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dixons-sunshine · 2 months

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You Are My Sunshine | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

*GIF isn't mine*

Summary: Being pregnant was a challenge, and being pregnant in an apocalypse came with a whole set of challenges on its own. Luckily, you had Daryl to take care of you, even if he was sometimes a little bit overprotective.

Genre: Fluff

Era: Alexandria, post Saviour war, pre the building of the bridge.

Warnings: Swearing, probably other things I can't think of right now.

A/n: My requests are open for any TWD character if y'all wanna send any! Also, I don't really know if pregnant ladies not being allowed to lift heavy things is factual or not. I just remembered someone telling me once that it could be harmful for the unborn child, and I've seen it being mentioned in movies and shows before, so I went based off of that. If it isn't true, please pretend that it is for my sake lol 🥲. (This is so rushed. I'm sorry for the bad writing 😭)

—

“Daryl, I'm perfectly capable of carrying it myself, you know.”

“I know ya can, but it dun' mean ya have to. Ya need to take it easy.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, a small smile spreading over your face. “Dar, I have to do something. I can't let everyone else do everything while I sit on my ass all day.”

“Yer pregnant, I ain't lettin' ya overwork yerself. Anyone have a problem with tha', let me know and I'll handle 'em. I ain't lettin' anythin' happen to our baby jus' 'cause some people can't pick up the slack and ya have to do their work for 'em.”

“I highly doubt carrying one crate is gonna do anything,” you stated matter-of-factly, walking at a steady pace beside the archer while he was carrying the crate in question back to the pantry.

“Ain't riskin' it,” Daryl retorted with a sense of finality, pushing the crate onto one of the shelves before turning to you. He took a step towards you and placed a gentle hand on your growing bump, looking at you with a soft expression. “Ya and this baby, our baby, are the most important people in the world to me. I ain't lettin' anythin' happen to the two of ya. If tha' means carryin' a crate so tha' ya can rest or fightin' off a herd of walkers so tha' yer safe, so be it. I'd do anythin' for ya and our little one.”

You smiled softly at the archer you've grown to love above everything else. You leaned forward to press a quick, gentle peck on his cheek before leaning back, giggling at the bashful look and blush that coated Daryl's face from the small action. “Sorry,” you said with a light laugh, aware of his feelings of public displays of affection. “You're just too adorable sometimes, you know that?”

That elicited a scoff from Daryl. He withdrew his hand from your bump and stepped back, ducking his head down to let his hair hide the growing blush on his face. “I ain't adorable,” he retorted quietly.

“You are,” you responded with a light laugh. “There's nothing you can say that'll change my mind about that. You, Daryl Dixon, are adorable, sweet, caring and so much more. There honestly aren't enough adjectives in the dictionary to describe how perfect you are to me.”

Daryl scoffed again. He shook his head at you, but you could see his mouth twitch up into a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Nah,” he started, glancing at you through the hair that hung in front of his eyes. “Yer the perfect one. ‘M lucky to call ya mine.”

“Don't start with me, Dixon. We can go back and forth about who's more perfect all day,” you joked, successfully gaining a small chuckle from him in response.

“Alrigh’,” he started, taking a step forward to press a quick kiss to your forehead. “I ain't about to start an argument with the pregnant lady.”

“If that's the case, does that mean I can help out with the tasks around here?” you asked, batting your eyelashes up at him innocently.

Daryl scoffed and shook his head. “Nah, tha' I ain't lettin' happen. I was talkin' 'bout petty arguments. Ya need to take it easy and rest. Leave the work to the people who ain't got unborn babies in their bellies they have to worry 'bout.”

“Daryl—” you started, about to voice your protest, but the archer cut you off.

“None of tha',” he said with a shake of his head, his tone stern. “Ya remember the times ya wouldn't let me do much to help out when I was hurt? I could help jus' fine too, but ya were worried 'bout me and takin' care of me. Let me take care of ya now, alrigh'? Ya have more at stake here than tearin' a few stitches.”

You pondered over his words for a few moments, hesitantly nodding after a few seconds. “Alright,” you finally agreed with a small sigh. “I haven't really been getting much sleep these past few days. I guess I can go take a nap or something if that'll make you feel better.”

“Hey,” Daryl started, taking one of your hands in his. “This ain't because I think yer incapable to help out or somethin'. I know ya can, but I would feel better knowin' yer not accidentally overworking yerself. I've seen it happen before. Ya'd get so focused on a task and would overwork yerself without even knowin' it. I don't want tha' to happen to ya righ' now.”

“Okay,” you nodded, willing the feelings of being useless away at the archer's reassuring words, knowing he spoke nothing but the truth. “But the moment you guys desperately need an extra pair of hands, promise me you'll come get me?”

Daryl nodded half-heartedly, and you could tell that even if he promised he would, he probably wouldn't come get you. He'd put yours and your baby's safety above everything else, even at the cost of a few extra hours of work for him and the other Alexandrians.

You leaned up on your toes to press a feathery light kiss to his lips before withdrawing. You gave him a smile before turning to walk out of the pantry towards the home you shared with him. As soon as you reached the front door of your home and pushed inside, you shrugged off your jacket and kicked off your shoes, discarding them by the table next to the entrance. You looked at the expanse of the quiet house and sighed, knowing you'd be alone until the sun started to set.

Well, you thought to yourself, I might as well make the best of my time alone. You went towards the kitchen to get a glass of water before descending up the stairs towards your room. You changed into something more comfortable before settling down on the bed, grabbing the book you were busy reading and flipping to the page you were busy with. You absentmindedly placed one hand over your stomach, the other holding the book as your eyes started to trail over the words on the page.

After a while, the words on the page started to blur together. You blinked repeatedly, hoping to clear your vision, but to no avail. Your eyes fell closed on their own accord, and within a few moments, you were asleep.

—

The feeling of the bed dipping beside you awoke you from your slumber. You opened your eyes and brought one of your hands up to wipe the sleep out of your eyes. When your vision cleared, you locked eyes with Daryl, the man having a faint, soft smile on his face.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to wake ya,” he apologized, bringing a hand up to brush the stray hair back and away from your eyes.

“It's okay,” you reassured him, bringing yourself up to a sitting position. You grabbed the book that you had read before falling asleep and placed it on your bedside table, before shifting your attention back to the archer.

Daryl was seated on the edge of the bed, busy pulling his boots off of his feet. When he was done, he layed back against the headboard, bringing his legs up to rest on the bed. His shoulders were slightly slumped, his posture giving away how tired he was. You furrowed your eyebrows at that. The workload hadn't been that much that day, and as soon as the people were done they could return to their homes, so you couldn't understand why Daryl looked so tired. Unless...

“Daryl,” you said softly, instantly catching the archer's attention. “Did more work come in while I was here at home?” Daryl's silence was enough of an answer. “Daryl—”

“’S fine, nothin' we couldn't handle. Just some buildin' materials Maggie and the King sent us from their communities to fix up more houses. Rick wanted to get started on the repairs today, so Aaron and I got some people together to start.”

“Daryl,” you started, shaking your head. “I told you that if you needed an extra pair of hands to come and get me.”

“Nah, we were fine. Ya clearly needed the rest.”

“But—” you started to retort, but Daryl cut you off instantly.

“Michonne told me tha' really heavy liftin' ain't good fer a pregnant lady. Said it can hurt the baby, so I didn't want ya carryin' logs and other heavy materials around. The rest of us can handle tha'.”

“When did you talk to Michonne?” you asked skeptically, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

A sheepish look graced Daryl's features. He avoided your gaze and instead focused his eyes on the bedsheets. “About a week after we found out tha' ya were pregnant,” he admitted, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “I was askin' her and Carol wha' I could do to help make yer pregnancy easier, what would help with yer mornin' sickness and what ya should avoid doin', and she told me tha' ya needed to refrain from liftin' heavy things. Said it could harm the baby.”

“So that's why you've been so against me helping out around here?” you asked, earning a nod of confirmation from Daryl.

“Yeah. Most of the work we gotta do 'round here involves heavy liftin', and I didn't want ya accidentally hurtin' yourself or our little one because of it. Tha's why I've been so adamant about ya takin' it easy,” he confirmed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “I didn't wanna be overbearin', but ya really wanted to help out with everythin' and the thought of somethin' goin' wrong because of all the hard work we have to do was too much fer me to handle. ’M sorry.”

You gently grabbed Daryl's hand, bringing it up to softly kiss his knuckles. “Why are you sorry? For not wanting anything to happen to me or our baby? You don't have anything to apologize for. If anything, I should be apologizing.”

“Fer wha'?” Daryl asked confusedly, intertwining your fingers with his.

“For being so adamant about working. I just... I didn't want to feel useless. I didn't want to feel like a burden because I couldn't help out.”

Daryl's eyebrows furrowed, his lips pressing together tightly. “Yer not a burden. Dun' ever think tha'. Yer carryin' a life in yer belly, and tha's takin' up most of yer energy and time. If anybody has a problem with the fact tha' ya can't work as hard as ya used to fer the next few months because yer pregnant, let me know and I'll beat their ass.”

You smiled at him and pressed a kiss to his lips. When you pulled back, you could feel tears starting to form in your eyes. Daryl noticed it and frowned, concern lacing his voice.

“Wha's wrong?” he asked frantically, bringing his hands up to cup your cheeks gently. He wiped away the tears that fell with his thumb.

“Hormones,” you said simply, laughing through your tears. “I don't even really know why I'm crying.”

“C'mere,” Daryl said, wrapping his arms around you and guiding you to lay your head down on his chest. You shifted your body until your were comfortable, wrapping your arms around him as you listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. Daryl's arms wrapped around you, one of his hands venturing down to your baby bump. He gently started to caress your stomach, his hand's soft movements making you sleepy almost instantly.

“’M sorry fer bein' so overprotective,” Daryl said after a few moments of silence, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head.

“And I'm sorry for being so stubborn. I promise I'll be more careful and take it easier from now on,” you promised, nuzzling your head deeper into his chest.

“Thank god,” he sighed in relief. “Any more of yer stubbornness and I would've been forced to lock ya in the house whenever their was work to do.”

You laughed and lightly hit one of his arms that were wrapped around you, eliciting a chuckle from the archer. “I love you,” you mumbled into his chest.

“I love ya too,” he responded, placing another kiss on your head. "Now get some more rest. I'll be righ' here when ya wake up.”

You nodded against his chest and closed your eyes, listening to his heartbeat, your own personal lullaby. As your eyes drifted closed for the second time that day, you swore you could hear Daryl start to hum a song. A song you've been singing to your baby in your stomach since you found out you were pregnant.

You are my sunshine.

A smile formed on your face as Daryl lowly continued to hum the song, his hand still gently caressing your stomach. With the gentle caress of his hand, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat and the song he was humming, you soon drifted into slumber, safe in your archer's arms.

#krys writes .ೃ࿐#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x reader #the walking dead #twd daryl #norman reedus #norman reedus x reader

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koqabear · 11 months

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Pretty Privilege (and its complications…)

♫: California Gurls, Katy Perry // Icky, Kard

“You love your boyfriend more than anything; so much so that you decide to pay a visit to him while he‘s on duty, a perfect excuse to gawk at his perfect form and charming self. Unbeknownst to you (like always) the act only causes Taehyun to stress, forced to watch you attract attention like a magnet and have people flirt with you left and right— even your understanding boyfriend has his limits, you know.”

lifeguard!Taehyun x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship, beach au, fluff, smut

Word count: 9.6K

warnings: bimbo/ditzy/feminine mc, mc is called a queencard bc idk, mc gets horny every three seconds, mc has nipple peircings and insane pretty privilege, (I have nothing to say for myself.) everyone in this damn beach wants her, she gets hit on by both men and women. alcohol consumption, (no one gets drunk) use of pet names (baby, my girl etc.) and the words boyfriend/girlfriend, lowkey public indecency.. teasing, possessiveness, a little jealousy.

smut warnings: dom!taehyun, sub!mc semi-public sex, marking, thigh riding, degrading, possessiveness (again!), rough sex, biting, breast play, grinding, oral (f. rec) multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, strength kink, tae picks the mc up, praise, dacryphilia, creampie (lemme know if I should add anything!)

Notes: alternate title: my strange addiction (kang taehyun) this fic is nawt meant to be taken seriously!! (I blacked out halfway through writing and editing this) Can you tell that I have tropes that just have a deathly chokehold on me? Embarrassing…

Kang Taehyun feels his heart stop the moment he sees your car pull up.

A peaceful, thirty-minute break quickly turns into a meditation session the moment he sees your hot pink Porsche convertible pull up, straight from a Barbie movie as the fuzzy dice that hang from the mirror bounce around— even from the top of the hill where the parking lot is at, he’s still able to spot you with eerie ease.

You’re as energetic and bubbly as ever as you exit the car, laughing with your friends as you fail to notice Taehyun’s heated stare; your friends however, are much quicker to catch him, sharing knowing looks amongst themselves and laughing softly.

His face feels hot as he quickly looks back down, his gaze downcast as he goes to scroll on his phone as a distraction— like instinct, he opens Instagram, your newest story popping up on his feed as he finds himself gulping nervously.

Beach day!! >v< the picture is captioned, your bright smile practically blinding as you pose with your friends— you practically steal the spotlight with ease however, especially when you’re wearing a pink halter top with a Hawaiian flower pattern that exposes your breasts perfectly, the dip allowing your gold necklaces to rest in between.

God, Taehyun sighs, running a hand through his hair as he hears your bubbly laugh from a distance, it’s so difficult having such a hot girlfriend.

A hot girlfriend who’s practically an influencer, he adds, counting down the minutes before he has to go back on duty as he remembers how successful your social media page has become. You didn’t mean to do it on purpose— you simply wanted to document your life and style like any other person would— but it seems as though you attracted much more attention than you anticipated.

A few hundred thousand followers and plenty of sponsorships later, however, you quickly found yourself titled a true “queencard”— not that you wanted to be, anyway.

You took your newfound “fame” with a grain of salt however, living your life as normal and continuing to document your lavish and busy lifestyle— in turn, Taehyun asked you to keep your relationship on the more private side.

It wasn’t that Taehyun didn’t want to be seen with you; if anything, he adored showing you off, enjoying the way no one could take their eyes off you whenever you entered a room— off his girlfriend. He was very vocal about the love and pride he held for you, but he also preferred to keep his life away from the media. And like the angel you are, you accepted his wishes without any hesitation.

Like Taehyun, you absolutely adored your partner; you were quite obsessed with him, honestly. If he’d let you, you’d fill your feed with him, your camera roll that was already filled with pictures of him begging to be posted as your mind told you that he could be an influencer as well— because who were you kidding, he’s so smoking hot.

“Girl, you need to stop staring before you start drooling,” Chaewon says, helping Wonyoung unload the bags from the car as they begin to laugh and tease you. You simply whine at her comment, biting your lip before you force yourself to look away; how could someone look so attractive by just scrolling on their phone?

“I can’t help it,” you cry, taking a beach bag from Wonyoung in order to help, “he’s just sooo hot!”

“And you let us know every time,” Wonyoung laughs, nudging your side as she gestures toward the beach before her, “don’t you at least wanna get closer?”

Like an eager puppy, you nod, getting a head start as you walk down the steep path towards the beach; you can hear your friends yelling at you to be careful, but all you can currently think about is Taehyun— Taehyun and his rippling muscles, Taehyun and his tan skin that’ll be left exposed to the hot sun, Taehyun and his chain that you love to tug on when he’s on top of you…

Oh my god, you realize with dread, your thighs rubbing together as you stop to wait for your friends, I’m so horny right now.

The curse of having such a hot boyfriend— you literally got soaking wet from the very thought of him.

The last thing you would do is have your friends realize, however, much too embarrassed to let them in on your more intimate thoughts as you scan the beach, looking past the groups of people for a good spot to settle down; lucky for you, you find a spot between the lifeguard tower and a concessions stand.

“Here here here!” You yell, running towards the spot without hesitation as your friends are forced to keep up; you ignore the feeling of the sand slipping into your sandal pumps, much more distracted by the fact that you’ll be able to see your boyfriend on duty.

Taehyun, ever the innocent victim of your antics, remains clueless as to where you’re setting up at the moment; he sits at the tables on the other side of the concession stand, still scrolling through his phone as he counts down the minutes before he’s on duty once more— sighing, he looks up from his device, his eyes scanning the hill before him as he inevitably finds your car— he can’t help but frown once he sees that you’re no longer there.

Where could you have run off to, he wonders, walking over to the headquarters in order to go back on rotation— he’s unable to stop thinking about you, already dreading how much of a distraction you’ll be to him as he makes his way over to his platform— only to stop, his breath stuttering as he sees the very sight he’s been dreading. (See: fantasizing.)

You’re wearing that same denim mini-skirt that always drives Taehyun crazy— actually, you’re not even wearing it anymore, his teeth sinking into his lip as he watches you strip innocently. The bikini bottom you wear matches your top, the same pink with the Hawaiian flower pattern; the shameful excuse of a bottom barely covers you, yet you don’t really seem to notice as you tie a sheer beach skirt around your hips.

Dangerously, you pull your shirt over your head; and if Taehyun wasn’t flustered enough by your bottoms, the matching top definitely did the trick— how it barely managed to cover you almost impressed Taehyun, his mouth drying as he took note of the way you tied all the strings into cute little bows, adorning your hips and back as your friends complimented you over the cute set— puffing your chest out proudly, Taehyun swore he almost fell to his knees as he took note of the piercings that poked through the thin fabric.

Oh god. He’s screwed.

You and your friends are quick to set everything up; you’re eager to lay back against the towel as Wonyoung runs to the ocean, yelling at the two of you to go with her as she laughs with joy.

“No thanks, I’ll stay here,” you say, getting comfortable as you stretch under the sun, the warmth making you smile as you reassure Chaewon, “Actually, I think the place over there has a mini bar— I might go get a drink.”

With one last goodbye and a yell along the lines of get me one, I’ll meet you there! Chaewon leaves, sand kicking up behind her as she begins to chase after Wonyoung; the two look beyond happy as they enter the water, the sight endearing as you finally get up.

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun watches like a hawk; he couldn’t get his eyes off you even if he wanted to, the sway of your hips and the shining sun on your skin much too enticing as he watches you leave, bitterly taking note of the way the men nearby begin to drool over you.

Taehyun isn’t an insecure person— he’s far from it, and he knows damn well that you’d choose him over any other man on this beach. But he’s also tempted to run after you, to claim you as his and show everyone just how much you like him— but he remains professional, feeling his ears turn red as he snaps out of his lewd fantasies.

You haven’t even talked to him, but he’s already feeling desperate for you.

Being a lifeguard has its perks— today’s perk comes in the form of his tall seat, being able to get a good look at the whole beach, and you. More specifically, the way you cutely lean against the counter of the bar, pouting like always as you take a second to stare at the menu.

“So…” you trail off, pursuing your lips before you’re smacking your lips, tapping your ID rhythmically against the wood as you feel the worker staring at you intently, “I’ll just have two margaritas. And a water. Please?”

The worker before you is bright and quick to work as he nods, stumbling over his feet for a second before he’s making you your drink; you don’t think you’ve ever seen someone work so fast as he hands you your order, sliding over an ice cold water bottle as well.

“Thank you! How much do I owe you?” You exclaim, placing your purse over the counter as you begin to dig for your wallet; only for him to interrupt you, stuttering out a quiet Oh, wait, as you look up at him with innocent doe eyes, waiting for him to continue.

“It’s on the house,” he smiles, watching as you can only let your jaw drop at his words; unsure of what to do, you glance back at your order, left speechless as you take a second, only to look back up at the worker in surprise.

