#luxury stone bathtubs

[toyastales]

A luxurious modern bathroom.

[ubsteels]

[nopethanq]

Open Bath Room by nopethanq on TS4 Gallery

Bathe in a beautiful #bathroom with a #bathtub in a beautiful #bath cubby, nestled up against #columns, and #arch #window . This #room gives #Greek vibes. Or is it #Roman ?

[alltheirdamn]

Lilies | dom!joel x sub!f!reader

Song Inspo: Lilies by Ethel Cain

Summary: Joel gives you everything, but you’re beginning to crave more. Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI Word Count: 5.5k (sorry lol) Warnings: dom/sub dynamic, a teeny tiny bit of Stockholm syndrome, lingerie!kink, reader has long enough hair to braid, brat taming, jealousy, angst, names (little flower, sir, whore, slut), degrading!kink, anal play, anal sex, orgasm denial, oral (m!receiving), throat fucking, ball-sucking/worship, rough sex, creampie, slapping, spanking, aftercare, joel is kinda a meany but also kinda sweet A/N: this just kind of tumbled out of me and yeah… here we are lol very far out of my element with this dynamic, so hopefully i did it justice. (i am very horny for dom!joel right now, please don’t perceive me)

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

The rules were simple:

You were to be at Joel’s home at exactly four pm every Friday and stay with him until Sunday evening

Your hair must be in a braid at all times

You could only wear lingerie (selected and purchased by Joel)

That was your routine. 

You had been Joel’s submissive for half a year, and nothing had changed. You submitted to everything he asked without question. Yes, there were safe words in place and long conversations about wants and needs, but none of that mattered to you. All that mattered was Joel’s unwavering attention every weekend. 

As time passed, though, you started wanting more. Three days weren’t enough for you. The rules weren’t enough. You wanted all of Joel. Not just his commands. Not just his cock. You wanted him to be yours in every way. 

Nothing within Joel’s rules explicitly stated you could only see one another. As far as you were concerned, he only tended to one submissive at a time, and you had been with him the longest. Pride swelled inside you when you thought of that; Joel kept you because he wanted you. He enjoyed the pleasure you brought him, and in return, he cared for you deeply. But you wanted to see how deeply he cared about you and if he was as committed to you as you were to him. 

That's when you devised a meticulously thought-out plan to prove Joel’s possessiveness. The desperate need to make him realize there would be no one else to make him happy. 

You clicked the door open at precisely four pm and entered Joel's home. He kept it spotless, an immaculate representation of his attention to detail. Nothing went unnoticed, and everything had its place and purpose. Within his home, you had your purpose as well. 

Tip-toeing through his kitchen, you brushed your hand over the marble counter, the stone cold to touch as you walked into the living room. Floor-to-ceiling bay windows compromised the room's side wall, looking out onto the brick terrace. Joel’s view of the city was the best money could buy, and you spent most Saturday mornings curled up on the patio sofa, watching the sun rise over the skyline. 

The plush, gray couch in the center of the living room faced a large flat screen, one rarely used when you stayed on the weekends. Joel insisted on being present with you, whether it was fucking you into oblivion inside his bedroom or dotting over you with aftercare and affection. The lines blurred between strict rules and faltering emotions. He wasn’t a man of many words, but the feelings expressed through actions were enough to make your heart grow fonder. 

Joel was to arrive home in less than thirty minutes, giving you enough time to piece yourself together in the new lingerie he had purchased. Wandering into the bedroom, you looked over the sight of his king-sized bed, covered in a white down comforter and scattered with an array of luxury pillows. The sheets beneath the comforter were silky soft and cool to the touch, but the press of Joel’s body against yours during the night kept you wrapped in a blanket of warmth.

The master bath was beyond beautiful, with its white trimmed crowning and alabaster bathtub under the window. Two sinks were carved into a marble counter: one for Joel and one for you. Countless times before, Joel bent you over the counter, forcing you to watch him through the bathroom mirror as he ruined you from behind. You came to learn that was one of Joel’s favorite activities: making you watch him while he fucked you. You loved it, too. 

You loved everything he did. 

Setting your overnight bag on the counter, you laid out your lingerie piece by piece. The white lace bustier was practically see-through, with a detailed pattern that left little to the imagination. The only part of the top that wasn’t fully transparent was the fishbone wiring that traced the underside of the bust. The matching underwear was no better; your neatly trimmed sex would be fully seen under the lace that comprised the tiny bodice. In Joel’s words, he wanted you to look “angelic and ethereal.” Once again, the thrumming in your heart increased knowing he saw you as such. He worshiped you head to toe, and you were so eager to give him anything he wanted. Slipping the garment over your body, you worked on your hair, plaiting the strands into a perfect braid you had mastered over the last several months. You secured it with a silk bow—just as Joel had requested—and settled it between your shoulder blades. Admiring yourself, you smiled into the mirror. Joel would be pleased with you. 

But first, you needed to do something. 

Reaching into your purse for your cell phone, you adjusted the camera to capture your lace-clad body in a teasing portrait. The photo wasn’t for Joel. Scrolling through your phone, you found the contact of your latest man of interest—well, not a genuine interest, so perhaps, the latest victim? You were only using him as part of your plan, and you hoped it worked in your favor. 

As your finger hovered over the send button, you heard the unmistakable sound of the front door lock sliding open. A thrill of anxiety rushed through your body; you would do this. Pressing send, you ran to the bedroom and placed your phone on the nightstand. The ringer was on, which Joel did not favor during your time with him. 

His large frame shadowed the bedroom door as he stepped into the room. In all his glory, Joel Miller was yours for the next seventy-two hours. But if you had it your way, he’d be yours forever. Clad in his usual work attire, his broad shoulders and chest stretched out his business suit, the white button-down peeking out beneath the jacket. His thick thighs were covered in well-tailored trousers, and his shoes were pristine and polished as he liked. Gazing up, you drank in the neatly trimmed scruff along his jaw, the silver patches thickening as they neared his ears. The mustache over his upper lip was just as clean, the edges dipping close to the curve of his mouth—which was currently tipped up into a satisfied grin.

“Hello, little flower,” he greeted. 

Little flower. 

That had always been his preferred name for you. “You’re so delicate, like a little flower. I could marvel at your beauty but crush you in my hand in seconds.” 

