same box as the other women he knows, hell, he can’t even think of you the same way he thinks of Paloma and Cass and Kree. You’re an enigma to him, a beautiful present wrapped in a juicy, appealing mix of power and that type of energy that always drew him to someone in the past - a quiet confidence that radiates and reassures those around the person. That’s something he loves so much in Chan, and Changbin, and Felix. He doesn’t know why he thinks of that, from the angle of someone needing protected (from what? there’s no immediate threat to him in 99,99% of the cases), but maybe the fans were right about this one thing, maybe he is like a little girl who needs to feel safe in order to be herself and he is drawn to people who give off the vibe that they will protect him, even if it’s from a too spicy fried chicken.  “Oh shit,” Hyunjin thinks. “I’m catching fee-”

And then he’s out like a light.

Part 7

[the-chosen-fanfiction]

Shmuel | The Cost Of The Truth | Romantic

Dialogue prompts: “I didn’t know you could love me like that” & “I will never be enough for you, will I?”

When both you and your father Nicodemus take an interest in the Preacher Shmuel so despises, your marriage is bound to collapse.

Requested by Kacey, Mae & Katie 

You don’t like having to sneak around your own home, but you have no choice. Upon returning to your house from visiting your parents, you’ve slipped upstairs to the study without making a noise. 

Once there, you take out whatever you had been hiding underneath your cloak. A small scroll, able to fit inside the palm of a hand, sits between your fingers, unsealed. As you look over your shoulder towards the door, a sigh of relief floods you as you find yourself completely alone. 

You unravel it, thumbing at the inscription on the parchment. Your father’s hand is all too familiar as you swallow hard upon reading what he has written. A report about Jesus of Nazareth. It is detailed, hastily scribbled as if he had been afraid to be found out writing such a thing, and quickly rolled up into a scroll without allowing the ink to dry, causing it to be a little smudged here and there. In spite of its messy appearance, the report can still be read clearly. 

Nicodemus had pushed it into your hands upon your departure with a whispered order. “Don’t show anyone.” Not your mother. Not your husband. Nobody. A member of the Sanhedrin cannot be seen voicing a decree of faith as strong and scandalous as your father’s. 

Your heart swells and beats for every word about this Preacher from Nazareth, Who is so much unlike any other prophet that had brought the Word of God to the people. Words and actions so unlikely that there was no other explanation but for Him to be the Messiah, the One that had been promised - a proclamation that would not sit well with the religious leaders. After all, it meant that everything everyone had ever believed about the coming of the Messiah would turn out to be false. A dangerous mixture of pride, dogma and tradition lingered at the horizon. 

Downstairs, the door opens and closes. “Darling, are you home?” Shmuel’s voice fills the home, and you quickly hide the letter in one of the drawers, straightening yourself out before heading for the door of the study. 

“I’m here.” you greet him, meeting him in the hallway. He removes his headdress and grabs your hand to kiss your knuckles. “How was work?”

Shmuel sighs. “It was difficult today, but Yanni and I are making progress. We’re going to get some members of the Sanhedrin on our side so that we can finally tackle the issue from its root.”

“Issue?” you feign ignorance.

“Jesus of Nazareth.” Shmuel says the name with such disdain that it causes your throat to run dry. 

Your husband mistakes the draining of colour from your face for fear of the Preacher in question. 

“Don’t you worry, my dearest. He will not be a problem to our people for much longer. Everything will go back to normal before we know it.” 

He squeezes your hand, then frowns a little as if realising something. 

“Have you prepared dinner yet? I can’t make out any distinct smells of food.” 

You quickly force a smile on your face.

“I was about to start. I’ve visited my parents, remember?” 

“Oh, yeah. How are they doing? How’s your father?” 

You let out a sigh. “He’s recovering slowly but surely.”

Shmuel gives you a smile as he ushers you towards the kitchen.

“That’s good to hear. Now, let me tell you that I’m starving.”

“Okay, I’ve received the message.” you sigh, part of you relieved that he doesn’t  inquire further about what you had discussed with your father. As he heads to the bedroom to change into something more casual, you start working on dinner. 

— 

A while passes and Shmuel is talking about Jesus more often than not. The letter from your father still burns inside the drawer of your desk, calling out to you, waiting to be shared. However, Nicodemus had meant these words for your eyes alone. It feels heavy on your heart. You love Shmuel, you truly do, even though your marriage had been an arranged one. The fact that you cannot share your newfound faith with your own husband is like a burden in and of itself.