“Really?” You ask breathily, tilting your head as you lean in closer to read their name tag— Jay simply nods, smiling sweetly as they reassure you that you don’t need to pay, “Oh, you’re so sweet!”

You’re laughing at the way Jay turns slightly red, surprised at his kind act as you ask one last time if it’s really okay— he reassures you once more, opening his mouth to say something before another customer is approaching, taking his attention as he reluctantly leaves your side.

Taking a sip of your drink, you can’t help but feel the smile stuck on your face as Chaewon finally appears to join you; she’s soaking wet as she stands with you under the shade of the bar, thanking you with a cute smile as she takes the margarita you hand her.

“How much? I’ll pay you back,” Chaewon says, gesturing at the drink before her as you simply shake your head in response.

“No need. It was free!” You say, giggling at the way Chaewon looks at you incredulously.

“Free?” She echoes, watching as you only nod eagerly in response, “how?”

“Dunno,” you say, licking at the rim that’s dusted with sugar, “that Jay guy was just really sweet!”

“Or attracted to you,” Chaewon muses, nudging you playfully as she gives you a mischievous grin— she laughs as you shake your head defensively, painfully unaware of your pretty privilege as you fail to notice the way Jay glances back at you, clearly hoping to talk to you again.

“I got this for Wonyoung,” you say, gesturing to the cold water bottle that’s currently dripping over the counter, “gonna go give it to her, wanna come with?”

Chaewon shakes her head, gesturing to her unfinished drink as she tells you to go ahead; watching you go ahead, she waits for you to get out of earshot, turning to the employee before she’s narrowing her eyes at him.

“Can I get a water please?”

Without another glance, Jay nods— “That’ll be one-fifty.”

Barking out a laugh, Chaewon grins, proving her theory right as she watches Jay turn red from the realization that she caught on— being friends with you proved to come with more benefits than she realized, she thinks, biting back another smile as she goes to drink her margarita. Turning around, she watches you fondly— and more specifically, the way you begin to walk past the volleyball game that’s going on, making your way back to your setup as the men playing begin to take notice of you.

“Hey baby,” a man calls out, drawing your attention as you simply hum politely in response, “Why don’t you come play with us?”

You can only muster out a soft laugh at that, shaking your head as you ignore the way your body begins to heat up from all the attention; shyly, you refuse their offer, unsure of what to say as you feel their eyes taking you in slowly.

“Oh, I’m not that good,” you say, shaking off their amused laughs as you hold Wonyoung’s water bottle close to you, feeling the perspiration drip onto your forearm, “I probably wouldn’t be very useful on your team.”

Your response is genuine; you know you’re not good at volleyball after countless failed attempts to learn, much more content sitting on the sidelines and watching your perfect boyfriend absolutely dominate during his games— the thought is enough to have you fighting back a fond smile, brought back to reality by the way the man talking to you takes a step closer to you.

“ ‘s okay, I can teach you,” the man grins, spinning the volleyball expertly in his hands as his teammates nod in agreement. You’re unsure of how to refuse them now, but a sudden sharp whistle is taking all of your attention as your head whips to the source of the sound.

You practically feel like an overexcited puppy as you spot Taehyun, on duty and scolding a group of teenagers for who-knows-what. Without another thought, you run over to him, leaving the group of men who can only call for you to wait— their words fall deaf on your ears as you feel your heart beating faster, calling out his name and watching as he finally spots you running over to him.

“Hyun!” You say, waving cutely as you watch him smile fondly at you— you think your heart could burst as you practically jump into his arms, feeling him stumble back from the impact as you throw your arms around his neck fondly.

“Taehyun!! Baby, hi!!” You say, bouncing on your feet as you pull away to pepper kisses on his cheek; all he can do is laugh as he falls victim to you, muttering a soft “okay, okay” as he pats your back fondly.

“Baby, baby, I’m still working,” Taehyun reminds you, watching you pull away with a small oh right, that tumbles from your lips. His hands are still on your waist as his fingers trace over the fabric of your beach skirt, and you can’t help the way you burst into giggles as you take him in.

“What, what’re you laughing at?” He asks, brows raising as he tilts his head curiously; you can only shake your head, wiping the bottom of your lip as you attempt to calm down.

“My lip gloss is all over you,” you say, watching as he simply laughs at your comment, his dimple on display as he reaches up to rub at his cheek— it barely works, but he doesn’t seem to mind much as he finally lets go of you.

“Did you get yourself a drink, pretty?” He says, nodding his head at the water bottle you hold in your hands; you nod, smiling happily as you recount the events that happened in your head.

“Yeah, the worker there is super sweet,” you gush, glancing back at where you see Chaewon still leaning against the counter, waving at you happily as you’re quick to return the gesture, “he gave me my drinks for free.”

“Did he now?” Taehyun asks, raising a brow at you as he watches you nod innocently. Glancing back at the shop, he sees Jay, who can only avert his eyes and hide from his sight. Looking back at you, his gaze softens as he takes in the way you practically glow under the sun, “that’s very nice of him.”

Taehyun wishes nothing more than to be able to go back off duty and enjoy his time with you; instead, he needs to wait another four hours before he can properly show you just how happy he is to see you— unbeknownst to you of course, much too eager to be outside on such a nice day as you ramble about things with no clear end in sight.

“I need to go back to work, baby,” Taehyun sighs, smiling at the way you begin to whine immediately, “I know, I know— I wish I wasn’t working today either.”

Bringing you in closer, he places a soft kiss on the tip of your nose before he’s taking a step back, the dazed smile you send him enough to have his heart fluttering as he returns it without a thought.

“ ‘m just happy I get to see you.”

His words clearly affect you as you attempt to stutter a response, hitting him with a whine the moment he tries to laugh at you fondly— you can tell he’s reluctant to leave, but the same group of teenagers as before seem to be causing a ruckus once more as he sighs, bidding you goodbye before he’s off.

You can only stand and stare with dismay, pouting as you watch him turn his back to you— his toned, broad back, with a waist so small you’d do anything to wrap your arms around it— or even better, your legs…

You groan as the same dangerous train of thought begins to hit you, your eyes squeezing shut as you force yourself to turn around— to walk straight to where Wonyoung lays without glancing back at your boyfriend, the task much harder than you’d think as you hear his sharp voice scolding the group of teenagers.

He sounds so hot, you think to yourself, wanting nothing more than to run away with your man and have him fuck you stupid behind the concession stand, oh my god, I want him so bad.

“Wow, this thing is freezing,” Wonyoung says, taking the water bottle from your hands gratefully. Watching as you slump down next to her, Wonyoung pauses, trying to guess what might be wrong before she follows your line of sight.

“Ah,” she mutters, taking a long drink from her water before she sighs, “Are you sad you can’t talk to your boyfriend?”

“He’s being professionalll,” you groan, throwing a hand over your eyes as you lay back, the pout forming on your face second nature at this point, “I just wish he’d stay over here!”

“It’d be a danger to the public if he just stopped doing his job,” Wonyoung reasons, watching the way you reluctantly agree with her, “plus, it was your idea to visit while he was on duty.”

“I didn’t think he’d look so fucking hot!” You admit, crossing your arms over your chest in defeat as Wonyoung simply laughs in amusement. Opening your eyes, you’re surprised to find Chaewon looming over you, a smile on her face as she takes her seat on her towel beside you.

“You always think he looks hot. Also, the bartender over there totally wants you.” Chaewon pipes up, calling Wonyoungs name as she gestures to the water bottle in her hands before gesturing back to the mini-bar.

“Don’t tell me,” Wonyoung says, staring down at the item in her hand as Chaewon nods in confirmation, “wow, that’s pretty impressive.”

“It’s nothing, he was just being nice!” You refute, ever an airhead and your friends simply shake their heads in response, “It’s true!”

“He didn’t bother looking back in my direction once you left,” Chaeryeong points out, glaring playfully at Wonyoung who laughs at her comment, “not to mention, those guys playing volleyball were literally drooling over you.”

“Wait, I saw that— I was kind of scared for a second,” Wonyoung admits, Chaewon nodding along as she confesses that she was about to jump in when you finally managed to escape, “you’re so lucky you managed to leave before things got weird.”

To be honest, you stopped listening around that last part— well, it’s not like you weren’t listening, it’s more like you weren’t really contributing to the conversation as you take notice of Taehyun, more specifically the way he’s playing with a child around the shallow end of the ocean, watching as he manages to make the child laugh, his eyes bright and fond as he takes good care of the toddler.

The sight practically has you melting, and you’re forced to bite your lip to suppress your smile— but then again, you’ve never really been good at hiding things— especially with the way you find your friends looking in the direction you are, the two of them sporting knowing smiles as they exchange a look.

“Oh girl,” Wonyoung sighs, going to lay on her back as she puts on her sunglasses, “you’re drooling again.”

Shit, you totally were.

-♡-

The next three and a half hours pass by painfully slowly— for Taehyun, at least.

It seems that you’re finally able to take your eyes off him after a period of adjustment, and he’s able to watch from his post as you enjoy yourself in the ocean, splashing around with your friends as the three of you have fun and remain carefree.

Carefree is probably one of the last words Taehyun would use to describe himself at the moment— it was a given that being a lifeguard was unpredictable and difficult, but being on duty while having his hot girlfriend that attracted attention like a magnet there with him was next-level.

He couldn’t even begin to count the number of times someone managed to hit on you in the past hour— from what he saw, at least— it was ridiculous, really, even more so because you were never able to pick up on it. Ever.

Taehyun couldn’t take his eyes off you for one second without a new person approaching you; he chalks it up to both your beauty and the fact that you’re one of the most approachable people Taehyun has ever met.

He’s never been happier to own sunglasses than today— or else you definitely would’ve caught him watching carefully as a random woman your age offered to put sunscreen on you, your friends back in the ocean as you opted to take a moment to rest under the sun instead.

“Your swimsuit is so cute,” she told you, her voice filled with a flirty lilt as it managed to travel to Taehyun’s ears; you had been as clueless as ever, holding your top up with your hands as you allowed her to untie your string and lotion your back— he tried to give this random stranger the benefit of the doubt, but it was really difficult to with the way she massaged you gently and leaned over to speak into your ear.

“Are you single?” The implications of her words barely registered in your head before thoughts of Taehyun were overpowering your brain, a smile involuntarily tugging at your lips as you tried to hold back your giddy giggles in order to answer.

“She’s not.”

You could feel the woman’s hands still on your shoulder as the two of you looked up, your smile only widening as your eyes met Taehyun’s— at least you think, he was currently wearing sunglasses. (Which he looked really hot in, of course. You think you would’ve jumped on him by now if it weren’t for the risk of you flashing the entire beach.)

“Oh, I’m sorry,” the woman behind you said, laughing nervously as she quickly went to stand; you couldn’t help but be confused by the way she hurriedly said goodbye to you, but all your questions were answered once you turned around to meet Taehyun’s irritated face, his brows pulled together in a frown as he let out a soft tsk.

“Hyun, are you jealous?” The question is enough to have him snap out of his daze, blinking wildly behind his shades before he’s pushing them up and onto his head, pushing his wet hair back and exposing his forehead as he did; looking down at you, he can’t help but soften at the sight of you and your cute wide eyes, letting out a soft chuckle before he’s patting your head fondly.

“No, I’m not.”

You watch as he settles down behind you, taking the previous woman’s spot as he murmurs for you to turn around. You’re facing forward once more, taking in the pretty sight of the beach as you shift on your knees, sitting back on your legs as you wait for him to do something.

“You looked pretty jealous,” you muse, looking down to watch as he takes the sunscreen bottle that was left at your side; the smell of the lotion fills your senses once more as you hear him open it, squeezing some on his palm as the sound of his airy laugh reaches your ears.

“Well, it’s not exactly nice to watch another person feeling up my girl,” he reasons, watching as you straighten up at his comment, “why didn’t you ask your friends for help baby?”

“Mmmh, they’re busy and she offered to help,” you confess, shivering at the feeling of the cold lotion against your shoulders, “and she was not feeling me up.”

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyun can’t help but feel frustrated at your comment— your naivety made it difficult to make a point sometimes, and this was one of those moments as he was unable to stop the deep sigh that escaped him.

“She wasn’t?” He asks, and you can’t help but gasp as you feel his touch become further; fingers digging into your flesh, massaging your shoulders tenderly as he leans in close to whisper into your ear, his hands roaming your body so slowly you think you might melt, “so what do you feel now that I’m doing it?”

Horny.

“I… I feel like I’m in the wrong,” you admit, stuttering softly as he begins to come back up to your shoulders, his dainty hands going past your collarbones and down your arms; slowly, he makes his way down, leaning forward as he does so until he’s pressed firmly against your back— his firm chest against your back, his hands reaching for your own as he interlocks his fingers with yours.

You can feel his hair tickle against your neck as he presses a slow kiss against the back of your shoulder, biting your lip as you fight back the desperate whine that threatens to escape from you.

“Glad you realize,” he laughs softly, letting go of you and sitting back as he takes a moment to inspect the beach; you can’t help the sadness that fills you as he begins to stand, only to pause as he notices your dejected state.

“Do you need any more help?” He asks slowly, watching as you nod happily before you’re laying down across the towel; he thinks he might lose his job as you look back at him, batting your eyes prettily as you send him a coy smile.

“Do the rest for me?”

Taehyun hesitates. On one hand, it wasn’t very professional of him to lotion up his incredibly gorgeous girlfriend while on duty— not that the public was aware of the fact that you two were together, anyway— but on the other hand…

“How could I say no to you,” Taehyun sighs, kneeling at your side and taking the lotion bottle from you as he decides fuck it— he has half an hour left anyway.

Your skin is warm to the touch; both of you are sighing in contentment the moment his hands meet your skin, massaging the lotion into the rest of your back as he tries to remain as professional as possible.

You, on the other hand, are not doing that great.

If there’s one thing that tests your self-control more than anything, it’s Taehyun— especially Taehyun that has his hands all over you, his touch firm and soothing as he begins to massage the back of your thighs— if he sees you squeeze them together, he doesn’t bother to let on, your mind fogging with horrible and lewd thoughts that would have your boyfriend red and flustered within seconds.

The last of your resolve crumbles the moment his fingers ghost over your waist; dipping under the skimpy string of your bikini bottom, reaching toward the back before he begins to cop a feel— you can feel your breathing begin to pick up as he’s moving up, tickling against your sides before he’s reaching past your top; fingers massaging against the sides of your breasts, cupping what he can before he’s squeezing coyly. Flustered, you bury your head into your arms, listening to the way he laughs teasingly, his hands drifting away just as quickly as they appeared before he’s going to ask you if you’re alright teasingly.

“I need you,” You whine, the words muffled against your arms as you dig your head deeper into your arms.

“Hmm?”

This seems to be your last straw; sitting up, you scramble to keep your top on as you turn around to face Taehyun, taking him in in all his sun-kissed glory, sure that you look beyond flustered and destroyed by now.

“Taehyun, I need you so bad,” you whine out, scooting closer to him as you watch his eyes widen with your unhinged rambling, “I’ve been trying to be good this whole time and distract myself, but it’s so fucking hard because I’ve been wet from just looking at you— Hyun baby, I’m so hmmf—!”

Taehyun is impressed by how easily you’re able to fluster him— he’s sure his ears are completely red as he presses his palm firmly against your mouth, taking in the way you look at him with wide, teary, and fucked out eyes.

He takes a deep breath in order to control the dangerous feeling of desire that flows through him.

Exhaling deeply, he takes a second to look at the clock posted by the headquarters— he feels his body relax with relief as he slowly pulls his hand away from you, giving you a warning look before he gestures at the time.

“Fifteen minutes,” he says, leaning in and muttering the words in his deep, glorious voice, “can you be good for me for another fifteen minutes?”

You think you might die if you don’t take him right now.

“Yeah,” you breathe out shakily, watching as Taehyun laughs at your pathetic state.

“Good,” he says, standing up and getting ready to leave before another lifeguard realizes he’s been talking to you this whole time, “just wait for me, baby.”

You’re a bit dejected as you watch him leave you, back to being his perfect and professional self as he spots abandoned swimming equipment from the rental shop; he can feel your heated gaze on him the entire time, forced to stifle a laugh as he glances back in your direction curiously— you’re shamelessly staring, a pout on your face as you carefully re-tie your top once more.

Please, you think to yourself, choosing to lie back against your towel and clear out your thoughts, your eyes fluttering shut as you take a deep breath, please let these next fifteen minutes pass quickly.

-♡-

Taehyun knows the exact second his fifteen minutes are up— only because you trot up to him like an excited puppy, your beach skirt flowing in the wind as you wave at him excitedly.

“Will you let me clock out at least?” Taehyun asks, letting out an amused laugh as you immediately attach yourself to his side; you give him a quick nod of your head in response, telling him to lead the way as you refuse to leave him anytime soon.

“Missed you so much,” you say, eyes sparkling as Taehyun can only throw his head back and laugh in bewilderment at your comment, “I’m serious! It’s hard to keep my hands off you, Hyunnie.”

“Don’t worry, I feel the same,” he hums, slowing his steps to place a gentle peck on your cheek, “Wait for me? I’ll only be a moment.”

Nodding happily, you tell him you’ll go get him a drink— you know he could use it, taking in his tired steps as he walks back to headquarters with a sigh— turning around, you spot your friends already at the bar, waving you over as you make your way to them happily.

“He’s finally off?” Chaewon asks, watching as you nod with a bright smile on your face, “that’s good. You two can spend some time together now— especially now that the sun is beginning to set.”

“Not that you weren’t already,” Wonyoung teases, watching as you try to defend yourself with useless stutters as she continues to poke fun at you.

“I— can I just get a water?” Giving up on trying to win the argument, you turn back to the same worker from earlier, watching as Jay jumps in surprise the moment your eyes meet his.

“Oh, of course,” he mutters, placing the ice-cold refreshment before he clears his throat, face turning red as he avoids eye contact with you, “you don’t owe me anything, we’re closing soon and the register is already locked.”

Letting out an embarrassed laugh, you can’t help but glance at your friends, feeling your face become hot as they send you sly looks; Jay seems to be just as flustered as you, bowing politely before turning around and resuming his closing tasks— biting your lip, you suppress another laugh, your friends already mouthing things along the lines of I told you so, as you simply push them playfully, looking around to see if Taehyun has come back yet.

“This for me baby?” Taehyun’s hand is warm on your waist as he appears behind you, looking over your shoulder and smiling as you eagerly hand him the water bottle in return.

He’s quick to drink, much thirstier than he realized as he practically begins to gulp it down; he can feel your stare on him the whole time, fighting back a smile as he closes his eyes in an attempt to ignore it.

He looks like a model, you think, watching him fondly with hearts in your eyes; the day hasn’t looked nicer than it does now, the beach almost empty now that the sun has almost set and the weather growing cooler as the waves crash against the shore, the golden rays of the sun practically leave Taehyun glowing. Playfully, he pushes you away, unable to hold back his laugh any longer as he scolds you to stop staring! You can only laugh sheepishly as you try to deny doing so, but you know he’d never believed you from how clingy you’ve been with him all day.

“You’re so sweet Jay,” Taehyun smiles, the said male practically jumping out of his skin at the mention of his name; turning around slowly, he laughs awkwardly, meeting eyes with Taehyun, who snakes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer as he tilts his head teasingly, “for not charging my girl. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah, of course,” Jay stutters, eyes downcast as he feels his face burning from the attention, “figured it was for you, so I didn’t bother ringing it up.”

