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pluralismajestatis · 1 year

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Stuff and things. We haven't been writing in a bit, and I don't know if it's because brain empty no thoughts or because we've been busy otherwise or what, but there's a whole backlog of shit that's tiring and depressing and it's kind of hitting T hard. He seems to be the guy who's hoarding all of the mental illness we had before our DID diagnosis, and I think it's unfair to leave him to deal with it, blaming himself for what's going on with him. He's not bringing us down, we're placing all of the weight of everything the rest of us are blissfully unbothered by on him. And it's a long list, so let's start with something.

First - that fucking Canadian law. Never had a decision made on the literal other end of the globe hit us so hard and make us feel so hopeless on sight. We first heard of it some months ago on Reddit, which is the shittiest place on earth to be first hearing about anything on, mainly because its userbase consists of unrepenting voluntary sociopaths. (Something's climbing the cabin's wall. Sounds like a magpie but might be a squirrel. We're holed away someplace a stone's throw away from the Russian border in the arctic circle. It's atmospheric. Coincidentally also where T first became aware of being here, since I was talking about him earlier. None of this has anything to do with the euthanasia law, but suddenly hearing something scraping against your hut's outside wall is like, okay, cool, WHAT IS THAT?)

So yeah, Reddit. Knee-jerk reaction. Wrote in disbelief; this is unethical. This is not right. Suicidal ideation is such a common symptom in mental illness it's literally right there in most of the diagnostic manual entries. Literally right there, and now you're saying that instead of treating the people who experience common symptoms of mental illness, you're just going to kill them instead? How is that not eugenics? How is that not genocide? (It is.)

Got hit by a wave of forementioned Reddit cynicists. "You're the real monster," we're told. "You're denying people their right to end their suffering."

Brother - and I use this word with the utmost disrespect in my tone - I am these people. You might perceive that from just the way I mostly referred to myself as "we" in the text so far, but let me specify: we have been suffering of treatment-resistant, delibilitating, excruciating severe mental illness since we were children. We were neurodivergent before puberty and that was difficult enough, but by the time we started school, our father had turned into a violent monster who took his anger out on us, a child of 7 years old, while unemployed and our mother worked 8 to 4 every day. Sometimes she was out on business trips that took a week or maybe even two. She'd ask for her friends to babysit us, and they'd ask her why not just trust our father? She told them he had violent rages, they told her they couldn't believe that about such a nice guy, but because they were her friends, they'd do what she needed of them. Nobody ever believed us.

There's more than that, obviously. Not the point of this story. When we turned 11, our homeroom teacher responsible for most of our classes and all education outside of subject classes, had to take leave due to breast cancer. She was replaced by the meanest, most hateful bitch I've ever met. She targeted us because we weren't normal and she could smell it from miles away. By the second half of the semester, we would sit in our dark closet crying and wanting to die. We stopped doing our homework, and once that routine was gone, we could never pick it up again. By 12 years old, though she was gone by then, replaced by a creepy old guy who liked massaging the shoulders of girls while rocking into their desks with his hips and would make "checks" of the girls' showers after gym, we no longer could attend half of the semester at all. That period of unattending became longer and longer with each passing year, to the point where we'd go to school after summer vacation for about one month, and then drop out again.

We got placed in a group home, severing the last remaining friendships and connections we had at home, and leaving us in the middle of people with genuine behavioural issues and frequent clashes with the law, while our only problem was that we were desperate and could not keep up with routine.

We never did get better. A year after that ended, we entered voluntary hospitalisation for two months. The staff proceeded to ignore us, we were never even given our permission slip to exit the ward even though at the point where we were doing so poorly we demanded to cut the stay short, they wanted to act like it had been known all of the time that we didn't have to stay indoors under supervision. Guess what? Our name was not on the permission slip. Our mother made them check. The head psychiatrist of the ward was another insane control freak, I don't want to talk about her. Her deal was humiliation and arrogance, and her parting words to us "I'll see you back in a couple weeks when you're carried back here in an ambulance wearing a straitjacket." (She did not, in fact, see us back ever again.)

We moved out from home at 18, because living with our mother was impossible. She's never understood what mental illness means and cannot stand our neurodivergency. For just short of ten years from there, we were outpatients living on partial everyday assistance; we had an attendee from the social services who'd help us buy groceries, attend our appointments, and occasionally clean up the house though most the time we were too depressed to move a muscle if we didn't have to.

In 2016, we had a psychotic episode that didn't just go away like the prior ones had. I don't actually have much memories from any of our twenties, but they were miserable; we were either constantly in a permanent state of existential fear of our own impending death, or trying to hurry it along through suicidal fits and overdoses and self-harm. We were (mis)diagnosed with BPD around 27, after similar misdiagnoses of bipolar disorder earlier. The gist was that nobody knew what to do with us, and nobody was actually invested enough to figure it out. Our psychiatric contacts - doctors, nurses - dropped us on a yearly basis. The period of establishing trust got longer and longer each time, to the point where when they'd leave, we hadn't started to feel comfortable working with them yet. Constant abandonment, constant giving up, constant "you can't be helped." The years between our 25 and 29 were more or less spent trying to get a consensus on whether insurance would cover "real" talk therapy for us or not; every time one person told us to apply for it, the next person would tell us it was pointless because we were too ill to be approved, and would have to cover the whole cost ourselves, which obviously living on disability payments was not physically possible.

This all ended at the bend of 29 to 30, when we coincidentally met someone we for the first time told about our dissociative symptoms. They urged us to look into it more, which we did, and it immediately became glaringly obvious that the symptoms we'd obsessively protected and never uttered a word about in fear of some catastrophe or divine punishment raining down on us were actually clinically so significant that we needed help not yesterday, but decades ago. As a result, after failing to put us into involuntary care, our clinic kicked us out as untreatable, with nothing but a list of therapists to contact.

None of whom were dissociation specialists, and none of whom were taking patients, and only few of whom were covered by insurance to begin with, that is, if insurance would have ever even covered us to begin with. Again, untreatable. Turning to our mother, we hopped continents, got a trauma/dissociation specialist from the United fucking States of America instead, and with some cooperation between her and our local psychiatric unit (as they were ending our patientship with them) finally reached a consensus on what was actually wrong with us. Not BPD, which was scrapped, but DID.

So, how does any of this relate to Canada, and Canada's eugenics laws? Have you heard already about the patients who are recommended assisted suicide by their "care" teams? Do you see what I'm implying here?

This fucking disaster of a law is a glaring reminder that no matter the fact that we're doing better - marginally, not good enough to be anything but disabled, but still better than ever - we'd still be on the chopping block here? Not only do we have a disorder that the psychiatric world is inherently biased against and fearful towards, that most of it doesn't even want to try to understand, we are and have already been a lost case since childhood. There's no full recovery for us. There's no return to baseline functioning. Even as we are now, we are so vulnerable, teetering on the sharpest of edges, that it would be more of a surprise if, given the opportunity, our health "care" professionals wouldn't try to convince us into "assisted suicide."

It's the starkest of reminders that the world does not care about us, that we're treated and seen as nothing but burdens, that society wants us dead for reasons ranging from saving money to discomfort and embarrasment and fear.

How can you even keep trying to be better with that knowledge? Every time we open up about it, there's some self-appointed devil's advocate ready to ask us if it really wouldn't just be better, if we wouldn't actually be happier if we could just die. Not if they'd be happier if we'd just die, making their world more comfortable to live in as they don't have to contend with the concept of sick and injured people - but if we don't actually, secretly, still just want to be dead. And if we don't want to die then that's selfish; selfish because we're draining society's money, selfish because we're denying other people the right to be murdered by doctors who supposedly swore an oath to never do harm, selfish because we don't let them feel the self-assured comfort of being the good guy who lets the unfit to live take their own lives.

Suicidal ideation used to be a serious symptom that meant the patient was crying for help, crying to be seen, crying out to have people notice and care and show them that they're not alone and that there's always hope, someone who'll take their hand and help them walk forwards.

Now, apparently, this fascist shitshow of a society has decided that it's actually just the patient rationally showing that they agree with the mainstream view of it being better for everybody if they just died off.

And you want me to be okay with this? Just go on like it's fine? Just act like this isn't personal? Just accept that not only should I let other people be killed, but that I, and everyone else in this fucked up little head of mine, would actually be better off dead ourselves?

I have no fucking words left.

#assisted suicide #canada eugenics law #dissociative identity disorder #did #if you come here to tell me how I'm wrong I'm literally not only blocking you on sight #but I will crawl from underneath your bed at night and shove your fucking pillow so far down your throat #that the people who find your corpse will see it peeking out of your asshole #d post #legal disclaimer: despite being a wholly disembodied entity #I am not in reality capable of crawling out from underneath the beds of strangers #nor am I capable of shoving pillows down people's mouths as pillows tend to be large and mouths rather small

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imwritesometimes · 2 years

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I hate Santino's favorite new game called "stick my little paws as faaaaar back underneath the stove and refrigerator as I can and see what the coolest thing I can find is!"

#I've been wondeing lately like WHY THE FUCK is the floor in there ALWAYS dirty? always little bits of dust and crumbs?#no matter HOW much I sweep #I think he's trying to find ice cubes 😑 I know he is intrigued by them and has seen them skid under the fridge/stove before when dropped #I also still feel like a half dead corpse shuffling through my house cause I was only able to get #2 more hours of sleep #cause Santino and Felix decided my bed was a wrestling wring 🥴#it's cool it's so cool I'm gonna just like throw myself off the roof #erin explains it all

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neckromantics · 2 months

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More creepy and unsettling, creature Astarion please.

I beg of thee. Vampires are meant to be an uncanny valley type of thing. An undead creature of the night that passes itself as just the right amount of living and mortal for you to let your guard down. I need more examples of his vampiric nature showing once he's grown comfortable enough, and I need it now.

An Astarion who is so silent in his movements that you often got jump scared by it in the earlier stages of your relationship.

You'd be lounging around on the sofa. Reading a book, lost in thought, all serene and cozy beneath a nice knitted blanket-- just having an all around nice, relaxing time when you see movement out of the corner of your eye. You glance up for just a moment, to the space before you that was previously unoccupied, and his entire face is suddenly hovering right in front of you.

Just waiting. Not moving. Pupils blown so huge that there's barely any color left to his eyes. Fangs are peeking out over the bruise-purple skin of his bottom lip. He's pallid. White as a corpse. Definitely in need of a good feeding.