Such a sentiment shouldn’t ignite something so visceral inside you, but it sounded so sweet when it fell off his tongue in honey-drench syllables.

“Hello, sir,” you smiled, your body situated on the edge of the bed. 

You watched as he shed his suit jacket, folding it carefully and draping it over the dresser. His eyes stayed trained on you, the rich brown of his irises boring into you with a softness so tender it toppled something inside your stomach. Working at the cuffs of his shirt, Joel rolled them in perfect sections until they hugged the thick muscles of his forearms just below his elbows. 

“You look radiant in the new set,” he said, his eyes dragging over your body. 

You preened at his compliment, a blush crawling over your chest and neck. 

“Thank you, sir. I love anything you pick out for me.”

Joel cracked a wide grin, pleased with your response. He curled his pointer finger at you, beckoning you closer. You obeyed his command wordlessly, stepping into his warmth. Rough, calloused fingers trailed over your bare skin, trailing higher up your arm until his hand came to cup your cheek. 

Your eyes fluttered shut as he rubbed a thumb over your cheekbone, the touch you craved when you weren’t in his presence. You craved tenderness at all hours of the day; you lay awake sometimes at night yearning for more. Always more. 

You craned your neck to kiss his lips softly, gently. If you could choose how you’d die, it would always be in this moment, where the world dissolved around you, and it was just Joel’s body against yours. 

The moment shattered away as your phone shrilled from the nightstand, the vibration rattling the wood. Joel broke from your lips, his eyes set ablaze and swimming in darkness. Disappointment washed over his features, the crease between his brow forming and his lips set in a thin line. Without a single word, he strode to the nightstand and stared at your phone screen, no doubt flooded with texts from the man you had sent the photos. 

Your heart thudded in your ears, the sound pressurizing inside your head. On bated breath, you waited for him to say something. 

“Kneel,” he ordered, his voice cold. He didn’t even glance at you as he said the word. 

You did without hesitation, your knees dropping to the carpet floor without a sound. The tension in the room was palatable as Joel walked into your line of vision. He held the phone in front of your face, his fingers tight around the edges. 

“Read.” 

Your eyes scanned the words on the screen, a slew of text messages… each more vulgar than the last. You didn’t want to say them aloud. 

“Read,” he repeated. 

“I—I don’t want to, sir,” you whispered.

Joel’s body was foreboding, a shadow swallowing you whole as you sat perched on your knees before him. He could do anything he wanted to you, and the truth was that you’d let him. You’d let him do anything because you wanted it. You wanted him so desperately. 

“I didn’t ask if you wanted to read it,” he said. “I am telling you to read it.”

You swallowed thickly, your voice barely above a whisper, as you began to read off the text thread.

Damn, I need to know what your pussy looks like.

Let’s meet up tomorrow.

Send another picture. I want to see your legs spread wider.

Bet you would let me cum inside you. 

Line after line, word after word, you were embarrassed. Embarrassed and afraid, neither settled well inside your stomach as it churched together. 

Tossing the phone to the ground, Joel crouched to meet you at eye level. It was the first time you felt terrified by the way he looked at you. Several times, he had been rough—almost always, as it was what he enjoyed—but there was always a glimmer of softness even when he hurt you. 

“You did this for a reason.” Joel didn’t ask; he said it like a calculated realization. 

You bowed your head, too ashamed to meet his eye. Oh, but he didn’t like that. Gripping your chin with merciless strength, Joel lifted your face to meet his. A breath apart, but so far away. 

“Explain yourself, little flower. I’m growing rather impatient.”

“I wanted to see you jealous, sir,” you admonished. “I wanted to know what you would do.”

“Jealous,” he echoed, rolling his tongue over his teeth. 

He ripped his hand from your face, letting your head fall between your shoulders. You started at the polished tips of his work shoes, the black leather shiny and without marks. No detail went unnoticed. 

“Undo my belt,” he instructed, stretching himself back to his full height.

Straightening your spine, you reached up to his belt and began to unclasp the metal, holding it tight around his trousers. Joel continued to stare down at you unamused. You worked at pushing his pants down his thick thighs, shoving them far enough to reach his kneecaps. 

“Take out my cock. Let’s see how well I’ve trained your throat.”

You hooked your thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, giving them a good tug until his thick cock sprung free. It bobbed against his stomach, the reddened tip weeping with precum. Your hand came up to grip the girthy base, but Joel tutted in protest. 

“Hands behind your back, little flower.”

Clasping your hands at the base of your spine, you peered up at him with an eager expression. Joel arched a brow, waiting for you to comply and give him his request. Shuffling your knees forward, you dragged the tip of your tongue over the slit, lapping at the salty precum that dripped down. You peppered him with kitten kisses, your tongue tracing the veins on the underside of his cock. Joel rewarded you with a satisfied hum, bucking his hips forward until the head of his cock parted your lips wider. 

Dropping your jaw open, you welcomed each girthy inch of his cock into your warm mouth, the faint smell of his body wash mingling with his musky scent as you took him deeper. The moment the head of his cock brushed the back of your throat, you sputtered softly and felt the tears begin to well in your eyes as you squeezed them shut. 

Joel ripped himself from your mouth, his hand coming down to squish your cheeks together. 

“Keep your eyes open.”

“Yes, sir,” you said sheepishly. 

He released his grip on your face and adjusted himself back at your wet lips. Sucking in a deep breath, you wrapped your mouth around his cock once more. Joel jerked his hips forward, sending his cock to the back of your throat. You swallowed around him, keeping your tongue flat against the underside of his cock. Your nose brushed against the trimmed curls that framed his pubic bones, the hairs tickling your nose as he held you there. 

“I’m going to count to ten, little flower. Be a good girl, and show me how well you can take it.”

You nodded, your mouth suctioning tighter around him. Joel’s eyes darkened, his lips parted as he readied himself to count. 

“One,” he barked. 

You blinked away the tears springing in the corner of your eyes. You could do this; you had done it before. 

“Two.”

You unhinged your jaw, your senses invaded by his scent as you pressed further into his pubic hair. Somewhere between breaths, Joel counted three and four with a loud grunt, and you continued to focus on exhaling through your nose. 

“Five,” he gritted. 

The urge to gag around his cock grew harder to ignore, and the tears flowed freely down your cheeks. Your chin was coated in drool as you anticipated the next count, your eyes foggy as you stared up at him. Joel tilted his head, admiring how he stuffed every crevice of your mouth. 