Taehyun only hums in appreciation at the man’s comment, slightly irritated at the way he’s able to lie through his teeth so easily; turning away from him, he takes the chance to look at you, smiling fondly and leaning in for a chaste kiss that has you melting against him.

“Gross. Get a room you two,” Chaewon scoffs, covering Wonyoung’s eyes playfully as the two tease you endlessly.

“Gladly,” Taehyun smiles mischievously, rolling his eyes at the way your friends gag in response, pulling you against him as you steady yourself with a hand on his chest, “mind if I steal her away from you guys for a bit?”

“Go ahead,” Chaewon says, waving the two of you away with ease, “bring her back in one piece, please.”

I’ll try, is all Taehyun says, pulling you along and laughing at the way you eagerly follow along with one last goodbye to your friends, clueless to the way Taehyun’s jaw ticks with annoyance as he pulls you away from your friends— and right towards headquarters, making his way to the back of the building, secluded by trees and the hill you came from.

“Tae, what’re we doing here—?” Your sentence is briefly cut off with Taehyun’s mouth against yours, the kiss harsh and desperate as you quickly become a mess of spit, moaning weakly against Taehyun’s mouth as he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip.

The string of saliva that connects you two as he pulls away has you whining breathily, steadying yourself with two hands placed firmly on his shoulders as you allow him to corner you, walking backward as his firm hold on your hips forces you to be pressed against the wall.

“You drive me so fucking crazy,” he growls in frustration, attaching his lips right under your ear as he begins to suck— you’re gasping in response, clinging onto him desperately as you already feel your knees become weak. Pulling away from you, his dark gaze meets yours, heated and sharp as he takes in your fucked out state.

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to have my pretty girl get flirted with by everyone that lays their eyes on her?” He asks, shifting your hips towards him as he slots his thigh between yours with ease, “to just watch it happen because she’s too much of an airhead to realize what’s happening in front of her?”

The whimper that escapes you from his words is downright embarrassing; but it’s enough to have Taehyun’s lips back on yours, eager to keep you quiet as his fingers begin to play with the strings of your bikini.

If there’s one thing Taehyun is an expert at, it’s pleasing you with every part of his body— which is exactly why he’s able to have you turn into a mess under him in seconds, flexing his thigh and bouncing it as his strong hands force your hips down on him more; he’s controlling your every movement, his grip on you bruising as you wonder if it’ll leave a mark on you later.

“You’re already wet,” Taehyun muses, feeling the way you claw at him uselessly, throwing your head back against the wall as you try to set the pace yourself, only to fail miserably, “barely took anything and you’re already dripping all over me.”

The pleasure becomes overwhelming as Taehyun begins to litter kisses all over you, biting at you softly as he slowly begins to make his way down to your breasts; with a breathy moan, you jut out your chest, the sight making Taehyun let out an airy laugh as his eyes flicker back up to your face to watch your expression carefully.

“Such pretty tits,” Taehyun grins, kissing on top of the fabric as he watches your eyes flutter shut, his eyes flickering back down to the metal that pushes against the thin top, “which ones are you wearing today baby?”

“The ones you got me,” you reply, biting your lip as you open your eyes, clouded with lust as you grind a little harder against Taehyun’s thigh, “the heart ones.”

His warm mouth against your breast is enough to have you letting out a sigh of contentment; a hand immediately threads itself in his hair as you feel his tongue laving over your nipple through the fabric, tracing the jewelry carefully as you jut your chest out to him in response. His hand comes up to slip itself under the fabric of your swimsuit, grabbing your breast and squeezing teasingly before he begins to circle your other nipple.

You feel dizzy, his touch practically everywhere as your eyes flutter shut, trying your best to keep your noises to a minimum as you bite your lip— but it’s useless, especially with the way he’s practically on you, his warm body on yours as you’re able to feel his erection against you.

Whining hopelessly, you let go of his hair, allowing your hand to trail down as you get a good feel of his body— his strong muscles, his abs that flex in anticipation as you begin pawing at his swim shorts.

“Please please please,” you cry, slipping a hand past the barriers and stroking his dick slowly, your hips picking up the pace as you hear him groan lowly into your ear, “please fuck me Hyun, I need you so bad and I’ve been waiting so patiently for you…”

“Have you?” Taehyun asks, relishing in the way your hand struggles to keep a pace, shivering slightly at the way you tighten your grip on him for a second, “because all seen today is the way my little attention whore of a girlfriend can’t survive if my eyes aren’t on her for a second.”

“Did you have fun seeing the way everyone else drooled over you?” He asks, pulling your hand away from him harshly before he’s stepping in between your legs, hooking one of them around his waist before he begins to grind against you, “did you like seeing me jealous, sweet thing?”

“I didn’t mean to,” you gasp, feeling him prod against your entrance as he unties your beach skirt with deft fingers, the cloth fluttering to the ground as he begins to grind against you harder, “I didn’t know—!”

“Oh, you didn’t know?” He mocks, taking pity on you for a second before his gaze is hardening again, “you never know, dumb little thing.”

It’s almost shameful how hard your pussy clenches at his words; you’ve made a mess of your bottom as Taehyun groans, eyes catching the way you’ve left a damp spot already.

“God, you really can’t control yourself, hmm?” He asks, cooing at you softly as he takes in the way you’ve already begun to tear up. The sound of distant voices has him pausing, and you feel as though you’re afraid to breathe as your wide eyes meet Taehyun’s.

“Did Taehyun leave already?” The voice is immediately recognizable as Taehyun narrows his eyes, listening to Yeonjun, one of the other lifeguards on rotation today, talk to someone else.

“Yeah… he left a few minutes ago,” Jay responds, and you can’t help but raise a brow as Taehyun takes a step away from you, about to mouth what are you doing? before he’s sinking to his knees before you, throwing a leg over his shoulder as you can only watch helplessly.

“With that one girl?” Yeonjun asks, your eyes widening as you glance over in the direction the sound comes from; you’re quickly brought to the man in front of you as he begins to litter kisses all over your inner thigh, biting the skin softly as he murmurs eyes on me. Shakily, you nod, letting out a shaky breath as the conversation from the two filters back to you two once more.

“Yeah, you saw her?” Jay says— Taehyun’s nimble fingers are undoing the ties of your bottoms with such ease that you can’t help but gasp as the fabric slips off, your pussy left for display as your boyfriend takes in how needy you are with a satisfied smile.

Taehyun’s tongue is warm and teasing as he circles it over your clit, letting his spit coat you freely before he’s pressing firm kisses against your bud— you're forced to slap a hand over your mouth as he begins to suck on it, his tongue running over the sensitive bud as you feel your thighs shaking around his head; his hair is wet and ticklish as it touches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, and you’re forced to concentrate in order to not let an embarrassing sound slip from your lips.

“Man, of course I did— she was fucking hot,” Yeonjun’s confession is enough to have Taehyun working harder, fingers prodding at your entrance and eagerly stretching you out as you choke back on a moan— in any other situation, you would be loud enough that Taehyun would have to stop to tease you about it, but the thought of either of them hearing you was much too mortifying as Taehyun began to slowly pump his fingers.

Your body said otherwise, however.

“I saw you give her those drinks for free,” Yeonjun teased, and you listened to the way Jay simply groaned at the reminder; you, on the other hand, were forced to remain quiet, your eyes rolling to the back of your head the moment Taehyun added a third finger, picking up his pace and bringing you closer to your high as you began to rock your hips against his face subconsciously, feeling his tongue beginning to wander as it licked all over your pussy— curling his fingers, you sighed, feeling the way he flattened his tongue against your clit before he began to pump his fingers once more.

“I thought I’d try to make a move on her or something,” Jay confesses, the embarrassed tone to his voice not lost on you as you feel yourself grow hot— your hand presses harder against your mouth as you reach down to thread your fingers through Taehyun’s hair, pulling him closer against your pussy as you subtly try to communicate that you’re close; he seems to get the hint as he does his best to keep his ministrations up, your eyes squeezing shut as their conversation continues to flow into your ears.

“But that was before I knew she was his girl,” Jay says, sighing as Yeonjun replies with an incredulous seriously? “Yeah, you should’ve seen the way he looked at me when he caught on, man. I was scared for my life.”

You’re sure you know how Taehyun was looking at him— at least, if it’s any resemblance to the way he looks at you now, his eyes filled with pure possessiveness and anger that it has you coming undone in seconds, a weak moan escaping through your hand as you squeeze your eyes shut. Taehyun helps you ride out your orgasm diligently, the lewd sounds of his tongue cleaning you up making you flustered as you cover your face in embarrassment.

He’s sucking teasing marks all over your inner thighs once more before he’s standing back up, prying your fingers apart gently as he whispers for you to look at him; your eyes are needy as you blink up at him, and Taehyun swears you’ve never looked more beautiful as you practically glow before him, his eyes darkening at the reminder that you’re all his— his coworkers could only dream of getting close to you, let alone having you in the position he does now.

“My pretty girl,” he sighs out, smiling at the way you throw your arms over his shoulders, bringing him in closer until you’re pulling him in for a tender kiss— it doesn’t last long however, your breathy whines making Taehyun press against your cunt once more, feeling how much wetter it’s gotten as he begins to kiss you senseless.

“My girl,” he repeats, pulling away to trail his kisses down to your neck, beginning to suck carelessly as he feels you reach down to pull his cock out, “all mine. Mine.”

His sudden possessiveness is new to you as you can only remain pliant under him, allowing him to do whatever he wants with you as he finally aligns himself at your entrance; biting your lip, you bury your head in the crook of Taehyun’s neck, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel him tease you— rubbing the head of his cock up and down your slit, feeling the way you clench around nothing as he grinds against you subtly— it’s enough to have you digging your nails into him, whining into his ear that you need more as you feel his tip begin to nudge at your clit; you think you might lose it as you feel his precum drip all over your cunt, your hips shifting toward him involuntarily to try and chase the feeling.

Your mouth is falling open the moment he’s entering you; stretching you out, sliding in inch by inch as he feels your pussy fluttering around him uncontrollably— he can feel the way you’re gasping against his skin, and he’s hooking your leg over his waist once more as he presses you firmly against the wall of the building.

You’re shaking like a leaf against him; whining for more, biting and kissing at his skin absentmindedly as you grind against him, your cunt dripping and sucking him in as the thought of keeping quiet slowly escapes your mind.

It’s enough to have Taehyun tugging you back, pulling on your hair teasingly before he’s planting his hand firmly over your mouth— his eyes never leave yours, the conversation of the two men nearby muddled in your ears as Taehyun begins to move.

It’s slow at first, the grind of his hips against yours allowing his cock to hit deep into you, the wet sounds of your cunt around him making you feel slightly shy before the thought is completely thrown out the window— you could care less of what’s happening around you as he begins to thrust roughly against you, your body rocking from the motion and your eyes threatening to flutter shut as you feel his cock hit against your sweet spot; but you refrain from doing so, much more entranced by his gaze as he slowly begins to pick up the pace, the sounds that come from you getting more difficult to muffle as you feel yourself getting overwhelmed by the pleasure.

The reminder that there are two people that could hear you has you looking over to where they stand, feeling your heartbeat pick up from the anxiety as you eye that direction carefully— you’re quickly snapped back to reality the moment Taehyun is jerking your head back to him gently, tightening his hold on you as his gaze darkens.

“Eyes on me,” he whispers, rolling his hips just the way you like as though to make a point.

Eyes on him. Eyes only on him, you think, struggling to think anything coherent as his hand reaches up to pull your breasts out from your top, the flesh spilling out and beginning to bounce freely from the way Taehyun is fucking you— the heart jewelry that adorns your nipples shine at him, the sight making your boyfriend let out a weak moan as you feel him twitch inside you.

“So lucky to have you,” Taehyun sighs, reaching over to your other leg as he briefly lets go of your mouth— not before taking one of your hands and placing it over your mouth, pressing his hand firmly over your own as he gives you a stern look— and he hoists you up, leaving you completely at his mercy as he begins to bounce you on his cock, the feeling making you slap your other hand over your mouth as you eyes roll back from the pleasure.

“Stupid little airhead, only has eyes for me,” he rambles, laughing quietly to himself before it breaks out into another moan— he’s practically driving you into the wall behind you as he fucks into you roughly, able to set a much faster pace as he watches your tits bounce in his face lewdly, “god, so glad to have you all to myself— you’re perfect, cute little pussy was made for me.”

You clench down on him at that, feeling as though you’re going crazy from the pleasure— that, and the way your boyfriend looks, feeling your nails dig into your cheeks as you take in his messy, wet hair, his tan skin and muscles that flex from using his strength on you, and his face that’s contorted with pleasure as his lips become bruised with how much he’s biting on them— in an effort to keep himself quiet, he hovers over you, placing his head directly next to yours so he can moan and whisper to you freely.

“Wanna cum?” He asks, feeling the way you’re beginning to clench uncontrollably; frantically, you nod, tears beginning to pool in your eyes as you look at him with pure desperation in your eyes.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he grins, knowing that you’re too fucked to even speak correctly, “mine, and only mine.”

You’re trying to choke back on your sounds as you wonder if doing that is even possible— then he slows down, grinding into you and burying his cock as deep as possible as it begins to kiss your cervix— coyly, he leans down, his hair tickling your collarbone as he wraps his mouth around your breast; circling your nipple with his tongue lewdly, covering it in his spit and tracing over the heart-piercing before he’s blowing air on it— you’re shaking from the feeling of him, unsure of how you’ll do what he asks without blowing your cover completely.

“Hyun…” you whine out quietly for him, sniffling as he slows down his pace, almost stilling inside you as he watches fat tears run down your cheeks with cruel eyes, “Hyun, I’m only yours— I only want you, no one else, promise I only think of you, love you so much…”

The way you’re hiccuping from the effort to choke back on your sounds has Taehyun groaning, taking a deep breath in order not to come before he’s pressing his lips firmly against yours— then he’s resuming his pace, watching as you quickly quiet yourself as your body bounces from how hard he’s fucking you.

It’s too much— you’re falling apart the moment he’s bringing a hand over to circle your clit, supporting you against the wall and holding you up with his other arm as he watches you fall apart, his mouth opening in a silent moan as you tighten around him, pleading breathily for him to cum inside as you do so.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up?” He asks, riding out your orgasm as he buries his head into your neck, “have you dripping with my cum while other people try to flirt with you? Give you a little reminder of who you belong to, fuck…”

With one last harsh thrust, he buries himself deep in you, finally coming undone and filling you up with his hot cum as you moan against your hand— the harsh bite he leaves on the juncture of your neck has you whimpering weakly, hands becoming limp and falling against his chest as he presses the rest of his body against you, holding you up as the two of you pant and try to regain your composure.

“You’re too good to me,” Taehyun finally sighs out, placing soothing kisses over the place he bit you, listening to the way you laugh softly in response. You’re throwing your arms over his neck as one of them moves to his nape, pulling him away from your neck and bringing him in for a sweet kiss— you’re reluctant to part as you speak, unable to hold back from pecking him between your words as you do so.

“You’re too good for me,” you say, pausing to give him a kiss, irresistible as always as he laughs breathily at your words, “you’re always putting up with me.”

“Not your fault you’re irresistible,” Taehyun smiles, watching as you grow shy under his comment despite the fact that he’s still bottomed out inside you, “I still love showing you off.”

“I wanna show you off too, you know,” you pout, hitting his chest gently before you’re pausing, biting your lip uncertainly as you tilt your head, “if you’re okay with that.”

Taehyun realizes quickly what you’re referring to, unable to stop the fond laugh that escapes him as he takes a second to think.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

It takes a second of you celebrating cheerfully to finally sober up and ask Taehyun to put you down— your legs are wobbly as you feel your face grow hot, his cum immediately leaking out of you as you whine in embarrassment for him to not stare— he can only shake his head in amusement at your antics, helping you clean up with the only thing he’s able to find at the moment.

“Wait, that’s my favorite beach skirt,” you whine, not putting up much of a fight as Taehyun kneels before you, your leg thrown over his shoulder as he cleans you up, placing gentle kisses along your inner thighs as he does so.

“I can wash it,” he replies, unable to hide his grimace as he tucks it away in his pocket; the sight is enough to have you giggling, readjusting your swimsuit and fixing your appearance before you’re hiding behind Taehyun, asking him if his coworkers are gone yet.

“The coast is clear,” he hums, scanning the nearly empty beach as he spots your friends sitting by the ocean, chatting idly amongst themselves.

“You don’t think they heard us, right?” You ask, blinking at him innocently as the belief that you did a good job keeping quiet runs through your head— the sight is enough to have Taehyun soften, letting out a sigh before he’s nodding his head.

“Yeah. You were so good for me.”

Taehyun knows better, though— but he doesn’t really mind, because now he knows that he won’t have to worry about either coworker flirting with you the next time you come to the beach.

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etherealkissed88 · 4 months

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about negative thoughts

if i think negative thoughts, im like thats my human, limited self whos thinking that but my inner self, my limitless god self knows everything she wants is already hers in imagination so those thoughts really mean nothing. this rly helps me with worrying about ‘negative’ thoughts. step back and see the world through the eyes of god. would god care about a repetitive negative thought? is it worth my attention? is it worth my energy? no. also, remember the fact that everything is neutral including thoughts. thoughts have no original meaning so if you become aware of a thought and you classify it as negative, you are adding meaning to that thought when theres no original meaning to begin with.

if i find myself classifying a thought as negative, i realize that is will never affect me. it is my identity, my state that manifests…not my thoughts. so lets say i keep thinking “i am broke asf” but i identify as the person who is always rich. that identity/state means more than thoughts. believe or not. the state will always manifest so putting so much fear on negative thoughts are useless. know they are always neutral and move on. even fear is neutral. even if my ‘negative’ thoughts stay, i just embrace them because why not? they are never serious, they dont effect me, they are literally useless.

when your in the moment, you act these thoughts are the end of the world when in reality they are always temporary. dont let something as small and common as thoughts drag you down. to add, it is completely normal to feel emotional w these thoughts but know they are temporary and they cant change your state unless you allow them to. when i have negative thoughts, i remember im god and i would either become aware of something else or i would just embrace the thoughts bc i rly dont gaf about them. if i feel sad, i let myself feel that bc its temporary and in the end i know i wouldnt let it affect my state/identity. a beautiful model has thoughts that shes ugly but she identifies as beautiful. do you think these thoughts affect her? no. she moves on from it bc she knows her identity. during or after feeling sad bc of the negative thoughts, i would decide im still the ideal version of me bc i know emotions and thoughts are always neutral. i would continue identifying as the person i want.

finally, if u were fulfilled (if you knew you already had your desire), thoughts wouldnt bother you because you are so confident in your state. thats another example of why thoughts mean nothing bc if you were fulfilled you wouldnt care about them but if you werent fulfilled, you would let them affect you; it shows it all comes down to you because the thoughts dont have any power of their own.

summary

𖥔 thoughts are always neutral and temporary; they have no original meaning until you assign meaning

𖥔 thoughts do not manifest, your inner identity/state does

𖥔 look at negative thoughts through the eyes of god/the operant power ; they would not gaf about negative thoughts because they know all the control comes from them, not thoughts

𖥔 actually being fulfilled helps you not care about thoughts

kisses, jani𖥔

#etherealkissed🎀#etherealkissed #manifesting #loa blog #law of assumption #loassumption #edward art #neville goddard #affirm and persist #loastates #loa tumblr

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monarchofdreams · 5 months

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Familial

This is my grandson, Joseph. He has always taken care of me since he was a little boy. I would always appreciate him helping me clean the house, walk to the kitchen, or even buy me groceries. When he was young, he loved to play sports. He'd say he'd grow big and strong just so he could help me. I was always so proud of him when he showed me his medals and trophies. Unfortunately, I was always too old and frail to see his football games. He did well with academics as well. He was athletic, intelligent, and not to mention his looks, but he was also gorgeous. I love him so much, but it bothered me to see him lonely. I mean, he's very popular and has plenty of friends. However, even with his good looks and charm, he doesn't have the confidence to ask a girl out. He would always say that he would never get a girl or they wouldn't want to date him. That's just ridiculous! He is wasting those amazing genetics. If I had thise looks back in my day, I'd have women from all over town begging to get into my pants. Fast forward a few years, I was stuck in a hospital bed waiting to kick the bucket, and Joseph was taking care of me. He's a grown adult with his own life, yet he never left me behind. He was devastated when I passed away. He locked himself in his room for days just to cry. I reached out to comfort him, but suddenly, in that moment, everything went blank.