His intentions were entirely innocent. He really only meant to ask you a question, and here you are being all dramatic and jumping several feet into the air and throwing your book off to the side in a panic. Thankfully, you're able to catch yourself before you full on shriek in his face.

(You love him and his ghoulishly handsome face, you really and truly do, but you sincerely thought for a moment that he was a spectre come to take you to the afterlife.)

Astarion, who routinely forgets to breathe. Yanno, like it's nothing.

You're well aware of the fact that vampires don't need to breathe. It's more of a force of habit than anything else, really-- something left over from when he was still mortal, he says.

Although, during bouts of intense emotion, or some sort of uh, stimulation, the focus on something so trivial gets put on the backburner for a bit.

The two of you will be sharing a particularly passionate kiss (or worse) when you feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest stop short. It's like all of the air has gotten caught in his lungs, and he ends up making these creaky grudge-like sounds in place of his usual low moaning. A clicking in the back of his throat in place of a sigh. If you play your cards just right, there might even be a rattling from deep within his chest that almost sounds like a purr.

When he finally does breathe, usually due to a well executed nip to his bottom lip, or the gentle brush of your fingers against one of his ears as you play with his hair, it comes out as an animalistic hiss. A sharp, choking gasp that sends goosebumps down the length of your arms.

How you catch him watching you sleep.

How you'll wake up in the pitch black of your bedroom in a cold sweat. Your hair is stood on end, a fearful shudder threatening to rattle your frame. A spike in your pulse that has your sleep addled brain doing somersaults in your skull. All of your instinctual alarm bells go off at once, telling you that something must be terribly wrong. Something must be watching you.

You try to blink away the bleariness-- try to shake off the fog of sleep for long enough to get your bearings, and catch a glint in the dark so ominous that for a moment you're scared stock still.

Something is watching you. Someone, rather.

Astarion's eyes gleam back at you in the dark like a wild animal's might. A bobcat, maybe, like the ones you'd often find stalking pray outside the tree line of camp all those nights ago. Pupils that glow a filmy, holographic orange despite there being no light to reflect off of them.

You don't notice until after you've taken a second to calm yourself that he's hovering over you. The bed just barely dips from his weight as he supports himself, and you'd be baffled by it all if you had any braincells left.

"Go back to sleep, darling." His voice is so soft, even over the pounding against your eardrums. Soothing. Tranquilizing. And though your eyes do begin to feel heavy, you're not exactly in the mood for rest anymore.

Especially not when he's pressing cold, feather-light kisses down the length of your throat not a moment later.

Please, I beg. Give me more.

#bg3 #astarion ancunin #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 tav #astarion headcanons #astarion fluff #kinda?#astarion smut #? also kinda?

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cheesecakethots · 5 months

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thinkin’ about mahito obsessing over a nervous wreck of a darling.

you run into him on a busy street, stammering out apologies and barely glancing up from your feet. you don’t notice the strange looks you’re given from strangers around you, strangers who see you talking to no one.

you go on with your day, and so does mahito, despite the amusement he got from the interaction. the next time you meet is when you catch him mutilating someone in a dark alley.

you don’t scream, knees buckling and mouth agape, instead trembling with wide eyes and a dry throat. he tilts his head at the sight of you, dropping the corpse with a bright laugh, “oh, it’s you!”

your life is never the same after it.

he follows you everywhere, essentially making your home his second place of residence, that is other than the sewers. your already horrible sleeping pattern becomes horrific with him around. a lot of the time he’ll sit at the head or foot of your bed, resting his face on his hands and watching you almost dreamily. the expression only grows in cheerfulness at any increasing fear you have.

he’ll follow you to work, practically hanging off of your shoulder and peering over at everything you do. if a customer is particularly rude or flirty with you, he might stand behind them and call out to you from across the room, asking if you think he should make their eyes pop out of their skull. he hasn’t done anything of the sort yet, but you know that probably won’t last for long.

he’ll follow you when you go out to hang around with the few friends you have. he’ll start pretending that he’s about to stick his hand through their chest only to see you panic and embarrass yourself, and then he’ll roll around in a ball, laughing his ass off. you soon start cutting yourself off from your friends. mahito prefers it that way; you don’t want to see him jealous.

really, he thrives off of your anxiousness and the reactions you give him. oh? touching you here elicits a squeal? what if he licks your lips, how will you react then? gosh, he finds your stammering so cute. he finds you so cute. sometimes he wishes to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze you, but he manages to refrain, at least enough so that his tight hugs don’t actually damage or kill you.

he’s not particularly fond of the idea of others making you nervous like he does, however he can admit it was adorable when he introduced you to those he “works” with, and you hid behind him a little, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt with a shy hand. he hadn’t let you out of his arms for a few hours after that, occasionally whining about how cute you were acting and roughly ruffling your hair with his face.

it might be a good idea to start finding someone who can take care of him, as the idea of keeping you locked in your own home or dragging you to the sewers is becoming more and more appealing by the day.

#I tag this shit as mahito x reader without the yandere because let’s be real mahito is this bad even as a non yan #tw yandere #yandere #tw.yandere #yanderecore #yandere mahito x reader #yandere mahito #mahito x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jjk x reader #yandere jujustu kaisen x reader #yandere jujustu kaisen #yandere jujutsu kaisen

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storiumemporium · 6 months

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Astarion As a Father

Fem!Tav/Reader

I FINALLY GOT A NEW KEYBOARD WITH FULLY FUNCTIONING KEYS LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

I elected to write about something that's been giving me brainworms for ages, because I'd been talking about it with someone on here awhile ago and it just infested me. Astarion finding out you're pregnant and how he handles fatherhood. (Or, in this case, doesn't at first.) This isn't my best work but I blame it on the fact that I didn't intend for it to be THIS FUCKING LONG okay 😭

But without further ado, daddy Astarion:

Finding out:

When it comes to children, I think Astarion hasn't put much thought into it beyond 'me!? ABSOLUTELY NOT—'

He has no illusions about his state of mind and his faculties, you see. Astarion knows that he's fucked up, he knows that he's a problem, and he's only entirely too confident that any child unfortunately put under his care would likely end up just as damaged as he is, were they to miraculously make it to adulthood. He's just not equipped for it.

And, frankly, Astarion isn't even aware he can have children... That's just, not something he ever thought to question. He's undead, is he not? That should take care of the...fertility question.

Shouldn't it?

Truth be told, Cazador never told him of the possibilities because it was never meant to be a possibility. Astarion was too malnourished, his victims too short lived for anything to ever have come of it. He was supposed to die a sacrifice, not live to carry his own bloodline (hah) onward.

Were you to ever ask him about it, even jokingly over dinner one eve, he'd be very firm in the fact that it's a terrible idea and he'd be entirely unequipped. He would even go so far as to say he's the worst choice out of all of your past companions.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm sure whatever little devil you managed to cook up would be the most charming child Baldur's Gate has ever seen... But even that magical explosive that fancied himself a God would be better suited to fatherhood, darling. I am built for luxury and adventure, nothing else." All bookended by typical Astarion preening.

So when the day comes and you inform him of the little life growing in your womb?

Nope. Not happening, not even a chance of happening.

The denial is strong with this one.

And when I say denial, I mean that Astarion well and truly blots out what you've said from his mind, as if it simply didn't happen at all. You never had the conversation, you never dropped the revelation, there is no child, he is not becoming a father.

It's not a lack of want— though he doesn't realize that yet— it's true, blinding terror. Before it was just a joke, just something for him to brush off with commentary about how terribly he'd do as a parent, better the uncle than anything else. But now it's a reality and to accept what you've said is to accept that he might well and truly destroy a child. But not just any, yours.

The traumas Astarion possesses heap onto his shoulders and slough off plentiful enough to make new oceans of it. Now, not only is he just beginning to regain his own autonomy, he's supposedly being given responsibility over a brand new life?

(It would only make sense for Astarion in retrospect, that the life you willingly sacrificed to nourish and nurture him would in turn allow him to grow a new life within you. The fool had just been too blind to consider it: The way, fresh off your blood, he could pull back from the delicate column of your throat and you would find his cheeks and ears and chest flushed with the loveliest shade of pink, eyes wide and soft and alive. The way his entire body would warm, going from corpse frigid to something just beneath normal. The way his once-still heart would slowly beat again.

He'd even asked you once- curled together on a familiar silken bed, foreheads touching and your hands clasped together between your chests- if you knew what it felt like to be so, so hungry that all you could even think about was about badly you wanted to eat? How food sounded so good that the desire became crossed and instead felt even more painful and nauseating? How it consumed your ability to make rational decisions, denied you the capacity to control your emotions?

He'd told you then, voice tender and timid and weak, that he'd felt like that every single day for two whole centuries, until the night you'd willingly laid down on that cot and put your life in his hands.

It was so simple really, of course you granted him the strength to create life. It was you.)

And of course it comes to a head before there is any chance at recovery. Your body begins to show the changes, you begin to swell, and Astarion only grows more avoidant and flighty. Because now he can't simply wipe the idea from his mind and continue on as if the child doesn't exist, the proof is there every single time he looks at you. He makes it very clear to you that he will not be returning to your side without a confrontation, a very potentially ugly one at that.

And ugly it is, explosive. Astarion hasn't truly had the time to recover from his life under Cazador, and all of those protective traits he grew remain sharp as ever, returning to the surface as if they'd never truly gone away to begin with. He sneers and hisses, tries his best to dig in and hurt you enough to stop poking his tender wounds. Enough to push you away so he can lick his wounds back open. He'll go so far as to accuse you of infidelity, though he regrets the words the moment they leave his lips, it's easier for him to imagine that you simply grew tired of him, that you were weary and longed for the daylight. That you wanted someone who could hold you beneath the sun, unlike him.

How you respond to this is entirely up to you, but just shy of throwing something truly despicable back into his face, such as Cazador, Astarion will apologize... eventually. If you remain stalwart and patient, if you have it in you to recognize that he doesn't mean his words, that he's barbing you with intent, Astarion will break down in that very same argument, his angry and accusatory rant will dissolve into an admission of deep insecurity and deeper terror.

But if you respond with anger? Justifiable, and Astarion knows that even in the moment as it's happening, but emotions rule him far more than he'd ever care to admit, and he will dig in and relish the reaction he's managed to draw from you. He will bristle and bite back until suspicion and bitterness fully claims his heart, and he aborts the conversation to hide in the shadows.

Astarion will wait until nightfall, until his freedom calls for him. The one thing that always manages to clear his head, even when you prove to be the cause of his muddying. It's a reminder, every time he steps into the cool and dark of Baldur's Gate, that Cazador is dead and he is a free man. That he can go where he chooses and when he chooses to, and not only that no one can stop him, but that you wouldn't even want to stop him.