“Six.”

“Seven.”

More saliva pooled in your mouth, and you hollowed your cheeks to avoid sputtering around him. Joel’s lips curled into a devilish smirk, and he nudged his pelvis closer until your nose smashed into his skin. You coughed around his length, the corners of your mouth dripping saliva onto your neck and chest. 

“Almost there, little flower. Doing so good for me,” he crooned. 

Joel brushed a finger over your throat, tapping the bulge protruding against your aching flesh. Eight and nine were a blur, your eyes barely staying open. Every flutter of your lashes garnered a dissatisfied tut from Joel, his body tense and throbbing with anger. 

“Ten,” he sighed. 

You tore away, coughing violently as you sucked in jagged breaths. Twisting your hands behind you, you squeezed your eyes shut to push the remainder of the tears down your cheeks. Joel wrapped a large hand around the base of his cock, stroking himself slowly and lazily. 

“Stick out your tongue,” he ordered. 

The words he said were far and few, which terrified you. Deep within yourself, you knew you had enraged him with your little act. It garnered no affection as you hoped, but he still gave you the attention you yearned for. Good or bad, you would take it. You would take anything he gave you. 

A trail of saliva, salty and thick, dripped from the point of your tongue as you did what he instructed. Joel rested the velvety skin of his balls against your mouth, the weight of them heavy on your tongue. You didn’t need his commands as you slipped one of his balls into your mouth. Above you, Joel shuddered and clenched his fists at his side. You worshiped each with equal measure, alternating between gentle caresses of your tongue and sloppy suctions of your mouth. 

“That’s it, little flower. Just like that,” Joel cooed. 

A desperate moan left your lips as you lapped up the salty wetness covering his silken sack, swallowing down the remnants of your drool. Joel pumped himself faster, the sound of his jagged breathing mixing with the lewd noises of your mouth. His release was nearing; you could sense it in the way his thick thighs flexed around your face. 

“Please,” you whined, your words muffled into the hair around his balls. 

Joel’s hand slowed around his length, his thumb brushing over the slit as more precum leaked out. Staring up at him helplessly, you waited for his release to paint your tongue. He gave you a stern look, nodding toward the bed. 

“Hands and knees. Now.”

“But—,” you protested. 

Joel smoothed his palm over your cheek before pulling back and delivering a sharp smack against your face. You jerked at the sting of his touch radiating through the layers of your skin. He undoubtedly left behind a reddened mark across your cheek and jaw. 

“You’ve already angered me once,” he warned. “Get on the fucking bed.”

Your knees scuffed against the ground as you scrambled onto the bed, situating yourself in the position he commanded. The unmistakable sound of the leather unsheathing from his pants ignited a new wave of fear through your body. Joel discarded it beside your face before coasting a hand down the center of your spine. 

“I’ll give you another chance to explain yourself,” Joel said. 

The bed dipped under his weight as he pressed a knee into the comforter beside you. You glanced over your shoulder, watching through teary eyes as Joel quickly unbuttoned his shirt. Dark chest hair scattered over his broad chest, spattered lower until it tapered into a thick trail down his pelvis. A thin sheen of sweat glistened over his golden skin as he discarded his shirt carelessly onto the ground. Careless…it wasn’t something you were used to with Joel. 

“I just wanted your attention,” you muttered, your head hanging between your shoulders. 

Joel tugged your braid, forcing your neck to crane backward. Despite the harshness of his words, his touch, his demeanor… your body throbbed with an unavoidable need. It throbbed at the apex of your sex, the lace rubbing against the slick that pooled between your thighs. Joel paid no attention to the way your legs shifted side to side, his unwavering stare penetrating you. 

“Do I not give you enough attention?” He questioned. 

“You do, sir,” you nodded, the strain on your neck growing uncomfortable. 

“Perhaps you don’t deserve attention at all,” he mused. 

He released his grip on your hair, your head falling forward and hanging low between your shoulders. Joel moved behind your body, his thick fingers tearing apart the lace hugging your ass. You yelped at the sheer force of it, the chill of the room skating up your bare sex. Joel’s fingertips traced over the back of your thigh, lingering close to the outline of your weeping pussy. Just one touch. That’s all you wanted—just one. 

His touch disappeared, leaving you whining and frustrated. Joel huffed a laugh before bringing two fingers to your mouth. 

“Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

You obliged, rolling your tongue over the thick digits as they pressed down into your mouth. He pulled them away, a web of drool connecting from the tip of your tongue to the pads of his fingers. Joel knocked your legs open further, and you waited in anticipation for his fingers to give you what you needed. Except, he didn’t. 

A gasp left your lips as he pushed the calloused skin of his fingertips against the tight ring of muscles above your slit. With one hand gripping your ass, Joel spread you wider, humming at the sight of you fully exposed. 

“Maybe you don’t deserve the attention you want. You’ll take what I give you, and you’ll thank me.”

“Please,” you whined. 

“No,” he growled. “Desperate little sluts don’t get what they want.”

Joel’s finger dipped into your clenching hole, prodding you open despite your whines of protest. It wasn’t the first time he used this way, but it felt different. It wasn’t kind. It wasn’t meant to be focused on your pleasure. He was determined to prove a point, and you would comply because you were so greedy for anything he could give. He pressed the second finger to your hole, stretching you wider as he pushed them to his second knuckle. Wider and wider, he stretched you, uncomfortable but not unwelcomed. 

“I see how wet you are, little flower. I know how greedy this pussy can get, but you know what? You don’t deserve it. This pussy doesn’t deserve my attention at all.”

“Sir!” You cried. 

“You’re going to take my cock in your ass like the pathetic whore you are,” he growled. 

Joel curled his fingers inside you, slipping them deeper until they were fully seated inside you. If you felt full now, it would be nothing compared to the way his cock would split you open. The sheer thought of it sent a shockwave to your clit, the aching bud pulsating painfully. Joel laughed at the way you squirmed underneath him, rewarding your cries with a jarring smack against your ass. Fuck, it hurt. 

Tearing his fingers from you, Joel disappeared from the bed and riffled through his nightstand drawer. You heard the familiar sound of the lube squirting into his hand and the rough breath of Joel as he realigned himself with your loosened hole. The initial intrusion of his cock sparred stars into your vision, the tip of his cock tearing you open. Even in his angered haze, Joel was slow—careful. 