Slowly, sound starts to return, and I can feel a draft against my skin, across my entire body. As I slowly open my eyes, I realize I am in my grandson's apartment. As I take in my new surroundings, my eyes drift toward my large arms and hands... they aren't mine! They are nicely tanned and without a wrinkle in sight! I have tattoos decorating my now bulging biceps. I am only wearing a pair of Nike briefs, fully exposed, leaving little to the imagination. I quickly ran to the bathroom, and to my disbelief, I was greeted by Joseph's reflection, displaying a shocked expression, but it was not long until that confusion shifted into curiosity and arousal.

I started to gently touch the soft skin of my face and torso, which was now blanketed in thick slabs of muscle mass. My hands glided down my chest, fondling my massive pecs and washboard abs. As I felt myself up, a massive bulge started begging for attention. I bit my lip as my hands began to move down, as if they had a mind of their own. My fingers glide across my pecs, brushing against my firm nipples. My body began to shudder the more I touched them. Damn, they are very sensitive. I felt my raging cock stiffen against my briefs, and a damp spot started to form. Without wasting more time, I quickly reached down the damp briefs, my hand breaking past webs of pre built up from the past few minutes. My fingers wrap around my manhood, but just barely. Holy shit, I am massive. I take my thumb nad massage my tip, feeling more slick juice coating my hands. Without warning, my hips suddenly buck forward, causing a soft masculine moan to escape my lips.

I haven't felt this good in years, and I am hungry for more. I continue to grind my cock against my massive rough hands, my breathing growing heavier with each pump. I can feel pressure building up as I get closer to finishing, but I won't allow this to end so soon. I release my hand from its cum soaked prison, and take a wiff of my spunk. It reaks of the musk of a true man. I feel my cock soften just enough to get my briefs to loosen its grip. I pull down the elastic, letting my 8 inches of pure manhood to spring out and breathe, dripping with white spunk and sweat. I know I'm taking this too far, violating Joseph's body, but I can't control myself. I wrapped my hand once again around my shaft and began pumping my that dick. As I pump, it continues to inflate an extra 2 inches in my hands. My rough hands stroke the ridges of my fuckstick, driving me insane with each pass. "Ooof. Oh fuck, yes..." My moans of pleasure grow louder and louder. Hearing the sexy voice of my grandson spout lude words from my mouth and feeling the base of his vocal chords vibrate within my throat is sending me over the edge. More and more pressure begin to build up as I feel cum rise up my piping hot rod. Nothing else mattered right now. Only thoughts of sex and pleasure filled my mind. My grandson's well-being was no longer a concern. "This is my body, Joseph. You love your grandpa, right? So I'm sure you'll be thrilled if I stay. You like that, don’t you? Ohhh, yes. Unnghh, " I yelp out in my new sexy voice as I reach my limit. "Im coming. Oh yes, baby, I'm coming. Nnnngg..." It was not long until my cock finally erupted, my white juice coating my sweaty body. The smell of musk continued to turn me on, and without hesitation, I brought my cum cover hand to my mouth, licking my fingers clean. The thick juices slid down my throat as I enjoyed the salty taste of my youth. My dick was still rock hard and leaking. I can really go for a second serving.

#male body possession #straight to gay #old to young

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dungeonpuppykai · 2 months

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|| Magic ||

Description: One in which Rafe shows you his talent for making his fingers disappear in mysterious places of your body.

Pairing: Dark!Rafe Cameron | Naive!You.

Disclaimer: I do not own Rafe Cameron. This story contains dark and mature content so browse at your own discretion, please. For what it may be worth, Rafe and reader are very much adults. Minors do not interact.

Warning(s): Dubcon (only to be safe), Dark!Rafe, naive!Reader, dumbification/infantilization, fingering, manipulation, corruption kink, daddy kink, coercion, allusions to plushie grinding, Rafe smokes, slight dacryphilia, childhood friends trope.

Note: So, uh, I am supposed to be working on my research paper lmfao. Feedback is much appreciated 🩷

MASTERLIST

Your neighbor and childhood friend Rafe claims he knows magic.

"No, you don't!" You giggle at him, playfully swinging your caterpillar stuffie in his general direction as you patter your feet in the tiny puddle that keeps gathering and retreating on the tail of one of the many yachts his family owns.

Rafe is very nice.

He is always buying you candies, plushies and pretty dresses even though you try your best to decline.

Then when he isn't busy, he takes you on a spin on one of the many expensive vehicles that he owns.

He always has.

He says he likes to take care of you.

"What, you don't believe me?" Rafe has to squint his eyes against the evening sun as he turns his head to look at you, one hand subconsciously reaching out to adjust one of the silky pink ribbons that is part wrapped around and part mixed with the two half pigtails in which you are wearing your hair.

"When and where did you learn this magic?" You are not convinced at all. "All of a sudden out of nowhere, pfft…!" You mutter as you shake your head, snorting at the absurdity.

The devious and dark glint that appears in Rafe's eye goes unnoticed by you. "Now don't go laughing at me like that, bunny" there is a warning in his tone and you can't help but instantly whimper like the fiddle you are. "You know I don't like it when you act like that" he moves in a little, the menace of the action making you gulp even though he would never hurt you.

He never has.

"S- Sorry, Rafey…" He clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

Uh oh, he's unhappy now.

There will be consequences sooner or later.

"No can do" he lights himself a cigarette and you can't help but pout a little. The smell makes you cough and you don't like it when he does that. But you know better than to condemn him because you remember the one and only time you did it all too well. "You acted like I was a liar or something, bunny" his free hand reaches for your thigh and softly drags up and down along its length. "Now I must prove myself, no?"

Your heartbeat has quickened up already. You don't exactly know why, but it always does whenever Rafe gets too close or touches you a certain way. "Y- Yes, Rafey…" You don't really know what else to say.

"Good girl" the way he says it makes you blush. "Now, as I was saying…" The dress you're wearing is one of his favorites. He had gotten you it last year but he always demanded– no no, requested that you wear it over and over. "I can make my fingers disappear between your legs" you cough a little due to his exhale as you hold your stuffie out of the way to allow him easier access to yourself.

Rafe says best friends can be naked in front of each other, it's not a big deal.

You trust him because he's always right and only means well.

"But, how!" You bite your lip when he bunches the hem of your dress around your waist and caresses your bunny part with the back of his hand since he took your underwear off when you got on the yacht. Rafe says it's important to let it air out every once in a while. Truly, your best friend is so nice and takes such good care of you! "There is no place for it to vanish!" As always, your voice wavers in reaction to his touch.

You feel strange things whenever he touches you between your legs, or on your bummy or your boobsies.

But Rafe says it's a good thing, because that proves that you really love him.

The male tsks. "Have some faith, will you, bunny?" Taking a long drag of his cigarette, he cups your bunny part and squishes your intimate lips open with the help of his thumb. "That's where the magic comes in" your mouth parts as you lean back, moving your arms behind you and placing your palms flat against the floor of the yacht. "See, you're healthily wet, bunny. This is why you need to minimize wearing pants, because your body is at its best when you don't" your slick coats his digit as he glides it over your folds.

"Y- Yes, Rafey…" You whimper shakily, feeling a tremble arise in your elbows. "B- But… it's not disappearing, yuno…" He scoffs and rolls his eyes at that.

"That's because I haven't started yet, silly" he locks the nicotine stick between his lips as he reaches for Miss Caty -your stuffie- and places it right in front of where his finger meets your bunny part. "Tsk, just so impatient, aren't we?" Now he changes the finger he has been teasing you with by adjusting his hand around you. "Say, don't you agree Miss Caty should also see this magic trick?"

Your throat is dry and mouth parched. "Y- Yes Rafey–" your words are forced to halt when he clicks his tongue repeatedly in obvious disapproval.

"You can do better than that, bunny~" you cough a little due to the smoke again.

"S- Sorry…"

"Sorry, what?" He raises an eyebrow and you nearly jump out of your skin at a strange and almost painful probe that some unknown area of your bunny part receives.

"D- Daddy…!" You whine out, knowing better than to complain. Rafey says good girls don't fuss with their Daddies. "Sorry, Daddy…"

"That's my girl~" discarding the burnt out butt of the cigarette, he lights himself another with his free hand while massaging your soaking flesh.

He only continues once he's done with fixing himself another cigarette, the stick propped in a corner of his mouth as he exhales through his nose. "Now," his free hand grasps one of your half pigtails in it to guide your head in the right direction. "Watch…" Your chin presses into the area between your collarbones as your head is forced oceanward.

Your eyes widen and mouth parts when his middle finger circles an opening you cannot quite see, a dull ache forming in your bunny part when his digit dips downwards and causes a strange noise in your moist nether regions before it starts to move in and true to Rafe's word, begins to disappear.

"Daddy!" You gasp, one hand reaching to snatch his idle onr as you wince. "O- Owie!" Your eyes well up in shock and discomfort.

Hell, you didn't even know such a place existed in your body!

"It's okay, bunny~" his coo morphs into a low groan when he hits you knuckle deep, unable to intrude you any further. "It's alright, just like that, you're doing so good."

"B- But… h- hurts, Daddy" as Rafe's finger slowly pulls out only to repeat its prior action, your bottom lip wobbles and cheeks wetten with thick, hot tears.

"I know, my sweet little bunny, I know" his free hand cups the side of your face to caress your cheek lovingly, the action causing you to tighten yourself around his finger. "But that's only because you're such a good and precious little girl" you softly cough due to the close proximity between you and his dangling nicotine stick. It makes you clench again and Rafe can't hold back his groan this time. "Come on, don't you trust me, hm?" His voice is rushed when your eyes release more tears.

You sniffle and nod. "D- Do, Daddy…"

"Good, then know that this is something very fun and more than just a magic trick…" His digit starts to gain pace. "Remember how weird you felt when you went jolly riding on Mr. Huggies for the first time?" Your face flushes harder at the mention but you nod obediently. "But you love doing that now, don't you?" A shaky whimper escapes you as you can't help but reminisce the odd, throat tightening and ear numbing climax that always comes after you hump your favorite teddy and just how good it feels every time, the thought making you clench once more. "Come on now, use your words" his lulls are lazy as he connects his thumb to the hood of your clit, swiping it across the flesh horizontally.

Stars are beginning to form in your vision already. "Y- Yes, Daddy. Yes…" Your back arches when his finger reaches a foreign point within your cavern and you moan out loud. "Oh, yes, Daddy! F- Feels so good! L- Love doing it!"

Rafe can't help but bite down on the butt of his cigarette as he wordlessly marvels at how perfect you look all disheveled and pearl skinned due to the orange sun hitting its sweat decorated pigment in the most breathtaking way.

All because of him.

The trembling of your legs is just the sweet cherry on top.

"Buck up, now~" his voice always adds to the pressure that builds between your hips whenever you two play like this. It doesn't matter what he says, your body just melts in reaction to how big and authoritative it sounds. "Come on, let go for Daddy" you moan and throw your head back. As though your body has developed a mind of its own all of a sudden, you feel your hips start to grind against his finger.

"OH!" Your squeak nearly bounces off the mountains that are on one side of the yacht, your hole squelching loudly at receiving another finger inside it. "Oh, Daddy!" Your toes curl and pussy lips vibrate because of how fast he's going now, the swiping of his thumb bringing you to a climax much stronger and satisfying than all of your old ones combined.

"Good bunny, let go for Daddy, he will take care of you~" your arms give out and you collapse against your back, spasming on the yacht floor as you can't help but scream out loud when hypersensitivity kicks in regardless of how euphoric the feeling is. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull as momentary vitiligo forms in your ears, your blood revolting its way through your heart with each hammering beat.

Your back curls and you clench as you move towards recovery, everything happening way too quickly and all at once due to your lack of experience. Rafe prohibits your legs from coming together by holding them apart with his free hand, dark need swimming in his eyes as he stares at you, fingers fucking your orgasm out. The breeze has brought your dress all the way up to your neck and your braless erect nipples are staring back at Rafe; teasing and inviting him.

"See?" He speaks once you have somewhat calmed down and he has plopped his fingers out of your tight cavern. "Wasn't that some great fucking magic, huh?" You tiredly nod your head at him, whimpering out a smile as you sensitively grip his hand that is palming one of your breasts with both of yours.

"Y- Yes, Daddy." Your yawn makes him chuckle and he retreats his hand only to slide his arms under your sprawled form to gather it between them.

"Aw, tired already, bunny?" You softly giggle when he stands up holding you bridal style. "But I haven't even shown you all my tricks yet" you have no idea why but a shudder escapes you at that. Rafe bends down to pick Miss Caty up and place her on your tummy before he makes his way towards the cabins. "Don't you think she liked my magic, bunny?" He refers to the stuffie as he nods in its direction. "I think she liked it."

You submissively nod before agreeing. "Y- Yes, Daddy."

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe x reader

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tripleyeeet · 6 months

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WEAVED TOGETHER (SAY IT'S FOREVER)

SUMMARY: After faking your death years ago, Astarion finally finds you in Waterdeep.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,128

WARNINGS: 18+ sexual content, fingering, orgasm denial, sex used as a manipulation tactic, biting, blood sucking, descriptions of past/current abuse, Ascendent Astarion (feel like I need to tag this just in case), a whole lot of angst.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This fic gave me so much grief. I really hope my labour translates into something good because man, if it doesn't I might fucking cry. :') Also, fic title is inspired this bop!

MASTERLIST

You’ve never been particularly keen on parties. Favouring quite possibly anything above the stuffy insides of a ballroom packed with people, it’s a miracle that you haven’t already left Gale’s side for some air. To take even the shortest of moments to allow yourself some alone time.

Feeling the fabric of your dress uncomfortably stick to your skin, you can’t help but squirm at the thought of having to stay any later. Considering you’ve been here for a good few hours already, you’re tempted to ask Gale if maybe now’s the time to part ways.

At this point you’ve been well and truly shown off to the entire party, gawked at by countless of his old academic friends, so surely he wouldn’t mind if you up and left now, right?

Before you can think to ask, he’s already wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you in for a friendly kiss to the cheek. “I really do appreciate you coming,” he tells you, drunkenly swaying as he speaks, letting out a chuckle as you hold him steady. “I would’ve been terribly embarrassed to show up at such a renowned event without a date.”

“So you’ve mentioned.” You shoot him a smug look, watching him roll his eyes and take a sip of wine, debating whether or not to take the glass from him, knowing just how much he’s had.

“I mean it, you’ve been nothing short of wonderful to me in my time of need, so thank you.”

Despite the urge to play down his thanks, to remind him of all the things he’s done for you as of late, you merely take it, offering him a quick you’re welcome in return, knowing just how persistent a drunken Gale can get. How the man hardly pauses to breathe in the midst of a conversation —his endless string of words seeming to lose you almost instantly every time.

Even now, as he begins to go on some long-winded speech about the importance of your friendship, you’re already miles away, longing to drift towards the balcony that rests just across the room, taunting you with its open air and lack of people.

“Anyways, would you care for another drink? I’m in need of one myself thanks to the hole at the bottom of my glass.” Pulling you back in, Gale lets out a joyous laugh, throwing his head back while you merely shake your head.

“I’m uh, no I’m fine Gale. You go ahead and get that drink. I think I’m going to head outside and get some air.”

All he does is give you a tight hug before he leaves, stumbling across the marble floors, bumping into various bodies that suddenly get caught up in his inebriated storm, allowing you a moment to yourself.

You let out a sigh of relief then, turning your attention to your desired spot, gathering up the skirt of your dress so that you can race to its opening, breathing in the scent of fresh air once you step past the threshold.

Somehow once you’re out there, you notice that there isn’t a body in sight. No couples having late-night trysts in the corner or other lonesome individuals stood painfully reflecting on their night. It’s just you by yourself, walking slowly towards the railing, gripping it tight as you allow your mind to settle. To shut down for just a moment after being on for so long.

It feels like forever since you’ve felt this calm. After years of endless journeys —of fighting and running and, as of late, hiding away— you feel that old sense of ease wash over you. Like the waves of Waterdeep’s coast, they gently lap at your feet, rising and falling with each breath you take, watching from afar the bustling city streets below as they begin to die out for the night.

It reminds you of home, a bit. Of the nights you used to spend wandering around Baldur’s Gate, your belly full of the cheapest ale and your mind empty of anything other than the prospect of fun. Back then, you were always full of reckless abandon, constantly getting into trouble only to talk your way out of it not long after and unfortunately, you can’t help but begin to miss it all. The life before the war. Before you were taken in the dead of night and forced into a life you never wanted to live.

Things were simpler then. You didn’t have the scars of clashing swords or the kind of memories that often shook you awake each night, covered in sweat and gasping for air. Devoid of anything truly awful, all you had was the blissful ignorance of a fool. One hellbent on solitude in a world of constant interaction.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the people you’d met along the way you’d be jealous of that life. The one where you were seemingly untouchable, your mind vacant of regret and resentment and—

Before you can continue, you shake those same feelings from your mind, forcing out a heavy breath as you try to maintain the calm. The ocean of waves of Waterdeep pooling between your toes, knowing it’s the only way you’ll move on. If you focus on the positives —if you refuse to look back even for the slightest of moments you’ll forget all about those other lives you lived. All the chapters you spent haphazardly scribbling down, trying desperately to get to this moment.

It seems impossible sometimes, remembering how much shit you had to go through to get here. Not only did you have to survive countless wars involving mind flayers and cultists, but you also had to die to get it. And not die in the metaphorical sense, either. No, you had to literally die —to off yourself in front of countless people and hope to god the Necromancer that you hired actually turned up.

It was a whole process. One that you refuse to think about as you let out a scoff and raise your hands to your head, pressing two fingers to either temple to relieve yourself of the sudden ache that hits.

“Remember what we said about thinking,” you remind yourself then, allowing your eyes to slowly roll back, savouring the alleviated pressure your fingers provide.

Repeating the mantra in your head, you rub your skin and hum aloud, standing for a few more minutes as you listen to the sounds of the bustling party behind you. How the music swells into a crescendo of excitement, various strings and woodwinds all playing in time with one another.

Alongside it, a calming voice echoes over, rising and falling with each passing note that carries through the air to your ears. At first, it’s soft and silky —comforting in a way that wills you to drop your hands and take a few steps towards the entrance of the building, watching as a beautifully freckled bard strums her lute and smiles at the crowd.

Suddenly intrigued, you move to your previous spot inside the ballroom, spotting a rather awestruck Gale who’s holding onto two glasses of red, staring with widened eyes.

“She’s rather pretty.” You grin wickedly and bump your hip against his, hearing him grunt as he blinks and glances at you.

“I’m sorry?”

Taking the glass nearest to you, you then use that same hand to motion to the bard that’s begun to erupt in an upbeat chorus, her voice lowering to a wild growl as she kicks up her feet, dancing around the stage with some of the other musicians. “The bard. Fancy a taste?”