A flurry of memories has been dancing around inside your mind lately, consisting of your first years of marriage to the rabbi whom was just a student at the time of the wedding. A pious, diligent and ambitious young man with a soft smile that made you weak at the knees. When Nicodemus and Zohara made the right arrangements with his parents in Jerusalem, you were overjoyed to hear the news. After all, you had plenty of friends who married men they ultimately didn’t grow to love even after years of being together. You already knew that you loved Shmuel before the entire topic of marriage even came up in the first place. 

And it turned out to be a good match. The pair of you grew to love one another deeper as time went on and you really felt like you and him were equally yoked. Everything about what you felt for him was visible even in the little things you did for him. Not only were you a homemaker who never complained about his late hours at work, but you did small things, too, like baking him a cake for his birthday or stitching up holes in his clothes before he had even noticed them himself. “I didn’t know you could love me like that,” was something Shmuel tended so say every so often, for it was a mystery to him how you could show him such genuine appreciation. “A love like this is something I didn’t know even existed.” 

Until a love greater than that suddenly seemed to exist, too. A kind of love that was different from the romantic type of bond two people could form with one another. A spiritual, divine love. A love between God and mankind, rooted in undeserved mercy and grace. 

A love that according to you can go hand in hand with your marriage to Shmuel, but a love that according to him cannot coexist. 

It tears at your household and rips it apart at the seams. No longer equally yoked. You are fully aware what choice you might have to make, even if it meant ripping your own heart to shreds. Your marriage has been crumbling. Shmuel knows — suspects something — but he doesn’t outwardly say it just yet.

You adore him. You’d do anything for him. He’s still the man you want to grow old with, to father your children, to have it all with. 

But for that to happen, something has to change. Sooner or later, it has to change in order to—

“—What is this?!” Shmuel barges into your shared bedroom one morning still in a state of undress. If he didn’t have such a furious look on his face you’d have snorted at the way his beard is trimmed only halfway. 

“What is what?” you look up from brushing your hair, turning to him to face him better. He hands you a letter all too familiar and your heart sinks into your gut like a heavy stone to the bottom of the Sea of Galilee. “It’s a letter.” 

“I can see that.” Shmuel hisses. “But to whom, and from whom? And the contents? Not to mention the location where I found it! It seems like you deliberately hid it from me.”

For a moment, you consider telling him off for fingering through your personal belongings, but you know you’ll only end up arguing even more than this will cause you to. You swallow hard, but don’t feel any shame. “My father wrote to me.” 

“About Jesus of Nazareth. And you happened to forget to tell me?! Especially that he believes the words of this heretic? Because that is what I’m getting from this message!” He throws the parchment into your lap and glares down at you. 

No guilt tugs at your heart — only pity, and the wish that things were different — and you let out a long sigh. 

“Shmuel, listen. My father and I have been talking about Jesus for a long time, because there is a lot to be said about Him, both His words and actions, and my father has been—” 

“—Believing in that heretic! That’s blasphemy and he should be brought before the Sanhedrin! Your father could get stoned for this!” 

“He knows the rules— Just listen to me, Shmuel! You have always greatly respected my father and his words, why not now?”

“Why not now— Are you even hearing yourself, (Y/n)?! Jesus is a heretic! A blasphemer!” 

“And what if He is not? What if that everything you knew about the Messiah turns out to not be true?!”  

Your husband grits his teeth as he narrows his eyes at you. 

“And what if He is? He claims to be the Son of God! You… You don’t believe in Him, do you?” He shakes his head, pointing a finger at you. “Tell me you don’t, (Y/n). I love you, but I can’t be with a woman who…” 

His voice trails off, but he has said enough for it to sting you to the very bone. You swallow away the lump in your throat. Your silence, Shmuel realises, speaks volumes. “You… Have strayed from the path of faith.” Something shifts in his gaze. Something you’ve never seen on him before. You don’t like it one bit.

“No. Quite the contrary - it’s been gaining its true meaning. Now that the Messiah is here—”

“Do not call Him that!” 

You stand up firmly, meeting Shmuel’s gaze, almost standing chest-to-chest with him as you look up unwavering. 

“You do not get to dictate who I do and do not believe in!” 

