#length: headcanons

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Overindulgent father Astarion who tells his children they’re allergic to any kind of jewellery that isn’t made of the highest grade Dwarven crafted gold. 

It’s not even because Astarion might have a certain aversion to silver, no, he just raises his children to have standards, thank you very much. 

And it doesn’t end with shiny things, oh no… 

The Ancunín brood is known to be dressed in perfectly woven cotton, silk and soft leather clothes, no matter the occasion.

They’re seen playing with expensive toys, reading artfully illustrated books that certainly belong behind thick glass, not in children’s sticky hands. 

There’s even talk that one of the children is not as naturally inclined to music as his parents claim him to be, surely his lyre must be enchanted—the instrument certainly looks extravagant enough! 

And then there’s always this air of effortless haughtiness surrounding the Ancunín children whenever their nannies and servants are parading them through town as if they were perfect little dolls; objects to show off the wealth their parents acquired in quite the mysterious ways. 

So, it’s no secret that Astarion and Tav are pampering their children—some might say they’re even spoiling them rotten. 

And maybe they are, especially Astarion.

But he doesn’t see why he should raise them any other way, nor does he want to.  

When it comes to his children, Astarion has his own standards, and as long as Tav agrees with him nothing really matters. 

Because, these people, they don’t know anything about the Ancuníns. 

They don’t know that it’s not unusual for Astarion to wash out dirt and mud and strawberry stains from comically small finery, leaving behind only the memories of a day spent playing in the garden, chasing after ducks, picking flowers, lazing in the sun…

That any holes and tears the children’s clothes might suffer are quickly mended, making them look as good as new in no time. 

Nor do they know that Astarion doesn’t mind fashioning a brand new dress to match that of a favourite doll, either. Or to embroider a pretty vest with the likeness of that stray cat the children seem to adore, although their father would rather they don’t touch the mangy animal. 

No, those people know nothing at all...

“Not tired!” Astarion’s youngest cries; the vehement denial of her father’s earlier accusation is cut short by a telltale yawn.

The room still smells of fragrant lavender oil and peaches even when the bath water has already grown tepid, just one or two degrees above what Astarion would consider too cold to be enjoyable. 

Amused, he raises an eyebrow at the protesting toddler before he lifts her out of the copper bathtub with little effort. 

By now, he knows every step of this game.

“Tut-tut, my dear child, what did mama and I say?” Astarion kneels, quickly wrapping a soft towel around the child to keep her warm. “We only tell lies outside of this house.”

Unfazed by her father’s gentle scolding, the girl crosses her arms that haven’t yet lost their puppy fat across her chest, reminding Astarion a little too much of a very displeased Tav. 

Suppressing a sigh, he leans back to consider the pouting child, wondering what could possibly be upsetting her this time—the list is growing longer by the day, after all. 

“What’s the matter, dear?” Astarion asks gently, hoping it’s something easily fixable as it’s growing rather late. 

“Want apple!”

Decades ago, Astarion might’ve rolled his eyes—he knows exactly which stupid apple the child wants, it’s been haunting him all day—but once he started to treat his children’s problems as if they were his own, his life has grown somewhat easier. 

“Why, let’s get an apple on our way to bed, then. Would that be alright, Your Highness?” 

The girl promptly nods her head, allowing Astarion to pat her hair dry before dressing her in a clean night dress. 

She rests her cheek against her father’s shoulder as he carries her first to the kitchen to grab a fragrant apple and a knife, then to her bedroom where they settle on the cosy window seat, just like they do every night.

Soft moonlight is pouring through the windows; the child giggles at the way the knife’s blade is catching the silver light as Astarion peels and cuts the apple into even pieces.

“Here you go,” he finally says, giving the slice of apple one last examining look before surrendering it to the impatient little hands reaching for it. “A sweet treat for my little sweet. Doesn’t it taste so much better when we don’t eat it off the floor, darling?” And when it’s not crawling with ants…

The appeased toddler nibbles at the juicy fruit as Astarion carefully combs through her still-damp curls. 

Her hair’s getting long, he notices, knowing that taking care of it will become more time-consuming each day. 

Once, Astarion would’ve thought this task tedious, brushing out hair that’s not his own, oiling and braiding it for no other reason than knowing his children enjoy him doing it. 

But that’s why he loves doing it in the first place, he supposes.

Astarion can tell by his toddler’s heartbeat that sleep is about to claim her. 

The half-eaten slice of apple is still clutched in her little fist as he cradles the child to his chest, slowly rising from the window seat to put her to bed. 

He’s just about to lay the child down that the fruit drops to the floor, his daughter’s tiny hand clutching at his shirt instead.

“Thank you, papa,” she mumbles, more asleep than awake.

Astarion pauses.

He breathes in the clean, yet unique scent of the little girl that is forever engraved in his brain, the same way he knows under which exact constellation she was born. When she took her first steps, what her first word was. Soon, he will have to memorise her favourite colour, and what she likes to eat when dirty apples won’t be that appealing anymore. 

By now, Astarion knows this game by heart, knows that with every year that passes, he has something new to learn about his children.

And sometimes he wonders what it’s like to grow up with clean bed sheets and full bellies. Sleep filled with naught but warmth and happy memories. Ever open doors and tears that are dried by tender kisses. Living in a house where mistakes and anger are welcomed, safe. 

He wonders what it’s like for his children to know that their father’s love comes without conditions. Not now and not ever. 

Sitting down on the bed, Astarion holds his youngest a little closer to his chest, unwilling to let go of her, yet. 

He’s often accused of spoiling his children when most people can only just grasp the very surface of his love for them, the bare minimum of what he feels for his one and only, precious family. 

These baseless accusations are as unimportant to Astarion as the people voicing them.

He’s raising his children to have standards, wants them to take their father’s love for granted, to accept nothing less but pure devotion.

It’s the only way Astarion knows how to love them, the only way that comes most naturally to him. 

Astarion looks down at his little girl, now fast asleep, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. 

After all these years—all these children—he’s still in awe watching them sleep in his arms as if no harm in the world could ever befall them.

And it won’t—not if Astarion can help it. 

“No, thank you, my heart,” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the crown of the toddler’s head. 

When it comes to his children, Astarion holds himself to the highest standard.

[starrystevie]

eddie knows his crush on steve harrington is a hopeless cause, okay?

he's somehow been friends with steve long enough to know what he looks like when he's flirting, what he looks like when he has a crush, when his sights are set on someone very non-eddie munson shaped. he also now knows how to hide his jealousy in a fake smirk that he flashes steve's way when yet another pretty girl walks their way with her sights set on him and a smirk of her own.

eddie always watches as steve reaches out a hand just so to gently brush it against a lovely lady's arm with that charming fucking smile and sees how that lovely lady will always melt at the touch. and who could blame her? certainly not eddie, the same eddie who's had his own sights set on steve harrington for what feels like a life time. if anyone knows how painfully a heart can beat when it sees him from across the room and imagines a date and a future and a life with steve, it would be eddie.

but that's where it ends. steve harrington, the ladies man that he is, always stops things there with a smile and a wave thrown in the woman's direction as she walks away. it throws eddie for a loop every time. he would watch the two flirt for minutes that that felt like torturous hours for him only for it to end with a disappointed look on her face and steve turning his attention back to eddie like nothing had happened.

it makes no sense.

"i don't get it, man," he says one day as steve lets yet another girl walk away down to the opposite end of the grocery store aisle they're in. steve's turned back to staring at the shopping list in his hand and is muttering to himself instead of watching her walk away like eddie is, disbelief coloring his face.

"don't get what?" steve asks back, not bothering to look up until the silence goes on for too long. his eyes land on eddie's and he frowns slightly, shaking his head slowly. "... did i miss something?"

eddie reels back, eyebrows furrowing together and motions his arms every which way, from the girl's retreating form to the empty space around them.

"steve, you're just going to let her walk away and not get her number? she was obviously hitting on you, dude."

he watches as steve's face crinkles slightly before smoothing out and shrugs his shoulders, turning back to grab the cat food eddie feeds to the strays off the shelf. he lurches forward and places his hands on steve's shoulders to face him, watching as his eyes go wide.

"what do you want me to say?" steve shrugs again and eddie can feel the movement under his hands. "i guess i wasn't feeling it."

eddie sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face before returning it back to steve's shoulder. "wasn't feeling it... steve, i'm gay, not blind. you two obviously were hitting it off with your fucking charming lines and flirty eyes. you always do this and it makes zero fucking sense-"

"-you're gay?"

steve says a bit too loud for eddie's liking even if they are currently hidden in the pet food aisle. heat floods his cheeks and he throws a hand cover steve's mouth while shushing him to keep him from saying it again. he sees steve's eyes go even wider and feels warmth spreading under his fingers.

is steve...

"you knew this!" eddie accuses in a whisper and tries to breathe evenly while steve's gaze travels all over his face. "we talked about it with robin that one time!"

