#to relieve the sensory part

[6eachfuneral]

THIS APPEARANCE EPIPHANY IS EATING AT MY BRAAAAIIIIIN. I am wishing everyone who made me insecure a very miserable rest of their life.

[unboundprompts]

hi! i wanted to ask how could i write a scene of a band performing and make it flow smoothly? Reactions to it and inner dialogue of the leader singer while performing?

I hope that makes sense!

Thank you :)

How to Write a Band Performance

Set the Atmosphere with Sound and Sensory Details

Use sensory language to capture the energy of the music, the movement on stage, and the audience’s reaction. Think about the sounds of instruments, the lights, the thrum of bass vibrating through the floor, or how the crowd looks.

Example: The drums kicked in, a thunderous heartbeat that pulsed through the packed venue. Strings followed, filling the air with an electric charge, and the lights dimmed just enough for the crowd to lean in, hungry for the next note.

Anchor the Lead Singer’s Focus

The lead singer might catch moments in the crowd, like a fan mouthing every lyric, someone laughing, or even seeing familiar faces in the sea of people. These little connections add a human touch and make the performance feel alive.

Example: He spotted a girl in the front row, eyes closed, every word leaving her lips like a prayer. She knew each lyric by heart, maybe better than he did. That look kept him grounded—kept him singing.

Use Inner Dialogue to Show Nerves, Confidence, or Distraction

Let the lead singer’s mind wander a bit, but keep it tethered to the music. They might think of something unrelated that they suppress to stay focused, or maybe they reflect on what this song means to them, especially if it’s deeply personal or symbolic.

Example: Here we go. Breathe. Just like rehearsal. But it was never just like rehearsal. Each word brought him back to the night he wrote it—a night he barely survived. He shook off the thought. No. Tonight, it’s just for them.

Describe Body Movements and How They Connect to Emotion

Physical sensations can be as telling as dialogue. The lead singer might feel the warmth of the spotlight, the stickiness of sweat on their skin, or the way their voice feels strong, raw, or strained.

Example: He gripped the mic stand, fingers tight, and leaned forward. His voice cracked on a high note, but he let it, gave it to the crowd raw. They wanted his truth, his realness. That was all he had to give.

Show the Crowd’s Reaction

Describe reactions like a wave, where energy ebbs and flows. The crowd might sway during slower parts, roar during the chorus, or go silent in the song’s more intimate moments. This back-and-forth dance adds rhythm to the scene.

Example: As the first chorus hit, the crowd became a sea of outstretched hands, fingers clawing for a piece of the music. A roar rose, then softened as they sang with him, their voices tangling with his own, something fragile and fierce all at once.

Balance Between Action and Inner Thoughts

To keep the scene flowing, alternate between what the singer does (interacting with the mic, moving on stage) and what they think. Too much inner dialogue could slow down the scene, so give action and reaction space to keep the reader engaged.

Example: He took a step back, holding the last note, letting it resonate through the space. He stole a glance at his bandmates. They were lost in the music too, faces set, eyes closed. It felt like the old days—a secret between them, shared with everyone.

End with a Climactic Moment or a Release of Tension

End the scene with a dramatic finish, like a powerful note, a burst of applause, or even silence if it’s an emotional song. The lead singer could feel relieved, drained, or exhilarated by the end.

Example: As the last chord faded, a brief silence hung over the crowd—a pause, a heartbeat—before it shattered with applause. He closed his eyes, letting it wash over him, knowing that for now, the song was enough.

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Sweet Understanding - Emily Prentiss

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

——

Summary: Reader has a rough day at work and Emily knows just how to relieve some stress.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: reader has sensory issues but specific condition is not mentioned. inspired by my real life experiences, i have adhd and get very easily overstimulated so i did get a little self indulgent with this one lol

TW: fingering, oral sex, praise kink, afab reader, use of “girl” and she/her pronouns in reference to reader, mentions of sensory issues, borderline excessive use of pet names, reader is submissive & slightly unsure of herself

Rating: R, there’s a lot of fluff here but it develops into smut so 18+ only please!

——

You shut the door a little too hard behind you as you dropped your bag to the floor, sigh of relief falling from your lips.

“What’s wrong baby?” Emily questioned, getting up from her place on the couch to walk over to you. Her slender arms wrapped around your frame, pulling you into a much-needed hug after the day you’d had.

“Work was awful, my whole body is sore and I had to fight through how overstimulated everything about that place makes me all day.” You stumbled over your words, your brain struggling to form a coherent thought with how low your social battery was from all of the interactions you had to engage in throughout the day.

“I’m sorry you had a tough day sweet girl, is there anything I can do to help?” Her hand cupped your cheek, thumb swiping softly over your skin. You lean into her touch, looking into her eyes as you search for any semblance of hesitation, but there is none. Emily doesn’t have any reservations about your relationship, she knows how tough your sensory issues are to handle and all she wants is to make life a little easier for you in any way she can. You’re too precious to her, she never wants to see you in pain if she can help it.

“Maybe a bath…together?” You suggest, crimson blush rising over your cheeks. You’re still a little shy to initiate intimacy of any kind, learning to ask for touch from the one person who’s touch you desire most is all so foreign to you after a lifetime of discomfort with contact from others.

“That is an excellent idea, can you get the water running angel? I just have to grab a couple things and I’ll be right in.” You nod and she kisses you on the forehead before parting, making you way to your ensuite bathroom. When Emily was apartment hunting she specifically wanted a tub deep enough to fit two people. As strong as the front she puts up is, she’s really a romantic at heart, and recreating a romcom bubble bath scene had been on her bucket list for awhile. You were grateful for that now, illicit thoughts floating through your mind as you watched the water slowly fill up the tub.

Emily finally joined you, setting your favorite scented lotion on the bathroom counter and pouring some bubble bath into the still-rising water.

“Give me your hands, sweetheart.” She cooed, opening the bottle of lotion and taking a small amount into her palms. She took your hands in hers, her fingers gently massaging the tired muscles in your palms and giving the cracked skin on the back of your hands some much-needed moisture. She knew you couldn’t stand the feeling of your hands being dry, it was one of the seemingly small things that she could help, and she didn’t mind getting to have a little extra time holding your hand.

Once she finished, she helped lift your top over your head, goosebumps forming as the cool air hit your bare skin. You both continued to undress until you were completely bare, your nipples perking at the exposure.

Emily took your hand, letting you brace yourself against her for extra stability as you stepped into the tub, sinking into the warm water. Once you were properly settled she stepped in behind you, her back resting against the side of the tub as she pulled your hips back so you were between her legs, your back flush with her chest. You snuggled into her, resting your head on her shoulder and enjoying the way the warm water soothed your aching legs.

“You’re so beautiful babydoll.” Her voice was smooth, and her praise caused your cheeks to flush again.

“Thank you my love.” You purred, relaxing fully against her. Her fingers began to trace patterns up your sides, fingertips dancing along the sides of your breasts. A chill ran up your spine at the sensitive touch, a dull ache growing between your thighs. Her touch became more intense, hands cupping your breasts, gently kneading as your nipples rubbed against her palms. You whined, growing desperate for more.

“What do you need, sweet girl?” She asked, rolling your nipples between her fingers in hopes of eliciting more sounds from you. It worked, whimpers falling from your lips as she tweaked your sensitive buds.

“Touch me please.” You whine, squirming against her.

“I’m already touching you angel, you need to be more specific.”

“Between my legs, please.” You can’t articulate exactly what you want because you’re honestly not sure, you just want her to do whatever she wants with your pussy.

Her right hand movies to your inner thigh, fingers inching closer until she traces your labia, teasingly rubbing just beside your clit. You whine in frustration before taking her hand in yours and placing her fingers on your clit.

“Right here.” You sigh, closing your eyes in anticipation. She rubs slowly at first, almost agonizingly so before picking up the pace, rubbing quick circles over your bundle of nerves. The water begins to sway ever so slightly around you, her arm movements creating gentle waves. You nuzzle your forehead against her neck, soft moans falling just beneath her ear, spurring her on. Before you know it she’s dipping her index and middle fingers inside of you, thumb taking over rubbing your clit as she curls her fingers inside of you.

You’re losing all semblance of reality, only able to focus on her slender fingers pumping expertly into you, coaxing out desperate whimpers as your release draws closer and closer.

Your walls start to contract around her fingers, telling her you were teetering on the edge of release.

“That’s it sweetheart, let go.” She whispers, holding her pace steady until you cry out, a broken sob wracking your body as euphoria washes over you, the tension that had built up throughout the day finally releasing.

Emily slows her ministrations, helping you work through your orgasm before withdrawing her fingers from your pulsing cunt. She plants a kiss on your forehead once more, looking lovingly into your hazy eyes.

“So good for me, angel.” She praises, letting you recover for a moment. You plant kisses along her jawline, taking your hand in yours.

“Thank you.” You sigh, content to sit here with her until the end of time.

“I’m always happy to help you, no matter what.”

“I know, but you’re always so busy and I don’t want to add any stress, it’s not fair to you.” Guilt starts to creep in slightly as you realize you hadn’t asked how her day was when you got home.

“Baby, the team hasn’t had a case in 2 weeks, I’ve done nothing but paperwork all day. You are under a lot more stress than I am right now, and I know you’ll return the favor so don’t worry about it.” She reassured, squeezing your hand.

“Can I do that now? Return the favor, I mean.” You start to rise from the tub, reaching out your hand to help Emily up. She smiles at you, nodding approval as she steps out. The two of you quickly dry off, trailing into the bedroom.

“How do you want me?” She questions, okay with whatever position is most comfortable for you.

“Sit against the headboard and spread your legs, please.” You tell her, always polite even in your desires. She does just what you ask, giving you a full view of her gorgeous cunt. You climb on the bed with her, moving to lay on your stomach with your head between her legs. You look up at her longingly and she smiles down at you, lightly nodding to give you the go ahead.

You dive in, tongue lapping long flat stripes through her folds, desperate to taste as much of her as possible. You were hungry, savoring the delicious taste of her arousal as you dipped your tongue inside of her. Her hand found its way to your hair, fingers tangling in soft strands as she pulled you closer.

Your hand joined your mouth, fingers sliding into her to feel the warmth of her walls pulsing around them. Your tongue gave kitten licks to her clit, slowly increasing pressure and pace until you had her moaning and grinding her hips against you. You wrapped your lips around her bundle of nerves, sucking as you curled your fingers, knowing just how to take her over the edge. You needed to taste her cum, desperate for the sight of her milky white release on your fingers.

“Don’t stop baby, almost there!” She moaned, lightly tugging your hair as her grip locked.

You used your free hand to reach up and tweak her nipple, the added sensation delicious enough to finally give her the release you both were so desperate for. You gently licked her clit, helping her ride the wave until she relaxed, her cries of ecstasy turning to pants of relief. You removed your fingers, sucking them clean before pressing your tongue flat against her entrance to lap up the rest of her arousal.

“You are incredible.” Her words took a moment to register but the moment they did you could feel your heart swell, she was the incredible one. She made you feel more comfortable than anyone else in your life ever had, and you were so grateful for her.

“I love you.” You climbed up to lay beside her, pulling her in for a kiss. She returned the favor, her arms wrapping around your waist.

“I love you too sweet girl.”

You laid your head on her chest, her fingers toying with your hair until you drifted off to sleep.

——

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my taglist :) I’ll be doing separate tag lists for specific characters as well so let me know if you’d like to be on my general or a specific one.

[soo0hee]

Overload

Pairing — Xu Minghao x Reader

Summary — An outing with your coworkers quickly left you spiraling and all you want is to be home...

Genre — fluff, established relationship, idol!au

Warnings — anxiety, sensory overload, alcohol mentioned

Word Count — 1.3k

Rating — pg-13

A/n — The setting is quite literally what i went through yesterday so this is me just working through my weekend... pls bare with me :((

Disclaimer: this fic is written and copyrighted by ©soo0hee on tumblr. do not rewrite or repost on any other plattforms without my permission.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED!

Going out with your coworkers was something you regularly did. You were a good team, not everyone had the fortune of being able to say that.

You also liked going out with them, however often times, you found yourself overwhelmed by everything around you. It was when suddenly your social switch flipped and everything became to much for you.

The music was suddenly to loud, the crowd of strangers kept getting bigger and the pushing was constantly making you lose your balance. At one point your knees even buckled and you had to hold onto your drunk coworker who kept yelling a jumbled mess of the lyrics to a song you could recognize over her shrill voice that made your ears ring.

You winced involuntarily as another stranger pressed you against the bar as he tried to make his way through the crowd. Flinching slightly you tried to keep the tears threatening to spill over at bay, not wanting to cry in the middle of a bar or in front of your coworkers.

Swallowing harshly, you blindly reached for the stool where you knew your jacket would be and quickly tried passing one of your coworkers who looked as you with a questioning head tilt.

“I’ll be out for a minute!” you yelled over the loud music only to receive a nod in return.

Rushing out and running into more people then you would have liked in the process, until you reached the door.

Cold air engulfed you, chills running down your spine and a few deep breaths later you could feel your racing heart already calming down a bit. The alcohol running through your blood made your mind a bit fuzzy and your skin that was until a few seconds ago tingling uncomfortably now sporting goosebumps because of the cold.

You felt already way calmer then just before, sitting down on a bench just a few meters away to collect yourself.

You didn’t want to go back inside, even if you had fun earlier that night but now, you just wanted to go home.

You wanted to get rid of the make un your face, the glitter in your hair and the sweat clinging to your hairline only to fall into the arms of your boyfriend and not move a muscle for the rest of the night.