“You’re my wife, (Y/n). You should listen to your husband!”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“No, you have no idea what you’re talking about!” 

The two of you lock eyes. Your heart clenches inside your chest painfully, for you don’t want to argue with him, nor do you want division in your household. 

“Where is the Shmuel I know?” you whimper, “The kind man who was eager to learn from my father? The one my father spoke so highly of, because you were always so keen to put the Word of God into practise more than your peers? What happened to you?” 

“I could say the same thing about you.” Shmuel hisses, “Where is the respectable woman I married? The one who was always so happy to see me after a long day at work, who always listened to me talk about anything, the woman who always prepared me dinner and was there for me when I needed her?”

“She’s still here.” you counter, “But the way you have been acting ever since Jesus showed up is not the man I know and love.” 

“Things change, (Y/n).” Shmuel sounds sharp and almost accusatory.

“I know.” Your voice wavers, tears brimming on your eyes. “I know.” 

When Shmuel gives you an expectant look, you don’t reply to it. “So… Are you going to do something about it?” He frustratedly asks.

“About what?” 

“Going back to being the woman I used to love.” 

Used to love. 

Whereas you had not let it cross your lips, for you still loved him deeply, Shmuel was suddenly more firm on where he stood. 

“Used to?” your voice breaks. “So you don’t…” you trail off, not daring to say it out loud.

“I can’t. I can’t love a follower of that heretic. A follower of the Man claiming such ridiculous things…” 

Shmuel’s own dark eyes are swimming with tears as well. He refuses to spill them in front of you, not wanting to show weakness or vulnerability, not even when your entire marriage may very well depend on this moment. 

“This is heresy. You are a weak-minded fool falling for the words or a lunatic. Choosing His words over your own husband’s. I can’t love a woman like you.” 

That does it. The tears fall and roll down your face as you choke back a sob.

“Take it back. You don’t mean that, take it back.” 

For a moment, you see a flash of guilt cross his face. It hardens just as fast.

“No. I will not fail this test Adonai is putting me through right now.” 

“Test?!” you gasp, offended, “Shmuel, don’t be ridiculous! How could you ever even consider that this would be God’s way of testing your faith—” 

“—Because you’re just like them!” 

With widened eyes, you stare at him for a long moment. “Like them, huh? I… I will never be enough for you, will I? You won’t even hear me out as much as you’ve heard out Jesus. You have made up your mind already.” 

Shmuel steps closer to you, glaring down at you. 

“I want you out of my house.” 

“Very well.” you whisper, knowing it’s better to sleep about it for a night or so, taking a little distance to process the situation. 

Your heart is heavy as it teeters on the precipice of shattering inside your chest. Your husband’s eyes drill into you as he watches you start packing a few essentials.

“Your family deserves all the shame coming your way.” Shmuel spits like his words are poison, “Both you and Nicodemus are a sham. I hope it was worth it, losing everything we had for this…. This heretic Preacher.” 

You close the flap of your bag and pull it over your shoulder. “I’ll be headed towards the inn.” you say, “Will you come and get me when you’re ready to talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about. I’ll be sending you away.” 

Shmuel is looking at you with so much hatred in his gaze that you suddenly doubt if you’ve ever been married to him in the first place, or if he’d ever truly loved you at all. 

“Okay.” you whisper. It would make following Jesus around the cities somewhat easier, you suddenly think, but it’s accompanied by a bitter hurt that clenches inside your chest and sends a wave of nausea through you. “I’ll see you around, then. I… I love you.” 

“Don’t you ever say these words to me again, woman.” Shmuel hisses. “You’re just like the rest of them, you Jezebel, you—” 

You close the door behind you, trying to fight your emotions as you refuse to hear him yell these lies told right into your face any longer. Shmuel does not yank it open again, instead stares at the wood for a long while, unable to stop his own tears.

With a heavy heart, you head for your father’s house, your blood rushing inside your ears as you head through the streets, feeling torn to shreds. 

For a moment, you halt to rest and look up at the sky, drinking in the sight of the moon. Your tears glitter in its light. Looking over your shoulder, you hope Shmuel will come running, to follow you, to keep you from leaving him and begging for you to tell him more about Jesus, and that he believes that He is the Messiah…

…But he doesn’t come.

The alleyway remains empty. 

“You know the truth, even though it offends you.” you whisper into the darkness, “Now it’s up to you what you do with it.” 