... is he blushing?

there's a sudden pressure at his side and he looks down to see steve's fingers curling over his waist. eddie takes in a stuttering breath and brings his own wide eyes up to meet steve's. it's like looking in a fun house mirror, seeing his flush creeping up steve's neck and watching steve blink in time with him. he can feel when steve tries to say something, his lips ghosting over his palm and eddie pulls back like he's been burned, but steve's hand stays right where it is on his side.

"i absolutely would have remembered if you told me that before," he says and his voice is a little breathless. "there's no way i was there when you guys talked about it."

eddie thinks back to the party when he and robin were huddled up on their couch together. argyle and nancy were dancing in their socks on the living room floor, bouncing around to some experimental track that had been badly recorded on a cassette. jonathan was sitting at the coffee table snapping photos of them, joint hanging from his lips and easy smile spreading on his face.

eddie's trying to pinpoint where steve is in this memory and that's usually the easiest thing for him to remember, but he can't...

until suddenly he can, because steve walked in through the sliding door with his shirt over his shoulder and his swim trunks low on his hips and water dripping down his chest and a cigarette behind his ear and the sunset bleeding in through the windows was painting him golden and he was walking over to dance with nancy with a wide grin pulling at his cheeks and-

"god, i'm gay," eddie had breathed out. robin followed his line of sight and nodded because she gets it like she has a steve problem of her own and that was that.

eddie focuses back in on steve while they stand in the fucking pet food aisle, focuses on the shrill jingle pouring out of the grocery store speakers and not on the way he can hear his heartbeat in his ears, focuses on the way steve can look good even in harsh fluorescent lights.

"well, now you know," is all he can breath out.

steve smiles, all white teeth and crinkled eyes, and his fingers curl even tighter around eddie's waist as he takes a half step even further into his personal space.

"you're why," steve says back easily and eddie reminds himself to breathe as the other side of his waist suddenly has a hand covering it, too. "i don't take their numbers, i don't give them mine, i don't go on the stupid dates they ask me out on because..."

the fingers dance up his side and eddie can't breathe.

"... they're not you, so why would i?"

eddie sends up a silent thank you to whoever is listening that they're hidden away from prying eyes in the pet food aisle so he can lean it and learn for the first time what steve's smile tastes like.

[seredelgi]

How do they take compliments, then?/ AOT x fem!reader

featuring: Eren Jaeger, Armin Arlert, Jean Kirstein, Connie Springer, Reiner Braun, Erwin Smith, Levi Ackerman

tw: kissing, groping, sex, implied/referenced sex, mature content, smut, 18 +

Eren doesn’t even need to be complimented, honestly. He’s way too confident for his own good. It’s enough for him to catch you staring a bit too fondly at him as he brushes his teeth in front of the bathroom mirror, shirtless once again. His hair is in a messy bun, his saliva trailing down his chin and dripping on his chest, so close to his nipples that you can’t help but stare in awe. He smirks at you from his reflection when he’s done, making you snap out of it. You’re left to flush shyly and look away before you can embarrass yourself any further.

Armin never expects it. And to be fair, it usually comes out of the blue, for example as he’s talking about something he’s very excited for, and his beautiful blue eyes sparkle ever so fleetingly. You can’t help but sigh ecstatically before breathing out “ You’re so damn handsome”. He stops mid-sentence and meets your gaze before smiling timidly, his cheeks reddening a little. He shrugs it off and keeps talking, but you can see the shift in his demeanor after, a bit more confident and cheerier than usual.

You can’t help but compliment Jean every time he dresses up for one of your many nights out. He’s just so vain, and he spends hours in front of the mirror brushing his hair and attending to every fold of his outfit, making sure they’re all straightened up. You roll your eyes from the other room, thinking you’re probably the only girl who has to wait so long for her boyfriend to get ready for dinner. But as soon as he’s finished, you can’t help but grin proudly at the sight of him. He sure is a catch, and he’s all yours. “ You look amazing” you say, and you’d think him happy to take the compliment, having spent endless hours making you wait for him, but he’s too distracted by how good you look instead, so he has to pull you in for a swooning kiss before answering “ You're stunning, darling”.

Connie doesn’t care for any type of looks-related compliment. It’s the ones you utter quietly during sex that really count to him. Those are sincere, he knows. They’re mewled closely to his ear and are just what he needs to spur him on. One time you’ve let yourself absentmindedly slip some gibberish about how strong he was and how much stamina he had. That had to have been one of the longest sessions you two have had to this day. The man just couldn’t stop pounding into you restlessly, chuckling proudly at any of the sounds you made, burying his face down the curve of your neck to bite you through so many highs that you honestly just lost count.

Reiner loves it when you compliment him. It doesn’t have to be about his looks, he’ll take anything you give him, honestly. And it comes so naturally to you, especially when he’s just about the best boyfriend you could’ve hoped for. So you do it often, and you love to whisper it in his ear while he’s occupied with something. Doesn’t matter what’s in his hands at that moment, he’ll drop it, reaching out to grab you by the waist and pull you into him, giving you the most passionate kiss, the kind that sends shivers running up your spine and leaves you craving more. But of course, he’ll have you patiently waiting for him to be done with whatever it is he’s fixing up in your apartment this time around before he grants you that.

Erwin finds your compliments endearing, but mostly they're just the perfect excuse for him to give them back, parroting whatever it is you’re praising about him this time around. It’s basically the best way for you to get a confidence boost whenever you need it, and it gives you the occasion to return the favor for all the adulations he usually spontaneously reserves you. He likes the compliments fine, he just finds other things way more amusing and sincere: the way you’re constantly looking for his touch for example, or how you offer to give him massages whenever you’re horny, and the way you always ask for his help with every type of problem you have. He likes to be your safe place.

Levi hates compliments, he usually shuts them down from everyone else. You’ve learned this about him very soon and so you’re not very keen on giving him any, but there’s a special time of the month you just can’t help it. You’re way too sensitive to care when you’re ovulating, so much more needy than usual. You can’t help kissing his neck while on top of him on the couch, and his hands come to rest on your hips before you quietly whisper it on his skin “ You smell so good”. He grunts and pulls you back, finding you flushed, big languid eyes staring into his dark slits. “ Don’t do that” he simply states. “ Do what?” you smile cheekily “ Tell you that you’re hot?” you lean back into his space, trailing your tongue silently up the pulsing vein on his neck, and you shiver at the breathy hum he lets go when you do. “ I mean it, y/n” he warns you, but his voice is so broken by the emerging of arousal that you can’t take him seriously. “ No fair” you pout, and he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. “ Why can’t I tell you how much I like you?”. He sighs and kisses you, his tongue flicking past your lips, and he groans heartily in your mouth as you rut into him. When he breaks away his breaths ghost on your flushed cheeks, and you cling to his shoulders, already demanding him back against you “ ‘Cause it makes me wanna fuck you raw, kitten”.

How do they take you?

What names do they like being called in bed?

What's their love language?

Do they get jealous?

What gets them going?

So what about the way they kiss you?

And what pet names do they use the most?

[lavendersixer]

my mystery trio AU headcanon (Fiddlestan):

- Fiddleford finds out one day that Stanford has a twin brother, and was like "how have I known you since uni and you never once mentioned this" (Ford probably got drunk and blurted it out).

- Fidds also finds out about the whole "Stanley is estranged after being kicked out by our father" bit.

- Fidds really values family and he's kinda torn up with guilt that he left his wife and newborn to be here in the first place. He persuades Ford to invite Stan to Gravity Falls so they can make up (family therapy by proxy).

- Ford is aroace and Fidds is VERY repressed homosexual. The teeny tiny crush Fidds had on him died out in college because Ford doesn't want him like that.

- But when Fidds sees Stan.... wow. It's everything about Ford he was attracted to but BETTER. He's completely enamored. He's also taking the "am i gay" quiz STAT.

- Stan sees Fidds and practically has a cartoon AWOOGA moment. He's smitten at first sight, will do absolutely anything for this damn engineer.

- Stan is very open about his sexuality because in his mind, he has a lot more to worry about than who he fucks.

- Stanley wants to make amends with Ford because he never truly hated him, not really, and he knows it was mostly their father's fault anyway for favoring Ford.

- Stanley originally thinks Fidds and Ford are together just by the fact that they're grown men who moved in together. He thinks the whole "lab partner" title is an elaborate cover up for what's really going on. (It was the 80s.)

- And he's honestly a bit jealous, something something about Ford always being preferred over him. (He's very mentally ill okay...)

- "Oh no darling, Ford and I aren't like that"/"🙂"/"Between you and me, I reckon he doesn't have those types of feelings for anyone..."/"😄"/"Besides, I got my wife and kid at home"/"🤯🤯🤯😨😨☹️☹️"

(sorry guys i can't type in a southern accent)

- Fidds calls people pet names casually, makes Stan melt inside and also throw up.

- Fidds gets a letter from his wife serving divorce papers

- Stanley outside: ☹️☹️☹️ Stanley inside: 🤩🎉😍

- When they finally open up about their big fat crushes on each other Stanley is just so overwhelmed because for once in his life. HE is the first choice and not his brother.

