#and that has a lot of unfortunate implications

[biocrafthero]

Something I feel like is not being talked enough about regarding N25's WL2 is Mizuki's current situation in the alt timeline. Sure, she appears happy—she gets to do what she loves without fear of judgement and be the person she wants to be—but she is painfully alone.

Mizuki pushes people away and walls herself off emotionally from her peers, literally saying that getting involved like that is too much of a hassle. The only person we see her interact with that she has any kind of implication of closeness or vulnerability is Rui, and even then he's kept away by the distance Mizuki is constantly maintaining between her and the rest of the world. The people she becomes close friends with in the canon timeline (those people being the rest of Nightcord) are nothing more than strangers passing through her life that she speaks to once or twice and then never again.

From what I've learned about the transfem experience, this is a really unfortunate reality for a lot of people. There's a stereotype that a lot of trans women have hobbies that largely keep them indoors and away from people, and this is because these hobbies and lines of work are safe for them. They're forcibly driven out from the public eye for daring to exist outside of what has been deemed "acceptable" and going out can put them in danger of harassment and assault.

With regard to Mizuki's character and her story, she's already gone out of her way to avoid going to school and being around her peers in the canon timeline. In the WL2 timeline this is pushed to its natural conclusion if she hadn't found support through N25: she dropped out of school entirely. While she still does go outside, it's never for socializing and mostly for work. Her design studio is her bedroom and she never collaborates with others. Once again, art imitates life; Mizuki's story reflects real life experiences that trans women like her have to live through.

[mirlumae]

hi! I was curious as to what the context for your most recent A-Listers Danny Phantom art post was about. I was a little confused (even though it looks AMAZING) and was wondering if you could give me your yaps about the context of that scene! :D

So so so sorry for how late this reply is! I've been insanely dead on social media for the past however long. 

Thank you so much! To be honest, I didn't really set anything in stone for what exactly was happening in this scene. My thought process was just wanting to do something angsty about the A-listers since I thought they were kinda underutilized and had a lot of potential in the secret identity/double life aspect of the show (my absolute favorite part of superheroes that I think has unfortunately declined in usage as of late).

There's also something so deliciously juicy about those who worshipped and relied heavily on their protector now having to protect him, and something so cathartic about the bullies having to fear their victim when the power dynamic switches. You can just hear them thinking, "What's going on? Is he possessed/overshadowed? What is he going to do when he finds us?" Maybe even apologizing to him in their heads for every wrong they've ever inflicted on him in the hopes that Danny would take mercy on them.

So yeah, I don't really have an explanation for what's happening. Could be a shapeshifter, or something similar to what Poindexter did, or maybe that dreamcatcher. Maybe its a Corpse AU and some other ghost took over his body while he was out of it. I do think the intrigue is in not knowing exactly what's going on, so you're in the headspace of the characters, so that's what I'll leave you with. I do really like the implication though of this situation absolutely eviscerating Danny's social life and standing after it's all over to the point where people are scared of his human persona now; very angsty.

I do hope to make more A-lister content in the future someday, since I think they're so interesting from the secret identity/double life standpoint. There's just so much content there like, for example, them being weirdly unnerved by these spooky little quirks that the wimp seems to unknowingly exhibit, them finding some things about the ghost boy familiar and yet not being able to put a finger on why, Danny finding out more about his bullies from the perspective of someone whom they are willing to be vulnerable with, etc., all of course underscored by the tension of the "will they won't they" find out.

[galedekarios]

The people going "it's not a big deal" confuse me. What other character gets shit on by everyone unwarranted and unprompted? What other character is told to not be themselves, because that would be terrible advice for them specifically? None of the devs or writers say that Astarion should be handed over to the Gur hunter and killed by them because as a vampire he's a monster anyway and this way it's a good end and he won't hurt anyone anymore. Lae'zel is brutal and aggressive, but instead of going "haha yeah isn't that so annoying, boo 👎" the devs defend her and say that audiences would not be saying that if she was a man instead. Shadowheart always has something to say, too, about Shar and Selune, and other things, but they don't call her annoying about her religion. Astarion can feed on PC and give you a negative buff, but that's fine. Gale needs a trivial color spray trinket, one of only three(!!) trinkets, and god he's just the worst. And that isn't even the end of it, that's just where I'm choosing to stop this already long message. After a certain point, if the ONLY place where Gale doesn't get shit on is when you're talking to him directly and choosing the nice options, then yeah I feel like there's a problem behind the scenes there. Especially when his story is about forgiveness, belief that you're enough, allowing yourself to love and be loved again, accepting and asking for help, and learning that you deserve to live, but the devs say that an ending where all of that is thrown away and even after telling him that he's enough you still have him sacrifice himself is good... then it's like what would have to happen for people to realize that Gale is treated differently than the rest? And what do they have to say for others to realize that they're going against their anti-suicide message? Because I don't get it. Is the world going to end? No. But that doesn't mean this isn't weird and hurtful. Escaping the cycle of abuse and becoming better is great is the basis of their game, unless your name is Gale.

i really have nothing to add here.