It was barely even 10:30 pm but your team had been parting since shortly after 7 pm and you were tired! You huffed quietly, not knowing if you wanted to hear the complaints of your coworkers about leaving already when 2 of them suddenly sat down beside you.

“Are you okay?” Carrie asked, slightly slurring out the words while Yurin giggled and clung to her shoulder.

Giving her a short nod and a, in your opinion, forced smile that you hoped she believed in her drunk state. Seeing her like that you suddenly felt significantly more sober then before.

“Yes, I just needed a minute. You two can go back in I’ll be fine here.” You nodded, hoping that you didn’t need to explain to them what was going through your head. That might be a dick move but what could you say, explaining what you felt was exactly your forte.

“You sure? We can stay with you for a while until you want to come back inside…”

You shook your head, telling them that it was okay and that you would text in the group chat if something were the matter.

They were unsure if they should follow your request, it was night after all but then they went back when they were convinced that you were fine out here alone.

Relieved to be alone again you checked your phone.

10:42 pm

You could just leave and text the chat that you were going home, but then you would probably have to answer a few questions on Monday.

I might be coming home soon – send 10:43 pm

Typing bubble appeared and vanished again.

Something wrong Băo Bèi? – received 10:43 pm

Want me to pick you up? – received 10:44 pm

No no, it’s fine you should be resting! I just- don’t know – send 10:46 pm

Typing…

I’ll wait for you – received 10:47 pm

It was simple, but butterflies still erupted in your stomach.

Yes, you wanted to go home. Now!

A text to the group chat and you were on the way.

Thankfully the bus station wasn’t far and so you sat in the bus towards Minghaos apartment barely 10 minutes later and 15 more and you punched in the code to open the door.

The Tv was running quietly in the bedroom and the soft glow of Haos bed side lamp through the gap was a sure sign that he was already in bed.

On soft soles you went directly into the bathroom where your pyjama was still hanging over the side of the tub from this morning.

You took a fast shower, tub now sparkly and you clean you finished of your skin routine before getting dressed. The clothes you were wearing before, carelessly thrown to the floor, waiting to be thrown into the laundry the next day.

“Hey…” was what you were softly greeted with by your boyfriend who had his glasses perched on his nose and a book in his hands. He looked unbelievably soft swallowed by the fluffy comforter in pillow and quickly you crawled in on the other side.

He put the book aside and took his glasses of so he could comfortably wrap his arms around your tired form.

“hi.” You murmured back, face hidden in his chest.

You felt his hand running down your spine soothingly, causing you to melt against him.

“Tired?” he hummed.

You nodded.

“Did something happen Băo Bèi?”

You looked up, eyes meeting his loving ones and you enjoyed the press of his plump lips against your forehead.

“Nothing bad, at some point I just felt like I needed to get out of there. It just-“

“Got to much?”

“Mhmm, there were so many people who kept pushing to get past us, the music wasn’t my taste after a while and if I ever have to hear my coworker sing again I will throw something! Seriously, my ears are still ringing!”

Minghao snorted at the last part.

He knew how you sometimes couldn’t handle your emotions well, always there by yours side when you had a hard time understanding them so this wasn’t the first time this happened. For you, in those moments, you felt like you had to escape the situation, your skin crawling as touch got to much, the noises surrounding you getting to much and every social interaction became a burden suddenly.

He was actually quite proud that in those moments you like to search for an escape in his arms.

To know that you considered him the place for your ship to seek safety from the storm in, that filled him with immense pride. You could have gone to your own place after all.

“Aigoo my Băo Bèi, sounds like you had an overload… how are you feeling now?”

“Better now that I’m here.” You smiled as you blinked at him sleepily.

Hao’s ears turned red and you giggled at the sight.

“You’re still blushing at this? After all this time?” You teased with a kiss to his now healed collarbone before nuzzling back into it. He shivered at the touch.

“You little-“ his finger poked your side in good fun and you squealed in surprise.

Yes, this felt right again.

[obsessedwhyyes]

An Empirical Study

Part 2 of The Scientific Method Series (though readable as a standalone). Part 1, A Sound Hypothesis, can be found here!

Summary: As your first night together with Astarion draws near, your mind, ever the analyst, goes into overdrive. Thankfully, Astarion has a cure for those racing thoughts - a sensory experiment, one that will release your inhibitions and help you to embrace the unknown. In doing so, you discover that some mysteries are best experienced, rather than solved.

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7132 Pairing: Astarion x Fem!Reader Content: Act 1, smut with plot, inexperienced nerd reader, losing virginity, sensory play, tantric massage (sort of), fingering, Astarion guides you during sex. Warning: Very mild reference to Astarion's past trauma, though this Tav doesn't pass her insight checks.

Gif by silverformymonsters on Tumblr!

A/N: This fic was inspired by the idea that mindfulness is the best cure for a busy mind. No one says mindfulness can't be sexy, right? Actual smut appears halfway through.

Travelling lush verdant landscapes on your search for the Druid, Halsin, your eyes are drawn to Astarion at each opportunity, your mind wandering to thoughts of your night prior. You had bared yourself to him, and him to you in an evening of bliss and exploration which you, even in all your overthinking, had not anticipated. Yet, it was nothing compared to what was to come tonight - at least, according to him.

Stolen glances, lingering touches on the small of your back, a brush of his hand against yours - all promises of what is to come, whispered between almost-lovers.

And so you find yourself sneaking glances at his lips, which spilled forth such delicious sounds for you at your touch; at his silver hair which you envision your hands running through in a moment of passion; at his eyes, which gazed into yours with the intensity of a winter storm as his pleasure spilled from him.

Gods, is it distracting.

You're meant to be leading this merry band of tadpolled companions you have founded, not indulging these dirty little fantasies of yours. You need to keep your wits about you. Lives depend on it. 

He, meanwhile, is the picture of easy grace and sardonic smiles, sauntering ahead of you with all the casual arrogance of a man who knows how good he looks from behind.

Every so often, he pauses to check his nails or adjust his perfectly coiffed hair, as if the finer details of his appearance are the most pressing concern in this current life-or-death situation.

And then there's that smirk. That knowing, mischievous quirk of his lips whenever he catches you staring. It's a look that says, “I know what you're thinking, darling. And you have to work for it.”

You're torn between wanting to wipe that damn smug expression off his face and wanting to… well, the evermore debauched side of your mind helpfully supplies several colourful suggestions, none of which are appropriate for your current company or circumstances.

So when you find yourself tripping over a fallen beam and nearly falling face-first into a pile of mouldy straw as your companions attempt to loot the blighted village you’ve stumbled into, you decide, for your sake and the sake of your increasingly concerned friends, to seek a moment of reprieve.

“You all go on ahead,” you shout to them. “I'll catch up.”

When they nod their understanding and continue on, you're relieved to have a moment to yourself. A moment to rein your wandering thoughts back under control and return to the wizard you were - one with a mind of sound, scientific thought and resolve, not of such lewd desires. For now, at least.

It seems only a taste of the once unknown was enough to drive you to madness.

But that isn’t all that plagues you.

As you stand alone in the dilapidated building you’ve resigned yourself to in your moment of madness, your mind wanders to the night ahead. Excitement bubbles in your chest, but it’s tempered by a gnawing anxiety that threatens to overwhelm you. You’ve faced down monsters, handled the horror of a mindflayer parasite lurking in your brain with a surprising grace. And yet, the prospect of fully giving yourself to Astarion shakes you in a way that you have never experienced.

It’s a natural biological response, you tell yourself. The release of hormones in response to a new, potentially stressful situation.

But there is a sense of finality to the coming night that intimidates you - a threshold that once crossed, cannot be uncrossed.

You pace the worn floorboards, your footsteps echoing in the empty room. Your mind, ever the analyst, begins to dissect your fears with scientific precision. Perhaps it’s not the physical act itself that fears you, but what it represents: a change. For so long, you’ve defined yourself by your rationality - your dedication to your craft - even if it meant keeping intimacy at arm’s length. But Astarion - he's awakened something within you. Something primal, something that can't be contained by logic or reason.

Astarion is a master in getting your heart racing - a dangerous cocktail of excitement, fear, and desire that leaves you breathless, in more ways than one as of late. He’s like the night itself - dark, mysterious, full of hidden dangers and untold pleasures. And just like the night, he calls to you, urging you to explore, to experience, to lose yourself in the shadows. It’s intoxicating.

There’s a part of you that fears this - that desire to cling to what is familiar. Yet you also yearn for the connection, the raw intimacy, the chance to experience life with your whole being, not just your mind.

And really, what does it matter if you lean into this yearning? You could all be dead tomorrow, or worse, transformed into mind flayers. If you're going to die or become a monster, at least you could do so knowing what it feels like to–

No, no. Stop that.

You groan and run a hand through your hair. All this anticipation is maddening.

Your eyes scan the room - what was once a bedroom - for a distraction, and locate a suitably perfect one placed conveniently on a bedside table: a small coffer, liable to be filled with the valuables of its owner, now long dead to the goblins which had infested this area before you and your companions had cleaned it up.

You sit down on the edge of the bed, the old, torn frame creaking as you lower yourself. The coffer is ornate, its lock intricate - complex enough to keep out the finest of goblin thieves, seemingly. Probably not enough to keep out particularly dextrous vampires though, your traitorous mind supplies.

Nevertheless, it will make a suitable distraction. You can figure out an old lock without Astarion’s expertise. You’re a wizard for gods’ sake.

You pull spare lockpicking tools from your pack, tongue poking out slightly in concentration as you set to work, trying to remember the vague instructions you’d once overheard in a tavern. Hells, what was it again? “Insert and wiggle?” Or “poke and hope?” Undeterred, you begin your fumbling.

… And the pick slips as you attempt to insert it into the lock, jabbing under your fingernail.

You yelp, nearly dropping the entire set, swearing profanities under your breath.

“Now this is just pitiful.”

“Shit!” You shout, the coffer clattering to the floor as you scramble to get up to address the velvety voice that manifests behind you.

You look up to see Astarion gazing down at you, eyebrow raised, amused at your lack of grace. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, the picture of casual elegance.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he coos.

“No, I just…” You fight to catch your breath. “It looked valuable. I couldn't just leave it here without taking a peek.”

“All by yourself? I do hope you were planning to share,” he teases in mock pouting.

“As if you wouldn't keep it all to yourself.”

He brings a hand to his heart, with all the theatrics of a wandering bard recounting his most exaggerated conquests after too many tankards of ale.

“How you wound me! I think you'll find I'm very generous.” He looks you up and down as you reclaim your fallen items and your space on the bed to resume your attempts at this gods-damned impossible lock. Astarion, however, seems to have other ideas.

He saunters into the room, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey.

“You know,” he continues, a smirk on his lips, “if you need me to teach you, you only have to say so. If I recall, you're an exceptionally fast learner…”

He leans over you, lips hovering closely to your ear. You pulse quickens, but you don't look him in the eye.

“... Darling.”

Nope. Still not looking him in the eye.

“I’m perfectly capable of picking a lock, Astarion.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt. But perhaps you’d like a lesson from the master of larceny himself? I promise to be a thorough teacher. All you have to do,” he teases, “is say please.”

Bastard.

“And I suppose you’re offering this lesson out of the kindness of your heart?”

Astarion’s laugh is rich and warm, and your heart flutters for just a moment. “Let’s just say I enjoy watching you learn.”

The double entendre isn’t lost on you. Heat pools in your belly as you recall his “lessons” from the night prior.

“Fine,” you sigh in mock exasperation, turning to look directly into his ruby eyes. If it’s a cat-and-mouse game he wants, a cat-and-mouse game he shall have. “Please,” you purr in your best attempt to embody the sultriness that Astarion so easily exudes, holding his gaze with eyes hooded. You can only hope you don’t look and sound as silly as you feel.

You get more than you bargained for.

“Oh, my.” He positions himself behind you on the bed, pressing his chest against your back, his legs either side of you. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Your breath hitches. Your pulse quickens, pounding so loudly that you have no doubt he can hear it. But worst of all, the proximity, his breath on your neck, and the feeling of his hard body against yours ignite that familiar ache in your core. 

So much for a distraction.

He tuts. “Ah, I see the problem.” His voice is low, lips now hovering beside your ear. “The pick you’re using - it’s not quite up to the task.”

You frown, examining the delicate tool. “What do you mean? It seems fine to me.”

“Oh no, my dear. Size matters when it comes to these things. It’s simply not big enough for a lock like this. Luckily for you, I have a pick that is very large.”

You bite back a laugh and decide to play along. “Is that so? And how exactly do you manage to fit such a large pick in these small locks?”

He chuckles, the sound low and rich in your ear. “It’s all about technique, darling. With the right approach, you’d be amazed at what can fit where.”

You half expect to find yourself suddenly transported into the pages of one of those tawdry “romance” novels hidden in the darkest corners of Candlekeep’s library.

“I see,” you reply. “And I suppose you’ve had plenty of practice…”

Gods, you can’t quite believe you’re indulging this.

“... inserting your pick into various locks over the years?” You continue, heat flushing your cheeks at your own brazenness.

“Oh, indeed,” he replies. “I’ve encountered all sorts of locks in my time. Each one unique, requiring a… personal touch to open properly.”

“And have you ever met a lock you couldn’t pick?”

Astarion’s voice is downright wicked. “Not yet, darling. Though I must say, I’m quite looking forward to trying my luck with yours.”

There’s that ache of excitement again, pooling at your core at the implications which race through your mind. The air hangs heavy between you, charged with promise and anticipation. “Well then, master lockpick, perhaps you’d better show me how it’s done.”