- And during all of this Ford is off having a queer platonic situationship with a triangle

[finelinens1994]

can i offer you a drawing of drarry cuddling in this trying time?

[lovelyhan]

— 505 ⟢

i'd probably still adore you with your hands around my neck; or i did, last time i checked.

★ FEATURING; joshua x afab!reader

★ WORD COUNT; 3.4k words

★ TAGS; coworkers au, friends with benefits, typical gentleman in the streets sexual deviant in the sheets joshua, a hint of pining if you squint, slight angst?, smut (MINORS DNI)

★ NOTES; this specific picture of shua is years old but it incited the most visceral reaction out of me anyway so here we are with another short oneshot that sidetracked me from the monster that i'm SUPPOSED to be writing :| this also turned out a bit more emotional(?) than i originally intended, so heads up on that i guess

★ SMUT TAGS; unprotected sex, shower sex, oral (f receiving), choking, slight dumbification (i'm sorry, i normally have more dignity than this but i miss him so so dearly)

★ PERMANENT TAGLIST; @cheolhub - @pretty-trustme - @just-here-to-read-01 - @idkmelkro - @dejavernon - @venusrae - @jyiiscool - @jiniesclub - @junhui-recs - @bldelaine - @featmia - @fruitzcup - @hoeforhao - @candidupped - @billboard-singer - @caratochan - @novalpha - @dahliatopia - @0717luv - @shiveringgaze - @toruro - @mixling-blog - @minnie-mouser22 - @homerunhansol - @mirtaspace - @ti-red - @zzucculent - @woozarts - @rubyreduji - @mozellerra - @lllucere - @cheolzip - @jjjzzzz - @lissiesykes - @jeonride - @meowmeowminnie - @colored-confetti - @partiallyinfluencial - @speaknowlwt - @flwrshwa - @lilylikesthat - @aurorahongg - @whippedforjihoon - @todorokiskitten - @immabecreepin

★ JOSHUA TAGLIST; @yoonzinoooo - @scandal-in-bohemia - @lunaryoongie

Joshua arrives five minutes after the first clap of thunder and ten minutes after the rain started pouring outside.

You hear him before you see him. The automatic lock of the hotel room turns as he scans the spare keycard from outside — one that you made sure to leave with the receptionist in the lobby when he told you he'll be running a little late. When the door swings open, light spills from outside and he greets you with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle and your heart stutter.

It's the same look that makes your female coworkers swoon and giggle to themselves in the office pantry — talk about Joshua's adorable eye smile never straying too far from your ears.

If they knew what kind of person he was past the usual pleasantries, would they still engage in that kind of fanfare?

Joshua is soaked all over when he enters, having tracked rainwater all over the carpeted hallway and into the floor of Room 505. He doesn't seem all too fazed by it though — quickly shrugging off his coat before hanging it behind the flimsy plastic hooks screwed to the back of the door. He shuts it behind him with a kick, sighing through his teeth as he loosens the coil of a sushi-patterned necktie around his collar.

You got that one for him as an exchange gift for last year's Christmas party. Joshua uses it a lot more frequently than you expected him to. In fact, he always wears it during casual Fridays. You're not sure if he actually likes the stupid necktie or he's just trying to get a reaction out of you, but his choice to wear it isn't lost on you either way.

"Team dinners are really something else," Joshua chuckles as he tosses the flimsy material atop the complimentary dining table. He cards his fingers through his damp hair and you try not to think of how good he looks as he does it.

"You should've come with us. It's not often that you see Manager Yoon convince Jihoon to down a shot of soju. Oh, Seungkwan also got his ass handed to him at karaoke with the girls from sales. I had no idea Jihyo could hold her high notes like she means business."

You don't take a bite at his feeble attempt at small talk. He knows damn well why you don't show up to any of Jeonghan's team dinners, but you tell yourself that Joshua's just being polite — still thinking of the outcast of the marketing department despite the fact that you do not want anything to do with the people you work with.

...Although there are some exceptions here and there.

"Really? You're just going to give me the silent treatment all night?" Joshua sighs dramatically as he unbuttons his dress shirt — baring his rain-beaded chest to your unwitting gaze. "Well, if you need a bit more time, I'll go hop in the shower first. You're free to join me if you'd like."

He knows you won't, so you find it strange that he offers each and every time anyway.

You let your gaze wander to the full length mirror attached to the cabinets once the door to the bathroom clicks shut. There's nothing remotely special about your getup tonight. You're still donned in your work clothes — brick gray pencil skirt with a brick gray blazer to match. Apart from the heels sitting on the rack near the door, you're pretty much still in uniform.

You had half the mind to go home and change when Joshua said he's going to dinner and karaoke with your boss and some other colleagues, but that would mean you actually cared about what you looked like in front of him.

Which, for the record, you don't.

You can hear Joshua singing a familiar song in the bathroom — one that he always belts out in the most annoying way possible every time he showers. You wonder if he even knows any other song apart from that, but tell yourself you don't really have any business asking.

As the near-silence persists, however, your thoughts start to wander. Did he also sing this song when he was at karaoke earlier? Did he get to duet the high notes with Jihyo? You wouldn't put it past either of them to do so — being two of the company's renowned social butterflies.

That train of thought brings forth the same question you've been asking ever since the first night you shared this hotel room with Joshua and found him still lying beside you in the morning:

Why'd he choose you?

You're an in by nine and out by five unless there's paid overtime kind of employee. You never bothered establishing any worthwhile friendships in the workspace because you know better than to trust the backstabbing fiends in the corporate ladder. You're perfectly aware of what other people say about your individualistic behavior — how you're the worst team player in your department — but you never really cared.

Not until Joshua Hong inserted himself into your life.

To put it in the easiest way possible, he's the epitome of a perfect coworker. He's the guy that greets you every morning with an charming smile. The guy who drops by your cubicle to give you a coffee he made himself before saying you're doing a great job with that report you're putting together. The guy that everyone just adores simply because he's always been likable from the get-go.

That's the kind of person Joshua is — the exact opposite of you. Surely the jury won't condemn you for always questioning how you wound up spending your Friday nights fucking the man your entire department is basically in love with when you're so unlovable yourself.

Every time you try to recall how your transactional relationship with the company's unofficial sweetheart happened in the first place, your brain simply refuses to cooperate — memories muddled by a few pints of beer too many and an eye-crinkling smile that you're better off not rationalizing.

Besides, it's not like Joshua kisses and tells. Whatever happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505, and that's one of the many reasons why you haven't deigned to walk away from the setup altogether.

You meet up, he makes you feel good — makes you feel wanted — he cycles through whatever aftercare you might need, you fall a little more in love with him, then you both decide if you want to sleep in for a couple more hours or —

Wait.

Did you just admit you're in love with him?

"Hm? Didn't think you'd actually hop in with me today."

Joshua's voice is clearly laced with amusement as you shut the door to the bathroom — cheeks hot with both the steam billowing from the shower and the embarrassment cloying in your chest. You had the foresight to take off your uniform at least, leaving you in an unassuming set of cotton underwear that makes Joshua lick his lips with anticipation.

You make a show of stripping the rest of your clothing before him — nothing but the glass door to the shower separating the both of you. It's nothing sensual, nothing grandiose. You simply take off everything that's keeping your body hidden from your nighttime lover's hungry eyes.

When you step into the warm drizzle of the showerhead, Joshua hums before reaching for a bottle of shampoo — squeezing just the right amount into his palm as he lathers the product into your scalp.

The gentleness weighted into his actions startles you a little — not having expected him to do something so...domestic. You came in here with the full intention of getting fucked against the bathroom wall, but the way he massages your scalp so tenderly makes you reconsider your course of action.

But no matter how much of a gentleman he acts around you, not even Joshua can do anything about his own body's physiological reactions.

You feel the length of his cock nestled against your ass, hips rocking back and forth as he stimulates himself into full hardness. A soft moan tumbles out of your lips when he squeezes some of the hotel-provided body wash all over your chest — large hands lathering the soap across your body all while paying special attention to your tits.

"You finally snapped out of it, sweetheart?" Joshua sighs before latching his mouth onto the thrum of your pulse, biting down for only a moment to get your attention. "Ready to take my cock like a good girl?"

The way he murmurs those last few words along the column of your throat makes your legs feel like they'll disintegrate at any moment. Joshua continues to murmur sweet nothings into your ear, helping you clean up properly first before actually trying anything.

You're not sure if you should be pissed off or endeared by his stalling, but by the time he's finally rinsed out all the suds from your heated bodies, you're more or less ripe for the taking.

"Brace your palms against the wall, pretty girl. Yeah, just like that." Joshua chuckles softly as he presses a kiss to your nape, lips traveling down the length of your spine until he's eye-level with your sopping cunt.

"God, I'll never get tired of looking at this pretty pussy. Been thinking about sinking my cock into you all fucking week," he practically growls. "You really knew what you were doing with that cute maroon skirt you wore the other day, weren't you? The one that kept riding up your thighs when you reached for something from the high shelves? Little fucking minx."