[kittygawa--jr]

:/

[lususnatura]

blamore having to wear things like back-less shirts / lower - cut tops and just items of clothing that will allow him SOME sort of free range of movement for his tail in general + will actually not constrict his rib cage may just make him a fashion icon y'all... sorry, i don't make the rules ( nah i'm just joking around with you guys LOL... mostly )

[banished-away]

Sees a take that makes it blatantly clear that a person hasn't interacted with the fantasy genre beyond the SparkNotes version of lotr

[mekatrio]

its so unfortunate that kagepro has some of the most beautiful and touching plotlines ever bc this is still the same series where hibiya is a deranged stalker and shintaro's porn habits are constantly joked about and kano has a fucking sister complex and also just soooo much casual misogyny be it comments abt a female character's weight or relationship status or whatever and its just =_=

[frogs-in3-hills]

every day i thank furuba for understanding that yuki is such an interesting character not just because of his journey in healing from his trauma from being abused by the family cult, but because he is deeply immature and stuck in his own head and v reliant on ideals of toxic masculinity. ultimately he had so much personal shit to worry about that him saying he sees tohru as a mom perfectly encapsulates the way he needed her as a supporter but also still puts her on a pedestal due to that aforementioned toxic masculinity. and while he doesn’t fully deal with that (or his kind of fucked gender feelings in general) he does realize that he can’t just suck up her support forever and so his growth is in part facilitated by his moving away from her comfort rather than clinging to her like a scared kid. just. man. love him. guy who confidently gives terrible advice and comes away from it so pleased with how he’s grown as a person. guy who is genuinely very kind but hasn’t gotten super good at the empathy thing yet. guy who is probably nonbinary but he’s trying to get out. of the fucking cult. so he doesn’t really care about that rn

[ms-demeanor]

How to avoid sharing Social Media Scams in the Wake of a Disaster

The world is full of disasters. It is also full of people who have learned to profit off of disaster. It is an unfortunate fact of life in the modern social media/online environment that in order to avoid spreading scams, you have to make a continuous effort and you have to be cynical.

There are a lot of wonderful, well-meaning people in the world who want to help everyone who asks for it. Unfortunately, those people are easy to scam.

These are some rules to prevent you from either falling victim to scams or from passing scams along to other people.

These are not suggestions, these are not things to take into consideration, the rules listed here are RULES that you need to adopt in order to keep from spreading scams on social media.

Rules:

Never, ever share screenshots of fundraisers or resources that you haven’t verified yourself. If you see a screenshot of, say, the Antelope Valley Fairgrounds Instagram announcing that they will be accepting evacuees with RVs, you go find the Antelope Valley Fairgrounds website, you find the social media linked on their website, and you check that the post you’re seeing actually came from the entity it’s claiming to. Once you have proved that the post actually came from the entity it’s claiming to, double check that entity with a couple of verifiable sources. So, for instance, if I was checking on the Guitar Center Music Foundation I’d check Guitar Center’s website and maybe I’d look for news articles about donations from the foundation. If I was looking up the Antelope Valley Fairgrounds, I’d look for a local newspaper calendar of events that linked to the fairgrounds or would check the city websites in the area and search “fairgrounds” on them. I would not share a link to a social media page for an organization until I was 100% certain that it was actually associated with the organization. You shouldn’t either. If you see a post that claims to come from a specific group but all you have is the screenshot of the post, go find the group’s website and if it all checks out you may share it IF AND ONLY IF you add the link to the post. And if a post has a link already, click through it and STILL check that everything looks okay.

Never give money or information to someone with a free email address. This sucks. I know. But if the group you’re looking at only has a gmail address or a protonmail you have no way of knowing if they’re legitimately associated with the organization at a glance. And even if they ARE associated with the organization, the free email account demonstrates a lack of planning/commitment that has troubling implications for the handling of your money or data.

Do not share screenshots of “resources,” headlines, social media posts, or news articles. I’m done with screenshots. Screenshots are easy to fake and almost always remove context from the discussion. A standalone screenshot isn’t information, it’s a trap to get you to share something without thinking. Do not *trust* screenshots of “resources,” headlines, social media posts, or news articles. Always assume a screenshot is faked unless you have found the original post yourself. A screenshot isn’t a “resource” it is an un-source, it is intentionally removing information from the viewer and we are well past the time when people should have understood that sharing screenshots without a link to the original text in context is never, every trustworthy.

Do not give money or information to accounts without a history. This may mean individual social media accounts, or it may mean a shiny new mutual aid project that popped up near your house. It’s unfortunate that people have their accounts deleted, it’s unfortunate that new orgs have trouble finding support, but the likelihood that a new account is a scam is simply too high to trust your money or information with it. If someone is asking for money or offering help on an account that hasn’t posted for years, or that suddenly changed all its content, or that has only existed for a month with no links to other, older sites and socials, you shouldn’t trust that account.

Okay, those are the RULES. Those are the lines you draw in the sand. The TL;DR version is this:

Don’t share posts you haven’t personally verified

Don’t give money or information to accounts with generic email accounts like gmail

Don’t share or trust screenshots that have no links or further context

Don’t give info or money to brand new accounts

I absolve you of any guilt you have surrounding this. You want to share that post to help a stranger but they have only had an account for a week. You want to spread that resource, but unfortunately it is only available as screenshots of an anonymous instagram account. You think that perhaps that mutual aid group really can help people, but the only way contact them is to put your info into a google form and send an email to their gmail account. That post seems really helpful, but actually you can’t find anything that suggests that the Mt. Pacifico Aquatic Center exists outside of this twitter account. No more guilt! Guilt be gone! You do not have to feel bad for not sharing these things, or not reaching out, or not giving money because doing so would be irresponsible and would put other people at risk of being tricked by scammers or wasting what money they can donate on a potential fraud.

Now, some tips:

Always, always, always take at least ten minutes to think about giving someone money or your information online. Read the post that moved you, then re-read it, then go sit away from it for ten minutes and think about it. There’s a good chance you will still want to give, or sign up, but ten minutes away will give you a chance to consider if there are any red flags in the post that inspired you.

Independently search everything you’re going to share. Go outside of social platforms and check on search engines. Check Wikipedia. Look up the website and send a while clicking around. Go on a *different* social media platform and check their account.

Just straight up search “[SUBJECT] Scam” before you do anything. See if this thing you’re looking at is actually an old scam that’s revamped for a new disaster. See if you can find an explanation of how something might be a scam or risk in a way that you didn’t understand before.