“With pleasure,” Astarion coos, reaching behind him to retrieve an, indeed, much larger lockpick from his pack, alongside an additional curved tool: a tension wrench - how very advanced. He hands them to you, keeping a hold of your hands as you hold onto the implements.

“First,” he murmurs, his cool, long fingers guiding you to bring the tension wrench to the lock, “we need to slide this into the keyway, here. Apply constant, gentle pressure. Too much, and you’ll bind the pins. Too little, and they won’t set.”

Next, he raises your other hand, holding the pick. “Now for the delicate part,” he purrs. “We’ll use this to probe deeply, searching for those sensitive spots that, when touched just right, will yield to you.”

You swallow hard, but persevere.

As you work, you feel the subtle vibrations of pins through the pick; the minute clicks as they each settle into place. Astarion’s hands never leave yours, his touch both instructive and maddeningly distracting.

“Feel that resistance?” he asks as you encounter a stubborn pin. “Sometimes, darling, you have to apply a little more pressure.” He emphasises the word by pressing his body closer to yours, and you have to bite your lip to keep from making a sound. “Maintain tension while you lift the pin with the pick.”

“That’s it,” he encourages as you successfully work your way through the lock, guided by his expert hands. “I knew those clever fingers of yours were good for more than just spellcasting.”

“And just what other uses did you have in mind for my fingers?”

His chuckle is low and rich. “My dear, I have so many ideas, we might need another night to explore them all.”

The promise in his words sends a thrill through you, equal parts excitement and trepidation. 

“Almost there,” he murmurs, voice husky with concentration - or perhaps something else entirely. “Just a little more pressure…”

With a satisfying click, the lock finally gives way. You let out a triumphant laugh, turning to face Astarion with a grin.

“Well done,” he says, with something resembling pride flickering across his features for a moment. Or hunger. It’s hard to tell sometimes.

As the excitement of your victory over that bastard lock fades, you become acutely aware of Astarion’s proximity. You realise with a start just how close you are. His face is mere inches from yours, eyes boring into you with an intensity that steals your breath. The cool solidity of his chest against your back, his breath ghosting over your neck - it’s intoxicating and terrifying all at once. The reality of what is to come tonight crashes over you like a wave, bringing forth those familiar pangs of anxiety deep within your chest.

“Astarion,” you begin, turning your face away from him. “About tonight…”

“Not having second thoughts, are we?” He says as he shifts to sit alongside you. You find yourself equal parts relieved and disappointed at the loss of him pressed so firmly against you.

“No,” you say quickly, then pause. “I want to. It’s just… I don’t know. I’m just–”

“Nervous? Darling, I assure you, I won’t bite.” He pauses, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Unless you ask nicely, of course.”

Your face flushes at his brazen comment.

“Besides, after your… performance last night, I thought we were well past this bashfulness. You don’t need more ‘experimentation,’ surely?”

“That was different,” you mutter, avoiding his gaze.

“Oh?” Astarion leans in. You feel his breath on your skin, cool and gentle. “Do tell. What makes tonight so special that it has our dear leader in such a state?”

You take a breath, deciding to be honest. “It just feels like… once we do this, there’s no going back. I’ll be… I don't know. Different.”

It’s a foolish notion by all logic, but one that gnaws at your mind nonetheless. You feel almost ludicrous as you voice your feelings aloud. It’s difficult, this “being honest with yourself” business.

Astarion’s eyebrow arches, a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Ever the overthinker.” He pauses, seemingly considering his words. “Darling, you’ll still be you. Just… more experienced. And significantly more satisfied, I might add.”

You roll your eyes. “You know what I mean, Astarion.”

His expression shifts to something altogether softer. "I do. But tell me, darling - didn't you feel it last night? That thrill of breaking free from your own chains? The prim scholar I met would have baulked at such unseemly behaviour. And yet, there you were, eager and willing. Why cling to those old restraints when you could shed them entirely? There's so much more to experience, so many delicious freedoms to taste."

You blink. Loathe as you are to admit, he’s right about one thing: abandoning your own self-imposed constraints last night was… liberating.

“You know, you can be surprisingly insightful at times.”

He feigns offence, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Surprisingly? My dear, I’ve had centuries to perfect the art of observation. How do you think I’ve survived this long? It’s a crucial skill for any vampire. Or any lover.”

You laugh, and some of the tension eases from your shoulders at his usual bantering. “And there’s the Astarion I know.”

“Would you prefer I return to being mysterious and dangerous? That can certainly be arranged.”

“No,” you say softly, meeting his gaze. “I think I prefer you as you are.”

Shit, you think. Did I really just say that?

He makes an odd expression. That same indecipherable expression from the night prior, flickering across his features, barely visible, impossible for you to categorise. Is it disappointment? Annoyance? A deeper emotion that you cannot name? Gods, you wish you could see into that mind of his.

Well… you could, but that would be impolite.

But before either of you can speak again, a voice cuts through the air.

“Oi! Are you two coming back or do we need to leave you to the goblins?”

It’s Shadowheart, her tone impatient and slightly suspicious.

Astarion's usual smirk slides back into place, the elusive expression gone as quickly as it appeared. "Well, we'd better not keep them waiting. Wouldn't want them to start any unsavoury rumours, would we?"

As you gather your things, your mind whirls with thoughts of what almost was and what's still to come. Astarion brushes past you as he heads for the door, his hand ghosting over the small of your back.

"Until tonight, darling," he murmurs, just for you to hear.

-

The day crawls by with agonising slowness, each moment stretching like treacle in the sun; thoughts of the unknown looming over you like a curse - albeit one that promises especially satisfying outcomes.

When evening approached and you and your companions returned to the sanctuary of your camp, Astarion had caught you alone, his voice low and rich with promise.

“Meet me tonight,” he murmured. “When the others are asleep. In the clearing we found yesterday. Follow the path, and head east at the fork. I'll be waiting,” he finished with a smile - that same teasing, rakish smile which lingers in your fantasies at night.

Now, as you make your way through the darkening woods, your heart pounds a staccato rhythm against your ribs.

What if I do something embarrassing? What if I accidentally cast Fire Bolt in a moment of madness?

You snort at your own ridiculous thoughts. You can almost hear Astarion's voice in your head, calling you out for being the terrible overthinker that you are.

As you approach the clearing, you take a deep breath, trying to centre yourself. You're a bundle of contradictions - nervous yet eager, apprehensive yet excited. Your mind might be a chaotic whirl of thoughts and doubts, but your body moves forward with purpose, drawn to Astarion like a moth to flame.

Well, you think wryly, at least if I embarrass myself horribly, I can always hope for a sudden mindflayer attack to put me out of my misery.

With that comforting thought, you step into the moonlit clearing, your eyes searching for Astarion's familiar silhouette.

And then you see him.

Astarion emerges from behind a tree, shirtless, moonlight casting shadows that accentuate the lean contours of his form.

"There you are," he purrs, his voice low and rich. "I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I laid eyes on you. Waiting... to have you."

You can't help but chuckle, a mixture of nervousness and amusement. "Since the moment you laid eyes on me? You mean when you held a knife to my throat?"

"Gods, you just can't let me woo you, can you?” he teases. He steps closer to you, his presence electric.

Your eyes trace the elegant lines of his face, the sharp angle of his jaw, the mesmerising depth of his ruby eyes. He is beautiful in the way that wild things are beautiful - captivating and perilous in equal measure.

“You don’t need to ‘woo’ me, Astarion. I’m already here.”

His smile widens. "Indeed you are. But where's the fun in rushing? I intend to savour every moment of this."

As he approaches, he snakes a hand around your waist, lingering at the small of your back, before pulling you flush against him. Before you have a chance to acknowledge his brazen actions, his lips meet yours and his kiss is as hungry as you remember; as intoxicating as you’d dreamed. His tongue plays with yours, cool and skilled, a stark contrast to the warmth blooming in your core. For but a moment, you find your body taking the lead once more - your fingers glide up the bare skin of his chest, up his jaw, finally tangling themselves in the silken strands of his hair.

As your arms wrap themselves behind his neck, you suddenly feel your feet lift the ground. Your stomach drops, a fleeting sensation of weightlessness before Astarion secures you in his arms, twirling to press you against the tree he emerged from. The rough bark presses into your back, only accentuating the feeling of his hard, smooth body as it envelops your own.

But then the rush of sensation begins to ebb. In its wake, your mind reasserts itself, a tidal surge of thoughts and fears flooding back in. The bark digging into your back, once a thrilling counterpoint to Astarion's touch, now feels uncomfortably real. The weight of the moment settles on you, heavy and undeniable.

This is happening. This is real.

Your body, so responsive moments ago, now feels stiff and awkward. Your hands suddenly feel clumsy and unsure. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between you, hyper-conscious of each touch.

Astarion, ever perceptive, seems to sense the change. His movements slow, and he pulls back slightly, ruby eyes searching your face. A furrow appears between his brows, concern replacing the hunger that had darkened his gaze.

"You've gone rigid as a statue, darling.”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat. How can you explain this? The desire that still smoulders beneath the surface, at war with the fear that threatens to extinguish it?

Astarion's head tilts, a predator scenting uncertainty. But when he speaks, his voice is uncharacteristically gentle. "You're overthinking this again, aren't you? I can practically hear the gears grinding."

He doesn't wait for your response, instead lowering you gently to the ground into the grass below and settling on his knees alongside you.

"Perhaps," he says, a thoughtful look replacing his usual smirk, "we need a different approach. One that will keep that brilliant mind of yours occupied.

“I want you to close your eyes,” Astarion instructs, his voice soft but commanding. “And then I want you to focus entirely on sensation. No thinking, no more analysing. Just feeling. Can you do that for me?”

You nod, both nervous and intrigued, as your eyes flutter closed.

“Excellent,” he purrs. “Now, I’m going to touch you, and I want you to tell me everything you feel. Everything. Alright?”

“I think so.”

With your eyes shut, every other sense seems to heighten as anticipation washes over you. Moments pass like centuries, almost agonisingly so.

As if to break the spell, you feel him trace a line, gentle and deliberate, along your jawline, all the way to your neck, resting his fingers above your pulse.

“What do you feel?”

“I… I feel your fingers,” you venture. You can't hide the uncertainty in your voice.

“What about them?”

“They're… cool? But not cold. Your fingertips are slightly rough; they have a texture to them.”

“Excellent,” he encourages. “What else?”

You pause as you feel him shift above you, straddling you at your hips, and he brings his head down to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. You shiver slightly as you feel the coolness of his breath, and his lips, which graze your skin, leaving a trail of kisses in their wake.

“I feel your lips. They're soft. I can smell your cologne… It's fresh, herby almost. And something else… something earthy. Something ‘you.’”

“You're more observant than I gave you credit for,” he teases, though his praise causes your heart to swell for a moment.

His touch becomes bolder, a hand trailing down from your neck to reach the swell of your breast, massaging it gently. You inhale sharply, the sensation both thrilling and unexpected as he brushes a thumb across your nipple over the barrier of your clothes.

“And now?” he asks into the crook of your neck, punctuated by slow, delicate kisses, planted along the line where he would sink his fangs.

“It's… intense,” you manage. It's as if your skin has become hypersensitive, every nerve ending alive and receptive to his touch. “I can feel everything so clearly, even through my clothes. It's almost overwhelming, but in a good way.”

You hear a low chuckle from Astarion. “Good,” he murmurs. “That's exactly what I want you to feel.”

As he sits up, his fingers travel to the hem of your shirt, a whisper of a touch that sends shivers across your skin. He pulls at the fabric with deliberate slowness, exposing your midriff inch by inch. His fingers occasionally brush against your skin, leaving the most wonderful tingles in their wake. When he reaches your chest, he pauses, hands hovering just below your breasts.

“May I?”

You nod, unable to find your voice. With a gentleness that surprises you, he slides your shirt, bra along with it, up and over your head as you raise yourself momentarily to help him. The cool night air hits your exposed skin and you shiver, though not entirely from the cold.

“Beautiful,” Astarion breathes.

His fingertips trace patterns on your skin, starting from your collarbone and working their way down. Each touch feels electric, sending little sparks of sensation through your body. He traces the curve of your breast, the dip of your waist, the plane of your stomach, as if memorising the feel of your skin beneath his hands.

When he reaches the waistband of your skirt, you feel his knuckles brushing against your hip bones as he works at the fastenings, and the muscles in your abdomen tighten of their own accord. You hear every sound, every breath he makes, every rustle of fabric.

As your skirt falls away, pulled with deliberate slowness, you become aware of new sensations. The blades of grass tickle your legs. The night air caresses your skin. 

You feel exposed, vulnerable. But… safe.

For a moment, neither of you speaks. The night seems to hold its breath, the world narrowing down to just the two of you in this moonlit clearing. You're acutely aware of your nakedness, and you need not see it to feel Astarion's eyes roaming over you.

“You're exquisite,” he says, and for once, there's no trace of his usual sarcasm or teasing.

Astarion’s hands and fingers continue their exploration of your body, alternating between feather-light touches and firmer caresses. He seems to delight in discovering places that make you gasp or shiver - the shell of your ear, the dip of your waist, the inside of your wrist.

The sensation is incredible - like tingles radiating out from his touch, spreading across your skin in waves. It reminds you of the pleasant shivers you feel when someone whispers close to your ear. But gods, this is so much more intense; more all-encompassing.

“It… it feels like…” You try to describe the feeling aloud, but words catch in your throat, coming out as a soft moan instead, causing you to clasp your hands to your mouth to stifle yourself.