You mewl helplessly when you feel Joshua's tongue prodding your soaked folds — forcing you to press your cheek against the cold tile as he massages your ass gingerly.

Joshua does his best to keep you anchored, making sure you won't accidentally slip as he laves at the slick between your thighs. He has no problem doing just that — driving you to near insanity with how his tongue sucks and slurps at your cunt like it's the first meal he's had in days.

"S-Shua," you whimper pathetically, pushing your ass out for more friction. "You're eating me so good..."

Had you not been so quickly drowned in this haze of arousal, you would've exercised more restraint. Joshua normally has a hard time getting you to be more vocal whenever he makes you feel good, but you suppose that there's just something in the air tonight that makes it so easy to just surrender yourself to him.

You can feel the vibrations of his laughter along the millions of nerve endings on your clit as he traces it with the tip of his tongue — further incapacitating you from coherent thought. When he slips in a finger into your awaiting heat, you all but gasp into the steamy air of the hotel bathroom.

"You're so cute when you start calling me that," he coos without halting his ministrations — that sinful tongue darting out to tease and lick and stimulate as he eases in another thick finger into your gummy walls. "Wanna eat you out underneath your desk someday... Would you act as cute as you're acting right now if I did that?"

The prospect of having sweet, gentlemanly Joshua Hong on his knees for you under your work desk makes you tighten conspicuously around his fingers. From the sordid chuckle that leaves his lips, you're fairly certain that he's noticed.

"You like that, huh? You like it when I put my mouth on you? Make you feel so good, you forget about everything else?" he chuckles darkly, rising back to his full height without taking his fingers out of your needy cunt. "But we both know this is hardly enough for you, right sweetheart?"

You hate how he knows you so well.

Joshua spends about one minute max towel drying both of your bodies before he quite literally sweeps you off your feet. You let out a surprised shriek as he princess-carries you onto the bed — gently laying you on the undisturbed sheets before crawling on top of you like a predator circling its next meal.

"Wanna tell me why you were so out of it earlier?" Joshua murmurs as he nips at your jaw, the words followed by a crackle of thunder in the distance. He chuckles when you jolt in surprise before peppering your face with a collection of kisses that ends at the tip of your nose. "It's not the weather, is it? I remember that I literally fucked you in the middle of a storm last month."

"Quit running your mouth and just fuck me," you mumble, lacing your fingers around his nape before grinding up against his leaking cock. "I've waited for you long enough."

"Ahhh," he drawls with resounding epiphany, as if he'd just figured out some ancient secret. "So you were sulking because I took too long to get here? Don't worry, sweet thing, it won't happen again."

When Joshua leans close to your ear, his hot breath fans against your flesh — making your toes curl with quiet anticipation.

"The next time we meet in this room, I'll have you mounted on my cock the moment you come through the door."

Joshua doesn't bother with foreplay or any sort of preamble. He simply guides his cock into the give of your entrance, sinking his length so deep, you can feel him in your stomach.

"Fuck," you whimper, fingernails seeking purchase across the rippling muscles of Joshua's back. He doesn't quite move yet — letting you get used to the stretch like he always does.

"Pretty pussy's so fucking tight around me," he groans. "Did you need me this badly? 'm sorry for making you wait so long, sweetheart. If I had known, I would've ditched karaoke and made you feel good as soon as I could."

Empty words uttered in the throes of passion — you're well aware that's all they are. Yet Joshua has no trouble making your heart flutter with the sentiment anyway.

"J-Joshua," you manage to gasp as you feel his girth throb inside you. "Please move... Need it. Need it so bad, please."

You're on the brink of tears with how desperate you are for mind-numbing release, but amidst your mounting delirium, Joshua sighs a little too endearingly before pressing a long, hard kiss on your lips.

"Anything for you, pretty girl."

He eases himself into you slowly at first — making sure you feel every ridge of his cock dragging along your tight walls. Joshua particularly feels smug when your eyes roll to the back of your head, addicted to the way his cock is splitting you open.

It's only when you start to loosen up that he picks up the pace, strong hands gripping your thighs as he pounds into you. The squelch of your arousal echoes within the walls secluding you from the rest of the world.

When Joshua hoists your hips higher before hooking the back of your knees across his shoulders, you knew it was all over for you.

Admittedly, you don't remember the first time you've had sex with him anymore. Or the second. Or the third. You've had each other so many times in so many ways that every instance kind of just blends into the next — painting a messy caricature of all the illicit meetings you've had with your nighttime lover.

But you don't care if it's messy. You don't care if it's strange. At the end of the day, you're comforted by the fact that all these experiences you shared with him are irrevocably yours.

Even if you can't really say the same for Joshua himself.

He stirs the pot of your arousal with practiced ease. Joshua stares at you like you're the most precious thing he's laid eyes on before letting one of your legs fall back on the mattress.

Your lover trades the depth of his thrusts for enough leeway to flatten his thick fingers across your throat — making you bleat with expectation as he presses down just enough to make you feel lightheaded. He hisses when he feels your velvet walls clamp tighter around his cock, further informing him that he's on the right track.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly — his gorgeous face the only thing you can see. "You'll let me do anything to you, won't you? All I gotta do is fuck you stupid and you'll take everything I give."

At this point, you're too far gone to even deny a word he says. "Mmmm... Your cock feels too good, Shua. 'M so close already. You'll finish inside me, won't you? Make both of us feel good?"

"Dumb little princess couldn't even answer my question," Joshua chuckles before making a particularly harsh thrust that jostles you further up the mattress. "Of course I'll finish inside this pretty pussy. It's all mine, isn't it?"

"Uh-huh," you mewl as Joshua's fingers tighten around your throat again, making your toes curl with unadulterated glee. "My pussy's all yours, Joshua. All fucking yours."

He chuckles again, fingers climbing up to your jaw until Joshua is able to prod his thumb against your bottom lip. You respond in earnest, suckling at the digit as he rails you into the mattress. There's no longer any room for intelligible thoughts — lost in the sea of pleasure that Joshua choose to drown you in every time you come together like this.

"Close, close, close," you practically sob, thighs winding around his hips as you bring him impossibly closer to you. "Shua, I'm gonna cum. Please, I need to cum. I need you—"

"You already have me, sweetheart," he laughs breathlessly yet full of intent that you're too fucked out to notice.

"You'll always have me."

That's what does you in. That's what always does you in — his sweet words, his tender gaze.

As much as the pleasure he gives with each drive of his cock into your battered cunt sends you to cloud nine, nothing makes you fall apart harder than the thought that maybe Joshua Hong is capable of loving you back.

Because how can he stare at you with so much adoration in his eyes if he doesn't actually love you at all? How can he keep meeting you like this in secret if there's no hidden agenda behind it?

But when all's said and done, you come back to your senses. Your rose-tinted gaze fades back into the darkness of Room 505.

Joshua is still beaming at you like you're the only person that matters to him on this entire earth. But you know damn well that he'd never smile at you the same way once you're out of the four corners of this room.

That's just the way things are.

As you pick off your clothes from the floor of the bedroom and the bathroom alike, Joshua stirs from where he momentarily passed out on the mattress — bleary eyes observing your every move as his brows furrow together.

"You're leaving?" he murmurs sleepily. "But it's raining outside. We should stay until it stops at least."

Hesitating for a moment, you stare at the bundle of rumpled clothes in your arms as Joshua practically tells you to go back to bed.

You know it's for the best if you don't lay back down beside him. The distance keeps you grounded — anchored to the truth that beyond these weekly trysts you share together, you and Joshua are nothing but civil colleagues at most.

He isn't your lover. He isn't even your friend.

But a stubborn part of you believes that maybe if he breaks you apart and puts you back together again, you'll be a different person. Someone who can keep up with his outgoing lifestyle. Someone he'll have no problem showing off to his friends and fellow coworkers.

But, really, when have things ever turned up daisies when it comes to you and Joshua Hong?

"Fine," you mumble, dropping your clothes in a heap next to the sushi necktie that looks more worn out now that you're seeing it up close.

You make a mental note to buy him a few more once the Christmas sales start coming around again.

"You coming to cuddle before we sleep or what?"

Joshua stares at you sleepily and expectantly from the bed, even patting the vacant space between him for added effect. If only those girls swooning at him in the office pantry could see him now...

Too bad what happens in Room 505 stays in Room 505.