Get used to getting away from social media. Go check websites.

Learn domain name syntax. “musicfoundationguit.arcenter.com” is a bullshit scam. “guitarcenterfounditaon.org” is a bullshit scam. “guitarcenter-foundation.org” is a bullshit scam. The actual domain is “guitarcenterfoundation.org” and the link to the correct page isn’t going to be “guitarcenter.foundationfires.org” it’s going to be “guitarcenterfoundation.org/fires”  

Tips for Orgs:

If you do not want your org to look like a scam you are going to have to put some effort into it. Unfortunately this will probably also require at least a little bit of money; I know it’s hard to get money together at the beginning, but it will pay off in the long run.

Invest in a domain and hosted email. You can get relatively inexpensive hosted email through most domain registrars and even if you only get one email address for your domain you can forward it to all the free gmail and protonmail accounts you want. But buy a domain, set up a simple website, and get an  info@[yourdomain].com email set up because you don’t want people emailing “MyOrgInfo@gmail.com” because it’s super fucking easy for a 1337 hax0r like me to set up “YourOrgTeam@gmail.com” and scam the people who want to reach out to you.

Make a blog on your actual website, not on a social media site. A blog means that you can make regular posts and establish a history to prove that you are real and you do real stuff; it will also help with SEO and help to ensure that when people search for your org YOU are what comes up. Keeping up calendars of previous activities with links to those activities is also good.

Set up social handles on all the sites you use, make a “socials” page on your website, and link to your handles so that people can verify if you’re the one posting something. If you don’t make it extremely easy to find your socials, that means it’s extremely easy to set up fake accounts claiming to be you. Then put the link to your website in the bio on your socials.

If you are offering something or holding a fundraiser or doing anything on your social media page, link it back to your website. If you have an IG post offering resources, you should include a url for your site in each image. If you share a photo on twitter with the info for a march, that should link back to your website with more info about the march. If you post a fundraiser on tumblr you need to link the fundraising page of your website on that post.

If you absolutely positively cannot set up a website and a real-ass email address, set up a linktree, choose a primary social media to post on that all the others refer back to, and very explicitly state what your email address is and that you do not have other email addresses somewhere that's difficult to miss. Build a history of posts and link to other orgs that you work with or any writeups or stories about your events or projects. The point of all of this is making yourself easy to verify. "northfullertonfnb@gmail.com" sucks but it sucks a lot less if it's in the bio of "@northfulltertonfnb" and that page has a two year history of posting meal share schedules and menus.

In conclusion, don't share things that you haven't personally checked. When in doubt, it is always safer not to share.

[esote-rika]

𝐈𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐦 | 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐑𝐞𝐢𝐝

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!Reader Category: Smut 18+ MDNI Summary: You have several (stereotypical) assumptions about your nerdy coworker; he proves how wrong you are about them. Content: 3.2k, early season dom!Spencer Reid, bratty reader, reader has hair that can be put in a ponytail, brat taming, BDSM dynamics, sensation play (feather tickler hehe), reader is ticklish, spanking, making out, thigh riding, coworkers hooking up (are we even fucking surprised), hopefully still soft and sweet and hot. a/n: Listen I know I keep saying I’m taking a break but unfortunately I’m ovulating HARD; this is the last one for May, but there will be a part 2, I’m already planning it. I wrote this completely piss drunk (my friends can probably share screenshots as proof oops) and then sobered up enough to edit (might have missed some stuff). Based on a request that Tumblr ate 😭 but basically, BAU reader teases Spencer about sex only to find out he's a kinky BDSM dom. Hope u enjoy!

“What would you know about BDSM?” The question, spoken with a carefree laugh and just a hint of condescension, is directed at your coworker, who is currently stirring copious amounts of sugar into his coffee beside you. 

Dressed in a tweed blazer that overwhelms his slight frame, Spencer Reid only tilts his head to the side, honey eyes keen and flashing with something you can’t quite place. You lean against the counter in the pantry, intrigued by his response. You’d expected a blush, chin tipping down, hair falling over his pretty eyes, lips uttering bashful, stuttering words. 

Not… this. Regarding you with a frank, unblinking calm that has you shifting in place.

“Oh, right,” you roll your eyes teasingly, unwilling to let him see how easily his nonplussed reaction has fractured your easygoing facade, “You’ve read about it extensively, haven’t you? What do psychology textbooks have to say about whips and blindfolds, Dr. Reid?”

“Quite a lot,” he replies with a serenity that unnerves, “Some attribute it to the feeling of being safely back inside the womb.”

You scoff, “Right, because thinking of your mother during bondage is so sexy.”

“But,” he presses on, narrowing his eyes at you, patient but warning, “There’s often explanations that go hand in hand with biology. Deprivation of one sense tends to heighten the other. Physical restriction offers the same feeling, which then leads to altered states of pleasure. In a more emotional sense, surrendering your power to a partner communicates the highest level of trust, offering a deeper sense of intimacy for some people.”

So he does know a lot about it. Still, you don’t drop your teasing grin as you reply, “God, how do you manage to make BDSM sound so clinical?”

“Because it is a little clinical, if I’m just explaining it in polite conversation. The communication is better enjoyed if the actions match.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm hmm,” he smiles, dimples flashing, a show of innocence. A mask. 

“And this information is from experience?” you tease.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

His tone carries implication and it settles upon your stomach, heavy and warm. That makes you perk up, but you fight the urge to show your intrigue. Instead, you scoff, “As if there’s anything to know.”

He’s quiet. Sipping at his coffee, honey eyes twinkling over the rim of his mug. It’s infuriating.

“No way.” you huff, finally breaking. The lightness of teasing leaves your voice, shifting to something darker, more accusatory, “You expect me to believe you have experience? In BDSM?” 