“Don't hold back, love,” he encourages. “Let me hear you.”

As his fingers trail along your inner thigh, a soft gasp escapes your lips.

Astarion’s touch is feather-light, teasing, as he moves higher. When his fingers brush against your entrance, arousal and anticipation leaving you more sensitive than you have ever known, a low moan rises unbidden from your throat.

And then his fingers enter you. One finger, then two. He moves slowly, almost agonisingly so, in and out and in and out of you, curling his fingers ever so slightly upwards. Little whimpers and sighs escape you, a wanton symphony of pleasure that you never knew you were capable of. Each sound seems to spur him on, his touches becoming faster, more purposeful, more focused.

You find yourself arching into his touch, your body seeking more of the exquisite sensation he's drawing from you, only for him to bring a thumb to your clit, playing you with virtuoso expertise in rhythm with his fingers. You cry out and, for a moment, you're embarrassed by the volume, but Astarion's hum of approval vanishes any self-consciousness.

“That's it, darling,” he whispers, his voice dark, husky. “Let go. Let me hear how good you feel.”

His words push you closer to the edge. Your sounds become more frequent, more urgent. You're dimly aware that you're babbling, a stream of “please” and “Astarion” and “oh gods” spilling forth from your lips. 

As the pleasure builds to a crescendo, you feel the last of your inhibitions slipping away. It's as if the invisible chains which have bound you for so long are finally breaking, link by link. Each wave of pleasure weakens their hold, and Astarion’s touch is the key that unlocks every shackle.

When you finally reach your peak, it's like a dam bursting within you, sending all the pent-up fears and self-imposed constraints out along with it. Astarion’s name leaves your lips in a cry that's part plea, part praise, as you soar on wings of newfound freedom.

“Open your eyes, darling,” Astarion says softly, a grounding force in the wake of your climax.

You do, blinking in the moonlight. It takes a moment for your vision to adjust, but the world comes into focus slowly, like awakening from a dream.

Astarion’s face is the first thing you see, illuminated by the soft moonlight filtering through the trees as he sits up on his knees alongside you. And as your gaze travels down…

… He's also naked.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you take in the sight of him - all of him - all lean muscle and pale skin. You don't think you'll ever get used to the sight of his cock. Somehow, in this light, it's even more perfect than you remember: glistening, with a slight upward curve, and a girth that makes you ache in anticipation.

Astarion's smile widens, a hint of his usual mischief returning to his eyes. “See something you like, darling?”

You laugh, your voice raw. “You know I do,” you admit, surprising yourself with your own boldness.

“Hmm, yes,” he purrs. “But I do so enjoy hearing you say it.”

He shifts, positioning himself above you, aligning between your thighs.

For the first time, even at the final threshold, your mind is… quiet. You find yourself relaxed, languid. You feel that pang of nervousness, yes. But you don't find yourself restrained by it.

You want to revel in this feeling. In him. In the sensations he brings you. In this freedom he has granted you; this freedom that you have never before granted yourself.

A moment passes, and tension crackles in the air between you.

“Ready, love?” He asks, breaking the silence.

You nod. You are certain.

He positions himself, his hand guiding his cock, ready to bring it to your entrance.

“Breathe in for me, darling.”

You do as he says, drawing in a deep breath. And as you do…

His cock enters you.

You squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation. There's a moment of discomfort, your body stretching more to accommodate him as he slowly inserts inch after inch, giving you time to adjust. You have never felt so full before. You have never felt anything quite like this before.

“How does it feel?” He asks, his voice strained with the effort of holding still.

“It's a little sore,” you exhale, and your voice slightly shaky at the rush of sensation.

“Then let's start slowly, shall we?”

When he leans down to kiss you, you become aware of every point of contact; the coolness of his bare skin pressed so closely against the warmth of yours, yet it never quite feels close enough. You wrap your arms behind his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss between you and, in turn, he wraps an arm under the small of your neck, lifting you to him. His weight on you is grounding as you adjust to the foreign sensations.

That is until, oh so slowly, he moves inside you.

His movements are controlled, restrained, yet you can feel the barely leashed power in his lithe form, in the ripple of his muscles. He's a predator, dangerous and deadly, yet in this moment, he handles you with a gentleness that gives you goosebumps.

Pain meets pleasure with each deliberate motion, merging into one muddle of intense sensation. But then the discomfort begins to fade, replaced by a building warmth that spreads throughout your body. Each slow thrust of his hips brings a new wave of feeling overwhelming yet exquisite.

Astarion brings a hand to your leg, coaxing you to lift it. You understand the message, wrapping your legs around his waist as he thrusts into you and gods. He's even deeper within you, the sounds wet and lewd with each undulation of his hips. You gasp loudly at the sensation, breaking free momentarily of his kiss.

You suddenly find yourself in need of more. More closeness, more contact, more of him.

Your legs, encircling his waist, involuntarily pull his hips into you, urging him on, faster and deeper into you. You hadn't meant to be so bold. But this feeling of fullness, of connection, is overwhelming, igniting every primitive urge within your body, now unconstrained by the shackles of your mind. He responds in kind, thrusting in time with each pull of your legs. Your voice is not your own, the most wanton of cries spilling forth from your lips, high pitched and needy. Your eyes search for his, eager to see them hungry, dark, brimming with pleasure just as you remember from the night prior.

But something’s different.

His eyes are glazed, ever so slightly, looking more through you than at you. It's as though he's focusing intently on something you can't see.

Concentrating, perhaps? Trying to maintain control? Gods, it's hard to think straight when each thrust hits deep inside you so deliciously. Each movement is methodical, perfect - skill clearly derived from centuries of experience.

But amidst the haze, you reach up and gently brush your fingers along his jawline. “Astarion?” you breathe, soft and inquisitive between each gasp of pleasure.

He blinks rapidly, his rhythm faltering. He pauses, still inside you. For a split second, what looks to be confusion flickers across his features, before his usual charming smirk, practised and perfect, returns.

“Ah, darling,” he starts, his voice hoarse. “Just got a little… lost in the moment.”

Before you can respond, Astarion suddenly shifts, changing your positions with a grace that takes your breath away. In one fluid motion, he scoops you into his arms and sits up, bringing you with him so that you're straddling his lap.

“Now then,” he says, “where were we?”

His renewed enthusiasm is almost overwhelming. His touch is more purposeful, his movements more intense as tangles a hand in the strands of your hair, pulling you in to kiss him. You find yourself swept up in his redoubled efforts.

Astarion’s spare hand settles firmly on your hip, pulling you to him, coaxing you to rock back and forth on his cock and–

Stars burst behind your eyes. A new, intense pleasure, richer than the last as the head of his cock brushes the uppermost wall of you.

He guides your movements, bringing you to a rhythm that has you gasping. You chase that elusive feeling eagerly. When you falter, uncertain and unbalanced from inexperience, he whispers his encouragement.

“That's it,” he murmurs as you find your stride. “Keep going.”

He rocks his hips to meet your own, and gods, there's that beautiful voice of his, punctuated by the rhythmic slaps of skin against slickened skin. His low groans reverberate through your body, mingling with your own breathless gasps and whimpers.

Finally, seemingly sensing your fast approaching limit, he brings a hand between your bodies, and you feel the familiar sensation of his thumb rubbing delicate circles on your clit.

The added stimulation is too much to bear. You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations coursing through your body as you close your eyes, giving yourself over to the feeling. Your breath quickens, your pulse a drumbeat in your ears, and you feel yourself shuddering, spiralling. You’re falling, flying, lost in sensation, and Astarion is both the cause of your descent and your only lifeline. He holds you steady, an anchor, as your senses return to you.

But this steadiness does not remain for long.

With a start, you find yourself lowered to the ground, Astarion holding you firmly by the hips, burying himself in you once more, his purposeful rhythm replaced with an erratic, senseless pounding in the final throes of his pleasure.

You feel the tension in him before it fully takes hold, a low steady hum beneath his skin. His breath grows shallow, his muscles tightening as if holding back a flood. You watch it build, each buck of his hips pulling him closer, like a thread winding tighter and tighter. His body starts to tremble and then, suddenly, it breaks - his breath catches, his body jerks, and you feel him give in, a surge of release that ripples through him like a passing storm. You find yourself moaning in response to the intensity, lost in the tension heavy in the air. Somewhere in the midst of his climax, you realise, he had pulled out of you, as you feel the coolness of his release on your abdomen.

He exhales, spent, the fire that had burned so hot now just a quiet warmth.

In the aftermath, silence falls over the clearing, bar your shared panting. The night air, cool against your heated skin, brings you gently back to reality.

“That… was amazing,” you breathe, still somewhat dazed.

Astarion chuckles, leaning his forehead delicately against yours. “You sound surprised,” he teases.

“Not surprised. I just had no idea I could even feel like that.”

Astarion's lips curl into a smug smile. “You just needed an expert’s touch.”

You laugh, giddy and carefree from the lingering euphoria. “Gods, all this talk of your touch might just make me want to go again.”

“Tempting,” he purrs. “But even I need a moment to recover, love.”

With that, he rolls off of you, settling beside you on the grass. You turn to look at him, taking in the sight of his profile in the moonlight, smiling as you notice the charmingly dishevelled state of his hair, a few errant strands falling across his forehead.

He seemingly feels your gaze, turning to meet it. The moonlight catches in his crimson eyes, causing them to glitter with his usual mischief, and something darker, more complex.

You recall his eyes in the throes of passion… a glazing over; a distance that you couldn't quite understand. The look had vanished as quickly as it appeared, just like all the others. The vigour with which he renewed his efforts to pleasure you was almost enough to make you forget the moment.

Almost. 

Alas, you are ever the overthinker.

You find yourself spurred on by thoughts and feelings you don't quite understand. A need to experiment.

Acting on impulse, you shift closer to Astarion. You hesitate for a moment, then slowly, carefully, you rest your head on his chest. You feel him tense for a moment.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice a mixture of confusion and wariness.

“I'm not sure,” you admit. “I just wanted to be close to you. Is that okay?”

There's a long pause. Astarion doesn't push you away, but he doesn't relax either.

“I suppose,” he finally says, his tone carefully neutral. “Though I must say, this is… different.”

You lift your head slightly to look at him. His expression is guarded, as you've come to expect.

“We don't have to if you're uncomfortable,” you offer softly.

Astarion’s laugh is short and sharp. “Uncomfortable? Darling, I've done things that would make a succubus blush. This is hardly–”

He cuts himself off abruptly, seeming to realise he's saying more than he intended. There's a moment of silence, heavy with unspoken words.

Then, slowly, hesitantly, his arm comes around you. It's not quite an embrace - more like he's unsure where to put his arm and this is the most logical place. But it's a start.

You settle back against his chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathes - unnecessary for a vampire; a relic of his past which he retains.

“This isn't… unpleasant,” Astarion finally says.

You smile against his skin.

Astarion truly felt like a puzzle box of a man at times. Certain reactions of his, certain words, dance on the edge of your understanding, always just out of reach. For a person of science, not being able to understand him in moments like this was… infuriating. Exhilarating. A conundrum that both frustrates you and drives your curiosity. Each time you think you've figured him out, he reveals another layer, another facet that sends you back to the drawing board. It's like trying to map the stars only to find they've rearranged themselves overnight. Thrilling, yes, but also unsettling. You're used to being the one with answers, the one who can make sense of the chaos. But with Astarion, you're adrift in uncharted waters, your usual compass rendered useless.

And yet, isn't this what drew you to the arcane in the first place? The allure of the unknown, the thrill of discovery? Astarion is a mystery more complex than any spell you've unravelled, a puzzle more intricate than any magical or alchemical theory you've studied. He challenges you, pushes you beyond the boundaries of your understanding in ways both terrifying and exhilarating.

You find yourself wondering if perhaps this is true alchemy - not the transformation of base metals into gold, but the transmutation of the self through connection with another. Each interaction with Astarion feels like it's changing you, reshaping your perceptions, your desires, your very understanding of the world.

But these are hypotheses to be considered in the daytime. For now, you rest, as a curious yet comfortable silence settles over you in the night air.

Masterlist can be found here.

No Pressure Tags: @silverfangmarks @davenswitcher @roguishcat @sparrowbard @chonkercatto

[amesvertes]

how jake, tonowari, quaritch and tsu'tey would react to you licking/sucking their balls during head

you nasty as hell (me too twin)

JAKE watches you with hooded eyes, taking in your fucked out expression as he guides your head up and down on his cock. he groans at the sight, closing his eyes momentarily and throwing his head back in pure bliss.

spit mixed with pre-cum runs down your chin as a result of his roughness. your sight is blurry with tears and jake almost feels sorry for you. his pretty little mate, choking on his hard cock, but then he reminds himself of how much you love to be a mess for him.

"just like that, babygirl. taking my cock so nicely." he grunts, hips rutting towards you with no mercy.

you look up at him, taking in his beauty before an idea pops into your head.

his eyes shoot open as soon as you remove your mouth from his girth, cocking at eyebrow at you, a warning on the tip of his tongue. that is until he feels your mouth somewhere much lower.

he hisses at the sensitivity, hips bucking as he lets out a lengthy moan. you whimper against his balls when the feeling of his hand tangling into your hair invades your scalp. "does it feel good ma'jake?" you ask innocently, returning your mouth to his balls shortly.

"fuck, feels so good. gonna let me cum in that slutty mouth of yours after, yeah?"