And that truth is always what brings Astarion home.

Under the distant lonely stars and that cold moon, he has to remember that time and again you have let him. You have accepted him, you have not fought him on anything shy of a horrible mistake he wanted to make in a moment of weakness and hysteria. You have accepted all his deepest and ugliest wounds and kissed them like they were freckles to pour affection on. You fought Cazador for him, you defended him from your own friends. You even- at times- tested your own morals for him.

You wouldn't betray him, and Astarion knows he can't betray you.

Astarion would return to you late, curling into bed at your side, his eyes would not meet you, and his apology would come in the form of a simple confession. "I am... afraid. I am afraid."

Astarion wouldn't blame you if you don't forgive him immediately for his transgressions, he was cruel and you were vulnerable. But even then you'll find that your love doesn't abandon you again. He accepts- however frightened- that what you've said is true and is coming, and he must accept it. Mind you, it won't be perfect and it won't be romantic. Astarion doesn't know the intricacies of handling a pregnant woman, he's hardly tactful beyond his well honed and flirtatious lines. He genuinely loves you, but he's going to come pre-equipped as father material.

You need something? He'll get it with minimal complaint (but never none, you'd sooner get him to dye his hair black than cease complaining for the sake of it), he won't begrudge you your mood swings though he might be inclined to poke fun at you ever so often. And he will panic when you burst into tears for seemingly no reason, and no- time doesn't make him adjust, he will panic just as much the thousandth time as the first.

However, if it's any consolation. The moment your child enters the world, Astarion is a changed man.

When You Go Into Labor:

Astarion did the honors of informing all of your friends about your pregnancy, once he came to terms with it. And believe me when I say it is extravagant. The stationery and grandiose script that Astarion wields when informing everyone that you were expecting better fits a wedding invitation than it does... well. Very elegantly explaining that Astarion had accidentally knocked you up.

You can tell from the splotchy stains addressed to you from Wyll and Karlach that one of them had been crying when penning the message, Astarion has coin on Wyll, and you on Karlach. Lae'zel never responds to begin with and you know for a fact the Githyanki's response will likely come in the form of her simply showing up one of these days, unprompted. Jaheira personally and rather frequently visits as well, she becomes a sort of bastion as nerves take you over, confident and calm as she is. Halsin's "letter" arrives late, rather because alongside his letter is several little carved animals for the child's room, and mentions of a quilt he intends to bring along when next he visits. Shadowheart's letter, while congratulatory, contains an air of interrogation strung all about it, all aimed with pinpoint precision at the man responsible for your pregnancy and dripping with sarcasm.

Gale's letter is seven pages long, comes with a violet hued wax stamp, and multiple different inks in the most lavish hand he can manage. You daresay he's competing with Astarion. However, surprisingly, Gale's seems to be the most... helpful of them all? It wasn't your intent, you simply wanted your dear friend to join you in celebration, and yet Gale goes on to inform you that upon reading the letter he'd become a madman in pursuit of knowledge on pregnancy and giving birth. He admits that this wasn't a particularly fruitful endeavor, as he's rather confident that you're not a gnoll, troll, cambion, succubus, or any other variety of strange creature with strange metrics of procreation. Still, Gale directs the latter portion of his letter to Astarion quite pointedly, informing him of bookshops around Baldur's Gate where he might have more success.

Astarion scoffs, but you don't miss the way his fingers twitch and flex.

After the hilarity of this is resolved and you just begin to believe that peace might return to your soft little home in the city, the first of your companions begin to arrive.

This continues on for the next week or so, without you ever knowing that this had been planned- and without knowing that Astarion had been the one to plan it. It's a furthering of his apology, of his guilt over the way he'd treated you. Again, Astarion has no illusions of the kind of man he is, and the fact he's not nurturing in the sort of ways that you need- but he's not completely stupid and he knows you're scared. So... bring the cavalry, darling.

Eventually your entire home has become a crash pad for all of your dearest friends, your family, and you only grow suspicious of Astarion's hand in this chaos because he's surprisingly amicable to having his peace so thoroughly disturbed by 'everyone and their mother'. Truly, he manages to bite his tongue some of the time about them trampling his fine rugs and scratching the plates. He even seems... wistful about it. As nostalgic as you openly are at seeing all of these beloved people under one roof again.

Nights are filled with raucous laughter, clattering utensils, a table so thoroughly overcrowded that people are playfully shouldering each other out of the way for a chance to get at their own food. And Astarion stays faithful at your side, his hand perpetually clasped gently around yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles. Days are never spent alone, no matter what it is you need to do, someone (if not everyone) is following you along. And though Astarion feels his heart ache that he can't join you, he'll be glad to know you're safe.

Besides, your companions are likely all taking turns tormenting, testing, and relentlessly teasing him about what is to come. He has his own hands full. He's starting to regret being such a generous lover.

And then your water breaks in the dead of night.

Remember how I said Astarion was far from perfect? This would be one of those moments that it really shines.

Not that he's particularly terrible, no. He's not actively cruel toward you, and certainly not dismissive, it's somewhat the opposite. Halsin and Jaheira end up the ones helping you, the only two with some iota of understanding on what was happening and what to do with and for you. The others, less experienced in "mundane" medical situations will take up the second most important role.

Prevent Astarion from catastrophizing any more than he already has been.

Karlach has been the sole force capable of keeping Astarion away from the wine, typically bear hugging him away from your cellar while Wyll tries his best to talk your lover down from a total nervous breakdown. Of which he nearly has, several times. It's not even the sight of you, specifically. He's okay with being at your side and holding your hand, in trying his best to provide comforting words that aren't laced with sarcasm for once. But the sounds you make, that's what breaks him. Astarion isn't good at hearing you scream from the pain, he isn't good at the choked sobs or your heavy breaths. The way you sound like you're struggling against death. It makes him want to crawl out of his own skin, fight assailants that aren't there.

And for a few hours there, in the midst of your labors and your exhausted, pained little cries, Astarion isn't sure how he can love the child causing you this much suffering. It's not as if Astarion was an altruistic man on his best days, as if he were particularly reasonable when it came to you. You've both come to a mutual understanding that were something to happen to you, no morals would be involved in the things Astarion would do to rectify it.

And now, here you are, suffering. Astarion isn't supposed to do a thing about it? He's supposed to be- what, overjoyed by it? It infuriates him, he's truly prepared to have a grudge match with an infant.

Until, as the sun is starting to creep up on a brand new day, it's no longer your screams that meet the air, but another's entirely. Tiny but powerful, high pitched little squeals of fury and distress. And your laughter, disbelieving, soft, adoring already.

Astarion has a daughter.

I go with the HC that Astarion had eyes like honey once, and that his daughter takes after that, along with the delicate points of his ears mirrored in her own. She's small, so small, but healthy and already feisty, wiggling as best as her tiny body can whilst still too heavy for her to lift and move.

You're the first to hold her of course, and Astarion will be at his knees beside the two of you. The expression he wears is something you've seen maybe two or three other times in the entire time you've known him- moments when you know he expected everything to fall apart, moments where he couldn't believe that the world was so good.

It's then that you can breathe for the first time, and know that both of your darlings will be just fine.

Once he does hold her, he's not inclined to let her go. Even once you ask to have her back, he'll simply move you into his lap, so that he can hold you both. It's better that way anyhow, having both of his girls in his arms. And Astarion will repeat again and again how stunned he is, he just can't believe it. Cannot fathom any of it. I think he's the type to say that he's speechless and then spend the next five minutes doing nothing but talking. It's nervous rambling, but still, speechless is not the term I would use to describe him here.

Astarion With Your Baby:

Once your little darling is actually in your lives, you get to see how hilariously unorthodox Astarion is with children. Especially his own. Astarion doesn't baby-talk like you or the rest of your companions, he speaks in the same exact tones as he would a grown woman. In fact, for the first few days you're adjusting to a child in your life, you sometimes mistake Astarion as speaking with an unexpected guest, only to round the corner and find him lightheartedly chastising his own daughter for her poor nappy conduct as he wrinkles his nose and changes her diaper.

He's disgusted by that, by the way. Absolutely hates it, complains loudly about having to do it. But if you so much as try to stand to help he'll force you back down onto your chair or the couch, something something not useless something something already up, darling. It's as if Astarion is simply allergic to admitting that while it makes him nauseous, he wants to care for his daughter. He wants you to rest.

And yes, Astarion is the type of father that thinks all other children are hideous little fecal beasts and his daughter is the only gorgeous little angel in the entire world. Perfect, can do no wrong. He tells her as such too, in the same deadpan voice he always uses, wiggling and stretching her legs.

"You know, darling. You should count your blessings, you're the only child I've ever seen that doesn't look like some sort of hideous, deformed bean. I can't be surprised though, with as gorgeous as your parents are." And though he rolls his eyes, he's unable to contain the grin that shows his teeth when she coos and squeaks at the sound of his voice.

And yes. Astarion dresses up with his child.

The older she gets the more he does it, little matching outfits and ribbons. Nothing that she would choke on, were she to get her mitts on it. (You had to be the one to tell him no, at first. He did throw a little fit about it, just a small one).

But it's not all lighthearted, good or bad.

There are times where Astarion won't touch your daughter, won't be alone with her in the same room. He fears it, he'll eventually tell you. His... affliction came with it's dangers, always. But he's always trusted that you could defend yourself, and you're big enough that he can't just kill you between one blink and the next. The same can't be said of your darling girl. She's so small and so fragile that, were he to lose even the slightest grip of himself around her, it could cost her her life. No doubt it would traumatize her for life, regardless.

You watch it, too. The way it pinches his brows and makes him wipe his palms against his pants as if he were sweating. Nervous habits creeping up his throat and causing him to pace about like a caged animal. It's during these times that you have to bring your daughter to him. Gently place her in his arms and remind him that he's loved her from the moment he saw her. And where once he held trepidation and queasiness at the prospect of fatherhood, you can see him care so much about this little bundle that he looks sick from it. A vulnerability he can't mask.

And of course, there are times he nearly weeps for other reasons.

Like when she takes her first steps, and immediately tries to run for him.