“Announce it to the entire office, why don’t you?”

You pause, looking at him almost in betrayal. Really, how could you not? Spencer Reid, who looks like his nose would start bleeding from the slightest sexual attention from a living, breathing person, has BDSM experience? The man who wears sweater vests and slicks his hair back like he’s a seventy year old librarian? You survey him today, in all of his rumpled, mismatched glory, trying to find one hint of his apparent favored pastimes.

He looks almost smug as he meets your gaze, cocking his head to the side.

“No way.” you repeat.

“You possess an awfully limited vocabulary for today.” 

“Shut up, stop pulling my leg,” your eyes narrow suspiciously, still in disbelief. 

“I’m not pulling your leg,” he says, allowing a small, almost imperceptible smirk to curve up his lips for one split second, before his face gets hidden by the coffee cup again.

“Prove it, then.” 

The words startle both of you, but you’re stubborn enough to see it through. Meeting his gaze with a confidence that would seem sincere to the untrained eye, but Spencer has worked with you long enough to know it’s all bravado. 

He looks at you, unsure. “Prove it?”

“Look who's vocabulary is limited now.”

He scoffs and lowers his voice, “I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I know what I’m getting into, I’m a grown woman, thanks.” 

“Then I’ll fax you a copy of my rules. If they still seem like something you’d want to try out, come to my apartment Saturday night—that is, if we aren’t called in for a case.”

You shrug, the perfect picture of nonchalance. “Great, sounds like a plan. Don’t forget to fax.” You both know he wouldn’t.

By some universal twist of fate, that Saturday is devoid of any last minute cases. You spend the whole morning poring over the sixteen-page document that Spencer had sent over on Friday, reading through the risks—a lot of which you already know from your own research—his specific set of rules, and what he’d normally allow for a beginner. You don’t have the same perfect memory he does, but you’re sure you’ve memorized everything by the time you knock at his apartment.

“So you came,” he says, offering you a cool glass of lemonade, looking perfectly at ease as he leads you into his bedroom. 

“Of course,” you say, looking around as you sip on the drink, taking it all in, “I was serious when I said prove it.” It’s dim, but nothing else is inside that rouses suspicion. It looks completely normal—a neat bed, a messy desk, haphazard piles of books—until your eyes land on the items on the dresser. 

Silk ties. A paddle. Something that looks similar to a feather duster, but you assume it’s made with a different activity in mind. Your cheeks are aflame.

“You know the safe word?”

“Yes. Jupiter—you’re such a nerd, by the way.”

He laughs, taking you half finished glass and setting it down. “Do you have any objections to the terms I’d laid out? Additions?”

“I just need you to make a promise.”

“For what?”

“That this stays between us.” You face him, searching his eyes for any deceit. It’s always a risk, being a woman and engaging in anything that could be considered deviant, especially in an environment like the BAU, which is honestly a glorified boy’s club.

“You have my word. Everything that we do stays in this room.” he vows, stepping closer.

“And,” you bite your lip, “No sex, right?”

He shakes his head, “None. We’ll focus on sensations tonight, just to let you get a feel for things.”

It seems more intimate, just trusting him to tease and play with your body, but you’re glad that the boundary is set in place. Spencer seems to have gotten a lot of experience at this, and briefly, you wonder just how many other people has been in your place.

You push the thought away and smile at him. “Okay. Then that’s all on my end. I accept all your terms, and I remember the safe word.”

He hums, turning you around. Standing so closely behind you, his heat warms your back like a gentle fire. Long, elegant fingers that carry the lingering musk of old books and coffee gather your hair into a ponytail at the base of your neck. He secures it with a thin elastic, before leaning in, breath whispering goosebumps into your skin. 

“Strip.”

There’s a sudden loss of heat as he steps back. You’re surprised to miss it, already, but even more surprised by his command. “What?”

“I said strip, angel.” he says, walking to your front with an expectant look on his face, “Down to your underwear.”

You sputter, looking up at him incredulously, but his face is serious. Patient, but serious.

“Do you need your safe word?”

You don’t reply, realizing that it’s begun and this is exactly what you agreed to do. To submit to him and his commands. The weight of this reality sinks in, rendering you mute and frozen, and he immediately softens. 

Hands cupping your cheeks, Spencer looks at you with concern, “Hey, we can stop.”

“No,” you reply, forcefully. Stubborn pride pulsing through your veins—no way you’re stopping before you’ve even done anything, “I don’t want to stop, it’s okay. I just—okay. Strip.” you step back, nodding and muttering to yourself, “Okay, yes, I can do that.” Looking down, you fumble at the buttons of your blouse, undoing them with clumsy, unsure fingers.

He steps back to the dresser, retrieving the bundle of feathers, never averting his gaze. Wide brown eyes take you in as you lose your shirt, and then your pants, standing before him in matching lace underwear. A slow grin spreads over his lips, “You dressed up for me?”

You feel your cheeks burn, “No.”

“So you just wear expensive lace sets for no reason, even on Saturdays?”

“You don’t know what I like.”

A step closer, “I’m about to,” he says in a low, smug tone that has your breath catching, “Stay still.”

Stay still. Easy enough. Your eyes follow his movements, the way he brandishes the feathers in his hands. Your head cranes back as he circles you, and he tuts in disapproval.

“I said stay still,” he murmurs, hand cupping your jaw and adjusting your head forward.

“But—”

“But?” 

“Nothing.” you squeak as you look ahead again. Your heart makes itself known, drumming in an exaggerated, hurried way that makes you want to shift. But Spencer said stay still, so you do.

A small part of you wants to scoff—why are you following Spencer Reid’s orders? This is ridiculous. Say the safe word and this would all be over. He’d never mention it to anyone else, like you both agreed earlier. You can get out, and you know for a fact that Spencer wouldn’t judge or protest.