He narrows his eyes at you, a grin of his own peeling across his face as he shakes his head. “I think a conversation would suffice. Least, for starters.”

Biting your bottom lip, you jokingly wrap your arm around his shoulders and shake, pressing your face against his cheek to make obnoxious kissing sounds that leave him laughing and shoving you off.

“Unhand me, you harlot!”

“What? Afraid she’ll see?”

He opens his mouth, almost offended, staring for a moment as you wiggle your brows and take a sip of the wine. “Excuse you, that was my drink.”

“You got yourself two drinks?” You raise your brow.

He scrunches up his face in response before subtly craning his neck towards the other side of the ballroom. “No, it’s for Astarion.”

Your stomach sinks at the mention of his name, filling you with the kind of dread you’ve only felt one other time in your life. All at once it sends you into a panic. Your chest aching and your throat tightening. Even your hands, once carefully wrapped around the vessel of liquid seemingly shifts to a close, resulting in shattering glass that pokes and prods your skin before it falls to the ground.

Crying out in surprise, Gale’s previously mischievous expression quickly fades. Replacing it, an air of worry envelopes the both of you. As he reaches for your arm, allowing his hand to carefully slide down to view your newfound injury, you try to swallow and scan the room, picking apart face after face to no avail, wondering if somehow he’s already found you. If perhaps, instead of where Gale assumes he is he’s instead directly behind you, lingering like the creature of the night he is, waiting to strike.

A shaky breath escapes you then. Peeling away from Gale’s cautious grasp, you take a minute to blink and look him up and down, noticing the growing fear in his eyes. How his lack of understanding only spurs your head to whip behind you, to find more curious eyes staring back.

“Are you alright?”

The question comes from a voice you’ve never heard before. So, instead of entertaining it you merely turn back to Gale, suddenly catching an unfortunate glimpse of pale skin and ivory hair quite a ways back.

Immediately, it strengthens the dread inside, ripping the breath from your lungs as you press a nervous hand to your neck, realizing that somehow it’s already been years since you’ve last seen him. Months and days and hours all collectively bundled together, only to be completely ruined by this one moment.

As you stand there, staring —watching as he does nothing but the same, you feel your mind yelling for you to run. To discard whatever reservations you may have left to push violently through the crowd because, at this rate, it’s the only option left. Having already tried hiding beneath the freezing hands of Death himself, it’s obvious you’ve exhausted all other options. No matter what you do —what you say— nothing will be deemed feasible enough to grant you the escape you so foolishly desire. You’re too vulnerable now, standing there in your ballroom gown, bleeding from your injured hand, trying not to have a full-blown panic attack as he takes that first stride forward.

Matching his step, you feel your body waver backwards, everything suddenly swirling across your vision as Gale reaches out to grab your arm, asking if you’re okay.

“I’m aware the breakup wasn’t amicable but maybe if you two just talk?” he suggests, his voice bouncing off your ears like a war drum, reminding you that Sufferance is coming. And that he’s dressed in his fanciest suit to mark the occasion, practically gliding through the room with knitted brows and frowning lips, pushing aside everybody who gets in his way.

“Gale, we —I need to go.”

Suddenly your palm, still filled with glass pushes against his robes, staining the fabric as your blood begins to drip, reminding you of his hunger —of the way he used to feed. How he took and took, ignoring your starvation for something other than submission. Refusing to acknowledge the withering of your soul each day you spent wrapped around his pretty little fingers.

As he shoves a woman to the ground, you can feel the emptiness within your stomach start to grow at the memory. The shuddering of your limbs driving Gale to look behind him, noticing the wild look in Astarion’s eyes as the crowd begins to part in fear, watching as he bares his teeth.

It’s a look that makes you instantly flinch. Closing your eyes, your shoulders rise to touch your ears in anticipation. Waiting for the moment to strike, you all but freeze in place, holding your breath as the steps of his boots draw near, reverberating through the air until they suddenly stop.

In fact, everything stops. The sound of him —the sound of the party. All of it falls onto deaf ears, creating a new fear that has you so terrified you merely stand in place until you eventually hear the clapping sound of a hand on someone’s back, followed by the swirling of your head again, forcing your eyes to jolt open.

“Oh, hello darling, didn’t see you there.”

Once again trying to breathe, you glance between the two men in confusion, watching as they share a lengthy embrace before Astarion’s pushing himself onto you. Gentler than expected, his arms slowly wrap around your shoulders as he does it, pulling you to his chest in a way that feels both frightening and familiar. A mix of home and hell encased around your nervous frame as he lowers his head to yours.

In response, you reluctantly raise your hands and place them on his back, applying a bit of pressure at the centre as you mutter out a muddled hi, looking to see that the commotion he so violently caused before seems to have evaporated into thin air.

“You’re awfully far from home, aren’t you?” His voice is barely above a whisper, ghosting against the shell of your ear as you force out a shaky breath.

“So are you.”

“I wonder why that is.”

You hum in response. Using the short moment of silence that’s granted to stare. To watch the way he looks you up and down, the edges of his lips pulling into a smirk of amusement.

It’s obvious then that he’s thinking of playing tricks. Of taunting and teasing —using all the usual charming tactics before he decides it’s worth it to raise a little hell.

Because of this, you merely swallow hard and spare Gale a glance, watching him magic away the bloodstain on his robes before looking back towards the stage.

“How did you find me?”

Astarion reaches for your chin. Taking hold of it with his thumb and forefinger, he then waits patiently for you to share his gaze, looking your face up and down until he can finally see the fear in your eyes. “Does it really matter?”

It does, but you know he won’t tell you so you move on to another question. “Why are you here then?”

Immediately he scoffs, the smirk on his face falling for a split second. “Do you really have to ask?” he says, letting his thumb run across the length of your bottom lip. “Obviously, I’ve come to enjoy a spot of red with old friends.”

“Hm.”

“Among other things, of course.”

“Like?”

“Reclaiming my dead consort, for one.”

“And two?”

He shrugs his shoulders as he taps your chin. “Not sure. Depends on how the night goes.”

You’re not sure what to say then. Growing increasingly lost to the feeling of his hands and voice —remembering all the moments shared when it was just him and you and the power imbalance of ascension hadn’t yet existed— all you can do is pull him in a bit tighter.

Knowing that Gale is probably growing more curious by the second, you suddenly feel a sense of protection. An urge to get rid of him so that he’s no longer at risk.

Well aware of the power Astarion now holds within his grasp, you know it’s hardly worth it to try and get him involved anyway, especially considering how much alcohol he’s consumed. The poor man couldn’t be helpful even if he tried, so instead of asking you merely hold on. Tightening your grip as the other parts of you desperately try to rationalize just how much you’ve missed this. How even after years spent fleeing his hold —years of constant moving and hiding and watching your back for signs of his presence— his touch is still the only thing that makes you feel safe.

Which is a fact that makes you sick to your stomach, discovering that, regardless of being able to name a million reasons why you should be fleeing rather than falling, suddenly you’re able to name just as much for why you’d stay. Why you’d more than willingly follow his footsteps if he asked.

And not because you fear him, no. Despite having just been found out —despite that growing uncertainty of how you’ll inevitably be taken back— it’s as if your mind resets on impact. As he holds you close, speaking in obvious threats to your safety if you don’t listen, you can feel the defiance in you quickly dwindle. Evaporating into thin air as he leans away to give Gale an overly friendly smack to the shoulder.

“Gale, darling, you wouldn’t mind giving us a bit of privacy would you? Seems we have much to discuss.”

The hold he has on you tightens as he speaks, reminding you that such a conversation is anything but optional as Gale almost immediately buggers off, drunkenly mumbling something about drinks and fun before Astarion’s whisking you away.

Leading you through a crowd of bodies, you quickly find your hand gripping his shoulder absentmindedly. All splayed out, your fingers nervously caress the fabric of his doublet, feeling the texture shift beneath your skin, reminding you that he’s here. That’s he’s present and real and not just some illusion conjured up to scare you into coming back.

“Your entrance back there was…”

You’re not sure what to say anymore. Not with the underlying rage you can feel radiating off of him. Given the fact that it’s been so long, you’ve almost forgotten how to please him. To make his mind ease into those old spaces of pity where sometimes he’d grant you reprieve amongst the punishment.

Knowing this, he looks at you with feigned innocence, taunting you with his still raised lip as though he’s having fun despite slowly inching towards the blowout. “Did you like it? I figured, it’s been so long since I’ve last toyed with that little mind of yours, best to give it a proper show.”

He wipes his thumb across your forehead and watches you frown; your head suddenly darting back only to be ripped forward when that same hand tightens around your throat.

All at once the action leaves you gasping for air. As his thumb presses down on the centre of your neck, applying just enough pressure to pull from you a nervous wheeze as the two of you stop, he can’t help but lower his face to yours.

“I’d consider yourself lucky that the temperament I showed back there was merely an illusion,” he tells you, pressing his forehead to yours.

Swallowing to no avail, you feel the lump in your throat become pressurized by the growing frustrations in his hand. Prompting you to panic, another airless sound emits from your lips as your eyes begin to dart around, looking at all the curious eyes that seemingly look away the second you make contact.

You realize then that nobody cares. Whether it’s due to the intimidating presence he exudes or the potential word of mouth of his ascendance circulating the room, you don’t care, knowing it doesn’t really matter anyway. He’s untouchable regardless. A force so unmovable that all you can do is pray that he’s merciless.

As he grips your throat amongst a sea of avoidant faces, unwavering in his efforts to patronize your past behaviours, you know then that this marks the end of your freedom. That from this moment on his control over you has been reenacted without discussion.

“Now, are we going to obey and have a nice evening or are we going to do something we might regret?”

Looking back at him, all you can do is nod, feeling that alleviation slowly come. Granting you the chance to breathe again, you cough quietly and reach for your throat, rubbing the pain away as you watch his previously aggressive demeanour fall into amusement, once again stringing you along.

At which point you effectively zone out. Still feeling his hand flush against the small of your back, it’s as if suddenly your mind becomes null, avoiding all thoughts as he leads you through the main entry of the ballroom, turning down a seemingly endless stream of corridors until you find yourself face to face with an ornate door.

Once there, he peels away from your frame and begins to pick the lock, wickedly grinning at you once that familiar click rings out, reminding you of the old him. Of how he was before the ritual, all doe-eyed and excited to experience the world and all its gifts.

It makes your lip pull between your teeth nervously, seeing him unbend the length of his back to look at you. To smirk in a way that feels so real and him that you almost forget that he’s changed. That, instead of picking the lock to loot the room and make charming little jokes at your expense, he’s doing it so he can get you alone. So that he can do unspeakable things the old Astarion would never think to do.

“Shall we?”

His voice rings out like a request even though you know deep down it’s a command, secretly telling you to hurry up. So, doing just that, you brush past him without so much as a glance, taking in the endless wall of books that greets you as you enter, opening your mouth in slight awe until the door closes behind you.

Turning back, you’re then given all but a second before he’s on you. Grabbing you with such violent desperation, a hand snakes around your waist, claiming you like he used to do when you were still devoted to being his. When this idea of free will was nothing more than a passing thought that barely grazed the surface.

Back when he was still yours.

Immediately, the familiarity of it wreaks havoc on your chest. Your heart, once filled with longing and fear now radiates nothing but need. Demanding that old sensation of flesh brushing against flesh as his other hand takes hold of the base of your neck.

The second you feel it, all thoughts are lost. Every previous reservation you once had melting into nothing against the hot feeling of your mouth pushing against his, prying open both lips to taste his tongue. To remind yourself of what it felt like to be wanted in the simplest sense.

Deepening the kiss, he moans and somehow pulls you closer, forcing your chests together as he maneuvers you backwards, stumbling over a raised edge of a rug before practically tossing you onto the floor.

“Years,” he groans then, pulling away to stare down at you with knitted brows and swollen lips, distracting you with that pretty face as he begins to rip the bodice of your dress. “I’ve spent years without this flesh —without this blood.”

His fingers pry at the fabric, peeling back the only layer you have to hide behind until you’re left exposed from the waist up, anxiously breathing at the sight of his hunger.

A sight that leaves you helpless beneath his grasp as he quickly leans forward, palming one breast while holding your face with the other. Beneath him, all you’re able to do is take each touch as it comes, savouring the uncharacteristic softness as his thumb brushes against your nipple, teasing it with gentle swipes as he goes in for another kiss.

Similar to his hands, there’s a strange feeling that comes along with it. As he nibbles your bottom lip, choosing to give you control, you know that something’s off. That instead of displaying the softest version of him you’ve felt in years, he should be punishing you with reckless brutality. Taking what’s rightfully his without so much as a thought.

Because of this, you reluctantly pull away, gasping for air as he hovers above you, still stroking your chest and face.

“Why are you doing this?”

Normally, such a question would result in some sort of punishment. A night of solitary confinement. Perhaps the silent treatment for up to a week.

Back before you realized just how fucked up everything had gotten he used to isolate you for things as simple as this. Forcing everyone around to ignore your every waking move, he found that loneliness was the key to your obedience. The only way to control whatever reckless thoughts entered your mind.

So, it’s surprising when he answers —when he lowers his mouth to give your lips one final kiss before flashing that smirk. “What do you mean?”

You raise your brow and move to sit up, leaning against your elbows as your face contorts in confusion. “Why are you acting like him?”

“You mean me?”

You open your mouth to respond —to fight against his words, knowing now more than ever that you should. Considering the door’s already open for conversation, you might as well get all your thoughts out while you’re able. Because after this it’s apparent, you’ll be stuck all over again, wasting away at the foot of a God who’s anything but forgiving.

“You aren’t punishing me.”

“I’m not.”

“Why?”

His hand explores your face, swiping across skin that hasn’t felt a single touch since your departure. “There’s always time for punishment —for penance,” he tells you, tracing your features with featherlight strokes that have you begging for more as you push yourself upward. “Now that I have you again, there’s far more important things I want before I subject you to what you deserve.”

“Which is?”

He pauses for a while, continuing his ministrations in a way that has you forgetting why you left in the first place. Why, instead of subjecting yourself to the torment of his hand to feel the grace that often coincides, you decided to give it all up.

“I haven’t quite decided yet.”

It’s a simple statement, yet it holds far too much weight against your ears. As he speaks, your heart flutters in your chest nervously, reminding you that this thing between you is nothing more than an imbalance. A tipping scale so unevenly distributed that you’ve lost all hope for rebalance.

Because of this, you don’t fight him when he inevitably leans forward. Nor when he presses a slightly rougher kiss to your lips, biting down with a newfound vigour that splits your lip in half. Feeling the blood pool out, you hardly react when Astarion’s lips begin to suckle the wound, lapping up whatever spills through as he rips away the rest of your clothes, tossing it all aside.

Suddenly cold, you find your arms rising to hold him all over again. Wanting to feel the fabric of his clothes pressing against your bare skin, you grip him tight and groan, relishing in this moment. Enjoying the familiarity of it as something warm blooms across your aching core, fuelling the need for your hips to slightly buck up, making him laugh.

Light and airy, the sound filters through your mouth like smoke, taking hold of your lungs in a way that leaves you addicted. Wanting to chase that past feeling, your hands swiftly lower to his waist, your fingers tucking themselves under his clothes to touch the texture of his scar —to feel the old him amongst all the new.

Realizing this, his movements become suddenly erratic. Forcing himself up with a grin, he then begins to quickly trail down your body, pressing his mouth to every exposed bit within his sightline, making sure to glance up at your heavy eyes and parted lips along the way.

“Mm, still as desperate as ever, my little consort,” he tuts.

Between the kisses he places to your freshly bruised flesh, he releases another laugh that lingers in your mind, further reminding you of him. Of the man you fell in love with. Of the man who swiftly slips between your thighs with little notice, raising the backs to rest against his shoulders.

A sound of shock escapes your lips at the new position, craning your neck to watch him latch onto your inner thigh, suckling the plush through such a guttural moan that it forces your jaw to drop.

“Fucking hell,” you mumble then, prompting his lips to curl into a grin before he’s biting your thigh, forcing his teeth through the tender flesh before you can even think to object.

It feels better than you remember. Almost like a hot flash of pleasure before that familiar coldness kicks in, numbing the space that he suckles with haste. As his lips hollow out to drink whatever he can get, you feel his hand slip against your entrance, knuckles grazing the outer folds of your sex just right.

Bucking your hips again, you feel his movements become one. Each time his tongue licks up, his fingers raise to the top of your cunt, flowing back down in such delicious unison you’re already ready to submit. To surrender yourself to whatever pleasures might await through the pain of your punishment.

So much so that you’re already begging for it. Through gasps that barely hit his ears, your voice whines for more. For more pressure or movement or frankly, whatever the hell he’s willing to give despite how undeserving you are.

“Please, Astarion.”

The moment he hears that little please he’s pulling away, grinning at you with teeth and tongue all covered in your blood.

“I’m sorry, you want me to please you?”

He gently pushes two fingers into your entrance, curling the ends ever so slightly while keeping them still, watching as you press your lips together, unable to speak.

“To pleasure you?”

Slowly, he angles his head to suck your thigh again, dragging a fresh wave of blood through his hungry lips before shifting towards your cunt and licking a tentative strip directly above his fingers.

“To taste you, perhaps?”

His voice is low, droning on in that teasing way that has you looking down annoyed, taking in the way he goes back and forth, debating whether or not to relent. To give in to the indulgence, watching you squirm beneath him. Forcing you to stir in your own prolonged pleasure until he all but sits back up, digging his fingers into the holes in your thigh, telling you you’ll get what you deserve once you’ve come back home.

@poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo@jjfchk@idiotsatan@bluestuesday@bloopthebat@art-by-greenie@heneralmoon@sukunababe@dreamingaboutyousworld@ranfithegood@haniscrying@liadamerondjarin@the-lake-is-calling@marina-and-the-memes@rookieoftheyear@zraloci-cpr@kaetmo@snickerdoodle-daydream@wowowwild@d1anna@raswiet@conniesbbymama@venus-wrts@demonicthorns@kihten@deadglamsheep@sanscas@spammypasta@leighsartworks216@rose-gold-blue@p1ssmagg0t@hellish-writes@ghostinvenus@otayz@sexysquatch@sleepyeclair@colorful-anxieties@alina-exe@ilana-the-lasagna@lillifer@girlwiththepapatattoo@y2cade@acelin-ginsberg@pinkuranium@catrad0rable@scarletrosesposts@qwnamidala@itsrosebabe@bunnyperi@queenofcarrotflowers-s@tatumadams20@spkyxszn@chlort@f3v3rs@awkwardwookie@joy-the-reader@warm-milk-with-honey-blog@vertigocrime@iyis@wildpiper@pebblethestone@tillywasneverhere@bex-03@kaetmo@revemiya@staticspouse@itzagothamcitysiren@djarinsmixtape@when-the-night-came@epicy0n@bababahannah@sleepyred1703@lotus-99@lofcompass@r4d10h34d5@vampninjaz@itsmekalou@offbrandhand@yikes-buddy@konenichi@rainonarden@oceanbluesixeyes@bodtyworship@maydayitsjay@greasyslimebucket@yeeteth-the-raven@fantasyfairysworld@allexthakatt@flowersaretheshit@morglyne@thespectacularspaceace@cephiss0@use-your-telescope@furblrwurblr@kloverfield@angelofthorr@writervaul-t@starved-kitten@minixluvr@crowley--aziraphale@sapphicwren@alionera-blog@jennithejester@dezedrol@thisisew@saladalpaca@applepiewithbacon@httpbiohazard@aurasyn@nerdoodles@kingpinthedevil@itzkawaiix@domainoflostsouls@silverskylan@uminootome@helpidkwhatimdoingwrong@deadlyinfernos@blackbirdswhispers@sarahskywalker-amadala@writingmysanity@f3v3rs@jayjones03@quietlyebbie@optimisticprime3@eyes-for-daze@sunnytalia3@megoshh@maddiedott@cappsikle@mostbeautifulnightmare@lynnlovesloki@simpytheshrimpy69@astarion-archive@smaranshakthi@autistic-deer@shadowfeart@freckled-petals@candied-lavender@hp-art-studio@ghouligan@satelliteapotheosis@waywardwitch-hel@pandimoostuff@mythoughtsofinsanity@ilovelovelylove@oneandonlyizabelle

TAGLIST NOW CLOSED!