“Breathe, little flower,” he urged.

You barely managed a full gulp of air before Joel bottomed out entirely. A scream erupted from your lips as you adjusted to his size, each inch of his length stuffed inside your tightening hole. Your body flexed and tensed under Joel’s touch, one hand pressing into your lower back, the other looping a finger through the plaits in your hair. Beneath him, you were helpless, entirely at his mercy for whatever he wanted. 

With a slow retraction of his hips, Joel snapped his hips forward hard enough to send your upper body into the comforter. The rugged momentum of his thrusts tore you apart; piece by piece, Joel diminished you into nothing but a hole for his use. 

“Greedy fucking whore,” Joel grunted, each thrust weighted and heavy inside you. “How’s it feel, huh? You love being used like this?”

“I love it, sir,” you cried. 

Joel pulled out to the tip, a heavy breath expelling from your mouth. He ripped into you again, resolving you into a heap of tears and shallow whimpers. His finger in your intertwined hair tightened, pulling your neck back until you had no choice but to connect with his piercing stare. With blown pupils and curled lips, Joel was the epitome of carnal rage. You did this. You spurred him into this embodiment of anger. 

“Is this enough for you, little flower?” He demanded. 

Arousal dripped between your legs, the snap of his balls against your clit radiating pleasure through your body. You writhed under his hold, a pleading cry leaving your mouth as you stared at him helplessly. Usually reserved and stoic, Joel’s emotions washed over his features, speaking louder than his words. You didn’t just anger him; you hurt him. You questioned his role as a dominant, which was an unspeakable thing to do. 

“Answer me!” He raged. 

“It’s enough!” You sobbed. 

Joel fucked you into abandon, your asshole sore and pained with every cantation of his hips. He was tearing you apart from the inside out, unrelenting and punishing. Your safe word balanced on the tip of your tongue, yet you withheld. You knew Joel would stop the moment you said the word, but you didn’t want him to. You wanted to prove you could be everything and more. You wanted to prove yourself until he wanted no other but you. 

The pulse between your legs was unbearable. You were stretched out and gaping around his cock, void of any chance of release. Joel knew how your body responded; he was aware of how your hole contracted and flexed around him. Yet, he gave you nothing. He wouldn’t. 

“Taking my cock so well, little flower,” he muttered between labored breaths. “Swallowing every inch of me.”

“Please, sir. Please, I want to cum,” you babbled. 

The sting of his palm against your ass was his response to your pleas, a simple gesture to shut you up. You took it, though your body buzzed with pleasure in every limb. 

“I know you do,” he crooned softly. “But you don’t get what you want. Only what I give you. So fucking take it.”

The world was caving around you, your vision blackening at the edges. Joel wound your braid over his fist and quickened his thrusts. Your body sagged into the bed, limp and pliant. Guttural sounds fell off Joel’s lips as he fucked you into the bed. Your ears deafened to the noise, your mouth hanging open and dripping spit into the soft bedspread beneath you. The erratic drive of his cock was the only warning you had to know he was close. Jagged, deep thrusts speared into you as Joel toppled over the edge with an animalist growl as he pumped his release into your fucked out hole. You twitched under his body, your knees slipping lower as your body gave out. 

Despite the haze inside your mind, your lips tipped up into a satisfied grin. He used your body just as he wanted, and you proved fealty to him—ardent, unwavering submission to the one man who wove his way into your heart. 

Joel pulled himself from you, slow and gentle, until the roll of his release was falling between your slit. You clenched around nothing, the tight ring of muscles aching painfully. He reached up to undo the silk bow holding your braid together, his fingers working through the soft waves as they floated over your back. 

“Little flower,” he whispered, kissing your sweat-coated spine. 

You flinched at his touch, not out of fear but of shock that still radiated through your muscles. You hadn’t fully returned to your mind, and Joel took notice. Working you onto your back, he roamed a hand over your breasts; his hand pressed firmly against the thrumming pulse of your heart. You stared up at him blankly, the tears now dried against your cheeks. What had been the face of cruelty only moments ago had now morphed into the soft, longing gaze you always yearned for. Joel’s pupils had returned to normal, the flecks of amber and rich chocolate boring into you with a look of concern. 

“Thank you, sir,” you whispered. 

He bent over you, pressing a gentle kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fluttered close, relishing in the softness of his lips on your skin. You wanted this. You ached for it fiercely but could not form the words to beg for it.

“Stay here a moment,” he said. 

You lay against the bed, your limbs twitching as you rolled onto your side. Curling into yourself, you fought off the tremors still wracking through your muscles, a steady pulse rhythmically beating within your clit. Joel denied you your orgasm, which he never did. It was your punishment for wanting too much—a miscalculated attempt at proving your worth. 

The sound of running water drifted from the bathroom, followed by Joel’s heavy footsteps nearing the bed. With a quick unclasping of your bustier and a firm hand under your knees, Joel lifted you from the bed. You became weightless in his arms, cradling you to his sweaty chest. Wrapping a shaky arm around his shoulders, you rested your head inside the crook of his neck and exhaled an exhausted sigh. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said softly. 

The pungent aroma of lavender and vanilla tinged your nose as Joel guided you into the bathtub. Immediately, your muscles unwound in their tension, a relieving groan expelling from your lips. The heat of the water soothed your tender flesh, the bubbles running over your bare skin in small clusters. Joel was dedicated to aftercare, especially after rougher sessions with you. This was no different. He always remained beside the bathtub, soothing you with praise as you tipped further into its warmth.

You blinked up at him, giving him a tired smile. He gave you a silent nod, then motioned for you to slide forward. He never bathed with you. It wasn’t a rule, per se, but he never granted it to you. This was different—foreign. 

You slid your body as far as it could go, your knees pressed to your chest as Joel dipped into the water behind you. Hooking a strong arm around your abdomen, he pulled you flush with his body and dropped his mouth below the shell of your ear. 

“You chose to anger me today,” he muttered. “I need the honest truth as to why you did it.”

You twisted your face around to meet his steady gaze, your bottom lip quivering while you debated if the truth was worth voicing. 

“I wanted you to be possessive,” you admitted. “I wanted to know if you cared for me the way I care for you.”

Joel’s eyebrows raised slightly, the words shocking him.