⟢ end notes: finished this at 3:05 am with zero proofreading dedicated to it <3 if you spot any mistakes, they're not really mistakes since they're all crucial contenders in the creation process <333

[oppysbabydoll]

hiiii!! Saw you do request and i was wondering if you could do mtmte drift x ratchet x reader? (Poly relationship your honor) iam so hungry for dratchet x reader content and theres only so lil crumbs in here, it made me sad 😭

(Depends on you if you wanna headcanons or fic, as long its dratchet x reader pls,, its okay if you don't wanna tho)

of course! i should’ve mentioned this on my introduction but im totally comfortable with polyam requests, as a polyamorous person myself! plus, dratchet is adorable <3 you have good taste anon

without further ado, have some dratchet

dratchet x human reader (sfw)

you’re the first human on the ship, so it’s natural for transformers to take interest in you. everyone was curious about the human. yet after the initial excitement faded away, bots like ratchet and drift still were curious about you

as the only organic, the medic was curious and worried to see how your body worked. what would happen if you got injured? what would he do then? and worst of all… what does that say about him, as a medic? if he can’t heal the crew then what good is he as a medic? so he does checkups repeatedly to better understand how your body function. while his initial reasons are based on his own insecurities… a genuine bond does form

you talk about your hobbies, your interests, whatever makes you happy as ratchet does his checkups because speaking from personal experience… doctor visits are not easy. while ratchet is initially annoyed by your rambles, your passion inspires him. and on cycles where he isn’t scheduled to check up on you… he finds himself missing your presence (he’d rather die than admit it though lol)

for drift… his reasons for becoming close to you r for redemption. as a former deception, he’s done some terrible things against those he deemed as inferior: humans being one of them. by befriending you… he can’t take away his past, but he can create a better future with you. and much like hot rod, you match his energy. unlike said mech, you try to understand his interests, like crystals and yoga

of course, you being involved in the equation doesn’t erase dratchet from happening—if anything, it only pushes them to happen sooner. when drift confides to you, you encourage him to talk to ratchet more, and wingman for him, hyping him in front of ratchet. and while ratchet is initially skeptical of even talking to drift since they’re so. Different they do become a thing

they become a thing and you think your job here is done. unbeknownst to you, these bots want you too! so they make their own moves! drift gives you as many compliments as possible that tether on the edge between platonic and something more. he ultimately confesses with a heartfelt gesture. maybe with all his crystals forming a heart. cheesy but endearingly sweet <3

ratchet isn’t as loud about his feelings but… he definitely is softer in his interactions with you. he gives you lots of soft looks when he thinks you aren’t looking. i can’t see him confessing unless it’s heat of the moment so i think you or drift would have to make the first move to suggest a polyamorous relationship. but between the three of you: resident protector, medic, and human of megarod’s ship, you’re a wonderful trio

[sallow-gaunt]

Headcanon

Sebastian is a good student. He’s bright, he’s charming, and it’s no wonder his teachers think he’s capable because his parents were both professors so it would make sense that he’s grown up well-read and educated.

But then Anne gets cursed before the end of their fourth year and stops attending Hogwarts - as his fourth year draws to a close, his grades begin to slip because he’s not paying attention in class, he starts breaking curfew because he’s staying up after hours to research cures, all he can think about is how to help his sister and it negatively impacts his studies. He puts on a facade in class, but his smiles are fake, and when he thinks no one is looking, he turns sullen. The only friend he spends much time with anymore is Ominis, and while their friendship is admirable, it’s a far cry from the boy who used to banter with everyone, the boy who always had something to say. The professors try to be understanding given his circumstances, but they’re all undeniably worried about him.

At the beginning of fifth year, this behaviour continues - but there’s something different, if only slightly. Hecat notices it first in the first DADA lesson of the year when he duels the new fifth year; despite the fact he loses this duel, she notices the way he grins at the new student, his boyish face bright in a way it hasn’t been since his sister was cursed. It’s nice to see him smile again, she thinks.

The next to notice it is Professor Weasley, when she comes to fetch him from detention with a “special task”; he looks surprised but relieved to be out of detention, and listens as she explains that she wants him to take the new fifth year to Hogsmeade for supplies. She doesn’t miss the way he beams ear to ear upon hearing that the fifth year asked for him specifically when encouraged to go with a friend, and as he goes to meet them in the entrance hall, there’s a sudden bounce to his step. It makes her smile to herself, pleased that he seems genuinely happy.

It doesn’t take long for all of the faculty to notice it, and it becomes a hot topic of conversation among them. Garlick insists that she keeps seeing him and the new fifth year laughing together on their way to Herbology, even on days they don’t work together; Sharp notes that while Sebastian still works with Ominis, he’s often seen at the potion station of the new student, the two of them talking in low teasing tones that suggest a friendly banter. Ronen disclosed that while the new student often chooses to sit with Natty or Poppy for Charms, he’s caught them and Sebastian looking at each other from across the classroom; everyone has a good chuckle when even Fig remarks that he’s often seen Sebastian waiting outside of his classroom when the new student leaves, as if the Slytherin boy has been waiting to see them. Many of the other teachers also recall seeing the two in each other’s presence around the school constantly, sharing sweets and talking.

They all agree that the presence of the new fifth year student is the cause of Sebastian’s uplifted mood, there’s no other explanation quite frankly. He’s not completely the same as he was before - he is still breaking curfew, still not focusing completely on his work, still seems sullen on most days - but when he’s around the new student, he’s definitely happier and more like his old self.

[lotte-s-web]

OH MY GOD I ACCIDENTALLY DELETED UR ASK 🫧ANON IM SO SORRY BUT PLS I KNOW I SAW IT😭😭 ur so right though about hobie having a thing for loser nerds its augh

₊✩‧ ❝hobie x loser!reader❞ headcanons ✩‧₊

₊˚⭑ warnings: nsfw, gn!reader, teasing, penetrative sex

He’s such a sucker for loser nerds, such a sucker for you. He’s addicted to the way the simplest of things get you riled up so easily, how he can do so little and watch it affect you so much.

He loves flustering you, loves teasing you by interrupting your rambling and asking you to repeat yourself, leaning in closer to “hear ya bett'r.” He just finds it so cute when you stutter over yourself, losing your train of thought ‘cause of how close his face is to yours. he loves the way you have to grip at yourself to keep your composure from faltering. He knows he’s being mean, he knows he’s being an ass, but god, he can’t help it that you’re so pretty when you’re a bit embarrassed.

He loves touching you, loves knowing how it ignites an uncomfortable warmth at your core that you desperately try to ignore. It’s never a big gesture either, just an arm draped around your shoulder, his knees knocking against yours. he pretends he doesn’t notice how your breath hitches, how your thighs rub together as you try to carry on with the conversation without thinking of the way his skin was brushing against yours. 

To both of your surprise, it’s you who makes the first move. It’d be a bold move on your part, but in reality, the teasing had just gotten too much for you to bear. you couldn’t go on like this anymore, your heart thumping wildly at having him brush against you lightly, having his breath tickle your ear whenever to confide in you what he thought of your outfit today. It was really the little things that had your chest feeling like it was about to burst, you couldn’t do it anymore.

He watches you stumble over yourself as you try to get out how you like him, wringing your hands together in an attempt to channel the panic thrumming through your mind. He’s patient, waiting for you to say what you need to say before taking your chin in his hand and tilting your head up to kiss you, sealing the deal before you can go back on your confession. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and you melt, making him smile as he slips his tongue past your eager lips.

Being with him doesn’t make him any less teasing though, if anything, it just makes him more intense. he’s meaner, more teasing, his hands growing more brazen in their attempts to rile you up. 

He’ll rest his head on the junction of your neck and shoulders, murmuring in your ear about how good you look as his hands go to hold your waist. He’ll toy with your clothing when you’re out with your friends, pulling you against his side and continuing on with the conversation as you try to keep yourself from molding into his warmth. You both know he’s doing it on purpose, know he likes seeing you cave into him, and as much as you’d want to detest it, he knows you like it too.  And he’s not above using it in the bedroom, not above taking advantage of the way you’re so willing to please him no matter how embarrassed you were about it.

He loves seeing your eyes when he’s fucking you, loves the way it’s in your most ruined state that he gets to see just how much you admired him, how much you worshipped him.

He holds your cheeks to keep your eyes on him when he’s fucking you in missionary, watching as they look up at him as if he had hung the stars in the sky. he almost laughs at you, close to calling your devotion pathetic.

He has you on your knees in front of a mirror as he gives you backshots, watching your face contort at each calculated thrust of his hips as his tip hits just right against your sweet spot. He holds your face up by the neck, applying just the right amount of pleasure to make you dizzy. He tells you to keep eye contact with him as he wrecks you.

You watch him in the mirror as he uses his free hand to pull your hips back against him with each thrust, your whines growing in volume. He has you absolutely cock-drunk, going cross-eyed and shuddering violently as you cum around him with a loud cry. 

You catch your breath together once everything has subsided, his cock still sheathed within you as you both pant like dogs. He brushes his lips against your cheek and sighs, wrapping his arms around your torso. 

“Ya’d do anythin’ f’me, wouldn’ ya?” He asks, turning your head with a gentle grip on your chin, moving you to face him. The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to know, anything.

a/n: 🫧anon IM SO SORRY I DELETED UR ASK MY BADD AGHHGSHDSH HOPE U LIKED IT THO😭😭 ๋࣭ ⭑ tag/s: @eyesxxyou

[stellayuta]

The Promiscuous Viscount - Gojo Satoru

A jujutsu kaisen x Bridgerton story

content: mdni 18+, depictions of intercourse, swearing, adultery, multiple partners, angst (lots of it), political marriage trope

word cnt: 3.6k

For the first time in the storied decades of the 'social seasons,' no title had ever felt more destined for him, the most eligible bachelor in the ton. Dearest readers, this season's incomparable diamond was no fair lady but a gentleman of legendary charm. Enter the illustrious Viscount of the famed Gojo family—Satoru Gojo. At twenty-eight, he stood as though sculpted by the gods themselves, with tresses of silky moonlight and eyes that eclipsed even the queen’s most opulent sapphires. When Her Majesty proclaimed him this year’s most eligible, the announcement was met with both astonishment and unanimous approval.