#weaved together (say it's forever)#astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #ascended astarion #summer writes

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cipheramnesia · 2 months

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This is the process my brain goes through every time I see anything about Netflix Avatar The Last Airbender.

My first reaction is always: Why? The original, although not without flaws, doesn't leave a lot of room to improve. A good remake or adaptation usually involves an updated context or change in perspective that adds to the original work and gives it new meaning. It's a risky undertaking because it usually involves wanting to take on something established as iconic and make it your own. But Netflix is a corporation and seems very risk averse for the most part. Its only investment is in the name recognition of AtLA. It's hard to visualize Netflix deliberately taking a big risk on an expensive show.

My second reaction is: How? The original series is about 1400 minutes over 61 episodes, and it still had to rush the ending. We're looking at 8 episodes of roughly 45-60 minutes per episode for season 1, which would require Netflix to let it run more than 3 seasons, if the series has similar pacing. Historically however Netflix shows have glacial pacing, and rarely make three seasons. Not really sure how they plan to tell the story if the series is anything like the average Netflix series, meaning it either needs to undercut the story or let the series breathe for at least five seasons. But nothing Netflix has done makes me want to watch anything they make as an ongoing series? Why bother, they cancel everything I enjoy. So I wonder how. What's the hook to say "this will be able to provide something new and interesting compared to the original, and will be allowed to tell the complete story."

Which leads me to think, but you can't judge if something is good without seeing it. Except none of this is about whether it's good, I just find myself wondering what are the odds it's worth the effort? They're low, and it has nothing to do with whether or not it's even any good on its own merits.

Following this, I ask myself, what would a good version of this be. Imagine you are making a live action series with eight hour long episodes per season based on a children's cartoon with 20 thirty minute episodes per season. You are trying to encompass a story which was presented over three seasons as a cartoon, and you do not know if you will have more than those eight episodes. It's made for Netflix which, in terms of a company which will protect the hard earned fruits of your artistic labor, is the fox guarding the henhouse. What do you do?

If you are looking to make something good, that respects your audience investment and your own work, you make radical changes to the story. You change the pacing, the character arcs, the plot arcs. You make sure you deliver a complete story in those episodes with as much respect for the original work and as many new ideas as you can.

Except, at that point, what is even the point of a remake. The only way to work with it is either to trust Netflix allowing you to finish the story (which you'd need to be incredibly naive to do), or tell a story so different it may as well be wholly original. And that's where I always end up. Like, it'll probably be fine, but what's the point of it all? Another vanishing digital property to get canceled because of some undefinable failure to return on investment.

I think about it a lot because the two ends of the spectrum seem to be "dunk on every new piece of information" or "wait and see" but the only conclusion I can ever reach is "why even care?" That's been the lesson to take home from digital streaming in general when it comes to series, but Netflix in particular, and honestly for movie series too. If it can't be self contained, the companies who produce and release these kinds of series just cannot be trusted with it, and there are too many good original stories being put out to care anymore about big budget promises that one day they will definitely for sure deliver a finished story, this time for real.

I care enough to think about why I don't feel anything at all about Netflix Avatar. It'll be fine, whatever else. Just fine.

#netflix avatar

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vaguely-concerned · 1 month

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Ever since watching The Wire for the first time, my brain has doggedly kept working away at the Especially the lies of it all, and specifically at how much the structure beneath the different stories Garak tells contributes to the overall meaning of what he’s trying to say. While the contradicting narratives of course expertly obscure the factual circumstances of his getting exiled, using them also allows him to tell aspects and facets of the emotional truth I don’t think he ever could have, if he’d simply told the actual story of what happened. (It’s very Varric-core of him honestly.)

The first story — the ‘oh, you think you know me?’ story — says I have done things that would sicken you if you knew any detail of it. It’s clearly meant to scare Bashir away so he’ll leave him to die shamefully in peace already lol. But it’s also one of his (probably much-needed lbr) little lessons to Julian that are so frequent in the beginning, given while Garak still has some hold on himself — “Don’t be so quick to forgive me if you don’t even know what I’ve done; what would you do if this really were the sum total of what I am?” (And Julian seems to surprise him by going ‘Well, exactly the same thing, because no matter who you are I am a doctor. But I sort of take your point.’)

The second story — the letting the orphans go story — says I have failed to smother my soul in its cradle when it was required of me, and I regret that more than anything I’ve done. To my ears this is the one most shot through with active self-loathing too, which is interesting. He’s officially lost the control he’s been clinging to and it’s about to get ugly. His TL;DR is ‘Sentiment is the greatest weakness of all’, even all the way back here. (Which is the one lesson Julian steadfastly refuses to learn, which I think in turn does some serious rearrangement of Garak’s soul over the course of the show haha. Get uno reversed into the process of loving and being loved without shame asshole.) This is also where he builds up to admitting to having any sort of need for companionship or closeness at all and — so much worse — that Julian’s role in his life actually has fulfilled some of that need, and he’s DRIPPING with defensive venom over it b/c well I get it Garak vulnerability is scary it can take a person like that.

(I also feel there’s something honest and forbidden in ‘Suddenly the whole exercise seemed utterly meaningless’. I suspect ‘actually… why the fuck are we even doing this???’ is not a welcome sentiment in an Obsidian Order water cooler environment, no matter what you’re saying it about lmao. The very first seeds of him deconstructing the things he’s been taught about Cardassia and his work might be hinted at here, though they of course take a looong time to come to any real fruition.)

The third story — the ‘Elim was my best friend’ story — says hey, remember that thing you said once, about how sometimes, you have to be loyal to yourself before you can be loyal to anything else? Well. guess what. I couldn’t even be that lmao. It also furthers that thread of being divided from yourself, split, that having ‘Elim’ as a separate person around in all versions of the story brings in. He’s in control of himself again, but he essentially hands his life and soul over to Julian to decide what should be done with them.

I’ve done horrible things and it finally caught up with me, I’m getting what I deserve → I let sentiment master me and the fact that I’m too weak to do what’s needed of me shames me more than the evil I’ve done → I fucked up. I betrayed myself and everything I held to, all for nothing, and I have no one to blame for it but myself. But it’s very nice that you’re here anyway, Doctor. (Wow. I didn’t realize quite how isolated and lonely that last one was before right now. The way Tain has shaped him really has just… locked him completely into himself, huh.) We can also see a movement through from a completely professional context in the first story, to an intensely interpersonal and internal context in the last one — even his fake stories spiral in towards intimacy, which I think is what he longs for here even if he can’t quite like. Touch that without the stories as a buffer yet, it’s clearly like touching a hot stove for him to interact with it too directly.

And you know what I find incredibly interesting the whole way through? Even on his deathbed, where he’s dying from the thing Tain had put in his head, he’s protecting Tain. He puts all the blame for where he is on himself (‘My future was limitless, until I threw it away’), even if he has to employ a strange twisty logic where he’s split himself into two to do it. Don’t get me wrong, Garak has done horrific things all on his own haha, but it’s notable that he almost isolates Tain from that. ‘Tain was the Obsidian Order. Not even the Central Command dared challenge him. And I was his right hand.’ Tain in Garak’s stories is this infallible implacable weirdly distant figure, even now. Indeed, as will make a lot of sense with the revelations further down the line, more than anything it seems the gaze of an abused child desperate for recognition looking up at an idealized (if not in any way nurturing) parent.‘He was retired at that point; he couldn't protect me’, Garak says, as if what he’d need protection from in the first place isn’t Tain himself lmao, as if Tain had no active part in any of this. He never lets blame touch Tain at all. At this stage he would rather consider himself a broken flawed tool than accept that the hands that have wrought and wielded him have ever had any fault in them. AND in the middle of it all, with plausible deniability, on death’s door and knocking meekly to be let in before he must finish the mortifying ordeal of being known and test the even more daunting possibility of being loved, Garak at the same time manages to drop the breadcrumb trail of clues to make it possible for Julian to find Tain if he so chooses and gets in the ‘sons of Tain’ thing too for future dramatic irony purposes. Truly he is the Michelangelo of lying. Every falsehood a multifaceted masterpiece. Elim ‘achieving a state of intertextuality in real life is possible if you work hard and believe in yourself’ Garak. I love him so much.

I think all of this is why “I forgive you. For whatever it is you did,” works so well, because it too works on a structural level. It’s such a deceptively multilayered response — it has the syntax of a joke, in a way, and it is kind of funny even under the circumstances, but delivered with such earnest warmth and fondness. It’s both recognition and acceptance (forgiveness!). It’s saying ‘I finally understand enough of what you’re trying to tell me beneath and through all that, in whatever way you’re capable of, I see you’ and ‘my answer hasn’t changed (bitch)’. The forgiveness Julian offers here is complete — on principle, and out of personal feeling and empathy (only one of which Garak deigns to respond to during the second story, where he calls it ‘smug Federation sympathy’, placing it more completely on the principle side than it probably is. ‘Dude you’re my friend please don’t just lie down and die in a completely avoidable way on me, who else is going to not only tolerate but actually gleefully enjoy me being annoying as fuck over lunch’ seems to be the subtext that’s a lot harder to acknowledge and invite in for both of them. And yet Tain seems perfectly clear on the fact that Julian is Garak’s friend, which, y’know. Must be fun living with the knowledge that Tain has eyes everywhere looming over you every day haha guess you’d just have to tune that out.)

Most of all — ’Don’t give up on me now, Doctor’... and he didn’t! He didn’t. Augh. Ow.

#garashir #elim garak #julian bashir #star trek ds9 #ds9 #star trek #ds9 meta #S2EP22 The Wire #alternate title: baby's first brush with unconditional love through unreliable narration lol #I'm not sure I got to say everything I want to in this/found the exact right words in places or hit all the nuances #but god help me I so desperately need this out of my brain to free up some disc space so go forth little meta haha be free #I'm sure I'll come back to you in time #meta #enabran tain #(derogatory)

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icaruspendragon · 8 months

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someone asks me my favorite show and i have to tell them it’s supernatural, much to my chagrin.

we get to talking and they find out that i have a near encyclopedic knowledge of it. i can recite the names of the episodes in the first six seasons from memory. i didn’t even try to learn that for the worlds lamest party trick. i’ve just seen them enough that it’s floating around in my noggin. i have the dialogue for entire scenes memorized. entire episodes, even. yet again, accidentally learned from repeated watchings. i know about the actors. i’ve met the actors. i know about the cast and crew. i know timelines and theories and why this went that way. i have characters and quotes (both from the show and fanfic) tattooed on my body. one of the things i’m best know for to an audience of 370k+ online is my passion surrounding this show and its characters. this hypothetical person says “you must be a real big fan.”

and i am. i love this stupid little show that’s objectively not very good with its silly little characters that i love so much it often keeps me up at night.

and you wanna know what always surprises the hypothetical person in these hypothetical conversations that are an amalgamation of real conversations i’ve had with real people the most? it’s not how much i know about the show or what it represented to me in my adolescence or even my love for the characters.

it’s the fact that i haven’t seen the last five seasons.

that i haven’t finished the show.

i started watching in 2013 and stopped in 2015. i didn’t pick it back up again in earnest until early 2022. i’ve been rewatching since then and despite watching it literally every single day, i’ve only made it to the end of season eight in my rewatch.

there’s always some form of indignation on the other party’s behalf. and they always ask me “why? if you love it so much, why not watch all of it?”

and the answer is simple.

because i don’t want to.

i know what happens. i was online nov 5th 2020. i know how it ends. and i don’t want it to end. i don’t like the ending. so i’m not gonna make myself watch something i know is just going to make me upset.

and does that mean i’m less of a fan?

spoiler alert: the answer is “no.”

despite what other people and fans alike like to say, it doesn’t make me less of a fan. just like watching the show in its entirety doesn’t make them more of a fan.

fandom allows for flexibility of enjoyment. and that’s what i’m in fandom to do.

enjoy.

to enjoy the same thing with people who enjoy the same thing as me. to share my joy with these people.

so no. you’re not less of a fan or more of a fan for consuming media a certain way.

if you enjoy something, you’re a fan.

and if you’re a fan, there’s a place in fandom for you.

#fandom #fanfic #can you believe people have literally said that ‘i’m not a real fan’ of hit cw monstrosity supernatural?#bc they have said that #but this ain’t a competition #and i’m not trying to win #so i’m gonna enjoy my media how i wanna enjoy it #and if i wanna enjoy it by living in a bubble of delusion?#that’s what i’m gonna do !! :)#it’s my escapism and i can do what i want!!

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 month

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so, i’m currently taking a west civics class in college, and i am currently researching ancient greek civilizations, most notably, the arts and culture of ancient greece. i know you have written a fic based on its mythological stories, with minotaur könig (bless your beautiful soul).

but through my readings, i couldn’t help but come up with such a dirty daydreams while in class. i couldn’t stop myself from thinking about könig and… the ancient olympics…

i know, realistically speaking, women were not allowed to attend or watch these games for the most part. so, in a universe where könig’s dedication not only falls upon him being a top man, but being the perfect man in honor of being recognized by the god of strength himself, he becomes so enticing in the way he trains and readies himself for such a significant event of his life. he’s never really had much to care for, neither does he need to prioritize anything that isn’t him or his training. he’s a workhorse, nothing stopping him from being the best, most valuable follower of zeus. that is… until…

well, it was your fault, and you admit that, but he wasn’t stopping you either. i mean, who could blame you, this little thing sneaking and peeping at a man who’s at work in order to provide to cute women like yourself. in fact, you argue that this was your way of appreciating a man, to observe them in their element in such a loving gaze. it didn’t help that könig was a man who preferred to train naked too, in all his glory, so of course there was no missing you, you were just too obvious for a man like him to notice you.

and with every grunt he’d give after each swing of a fist or a blade, a mew is what you’d give in return, your own form of a cheer for him to keep going. and you promised you didn’t mean to stare and make distracting noises, but an innocent maiden like yourself was just too hypnotized by this new anatomy that was found between this man’s legs. so outspoken, so dirty for your mouth to spew such beautiful filth to a stranger.

was this könig’s new test of endurance? part of the program to make him stronger for the olympic event that was just around the corner. he has heard man advising others to refrain from sex before the games, but he hadn’t even been given the chance to work on that since no one was bold enough to approach him like you did. he wonders, does fucking before a game really make a man weak, does thinking about shoving his big dumb cock in his soon-to-be wife distract him too much to succeed? perhaps, perhaps not, one thing he does know though, he’s got someone else to honor and worship, which makes his training all the more necessary.

Oh my god….. I’m totes not getting caught up in the fact that women were not allowed to participate in these activities….

This led me to think, what if some misbehaving little creature decided to peep at this Hercules reborn? She gets caught one day, but because she’s absolutely carefree and unhinged, she asks König if he could show her how to train.

CW: Nudity, implied sexism/misogyny (Ancient Greek society thang), teasing König to the point where he gets a boner and growls

Our Olympian hero gets so confused that he forgets he was supposed to report you or throw you out of the gym. Outside, where birds fly free and the sun tortures the trainees, he has picked a spot where he can train in solitude and silence: for some reason, other people’s stares make him uncomfortable… Until this curious, sweet little nymph came around, perched atop a wide rock, munching some wild mountain herb as she watched him train.

He allowed her to watch him train for two days, but on the third, he marched over to her and told her she needs to leave. Women are not allowed here, doesn’t she know that? Where are her parents? Does she have a husband?

No, no husband, and her parents don’t really care what she does. Well, this explains why she’s behaving this way. Running around the hillside so untame, watching men train—can’t she see she’s putting herself in danger? Any one of these men could decide to just take her on the barren land if she’s not careful.

She just giggles and asks, would he like to take her? Then points out that men shouldn’t waste their seed before a big competition. Also, Zeus’s wife would not think well of him if she saw him rut innocent women on the hill... There’s nothing but heaven above them, surely someone would see. The gods could curse him with a weak ankle, or a sprained muscle, a failing heart or a snake bite…

“All right, all right, that’s enough,” he says, but there’s even worse to come.

Next, she asks if he could show her how to lift those smaller rocks, how to throw a javelin or a discus. Could he teach her how to wrestle…?

“Absolutely not,” he scoffs while his groin floods with warmth at the thought of wrestling with this pretty, wonton woman. She’s absolutely disgraceful, and yet, he doubts she’s running from man to man, teasing them to death. She’s not begging to get raped, she’s just… a little gullible, or something. Happened to take interest in him, little thing. As she should, after all, he’s the pride of this city...

“You fear I’ll become better than you?” She asks with little stars in her stare.

“Bah. Don’t be ridiculous...”

They’re both smiling, now. This kind of banter and games he has never experienced with a lady, she’s making him extremely uncomfortable and at the same time, fly high like Icarus. He’ll have to be careful he doesn’t get burned…

When he still refuses to show her how to train, she shrugs and goes over to the wooden javelin that’s taller than her. Picking it up, he expects the gods to smite her down with a sudden hail or thunder, but nothing happens. The sun keeps on shining, and the sheep keep on baaing. She weighs it with two hands, then starts to look for a spot to try and throw it.

“Wait,” he calls after her, but she only looks back at him with a smile. Picks off to run, with the javelin securely in her right hand, she runs like a deer while he lumbers after her, completely perplexed.

Insufferable woman… He’s growing hard from the cock as he runs, somehow aroused by this silly chase. Like Apollo trying to court Daphne, but his Daphne is not meek and unwilling; she’s giggling as he huffs and runs after her like a stumbling giant.

At a distant field of nothing but rock and weather-beaten flowers, she stops. Shields her eyes as she looks for a perfect spot, she’s not even breathless when he finally catches her. She turns around to look at her hero, catching his breath in the sun.

“You’re not fit enough for a marathon,” she comments. “Did you lift too many weights?”

“Give me the javelin,” he pants, dismissing her blunt analysis of his weaknesses. Stepping towards her, he extends his hand, offering her a chance to return it to him without fuss.

“Wrestle it from me,” she smiles, so playfully and brightly that his cock suffers another throb.

Gods damn this woman... She’s toying, playing with him, teasing him to the point where he’s left no choice.

He doesn’t want to hurt her, which means the “wrestling” becomes an awkward battle of snickers and limbs. His cock gets in the way, and to an outsider, this might look like a scene of an oddly gentle, upcoming rape… This little minx is giving him such an ache in his head and his loins that he’s gritting his teeth by the time he gets his hands around the wooden spear. By then, she has her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms above her head as she’s lying on her back with him on top of her.

“I’m not letting go,” she laughs as they both hold the spear, his erection now blissfully trapped between her legs.

“Who sent you,” he grunts, head spinning as he tries to figure out which of the gods is trying to give him trouble this time.

“What do you mean…?”

“You’re here to thwart and tease me. Tell me who sent you, now.”

“You think I’m sent by some angry god?”