“Of course, I care for you. Do I not show it well enough?”

“No—no, you do, sir. I just…I want to be the only one you care for.”

“You have been, little flower. There’s been no one else the entire time you’ve been with me,” he insisted. 

You turned your body around, your knees bruising against the tile as you cupped his face. Never had you been so vulnerable with Joel, but you needed him to see your desperation. You needed him to see how committed you were to your role in his life. 

“I want to be the only one,” you repeated. “I don’t want you to have another.”

Joel’s hands rested at the curve between your waist and hips, prodding your flesh soothingly. 

“Is that what you want, little flower?” He questioned. 

“It doesn’t matter what I want, sir. What matters is if it’s what you want.”

He pressed his forehead to yours, creases forming near his temple as he shut his eyes. Silence fell between you, so loud it fractured your heart. No answer was an answer. You failed in your attempts to prove yourself. You failed to make him want you more. He didn’t want you, no matter—.

“My sweet, little flower,” he sighed. 

Fresh tears slipped down your cheek, and you made no effort to swat them away. It was useless when you knew you lost the one thing you wanted the most. Joel brushed his lips against yours, and you let a muffled cry escape. 

“Rules can be rectified,” he started. “If this is something you wish, I’ll happily oblige.”

“Really?” You asked, pulling away. 

You studied him for any sign of doubt, any stolen glance that may prove his words a lie. But he looked at you with complete devotion, irrevocable certainty.

“I want you just as badly. All you had to do was ask. There was no need for defiance or jealousy.”

“I’m sorry, sir.”

“I think you’ve proven yourself more than enough today, little flower. Turn around so I can care for you properly.”

You slipped back into his warm embrace, your legs widening and pressed against his. Joel smoothed a hand down your stomach, his fingers tracing the swollen lips of your sex. You bucked into his hand, chasing the orgasm that still swam within your stomach. He drew slow, tantalizing circles over your soddened clit, muttering soft words into your ear. 

“Such a good girl,” he cooed. “I know what you need. I’ll take care of you.”

“Yes—yes,” you panted, arching into his touch. 

The pad of his finger pressed into the throbbing bud, the surging pleasure inside you growing agonizing. Bathwater sloshed around your body is rivulets, the push and pull of the waves crashing into the space where your skin didn’t touch. Closer and closer, he drove you to the edge until a delicious rapture tore through your body. Every muscle beneath your balmy skin seized upwards, a wail of relief echoing around the empty bathroom as you caved into your climax. 

“That’s it, little flower. So beautiful when you come undone for me,” Joel mumbled into your ear, his teeth nipping at the lobe. 

Shockwaves trembled over you as you slumped against his solid frame, your head falling back onto his shoulder. You had what you wanted. Body and soul, Joel granted your wish. Ecstasy wasn’t a strong enough word to describe the swelling inside your chest. 

“Stay with me. More than just the weekends. I’ll have your things brought here, and you can stay permanently,” Joel offered. “This house is rather lonely without you in it, anyway.”

“Okay,” you submitted, a grin stretching across your face. 

He was yours.

[wlwfanfictionss]

Relax, and let go

Alicent Hightower x Female! Reader

Summary: When the duties of the realm take their toll on her, her sworn sword takes care of their Queen.

or: the one where reader fucks Alicent in a bathtub :)

Word count: ~3K

Warnings: Soft smut (Alicent deserves some love), top!reader obv, yearning hehe MDNI!!!!!

a/n: Im back! sort of lol. Trying to get back into writing, and what better way to get back into it then with a little Alicent content right before season two?? Hope you all enjoy, and let me know if you all would like to see more Alicent content. Anywayssss....#teamgreen

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Her footsteps were heavy on the cold stone floor of the halls. The Council meeting had been a long one, the sun had already been set for a while now, the castle quiet since most staff and royals had retreated to their own chambers. The Queen made her way to her bedchambers at the very end of the hall, escorted by her sworn sword. You both walked in silence, you could see the weight of her duties dragging her down. Her shoulders were slumped, but still she walked with purpose. She hadn’t been sleeping, you knew that, because every night you stood outside her room to stand guard, you saw the light slip underneath her door and heard shuffling inside the room.

You open the big wooden doors that lead to her quarters, so she can step inside. You follow right behind her, lighting some candles to light up her room a bit. Before you announce your departure to the queen, now standing facing the balcony, you decide to speak for the first time in what felt like hours.

“Your Grace?”, you ask softly. She doesn't answer, seeming to be lost in her own thoughts, so you try again.

“Alicent?”

The use of her name instead of her title makes her wake from her thoughts. She turns around and looks at you. It takes your breath away every single time. You knew it wasn't right, she was your boss, the queen of the seven kingdoms, but you couldn’t help it. Every time you laid eyes on the Dowager queen, you couldn’t help but admire her beauty.

“Yes?” she responded curtly, though there was kindness in the way she spoke to you.

You decide to speak, all might it be out of line. “You should get some rest”

“Rest...” Alicent echoed, her voice tinged with frustration. "I wish I could, but duty does not pause for the queen's exhaustion." The weight of duty was immense, and the thought of rest seemed like a luxury she could not afford in times like these. Yet, the truth was that her body was beginning to buckle under the strain. Her husband, the king, was very ill, and his duties had become hers.

"But... I suppose you are right," she added, acknowledging the wisdom in her guard's words. "I cannot lead if I am weakened."

“Ill draw a bath for you, your grace” you propose. It was so late when the two of you came back from the council that her handmaidens had already retreated back to their homes.

“Alright,” Alicent answered quietly, a hint of relief creeping into her voice, “Thank you.”

Without another word, you remove the heavy layers of your armor to be able to help her out. Making your way to the bronze tub in the corner of the room, you start by heating up the water. Filling the water with oils, the sweet fumes of which filling the room with a relaxing smell.

"I... I will need some help removing my dress." Alicent spoke up. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but her words were tinged with an underlying fatigue.

“Of course, your grace”, you say, as you try not to think about the proximity in which you will be to the queen. The two of you have been close before, of course, you were her sworn sword, her protector. But never like this. Never just the two of you, confined in her bedchambers, nonetheless.

Alicent nodded her appreciation, thankful that she would not have to struggle alone with the intricate laces and ribbons of her dress. As she stood by the tub, the scent of rose oil wafted through the air, a soft fragrance to soothe her stress.