A silent plea to the man you love so deeply. 

Shmuel cries silently in the hallway and gazes out of the window, hoping you’d round the corner, praying you’d return straight for the door, to tell him that you’ve made a grave error in your judgement and that you want to be with him over anything else. That your beliefs had been muddled by pretty lies and that you’d do anything to get back on the path of good faith.

The road leading up to your home also remains void of you. 

Shmuel looks up and looks upon the same moon.

Three hearts break that night.

[lostcauses-noregrets]

Before I say anything else I want to make it clear that I have so much respect for you Lost and I love your blog so much it's very precious to me but I want to be honest for once. I am an Eruri shipper, the reason why I am here in the first place, but before that I'm an Erwin fan and have always been and the amount of hate he gets is increased dramatically recently. And I mean of course twitter where the fans interact directly more than tiktok, tumblr or instagram. And the reason Erwin gets all that hate is because of this fandom. I don't say this on twitter or anywhere else because I am very shy but that's how I feel and I am pretty sure this will be seen as Eruri hate. But Eruri fandom on twitter is very much different and way bigger than here on tumblr. And they are very vocal. Most of the time it's fun, banter, jokes and things like that. But a part of the fandom is very vocal about their dislike for every other ship. They literally won't let anyone ship Erwin with Mike or Levi with others, especially Hange. They always mock Levi's fangirls and honestly, I don't appreciate how they talk about Levi (like something to be owned and only belongs to Erwin) or how often they insult other characters like Mike or Hange or "getting in the way of their ship". This isn't a problem for me personally because I am in the Eruri fandom and I choose who I interact with, I have an idea of who to follow and who to mute. But a regular person who doesn't ship Eruri doesn't know about that they often see those takes or jokes and this is one of the main reasons (apart from serum bowl) that Erwin gets so much hate. I would be pissed off, too if people always talked about Erwin like a guard dog or someone to be owned or a mindless lovesick idiot. I honestly forget why I like this ship when I see so ooc takes about them and I need to go back to manga to remember why. And I honestly don't understand why everyone is so defensive when another character's fan talks about this issue. Just because we like the same thing doesn't mean we are one, I am not responsible of other Eruris actions and it's okay to admit that there is a good amount of toxic Eruris. Just like any other ship. These days it feels like a big part of Eruris on twitter are very nice to Erwin for completely wrong reasons and mischaracterizing him and often cause the hate he receives. And I know you will probably disagree with that and it's okay but please don't take this the wrong way it'd kill me if you called me a hater or anything bad like that. I'm just a little frustrated with the fandom, every time I see an Erwin tweet I can't help it and click on it and oops it's once again started with an Eruri tweet mocking others or Levi or Hange or other ships whatever. It's getting worse than Armin stans to be honest.

So I have a policy of not responding to “I’m an Eruri but…” asks because they tend to be disingenuous at best, and outright abusive at worst*  I’m going to make an exception this time though, because I’ve had a number of asks like this. 

First of all, every fandom has fans who prefer arguing with other shippers rather than enjoying their own ship and the Eruri fandom is no exception.  There has always been a small minority of Eruri fans who are vocal in their dislike for other ships and characters and who seem to revel in provoking drama.  The fandom is far from unique in that respect, every fandom I’ve ever encountered has its fair share of troublemakers.  I’ve lost count of the number of fans I’ve blocked from every corner of the SnK fandom over the years.  If someone is starting shit, I don’t want them on my timeline. 

Here’s the thing though, I keep getting anonymous asks from people freaking out about all the drama and hate in the Eruri fandom, and I honestly don’t know where that’s coming from, because I’ve seen very little of it.  Certainly there are fans who hate other ships and characters, they're just a fact of life in fandom. I’ve got a particularly persistent “Anon” in my inbox right now who clearly dislikes Hanji.  I’m studiously ignoring them because a) I’m not interested in airing ship or character hate unless it’s Zeke; and b) they are very much in the minority.  I’ve been in the Eruri fandom for 8 years and I can probably count on one hand the number of Eruri fans I’ve met who hate Hanji. Quite the opposite in fact.  90% of the Eruri fics I’ve ever read feature Hanji as Erwin or Levi’s beloved best friend or wingman. Similarly, I have never seen anyone saying that you can’t ship Erwin and Mike.  Really?? I used to write extremely smutty Mikeru / Mikeri / Mikeruri fics but I’ve never heard so much as a peep of complaint. In fact one of my Mikeruri fics is my third most popular fic with almost 20K hits. 