And Astarion knows he should let her tumble, that it's good to let her fall and get back up again, but the moment her unsteady feet cause her to careen she's safe in his arms. Little kisses peppered against her giggly face. And he'll tuck away against her to try and get his bearings back, but she'll pat his cheeks and tug his ears- and you'll have to distract her with a toy while he hiccups and sniffles down his need to cry. He wasn't ready for her to grow so fast, gone is the tiny bundle that could fit perfectly in one arm, now she's walking. How long before she's dating? Gods, should he be preparing for betrothal requests!?

"I want to be mortal." He whispers to you, one night. She's tucked between your bodies, sound asleep and wiggling from time to time. This is one of the rare moments you and your love can speak to each other uninterrupted, in the tranquility of the dark hugging around you.

It's strange that he brings this up now, you'd spoken about it several times since the Elder Brain had been taken down... But in the past few years since your daughter had been born, all of that had fallen to the wayside. "What brings this to mind, Starling?"

Your hand comes to cup his throat, as you watch and feel him work as if he were swallowing a stone. "I don't want to outlive this."

It's hard to blink the tears from your eyes, understanding the implications.

Were he actually two hundred years old, Astarion wouldn't survive well past the existence of his sweet little family.

He'd been more melancholy the past few weeks, after realizing that your daughter was beginning to function on her own. She was walking, grabbing things, talking in rudimentary sentences. She was even beginning to call him pa.

He'd cried, at that.

"I'll forget," his voice draws you out from that brief reverie. The distress is palpable, but runs low like the tide before a storm. "I'll forget all of this. I don't want to know what I'll become, then."

And when you run your hands up into his hair, to scratch lovingly along his scalp, he doesn't hide the shiver or the way his face presses against your palm, cold and smooth on your skin.

"We'll find a way, Astarion. I haven't given up yet... We just- she's too young."

It's both a strain and a relief, to know that. To be reminded that your daughter is still so small, that he won't be losing her- or you- any time soon. There's still time.

Astarion With Your Teen:

Arguably this is the best time between your daughter and him. It's simultaneously a surprise and yet- not at all? He's more like her confidante and best friend than strictly a father. He isn't one for harsh curfews and strict ways of dress- rather, he's the one she comes to when she's made some sort of mistake. Or when she's angry about something.

In general, Astarion withholds judgement of her, for better or worse. The unintended consequence is that you might become more of her enemy than Astarion, because he's less inclined to punish for questionable behaviors.

It's not that he's afraid of angering her or dealing with push back- rather that Astarion's frame of reference for what constitutes a mistake is ah... rather broken. Even in the beginnings of your relationship with Astarion, the mistakes that would anger him constituted dropping an entire building on his head or... risking being turned into a Mindflayer to help some old lady find her cat.

Not feeling up cute boys in alleyways.

As a result you'll likely need to have a few conversations with him about not being so lenient on her, because she needs to have structure in how to behave. Stealing things is in fact, not okay! And Astarion will listen, but he's always going to be a bit more of a friend than anything else.

A total gossip with her, too. You'll catch them huddled around the dinner table at night, both with a glass of wine (this was an argument that Astarion ended up winning, she's allowed one glass a week, but that's all!) in hand shittalking a storm together. Astarion has become the Baldur's Gate equivalent of a PTA mom, he shows up as stylishly as he can and beefs with the parents of whichever children have upset his daughter the most. And then when they get home they just toss it back and forth together.

But I want to stress, just because he doesn't punish her doesn't mean he isn't protective of her. Astarion is more protective than you are.

Once she begins dating you'll find yourself home alone semi-frequently, because Astarion will play the supportive, loving father part when she leaves- and immediately follow her out into the dark. He's had centuries to know what dangers lurk around every corner, and foggy memories of simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time before his nightmare began. He won't allow that to happen with his girl.

And it's funny, because Astarion will talk mad shit to himself while he does it. Logically he knows that she's with some teenage boy or girl, but it doesn't stop the petty, emotional side of him from rolling his eyes and sneering at the cheap one-liners and the dumb tactics that this would-be charmer utilizes. Really, taking her into dark alleys to get her to tuck into you? Going to a totally secret spot that Astarion has known about for at least a hundred and sixty years? Get real, kid.

And you have to try valiantly not to laugh when he comes home, huffing and puffing about it. Because you will hear every single petty thought he had the entire time, and you will know that he looks like a petulant child. It's very cute.

All in all, I think Astarion is a reckless, chaotic, petty father. And one that loves his child so, so much. To the point of ruin, to the point where suddenly staying in one place doesn't seem so bad, just so she can have friends. Helping people isn't the worst, just so she can know there are heroes in the world. Suddenly he's learning to bandage scrapes and kiss bruises, and having tears and snot on his clothes mean nothing compared to the grief of the one shedding them. He loves her in ways he didn't anticipate he ever could. Enough to know all of her ticks and secrets, to know when she's lying through her teeth and when she's being devastatingly obvious.

Learning to cook even when he can't eat, listening to her spin a story with a straight face and then- as she's stepping out the door- telling her to be careful with that boy and listening to her groan loudly as the door slams shut, a mischievous smile on his face.

Holding you and dancing you around, cradling you close with all the tenderness he has in the whole of his body and soul. Kissing you, calling you the mother of his child, thanking you for giving him something he didn't even know he'd wanted. A family.

Small and odd, but his.

#astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x tav #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #bg3 #baldur's gate 3

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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

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Cave boy Danny gets kidnapped by the joker. He's missing for an hour and a half at most but when the bats find him, he's sitting unbound in a chair looking at the jokers corpse. Danny's face has a soft smile and when asked what happened Danny just says 'justice'

Later they find video of Danny while tied up reading the jokers mind for absolute filth leaving him cry and broken on the floor, and the the camera glitches out and cute for a few minutes then comes back on to the joker dead and Danny free.

Danny wants it to be known that he hadn't gone looking for trouble, no matter what Tim Drake says. He only meant to go to the mall and do regular teenage things with the ward of cash Bruce had handed him.

He hadn't been lying when he said the mall back home was small, and after a lap, it got really dull. It was more entertaining to go to Nasty Burger than to linger around the few shops selling the same thing.

Alfred had let it slip the last time he came around for Danny's clothes- the old man had thrown a fit when Danny attempted to do his own laundry, and then Danny threw a fit claiming he had to do some of the chores or he wouldn't live there, and they came to an agreement to do 50/50 of responsibilities- that the mall was one of Bruce's favorite places to be as a teenager.

He didn't fully outsay it, but Danny could tell Alfred was getting tired of him not venturing out. Alfred also seemed bothered by Danny's lack of motivation for anything- and probably feared that he was slowly falling into depression for being stuck here.

Granted, Danny did not allow them to see him do anything besides sleep, eat, and laze about- with a shower every night- he could see where his concern was coming from. Danny was most active at night when he left a duplicate- he could not make it move or speak since it was a new power, so it placed it in his bed to appear asleep- and rushed away for a few hours to work on his ship.

So Alfred not so casually told him of Gotham Mall, with its five floors containing five hundred and twenty stores. The Mall at Amity Park only has seventy-one stores.

Danny was dying to see it just to see a mall that big.

Then the Butler made the deal sweeter by suggesting Danny do his outing alone, without his Wayne bodyguards, and convinced Bruce to give him some pocket money.

Nine hundred! Bruce's idea of pocket money is nine hundred, which means Danny could have an excellent time shopping. So Danny took a shower, threw on a nice pair of jeans that hugged all the right places- according to Steph- a black T-shirt, and scurried down the stairs.

At the door, Bruce talks in low voices with his sons- Damian and Jason- but all three turned to him once he appeared.

Damian's regular haughty expression evaporated once he caught sight of Danny's shirt. His jaw slacked in surprise as he breathed, "What are you wearing?"

"Oh, this? Alfred had it printed on a shirt for me." Danny gestures to the notable constellations floating in space's blue, green, and purple gasses.

Orion was the center of the work, being the only one with a figure shaped into a human with the stars that made him visible inside his body. The other constellations floating around him remained bright spots with no lines.

"I drew you that," Damian tells him as though Danny forgot where the image he passed along to Alfred had come from.

"Yeah, and I put it on a shirt 'cause it's awesome. I love it from the moment I saw it." Danny shrugs, watching with an amused grin as Damian's face flushes bright red.

The younger boy looks down at his feet, but not before Danny can spot the pure, unadulterated glee his words have caused in the kid.

"You have some taste, it seems." Damian mutters. Jason and Bruce are beaming, their eyes sparkling in a way that would belie their relationship is through adoption instead of blood.

"Most parents put their kid's drawings on the fridge instead of wearing them," Jason teases, and Danny shrugs.

"Most parents have talentless kids." He barely bites back the rest of his words. Damian isn't my kid because I am not Bruce, and he hurries to the doorway. "Anyway, I'm heading out. I'll be back by eleven,"

"You'll be back by nine." Bruce corrects, taking on the tone of a scolding parent. Danny is violently reminded of his own dad when Jazz is dating Johnny. He misses him. "Gotham is dangerous after dark. Alfred got us all to let you go alone, but that doesn't mean you can be reckless."

"Please, what's the worst that can happen?" Danny asked, practically skipping the stairs to the Uber Alfred called for him.

The worst that could have happened was that a stupid clown, calling himself Joker, had attacked the mall while Danny was browsing a gothic store.

He had been comparing two black dresses, trying to figure out which one Sam would prefer- and no, he was not blushing or feeling giggly thinking of her reaction. Just like he hadn't done the same when he picked up a personal electric planner for Tuck two floors down- when the Joker's goons had literally yanked him out of the store.

He only had a few minutes to blink in the bright light, as "Hot Topic" had been low light sightings for the store's ambiance, before he was thrown at the feet of a cackling man in purple.

His hands had been tied behind his back as they moved him, and Danny could only applause their quick hands. It's impressive for them to get it done with how much he thrashed.

Danny's first thought of the purple suit man was, "That's a ghost if I ever darn seen one," only to realize that his ghost sense had not gone off. The man just looked like that. How unfortunate.

"Well, well, if it isn't Brucie's newest charity case!" Joker shouted, yanking Danny's face up from his chin and leaning close to his face.

"Dude, personal space." He says, scrunching up his nose as the Joker's breath hits his nostrils. "Also, invest in some dental insurance."

"Oh, we have ourselves a jokester here, folks!" The clown's laugh did not hide the anger or shy away from madness. Danny suddenly felt he may have to tap into Phantom to get away from him.

This was a being that hurt others just because he could. Joker very existence was to simply harm others.

The very opposite of Phantom.

All of his instincts were screaming as Joker put his arm around Danny's shoulder and told the watching horrified crowd. "I'm a bit of a jokester myself. Why don't I give you private lessons and let these people judge whose death is funnier? Little Danny Kane or Bernad Dowd?"