Yet, the perfect equilibrium of things was thwarted when Lord Satoru chose his bride. Whispers filled the grand halls, naming the daughters of Duke Zenin, Viscount Ieiri, and Earl Iori as the likeliest contenders for his favor. These were women of impeccable rank and beauty, often seen basking in his fleeting attention. None could have foreseen the twist of fate when Lord Satoru—known for his roguish courtships—turned his gaze away from noble lineage and crowned you, Y/N L/N, an untitled lady, as his heart's sovereign. With no rank to your name and little knowledge of aristocratic customs, you stood as an unlikely contender in this glittering world of prestige. Yet, your unwavering belief in the possibility of lasting love and your determination to face the enigmatic Viscount was incomparable too.

You stared at the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the room. Time was marching towards 9 PM at a snail's pace. Your new husband's living quarters were by itself larger than your entire shack back in the countryside. This room was made with fine upholstery, and its walls and floors were made of hardy, imported material you had never seen before. A gigantic bed was centered off and leaned against the eastern wall, with its four posters draped in midnight blue fabric.

Prior to the wedding, you were just a guest of the town. The Kugisaki family — the baron and his headstrong yet kind-hearted daughter weren't the most prestigious of families but still, they were nobility. They lived further away from the heart of town and right on the edge of the countryside. You had grown up with their daughter, Nobara, dreaming of finding the perfect man and accomplishing all your dreams along with that. Though Nobara had a stricter checklist, you simply wanted someone who would love you with all their heart. Nobara had promised you that she would take you along when it was time for her debut in the social season. And she kept her promise and the rest is history.

You hugged your knees closer to your chest as you watched the minute hand creep past twelve. It was 9:10 PM. Lord Satoru was late to his own wedding night. The covers that you currently sat on were made of icy blue satin — like your husband's eyes. You had seen your husband up close only once - during the wedding. He was ravishing beyond belief. You had stopped dead in your tracks while walking up to the altar, earning whispers and sneers from the guests. Lord Satoru maintained a cool look. Beside him, you looked much more simpler, much more common. You borrowed one of Nobara’s white dresses — the best fit you could find — a proper wedding gown was completely out of budget afterall. The ceremonies were per custom and the kiss was quick and formal and shorter than you wanted it to be — a simple peck. Maybe — the Lord was saving all the affection for this eve, you thought optimistically. 

The maids and governesses were on high alert post the wedding. They certainly weren’t expecting the bride to be non-aristocratic. They weren’t expecting to teach someone everything from scratch. Anyhow, half a dozen of them stole you post the ceremonies and covered the basics of dining, honorifics, etiquette and what to and what not to expect from my wedding night. They told you it would be enough to survive the night. They told you not to ask the Lord too many questions and try to be genial and compliant. They told you to wait on the bed patiently and not make the first move. You must not make eye contact until the lord speaks first. Then, they undid your braid, brushed your hair straight, unrobed you of your white dress and put you in something pale pink and light, removed the makeup, added makeup, plucked you like a bird being prepared for a feast. But that’s what one does for the sake of love…

You had begun to nod off from the day’s exertion when the door finally opened with a creak. You immediately jolted up and looked around, each hair on your body stood up straight and adrenaline coursed through your body. The snowy haired man entered the room with the quietness of a cat’s footsteps. His blue eyes gleamed like an otherworldly phenomenon even in the dark. He had dressed down into freer, bedtime clothes too. Subconsciously, your knees wanted to come closer to your chest at the sight of him. He neared you with an apprehensive look on his face, nothing you could quite read at an instant. You made your first mistake then, making eye contact and initiating conversation. 

“L-Lord Satoru, I— Please take a seat!” Heat crept up into your cheeks. Who are you to order him around his own house?

He looked slightly puzzled but eventually a small smile made its way up his face. 

“All of this must be new and jarring to you. I apologize.” He says, his voice steady yet soft. 

“Not at all! Why would you apologize!” this time you clamp your hands onto your mouth. In comparison to him you sound so much more brazen.

“The man should apologize first, always. Key to a healthy marriage.” He states, taking a seat beside you on the bed, facing you and using a hand to sway a lock of your hair out of your face. Your breath sways along with his movements. You immediately lower your gaze and scrunch the fabric of your night dress under your balled up fists.

“Nervous?” he asks, leaning in. He is barely a few inches away from you now. Up this close, his eyes look like the ocean — with sparkling and never ending waves. It looks beautiful. Ethereal. Your lips part at the sight. His do too. His white hair is so long and full that it nearly covers his eyes. You have the urge to push it out of the way but you resist the urge. 

You want to hold his handsome face and reprimand him. For not kissing you enough during the wedding ceremony. Right now, your heart’s beating too fast, your brain is working too fast and you could do something very stupid.

“What’s wrong? Did I lose you there?” He blurts out, breaking your trance. 

The moment stretches like a taut string between you, fragile and electric. His breath brushes against your cheek, warm and steady, and you realize just how close he is. Your gaze flickers back to his, and for a heartbeat, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing you are.

“Nervous?” he asks again, but this time, his voice is lower, softer, like he’s testing the waters.

You open your mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. You’re too distracted by the way his thumb, rough but gentle, brushes against your cheek, trailing down to your jaw. The contact sends a shiver through you, heat pooling low in your stomach. His fingers linger for just a moment before retreating, leaving your skin tingling in their wake.

“Your eyes…” you manage to whisper, barely audible even to yourself.

He tilts his head, curiosity flickering in his oceanic gaze. “What about them?”

“They’re…” You hesitate, feeling the heat rise to your face again, but the words spill out anyway. “Beautiful.”

His smile widens, a boyish charm softening the sharp edges of his face. “You’re bold,” he murmurs, the words carrying a hint of amusement, but there’s something else there too—something darker, heavier. “I like that.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest as he leans closer, his lips now just a breath away from yours. For a moment, you think he might kiss you, and you don’t know if you want to stop him. His hand comes up again, this time brushing against your collarbone, and the simple touch feels like fire.

“You’re trembling,” he notes, his voice a rasp that sends a jolt through you.

“I’m not,” you lie, the words shaky and unconvincing.

“Liar,” he whispers, his lips curling into a smirk that’s both teasing and predatory. His fingers trace a featherlight path up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake, and you suck in a sharp breath. “Do you always wear your heart on your sleeve, Viscountess?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face, steals every coherent thought from your mind. You’re aware of how close you are, of the way the air between you feels charged, like a storm waiting to break.

And then he pulls back, just slightly, enough to give you space to breathe, though the heat of his proximity lingers. His gaze softens, and he reaches up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice so tender it makes your chest ache. “I’m overwhelming you, aren’t I?”

You shake your head quickly, your hands clutching the fabric of your nightdress even tighter. “No… It’s just—” You stop, unsure of what to say, unsure of how to even begin to articulate the whirlwind of emotions coursing through you.

He chuckles softly, the sound low and intimate, and for a moment, you think you see something vulnerable flicker in his eyes. But then he stands, breaking the spell, and you’re left feeling oddly disappointed.

“Things must be confusing for you —” He sighs and you almost want to whine. “Not to worry, leave it up to me!” he grins at you, fist-bumping his chest. “This viscount is a tactful man. He would not touch the lady until she’s ready!”

Huh?

Before you can protest though, he turns to leave.

“W-wait, that’s not what I—”

“Get some sleep tonight, you must be tired. It’s been a long, chaotic day after all. Let it soak in now that you are the viscountess!” and with that declaration, he shuts the giant oak door behind him. 

For a minute, you try to process what just happened. Your husband came in, assumed you weren’t ready to have a wedding night and just left! Where did he go? This is his room after all.

You make yourself get out of his bed and rush to the door and into the hallway to bring him back. 

Well, at least he should sleep in his own bed. Where did he go? You think. There’s so much you want to talk about, so much you want to know about him.

You check out each door in the hallway lined endlessly with doors. The flicker of candlelights casts long shadows, making the air feel heavier. After the tenth door, when you are about to give up, you hear voices. 

A short walk ahead is an ajar door, emitting the yellow glow of a candlelight. You walk toward it, skeptical as the voices become clearer.

“What took you so long!” It's a woman’s voice. 

“I thought you are quicker at resolving sticky situations at this, Lord Gojo. Looks like that isn’t the case.” You hear another woman giggle followed by the abrupt sound of lingering smooch. 

“Oh my!”

“You talk a lot…” this time, it’s a man’s voice. Satoru’s steady voice, which isn’t soft anymore, it’s a bit condescending now. With your heart thrumming against your chest, you take a peek through the gap and your mouth pops wide open. Before you can scream, you slap your hand onto your lips.