Now, I’m not so naive as to think that drama doesn’t exist just because I haven’t seen it.  I probably spend more time on twitter than I do on tumblr, but I’ve got a comprehensive block list which means I avoid most of the bullshit.  However I usually pick up on the aftermath of any drama because people I follow tend to talk about it. What I have seen recently is people complaining about one or more trolls who are leaving abusive comments on AO3 and Curious Cat, and I’ve also seen fans getting abuse for fundraising for charities.  Doesn’t get much lower than that tbh. With one or two notable exceptions, who I’ve now muted, I haven’t seen large numbers of Eruri fans mocking other shippers and belittling Levi and other characters. So you’ll understand my confusion about your ask.  Perhaps the hate is real and I’ve just missed it.  Perhaps this has become a self-perpetuating rumour. Perhaps there’s something more disingenuous going on.  If you could give me more concrete examples of this bad behaviour, which is apparently rife in the fandom, I might be able to formulate a more nuanced response.  As it stands, I honestly don’t know how you want me to reply to this ask Anon. You’ve said that how the Eruri fandom behaves isn’t a problem for you and that you choose who to mute and who to interact with, but from what you’ve said here, it sounds like this is a problem for you.  I hate to break it to you Anon, but if that’s the case, it’s not a problem I can solve. 

I have no doubt this reply will provoke another flood of Anon hate, all of which will be ignored and deleted. That’s pretty much my last word on the matter. 

* If you think this is an exaggeration, here’s the most recent “I’m an Eruri but” ask I got just a couple of weeks ago.  This shit isn’t new, it’s been going on for years. 

[lifmera]

hi ! so I’ve been deep in the tokrev tags and something magical brought you to my feed bcs I’ve been searching for someone that does matchups. I would like to ask if I could request a matchup with tokyo revengers.. please take your time getting to this!

my pronouns are she/her, I’m 1.72cm, I swear too much, my favorite color is green, I’m a Pisces, and I’m pretty much a bedroom goblin. If I’m not reading or drowning in my headphones, then I’m sleeping because I love my bed a lot.

Personality wise? I won’t say that I’m antisocial, but I’m a loner. 😭 I prefer my solitude (I don’t have a problem vibing by myself), but I would enjoy spending time with my friends if I had any. I’m pretty much unapproachable thanks to my severe case of RBF and I tend to stay away from big gatherings, but if I attend them I try to separate on my own in a corner after awhile (for some reason ppl still come up to me though, it confuses me greatly)…I’m actually softer once you get to know me though and I’ve been told I have a warm presence that makes it easy for people to gravitate towards me & talk about important things (I always know someone’s deep secrets 😭). It’s easy to talk to people, I just choose not to. 😭

I can be sarcastic and I’m also straightforward. When it comes to relationships/feelings/intimacy, platonic or romantic, I am VERY awkward, it’s hard showing & receiving feelings. I am emotionally constipated until I trust you. I can be a little stubborn and sometimes reckless but it’s only when it comes to protecting my people and my freedom. I’m also very free spirited/carefree and will cut you loose if I can’t have my time to be adventurous. Even though I seem very cold and uninterested (50/50 I am), I am a hopeless romantic at heart.

I’ve typed out as enfp if that adds anything, but I’m not the stereotypical bubbly kind.

Hope that’s more than enough, thank you for your time and I hope life treats you well today and so on. <3

AYYY HI!!

Its finally your turn after stalking this 6 different times. LOL.

I’ve decided to pair you with…. INUI!

I think you guys would get along great. Genuinely.

I think he’d probably want to rot in bed alongside you. Someone he’d be comfortable with. I dont think he has many friends- other than koko and takemichi. And koko is…

I think your rbf wouldn’t do much to deter him. Let’s be honest he does too. He isn’t one to judge!

I think he’d love your warm nature. It’d draw him him like a moth to a flame. Kinda like how he’s with takemichi. You’d mean a lot to him!

I think he also doesn’t like to talk much either. He’s super quiet and would probably just want to rot in bed. I honestly can imagine you both laying on bed with one ear each with an earbud listening to a playlist and just. Staring at the ceiling.

I have to admit, i think you’d also remind him a little bit of koko. But Inui is also pretty much emotionally constipated too. He has trust issues- but i think you both definitely would overcome it together realizing you have a lot in common. And probably becoming super close with each other.