“I do not wish to burden you with my... personal matters." Despite trying to keep her composure as queen, at that moment Alicent felt a sense of vulnerability, as if the queen’s facade of regal authority had slipped away.

“You do not burden me, your grace”, you say softly. “I'm happy to help.”

“Can I?”, you ask her softly for permission to start untying the laces of her intricate green dress. It was absolutely breathtaking. A deep dark green, decorated with lace and stones. It must have cost a fortune. The contrast of her green dress and the brown of her eyes, that shimmered in the light of the candles around the room and made it look like flowing honey, made your head feel foggy.

Alicent nodded, “Yes, you may,” she replied politely. It was almost a whisper. She was slightly taken aback by your question. It seemed so simple, but to the queen it wasn’t. Her body was never hers, she had never been asked to be touched before, and your simple question of permission made her heart warm. The two of you always had this sort of tension. The air feeling thicker when you got close. You spend a lot of time together, since you were her personal guard, but somewhere along the way you created a special bond. The two of you didn't speak a lot, but Alicent knew you were loyal to her family, but mostly to her, and always stood by her, no matter what. You made the Queen feel things she hadn’t felt since Rhaenyra and her were young.

As you approached, Alicent presented her back to you, the laces of her emerald green gown flowing down her waist like intricate strands of thread. The Queen's breath hitched slightly as her guard gently removed the complex knots, the feeling of your strong hands touching her being strangely soothing to her.

And as you worked on undoing the laces, Alicent's breath grew softer as the tension from her dress lessened. The queen's back was bared for you to see, you gulped when you saw the smooth skin of her back being presented to you. The room being filled by the smell of rose petals and the steam from the bath, representing the growing tension between the two of you.

Your fingertips brush slightly against the queen's back as you remove the last of the laces. Taking a step back, you allow Alicent her space to undress further.

Alicent gracefully let her dress fall down, pooling on the stone floor like cascading waves. The queen's pale skin contrasted against the deep emerald-colored fabric, and as she stood in her smallclothes, the queen felt a strange sense of vulnerability. 

She could feel her guard's gaze upon her back, but there was something strangely comforting by the presence of someone who didn't seek to take advantage of her body or her power, but simply to serve and protect.

Letting out a quick cough, you turn around with your cheeks reddening, so she can rid herself of the last layer and get into the bath.

With her guard's eyes turned away, Alicent slipped out of her smallclothes and stepped into the awaiting bathtub. The warm water enveloped her body, and some of the day's exhaustion melted away in its embrace. As she settled into the bath, the queen sighed softly, relishing in the feeling of clean, warm water against her skin.

The moment you turn back around, your breath hitches. Although the cloudy water hides most of her body, you have never seen her like this, and your imagination runs wild about what hides beneath the rippling service of the water. You quickly shake your head to get rid of the inappropriate thoughts about the queen.

“Ehm, ill leave you to it then, your grace”, you say as you try to look away from her naked figure. Once you pick up you armor and leave for the door, a soft voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait,” Alicent's voice interrupts you, “stay.” There is a flicker of longing in her eyes as she speaks out to you.

You feel like you are in a dream right now. “Excuse me, your grace?”, you ask to make sure you heard the Queen correctly.

Alicent repeats her words, her voice tinged with a subtle plea. "Stay. Please... stay with me."

The queen's gaze remains fixed on you, and the vulnerability in her eyes is a sharp contrast to the regal composure that she so often wears around the castle. 

You drop your stuff to the floor, your gaze never leaving hers. “Where do you want me?”

She points to an antique stool next to the bathtub. “Just keep me company for a while.”

The queen's voice is laced with sincerity and a touch of exhaustion, her gaze meeting yours with a hint of tenderness and longing.

Without another word, you walk over to the stool next to the bath and take a seat, arm resting on the side of the tub. Alicent leans back against the bathtub, relishing the warmth and comfort it provides.

“Thank you,” she whispers softly, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

As you sit in silence for a moment, you try not to let your eyes wander to her barely covered body. Alicent remains quiet, her gaze drifting to the surface of the water, which slightly shifts and ripples along with the movements of her body. The heat from the water and the rose-scented steam fills the air, creating a calming atmosphere. The queen's body is mostly hidden, and yet the gentle swell of her curves are visible through the water, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to her presence.

When you catch yourself looking at her body, you quickly look up, only to be met with her brown eyes already on yours. Alicent notices your gaze upon her, and a soft blush tints her cheeks. Neither of you look away, and for a moment, the tension in the air thickens.

“I'm sorry your grace, that was inappropriate”, you say as you go to stand up, but she grabs your sleeve as not to let you leave her side

"It's alright, please... stay." Alicent's voice is a tender whisper, and as she grasps the sleeve of your shirt, her touch is gentle but insistent. Her eyes hold a faint hint of vulnerability. Without breaking their eye contact, Alicent gently tugs on your sleeve, a silent plea for you to stay. Her touch makes your breath hitch, and you sit back down, not leaving her gaze

Alicent's eyes continue to hold yours with a mix of vulnerability and comfort. The heat of the water, the scent of the oils, and the quiet intimacy shared between the two of you create a sense of closeness that goes beyond mere companionship.

Alicent's hand remains gently resting on the edge of the tub, within your reach. So you decide to make the first move. “Tell me if you want me to stop, your grace”, you say, before letting your fingertips softly touch her hand, slowly dragging them up the length of her arm.

Alicent's heart skips a beat as she feels your touch, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. Her breath catches in her throat, and her eyes follow the movement of your hand with a mix of anticipation and eagerness. After a moment of excruciating silence, she finally whispers, "Keep going," in a low, enticing voice. The queen felt like her skin is set ablaze, and she leans into your touch ever so slightly.

When you suddenly stand up, Alicent wants to protest, but before she can speak up, you move the stool behind her and sit back down. Your hands make contact with her shoulders, massaging away the tension of the day. A soft sigh of contentment escapes Alicent's lips as she feels the firm yet gentle pressure of your hands on her shoulders and neck. The queen's body relaxes under your touch, the tension, and stress of the day melting away as you work out the knots and kinks in her muscles. Your touch is soothing, and the queen closes her eyes, savouring in the sensations.

As you keep massaging her body you move your head closer to her ear. "Would you like me to keep going your grace?" you speak in a hushed tone.