TONOWARI gazes down at you in awe from his sitting position, watching as you untie his loincloth and place love bites onto his toned stomach.

you finally untie the knot, pulling it down almost immediately to see his cock spring out. the olo'eyktan chuckles at your eagerness, running his hands through your loose curls. you stare up at him in awe, left hand toying with your sopping cunt in an attempt to relieve yourself of the overbearing neediness you have for him to be inside you.

"what is it, little one? you want up'pa to fuck you instead?" he mocks, leaning closer to your flustered face. he loves seeing you like this, his mate, the tsahik, all shy when faced with the sight of his cock. you shake your head, "i wanna make you feel good."

he raises an eyebrow at you, "is that so? then why do you hesitate?" he questions. you gnaw at your lip, "i wanna do something new, can i?" you ask, looking up at him with hooded eyes. he smirks, leaning back slowly, "how can i say no to a pretty face like that?"

you return your gaze back to his cock, placing your mouth around his leaking tip and sucking. tonowari lets out a satisfied moan, sighing in pleasure as you start to pump your free hand up and down his thick length.

you release his tip with a pop, moving back a bit and spreading your legs even further to lower yourself to a part of him you have never paid much mind to before. the olo'eyktan stares down at you with interest as you ask him to spread his legs a bit wider.

you exhale a shaky breath before sliding your tongue down to the base of his cock, staring up at his his unsuspecting face as you take one of his thick balls into your mouth.

tonowari lets out a string of curses as you begin to suck on it, switching from one to the other ever so often.

"great mother, that's a good girl." he breathes out and you moan against his sack at his praise. "such dirty things you do for me, hmm? but they always feel so good."

QUARITCH looks down at you with a slightly surprised expression, your request hanging in the air between your bodies.

is this something the na'vi people enjoy? questions swirl in his mind for the few seconds he stares down at your kneeling figure, watching as your tail swishes lazily from one side to the other.

he sighs to himself before nodding, "if you want it so ba- shit!" he hisses as you take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking it eagerly and pumping his cock.

his hand finds it's way to your hair, pulling at it in an attempt to distract himself from the pleasurable sensory overload that invades the soldier's mind.

you swirl your tongue around each of them, licking the base of his cock in between your short breaks. a sense of pride bubbles in your chest at the thought of you, and only you, being able to turn miles into a grunting mess, it also turns you terribly on, making you eager to have him cum so he can just fuck you already.

"fuck, baby, such a whore for wanting to do this, aren't you?" he scoffs in between grunts.

"i'm your whore, ma yawntu." you moan against him. the colonel grunts at the foreign nickname, "and don't you ever forget it."

TSU'TEY moans into the air of the forest, fucking your mouth with animalistic grunts leaving his mouth every so often. your nails dig into his thighs as you simply kneel below him, moaning around his girth and taking as much as you can like the good mate you are.

you can feel him twitching in your mouth, a sign along with the sloppiness of his trusts that he's getting even closer to his orgasm. you try meeting his thrusts eager to get him to cum inside of your mouth, moaning at the feeling of his hands starting to tug your hair back and push your head back onto him with each thrust.

"s-shit, tiyawn." he thrusts one last time before his thick seed spurts into your mouth and down your throat. you pull away from him, panting and struggling to catch your breath as you stare up at your mate, lust written all over your face. but no, you want to please him even further.

"my love, can i try something?" you ask, using one of your hands to pump his cock. tsu'tey hisses, still sensitive from his last orgasm, but he nods, "whatever you want, yawne."

your tail swishes from excitement as you smile up at him, your free hand sliding in between your legs to ease the dull pain of your neglected clit.

you kiss along the bottom of his shaft, stopping briefly at his balls. tsu'tey looks down at you momentarily confusion invading his face, confusion that turns into pleasure as soon as you take one of his balls into your mouth.

he curses, throwing his head back. the sensitivity of his cock mixed with the pleasure o this new found feeling drives him wild, hisses and groans leaving his lips like a sinful song.

"mother of eywa," he groans, "you should try your little tricks on me more often."

© amesvertes 2023

[nu1lst4rs]

doodled human designs for a few neutral aus! (pt.1)

(click for better quality)

can you tell i lost motivation... thank you to chandr for doing the last 3's lineart for me. legit couldn't get freshs colours to fit with the rest. eugh. its the best you're going to get out of us for these guys.

Nightmares gang, star sanses, neu au pt.2, extras

COLOUR, CLASSIC, PAPYRUS, EPIC and ANY REQUESTS will be in the next neu au post 3_^ so please please request me to draw neutral peoples... gonna open general requests in a separate post.

some hcs under the cut!

warning for alot... i mean.. alot of text..

> Ccino (he/they)

indian... ccino... mbghbgb. MAINLY BECAUSE I WAS EATING GULAB JAMUNS AND I WAS LIKE "huh this reminds me of ccino."

trans masc! you should be more surprised if someone wasn't trans at this point

just for individuality, i feel like he'd have cat features. toe beans, tail, but no ears. personal preference.

hopeless romantic. wants to fall in love so bad, like so bad. but doesn't have anyone to fall in love with.

his AU is a neutral where the player killed all bosses. because of this, ink had offered them a pocket AU with just their cafè. ccino still visits their old au from time to time, but otherwise lives in the cafè.

one of the youngest AU's/sanses, only a few hundred years old

> error (he/they/xe)

spanish + colombian

as a divergence from classic, he maintains a similar body shape. also the fact he eats nothing but chocolate.

^ similarly, his eye is covered by a star glitch. xe never equates this to the fact they were geno, and just see it as some weird cool glitch.

rocks an alliance with both NM and dream, so wears both the stars pin and gangs patch. he always choses the side of who benefits him the most in that moment. neither of the groups are happy about it, but see error as too valuable to deny.

has arthritis and bad joints. his strings usually dig into his fingers, causing scaring and pain. (bsp related: he gets taught how to relieve these pains by nms gang because they all have chronic pains of some kind)

taking strings from his eyes is PAINFUL. its basically his unraveled code and magic combined, glitching and stuttering.

illiterate. he cannot read anything but code.

brother of ink. annoying brothers that HATE eachother. but love eachother at the same time.

> cross (they/he)

spanish. it fits him. and its relatively canon.

cross is indecisive. they've jumped between nightmares gang and the stars several times, easily being swayed. as of my AU right now, they're with the stars.

they're colourblind! their AU was monochrome, and thats how they see everything. everything is just a shade of purple. he's never told people about it, but most people catch onto ir.

autism. cross has horrible sensory issues, and gets overwhelmed easily. also bad at social queues.

THIS MAN IS THE DEFINITION OF DOG POETRY. they would go on pinterest daily and cry about it.

is a great artist. ink taught him the basics when they were stuck in the void, so they built on it. they're really self conscious about it, and keep their sketchbook locked away tightly. (in their bedside drawer)

> reaper (he/him)

egytpian. i feel like he'd embody their idea of dying.

bird claws. bird wings. everything bird.

seen as a parental figure to dream and nightmare because of his extensive knowledge of the universe and balance n all that.

(THE GAY FLAG WAS A MISTAKE) he's bi. and loves his wife. (life)

aroace spec! completely ace, and demiromantic.

sorry guys i dont have the best hcs for him 💔

> geno (he/they)

spanish + colombian

needs a portable oxygen tube to breath. he can live without it, but its really painful to not have it.

some parts of his body are decomposed, while others are held together through determination. practically constant agony.

same reasoning as error for body shape.

> fresh (they/it)

parasite. its ass doesn't have a race nor nationality.

not the hotest with a few sanses. dream and nightmare don't like someone demeanour not being affected in the slightest by the amount of pain and agony they're in. error hates how the code overlaps and glitches. and overall they're just a bit crazy.

wears either heelies or rollerskates. refuses to EVER walk anywhere, and always rolls.

i don't got much for him.

eugh. i am so sorry if the hcs are lazy, i am not good hcing with aus im not familiar with. if anyone wants to input please do! i'd love to learn about them. <3 anyways i am sleeping because i need to stop staying up till 4am..

[xxsycamore]

❝ The Benefits of Having a Scientist Boyfriend ❞ (ISAAC X READER)

╰┈➤ 💝 Isaac surprises you with a loving gesture that will also greatly relieve your pain.

Isaac Newton x Menstruating!Reader • rating: G • tags: Menstruation; Period Cramps; Established Relationship; Fluff • wordcount: 965 • masterlist

a/n: The author is very bad at every field of science mentioned in this fic and still stubbornly made all of the needed research (plus historical research to see how possible it is for our Isaac to put this together in his current time era) while fighting cramps of her own..... Hope you enjoy and also I hope I didn't get my facts (too) wrong! If you happen to suffer from cramps and you want your favorite ikevamp suitor comforting you in their own unique way, may I also offer: Napoleon, Comte, Mozart, Theo, Leonardo, Sebastian, Arthur (NSFW), Vincent 💕(All fics in this series share the same opening scene!)

It’s another beautiful day at the mansion, and the sun is continuing to shine brightly outside as afternoon settles in. Your list of chores is more than halfway done now, the morning was a productive one and you pat yourself on the back for pushing through at your usual pace, even if your period surprised you early this morning. Sleeves rolled up and armed with a feather duster, you march towards the lounge room to take care of another chore.

Specks of dust dance in the afternoon sun, windows wide open, as you complete your task little by little. Soon the sections left to dust decrease and you start to tire - a minor pain in your tummy appears as well, as if to persuade you into taking a short break. You throw a look at the grandfather clock. You’ve been a busy bee; not even the distraction of dusting off some of Comte’s highly intriguing antiques couldn’t get you late on your own schedule.

You sit down at the spacious couch area, grab a throw pillow to hug, and fall on your side - shoe-covered feet juust hanging off the couch because it won’t be worth the effort of taking them off for just a minute or two of rest.

Uh-oh! The pain doesn’t go away and only gets worse instead. Suddenly, moving as much as a millimeter equals signing a death warrant.

“Help” You whisper to yourself, clutching onto the throw pillow.

***

You weren't aware that your inner cry for help was able to send telepathic signals to your boyfriend, but you witness the miracle of him entering through the door in the very next second.

"Isaac!" You rise to a seating position as the sight of him briefly distracts you from your pain - a big mistake on your part, but before you can ask him what brings him here, the next cramp stabs you in the guts and only a painted sound leaves your lips. "Oww…"

"Are you alright? You were curled up on the couch too."

You've already instinctively placed your hand on your lower belly and it doesn't escape Isaac's gaze, but you still pretend to be brave about it and refuse to bother him with such a minor inconvenience of yours…

"Maybe I just ate something funny at lunch? You know how it is with Sebas and his fusion cuisine, always trying to live up to everyone's taste, haha…"

Isaac stares blankly at you for a couple of seconds, then he averts his eyes.

"You can just tell me if your period came, you know…"

Was it that obvious?! Maybe Isaac just knows you well enough by now - the thought brings forth a certain warmth within you… no, that's just another cramp.

"Oww owww… fine, you guessed it… Don't scold me, I'll go look for some herbal tea in the kitchen or-"

"No, lie back down." Isaac's unexpected touch changes the focus of your sensory receptors again and your heart flutters by the simple action of him beckoning you to lie down. You oblige, looking at him with large eyes full of curiosity.

"I was just about to go out for today's école lessons but let me bring you something first. Just lie here and be patient, okay? It's going to feel better soon."

Your curiosity only grows as you watch Isaac's back until he fully disappears from sight.

***

When your boyfriend returns you're overcome with the need to sit up and see what he's carrying in his hands, but you follow his advice and remain patient.

"Some time ago when your cramps were bad like that I asked you how you dealt with them back in your era. Since then I have been, uh, working on something. I figured now would be a good time to try it out."

You blink in disbelief when Isaac hands you what looks like a… heating pad, the ones that are typically used as handwarmers in your time.

"You'll have to massage it in order for it to radiate heat, but I hope that still works for you."

"Isaac you- but how-"

"It's nothing too complex. When I heard your explanation I figured it must be caused by an exothermic reaction… I happen to be knowledgeable in thermodynamics too, you know. I just had to put a supersaturated solution of sodium acetate in water together with notched ferrous metal… Simply put, it crystalizes and radiates heat. I'm still catching up with chemistry after beginning my second life here but fortunately, it was easy enough."

Easy enough, he says…

You can't just lie still anymore, so you raise your upper half enough to wrap your arms around Isaac's shoulders… you didn't plan it out exactly like that, but the physicist ends up being dragged down on the couch with you, barely able to prop himself up on one elbow at the very last second. You keep sobbing into his neck.

"I'm sorry, I'm just so touched by your gesture! I've read about so many invitations that came out of love and-"

Isaac blushes, and he blushes badly. You see the color spreading on his cheeks when he withdraws just a tad more to leave you space to breathe, but he doesn't stand to his feet just yet.

"I guess you can call it that. I'll just be happy as long as it works for you."

Isaac punctuates his words with a chaste caress on the back of your hand which still holds the innovative heating pad. His own warmth leaves you too soon but the artificial one remains - and you find yourself wondering if you can treat it as a reminder of him, when you miss him. Maybe you should tell him that, next time you want to see his cheeks reddening like that again.

Taglist: @arsnovacadenza @kimi00twin @g-kleran @thesirenwashere @devonares @galaxyprison @sadshaxk @starshards26 @thewitchofbooks @acethephoenix256 @ikevamp-shrine-2 @nad-zeta @crystal13unny @lordsister @ikemen-banshou   @themysticalbeing @otome-scribbles @rhodolitesrose @coornn @kpop-and-otome @queen-dahlia @kisara-16 @chaosangel767 @ikemenlibrary @queengiuliettafirstlady @aurora-morning ​ @ikemenlover24 @mcofthemansion @joy-the-reader @katriniac @ikemen-writer @tele86 @lovely-bubb1es @aria-chikage @babyblue0t7 @rhodoliteschaos @shrimpy-kitsune @nightghoul381 @xbalayage @lucyw260 @kittygrimm88 @lokis-laugh @judejazza @natimiles @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf @groovylita Let me know if you want to be tagged/untagged!