But you don’t.

Because a larger, more significant part of you finds this whole thing incredibly hot.

Several seconds pass. Agonizingly slow. He’s drawing it out, you realize, testing how long he can get you to stay still. Or maybe he left. No, he wouldn’t—couldn’t, you’d hear his footsteps.  Finally giving in, you look over your shoulder, brows knitted in confusion.

You’re met with a disapproving look and a shaking head. “Didn’t I tell you to stay still?”

“You’re taking too long,” you pout.

“That’s the second time you’ve disobeyed me, angel,” he tuts. The heat of his body envelops you as he steps into your space again, his chest pressing to your back. A hand skims over your side, warm and firm as it finds the swell of your hip, and sits there. A warning. “You know what’s going to happen when you do it thrice, don’t you?”

Your mind flashes back to the conversation and the list, the rules he laid out so painstakingly for you. Thoughtful and attentive, Spencer had made you read through pages of what he expects from this dynamic, the rules you must follow as his submissive, the punishment that will be enforced should you disobey.

Three strikes and you get spanked.

“I do,” your words drift out the most delicate breath, heart hammering even more now. “I remember.”

He hums when you are finally still. Lips land on your bare shoulder, chaste and warm, while his hand travels up your side, featherlight and teasing. They skim up your ribcage and you can’t help but gasp, fighting every cell in your body to keep from moving. Your compliance is rewarded by another satisfied hum, and then finally it touches you. 

The feather. 

Crawling up the back of your left thigh, soft as a whisper. 

Ticklish.

“Fuck,” you gasp, jerking away from his grasp in surprise. You find yourself missing the feel of his hand on your waist before you realize your mistake. 

“That’s the third.” he says, shaking his head.

“I wasn’t expecting it on my thigh!” you snap, suddenly feeling so exposed. To shield yourself, your arms cross over your shoulder defensively, voice lowering by way of apology, “I’m ticklish!”

He considers it for a moment, sitting on the edge of the bed, but his eyes remain trained on you. Gauging your reaction, the same way he’d talk to a skittish witness. You find yourself shifting again, unused to being on the receiving end of such a stare. When he speaks, his voice is calm, as if he’s soothing a ruffled creature, “You’re welcome to say your safe word.” 

The easy way out. But you’ve already gone this far, stripped out of your so-called armor, down to your lace underwear and allowed him to regard you in ways far too intimate for coworkers. It would be such a waste to back out now. Besides, he said the punishment would just be spanking, how bad could that be?

“No,” you reply finally, voice breaking through the silence that settled and swelled in the room, “No, I’m okay, I’ll—I’ll take the punishment, like I agreed to.”

He sits up straighter, “Are you sure?”

A gulp. “Yes.”

He pats his lap, “Come here then.”

You’ve lost count of how many times you felt warmth at your cheeks, but this feels like a wildfire has started now, smoothing over your face before spreading all over your body in an all consuming blaze. Flashes of those kinky magazines and news articles you’d rolled your eyes over flit through your mind, the models now replaced by the image of you and Spencer. He’s asking you to bend over on his lap to receive your punishment.

With a nod, you join him on the bed, your torso draping horizontally over his lap. Your legs are laid on the bed, and you hold yourself up by your elbows. From this position, he has perfect access to your ass, a large hand smoothing over one cheek. 

You squirm, “Your hand’s cold.” 

He laughs, “God, you never stop complaining, huh? I should add another one just for that.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.”

He sighs, “I know. You’re doing fine, all things considered. I’ll just do three, okay? For every time you moved.”

“Okay.”

“I want you to count.”

You inhale so sharply you almost choke on nothing. That had no business being as hot as you found it. His hand is on your ass again, and you have to dig into your brain to focus and answer, “Okay.”

The first strike comes quickly, a sharp sting followed by a cool, gentle hand soothing over it. You exhale a gasp along with the word, “One.”

“Good girl.”

Jesus Christ.

Another smack, this time on the other cheek. “Two… three.”

It’s over before you know it, barely even lasting three minutes, but it’s still managed to take your every breath away. You find yourself wishing he had added another strike, just so you could feel the sharp sting again. 

“Are you okay?” his voice pulls you from your reverie, hands helping you sit back up beside him, “Do you need a break? I could get you some lotion—”

You tune him out, staring as he offers different ways to soothe the stinging. His hands keep making lazy strokes up and down your arms, eyes completely focused on you. Words are flying past his lips, attempting to reach you through this haze, solutions and probably another reminder of your safe word, but all you can think about is how close he is, how pretty with his earnest brown eyes and pouty lips, but also how hot and since when was Spencer Reid hot? 

A familiar sensation settles low in your belly, slickness between your thighs, and oh my god you just want to kiss him.

So you do.

His lips are soft, pausing mid sentence for just one moment, before he’s kissing you right back, open mouthed and desperate, his hand cradling the back of your head, tilting it up so his tongue can dive deeper into your mouth. You moan, kissing him back with just as much fervor, scrambling forward in an attempt to get even closer. He tastes like mint and cinnamon, the oddest combination that has you sucking on his bottom lip, eager for more.

An arm wraps around your waist, and you find yourself on his lap again—no, on his thigh. Singular, straddling it with nothing but a tiny scrap of lace and his trousers in between your skin. Two degrees of separation. You moan again, biting down hard.

“Wait,” he pulls back, breathless, thrown off, “Wait this isn’t part of the agreement.”

You laugh, “I’m sorry, I don’t really care about it right now.”

Soft brown locks tickle your jaw as he ducks his head. Lips run over your collar, moist and gentle as he speaks, “I wasn’t really prepared for this. I don’t have a condom.”