The crowd parted, most gasping in horror as another teenage boy was dragged to the front. He was covered in wounds, bleeding a slow, sluggish mess, and his head bobbed as if though he was about to faint.

Danny's pupils shrunk, and his core raged as the boy was backhanded in front of him. Joker- the soon-to-be dead man- spread his arms, shouting for the whole world to be heard. "This is a special performance for Timothy Drake-Wayne. I hope you enjoy watching your boyfriend and adoptive brother partake in my game as a thank-you for your generous donation to the families of the last people I made laugh! I want everyone to know that any more donations to such families will have a similar show for their own loved ones!"

Danny's mind went white with a loud ringing, and somewhere far away, he was aware that Joker had them moved to a room to play his game.

He barely registered the camera being set up or tied to a chair surrounded by tortuous-looking items. He didn't even notice poor Bernard- already lost consciousness- tied to the chair beside him.

He only had eyes for the laughing man in purple.

But it was not Danny watching him, it was Phantom.

And Phantom was fresh out of mercy.

"No need for such an ugly frown," Joker chuckles, unaware of the ghost's core vibrating with the need to Protect what it recognizes a an attack on the Waynes.

An attack on his people.

"Let's turn that frown upside down!" Joker says, and- those are his last words.

Phantom pounces.

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

It takes an hour and a half for them to be found. It might have been more, but Danny had only counted for that amount. Bernad had been stabilized after he performed some emergency field first aid on him, trying his best to not look at the smear of bones and guts that used to be Joker.

Bruce breaks down the door with Tim rushing to his boyfriend in a frantic cry for his lover's name.

Danny steps back to let him have better access. He follows beside Bruce, watching Tim hold Bernad to his chest, breathing him in. He'll be fine. A few bruises and broken bones, but Bernad will leave.

"What happened?" Batman demands.

Danny looks up to stare at him right in the eyes despite the mask blocking his pupils. "Justice."

Bruce doesn't say anything in response, but the silence- for the first time since he found Danny in that cave- is heavy and weary.

Danny needs to hurry with his repairs. He thinks he is about to wear out his welcome at Wayne Manor. It's a pity he was just starting to like it there.

Master post link

#dcxdpdabbles #Cave boy #Part 6 #Offsecreen Murder #Danny just showed that he does have Bruce Wayne's volient reaction #Bernard Dowd #Damian was so excited about the shirt too #Danny was just minding his busniess

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rene-darling · 2 months

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Innocent scaramouce first time with dom fem reader?

Innocent little kabukimono

...yandere reader...red flag reader!...toxic relationships please do not imitate irl...I think.. I took way too much creative liberty with this..but-...im tired of seeing innocent readers x corrupted men. We need so corrupted yandere-ish readers!...

...kabukimono x yandereish reader...

Innocent little kabukimono who knows nothing of real life, and is just oh so naive. And you, this corrupted person who goes around doing whatever they please, leading on a man and then ditching him for good, a cruel harbinger who revels in the suffering of the innocent, and oh my is he innocent.

Kabukimono who doesn't know right from wrong, he doesn't even have life's most basic skills. The perfect man for you to corrupt.

Kabukimono who doesn't know that kisses are only meant to be shared by lovers and to be done in private, so you might be in the middle of talking to another harbinger when he approaches you and casually leaves a kiss on your lips.

The other harbinger and your underlings are left in a state of shock. He kissed you And he still has his head?? Kabukimono notices their weird stares and questions them "Hm? Do you not know? This is something friends do with each other!" he informs them proudly. He's your dearest friend.

Dear little kabukimono who gets scared when you come home drenched in blood, but you just smile at him and open your arms. He knows he can't deny you, you told him that denying your friend's hug is very rude!

So he hugs your bloody form, shivering a bit. You're so cold, like a corpse. It's okay. You reassure him, that you were just getting rid of some bad guys. Some real baddies who harm the innocent. This reassures him, wow, you're so cool! You help people by getting rid of bad guys right? Wow!

Innocent kabukimono who admires you so much. You're the coolest person out there, and he trusts you.

Pure little kabukimono who tries making you some yummy food, only to fail since for some reason it always turns out to sour, too hot, or just burnt. It was like someone was messing with him and doing it on purpose.

And when he tells you that he's messed up yet again and sees how your face falls, he can't deal with it. He's so dumb, so stupid, he can't help it! He can't do anything without you. So he starts crying, soft little hiccups turn into full-on sobs as globs of tears fall from his eyes.

Who hugs you and apologizes over and over, he's sorry he's such a dummy! He'll learn! He'll be more useful to you, he doesn't know where the dish went wrong! Please don't abandon him, he's sorry for being useless!

And it brings him so much comfort when you hug him back, holding his tiny waist as you almost feel bad for purposefully messing up his dish, not that you'll actually apologize and tell him.

When you're sitting on the couch and you pull him onto your lap, it startles him. He shifts around a bit uncomfortably, but it's fine, he'll manage. You tell him that this is what friends do! And since you both are such close friends he doesn't complain when you pull him into your lap, even in front of other people

Eventually, he gets used to it, when you assure him that, this is what friends do- and you're his dearest friend aren't you?

He's used to it. He's trained for it. He could simply be doing some work around the house but the second you pat your lap he drops whatever he's doing, crawling onto your lap like a cat.

He doesn't know any better, so while you're in important meetings with the harbingers he'll simply crawl onto your lap like it's his own personal bed. The other harbingers always stutter in their next words- they just never seem to get used to your little boytoy

Some of the harbingers find it rather amusing, questioning why you've kept him around this long. They've never seen you with one of your boy toys after the first 3 weeks. You simply shrug, perhaps it's his innocence, his naivety to the world..and people, around him. Whatever it is, he proves to be entertaining. Which is why you just can't get rid of him yet.

Cute little kabukimono who ignores any red flags. You following him around whenever you have some free time, or sending one of your henchmen after him whenever you aren't available. What do you mean that's weird? No- you just care for your friend, he's your dearest friend after all! You just wanna make sure nothing bad happens!

Innocent kabukimono who you've quickly learned has no idea of what intimacy is. He doesn't know the first thing about- love making.

Kabukimono who sits on your lap like another day, resting his head back onto your shoulder, you can hear his quiet breaths and whispers as he mumbles and rambles about his day thinking you were listening. You on the other hand were occupied by your own deranged thoughts, ...it's been long enough..hasn't it? You're sure he can handle you- fondling him further..right? You mean he should. You've done so much for him, and he can barely even cook a proper meal for you.

Biting down harshly on his neck while he was leaning it back on your shoulder eliciting gasps and whines from him. He tries grabbing your head, trying to push you away. It hurts! But you're too strong. So he sits there helpless tugging at your hair softly as he lets out little moans as you suck on his neck. He feels heat pool in between his legs... it's so weird..he doesn't like it.

Later that day he stares at himself in the mirror. Examining the big red purple-ish mark you left. Afterward, he questions you about it. Huffing as he asks the reason behind this strange good feeling mark you've left.

You reassure him, it's simply because he's your dearest friend. And you just want people to know that he's yours, he belongs to you. And no one else.

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iamthescalesofjustice · 2 years

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the thing is, nate and anders are regularly hooking up, very possibly dating, and velanna and sigrun are dating, and nate and velanna have chemistry and are maybe sliding into the start of a relationship with each other, and you would think justice and anders maybe have something going on but at this point in their lives they are just friends, its velanna who is actually willing to engage with justice on issues of oppression and its actually nate that is putting feelers out for something more with justice, and sigrun and justice dont quite understand each other but in a different way than they both dont get understand normal people, they are very much on a shared autistic to autistic communication wavelength so they are bros in that manner. meanwhile the primary tone of interpersonal relation between anders and velanna is awkward metamours and sigrun is willing to be friends with anders but he hasnt quite figured out how to do that.

and this is normal, this is the baseline state of my understanding of the awakening polycule before any other factors. different warden commanders bring different dynamics and potential additional entanglements to the table.

#anyway but madlad surana is still my fav complicating factor to this #nate and surana both fully believe surana is dating their respective partners and very possibly them as well #that he is an active component in all these relationships including their own burgeoning one. but hes not. surana is just being bros #undersocialized circle boy (gender neutral) disorder #the sleeping in other peoples beds? the bringing people food and gifts? the leaving bite marks and hickeys on anyone who lets him?#thats just surana being surana babey. plus the. yknow. circle-specific traumas and socialization #anders is too used to this to really understand what could potentially be weird about it #sigrun is new to it but considers it cool and fun bonding friendship times (only one who gets it)#nate finds a string of bite marks on anders inner thigh that definitely had to involve a lack of coverings to make and anders is just like #'yeah well you know how it is with surana' but no. nate does not know how it is. why wouldnt he think surana was dating them?#nate and velanna having like serious discussions about how to include surana for a date night #theyre not opposed to the idea of surana being involved in their relationship or anything. to clarify. both of them are looking #at this guy (gender neutral) and being like 'yes. this' its not that they dont want to be dating surana they are just looking to hash out #the how and why and think thats already the case and are thrown off when anders and sigrun are like 'lol what? no thats not it'#*'nate and velanna' all the way back at second tag lmao. im not redoing all that to fix it #if justice was not in a corpse surana would be biting him and bringing him food as well obviously btw #as it stands he cant have food and the biting would accelerate the breakdown of his current vessel :( but dont worry in our timelines we #can have our warden actually show up again later and then anders and justice can get the surana experience again #surana (having a romantic candlelit dinner with nate and velanna): this is so cool i love my friends ^_^#sigrun (being bit by a mildly feral elf who brings her cheesy rolls from the dining hall) this is so cool i love my friend ^_^

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gojoidyll · 2 months

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There is No Law that Emperors Must be Fair

Emperor ! Jing Yuan x Princess ! Reader

Chapter 1 | All Must Begin and End

Summary | You are set to marry the Emperor, Jing Yuan. In order to break the engagement, you stage an accident and fake having amnesia. But now, you own cruel, cold, and distant fiancé, who seemed to not want anything to do with you, is now acting all lovey dovey!

Warnings | age gap (y/n is around 20 - 22 yrs old), y/n stages an accident, y/n gets hurt, jing yuan is mean in the beginning, y/n is referred to as princess and with she/her pronouns, implied that jing yuan messes around with maids, grammatical errors, etc.

Fic Masterlist

“The only thing granted to all is an unfair reality, and I promise, by surrendering to me, you can guarantee a long prosperous life.”