He’d be fine if you’re Adventurous. But I think he is the type of guy who either wants to be in bed all day, or not really go back home.

~~~~

I hope this was okay. Honestly writing this kinda took me for an emotional ride because inui is a comfort character and i love him sm. Also you are such a sweetheart and i hope the rest pf your day goes well when you see this <3

[yandere-fics]

I wrote up a little thing for the Selene ask I sent in a while back about a smaller goddess, that Selene injured during the war here enjoy. c: ---------------------------------

Once there had been far more deities than there are today, and among that number was a small goddess. With wings of luminous white and a domain of tranquil peace, who’s church had really only ever counted a few hundred faithful among its number. Nearly a thousand years ago, in the throes of a great war that rent the heavens asunder, she found herself facing a formidable adversary—Selene, the werewolf goddess.

In the aftermath of their brutal confrontation, this small goddess was left shattered and broken, her once radiant form marred by the cruel claws of her adversary. But it was not only her physical form that bore the scars of that fateful encounter. Her church lay in ruin, her followers scattered and disillusioned. When the war came to a close her voice had been one of the angriest in demanding retribution, and she’d been forced to accept that the curse placed upon the wolf goddess was the only balm to soothe her scars she would receive. 

Condemning her aggressor to a thousand years of wandering, without her soulmate was a fine enough punishment. Without territory to return to, nor a church to grow her influence she was left with little option but to be the Boss for a place in the city, it was perhaps demeaning to work as a diplomat. Dealing with the brunt of the communication with the various deities so that the Boss didn’t have to but it was better than eeking out some living in the wilds. It was in this manner that you came to realize the terrible truth, for you must have made some enemies among the divine, even if you had no idea as to whom, for who else but someone who hated you could have made the wolf bitch your soulmate? Still you had a thousand years to figure something out.

It was that time of year again, when all the gods filtered into the city to talk about nothing of real value, that a problem cropped up. When you stepped into the room you immediately noticed something was off. The wolf was staring at you with an undisguised intensity. Something about that made your skin crawl and those old scars ache. She knew you could feel it in your gut. She knew, but that was impossible. The curse was supposed to hold out for another few centuries at least?

You turned to dart from the room, but only managed to slip back through the door before she was up out of her seat and chasing after you. You certainly didn’t make it far before she caught you, a hand around your wrist and you were yanked to a stop and pinned against a wall. Selene was tall, you were still a goddess if barely sure, but she towered over you. 

“Hello Dove, were you hoping I’d chase you?” You tensed up, a bolt of pure terror running down your spine. “L-let me go.” But she only clicked her tongue. “Let you go? But dove, I’ve been waiting centuries to find you.” She paused, shifting slightly her other hand coming up, brushing a thumb over the scar she’d left on your face.

“Are you still mad about these? Come on now Dove, that was centuries ago, A good soulmate would forgive me.” and there it was, that word. Soulmate, you swallowed and shifted a bit standing up a bit straighter. You twist your arm trying to break her grip but it was a futile effort. "A good soulmate wouldn't have hurt me like this." She had the audacity to look wounded at that, the bitch. But she shifted a bit pressing in closer. "and you punished me with that curse, haven't I paid for hurting you? With all these lonely centuries? Besides, Dove, it was so long ago I'd never hurt you like that now."

Oooo I love it

[nanowrimo]

3 Things NaNoWriMo Taught Me That I Didn’t Learn In College

NaNoWriMo can teach you a lot about writing, especially if you’re not used to writing novels! Ellen Relac talks about three valuable things she’s learned as a NaNo participant.

I concentrated in creative writing with a short story emphasis at UCLA. My technical writing improved greatly and my prose was able to develop its own distinct and unique style because of the amazing instruction I received there. However, writing a novel brought up three challenges I had never encountered in my short story career.

1. All the ways long form writing differs from the art of the short story

The short story process often entails a fight to keep said story short. You can’t dwell on irrelevant events or dabble outside the scope of the story you’re telling. I have often had to take out entire extraneous scenes to let my short stories stand on their own and affirm my confidence that they contain all the information they need to be a story worth reading.

I’m used to the compulsive concision of a neat short story, as well as my own personal habit of delivering exposition through breezy lines that cover entire seasons (“Spring turned into fall, but Jessie never once looked out the window to notice the change”). The contrasting challenge of filling an entire novel with things happening forced me to do the opposite of condensing my plot and let it breathe.