Two familiar looking women are lounging lazily on the bed, naked and sweaty. Lord Satoru stands before them, hands on his hips, eyeing them shamelessly. 

You try to get a better look at the women’s faces and sure enough, they are the daughters of the Iori and Ieiri families. What are they doing here? In that state?

“Mmm’ Toru, come already.” Iori whines, extending her arms as her breasts flop about comically. “I can’t believe you’re wedded to that nobody just to give your family a compliant bride. That’s so stupiiiid!” 

“Come, come.” Ieiri lights up a cigar. “Uta here’s been waiting desperately and eating my ears off. Let’s get this started.” She moves her hair off her chest and gingerly sits beside Iori. 

“You nasty girls.” Lord Satoru snickers, taking both their faces in each of his large hands. He begins to derobe himself before you close your eyes shut tight and break into a run.

You don’t want to see any of this. You don’t want to hear any of it. You just want to go far, far away.

You run blindly down the hallway, your footsteps echoing against the cold stone walls. Your chest tightens, a bitter cocktail of anger, shame, and humiliation swirling inside you. Of course, it was all a game to him. A political maneuver. A compliant bride. The words sting, sharper than they should.

Why did you believe, even for a moment, that someone like him could see you as more than a pawn? A viscount picking a nobody — it was never about love or even mutual respect. Your legs burn as you push yourself faster, desperate to outrun the image etched into your mind: his laughter, their mocking gazes, the way he had touched them so freely.

So he was buying time for them, telling you to wait until you were ready. 

Lies. 

You burst into the first room you see, far away from that rotten place. It seems like a dusty storage — filled with old furniture and cabinets. You slump down into one of the creaky chairs and throw your face into your hands. 

What now? What happens now? It hasn’t even been a day.

What about your dreams? What are you going to tell your family? Nobara?

A sharp knock at the door jolts you from your spiraling thoughts. You freeze, gripping the armrests of the chair like a lifeline. Who could it be? No one should know you’re here—not in this forgotten corner of the estate.

Another knock, softer this time, yet no less unnerving. “May I come in?” a voice calls out. It’s low, smooth, and completely unfamiliar.

You don’t answer immediately, your heart pounding in your ears. The voice doesn’t belong to anyone in the household staff, nor could it be one of the viscount’s guests. And yet, it’s calm, deliberate, and impossibly steady, as if it knew you’d respond eventually.

“Who are you?” you finally manage, your voice sharp despite the tremor in it.

A pause. Then the voice replies, “Yuta.”

That doesn’t help. You rack your brain for any connection to the name, but nothing comes to mind. The name is ordinary, the tone unsettlingly confident. A shiver runs down your spine. What business could someone like this have with you?

Before you can decide whether to tell them to go away, the door creaks open slightly. Instinctively, you press back into the chair, your breath catching.

The man who steps inside is cloaked in shadow, his face dimly lit by the faint moonlight streaming through a small window. He’s tall and unassuming, dressed in simple but well-made clothes that bear no insignia, no hint of rank or allegiance. There’s no reason he should be here—no reason he could be here.

“How did you get in?” you demand, your voice more forceful than you feel. You rise to your feet, keeping the chair between you and him. “This estate is guarded.”

“I have my ways,” he says cryptically. His eyes, calm and hollow, meet yours. “I mean no harm.”

“Why are you here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice steady. “What do you want?”

“To speak,” he replies simply, closing the door behind him with a soft click. He doesn’t come closer, instead leaning against the wall as if to give you space. “And to offer a warning.”

“A warning?” Your stomach twists. “About what?”

“About your husband,” he says, the words sharp but measured. “And about what kind of man he truly is.”

His words cut through the air like a blade. Your chest tightens, and for a moment, you’re too stunned to respond. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you snap, though the tremor in your voice betrays your uncertainty. “You’re trespassing. Get out.”

“Could you say that after that erotic scene you just saw?” He presses and leans in.

“Do you wish to go back and see it through to the end?”

“What the hell?!” you jerk away from him.

“Apologies,” he says, raising his hands slightly, almost mockingly. “Perhaps my words were harsh. But they were honest.”

You grip the edge of the chair to steady yourself, your anger bubbling beneath the surface. “Honest?” you scoff. “You don’t even know me, or my husband. You have no right—”

“I know enough,” he cuts in smoothly, his voice low but firm. “I know what kind of man he is. I know what kind of man hides behind charm and power.” His gaze sharpens, pinning you in place. “And I know what you saw tonight wasn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Listen carefully and don’t overreact.” he says as a precaution. What could he possibly say— 

“Leave this estate and that man. Come with me as the duchess.”

The next morning you wake up with the worst headache imaginable. Daybreak is just on the horizon and the birds have started chirping their songs. Your eyes hurt and your cheeks are still stained with tracks of tears. The icy blue satin has snaked its way around your legs and waist, imprisoning you to the bed. What a metaphor. 

You somehow prop yourself up and take a look around the room. Maybe what you saw was a bad dream. Maybe none of it happened and it was all nerves. You hallucinated the worst because of your disbelief at marrying Lord Satoru. 

Your memory feels so blurry and the headache is so strong, it is painful to even think.

Right then, the door to the attached bath opens and out walks a figure with snowy hair dripping with water.

The sight jolts you upright, your heart pounding in your chest. He steps into the soft light filtering through the curtains, revealing Lord Satoru in nothing but loose, low-slung trousers. Droplets of water slide down his toned chest, glistening in the pale morning glow, and for a moment, you can’t look away.

“Morning,” he says casually, running a hand through his damp hair, sending more droplets cascading down his neck. His voice is warm and unhurried, as if the chaos of the previous night hadn’t happened at all.

You blink rapidly, the haze of sleep and confusion battling the vividness of this moment. Was this real? Was he real?

“Y-you’re…” you stammer, clutching the edge of the blanket as if it might shield you from the sheer intensity of his presence.

“Alive and well, if that’s what you’re wondering.” His grin is easy, teasing, but his eyes sharpen as they meet yours. “Though I can’t say the same for you. You look like you’ve been wrestling demons all night.”

You look away, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself. “I’m fine,” you lie, your voice brittle.

“Viscountess—” Satoru purrs, bending down to meet your eyes, he shakes his head playfully to shower droplets of water onto you, making you hide your face in your palms. 

“Rule number one as the lady-head of this house.” He says, sticking up one long finger and poking your nose with it. “You tell me everything that’s bothering you. I’m the number one person you can trust!”

He smiles gleefully and it makes you want to frown. Why does he want to convince you so bad. It hurts. He could come clean and you would have no power to do anything. 

He does seem to notice your inner conflict and raises your chin to meet his blue eyes. 

“Is something bothering you?” His question is straightforward but his glare seems to be burning holes into your being. 

Yes. You were fucking two women behind my back. Committing adultery. That’s what’s bothering me. You think.

And then almost as if he could read your mind, he swoops down and places his soft lips onto yours. You come as close to cardiac arrest as possible. Eyes wide open like saucers, you cling onto his bare shoulders, begging for air. This only makes him melt into the kiss deeper, he encircles your waist and pulls you closer to him, snaking his way up your back and onto your shoulders, trying to pull your flimsy sleeves off. 

You manage to barely escape from the kiss, with your lower lip still stuck between his teeth. He looks up at you, feral, from underneath his white, misty lashes. 

“L-L-Lord Sa-Satoru. What are—”

“First of all, no lords and sirs. It’s just Satoru to you.” he states, finally letting go of your lip that recoils back into its place, bruised and swollen. 

“B-but, Lord Sa—”

Before you can finish, he’s now onto your neck, kissing, biting and licking at the flesh. He climbs onto the bed, lifting you slightly and placing you on his lap for better position, both of your thighs circling his waist. Any reasonable stream of thoughts is drowned out by his onslaught.

“Satoru, what’s gotten into you?” you ask finally before he can go south from your cleavage. 

“Isn’t that what it is?” He cocks his head to the side and you do too. “... you felt bad that we didn’t have a wedding night. So we’re having one now!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” you try pushing him away. “My governess could come in any minute.” 

“They know better than to burst in when the viscount is in the room, my dear.” He states, stealing another peck from your lips, attempting to catch your lower lip again before you purse them for good. 

For a second there, no words are exchanged and the two of you just stare at each other. 

Is there a possibility that whatever happened yesterday was just a dream? 

There’s this weird scratch you feel on your back that you can’t seem to get rid off or tolerate anymore. 

“Excuse me —” you say, getting off of him and heading to the bath.

When you lift up your skirt a crumpled piece of paper pops out.

You lift it up and inspect it, opening it up and smoothing it out against the marble counter.

“Don't trust him. My offer still stands. 

— Y” 

You swallow hard.

It was no dream.

to be continued......

a/n: like reblog and comment to show some love and support!

[whenmuldermetscully]

I like to believe that during the secret season of sex Mulder and Scully were discreet but not hiding their relationship particularly during out of town cases. They always had separate rooms yes but it wasn’t uncommon for them to share. As much as I like and accept the common fanon of an established rule of not having sex during cases, I think realistically they just had it when they wanted it.