The emperor held his weapon to your father’s throat with a steady hand. Your father, in his weakened state, could only kneel to the ground. All the while, you, dressed in your frilly dress, could only peek around the corner of the door and into the thrown room as the scene unfolded. You see, your kingdom was originally at war with the Emperor and his grand nation. However, five years later and your nation was nothing but dirt and corpses as the Emperor let lightning rain down and scorch the ground.

There was nothing your nation could do to annex yourselves out of the Emperor’s tyranny, and any little freedom you did have was now squashed underfoot.

“A long and prosperous life,” your father muttered out, “let’s face it dear Emperor, the only thing left for me and my people is death now that you have laid out your judgement.”

Jing Yuan let his blade fall from your father’s neck, “then how about we come to an agreement?”

Your father finally looked up and Jing Yuan continued, “your nation’s land, trade, commerce, and wealth all belong to the Xianzhou, and all you and your people have to do is live peacefully and quietly under my rule.”

Your father scoffed, “that is basically the same deal as before this war was started!”

Jing Yuan glanced over to where you were hiding behind the corner, the moment your eyes met, you made a small, surprised yelp before hiding fully behind the wall. Jing Yuan looked back down to your father, “then how about a marriage proposal. You have a daughter, don’t you? With a marriage between the Xianzhou and your nation, you can guarantee that you and your people won’t fall to despair and resort to another war. And I can promise you, if you decide to rise up and rally your forces against me again, then this nation truly will be no more.”

“You- you really expect me to give away my only daughter?”

“The choice is yours.”

Your father bowed his head, his lips quivering, “Alright, but what type of life will my daughter be living?”

“As of today, your land, your wealth, and even your daughter is no longer yours to concern yourself with. The moment you agreed was the moment you let everything go.”

Everything after that was a blur. A complete and utter haze that has left you wondering how it all came to be this way. When the war started five years ago you truly thought everything was going to work out as your father has promised, but now? Five months after the war and you find yourself preparing for a wedding with a man who doesn’t even want to speak to you or acknowledge your existence.

“Princess?”

You glanced away from your window, the room you were staying is was vast. Your bed was filled with fuzzy, warm blankets with pillows as fluffy as can be. The carpet was soft and expensive looking. The dresses in your closet smooth as silk and. Your dresser filled with various jewelry that you didn’t even know existed. It was a luxurious room.

“Yes?”

The one who had entered your room was your own personal guard. His “name” was Blade. You knew that that wasn’t his real name, and when you asked about it, well, he didn’t seem too keen on sharing anything with you. So, you were forced with calling him that tacky name.

“Do you plan on staying here all day again?”

“I do.”

“Fine, then I will be off training. If you want to go somewhere, call on me to escort you.”

“I will.”

He left without another word.

And you did feel a little sad when he left, but only because he was one of the few people in this country that ever talked to you. Everyone else always kept their lips shut anytime you would pass them by in the halls.

It was a luxurious life, but you couldn’t help but to miss everyone back home.

“Maybe it’s time I try to break out of this engagement…”

In the past five months, you learned that Jing Yuan was as cold, distant, and cruel as the rumors made him out to be. He didn’t care for you at all. Not to mention that anytime you did run into him or speak to him he always had a beautiful and busty maid by his side who was all handsy with him. Your mother, of course, warned you of this. She warned you how men would prefer the excitement of being with someone they couldn’t have. So, it was no surprise to you when you would catch a maid being too close and familiar with him.

Not that it mattered.

Because you had a plan.

It was dangerous, and it would hurt, but it would be worth it.

Calming your nerves, you stood up from your windowsill, the gardens below becoming too boring to look at any longer.

Your plan consisted of accidentally running into one of the maids and falling down the long flight of stairs and that led into the main hall. There was no doubt in your mind that you will get hurt. But you were counting on it. In fact, what you really wanted was to either get amnesia or fake getting amnesia. Which is exactly why you were thankful Blade was already gone. Because before, the silent man would always be by your side, if you so much as trip he would already have an arm around your waist in order to steady you. It was annoying. So when it became apparent that you would stay in your room all day for the past two months, Blade gradually started to leave you alone which was exactly what you had wanted.

“Now, if I remember correctly, today is laundry day and the maids will be rushing around with big baskets around this time. If I time it perfectly, then…”

You smiled, it took a lot of time to get the schedules down, but you were sure this was going to work. Getting injured, faking amnesia, it was the only way you could think of breaking the engagement off. Well, it was that or running away. However, Jing Yuan made it clear that you would be executed if you ran away…

Steadying your heart, you opened your door. Blade was nowhere in sight and the maids could be heard down the hall.

“Perfect!”

You put your plan into effect.

The moment you hiked up your dress and started running down the hall, you were glad to see the maids already rushing about. But you couldn’t run into one of them right now. No, your goal was the stairs. Running a bit further, you could already see the railing making you smile.

This is really going to hurt, but I would rather be hurt than being married to that man!

“Excuse me Princess!”

“Watch out!”

“Ahh! Princess!”

And soon everything went dark. Your vision, your mind, you could feel the first fall and the way your head slammed into the first set of stairs, but other than that – you were swiftly knocked out. Though, before you fully lost consciousness, you could only hope that you wouldn’t have to fake amnesia when you woke up. Because you knew Jing Yuan was sharp. And acting wasn't your specialty at all.

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hannibaldjarin · 9 months

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Before the Upside Down, Steve Harrington could sleep like the dead. Once he laid his head on the checkered pattern pillow, Steve would be oblivious to anything happening in the world around him as he found solace in his dreams.

Steve would never admit it to Tommy H or Carol, but his dreams were his only safe place. In Steve's dream world, he wasn't the son to absent parents or the perfect King Steve; he was whatever version of himself that would've never been allowed around the Harringtons or the population at Hawkins High. Steve was comforted by the anonymity that was created as he slept till an alarm or the sunlight peeking through his curtains woke him.

Before the Upside Down, Eddie Munson would laugh as he told the rest of Corroded Coffin about how much he slept during the weekend. But, groan when Uncle Wayne stomped into his bedroom at 4pm wondering, "Boy, since when did you become a vampire?"

Basically, Eddie found it hilarious that he could sleep 16 hours a day and still go to bed at 9pm every night. One thing about Eddie Munson before that fated afternoon with Chrissy Cunningham, he could sleep like a corpse and never worry about sleep avoiding his clutches. Because as Uncle Wayne or a member of Corroded Coffin could tell anyone, Eddie loved to sleep and would theoretically kill anyone who tried to disrupt his slumber.

After the Upside Down, Eddie Munson and Steve Harrington found solace in one another as they struggled to remember who they were before circumstances led them to emotional, mental, and physical scars. Steve could no longer find comfort in his dream world as it replayed his most traumatizing moments from the last couple of years. Eddie could no longer sleep like the dead since he actually knew what it felt like to lay limp and face death.

Eddie and Steve stare into one another's eyes as they share a pillow in Steve's massive bed. Eddie whispers to Steve about how envious he is of his past self as he dramatically recounts Uncle Wayne's stomps or Corroded Coffin's scoffs. As Eddie spoke, Steve wonders if Eddie could be trusted with his deepest secrets about who he wishes he could be.

As Eddie's giggles fade into the dark of the night, Steve clears in throat and begins to tell Eddie about the lack of safety he has felt since turning 12 and being handed bundles of money that were to be budgeted until his parents came back home from whatever business trip Jonathan Harrington needed to attend. Steve mumbles about Tommy and Carol, or anyone else, never being able to fill the hollow space that was this mausoleum of a house until Dustin Henderson hijacked Nancy's roses and forced Steve to go on a wild demo dog chase. With a smile that actually reaches Steve's eyes, he tells Eddie how he finally knew what a mutual love felt like when Robin refused to get a new job without Steve.

Eddie desperately wants to read between the lines and believe himself to be someone who brought something into Steve's life. The begging words he sends up to whatever universal force doesn't want to continue fucking his life are interrupted as Steve looks Eddie in the eyes and admits, "Eddie Munson, you brought light and noise into my life."

Steve Harrington never understood how significant it was to feel the sun on his skin until Eddie woke up from his coma after his encounter with the bats, and begged for the blinds in his hospital room to be opened. Eddie's smile changed as he adjusted to the new scars on his skin, but Steve has never seen something so beautiful in his life.

Steve flinched in noisy environments when he remembers how angry his father would get if Steve existed too loudly. But, since Eddie took Steve to the middle of nowhere and convinced him to just scream, Steve has found himself seeking out music that taught him to release his emotions instead of pushing them further and further down.

Steve Harrington finally found safety in the real world when Eddie Munson whispers, "Stevie, please let me kiss you."

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vivwritesfics · 1 month

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Set The World On Fire

Chapter Eight

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Mafia AU

1.3K

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There wasn't much time for anything when they got back from the wedding. Lando drove her to her apartment and parked the car outside. "You coming up?" She asked as she ran her fingers through his hair.

Lando let out a breath and dropped his hands from the steering wheel. "I should go home," he muttered. "Make sure the old man hasn't croaked."

"Lan," she whispered, her head falling onto his shoulder. "Do you want me to come with you?"

He shook his head. "I'll take you to the house one day, but not today," he said.

She kissed his cheek. "Call me later, yeah?" She asked as she pushed open the door. Lando nodded his head, turning to watch as she grabbed her things out of the trunk. He waved through the window as she headed into the apartment.

Lando didn't wait to see if she'd come to the window. He drove off as soon as she went inside.

His drive to his house was silent. He hadn't felt like this since that night that Carlos had turned up in his kitchen. The night he had met her.

Lando parked his car on the grass and got out with little regard for the tyre marks he'd left on the lawn. He marched into the house and up the stairs.

"Lando!" Shouted Will, his right hand man, but Lando ignored it as he headed up to his fathers room.

The condition he had left his father in hadn't been a good one, but, when Lando walked into his room, he saw nothing more than a corpse. He hated that he was surprised when his father opened his eyes. "You look like shit," said Lando as he sat beside his bedside.

His father coughed. "Is it done?"

"Are you asking me if they're married?" He asked, his hands in his pockets as he leaned back.

"Yes."

Lando released a breath. "They're married, yeah," he said and his father let out a disgruntled noise. "What?" He asked and resisted the urge to kick the legs of the bed frame.

"If I had the chance, I would have married you off before you became the head of the family," he said.

Lando froze. If his father had married him off to someone, it would have been someone from another family. Like how his sister had been married off to Carlos, he would have been married off to Lance's sister, for example. (But this is a very bad example. Her father had allowed his children to find love on their own and get married in their own time).