Her eyes sparkle even more, if possible. She even giggles under him and under the sun, her laugh like a thousand little bells in his ears.

“That’s so cute…!”

His grunts turn into a hollow, painful growl – even Tartaros is better than this.

“Train me, and I’ll let you have your silly javelin,” she smiles, even licking her lips before they purse together innocently.

But he knows she’s far from innocent. She has to be a curse of some sort, a plight sent here to torment him, because he finds himself sighing, “Alright…”

He gives her one condition: she has to wear clothes; no flaunting herself around him and especially not around the other men if they were to ever see her. They will both get flogged or worse if this mockery comes to daylight… She gives him a soft, adoring smile this time, and says of course, whatever he says.

The next day, she’s waiting for him at the training grounds, javelin in her hands…

Completely, utterly naked.

#könig x reader #könig x you #silliness #torturing könig #we all know how this will end so i don't have to write a full fic for it right ^^

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wonder2realities · 1 month

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having trouble with manifesting physical results?

when it comes to manifestation, i feel like everyone acts like theres a limit and usually that limit revolves around physical changes. "you cant lose weight unless you work out AND listen to subliminals, you have to put in the work!!!" — what if i were to tell you that you can manifest literally any physical change without even moving? you probably wouldnt believe me because of the idea that you need to "work" to earn something...and yet with all of the physical changes i've manifested, i havent "worked" for anything. how? here's a little list of the rules i stick by !

1. SHAMELESSNESS IS KEY!

i'm someone who gets embarrassed very easily, over the smallest things but when it comes to manifesting anything...you gotta be shameless. yes i am waking up with a BBL and a 2-inch waist, what about it. you can pull up to my house, with scientific evidence of how thats not possible but idc cuz its happening. infact, it ALREADY happened "but you look the same" idc it still happened. like literally, no matter what its happening and its happened and it will happen ; whether it be past future or present point is ITS THERE.

2. YOU ARE ENERGY, NOT YOUR BODY

this ones a bit hard to word out but essentially, your physical body doesnt make up what you are. meaning, you can view yourself as this ball of energy that can be stretched and pulled out and morphed into everything and anything.

so lets say you want a symmetrical face :

1. dont go overanalysing your face, just sit down & take it easy

2. think of how your symmetrical face that youve always had. i mean you could honestly be a model, your facial structure is amazing. and just allow yourself to sink into those thoughts, whether its through you repeating affirmations or through subliminals — let it all sink in that your face is symmetrical. having doubtful thoughts? let them fly past, dont cling onto them. just allow yourself to sink deeper into the fact that your face is perfectly symmetrical.

3. acknowledge it and live with it. dont go eyeing your mirror and reflection every 2 seconds, dont go panicking and repeating affirmations nonstop and stressing...just acknowledge it and go on with your day.

^ its that easy. you dont need to even see your physical body morphing into it, the point is that you are able to morph and change into whatever you wish because you are not limited to your physical body.

3. NO OVERCOMPLICATIONS

you dont need to do a 40 minute workout to make sure you get results, you dont need to drink 3L of water, you dont need to write down 500 affirmations, you dont need to do a 20step skincare routine if you want to make sure you get clear skin...if you want to do these things, do them as much as you wish to. do you have to? no.

when i was younger, i got a bad injury and because of that one of my cheekbones were larger than the other — through manifestation they look identical now. like as in, if i were to tell you the injury i got into and said "my cheekbone was larger and there was a huge line under it" youd think i was making it up (sidenote : i had to show someone my passport photo from when i was like 8 to prove that i had that injury 😭 CUZ THEY DIDNT BELIEVE ME.) and mind you, i didnt even have a routine - my routine was literally just playing cute subliminals , vibing to the music and then going to sleep. i promise you, you dont need to do any form of "work" to get what you desire.

4. GO WITH YOUR GUT

probably the most important thing i stick by, i always go with my gut. meaning, if i feel like i can listen to a 5 second subliminal and i got it - i leave it there. i dont force anything, i dont push myself into anything and i dont do anything that someone else does if it doesnt vibe well with me. (this also means if youre reading this and going "this doesnt really work with me" - thatll be better than you forcing yourself to follow these rules just because these have worked for me). you need to always remember that when it comes to manifesting things, your preference comes first. so, if you wanna run 5 miles and that helps you believe that you have gotten your desires - do it.

5. DONT LET OTHERS GET TO YOU

if youre minding your business and youre talking abt your desires and someone goes "erm...🤓👆🏽 thats...not possible" - instead of secondguessing yourself literally ignore them. the concept of whats possible and whats real all boils down to what you BELIEVE is possible/real. the only reason something could not be possible or not be real is you believe it isnt, or you letting someone else who doesnt believe in it take over your beliefs (obviously this specifically applies to manifestation and not things that are tied to disorders or any form of unhealthy thinking. dont take my words out of this context.)

and thats all ! obviously i have other parts of my mindset that arent mentioned here that help me manifest faster and easier but it would take too long for me to get into everything </3 but consider these my 5 golden rules that will hopefully help anyone whos struggling with physical results.

rmbr that you are forever limitless & changing ★

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nocaptainonthisship · 5 months

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This morning, I unfollowed my third person in as many months for complaining about their ao3 engagement, and I regret nothing.

The moment I allow myself to start thinking about how many people are reading my work over how much joy I bring into a space, the quality of my writing goes down the drain. And seeing this kind of thing from people who I share a fandom with(thereby knowing the degree to which their last fic outpaced the sum total of my last three by hits) makes me a bit crazy. Because I don't want to be the kind of author who obsesses over status! I want to write stories I'm proud of, and that bring me joy. If someone out there likes them, that's great! But it can't be what drives me.(Notice how I'm really driving this point home for myself, because it is HARD not to fall into this trap and I am trying to do better.)

But I see people complain about the hits or the kudos or the comments, ESPECIALLY in relation to other authors(again, a callout for me specifically- I'm trying to do better!) We're not in competition with each other, babes. We're on the same team! We like the same show/movie/ship(s)! Just because you play tight end and I'm a kicker doesn't mean we aren't wearing the same jersey. By using stats as the marker for your success, you are wildly underselling the value of what you made. With nothing but a little inspiration, your imagination and likely a fair bit of caffeine, you created a story that is entirely your own. That is an incredible achievement on its own. Did one person tell you it meant something to them? I'm so glad you found each other. Two? How lucky you are to have been able to touch people's lives. Three feels like the sweet spot- perfect number for a virtual happy hour to scream in the group chat about headcanons.

Point being, I guess- you owe me nothing! If you want to read my fic and leave me a comment, I would love that. Comments and kudos and all of that do bring me joy. Don't want to comment? Totally fine! You owe me nothing. Don't want to read what I write? Also totally okay! You owe me nothing.

Now, here's what I owe to myself- the peace of mind that comes from not playing the comparison game, and protecting myself by not allowing in voices who are at odds with that aim.

(As a final note, if you want to complain about "cool in groups" in fandom I have excellent news: no one is cool! We're all a bunch on mangy nerds. Please say hi! Or don't! You owe me nothing.)

#much love and many platonic kisses to you all #filed under: cap shouts into the void; the void says 'oh god not you too'

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yourejinx · 10 months

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Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. Violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, curse words. Not proof read.

word count: 4k+.

Author’s note: I’m sorry I’m so late with this. I don’t even know what to say anymore, thank you for keeping up with me.

CHAPTER FOUR.

“It’s alright, just breathe,”

There’s warmth against my forehead, and the words are a soft breath against my skin. I feel like every bone in my body has locked me into place, a prison, and I can’t move, I can’t breathe.

The dark pit that has opened in my gut threatens to devour me whole and I recognise its numbness. It’s beckoning me to let go, to embrace it. A gentle, soothing touch at my back it’s the only thing that’s keeping me anchored to reality, red and gold it’s all I’ve been staring at for what feels like an eternity.

“Easy, dove.”

Cassian. Cassian is here. He’s enveloped me with his wings into a cocoon, a shelter against the world, his forehead is pressed against mine and he keeps rubbing circles between my shoulderblades. Some distant sense of self is returning to me, barely enough for me to turn my head and look at him. Dark hazel eyes stare back at me and the similarity to that other pair of eyes makes it almost unbearable to keep looking at them, my chest aches and I want to pull away. But Cass holds firm, strong hands holding my arms as he inhales deeply, motioning me to follow.

I took one pathetic shuddering breath, two. My racing heart started to slow down and cool air flowed to my lungs.

“There you go…” He hummed.

Once I’m settled back into myself and my limbs don’t feel nearly as stiff as before, he slowly pulls away, allowing me to take in my surroundings. We’ve moved to the balcony outside one of the guest rooms, somehow. When did he even show up?

“Rhys called me, and told me what happened. How are you feeling?” His voice was so full of concern.

I shook my head, how could I put it into words? Was this what he felt every time Nesta slept with someone else? Was this what Rhys felt while Feyre was still with Tamlin? I knew Azriel fancied Elain, and I knew it was reciprocated. So why did it hurt so much to see it now?

“Cass, he’s my—”

Mate. The word burned on my tongue. I couldn’t pronounce it.

With each time I thought about it, the word lost a bit more of its meaning. I damned the Cauldron and the Mother for mating us; it was supposed to be something special, something that didn’t happen to most Fae, and if it did you were one lucky bastard. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard. But for me? It meant nothing. The bond only brought me pain and unrequited feelings, unwanted feelings.

“I know, Rhys knows too,” he whispered.

“How?” I asked, blinking away the dampness in my eyes.

“It doesn’t matter now, dove, I need to know if you’re going to be ok” His eyes

were so gentle, so understanding.

I swallowed dry and nodded slowly. I remembered then that Lucien was looking for me and guilt tripped up my spine. How was I supposed to tell him what I saw?

“Cass, where is Lucien?”

“I told him you weren’t feeling right and sent him home. He left something for you.” Cassian handed me a carefully wrapped package. For the looks of it, it was either a box or a book.

“I have to talk to him.”

I tore open the envelope, it was an old beautiful book, brown and gold and red. “Myths of the world” read the title, the author unknown. I hadn’t seen anything like this before. It didn’t belong to Prythian, this book came from the mortal lands.

Lucien saw this book during one of his journeys, and thought of me. My heart felt heavy in my chest just thinking about the hurt I was going to cause him by speaking the truth about tonight.

“You can’t tell him anything, Y/N;” Cassian’s tone was considerate yet firm. I frowned.

“If it was the other way around he would tell me, Cass. He’s my friend…”

“I’m your friend too, and I understand, but I’m asking you to wait. Please, let Rhys handle this or it can get really messy.”

“Things are already too messy.”

With trembling fingers I dive between the first pages, it was a little worn around the edges but well kept, surely a loved book. One particularly page caught my attention, it had dedicatory written in very polished handletter:

“I don’t know if there’s proof of other worlds coexisting out there, but I hope you may find exciting ones within these stories.”

More often than not, Lucien caught me late at night curled around the fireplace, a blanket thrown lazily over my legs and nose buried deep in some book about portals to other worlds, myths and legends, the old history and so and so. That sort of thing that has always called to me since I was a kid, more than curiosity I felt a pull towards it, as if I could feel the history of the universe in my veins. I never told anyone about it before, it seemed silly, I didn’t have proof of anything, it was more like a sense of the otherworldly. I felt ancient and new, vast and empty, all at the same time. The last time I experienced something like that Feyre had still been pregnant with Nyx, I remember feeling like my mind had been split for a moment, allowing me to experience reality both through my own person and through someone or something else’s eyes. I ended up throwing up that night, and Azriel had found me passed out on the floor of the living room. No one asked any questions, but Lucien had noticed.

I sighed and closed the book, returning my attention to the worried-looking Illyrian in front of me. “He’ll hate me if he finds out and I knew all along. I can’t have him hate me, Cass.”

I can’t have him hate me too.

“He won’t hate you dove, that’s just impossible”.

I shook my head, “Can you just take me home please?”

“Of course,” He didn’t hesitate to scoop me up in his arms and take to the skies.

The wind whipped through the night sky as Cassian soared gracefully, his wings beating rhythmically against the air currents. Beside him, I clung tightly to his muscular frame, my grip tightened unconsciously with each passing moment. The journey back to the House of Wind was filled with a heavy silence, as I wrestled with the weight of my thoughts and emotions.

Finally, the grand structure came into view, perched majestically atop the cliffs. Cassian gently landed, his powerful wings folding behind him as he turned to face me. His cobalt eyes searched mine, brimming with concern and curiosity. He paused, probably sensing the turmoil underneath, and waited patiently for me to find the courage to speak.

With a heavy sigh, I took a step back and looked up at the towering residence. "Cassian," I started, voice tinged with a mix of determination and sadness, "I’m leaving the court. I've made a decision... I'm going to accept Helion's offer."

Cassian's brow furrowed, a mixture of surprise and worry crossing his features. He reached out, his hand finding mine in a reassuring grip. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You know the risks involved, the dangers that lie beyond our borders. The Night Court is your home, with friends who care for you."

My gaze followed the distant horizon, already feeling that curl of longing and uncertainty in my gut. "I understand the risks, Cass," I replied softly. "But I can't ignore the chance to make a difference, to find my own path and discover who I truly am, what I could do. I've always felt like I'm in the shadow of others, and maybe... maybe this is my opportunity to shine."

Cassian's grip on my hand tightened, his voice filled with earnestness. "You don't need to leave to find your purpose. You have friends here who believe in you, who will stand by your side no matter what. We can face the challenges together, as a family."

Tears welled in my eyes as conflicting emotions tugged at my heart. I wanted to believe in the strength of these bonds, in the safety and comfort of the Night Court. But a flicker of determination remained, whispering promises of self-discovery and growth. I looked back at Cassian, voice trembling but resolute. "I love you Cass, and I’m deeply grateful for everything the Night Court and all of you have given me, but I have to do this. Please understand."

Cassian's gaze softened, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that escaped my eye. He took a deep breath, his voice filled with unwavering support. "If this is truly what you want, then I won't stand in your way. But remember, you will always have a home in the Night Court, we will be here for you whenever you need us. And I can still kick Azriel’s ass for you."

He joked and a small smile broke through my lips despite the anguish. “I don’t want him to know, let’s just keep this between us for now, alright? I’ll tell Rhys tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He whispered and brushed a kiss to my temple.

We just stood there for a moment, embraced by the cool night breeze, letting all the events of the night sink in.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week later.

The frozen landscape stretched endlessly before our eyes, a harsh and unforgiving terrain that mirrored the tensions between me and the Shadow Singer. The mission to track down the slavers had brought us to this desolate place, where the biting cold seemed to seep into our very souls. Yet, it was the icy atmosphere between us that threatened to shatter the fragile alliance.

We hadn’t spoken a word since last Solstice’s party, and I hadn’t seen him around either. I still couldn’t shake the weight of that awful look he gave me that night, it didn’t help that he looked on the verge of ripping my head off. I just didn’t understand, we were sort of alright at some point and then he just went back to hating me, as if some switch had gone off inside of him.

As we trudged through the snow, our breath crystallizing in the frigid air, the silence grew heavy with unspoken accusations. I just couldn't bear the weight of Azriel's distrust any longer, it was making me anxious and angry. Whatever it was that got him so mad at me I didn’t deserve it, and we couldn’t keep working like that.

With each step, the tension escalated, until it reached a breaking point. Finally, unable to contain my frustration, I turned to face him, my voice came out laced with a mix of fury and hurt that I didn’t intend. "If you have something to say, just say it already and be done with this stupid silent treatment."

Azriel's expression hardened, his hazel eyes flashing with a mix of regret and stubbornness. "Why? so you can run and snitch to Rhys about it?"

My hands balled into fists, body trembling with indignation. "What the hell does that mean?” I hissed.

“You know what it means. I seriously thought about giving you a chance, that I may have judged you wrong. Then I turn around and you pull the bullshit you did on Solstice. I didn’t think you could stood so low as to drag Elain into this mess.”

“What bullshit? What are you even on about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you called Rhys on us. Are you going to tell me that it was all a coincidence? That you just happened to walk right into the room I was in with Elain, and Rhysand followed you? I see the way you look at her, are you really that envious?”

A humorless laugh escaped my lips, anger boiling in my veins. “Is this what got you so pissed? You are a bigger asshole than I thought. I didn’t even know you were in there, even less that you were with her. Do you think I give a fuck about who you’re fucking?You're always so quick to judge, to assume the worst of me. You know what? I'm done. Fuck you, Azriel!"

“You’re a cunning bitch, ever so observant, ready to pry into other people’s business; lying is like breathing for you, so why should I believe you? Why else would you happen to be there? Every time something goes wrong you’re in the middle of it!”

“Oh don’t try to blame me for your fuck ups, you dug that hole yourself. We were there because we were looking for you, because I wanted to give you this.” I shoved the little black box against his chest, hard. I had been carrying it with me since that night, its weight had been unbearable. “Happy Solstice, Azriel.” I spat with irony.

He just stood there, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his anger at bay, eyes glued to the object now lying in his hands.

Silence engulfed us once again as the bitter wind whistled through the barren landscape. Our breaths mingled with the frosty air, hanging between us like an unbridgeable chasm.

“What is this?” he finally dared to ask, his voice cold and calm, distant but not nearly as angry as before.

I cursed the slight tremor of vulnerability and turned away, already feeling a headache forming. "You can throw it away if you want, I don’t care. I’m going to scout the land, don’t follow me. And keep your shadows to yourself." My own voice came out barely above a whisper.

With that, I stormed off, leaving Azriel standing alone amidst the frozen wasteland. The ache of the fractured connection between us weighed heavily on my heart, mingling with the anguish of this mission and the bitter chill of the land. There was really no hope for us, to believe we could be friends again…that had been a foolish mistake.

For a long while I walked and walked and walked, there had been no sign of any other living creature in hours. The night was starting to grow heavy and the cold unforgiving, I could barely see anything beyond the frozen forest, the small faelight I brought with me doing little to light up the path but I couldn’t risk giving away my position. It felt like I had been walking around in circles, never finding the exit to the forest. I could’ve sworn I passed the same twisted tree four times now, it looked like a giant claw tearing open the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have left on my own. I had a bad feeling about this, it was all strangely silent.

Just as I spotted a clearing, a familiar scent caught my attention. I haven’t felt that in nearly two centuries, but I remembered it like it was yesterday, sweet and strong and dangerous. My heart dropped to my stomach, and dread spread along my spine. It couldn’t be. He was dead. I had killed him.

All my alarms went off almost immediately, I turned the faelight off and walked as slowly, as silent as a wrath towards the clearing. I had to squint my eyes to adjust to night vision, avoiding the branches and bigger patches of snow. A dim light appeared on the other side of the woods, floating beside a big shadow. As I came closer I could make the shape of wings, huge membranous wings. I wouldn’t mistake those wings in a thousand years.

“Azriel?” I asked, low. Not entirely giving away my location still inside the forest’s safety.

His back was turned to me, and he was standing predatorily still. A glimpse of metal flashed in the dim moonlight, Truth Teller was clutched tightly in his right hand, something dark and sticky dropping to the snow. Blood. The copper tang of it hit my nose a second later. It smelled like him. Was he hurt?

I scanned the land beyond him, searching for the threat. If I had scented it earlier, probably he did too and found them sooner than I did.

“Azriel was going on?” I tried again, walking closer.

Past the shadows that engulfed him a figure lay on the ground, they were kneeling. There was so much more blood around them it was hard to tell if they were still alive. Whoever that was.