Recognizing the challenge of filling the page (of the hundreds of pages—in my specific case, 197) doesn’t even begin to get at the mounting challenges of continuity. If you, like me, enjoy throwing in random details as flavoring, you’d better remember that that second-chair flutist is named Cormac Ingalls and that he and Sierra are two years older than the protagonists.

Sometimes during NaNo, it felt frivolous to add scenes depicting idle conversation or day-to-day interactions. Allowing myself to recognize these scenes as pivotal opportunities for characters to develop was key to my understanding the art of the first draft.

2. The uncomfortable truth that being “good” is the wrong goal

Writing a novel in a month is a Herculean endeavor. I think the well-adjusted writer considers themselves lucky if they make any progress that feels substantial during NaNoWriMo. You don’t have to hit 50K to make potentially life-changing progress. It’s natural that doubts crop up about the quality of your writing, but do not let this dissuade you from accomplishing the amazing task you’ve undertaken! I truly would not have finished my draft if I had allowed myself to go down the rabbit holes I occasionally eyed of “this book probably sucks.”

Bottom line, it’s okay to suck sometimes. But you’ll rarely be any good if you don’t make peace with the possibility of sucking first.

3. You can write so much more than you think!

Focusing on the short story in college allowed me to hone my writing abilities with a micro-lens. I had to embrace the exact opposite of this in Nano.

I’ve gotten away before with letting a story flow out of me the two days before it was due and giving just the palest skim of a revision before finalizing it. NaNoWriMo demands much more.

It demands that you cajole yourself into writing the bare minimum on days when you would rather bathe in Elmer’s Glue than hit your word goal. It demands that you get your laptop out on the Wifi-less commuter train en route to a weekend visiting friends so you don’t fall too far behind. It demands that you carve out a five-hour day to slog through the 3000 words you need to make up on the following Monday. It demands that you are creative, clever, and extremely persistent in problem-solving. It demands an astonishing level of self-discipline and tenacity. It demands a set of triage skills (mostly to save yourself in those moments when your book appears an irredeemable wreck).

Rising to this challenge, though, pays infinite dividends. You emerge from the process of drafting a book—particularly your first—insanely proud of the difficult thing you’ve done. It gives you enough confidence to qualify as one of the best cures for imposter syndrome imaginable. NaNoWriMo gives you a community to cheer you on, a particularly satisfying word-tracking meter, and best of all, the indescribable boost that comes from doing the would-be impossible. It’s probably far more possible than you think.

Ellen Relac is an LA-based actress, writer, and photographer originally from the southwest of Connecticut. This year, she's kept busy graduating from UCLA, producing a film (https://www.instagram.com/bedtimefilm/) and tackling her first novel. Current favorite books include Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow, The Firekeeper's Daughter, and Daisy Jones and the Six. Photo by Hadis Malekie on Unsplash

[basu-shokikita]

I was in the sp fandom once, was very much obsessed with your kyman posting. Like I used to check your twitter daily. Kinda wondering, what made u (sorta) quit sp/kyman?

oh wow 😳 i’m flattered

and well…my answer might not be as interesting. as you know, for years kyman was at the center of my fandom life. i talked about them, i wrote fic about them, i organized and helped organize projects about them…and i loved it. despite the negative attention i received for it, i loved kyman so much that i kept at it. nothing came close to grabbing my attention the way kyman and sp as a whole did.

last year, exactly around this time, a good friend made me start watching the show otherwise known as metalocalypse. now, we’ve watched a lot of shows together and i enjoyed them all but i never dug up any further than that. i didn’t think metalocalypse would be any different. why would i?

anyway. metalocalypse. at first it didn’t click, then it got interesting, then it became hysterical…by s3 i was fucking invested. the way i hadn’t been about any media in years (i got into SP as a kid so the peak of my hype for the show itself was during its golden years). but yeah, i continued metalocalypse, finished it, then watched the movie and that was the final straw for me. i had gained a new otp and i wanted to see yaoi of them!!

i figured this wouldn’t be a problem and that i could be both into sp and mtl at the same time. as time went on, though, i felt guilt that i was currently more interested on the brand new thing (metalocalypse) than the old one (south park). i thought new content could fix this and as we got the sp new season announcement it seemed like this would fix the problem.