"What if I've met someone?" He asked.

His father started laughing, but this soon led to coughing. He took a minute to clear his throat and looked at his son. "Does she know who you are? Does she know what you have done?" He asked, and Lando refused to answer. "It'll only get worse once you become head of the family," he said and laughed again.

When it turned into more coughing, Lando stormed out of the room. He stormed his way through the house, past his sisters room, which remained untouched, and into his office.

Lando was given two minutes of solitude. There were papers on his desk, but he didn't look through them. Not yet, anyway. Instead he pulled out his phone.

There hadn't been many opportunities for photographs in Spain, but she had found them. She had set his phone up against the window as they stood on the balcony, using the timer to get a picture of them with the sunset behind. There were pictures Lando didn't know she had taken, with half of her face visible as she grinned at the camera, him sleeping behind her.

How could he ever admit to who he was, what he had done?

There was a knock on his office door. "Come in," Lando called as he locked his phone and slipped it into his pocket.

Will Joseph walked into the office, a stack of papers in his arms. He threw them down with the papers Lando already had to go through and sat opposite him. There was a beat of silence, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

Will spoke first. "Can I say something slightly out of sorts?" He asked and Lando nodded his head. He needed something out of sorts at that moment. "Your dad pulled me into his room," Will said. Still, Lando was nodding, but there was no meaning behind it. "He wants all of the responsibilities of the head of a family to be pushed onto you."

It wasn't a surprise to Lando, especially after the meeting he just had.

"Lando, I think he knows he's in his final few days."

That night, after going through just under half of the paperwork, Lando called her. He sat in his bed, his shirt unbuttoned but still on his body as he pressed his phone to his ear. They spoke for hours, until they both fell asleep with the call still going.

It was a better habit then calling up Max (Fewtrell) and dragging him to the club and drowning their sorrows.

It really was only a few days until his father passed away. Lando hated himself, but only because he didn't feel anything but dread. And that dread was because he had to call the Sainz family, so that he could let his sister know.

He didn't tell Y/N, didn't want her at the funeral. If he needed her support he would have asked for it. But he didn't want her around members of the Norris family, or members of other families, didn't want to put her at risk again.

The funeral was a bleak affair. Max (Fewtrell) had insisted on joining Lando at the funeral, being his support system. But Lando didn't need support for the funeral. He needed support when he became Norris, though.

Becoming the head of the family wasn't something that Lando wanted. For days he couldn't see Y/N, too buried beneath paperwork. He thought he had gotten through all of it before his fathers death, but Will just dumped more and more onto his desk.

He missed her. He really fucking missed. His texts to her were few and far between, but she didn't complain, didn't tell him she couldn't do this anymore.

After a week of sorting through paperwork his father had left for him, Lando was ready to put a bullet between his eyes. Instead, he pulled out his phone and sent her one quick text.

Landino 💗💗 Get dressed into something comfy, I'll be there in half an hour

He left his paper on his desk and got changed out of his suit. Instead he wore a black hoodie and sweats as he left the house, got into his car and drove to her apartment.

He parked up and looked towards her window. She had been waiting, looking out for his car. As soon as she saw it she pushed away from the window and left the apartment, making her way out to him. Lando watched as she crossed the street and climbed into the car.

She really had dressed comfy. In tartan pyjama pants and a thick, fluffy hoodie, she climbed into the passenger seat of the car and leaned over the centre console to kiss him. "Hi," she said as she sat back.

Lando grinned and began driving away. "I missed you," he said. His moments of vulnerability were rare, but he'd had plenty with her already. "Work has gotten kind of crazy lately."

"It's okay, I get it," she replied. He spared one glance at her to see her toe off her shoes and placed her feet on the edge of the seat.

That pulled a smile from his face, the fact that she was that comfortable with him already. "Where are we headed?" She asked as he turned left.

Lando sucked in a breath. "My mum's place."

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dmitriene · 3 months

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THOUGHTS ABOUT SIMON NOT SHYING TO SHOW YOU OFF.

cw: fluff, comfort, nsfw, smut, established relationship, brief mentions of simons past, possesive behavior, mentions of another task force characters, kisses, pet names, public sex, passionate sex, unprotected p in v, marking, creampie pairing: bf simon ghost riley x gf fem reader

✎ 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵. 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢𝘴𝘬𝘴. 𝘢𝘰3. ˑ༄

you and simon have been in a relationship for a relatively long time so that the man behind the balaclava of the skull and the nickname of the ghost, a man whose hands are stained with blood up to the elbows and dark circles have sunk under the dark pools of his eyes has become more than his dark image, his past, blossoming with your help.

his soul was no longer tormented by memories flashing like annoying flies and sleepless nights, cursed by the three cursed obscenity under his breath when he looked at the white shabby ceiling, now he fell asleep under the softness of your body near his chest, watching your chest heave and eyelashes flutter, soft sighs slide from your lips, now he was no longer tormented by memories, now he no longer was faced by faceless corpses.

if he could put all his gratitude into his words, he would not be silent for a minute, but instead of words, his eyes and actions spoke, warm brown ones always secretly accompanied you and stuck to your back until the moment you disappeared from his field of vision, calloused hands carefully held yours or lay with a landing weight on the very bottom of your back, he accompanied you, drove you, saw you off, and perhaps very rarely expressed his affection verbally, but when a languid baritone sounded like lightning through the sky in three words over your ear — «i love you», you knew that he was attached to you.

therefore, simon was not afraid to show you as his most precious treasure to everyone around him, he was not afraid to hold your hand, intertwining his fingers almost in a knot, he was not afraid to kiss you in public, raising his mask only to his nose and maybe covering the two of you with his palm, muffling your meek protests with a brief but deep kiss, licking your bottom lip hot and wet, searching for an entry, before pulling back and straightening himself out, narrowing his eyes in a smile at your embarrassment and slight frown in your brows.

from time to time you could catch him openly praising you, be it within the walls of your house, where he would stand in the aisle to the room or sit on the bed while you were changing clothes, endlessly repeating in a grump, but truly loving manner that — «you're so beautiful like that, fuck, my gorgeous love», or in public, sitting in a bar with his comrades from the task force, to whom he had no problem showing you off, trusting them like family, trusting them with you, almost all the time watching you sit and communicate with them, giggling, forcing him at a certain moment to squeeze your cheeks and lean over to kiss you, causing you to squeak in dismay, squeezing his shirt on his chest into fists while he released your lips with wet pop, noticing out of the corner of his eye how some of the boys were embarrassed by such a display of intimacy, but this didn't stop him from purring — «sorry, you just so lovely while giggling all like that, doll»

and he, as if unexpectedly, had no problem letting the others hear how lucky he was, taking you away from the table in the process, only humming at your giggling and slightly interested — «where are we going, simon? baby?? are we going home?» which he may have been rude, but ignored, and the rest of the task force either guessed or simply got away with it, but one way or another you find yourself in a narrow hallway on the way to the toilets, pressed against the wall in a darkened corner, when his lips press against yours with heat and wetness, licking into your mouth.

he only brought you two here because he couldn’t contain his arousal while looking at you, relaxed, cheerful, and yet incredibly beautiful — and he would have been glad to let you talk to his mates longer, but he simply couldn’t stop himself from pinning you against the wall, pulling his hands under your cute, loose dress that you wore especially for this meeting, and running his thick fingers along the edges of your panties and right along your clothed slit, pressing teasingly before starting to gradually lower them, making you let an impatient, albeit an embarrassed whine — «si.. there's people..»

simon just grunts as always, taking a moment to lower your slightly drenched panties, his touch gentle, always so, but yet impatient.

he then swiftly unzips his pants, his cock springing free from the confines of his boxers, throbbing, meaty length with dark red tip that leaks precum and gets him all wet and sticky as he pumps himself couple of times, guiding himself between your slightly parted legs, teasing your slick slit and lightly brushing against your clenched cunt, eliciting a moan from you, sweet, shyly and almost chocked from embarrassment sound.

pressing his broad chest against your back, he pins you against the cold wall of small hallway corner, his body heat radiating against your skin as anticipation hangs heavy in the air as he positions himself, ready to stuff himself full in your wet heat, resting his head on your frail shoulder and muttering in your ear, deeply, as if growling, holding all his pent up arousal so as not to overwhelm you and peppering the side of your face — «s'pretty, just.. gonna be real quick, lovie, couldn't help myself»

unable to refuse, you silently arch, ducking your head slightly under your arm that are braced on the wall, when simon nothing but growls appreciatively at the sight of your plush ass pressed against his pubic bone and arch of your spine, his desire intensifying.

thick, warm palm squeezes your butt with his free hand, relishing in the softness and warmth beneath his touch, albeit possessively, letting his fingers sink into the warm skin and leave scarlet imprints from the touch.

with a firm grip, he pulls your asscheek slightly, allowing him to guide his throbbing cock inside your cunt, your folds flutter around him as he eases inch by inch, giving you time to adjust to the slight stretch.

he can feel his bulbous head leaking, the slickness making it easier for him to slide into you until he is fully buried inside your warm depths, bottoming out fully till he's balls deep, you squeeze and clench around him till your hole relaxes and he can move a tad bit, looking behind his shoulder just to see the dim lit bar hallway still missing of people, and it gives him more openness to action without the fear of you being uncomfortable.

and you don’t even feel it no more when simon starts with a few slow, testing thrusts, his hands resting on top of yours on the wall, he squeezes your hands gently, intertwining his fingers with yours, providing a comforting touch amidst the growing intensity and strokes your knuckles, his lips leaving quick kisses on your cheek and the sides of your face, distracting you from the increasing speed of his thrusts.

his hips roll and snap, driving his thick cock deeper with each movement, the strain of pleasure causes moans to escape your lips, muffled by the fear that someone going to hear you both, or he's friends that will try to find you, but still, unable to muffle them fully.

your eyes roll back in pleasure, losing yourself to the sensations coursing through your body, your cunt clenches around him, coating his thick cock in slickness, heightening the friction and pleasure for both of you as he thrust deeper, brushing against your spongy spots and finally finding the right place, hitting rapidly.

he knows this place inside you better than you yourself, thrusting his dick rapidly with just the right amount of force, the pleasure is overwhelming, causing your legs to tremble beneath you, knees buckling as if branches.

simon grunts right below your ear, his hot breath tickling your skin, as he presses you further into the wall, his bulky form squishing against your body, creating an intimate shield, he can let people hear, but not look at how you melt against him and become a beautiful, fucking pretty mess, it's just for his eyes.