[iheartsebastianmichaelis]

Stress.

⚠️: minors dni, sensorial uncomfort and corporal pain description, AFAB but gender neutral reader, fingering, mirror sex.

you have been very tense the last few days. social gatherings among the aristocracy did nothing but put you in a bad mood and stress you out when you lost track of the insignificant and trivial conversations among the nobles. you only attended for education, potential business partners, and the luxurious and unusual food they served, which clearly did not compare to the art that Sebastian had the luxury of creating in the kitchen.

on this occasion you were returning from a party with a baron whose name you had already forgotten because it seemed so irrelevant to you. maybe you had wasted time, but at least you could cross off one more item on your to-do list.

when you got out of the carriage and entered the mansion you were a mess: your hair felt sweaty, your suit was worn out, and your shoes had gotten dirty because of a clumsy waiter who tripped on you at the party. you sighed heavily, walking up the stairs towards your room while Sebastian followed behind you.

"your grace, i will prepare the bathtub with hot water to help you relax your body, in the meantime please wait in your room."

"okay, don't take so long."

"as you wish."

you entered your room and lazily began to undress, the cold of the night gave you a chill due to the abrupt change in temperature, giving you goosebumps. even with good weather setting your night, you couldn't get the frustration out of your body. so unbearable it was that even a slight pain in your temple appeared without warning.

a gentle knock on the door brought you back to reality, you knew it was Sebastian and with that an idea came to your head.

"master, may I come in?"

you were almost naked, only wearing your underwear but that was just a part of what you had in mind. with your head clear of doubts you nodded at yourself.

"sure."

Sebastian opened the door and his eyes widened in surprise. he never had seen his authority figure in such detail before, so it was only natural for him to ask your reasoning.

"good grief", he sighed "although I came here to inform you that the bathtub is ready, i can notice you weren't. i apologize if that's the case, i think it would be better for me to leave the room to give you more privacy."

"no, stay here. i wanna ask you something."

"how can i help you now?"

"i read on a book that people use to release stress with their bodies, do you know something about it?"

"i've certainly heard of that, your grace, humans usually can find relieve stimulating their bodies."

you sighed heavily as you placed your hands on your hips.

"I want to try it."

"oh? may i ask why, your grace?"

"are you seriously that much worried about wasting the bathtub water, Sebastian?" you asked teasingly, playful smile on your face. "there's no need to explain such easy understanding things, don't you think?"

he only chuckled.

you cupped his face with your hands and looked at him seriously.

"it's an order, destress me."

"yes, my master."

...

after a passionate making out session with your butler, you sat on the edge of the bed in front of your mirror, him before you and caressing your cheek with his hand.

he suddenly positioned himself on his knees in front of you and asked permission, with his exploring hands Sebastian waited for your response. a slight nod of your head was enough to give him the green light to continue. he made his way to your intimate area, leaving a trail of wet kisses, stopping right at your mound and giving a light bite to your thigh before retiring your panties. now, his sinful tongue began to trace a slow and pleasant up and down pattern on your slit. your mind felt foggy, his tongue was slightly making you feel more and more impatient when he thrusted vaguely into you or sucked on your clit vehemently. as time passed by and your moans became more loud he knew you were close to your climax so he stopped dead, surprising you and making you pout.

"i don't remember telling you to stop, Sebastian." you said frustrated.

"and I won't, excellency." he said with a calm, smug face while removing his gloves.

Sebastian then moved behind you, cradling you in his arms and slowly sliding them to your wet, sweet spot. starting with two fingers, he massaged your clit, giving gentle strokes and moving it in circles. your head was now tilted back and resting on his shoulder, soft whines leaving your mouth.

"oya, oya. someone's acting so eager already, aren't you dear?"

"s-shut up."

the clear and humiliating expression reflected on your face in the mirror was enough to motivate sebastian to tease and mock you.

you hissed and bit your lips every time he increased the speed or his strength in his movements between your folds. the moans you let out did nothing but invite him to continue taking them out of your mouth.

two of his long, thin fingers made their presence felt inside your wet interior, he thrust into you with confidence and strength, but not to the point of being painful or overwhelming. Just like he had said, you were excited. your hips moved back and forth, seeking to bury his fingers to your sweetest spot if that was possible.

"please keep going like that, haah."

"understood." he placed a kiss on your neck, making you tremble.

when he could deduce that you were close again, he moved his fingers faster and his thumb got busy giving soft and pleasant half-moons on your clit. your breathing became faster and your mouth got rid of all shame, letting out loud, pleasurable moans into Sebastian's ear.

"that's it, just follow what your body leads you to." he whispered into your ear before kissing and licking it.

suddenly you felt a chill and an energizing spasm run through your entire body, your back arched and your tongue slightly stuck out of your mouth. your legs were shaking and your chest was rising and falling: you had reached your orgasm. with your face burning with embarrassment you looked down and noticed the mess that was dripping onto his fingers that were still inside you. He gently gave small thrusts trying to prolong your ecstasy, you only hummed and moaned his name in response.

when Sebastian considered it was enough, he took his fingers out of you, kissing your neck and jaw, trying to massage your chest and collarbones with his clean hand, in order to help you relax your body.

"and... did this help you, your grace?"

you nodded frantically, but then noticed he got up from your behind and your back was surprised with the messy and warm sheets.

you looked up at him, noticing how he started to unbuckle his belt.

"I can try another method to destress you, excellency. just say the word, say my name and allow me to do the rest."

A/N: hii sorry for dying lol but happy season 4 for everyone LMAO!! I literally screamed and fell to the ground seeing profesor Michaelis 🤭 anyway, listen: i TRIED so bad to write actually smut but i swear i need to go bit by bit cuz i just suck 😭😭 sorry if this is so messy 💀

[heartofbusan]

Finally.

As we hit the halfway point of AYS, I've been wondering about the overall story arc. What part of the story is the one that floats over the entire narrative? To me, it is also the story that is the most sensory one, the one thing about AYS that touches me and sets my mind off of these tangents.

I'll give you a clue:

It's them. Their interactions.

The way jikook as a pair kicked off this journey was a contentious one. We all remember the first episode and the talk they had. There are many reasons, from the editing to the self censoring jikook do in front of the camera that have led to #TheCarScene making the audience feel either uncomfortable or made them sit at the edge of their seat. Hanging off of every word (and translation). There is both a lot happening and not enough. But not many can say that scene left them unmoved. I like that! That means that the audience is engaged! It pulls us in. Especially those of us who love to observe human communication. Yet, now we long to move on from the discomfort that interaction sparked. We long for catharsis. To feel that the conversation they had isn't just hanging there balancing them on a precipice, but that it will be OK for them in the end.

Jungkook’s "Finally" went a long way to guide us to such a resolution, but to me, his relieved exclaim is just the beginning. This, to me, is what the entire show portends to be about.

How does that 'Finally' look like throughout the 8 episodes? How will we look back on that 'Finally' once we've seen them all?

Like I said, we're at the halfway point (already 😭), episode 4, and where is that on-screen relationship building towards? What kind of 'beats' does the story NEED to hit in order to come to a satisfying conclusion within the shows narrative? How does the show earn that 'Finally'?

Sure, Are You Sure is a 'travel-vlog-mukbang-buddy-cop-show', but it's also the story of two seemingly estranged best friends/lovers who've been incredibly busy and who've taken it upon themselves to carve out time to be at ease together. If we look at their busy schedules as being in the way of them being THEM, then the most important goal of AYS is to get them back to that state.

Are You Sure is jikook's safe heaven.

If we were to look at all episodes as a way to work towards that hypothetical goal (Jikook back on the same wavelength) then the story beats per episode look a little like this.

Ep. 1: Two friends embark on road-trip, they've missed eo and want to do fun things together. Lot's of eating.

Ep. 2: Even short term illness can't keep them from sightseeing and eating, more warming up together: spanking in bed edition

Ep. 3: Surprise guest! Cut the camera's: the duo take a pause on domesticity and play games as a trio.

Ep. 4: The duo is the core of the story, pick up where they left off: re-kindling. They make beautiful moments together.

Ep. 5: I expect another conversation about their desire to spend meaningful time together 'Deep talk phase 01'. New location?

Ep. 6: New location but treasured memories pop-up from their first Tokyo trip. What does the future for this duo look like (the military service talk?) aka 'Deep talk phase 02'.

Ep. 7: Level-up: fun snow time activities?!

Ep. 8: More deep talk, 'Phase 03' that cements this duo as utterly and completely besotted with eo. They either talk about their joint enlistment or about traveling after MS...maybe both.

How do you think the next episodes will play out if we think of each episode as building towards a satisfying conclusion?

[toysrguts]

smiling friends headcanons!! :D

i have smiling friends brainrot

allan:

•wine is his de-stresser. after a long shift he likes to go home and sip on a glass of wine while watching shit TV like some kind of cool guy

•doesn't smoke cigarettes often but will bum one off of charlie sometimes during their breaks

•bites people he loves :)

•perhaps his dr. monsters appointment with dr. monster was an appointment to assess him for OCD

•very very particular about the way he likes things and hates unexpected change in his routine

•also a math god he's like a walking calculator

•always helping other people reach things that they cant

•he has to be like 6’3 or something probably

•autism be damned my boy can work a grill (he can cook really well)

•in fact hes often the one cooking meals for the other smiling friends

•he also lovessss to garden its one of his favorite hobbies

•he grows his own vegetables to cook with and flowers to decorate his home :)

•i feel like this man would get down to some queen or duran duran

•he’ll listen to pretty much anything but i feel like he would gravitate towards 80s classics

•used to own a car that he loved but it broke down and he never bought another one

•went to school for engineering and started volunteering at smiling friends after graduating as kind of a placeholder job, but loved it so much it became his full time job

•cheese is his safe food

•had to wear glasses when he was younger but felt like they deterred the ladies so he switched to wearing contacts

•probably drinks black coffee like a fucking freak

•either that or he adds oat milk

•hes pretty anxious and freaks out a lot and will also snap if he has sensory overload

•wears noise canceling headphones a lot cause too much noise drives him insane

•HATES fabric touching his skin but will still wear a tie cause “it’s classy” and will wear clothes if hes out in public

•once took a trip to france and almost didnt come back cuz it was like cheese heaven

•goes clubbing during some of his nights off and is a karaoke GOD

•also goated at chess and gets heated during a game of scrabble

charlie:

•definitely sneaks a cart into work every day

•if allan didn’t cook this dude would go into debt from ordering takeout every day

•was raised mostly by his uncle cause his parents werent always around, and they're more like really good friends now that hes older

•grew up poor and had a pretty hard childhood overall but he doesn't dwell on it too much

•relieves his stress and frustration by terrorizing people in fortnite lobbies

•the smiling friends hq is air conditioned 24/7 per his request, he's heat sensitive and sweats EXCESSIVELY

•uses axe body spray to mask the stench

•his living conditions are depressing to look at, the only furniture in his apartment is a mattress and an old camping chair he borrowed from his uncle years ago

•also probably owns a shelf dedicated to lego builds

•he spends like 90% of his time in his bed if not working

•his morning routine consists of waking up disoriented asf, throwing on some clothes laying on the floor, forgetting to brush his teeth and walking out the door

•was exposed to shock sites wayyy too young

•acted out and got in trouble a lot in his adolescence but now just likes to keep to himself for the most part

•believe it or not he was baptized as a baby

•started caring about life a little more ever since experiencing hell

•feel like he likes music his uncle showed him as a kid, maybe judas priest and whitesnake type shit

•doesn’t even have to say anything when he goes to salty’s cause hes a regular and they know his exact order

•thats a bisexual man if ive ever seen one

•the hat hides his receding hairline lul

•has a fat ass surgical scar on his nose from when james ripped it off

•wears the same beat up white adidas shoes and got in highschool

•owns one of those “dubstep, weed and jacking off” shirts

•hes an only child but pim is like a brother to him

•had a family dog growing up and is a dog person overall

pim:

•begs to play roblox when anyone else is playing video games in the office

•curls up into a ball when he sleeps

•also will freak out without a night light

•his room is definitely littered with stuffed animals

•grew up watching mlp (g1) and probably still owns some pony figures

•and says “hello everypony!!” when entering a room

•played a LOT of browser and flash games as a youngster like club penguin and moviestar planet

•genuinely finds beauty in everything i wish i was on his level of joy and whimsey

•would totally listen to vocaloid and would totally go on a super long tangent about how its so cool and holograms are so cool

•also has a collection of light sticks and miku plushies and definitely kisses his miku poster goodnight

•i feel like he ate paint chips as a child

•craves social interaction cuz his parents had a rocky marriage and were neglectful and his sister treated him like shit when they were kids

•his sister would tug on his nerve ending when she got annoyed

•having a rough upbringing and dysfunctional family is what pushed him to start working for smiling friends, hes genuinely passionate about making people smile and just wants to help people who are in bad situations like he was

•prone to panic attacks :(

•sings little songs to calm himself down

•flails his arms or jumps around when hes excited

•still uses pool floaties when swimming lmao

•also still loves to dress up and play pretend as an adult

•mmmmm loves sweets what is a nutritious meal?????