“Oh.” you seem to deflate in his arms, despite the incessant pounding in your chest, the buzzing at your fingertips.

He looks up, surveys you like a puzzle to be solved. On his thigh, with barely anything on, practically throwing yourself at him. Muscle flexes and shifts beneath you, eliciting a gasp from your lips. It moves again, just as his hands hold onto your hips and keep you in place. 

Your lips fall open, “Oh.” you repeat, but this time, it’s a low, breathy moan. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, watching you with a small smirk, “Move those hips for me, angel.”

You don’t need to be told twice, pressing down hard onto his thigh. The pressure gives your clit enough stimulation, pulling another moan from your lips. Louder this time. Loud and pretty, as his hands keep you steady, and your arms wrap around his shoulder, fingers finding the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Oh god,” you gasp, staring right at him, at those intense hazel eyes that have turned nearly black. You ride his thigh shamelessly, finding a rhythm that you know will have the pleasure snapping within minutes. Paired with Spencer’s praise, the sweet kisses he’s laying on your jaw, you find yourself trembling in his arms as you rub yourself along his muscular thigh. 

All of the anticipation seems to have built up to a fever pitch, his teasing, the spanking, it all floods back until your orgasm hits you like lightning. Razor sharp, every nerve of your body seems to sing and tremble from pleasure as Spencer keeps his thigh gently moving, helping you come down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, burying your face into his neck. 

He laughs, wrapping his arms tightly around you, “Are you okay?”

“Better than okay.”

Slender fingers card through the back of your head, tangles into your hair, “You did really well. We went a little off script, but it seems like you found it pleasurable, which is always the goal.”

Pleasurable is the understatement of the century, but your only response is a breathless chuckle. At the moment, that’s all you’re capable of. 

“Okay,” you whisper into his neck, losing all ability to extricate yourself from him. He doesn’t seem to mind though, his hold on you just as tight, free hand rubbing warm circles over your bare back. “Okay, you’ve proved your point. You seriously are a dom.”

“Mhm.”

“I can’t believe it.”

“What? You can’t believe it? I literally just gave you one of the most hands on demonstrations anyone could ask for.” he says with a laugh. It rumbles through his chest, and the feeling makes something in your stomach clench pleasantly. 

You lift your head, finally meeting his gaze. Your eyes flash with mischief when you reply, “I don’t know, I might need another one to fully understand it.”

He smiles back, wide and catlike, “Well then, I think that calls for an encore.”

Thank you for reading!!! also if you could give me some encouragement for my thesis that’d be much appreciated i’d give you so much brain kisses MUAH.

[tamingicarus]

punctuation in poetry deserves its own subclass

[star--stilinski]

wow, you're so fucked.

stiles is standing next to you, a sweaty beacon of pride as he chats with scott and isaac excitedly, his lacrosse uniform still on and not making things any easier for you.

he had just played a game and won. something unusual for him, clear in the way he seems to glow a bit at the attention he's receiving. you can admit that he did better than his regular performances, which often included him sitting idly by on the bench. but you really don't need to deal with this. rambling, hyper focused stiles is one thing.

sweaty, cocky stiles is another.

he laughs at something danny says-oh, danny's here? you didn't even notice him approach, too distracted with the way stiles' hair sticks to his forehead. anyway, his laugh might make you swoon. jesus, are you ovulating? there's a wet patch forming in your panties and you know it. whore.

"oh, yes! we will so be there!" stiles slings an arm over your shoulder and grins at danny. you can smell his sweat, now, and unfortunately stiles' musk only makes you want to ride his dick even more.

"be where?" you blink, turning a curious gaze on stiles, who looks at you all confused and cute and his lips are so pink and his skin glistens with sweat and i bet the rest of him does, too-

"are you okay?" he hums, squeezing you against his side just slightly. you nod and turn to danny to avoid moaning at the sight of stiles' adams apple.

"sorry, i was zoned out."

danny looks like he's disappointed in you. because of-fucking-course danny māhealani can tell that you're this close to giving stiles a blowjob in front of the entire student body. just because he's sweaty and excited and prideful. you glare at danny, just to shut him up.

he talks anyway.

"some of us were gonna go grab food to celebrate, and i was just inviting you guys. unless you'll be... busy." danny drawls his last words with clear implication, but stiles is too busy being excited that he got invited to something by the "in" crowd to notice.

"and i told him we were going." stiles grins down at you, raising his eyebrows in anticipation. you avoid his eyes, tilting your head.

"i dunno..." you pick at your nails, and stiles is quick to stop you. a habit you both have and you're both trying to quit. "it's kinda late, and we have that essay-"

"oh, come on, don't tell me you're passing this up for homework." stiles tosses his head back dramatically and you hear danny snicker. you know if you look at danny again, you'll want to throttle him. but looking at stiles means looking at his moles and freckles, his jawline, his brow.

you swallow thickly.

"yeah, okay, shut up. i was gonna say yes." you fold so quick that stiles actually steps back from you in shock, and you avoid grabbing him by the jersey to keep his scent all over you.

danny smirks at you, nodding once. "see you guys there. try not to fog up the windows on the way."

stiles waves as danny leaves, and you're pretty confident he didn't even hear that last part because of how focused he is on being overdramatic about you saying yes to him so easily. his eyes are wide and his mouth is open when you turn to look at him, and he let's out a squeaky surprised noise.

"what-you always argue about this stuff! did you have some moment of discovery?!" he grabs both your shoulders and you fight a smile, shrugging him off. you can't just tell the boy, 'oh, it's a whole lot harder to say no to you when all i can think about is how far i would go to get you in my pants.'

right?

you settle for an easy half-truth. "just didn't wanna dampen your good mood. you're practically bouncing off the bleachers right now."

when you look back at stiles, he has that stupid crooked smile cocked all smartly at you. feeling bold, he gives your hip a light squeeze and hums, "atta girl."

yeah, you are so incredibly fucked.