but then the new season was so….lackluster. like, okay, sp has evidently declining for years now, we’ve known this. but the new episodes didn’t have kyman interacting?? kyman?? the relationship that was at the heart of the show??? so i was like, well, i already have mtl, i don’t really have a reason to stay in the fandom if the show isn’t delivering, you know? i’m the type of shipper that likes to feast on canon and complement it with fanon, not the other way.

so yeah, it felt like the world was telling me it was okay to focus on metalocalypse and that’s what i did. the new south park special was great though! and good for kymans. but that spark is kinda gone for me. i don’t feel that special something i had for kyman anymore. i do love them though, i always will. but the thrill, the obsession? that’s what i feel for skwistok now

but hey, i was into south park as a kid and then i got into it again as an adult. who knows, maybe i’ll get into it again? it is the show that shaped me, my sense of humor and my taste in media even. it’ll always be special to me so it could always make a comeback in my heart. :)

sorry this turned out kinda long, but i’ve had several people asked me what happened over the course of this year so i wanted to say it in case anyone else is still wondering. nothing bad happened, i just grew out of it. doesn’t mean i’ll never write for sp again, though! i totally might, there’s a couple of drafts i’d like to finish not gonna lie. it’s just not my priority at the moment. but i do have writing commissions open, so if you want to see more kyman from me, you can always shoot me a message. ;)

[cb-writes-stuff]

Writer Questionnaire

Thank you @ari-writes-things for the tag! I’ve wanted to do one of these for a while.

It’s very long, and I frequently scroll through my blog. Hence, it’s going under a cut.

How long have you had your writing tumblr/writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

A little over a month.

What led you to create it?

I wanted to share my stuff (writing related and not) with people who’d like it so I’m not just sending my thoughts into the void.

What’s your favorite thing about the writeblr community?

I haven’t interacted with it much, but I like how much variety there is! And how people actually exist who want to talk about writing.

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

Um… I don’t know. I guess that I’m shy. I’d love to talk, but I never know what to talk about. If I don’t interact with you much, it’s not because I don’t like you! I just don’t know how to start a conversation.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

Writing snippets from people I know and stories I’m following.

Which wips or writing projects have you been noodling about lately?

Just my main wip, Project Opal.

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

It sounds kinda stupid, but I had a dream once. That dream has nothing to do with the story in its current state, but it’s what got me started on this project.

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

A few to several hours a day, I’d say.

When someone asks the dreaded, “what do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

I usually shrug. But if I’m pressed for an answer, I just say fantasy.

Name any characters you created. side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your rear; whomever you’d like

Hmm… Let’s see. I don’t really wanna spoil anything, and I’m gonna be talking about the main characters soon…

Oh, “never been written”? Well. Lemme talk about Sils. (Yes, I’ll talk more about her later, and she’s an unrevealed character. I’m fine with it.) There’s so much about her that’ll make her act weird, but not in the usual kind of weird. I really look forward to writing her.

Who's the most unhinged?

Probably Ven, I think. He’s not exactly unhinged, but he’s the most willing to do stupid things with minimal forethought.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

Probably Lynn. Being the most English certainly helps in that regard.

Do you ever cringe at them?

No? I haven’t written very much of my wip, so I might in the future.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree? Are some less cooperative than others?

Quite a bit. Sometimes too much, perhaps. The problem-fixer in me wants to fix all the problems and avoid conflict.

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters? and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

ABSOLUTELY. Ask me anything. I would love to talk about my characters. And I’ll take questions in any form!

What makes you want to follow another writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

I make sure to check a blog out before I follow it. Some stuff really isn’t good for me to see, so I try to avoid it.

Mainly, I follow for vibes. But I also like wips, of course!

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

No, but just because I’m bad at it. It’s kinda hard when I don’t know them. Social anxiety doesn’t help.

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Honestly, I haven’t read enough of their stuff for that. I’d love to, though!

Now, to tag my writer moots…

@xenascribbles @avdlwriting @die-in-beautiful-stars-tonight @orion-lacroix @threedaysgross @funkytrashcan @severevoiddragon @thebookishkiwi @alex-books-and-stuff and anyone else who wants to do it! And if you’re a writer moot of mine and I didn’t tag you here (probably because I didn’t know or forgot), consider yourself tagged! (No pressure, of course!)