At your quiet whisper, a shiver runs down Alicent's spine, and her response comes in a low and breathless voice. "Yes," she whispers, her eyes half-lidded with pleasure. "Keep going...please.."

As your fingertips work their magic, the queen leans further back into your embrace, her body surrendering to the sensations you create. Sliding one of your hands over her shoulder, you move it towards the water. The queen's body responds to your ministrations, her chest rising and falling slightly as she lets out a soft gasp. The mixture of pleasure and excitement is undeniable as your fingers graze against her soft skin.

Alicent's breath hitches as your hands make contact with her breast, the sudden intimacy and sensation sending a jolt of desire through her body, towards her core. Her back arches slightly at your touch, a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Just relax, Alicent." you speak up. "I've got you."

Your other hand mirrors the one on already on her breast and you begin to massage her chest, teasing her by sliding your hands across her nipples. When her breathing becomes more ragged, your movement become bolder. Playing with her nipples makes the Queen moan and mewl softly. You decide these sounds might be the holliest of things you have ever experienced. Kissing her neck, you can feel her pulse quicken. Never had Alicent felt such pleassure as she did now. Never had she been taken care of like this, being pleassured without being demanded something in return.

Alicent sits up more, exposing her chest to you. The top of her back that wasnt against the tub, now pressed against your front. One of your hands abandons her nipple and traverses lower under the water. When you reach her intimacy, the Queen holds in her breath. Cupping her pussy, you can feel how wet she is, even while she is submerged in the tub.

As Alicent turns her head back and to the side, you stare into her big doe eyes. Her mouth hangs open slightly as your palm slowely starts rubbing her clit. The Queen's soft sighs turn into moans and curses as the friction increases.

The hand that was still playing with her nipples, moved to her face, pulling her closer so you lips were mere inches apart. You press your lips to hers in a seering kiss, and at the same time you push a single diget inside of her. Alicent moans into the kiss, but returns it feverishly, her hand tugging at your shirt, pulling you closer. You have to try not to fall into the tub with her.

The moment you start pumping you finger inside of her, she loses it. God, if you knew the Queen of Westeros would be this loud in bed, you would have made the first move ages ago.

"Please, please, please, please..." she says over and over again, the words spilling from her lips like a prayer.

"Shhh, ive got you." you reply, adding a second finger into her, slowly picking up the pace with which you fucked her. Some of the water violently splashing over the tub by now.

You could practically hear the seams of your shirt ripping, with the force Alicent was clawing at you. Your tounge explored her mouth as your fingers kept working their magic underneath the water.

"I- Im gonna..."

"Cum for me, your Alicent" you interupt her.

And like clockwork, Alicent came undone all over your fingers. Her back arching out of the water, a loud moan of your name filling the empty space. And as you let her ride out her orgasm on your fingers, you litered her skin with kisses. Showing her your love and loyalty. Not to her family, but to her and only her.

She shuddered when you pulled your fingers out of her. Pulling them out of the water and straight into your mouth, cleaning your hand of her juices, moaning at the sweet taste. The Queen just stared at you with wide eyes.

"Thank you...for that." Alicent spoke first after she had regained her breath. A rosy tint spreading across her cheeks.

"It was my pleasure, your grace." you anwer with a slight smirk. "The water is getting cold, let me help you out."

Alicent stood up in the tub, slightly emberassed to show her body to you, even after the activities the two of you just did. She never found herself quite attractive, her body in particular. It was made to bare children, nothing more. Thats the thought she had grown up with. But now, standing naked in that tub, with you staring at her like she was the most beautifull woman that had ever set foot on the earth, she felt like she wasnt just a tool for men to use and abuse. She felt seen and loved.

You lifted her out of the tub like she weighed nothing and pulled a large towel around her naked frame. Rubbing you hands over her arms to help her dry off. You let her dry herself off fully as you go over to blow out most of the candles, letting just a few lit for when she sleeps.

Standing back infront of her, Alicent had now dressed herself in her nightgown. You push a strand of hair behind her ear and cup her face, before kissing her one last time. For all you knew, this moment would be a once in a lifetime. Where the two of you would not speak of this ever, or you would wake up tomorrow to guards dragging you infront of a dragon to be its breakfast for what you just did to the Queen of Westeros. The kiss was short, but her lips felt heavenly on your own.

Alicent leans into the kiss. She felt like a teenager again. Deep down she knew this was wrong, but right now she had never felt this good.

"You should get some sleep" you say. "its late and you have a long day tomorrow."

"You are right" she says before kissing your cheek and climbing into bed.

"You can't stay, can you?" she asks. She knows the answer, but still sounds hopefull.

"I can't, but i will be right outside your door." you answer as you put your armor back on to stand guard at the Queens door all night.

As you go to leave, she stops you one last time.

"y/n?"

You turn around and see her all cozy in her bed. "Yes?"

"Thank you" she says in the most sincere way possible.

"Anytime." you answer, before leaving her room and closing the door behind you. You didnt know what would happen between the two of you now, but you meant it. You would be there for her, always, no matter what. You had told her many times but after tonight, Alicent might truly believed that.

[jmliebert]

♡ hot and bothered ♡

Summary: You took a deep breath as you walked toward the bathhouse pool, your towel barely covering your body. The steam from the hot water wrapped around you, but it wasn't enough to hide from Halsin's gaze... enjoy

smut with fluff?

Word count: 1,900

Tags: p in v, smut (shameless), fluff and lots of wet flesh :))

Warnings: explicit content (18+)

Author's note: oh, halsin what did you do with me?

also! you can read this on ao3 if you prefer it that way ♡

You took a deep breath as you walked toward the bathhouse pool, your towel barely covering your body. The steam from the hot water wrapped around you, but it wasn't enough to hide from Halsin's gaze. His eyes steady and intense, following your every move with a kind of quiet curiosity that made you shy. He saw your body before, you felt his eyes on you countless times, still you couldn’t stop the feeling that was growing inside your belly.

It had been a long day for you both. So when Halsin suggested visiting a secluded bathhouse in the inner city, you eagerly agreed. It was so long since it was only you and him. Being somewhere nice, relaxing and spending time together like normal people do.  