☆

this is my most popular from the vault!! it's also one of the first things i published here. stay tuned for more vault releases and an upcoming thomas fic :D

this anon made me giggle so here's a snippet of pt. 2 (its a joke dont get your hopes up)

[overdramaticbaddie]

Boutta rant abt my blorbo sooo spoiler warning for new Deltarune chaptersss

So.

Berdly.

We got almost NOTHING about him from the new chapters, but I think he deserves to be discussed in light of the new information.

First things first, I don't think enough people talk about the obvious parallels between him and Susie.

Both have spent a lot of time antagonizing Kris, Both sided with the "Villian" in the dark world, and used it to fulfill various fantasies of theirs (susie getting to beat up everyone there, berdly trynna build "smarttopia" or whatever) Both experienced significant character development in the dark world (unfortunately, berdly immediately backtracked as soon as he "woke up") Both cope with feelings of inadequacy by lashing out at others and trying to make themselves seem "bigger" and "cooler" than they actually are (Susie through physical intimidation and Berdly through manipulation and self-aggrandizing behavior) Both have strangely protective tendancies???? Both feel like side characters in their own story. Both are unpopular with peers and authority figures Not to mention, their weapons are EXTREMELY SIMILAR WTF

And also, something I find really interesting,

Neither of them are a part of "the three heroes" of the prophecy.

LONG-ASS PROPHECY INTERPRETATION TANGENT THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH BERDLY:

The part of the prophecy where the three "heroes" are mentioned, when put in order, reads as follows:

"The first hero. The cage, with human soul and parts.

The second hero, the girl with hope crossed on her heart.

The third hero, the prince, alone in deepest dark.

And last ,was the girl. At last, was the girl."

While it may seem that Susie would be the second hero, especially with how she is associated with hope in chapter 4, the image that goes with that line appears to be a girl in robes, holding a sword (possibly the sword made from the thorn ring) implies noelle may have actually been the one intended to be the second hero.

The way the image of the girl holding the sword is also used with "love finds the girl", with some of these images including a small SOUL in the chest of the girl pictured. This correlates to how, in the weird route, we seem to have implanted a piece of our SOUL, and thus our control, into her. As well as the implications of "love" finding her, suggesting that the second hero will have violence thrust upon her, which happens to Noelle in the weird route.

That, plus the fact that Kris wanted to be partnered with noelle in the group project, that Susie only ended up in the dark world by pure coincidence, further suggests that Noelle was the second hero intended by the prophecy.

Also, the image that goes with the "At last was the girl" line, looks exactly like "Rude Buster", one of Susie's attacks, which she uses to defeat the titan along with Gerson at the end of chapter 4.

LONG-ASS PROPHECY INTERPRETATION TANGENT THAT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH BERDLY IS OVER, NOW I WILL CONTINUE TO TALK ABT THE PROPHECY JUST WITH BERDLY NOW

Now that that's out of the way, I wanna talk about how the prophecy deals with Berdly, which I find FASCINATING.

If you're confused because you don't remember seeing anything at all relating to Berdly in the prophecy in Chapter 4, you're 100% right on the FUCKING MONEY.

He's

NOT

FUCKING

IN THERE

He's never mentioned ONCE, despite the prophecy discussing many characters and events that go beyond the main "three heroes" thing,

whether it's King's defeat, Queen's "chariots", Tenna being sliced up, Lancer saying Toothpaste boy, Asgore in asylum, fuckign JOCKINGTON GROWING A BEARD, the prophecy is littered with references to things that happen all over previous chapters.

But, the thing is, NONE of those things would have been changed if Berdly wasn't in the game.

As far as the prophecy is concerned,

Berdly doesn't exist.

This wouldn't seem too important if it weren't for the fact that he is DIRECTLY INVOLVED in the ONLY game-changing decision SO FAR.

Without him, there is no weird route.

Sure, you can choose to cancel it several times afterward, but the thing is, that's the only time you shift the route of the game. After that, you can only either double down or backtrack, not forge any new paths.

It's strange that someone who functions as the marker between to distinct paths wouldn't be mentioned in the prophecy.

So, here's a little theory of mine:

I think Berdly's the big sleeper character in Deltarune.

Think about it,

out of the main 5, (the lighteners and ralsei,) he's the one we know LEAST about. Sure, they all have mysteries attached to them, but that's part of the reason they're THERE.

Berdly so far has nothing going for him storywise besides him being an annoying fuckwad who gets his shit absolutely wrecked in the weird route.

I genuinely don't believe Toby Fox would make such a unique character who fits the themes of the game perfectly just to eat shit in an alternative route and be forgotten.

I think players are SUPPOSSED to forget him, SUPPOSED to just be like ugh it's that fuckin bird that I hate and move on.

ESPECIALLY since he gets so little screentime in the new chapters, I think Toby is lulling us into a false sense of berdly-less security, letting us think he's served his purpose in the plot.

(and Ik this is probably hard to believe, since if ur reading this ur probably in the corner of the fandom that LOVES berdly, but most Deltarune players do tend to totally dismiss him)

I think Tony Forks is gonna hit us with a berdly-shaped truck in SPECIFICALLY chapter 5, since the weird route only affects ONE THING in the light world outside of Kris and Noelle's sanity.

Berdly being at the festival.

ISTG SOMETHING'S GONNA HAPPEN WITH HIM

but yea, berdly is 100% a sleeper in the plot.

Also kerdly is canon.

[jabberwockypie]

So @lynati is out of town today and tomorrow, working, but she has been living her best life and embracing her desire to be surrounded by toy Breyer horses for the first time in 25 years, and is really just having a great time with it.