•wore glasses growing up but just kind of stopped for some reason probably cuz his eyes are fucking massive

glep:

•chronic cyberbully-er

•tells people to kts in his gibberish language when they annoy him

•has most likely caused several wars across the globe

•puts whatever he wants on the tv and then hides the remote and watches everyone fight over who took it

•small but lets out the most diabolical burps imaginable

•is fluent in every single language on earth and probably space too

•absolutely brainrotted from that ipad he wont stop watching skibidi toilet

•unties peoples shoes when theyre not paying attention

•little guy has never known sobriety in his life

•has so many random ass pictures and videos saved on his tablet

•hes like a little vlogger

•if someone says or does something he doesnt like he’ll probably hire a hitman on them

•definitely has access to the deep web

•hates gardening but will help allan out with it once in a while for something in return (like a grilled cheese or some weed or something)

•also will sit next to allan while hes cooking so he can eat all the scraps

[signanothername]

yess love that you made Nightmare a lil mamas boy, like tbh, i feel like he was such a lil mama boys cause he spent all his time with her, like in my opion, no one loved their mom more then nightmare.

but life if Nim was a good mom is sorta iffy, idk, i feel like she loved Dream and Nightmare, but still neglected them. not because she didn't care, but more cause she just wasn't ready to be a mom.

but god the grief Nightmare must of felt after he killed Nim and thought he killed Dream must've been crazy. wonder if he ever wished that Nim came back alive instead of Dream. maybe said that to Dream cause he would just to be a bitch.

but yeah, would love if you talked about what you thought Nim and the twins relationship was like.

HE ISSSS!!! He’s such a mama’s boy and it’s exactly cause he spent all his time with her

To Nightmare, his mom was also his only friend in a way, she was the only one keeping him company, and I like to think Nightmare used to talk to her a lot, about his favorite books and about Dream and about how lonely he felt

His mom was his only confidant and companion

The thing is tho? Yeah Nim was a neglectful mother, a very neglectful mother, and i’d say a horrible one even

Despite Nim’s circumstances in which she’s literally a tree, she’s alive in there and her spirit is heavily rooted in the tree, and by extension, rooted in Dream and Nightmare, she could at any time communicate with the twins, not in a telepathic way, but more in a sensory way, remember how i said Nightmare and Dream have roots that connect with everyone in the multiverse? It works the same way to an extent

Nim can communicate by sending signals to Dream and Nightmare, but instead of it being connected by soul, it’s that the twins are a direct extension of the tree, she could’ve at least made Nightmare feel safe at any point by signaling to him that she’s there, she could’ve made him feel less lonely by telling him she enjoys his company, etc

But she never did, she watched Nightmare cry and let him do so without giving him any reassurance, she cares about the twins but not enough to form any true emotional bond/connection with them, she cared in the sense of feeling a bit of pity for Nightmare’s circumstance but not feel protective of him, she made the twins last second before turning to the tree after all, to her, these are less like her children and more like assets she made to protect her cause she can’t protect herself, and the worst part? They’re replaceable to her, she can always make new guardians to protect herself if she wanted, and she even thought of doing so as she wasn’t convinced that children are strong enough to protect her, that was simply a mistake cause she made them seconds before her “death”

But Nightmare doesn’t know any of that, the only thing he knows is that his mother is there for them but simply incapable of communication, all hopeful and innocent little Nightmare knows is that his mother would burn the world down for them if she could (when in reality she wouldn’t)

And that’s all adult Nightmare knows too, he never got to know how little care Nim had for them

And oh the grief Nightmare feels for his mother weighs down so much, to the point Nightmare wishes he could turn back the clock just so he could stop himself from killing her, but he can’t, and he has to live with that

I wouldn’t say Nightmare wishes Nim came back to life instead of Dream, but he definitely wishes she comes back to life, cause in a way, turning Dream to stone wasn’t what Nightmare meant to do either, to little Nightmare? He just lost his entire family in one night, so when Dream got out of stone, part of Nightmare is beyond relieved, cause for the longest time he thought Dream was dead and had to live with that grief too

And tbh? I think even if Nightmare knew how little care Nim had for them it would eat away at him, but still wouldn’t change his love for her, know how sometimes even when the parent is neglecting or horrible, the child just can’t bring themselves to hate their parent? It’s the same thing with Nightmare, and if Nightmare knew how neglecting Nim is he’d be in even more pain and distress because he would try his hardest to hate her, cause how dare she? But Nightmare would know that he actually can’t bring himself to hate her no matter how hard he tries and it would make him so mad at himself

And y’know, I’ve been actually thinking about why Nightmare would even cut the tree down, even in his state of madness he’d still know not to cut the tree, and I like to think it’s cause the only time Nim ever communicated with the twins at all is during the Apple incident, in which she cursed both Dream’s and Nightmare’s names, she cursed Dream’s name for being too weak and naive for believing the villagers are his friends, and cursed Nightmare’s name for being exactly the demon the villagers deemed him to be, and Nightmare’s actions were instantaneous, one second Nim is screaming at the twins, the next? She’s dead

And Nightmare was just too disoriented to realize what he did untill reality set in

Nightmare and Dream still get nightmares/night terrors as the voice of their mother’s screams haunt them every damn day of their lives

Both twins have to live knowing that the last emotion (and only emotion they got to feel from their mother since they were born) was deep rooted anger and resentment :)

[turtle-steverogers]

a lot of your hcs about Steve give me neurodivergent feelings and I was wondering if you feel like Steve is autistic or perhaps just has a lot of sensory issues/social issues because of the serum and his life experience that can he comparable to experiences people with autism have?

also if you do Steve as autistic, do you think he'd ever seek a diagnosis? what would his reaction be? my bff finally got her diagnoses for autism and ADHD earlier this week and she was so relieved and happy to finally have doctors listen to her. idk something about her happiness made me think of steve because he makes me happy too.

(your blog makes me very happy too xx)

hello hello hello!

you just unlocked my most precious and dead headcanon, oh anon. i do, in fact, headcanon steve as autistic. part of it is self-indulgent projection, and i certainly expand on traits that are already there in a direct way to maintain that headcanon, but i do also feel like it's not entirely out of the ballpark for him as a character!

the second part of your question is really interesting, and my answer is... maybe? i have an ongoing RP with a friend where he was diagnosed by a therapist, not because he sought a diagnosis, but because this particular therapist saw the traits within him and recommended he seek one, and honestly, i feel like that is probably most accurate to how it would go for him seeing as autism wasn't a prevalent or talked about thing in any casual capacity before the ice, so he wouldn't really... know to seek out a diagnosis/connect that certain perspectives, ways he views the world, and struggles he may have align with autism. but i love the thought that once he is diagnosed, so many personal questions are answered, and he is able to go on a journey to recontextualize things for himself and begin to accommodate and celebrate himself! so yes, relief is a very strong result of that for him, i'm sure

[shiningqueen]

silk rope, soy candles / nsfw mihawk x afab!reader

Honestly, this has lived rent free in my brain for over a week. So please enjoy this self indulgent piece. Rating: NSFW / minors do not interact Pairing: Mihawk x afab!reader Contents: consensual light bondage, light sensory deprivation, waxplay, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), biting, PiV intercourse, use of gendered pronouns (fem) and relevant parts. Notes: enthusiastic consent is important. also this is just as fay coded as my other works but none of you should be surprised.

The slide of soft braided rope bites into your wrists as you test the knots, muscles taut in the wake of another whole body shiver of cresting pleasure. You bite down on a throaty whine at the wet lave of a tongue circling your swollen bud. 

Your struggle does not go unnoticed, because the push-pull of euphoria is halted and lanced through by teeth stinging against your thigh. 

“What did I say?” The reprimand of your golden eyed lover is husked against your thigh, his stare is both warning and tease.

Your jaw tenses, “No freeing myself without permission,” but still your shoulders twist slightly against the bindings keeping your hands pinned behind your back. “You’re being cruel,” you accuse, muscles twitching from being denied release twice now.

Mihawk scoffs and slowly rises from where he knelt between your legs, palms like brands as they rest on your thighs and he hovers over you. “Cruel?” He echoes softly, expression predatory as he pushes you firmly to lay back on the bed.

You squirm from the uncomfortable press of your tethered hands into your lumbar, but Mihawk only applies more pressure to dig that discomfort deeper while coming to kneel between your spread thighs. There’s nothing to cover either of you, so there is no mistaking he is just as aroused as you are.

“I should loose these bonds if you’re just going to torture me,” you bite at him impatiently, and he knows you are fully capable of doing so easily. There was no restraint that could hold you - that you let him bind you was an act of trust.

He smirks at your indignation, “You won't,” tone silky as his hand skims up slowly from your navel, over your chest and clavicle before stopping briefly at your throat. Not to grasp you but merely lay his palm there, “but you do not grasp how cruel I can truly be, querida.” Mihawk hisses and in too quick of a motion, the warmth of his touch on your neck is gone - fingers knotting in your hair tightly and pulling to force your spine to curve off the bed.

He holds you taut, head tilted with eyes on the ceiling, so you can only feel how he grasps your hip in his other hand and drags the hot length of his cock through your wet, aching folds. 

The friction forces a moan out of you, frustrated yet simultaneously relieved from the throb pulsing in your core - but gods, the way Mihawk slowly ruts against you is blissful. 

“I can do this,” he emphasizes with a grunt, coating his length in your abundant slick and huffing from the pleasurable jolts the motion brings, “all night. Hold you down and only pursue my own relief.” The threat makes you squirm in his grasp but he holds fast, growling as he tugs on your hair painfully. 

“Behave and we both get what we want,” there’s a breathless quality to his voice despite himself, relishing in the way your hips grind up against his thrusts wantonly. The flex of your muscles beneath sweat beaded skin and the shaky keening sounds you make, even though you try to remain defiant under his control, delight him down to his marrow. 

You still think him cruel. How he leisurely strokes his length through your sex but refuses to bury himself inside you, where you desperately want him most, inner walls clenching around nothing. That gradual build up of pleasure but never close enough to the edge was exquisite torment.

“Please,” you whimper, trembling and Mihawk takes some pity on you by releasing the harsh grip on your hair, allowing you to slump down against the bed. You meet his hungry gaze with an equally heated look, “I’ll play nice for now,” you tease softly.

A chuckle rumbles in his chest as he drapes himself over you, caging you between his arms and nuzzling along your shoulder, lips grazing over the intricate lines of tattoos inked there. “Don’t be so impatient, starling,” he chides lowly and stifles any retort by slotting his mouth over yours. The kiss is deep and heady, tongue pushing past your lips to taste you and muffle your canting moans.

Mihawk’s languid thrusts continue whilst he kisses you, stoking the smoldering arousal in your belly, and it’s difficult to focus on anything else beyond the passionate claim of his mouth and the pulse in your core. Your hands clench beneath you, the longing to touch him was still present.

You’re too distracted to notice him reaching for something, until a strip of cloth is draped gently over your eyes and secured in place with a deft knot. Robbed of your sight, you fall still and exhale slowly to soothe the exciting twist of anxiety and anticipation running wild in your veins. Then Mihawk’s weight is lifted off you entirely and you protest the loss of him, stubbornly keeping your legs locked around his hips.

“You’re being so good for me, little bird,” Mihawk purrs approvingly while skimming his palms over your thighs, lust simmering under his skin as he admires you. This whole ordeal was an exercise in restraint, as every noise and encouraging movement from you wore away at his self control. He ached fiercely to have you but there was such a delicious appeal in drawing it out, luxuriating in the moment.

You thrum with titillation that becomes a euphoric spasm when fingers stroke along your inner thigh and then nimbly part your folds, gasping at the expert touch of digits at your clit. Circling, stroking, then dipping lower to sink into you. You clench tight around the intrusion and relish hearing Mihawk hiss under his breath, pushing his fingers deeper as he leans over you again.

Then you feel heat, a thick droplet of wax landing just above your navel. Even if you had known it would come eventually, it was still a surprise and the flush of new sensation has you tensing. 

In that very brief lapse of contact between you and him, Mihawk had lit a candle and held it steady in his right hand as the flame danced and softened the wax. He kept it aloft while his left worked between your legs, mindful not to let any accidental droplets fall on your flesh after the first. 

“Is it good, amor? Not too hot?” He asks sincerely, stilling the thrust of his fingers to give you a moment to breathe and process.

“I like it,” you assure him quietly, “keep going.” All your senses had grown more acute being sightless, every touch and sound amplified to provocative degrees. The wax had been a vexing combination of not-quite pain and ticklish pleasure.

With your encouragement, Mihawk resumes the gradual movement of his left hand, middle and ring fingers stroking the slick inner muscles of your center, working you up again from that temporary lull. 

It does not take long for you to be gasping and moaning from his ministrations, subtle tremors in your shoulders as you strain against the ropes again. Mihawk doesn't admonish you even if he notices, focusing instead on slowly dripping wax over your soft stomach. He marvels at the way you twitch as the wax lands, sometimes paired with a breathy giggle, how it oozes a few centimeters before cooling entirely; relishes the hitch in your voice each time. It’s viscerally sensual and it makes his arousal all the more poignant.

“Look at you, my pretty songbird,” he croons, voice thick with want as he grinds the heel of his palm against your clit, near grinning as you cry out from a particularly intense jolt of pleasure.

Your teeth lock against another moan as the hot wax beads along your torso and the heady promise of your climax builds, jerking your hips erratically with the pace of Mihawk’s digits. You whine and stutter around his name, uttering broken pleas that he doesnt stop. 

That he does not for a third time's a blessing; you don’t notice that he stops dripping wax when the rushing tide of orgasm breaks over you. A burst of heat and convulsing muscles, arching off the bed with a strangled shout that ebbs into whimpering for how the high slowly ebbs.