I think on occasion a witness or local law enforcement would flirt with Mulder or Scully and they’d politely answer ‘yes I’m sorry’ to the inquiring “oh I didn’t realize you’re seeing someone…” Or early morning liaisons would run into the two of them having breakfast and witnessing some light hand holding or the even more incriminating: drinking from the same drink or sharing a bite from the same fork.

Housekeeping at some point or other came into Scully’s room for cleaning seeing it spotless, and Mulder’s head poking into the adjoining door to let them know “thanks but no need for this room today —- oh and… how many?..” his head craning toward his bathroom where a shower is running and scully’s voice trails out, and with a small nod “but could we get some fresh towels? We’ll be out of this one in a few minutes.”

Local PD investigating 2 terrains: the crime scene and MSR - piecing together picture after picture. Scully shifting the items in her hands straight into Mulder’s, who dutifully holds them as well as her, as she braces herself against his arm to inspect the bottom of her shoe. Mulder answering Scully’s phone and then slipping it into her pocket. A med tech overhearing phone conversations like “I left it on the night stand.”, “I moved it in the bathroom when I showered”, and the ever soft “I didn’t want to wake you.” Nurse aids and hospital staff catching the tail end of quick pecks and smooches after personnel clear out their room.

And on the very very rare occasion, some young lad on the task force tasked as a glorified coffee runner or an entry level secretary to the secretary of a large PD with way too many employees —- asks Scully/Mulder point blank or refers to them as their “partner” but in the distinct romantic sense and they give an honest, shy affirmative “yes”.

[starrystevie]

based on this headcanon i posted previously!

"what do you mean you've never had a valentine?"

eddie rolls his eyes and swings his arms across his front as if to gesture to his entire being at steve's question.

"consider me flattered that you think all this," he gestures again, "would land me a date at all, but it's not like i even want a valentine in the first place."

they glare at each other as steve picks at his cold diner fries and eddie finishes off his strawberry milkshake. they've landed at a stand still, steve trying to figure out how eddie can experience a real valentine's day, and eddie trying to figure out how to talk steve out of whatever sympathy thing he's planning. he opens his mouth to say something, and before he can get a word out, eddie cuts him off.

"whatever you've got cookin' up in that pretty little head of yours, i want you to stop. i don't want a bullshit pity date on a fake holiday that only puts more money in the hallmark ceo's pockets. forget it."

eddie watches as a grin spreads across steve's face and he knows then and there that there's no way in hell steve will forget it.

it's four days later that eddie is packing what is bound to be the best bowl of his life, feet up on the coffee table and the wizard of oz playing faintly in the background, when he hears a knock at the trailer door. he ignores it with a huff and shakes his curls out of his face, bringing the bowl up to his lips only to be cut off by the knocking once more.

"what?!" eddie yells out. he doesn't want to get up and see who it is. he wants to wallow in the weird liminal space of self-pity and anger about capitalism and smoke weed until the flying monkeys in the movie seem even scarier than they already are. he doesn't want to deal with someone when he feels so crushingly lonely-

"it's me!" steve's voice is muffled through the door. "let me in, munson!"

something vaguely hope-shaped catches in eddie's chest before he pushes it away with a deep breath and a shake to clear his head. "open the door yourself, lazy. it's unlocked."

he hears something hit the door, a loud thump that he thinks might be steve kicking the door, and then hears the door handle rattle for a few seconds before steve clearly gives up with a groan.

"come on, a little help here?"

"this better be fucking worth it," he grumbles under his breath. eddie rolls his eyes and set the pipe down on the coffee table next to his pbr with a huff. "fine, fine, i'm coming hold your horses."

he doesn't really know what he is expecting, but steve with his arms wrapped around a bouquet of daisies, a too-big heart shaped box of chocolates, a stuffed bear and a card is at the bottom of the list. he's smiling that smile, the one that eddie takes a mental picture of and files into the steve-shaped folder in his memory every time he sees it, and he has on a stupidly charming button up shirt to go along with it all.

"what." eddie says blankly, the cold february air making him shiver as it hits his bare arms. steve thrusts the gifts towards him with an even brighter smile that has his eyes crinkling and eddie's heart thumping painfully in his chest.

"be my valentine?" steve breathes out and eddie has half a mind to pinch himself.

"steve, i don't-"

"nope," steve responds and pushes past eddie to get into the warmth of the trailer. "you don't get to say no or tell me it's stupid or that today's only a money grab for the corporate elite or whatever-"

eddie balks as steve beelines to the kitchenette to pull out a large glass to put the flowers in. "it is, though."

"-we're going to sit and order a pizza and eat these stupid, over-priced chocolates for dessert, and you're going to like it."

there's butterflies and knots and something that's too close to love fluttering around in his stomach, so eddie sits down on the edge of the arm of the couch and watches as steve finishes adjusting the bouquet.

"daisies?" eddie asks after a beat of silence.

steve beams. "they're your birth flower so i thought..."

dorothy's in the background saying something about not being in kansas and eddie feels the same.

this is all as foreign to him as tin men and scarecrows and wicked witches would be. he's never had anyone, let alone someone like steve fucking harrington, barge into his house and demand a date. he's never wanted anyone to demand a date out of him, especially on valentine's day of all days. he sees steve reach for a phone book and start searching for a pizza delivery number to call and it all feels right in a way that it probably shouldn't.

"are you fucking with me?" eddie asks. his voice feels small.

steve looks up, face smoothing out from determination to something softer, and puts the phone back in the cradle. he hesitates before grabbing the card and teddy bear, this fuzzy brown thing that's holding a heart that says 'i love you beary much', and hands them to eddie.

"not in the slightest," he tells eddie. with a wave of his hand, steve motions for eddie to open the card before pulling his hand up to his mouth to bite at his thumbnail.

the front of the card is simple, just some hearts with a 'be mine' in a fancy script, but it has eddie's breath catching anyway. it's a real card with real stupid hearts and real meaning behind it and it forces him to pause before he can open the rest. he's too cowardly to admit that he's afraid of whatever it could say.

"open it," steve says like it's the easiest thing in the world and eddie pulls his eyes away from the front of the card to see how steve is staring at the paper like it's going to burst into flames. "but don't read it out loud. please."

it's an easy request to follow. with the card open, eddie glances down to see only a few short sentences written and yet it still hits him like an arrow through his goddamn heart.

you're going to think this is a joke, the card starts, but i promise it's not. it's not pity, either. it's just some crazy little thing called love. be my valentine? xo, steve.

eddie can feel how big his eyes are, wide as dinner plates, as he looks between the card and steve who probably won't be hungry for pizza after he finishes chewing off his thumb out of nerves. a laugh sneaks out in a gust of wind through his nose and it has steve wincing despite himself, which has eddie rushing into action.

"you mean it?" he asks, wrapping his hands around steve's shoulders. their eyes meet and steve looks as scared as eddie feels as he nods with a watery laugh of his own.

"yeah, i mean it. you haven't had a valentine and what better way to start than with a harrington that is absolutely nutty over you?"

the tin man is the background singing something about having a heart while eddie's beats out of his chest as steve connects their lips in a soft kiss. and eddie might be against valentine's day, against capitalism and the mass-produced niceties that it brings to the everyday consumer, but if steve keeps pressing into him like this, it might just become his favorite holiday yet.

[humlase]

STRETCH! Cat under cut.

[goodsmellerart]

princess of magic and friendship ✨🌙

[fistfuloflightning]

I want people to tell their children terrifying stories about the things he did for love

Day 1 | Reincarnation for @foundersweek

[flymmsy]

(flag: pregnancy, angst)

Durge who was pregnant with Gortash’s child pre-tadpole.

Durge who didn’t realize until just before the crowning of the brain. They’re terrified of what this means and how it defies Bhaal, but also (to their own personal horror) they are…happy?

Durge who smothers it all down and tells themself they’ll decide how to deal with this after the crowning because they cannot be distracted during the raid. But, of course, their mind is reeling.

Gortash who senses something is off as they are preparing for the raid. He’s snappier than usual because so much is riding on this, and a part of Durge desperately wants to tell him but knows it isn’t the right time.

Durge who is surprised to see ‘Gortash’ during the raid when they knew he should be taking a different corridor.

‘Gortash’ who gets attacked by a mind flayer in front of Durge.

Durge who saves ‘Gortash’ and is overwhelmed with a burst of emotion. Against their better judgment, Durge blurts out that they’re pregnant.

‘Gortash’ who is, of course, Orin, having a thousand thoughts race through her mind all at once.

Orin who did not actually intend to kill Durge in that moment, who was really just trying to mess with them by turning into Gortash. But now, faced with this revelation, her mind spins. It is the ultimate betrayal of Bhaal- the creation of life instead of the destruction of it. The one exception to that rule was to create more Bhaalspawn - but this child would be of Bane. It is unforgivable.

Orin who only realizes what she is doing halfway through tearing Durge apart.

Gortash who never knew about his child.