Unfortunately, a particular horsie, Hot Cocoa, who she had REALLY wanted sold out last week before she had a chance to get her. She thought she had more time, because some of the previous years' horsies are still in stock from past years.

Horf!

So Hot Cocoa was sold out, and she was very sad, and there were ZERO OF THEM anywhere else on the internet - this one was sold only through the Breyer website, and nobody had listed any on Ebay or Mercari. We set up some saved searches to try to get her later if she came up, probably at a terrible mark-up, but what else can you do?

Anyway, Lynati got a different, extra-fancy horse in the mail yesterday, and he's a very pretty boy with blues and golds and purples.

Lynati didn't have any others in this mold, but she brought him upstairs to show me yesterday when she got him in the mail, and I agreed as this was a very pretty horse and flipped him over because I was admiring how pretty the blue-fading-to-purple effect is, and I go "WOW. My god, they put a lot of effort into sculpting this horse's junk."

The fact this sculptor clearly spent hours and hours on this horse model, including what had to be rather a lot of time on the individual veining on the Horse Dick* is truly kind of impressive, but I also find it extremely funny in contrast with how pearl-clutchy some American Girl doll collectors get about even the implication that people may have had sex or might be naked at some point, ever. (There are a whole bunch of people get weird about the fact dolls like Kaya and Felicity don't come with underpants - because they wouldn't have worn them. In the 18th century. And, let me be clear, their bodies are just tube-shaped stuffed cloth with no anatomical detail whatsoever.)

*Lynati will I'm sure correct me that that is the "sheath" and testicles, but I am not a horse person and I am therefore comfortable referring to it as the horse's dick.

So today, I was relating to my friend @lylilorden my amusement at the contrast between American Girl doll people and the Breyer people with their lovingly-sculpted super-detailed Horse Genitals.

(Quoth Lyli, "and the breyer folks just. "these are ANIMALS and they FUCK"". Yes. Yes they are.)

And I'm looking for a picture of the Special Fancy Horse to show her, and then suddenly, at the bottom of the page on the Breyer website, where I see this:

HOT COCOA IN STOCK, MOTHERFUCKERS

So I call Lynati in a tizzy because this is clearly a Horf-Collecting Emergency, and the horf is now on the way to our house. The day is saved! And I wouldn't have been on the Breyer website if I hadn't been talking to Lyli about the other horse's magnificent . . . endowments.

✨ It's a Christmas miracle! By the power of lovingly-sculpted horse cock. ✨

And now, at the bottom of this post - so people can read the rest of the post and skip it if you want - I have gone downstairs to take a picture of Courcheval's junk, so you can all see what I'm talking about here. (Content warning: plastic toy horse genitalia)

[manikas-whims]

Love and Deepspace men's reactions when they hear a little kid say he'll marry you when he grows up 🥺

ZAYNE

❄️ “In that case, we're rivals now.”

❄️ Pats the kid's head, encourages the challenge and shakes his hand in the name of healthy sportsmanship.

❄️ He will initiate mini challenges with the kid— lets see who can bring more flowers for you, who can make you laugh first..if the kid has evol Zayne even challenges the kid, saying lets see who can make a better gift for you using their evol..You'd laugh and enjoy all the love and attention.

❄️ He will also instill good habits in the kid. “You won't grow up if you don't eat green veggies. And if you don't grow up, kid, then how will you marry her?”

❄️ It’s all good because deep down Zayne’s heart will always belong to you, and he knows that you will always be his.

XAVIER

⭐ To Xavier, it's adorable that the kid wants to marry you. It's only natural. Who wouldn't want to marry someone as kind, strong, loving and protective as you?

⭐ But he will also subtly assert himself and let down the kid. He'll sneak a hand around your waist and pull you closer, making sure the kid is watching as he does so.

⭐ “She’ll already be taken by the time you grow up.” He'd state, causing your cheeks to heat up at the implications.

⭐ He'll also reassure the kid by saying that the kid might find someone truly meant for him by the time he's at that age.. someone who would be a lot like you but unique in their own way, and would love the kid..just as you and Xavier love each other.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Probably rolls his eyes and acts unbothered cause..PFFFFT! It won't happen. And that's cause he.. he will..cause he will marry— ahhh! even the thought of it makes him blush.

🌊 But then he'll notice you giving a lot of attention to this kid. You'll rub the kid's head, calling him adorable and peck his cheek for anything nice he does. And Rafayel would feel the green-eyed monster rearing its ugly head. He'd be very jealous..of a kid at that!

🌊 “I’m also nice, aren't I?” Rafayel would point at himself. You won't understand the sudden question but nod anyways to sate his ego. Unfortunately, that won't be enough. He'll ask you to rub his head as well cause if the kid gets your affection, then he deserves it too. You sigh but do rub his head too. You also find it ridiculous because..HE'S LITERALLY YOUR BOYFRIEND AND YOU BOTH LOVE EACH OTHER.

SEND ME REQUESTS FOR LOVE & DEEPSPACE HEADCANONS VIA ASKS.

» MASTERLIST «

[reobsessed]

Unfamiliar Waters

Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words. Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair. Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!

You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.

“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.

“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”

“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”

“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”

“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”

You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.

He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”

“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”

His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said. 

“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”

Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.

“Then allow me.” You smirked.

He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”

“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.

“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”

“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.

“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.

“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.

He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.” 

“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.

He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.

You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”

He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.” 

You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”

“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”

“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.

“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.” 

The same one you liked to use.

With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.

“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.

He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.

With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes. 

Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.

An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”

“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.

You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan. 

“That feels positively wonderful.”

“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences. 

His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss. 

“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.

There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life. 

Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.

“I do rather like that, you know…”

“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.

“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up. 

A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.

“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.

“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”

You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily. 

A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.