Mihawk is almost beside himself with ardent lust, unraveling you in this way that is so vulnerable and tactile is intoxicating. He withdraws from you, fingers coated in your slick and hums approvingly as he licks them clean. The candle, long snuffed out, is set aside and for a moment he traces the patterns of dried wax on your skin as you lay prone.

“Now you may unbind yourself, florecita.” 

Such sweet relief granted to you! Even in your haze, you nimbly loosen your wrists from the soft rope and pull your arms out from beneath you, stretching out languorously over the blankets. The blindfold is removed too just in time to catch Mihawk as he crawls over you, eagerly you reach to embrace him with a fey-like smile tugging at your mouth. You shift your legs to accommodate him settling between them and purr at the hot press of his cock against your inner thigh.

“Next time, I will drip wax on you, while you’re tied up.” You remark playfully, tracing your fingers along the sharp lines of his facial hair.

He rumbles with mirth, the vibration felt deep in your own chest as he presses flush to you, “As you wish, mi vida,” lips tickling at your throat as he wastes no time in rocking his hips forward to enter you. Breath luffed hot and damp over you as he sheathes himself to the hilt quickly, grinding deep and firm to enjoy the wet clench of you around him.

You gasp at being filled so abruptly and shiver, feeling him at every nerve, hooking one of your legs around him for leverage as you match his tempo. Now there is no reason to be slow or careful, you tangle hands into his black hair and pull him into an impatient, ravenous kiss. The groan that vibrates in Mihawk’s throat is nothing short of carnal.

The rhythm builds and the kiss gets messy, open mouths and teeth nipping between grunts and stifled moans. There’s no breath or thought for words, Mihawk chasing his end after having denied himself for so long in the pursuit of yours. He sinks his teeth into the meat of your shoulder with a snarl, the slap of skin on skin briefly drowned beneath your voice rising several octaves in rapturous abandon.

You dig and drag your nails over him, panting hoarsely as air is punched out of your lungs with every thrust, shoulder aching from the bruise forming under his mouth. The pain is only a complement to the pleasure of having him.

Mihawk huffs as he curls over you, hips stuttering as he reaches his limit, trembling from the force of his own climax as he sinks into you with finality. Every thick pulse is timed with a deep roll of his pelvis until the whiteout of orgasm fades and he’s prying his teeth from your shoulder. The indents left behind are kissed tenderly in fatigued apology.

You both sigh and settle, skin to skin and allowing each other’s hearts to ease into steadier patterns. It’s quiet moments of calming touches and featherlight kisses until Mihawk pulls away from your embrace to sit up. 

“Stay,” he says coolly, “I’ll draw us a bath.”

You’re happy to obey, boneless and drowsy on the bed. He collects you shortly thereafter, cradling you in his arms as he carries you to wash and relax in steaming waters. 

You curl against his chest in the bath, dozy like a spoiled cat and softly hum one of his favorite songs as the night wanes on in serenity.

[blueclownsworld]

Could you do autistic non-binary reader with Dazai, Chuuya, Sigma or Kunikida? Like reader has a bad sensory day and their s/o tries to make a comfortable environment for them!

Sorry if this is too much aaaa,,,,,

Author's note: thank you for the request, hopefully you like it !! ( also it's not too much, i like detailed requests )

Content: s/o Sigma, non-binary autistic reader, fluff, Kunikida hcs relating to the request in the end ( as a separate part )

You were at the Sky Casino with your s/o Sigma, just talking and spending time with him whenever he wasn't occupied with helping customers. Though, as the evening arrived, so did a group of talkative and loud customers. The casino had already been noisy, but now it achieved a whole new level. It was simply too much.

"Are you okay?" Sigma asked as he walked back to you after helping a customer. He noticed the discomfort you had, and the way you seemed to be avoiding everyone.

You were visibly relieved as your s/o's voice brought you back to the situation. "Uh, it's too loud and busy here."

His eyebrows furrowed in worry "You don't have to be here if you don't want to. I can take you to my office, And I have a couple of books there too, if you feel like reading."

"Yeah, I'd prefer that", you answered.

🎀

Not a long after you got to his office, it was peaceful and quiet there as the noises of the casino didn't reach that far. The lighting was also more pleasant, a dim yellow light barely glowing in the darkness.

"Would you like a hug?" Sigma offered after he closed the door behind him.

You nodded, and he asked "A tight one?" as he knew that those usually helped you feel more at ease.

"Mhm, super tight", you confirmed and hugged him, his arms wrapping around you tightly right after.

Sigma kept his arms wrapped around you for some time, slowly rubbing your back to help you relax more.

After he felt that you had fully calmed down, he pulled away and asked "Feeling better now?"

"Yes, thank you", you smiled.

"No need to thank me, I'm just glad you're feeling better", Sigma answered with that usual caring tone of his.

"Hm, I'm going to go back to the casino now, see you in couple of hours after my shift ends", he said and gave a kiss on your forehead before returning to the casino.

🎀

Kunikida headcanons:

would have detailed notes about you and your preferences on things in his notebook; including your comfort foods, clothes, activities, environment.. If you ever told him that you were having a bad sensory day, he'd pull out his notebook and read about your favourite things and about what usually managed to make you feel better

would understand and feel your pain ( he seems very autistic to me :P )

if, by any chance, Dazai's constant yelling had caused you discomfort.. Well, you'd receive a hand-written apology for him after ( Kunikida had to give him a death glare and couple of threats ), promising that he'd keep his tone at a reasonable level

and ofcourse, Kunikida would always carry some useful items with him incase you needed them. That included noise-cancelling headphones, sensory toys, anything that you usually preferred in moments of discomfort

🎀

[cannibalsmayhem]

TRANSABLEISM.

What is transableism ?

Transableism is characterized by the desire for a non-disabled individual to acquire a specific disability such as the loss of a sense or a limb (amputation, paralysis, blindness, deafness, etc.), thus placing them in a situation of disability.

The opposite of transabled is cisabled wich describes a person who does have that disability bodily.

Transableism is a new thing ?

No, ''transabled'' is a sociological and political term coined by Sean O'connor in 2004 in attempts to demedicalize disability desires and views them as healthy person's challenge to the stigma of disability as created by social norms. Researchers and transabled people use a variety of terms to describe it. some people refer to "apotemnophilia" a term that have been used the first time in a 1977 article by psychologists Gregg Furth and John Money. We do not recomand this term.

Then, In 2004 Michael First published the first clinical research in which he surveyed fifty-two people with the condition, a quarter of whom had undergone an amputation. Based on that work, First coined the term "body integrity identity disorder" (BIID) to express what he saw as more of an identity disorder than a paraphilia.

The newest term, ''xenomelia'' was established to acknowledge the neurologic component of the condition after neuroimaging studies showed structural changes to the right parietal lobe in individuals who desired amputation of their left lower limb, thus linking the part of the brain that processes sensory input from the affected limb. (McGeoch and others 2011).

Friendly reminder that a transabled person do not necessary experience body integrity identity dysphoria (BIID). People with BIID (dysphorics transableds) experience a suffering with a part of their body, such as a limb, and feel that removing or disabling that part of their body will relieve the discomfort. People with the condition may have intense feelings of envy toward amputees. They may pretend to be an amputee, both publicly and privately. Patients who experience the above symptoms consider them strange and abnormal.

Confusions.

Body dysmorphic disorder is sometimes confounded with disability desires. The two conditions may share a preoccupation with a specific part of one's body, but body dysmorphic disorder is typically concerned with the visual aspects of that part, which is never the case in disability desires. Also, the concerns in body dysmorphic disorders usually focus on facial parts, not on major limbs or sense.

WHY ?

A study conducted by Michael B. First on 52 aspiring or volunteer amputees shows that the main reason given is to regain their true identity, to correct an anatomical anomaly. It is difficult to establish precisely why this need manifests itself in transabled people, even if there are neurological and biological leads. The only difference between a transabled person and a transgender person would be the level of social acceptance of each phenomenon. As transgender people, the transition to the desired body in transabled people is associated with greater general well-being, and a significative decrease in suicidal and depressive thoughts.

It's a choice ?

No, feel the desire to acquire a physical deficit isn't a choice but start a process in order to acquire a disability is a choice. Just as for trans people, they do not choose to be trans but they choose (often the pressure of gender dysphoria) to transition.

When someone realize they are transabled ?

The disabled- desires comes very early in their life. Their first experiecs of such desires are felt in their childhood, around the age of 7 this study found.

Psychological therapy, psychopharmacological drugs and relaxation techniques had little effect and sometimes increased desire. They can reduces symptoms like depression, but not disability desires per se.

This study shows that the amputation of the healthy body part appears to result in remission of BIID and an impressive improvement of quality of life. 100% of transabled who had recived a surgical amputation confirm that it was helpful. With medication 73% pretended that this treatement for BIID was unhelpful and 60% confirm that therapy was unhelpful. Betweet those who recieved and didn't recieve an ambutation, those who didn't recievent it said that BIID had an extreme negative impact in their personal happinnes (17,2 in the Y-BOCS scale) in comparison, those who recieve an amputation affirmate that BIID had a extreme low effect in their personal life (3,2 on the Y-BOCS scale).

Psychotherapy was often supportive, but did not help diminishing BIID symptoms.

Those who didn't recieve an ambutation confirmate that BIID had severely disrupt their work counter a very neglectical effect (3,2 ON Y-BOCS scale) for those who recieve an amputation.

Several others studies: (1) (2) (3) shows that all transabled people who have successfully made the transition say they are very satisfied and happy.

In all cases quality of life was rated to be substantially increased, and no new disability desire emerged post-surgery. There is considerable support for the view that elective amputations can be ethically justified , even if long-term effects of the intervention still need to be assesse

Dangers for not letting a person acquire the desired handicap.

Amputations seem to be the only effective solution. Denying these people the only treatment that can cure their dysphoria will only prolong their suffering and many trans-capacitated individuals will therefore opt for dangerous solutions, such as turning to the black market, attempting to perform their own surgery, or injuring themselves severely enough that a doctor has no choice but to proceed with the amputation of an unwanted limb. It's like denying to a dysphoric transgender person the right to transition.

Why is not different from transgender people ?

Like transgender people, transabled people feel an internal identity that they seek to match with their body. The only difference between the two is the level of social acceptance, unlike transgender people, transabled people in addition to being even more stigmatized and marginalized by the ableist and cisableist society than transgender people, do not benefit from surgical intervention allowing them to obtain the desired body.

Anti-choice arguments.

Anti-choice authors in relation to transbled- surgical operations argue that these people are not autonomous, 'irrational', alienated by their conditionality and cannot make an informed choice. Elliott (2009, p. 159) summarizes the authors' position well (without adhering to it): "These objections focus on the nature of the 'wannabe's' belief that they should have a limb amputated, suggesting that because it is bizarre, irrational, and obsessive, they are unable to properly 'weigh' the information relevant to the decision, that these desires are not autonomous, and are not to be respected or followed. On the one hand, in light of previous data, this position is not scientifically supported and is based on prejudice and impression. Authors who support transabled-surgery argue that refusing it would be violating the first ethical principle of autonomy; if these people are rational and do not make their decision under coercion, their autonomy must be respected. On the other hand, this question of autonomy and rational choice rests on double standards. The very requirement of an explanation and a rational to justify this need obscures the fact that for many very important decisions in our lives, these explanations rationality are not required; for example, playing dangerous sports, having children, going on a humanitarian mission to a war-torn country, or simply choosing to live are not subject to the same questioning and the same requirement of rationality. As Gheen (2009, p. 99) argues, most of the choices we make do not have "rationality" and cannot be explained; we have needs and desires, we realize them, and no one demands evidence of rationality from these actions that sometimes have considerable impacts on our lives and the lives of others. Gheen argues that if this need of the transabled is considered irrational and illegitimate, it is because it goes outside the dominant norms.

Important barriers.

In addition to society's ableism and cisableism, the Hippocratic Oath, by which physicians pledge to "do no harm" to their patients, is the main barrier between a transabled person and his or her disability; practitioners cannot help individuals acquire an impairment that is presumed to have a "detrimental" effect on their lives (Johnston and Elliot, 2002). But an ethical question arises and a paradox emerges. Should we leave transabled dysphoric people in a state of severe suffering, causing them depressive symptoms and even suicidal ideas with the belief that amputation will have a "negative" impact on their lives, when we know that this is not true as datas we have seen previously, rather than allowing them to acquire the desired disability thus allowing their body dyphoria to remit and increasing their general well-being? If doctors commit themselves not to harm their patients isn't it paradoxical to refuse the only possible treatment, i.e. the medical acquisition of a handicap via a surgical intervention to someone, keeping them consequently in a state harmful to his mental health? In other words, the doctor refusing health care to someone who needs it is the equivalent of a health care professional refusing to allow a dysphoric transgender person to undergo a medical transition: it is bad from a moral point of view as well as from the point of view of the person's mental health and exposes them to the risk that she voluntarily injures themself or that they performs their own surgery with all the potential dangers on their life and their health that such a decision implies and opposes the fundamental freedom hard won by social movements to do what we want with our body.

Pt: If you dont like us, just block! Feel free to ask for more information about the label.

Pt: DNI: Truscum, heavy religius, dahlia/winter, antiradqueer, anti transids, anti paras, anti muds, anti mspec, anti endos, anti profic, hypoharmful, non-good faith, anti cosang, anti therian, otherkin (etc), terfs, anti xenogenders or xenoids, pro-harrasment of any type, anti kink, anti agere/petre.