his balls slap against the swell of your ass with each powerful thrust, the sound echoing in the room, as his hands squeezes yours tightly, ensuring you have no way to muffle the throaty mewls that escape your lips, full of desperate mewls of his name and unintelligible babbling — «si! si-simon, yes, s-s' deep! hmnn!» the sounds of your pleasure reverberate, unabashedly reaching the ears of anyone passing by, leaving no doubt to the passionate encounter taking place between you in this small, narrow corner.

simon's ears perk up as he hears your desperate babbles, and it's only serves to fuel his desire, and he growls in response — «f-fuck.., what ya doing to me, doll» and increasing the pace of his thrusts.

he presses his face into your neck, kissing softly and moving against your skin with his teeth, scratching, alternating between gentle bites and leaving marks in the form of hickeys, let them bloom on your skin like pinkish purple flowers, the one's he's happy to pepper your flesh with.

his hips snap against your ass with greater force, his cock driving deeper in your slickness and hitting your g-spot with each powerful thrust, simon shows no signs of slowing down, his determination evident as he continues to ravish you from the inside, each vein on his shaft rub against your gummy walls, fucking your brains out.

your grumbles and throaty moans intensify, fueling his hunger even more, as well when you arch deeper, pressing yourself against his fast and desperate thrusts, seeking even greater pleasure, the sound of your voice and the way you respond to him cause his cock to throb, aching for release, leaking without stopping as his head plunge against your spongy spot, aching to fill you, as he relishes in your clenching and spasming.

as his cock continues to leak inside you, the slickness adding to the intensity of your pleasure, he relentlessly hits all the soft spots inside you, not giving you a moment to catch your breath, knocking it from your lungs, rhe burning sensation in his hips matches the sensation in your ass from his forceful snaps, heightening the pleasure for both of you.

as you feel the familiar, lava hot feeling in your lower stomach coiling tighter with each passing minute, simon senses that he's reaching his own limit as well, he buries his face in your shoulder, not letting himself kiss you, allowing you to sob against the wall from the overwhelming ecstasy, as your body shudders uncontrollably, pressing against him tighter as you struggle to find any relief from the impending climax that looms just here.

simon is completely lost in his own primal desires, fucking into you with relentless fervor, he shushes your babbled mewls, with lazy kisses on your chin, trying to provide some comfort amidst the overwhelming pleasure, as your words die on your heavy tongue and everything you let out is just — «close, i'm close, simon, hhmn, ah, yes!» as you press against his body, taking every harsh thrust with a mix of pleasure and pain.

your walls and folds spasm and clamp around his slick cock, signaling your impending climax, and then it hits you like a tidal wave.

your face lowers, your eyes rolling back until all you see is darkness, your body goes limp, shuddering uncontrollably as your cunt pulses and releases slick and cum, coating his shaft in your essence, letting it drip from your puffy lips and make a mess.

meanwhile, simon's tip curls and bumps against your g-spot more slowly and smoothly, prolonging his own pleasure, he throbs inside you, releasing warm, thick milky cum, painting your insides with his potent seed, filling you just as nice while panting in your ear and pepper you with soft kisses, finally releasing one of his hands to touch your chin, tipping it as you lift your head dazedly, letting him kiss your lips tenderly, murmuring gently — «thank you darling, did so good, such a good girl, just take it, yeah? t-take it» as he pump his cum in you.

he clearly ensures that his cum is thoroughly buried in your loose, wet hole before easing himself out with a quiet, slick noise, simon looks down at the white ring on the base of his shaft and the sticky mess that now coats your cunny, his eyes heavy lidded with satisfaction.

a deep, contented growl rumbles in his chest as he observes how his seed slightly seeps from your throbbing cunt, trailing along your thighs and dripping onto your panties, so he gathers some of the cum with his fingers, rubbing it against your sensitive folds, stuffing it back inside you, eliciting sobs from you as you remain too sensitive from the intense pleasure.

— «i know, love, i know, took it so good, just relax» he coos softly, his voice filled with a mixture of tenderness and dominance, as he fumbles with his pants and boxers, quickly hiding his now soft cock back inside his pants.

with a nonchalant disregard for the wet mess, he puts your panties back on you, not minding the mixture of his cum and your slickness that clings to the fabric, before spinning you around gently and picking you up in his arms, letting your limp legs wrap around his waist as he helped you, holding gently with one arm, while he adjusted the hem of your dress into place with other, hiding everything intimate from prying eyes, at lough not from everyone.

as soon as he turns and begins to carry you back towards the very inside of the bar, away from the dark corner, he bewitches around the corner and meets a well familiar scott, johnny, taking in a familiar dark mop of hair, arranged in mohawk, blue eyes that look with a certain taken aback when he immediately breaks through the silence in his usual barely intelligible speech — «eh, here you are, everyone was worried where you two been» but immediately shuts up when he takes in a situation better.

johnny is not stupid, he perfectly notices such details as the slight liddenes in brown eyes and your absolutely fatigued figure, which led you to bury yourself in simon's shoulder, almost sleepily, and he catches a glimpse of the bite marks and hickeys on your skin, simon's carelessly buttoned pants and your slightly wrinkled dress, causing his lips to break into a grin, and his eyes squint slyly, understandingly, and simon already feels where this will lead to.

but instead of further words, johnny pats him on his free shoulder, a little weaker than usual, out of sincere concern not to disturb you, before looking over his shoulder at the rest of the boys, to their table in a quieter corner, before looking back at simon, tilting his head, and pronouncing with slight humor, but no less valuable for this — «alright, i see, away with ye, take the bonnie home, i'll tell the boys that you two had to go, it was nice to see ya that happy around her»

simon's eyes flutter with clear respect, a fragile tenderness for a person who seems to be lending him a helping hand, albeit in such a small way, before he nods and they shake hands hastily, rather rudely, after which johnny leaves back to the table, and he, kissing the top of your head gently, gently strokes the curve of your back and whispers — «let's get back home, yeah, sweetheart?»

and you can only nod weakly, burying yourself in his shoulder more actively, before allowing him to take everything into his own hands and, squeezing you more possessively, head towards the exit.

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intoxicated-chan · 3 months

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hi bae ! if you’re comfortable with writing a forced proximity with daryl when him an reader are friends that would be so cuteeee

𝐃𝐨𝐧❜ 𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐚 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

Summary ➳ After nearly a week without proper shelter on a run, you both finally found a house, only to realize there’s one bed.

(A/n) ➳ Wasn’t sure if this what forced proximity means since the first thing that came to mind was the one bed troupe, my favorite. If you want to request again, please don’t hesitate!

Word Count ➳ 670

Content Warnings ➳ Female Reader, fluff, mentions of death/corpse, sleep deprivation, light swearing, One Bed Troupe…

“We’re holdin’ up ‘ere for the night.” Daryl muttered, his eyes scanning the room.

You slumped against the wall with a heavy sigh, wiping your sweaty forehead with an arm. You watched from the corner of your eye as Daryl made sure the house you decided to spend the night in was completely safe.

You heard him groan or curse whenever he found a weak spot, you got up once to help him only for him to point you away and demanded you sleep for once.

Like he was one to talk. The dark circles under his eyes were getting darker and darker by the day. He was the toughest guy you knew but you could see him getting weaker as well.

You kicked open another room, searching cabinets for medical supplies, canned food, drinks… Anything that wasn’t or seemed expired.

You shoved whatever you could find in your bag, your nose scrunching everytime you passed the couch with a rotten corpse on it.

You held your dagger up as you opened up the next room, finding it empty but a bedroom. Seemed to be a couple’s bed.

A single bed.

“Fuck me.” Your tongue clicked, folding your dagger away.

“Somethin’ wrong?” Daryl suddenly appeared looking around the room.

“There’s one bed.” You pointed out.

“I don’ see a problem.”

“Daryl, you need to sleep. You’ve been pushin’ yourself nonstop.”

“M’fine.” Daryl left immediately, giving you no chance to refuse.

You laid in the deceased’s bed, your eyes staring at the ceiling, unable to properly sleep, something that you wanted for days now.

You knew Daryl was pacing outside, his crossbow tightly in his hands, turning his head at any sound.

You groaned, leaving the room and found Daryl sitting at the covered window, peeking through the holes.

“How long you gonna sit there?” You asked him, sitting on the ground next to him.

“Walkers ‘round. Only a matter of time ‘fore they find us.” Daryl mumbled, not taking a second to look at you.

You tugged at his arm. “Go, sleep. I’ll take watch.”

“M’fine.” Daryl repeated, more sternly.

“Daryl.”

“(Y/n).” Daryl pulled his arm back, resting on his lap. “Sleep. Ya ne’er said it, but I know yer tired.”

“I can’t sleep if I know you ain’t sleepin’.”

“Ne’er said it ‘fore.”

“‘Cause I know you were sleepin’. C’mon, at least an hour.”

Daryl shook his head. “No, go.”

You went back without a fight, knowing how stubborn he could be. After a couple minutes of thinking, you were on the verge of falling asleep until you heard the door creak open.

The soft thuds of Daryl’s shoes.

You kept your eyes closed, listening as you heard a clack. Daryl putting his crossbow up on the wall.

You felt the mattress dip under his weight. “Hey.” He whispered.

You cracked an eye open, looking up at him.

“Don’ say anythin’. I jus’... I wanna sleep.” He remained in his clothes, on top of the blanket.

A smile formed as you scooted a little closer, laying on his arm as he already felt tense.

Daryl felt your breathing slowing down, letting him know that you fell asleep.

And as you slept, you couldn’t help feeling relaxed for once.

The sun shone through the cracks of the boarded up windows. You opened your heavy eyelids, using a hand to block the sunlight.

You yawned, attempting to get up. “Don’.” You heard Daryl said, tiredly.

You had now noticed you were laying on his chest, comfortably, with his arm draped around you.

“Mornin’ to you too.” You greeted him. “Sleep wel?”

“Don’ say a damn thing.” Daryl grumbled in response, voice rough.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Too late for that, Daryl.” You teasted, poking him in the chest gently.

“Shut up.” He huffed in annoyance, but you could see the amusement in his eyes.

You both lay there for a moment longer, feeling his thumb running over your side.

“Now get off me.”

“Jus’ a couple more minutes.”

“Off.”

Taglist ➳ @celtic-crossbow , @mrdixon , @duffmckagansbandana , @raspberryslxt , @lor-geeked , @thegeorgiahuntsman , @snailss ,

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