I stepped beside him, my own blade in hand, ready to strike if needed be. But what struck me was the sight in front of me, Azriel was kneeling on the frozen ground, wings dropped and bloodied, a gag was pulled tight against his mouth and his eyes were wide, desperate. He grew wild when he saw me, thrashing against an invisible barrier. I turned around, confused and alarmed. The Shadow Singer stared back at me, a sinister smile tugging at his mouth and he launched forward, shoving the blade between my ribs.

The Azriel on the ground tried to scream against the gag, eyes glazed over with rage. I wanted to reach him, free him from his restraints, but I couldn’t move. The male in front of me twisted the knife still inside my flesh and I let out a cry of pain. It burned like hell and I felt myself starting to get dizzy. Faebane, for sure.

Hazel eyes turned darker than the night itself, and that pretty face morphed into something half beautiful, half monstrous. Brutal and scarred. I watched in horror as the male of my nightmares appeared in front of me. Demian, Kier’s first born son, alive and here.

“Did you miss me, wife?” He purred into my ear.

“RHYS! RHYS!” I tried to desperately call for the High Lord, but the mental channels between us felt distant, my voice sounded like an echo traveling through a never ending tunnel.

I tried to take a step back but the world started to blur into darkness quickly. The last thing I saw was Demian’s monstrous face smiling down at me.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel.

The cavern was shrouded in darkness, its oppressive air thick with a sense of impending doom. The flickering light cast eerie shadows across the cold stone walls, as his eyes darted around, desperately searching for any means of escape. Azriel had been awake for a while now, heart pounding wildly against his ribcage at the scene in front of him; Y/N struggled against the coarse chains that bound her wrists, barely conscious due to the bloodlost.

He had never felt more helpless and stupid. He should have said something, apologize, go after her, make her stay. Azriel still couldn’t believe he fell into this motherfucker’s illusion, he should have known better. But it had been so real…the look of despair in her face, begging him to save her, as if Demian had known what she looked like, as if he had seen her like that before. Rage boiled in his veins. Oh, once he got free of this invisible prison he was going to kill him, and he was going to take his sweet time doing so.

"Azriel..." she whispered his name, her voice barely audible in the silence. The sound carried a mix of longing and worry, it made something crack inside his chest.

The heavy stone doors groaned open, revealing two figures emerging from the depths of darkness. Demian, a malevolent presence wrapped in darkness, stepped forward with an insidious smile, his eyes glittering with a sinister delight.

Azriel’s shadows were frantic, desperately trying to leak beyond the barrier holding him and reach Y/N, but it was no use. Even his siphons couldn’t break the spell containing him, the strange marks painted on the ground around him seemed to absorb every futile attempt of his power to set him free.

"Ah, Y/N, lovely to see you again", his voice dripping with malice. "We still have some unfinished business, darling."

Y/N narrowed her gaze, refusing to show her fear and spat on his face. “I don’t know how you’re still alive, but you’re as delusional as I remember.”

Demian's laughter echoed through the cavern, chilling her to the bone. In his hand, he brandished a wickedly sharp blade, the metal gleaming with malicious intent.

"Perhaps," he sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "But this time I’ll succeed, you’ll pay for what you’ve done, you and your stupid High Lord. There’s no escaping your fate this time."

A weak groan managed to escape Azriel’s bloody lips, and Y/N's eyes filled with dread as she spotted him, chained to a wall, his body battered and bloodied.

"Azriel!" she cried out, straining against her restraints. "Leave him alone!"

Demian's twisted grin widened, feeding off her anguish and desperation. "Oh, my dear," he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I plan to make him suffer just enough to ensure your compliance."

Tears welled up in her obsidian eyes as she watched Demian approach him, heart breaking at the sight of her mate's pain. Their connection, their bond, was just a whisper of strength and vulnerability.

"Do not yield, Y/N," Azriel's voice reached her, laced with pain but filled with unwavering resolve. "Don't let him break you."

“Enough!” The other presence in the room raised his voice as he approached the light. It was a dark haired male, tall and slim, a bit ungainly. His skin was a sickly grey-ish pale. Y/N’s eyes widened and tears started to flow freely down her cheeks at the sight of him. “Hello, sister. Long time no see.” He smiled wickedly at her as he anxiously played with the blade in his hands.

Azriel could recognise its signature darkness capable of absorbing even the light of the sun anywhere. Truth Teller. The bastard was holding his blade.

“Ajax…” she whispered, almost pleading.

“We thought you had killed yourself. Imagine my surprise when I saw you at war with Hybern,” Ajax let out a humorless chuckle. “tch, father is so disappointed in you, you made mama cry and all for this?” He pointed at Azriel, still fighting to get free. There was something animalistic and ferocious in his eyes as he watched Damien twist the blade into the membrane of his wings.

“Stop! Let him go. This is between me and you, he doesn’t have to be here.”

“Let him go? So you can pull the bullshit you did on your wedding night? I don’t think so. But you wouldn’t dare to do so now, no, you wouldn’t risk hurting your precious Shadow Singer.” He smiled mockingly and slid the sharp edge of Truth Teller along her jaw. “Pitty. You would’ve made such a pretty bride… isn’t that right Demian?”

Demian’s deformed mouth twisted upwards as he looked her up and down, something dangerous darkening his features. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him and ran a thumb over her lips. “You could have been my queen.”

She spat on his face again. “Go to hell.”

Ajax slapped her face. “You’ve always been an ungrateful bitch.”

Wiping his atrocious face clean, Demian stepped forward grabbing Truth Teller from Ajax hands. There was such hatred in their eyes. “Let’s get this over with.” He threw Azriel a wicked grin and slid the sharp edge across Y/N’s wrist.

The Shadow Singer watched with a mix of fury and desperation as the blade cut into her flesh, eliciting a tortured cry from her lips. He felt it too, the pain, as if it was his own flesh being torn open.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Azriel’s threat echoed through the walls of the frozen cave.

They both laughed as they carved similar markings to the ones holding him prisoner into her skin. In her arms, her chest, her legs. She was just a playtoy for them to feed their morbidity.

There was so much blood everywhere. Demian’s filthy mouth closed around one of the wounds, drinking from her. Her blood, her power, her very essence, while Ajax recited something in a tongue Azriel couldn’t understand.

The Shadow Singer saw red. Something primal took over his senses, the urge to protect Y/N was stronger than anything, determination surged through his weakened body, and with every ounce of remaining energy, Azriel fought against his restraints. He summoned whatever hidden reserves of strength he possessed, his determination overriding the debilitating effects of the faebane. Sparks of raw power crackled around him as his unyielding rage fueled his desperate struggle for freedom.

Ajax's full black eyes fell on him, sensing the upcoming battle that was about to be unleashed upon them and slit open Y/N’s other wrist.

“Let’s go, we got what we need” He urged the blonde male beside him.

They retreated, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Y/N and Azriel gasping for breath, their bodies battered and broken.

As Azriel's body trembled with exertion, his relentless efforts finally bore fruit. With a surge of sheer willpower, the invisible barrier shattered like fragile glass, freeing him from its confinements. Gasping for breath, his eyes blazed with a mix of determination and wrath as he surveyed the now empty space where the two males had stood. He would hunt them down, to the ends of the earth if needed, to make them pay for what they’ve done; but first he had to take Y/N to safety.

He turned to face her; the anguish in her eyes mirrored his own, but their connection remained unbroken, he could still feel the sliver of hope amidst the darkness thrumming through that golden thread between their souls.

She held tight onto that bit of sanity left and muttered the words “I’m sorry” over and over again as her body started to give out.

Azriel’s whole body started shaking “No, no, no. Stay with me, I’ll get us out. I swear.”

He rushed to her side, untying her arms and cradling her face. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t winnow and his wings were too damaged to fly. At this point they needed a miracle, he wasn’t a devoted believer in the gods but he would pray to all of them to save her.

They lied there, in the ground, her face was drained of color and the unforgiving cold was not helping.

As if in answer to his silent prayers, the stone doors burst open, revealing the High Lord and the General of the Night Court in a state of utter distress. Azriel didn’t know when he had started crying but he let himself hold onto the tiny bit of hope that they might make it alive.

"Where are they?" Rhysand's voice boomed with unwavering authority, his power shimmering around him.

The shadow singer shook his head, Y/N was slipping away as they talked. “Please save her”

Rhysand rushed to their side, cradling her in his arms. Her heartbeat was too weak, her breathing labored. Azriel’s own consciousness was starting to flicker and he could feel the bond beginning to dim. Panic took over his senses, he started fighting against Cassian’s hold just to get to her.

“Az, it 's ok. We’ll meet them back at the House, she’s going to be fine.” Cassian assured him as he took to the skies.

And he would have believed him if it wasn’t for the exchange of worried looks that transpired between his brothers.

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dream0fschism · 1 year

Note

are your nsfw requests still open? if they are could you do one with könig and medic!reader? the rest is up to you

god i’m such a konig slut

i'm back, my darlings!

PAIRING: König x f!reader

“I’m getting tired of seeing your hooded face, König.”

He never spoke much, a thing not uncommon for men in his field of work. Many preferred the comfortable air that the silence brought, enjoyed how it was such a stark contrast to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, screaming. It made your dingy, makeshift clinic a refreshing stop for most.

But the man in front of you had made trips to your room so frequently you’d figured he must have broken some kind of record. You’d treated gunshot wounds, minor burns, patched up his bloody knuckles countless times… there wasn’t an inch of skin you hadn’t laid your fingers upon. Each time you cared for his cuts or stab wounds, some of which hash-marked atop of old and stubborn scars, it was as if you gathered more intel about his personality otherwise untold.

König was a machine, dangerously dedicated to proving his worth - dangerous for the receiving party, of course - with a willingness to sacrifice as much of his flesh and blood as it takes. If necessary, he would nurse his own injuries, albeit terribly, in favour of granting himself an advantage or winning battles. You recall a few times in which you scolded him for his amateur efforts. “If you cauterise one more wound this terribly I’m going to refuse you of future treatment.”

Of course, he’d remained silent. But you swore you saw the slight crinkle in the skin around his eyes.

And in his dedication you couldn’t help but see a deep insecurity. Sometimes, but only on the rare occasion, he would show up barely alive. He would always be alone, never needing his comrades to waste their energy and strength on carrying him to safety. But you would always worry the most in these situations, when his skin was pale and cold and he still refused to remove his hood. “Anything below here, I can take care of myself,” he’d struggled to grumble out.

If he wasn’t so unbelievably skilled, you’d assume he had a death wish.

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” he answered, the sudden sound of his accented voice gifting you with slight surprise.

“I suppose I’m running out of things to say,” you chuckle, continuing to swab at the dry blood clinging to the skin of his sternum. “And you’re just about running out of unmarked skin.”

“Mm, my gear does seem to be quite useless,” König nods. “Perhaps fighting naked wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

The harmless joke has heat creeping onto your cheeks, and you’re really baffled by your own brain because of it. As if you hadn’t seen ninety-percent of his body already.

“Perhaps not.”

"You are blushing," he notes. "Yet this isn't your first time you've rubbed at my bare skin."

The hand you had placed against him stilled momentarily as his point only intensified the bubbling heat in your face, swelling a ruby-red shade along each of your cheekbones. You continued your aid, with a strict refusal to allow your gaze anywhere else except for his wound.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," König breaks the short silence that followed.

You laugh dryly as your awkwardness fizzles away a little. "You're all finished."

König brushes a hand over the gauze, inspecting your work. When he says nothing, you stand on your feet and gather the used swabs, kicking your wheeled stool to the side to make your way to the bin.

Before the lid had even closed the trash behind it, you felt the warmth of his towering presence at your back. It startled you all the same, a sharp inhale sucking its way through your parted lips.

"I have to ask.. Do you like seeing what's beneath my gear?" He presses each of his long fingers into your shoulder as his hand cups over it.

"Isn't that question a little inappropriate..."

"If I'm crossing a line, then tell me to stop."

You open your mouth to reply, unsure of what exactly you'll say when the hand at your shoulder slowly begins to move. He's agonizingly slow, careful as he explores over the layer of your white button-up, and you feel utterly insane for being unable to use your words and put an end to it.

Instead, you stare blankly at the off-white wall in front of you and allow his hand to roam.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, edging his hand to cup below your right breast. The touch causes you to lean into the tower of his body, a sudden tenderness and sensitivity wracking each nerve in your chest.

"I enjoy coming to see you," he continues, prompted by the way you relax against him. "In fact, I refuse to see anyone else when I'm injured."

It makes you cock an eyebrow. "I thought it was strange, just how often you needed medical attention. Were you slacking out there? Hoping to get injured so you could see me?"

König huffs out a dry laugh. "No. But part of me did want to be indebted to you."

Liar.

"Why?"

"Because I needed an excuse to give you exactly what you deserve."

You swallow a dryness in your throat, the hand on your breast gives a generous squeeze as you do so. You almost choke on your own saliva.

"If that's something you want..."

"And what do I deserve?" Though you feel as though you already know the answer, you ask anyway, subsequently causing a heavy pulse at within your heat.

"I'm much better with actions than words."

"They do speak louder, I suppose..."

König takes your response as agreement, the hand at your breast moving to dig desperately beneath one of the spaces between the buttons of your shirt. He finds purchase and, in one swift pull, violently rips open the shirt, each button clicking gently as they bounce against the tiled floor.

You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him that he owes you a new shirt pronto - but König is determined to waste no time as his hands are already tugging the band of your bra down to expose your tits.

"I've wanted to see these for a long time," he breathes, and you hear the tremble in his exhale as he does so. "So perfect."

It dawns on you that you must be an obsession of his, that he may be interested in you significantly more than you are in him. It's the only viable explanation for his reckless behaviour, and yet it still didn't make sense why he would risk his life even more than he already did just to be in your presence.

"I.. hope you realise I have no other shirt to wear," you say, inhaling sharply at the sensation of his hot, calloused fingers brushing circles into the shape of each of your nipples. "How am I going to leave this room?"

König tuts as his hands cage around the mounds of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

"Who said you're going to leave this room?"

The pit in your stomach spirals into a trench, and then König is lifting you, using the leverage of your weight against him, before you can even stutter out a response. His hands guide your body along like you're no heavier than a bag of rice, a true display of his unbeatable strength that sends your mind numb - reminds you of just who you're dealing with.

A ruthless, merciless killing machine.

When König settles onto the examination table, he makes sure that you're positioned perfectly onto the tautness of his giant thighs, and you finally win against the babbling, incoherent flurry of thoughts inside your skull and speak.

"This... Surely we're violating multiple codes of conduct.. protocols... I-"

König allows you to cut yourself off, relishes in the way you hiccup at the sensation of linen on skin as deft hands begin to slide up your skirt.

"We can stop," he suggests, halting the movement of his hands but continuing to brush his fingertips back and forth, so awfully close to the insides of your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to rest just below his shoulder. Every single horny neuron inside of your brain fires at you, reminds you of just how neglected you've been sexually, what the countless hours of constant shifts have denied you for so long. And then it dawns on you.

"König, we can't. I'm not on birth control."

The man laughs. Laughs. It's the first time you've ever heard such a soft, genuine sound escape his mouth. You feel a twitch below because of it, the heat between your legs only solidifying the way his display of amusement has made your want for him so much more intense.

"Love, I'm only interested in your pleasure."

And you know better than most that a man who prefers giving rather than receiving is a rare find.

It would be a tragic waste.

When you spread your legs unconsciously, your skirt ruffles up until it can't no more and König reacts accordingly to the invitation your cunt is giving to him. But he spends too much time massaging the sensitive skin between your thighs for your liking, and you lift your hips to encourage something more.

What you get is rather unexpected, and would be a little annoying if you weren't so drunk on your own arousal. König hooks a finger under the material covering your hip bone and jerks his wrist, tearing your panties with ease before moving to finish the job at the other side.

"Please," you murmur, eyes trained on the large hand between your legs. He shushes you, with a gentleness you didn't suspect he had in him.

"Quiet now," he hums out. "Let me show you how grateful I am to you."

You feel your clit screaming for pressure, but König's fingers seem to ignore the cry as he toys with the wetness around your hole. The sensation tickles slightly, until he's pressing his middle and ring fingers inside.

Immediately, your hands fly up to brace at the arm that begins to move, long fingers filling you enough to bring a whimper from you. It feels good, but not perfect, and the man seems to read your mind as he curls his digits to rub at your sensitive, spongy spot.

"Oh, fffuck," you sigh, digging the back of your head into him with more force and following with a series of guttural groans.

"Quiet," he scolds, a slight venom in his tone. "Or I'll have to stop."

"Don't," you almost growl with a buck of your hips.

You almost forget the other hand that rests over your left breast until it starts to knead and pull at the skin, almost miss the sound of König's pants as they ooze with arousal from behind his mask.

With only the sensation of König's palm brushing against it, your clit is desperately swollen. You're willing to look the other way when you feel yourself constricting around the now three fingers pumping in and out of you.

When he speaks, his movements don't falter.

"I'm going to stop, and when I do, I want you to lay on your back on this table. Understand?"

"Yes," you obey. You're pretty much putty in his hands at this point anyway.

And so you splay out on the cold metal of the table - which your white coat does nothing to protect you from - skirt bunched up around your hips, shirt ruined and ripped open and completely exposing your chest and belly.

"Lift your legs," he commands, hand ready to hold them in place as you do as you're told.

At the end of the table he stands, lanky arms reaching over to grasp each of your ankles as he slides you along the metal until the backs of your thighs butt against his own.

You feel uncomfortably aware of how exposed you are as he spreads your legs and examines the sight before him. His eyes are cold, fierce - akin to the eyes of a hunter eyeing its prey. Your body feels as cold as the surface beneath it underneath his stare.

König releases your ankles to let your heels rest at his shoulders as his hands begin a slow trail down and along your trembling thighs. Each of his thumbs hook around your corresponding hip bones, calloused fingers cupping in place at your lower back.

His baby blues eyes are considerably darkened to a shade of grey as they flick up to meet your own, and moments later the hem of his hood is brushing gently over your swollen slit.

You've never seen his face, but you've never wanted to more than you do now. His hold on you is intoxicating in a way that staggers your cognition, robs your brain of any chance of comprehension as you can only watch him lean further forward and dip until you can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. His tongue is hot, completely saturated in his own saliva as it makes contact with your puffy clit. It snatches the breath from your lungs with violence, and when it starts to massage on and around the nerve you can only mewl and whine meekly.

König continues his watch on you the entire time, evidently enjoying the pained look that the struggle to keep quiet brings to your face.

You lift your hips into the onslaught of his mouth, and his grip around them becomes vice-like as he forces you into place and sucks harshly at your nub. This only serves to fuel your physical struggle under his pleasure more, and he grunts at your display of disobedience, lifting you higher until only your upper back and head touch the table.

The new position makes any movement too difficult for you, forces you to submit against him as he groans into the taste of your pussy. "König, I-God, I can't--" You flail your arms until they slump defeatedly back down to your sides, nails scratching at the frigid surface below you.

He manoeuvres his grip for comfort, lifting you further, until his forearms are encircling and squeezing around your waist and your calves hang over each of his shoulders.

"König, please, fuck--"

The man hums into your heat, all but abusing your clit with the vibration that follows through the sound. You're forced to slap one hand over your mouth to muffle the repetition of cries falling from it. König's lucky, his hood seems to dull his grumbles of pure satisfaction that reverberate against you. But you still hear every bit of them.

Your body spasms when you come undone against König's relentless mouth, legs jittering with a force that wobbles your entire body against his own. His hold on you helps stabilise you through the orgasm, but your hands fail to suppress the desperate, hopeless wails you release from behind them.

"That was beautiful," you barely hear him say through the ringing in your ears. "But I'm not done, Doctor."

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