The bustling streets of Baldur's Gate seemed to blur around you as you and Halsin went through city's winding pathways, your hands entwined. Each step felt lighter, as if the weight of the world had been lifted just by his presence. The sounds of the city—merchants calling, carts creaking, and people chattering—faded into the background. All that mattered was this moment, just the two of you, walking side by side.

As you paused, Halsin turned to you with a warm smile, his grip on your hand gentle yet firm. You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him softly, his lips warm and tender against yours. There was no rush, no urgency—just a shared moment that seemed to stretch on forever. When you pulled away, his eyes sparkled with amusement, and you couldn't help but laugh at the joy of just being with each other. You felt so young and carefree, happy. 

In love. 

The bathhouse was as grand, but cozy. White stone gleamed in the dim evening light, and intricate marble sculptures of water nymphs and mermaids adorned the walls. High ceilings and lush greenery created an atmosphere of relaxation quiet luxury. The scent of rose petals and aromatic oils filled the air as steam rose from the various pools.

You rented a private room with a bath as large as a small pool. The water was hot, steam rising and swirling in the dimly lit room. The scent of herbs and roses filled the air. As you stepped into the area, you saw Halsin already there, his long hair tied into a messy bun. He leaned back in the bathtub, his large arms spread out at the edges, his muscles taut and defined, veins visible on his forearms. His head was tilted back, eyes closed in quiet relaxation. He looked divine. 

When you entered, Halsin's eyes opened, he looked at you and smiled warmly. The moment your eyes met his, your poor heart skipped a beat. He looked so effortlessly handsome, the soft light accentuating his strong features. His smile was inviting, promising. All you wanted was to melt in his body and turn into nothing, just for a moment. 

You let your towel drop to the floor, the sound barely a whisper over the bubbling water. You took a deep breath and slid into the bath, feeling the heat swallowing you. You slowly moved to sit beside Halsin, your head leaning on his broad arm. His hand found yours, your fingers intertwining, grounding you in his gentle touch.  You closed your eyes, enjoying simple closeness of his body. For a long time both of you didn’t say a word, you didn’t have to. 

Then Halsin broke the silence, his voice low and soothing. “You know,” he said, tracing gentle circles on the back of your hands. "I don't think I told you today how beautiful you are. I could spend an eternity just looking at you.”

You felt a smile tugging at your lips, your chest feeling light. “You’re always so poetic,” you teased, giving him a soft kiss on the shoulder. 

Halsin chuckled quietly, his voice a low rumble. “Maybe it’s because you inspire me,” he replied. His hand traveling to your nape. "Being with you feels like coming home, and it's a feeling I never want to lose,” he added after a moment, his words barely above the whisper. 

Something in his voice as he uttered those words, made your heart swell. You kissed his shoulder again, then his collarbone, feeling his body tense a little under your touch. You couldn’t see it now, but Halsin’s gaze darkened slightly, his gaze focused on you, tracing the lines of your lovely body. 

His hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing your skin. “Can I kiss you?” He asked his voice laced with anticipation

“I thought you’d never ask,” you replied with a playful wink.

So he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a soft, lingering kiss. The initial contact was gentle, almost hesitant, but as your lips moved in sync, the heat between you grew. You felt the warmth of the water envelope you both, amplifying the sensation of his hands on your skin, tracing delicate patterns along your back. Your fingers explored the broad expanse of his shoulders, feeling the powerful muscles beneath his skin.

You shifted to straddle his lap, bringing your bodies closer, your chests pressed together. Halsin's arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you even tighter against him. It felt so good you gasped. Then Halsin pulled back just slightly, his breath warm against your lips. 

"Can I kiss you again?" he teased with a smile and you nodded. The kiss deepened, his mouth pressing firmly against yours. It was like he was trying to drink in your essence, his lips capturing every sigh and moan that escaped you. The rhythm of the kiss quickened, each touch more electrifying than the last. His tongue teased yours, and the heat grew almost unbearable. 

His hands wandered, tracing the line of your spine before settling on your hips, guiding you into a slow, rhythmic motion. 

The heat of the bathhouse combined with Halsin's embrace made your head spin. The steam seemed to grow thicker, filling the air with a humid intensity that left you feeling lightheaded. The sensation of his lips on yours and his hands roaming your body sent waves of warmth coursing through you, and you found yourself melting into him.

Your hips began to move with a subtle rhythm, a slow, instinctive sway that spoke to the need building within you. You could feel Halsin's arousal, his stiffening length pressing against your belly, the hard tip nudging your skin. It made your heart race and your pulse quicken. The growing tension between your legs was of a desperate need of more friction,  tightening with each passing moment.

You could feel Halsin's breaths growing heavier as he pulled you even closer, his lips trailing down your neck and over your collarbone. Every touch, every brush of his lips against your skin, sent sparks of desire racing through you. You couldn't help but press yourself closer, the need for him almost too much to bear.

Breathless and flushed from the heat, Halsin brushed away the damp strands of hair sticking to your forehead with adoration written on his face. His eyes held a silent question and you answered without a word, your hand sliding down to touch his hardening shaft.  Your lips yet again closing in a kiss. A low groan escaped him, the sound resonating with desire.

But then you moved away, leaving him aching with the sudden loss of your touch. Halsin's eyes followed you with renewed intensity as you leaned over the edge of the bathtub, presenting your back and curving your hips invitingly. Tonight you wanted to be fucked rough.

Halsin didn't hesitate. His hands gripped your hips, strong yet gentle, pulling you back toward him. He kissed your shoulders, his lips trailing down your spine, pressing against each vertebra with reverence. As he reached your nape, he nipped it gently, the sensation sending shivers through you.

Then Halsin's grip tightened, his body aligning with yours, and you could feel the heat of him against you, his hardness pressing insistently at your entrance. With a deep breath, you relaxed into his touch, feeling the warmth of the water mingling with the warmth of his body.

As Halsin pressed into you, his hard length entered smoothly, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming, the way he stretched you sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. His groan in your ear was primal, animalistic, and you couldn't help but respond with your own moan, each sound feeding the other's desire, your loud breaths echoing through the walls. 

His hands tightened their grip on your hips, and he began to move, each thrust deep and powerful, his hips slamming against yours with a force that made the water splash around you. Halsin's pace grew more urgent with each passing moment, his movements raw and unrestrained. 

You arched your back, pushing into him, welcoming the intensity, craving the roughness. Each thrust sent a jolt of ecstasy through you, and you could feel the tension building, coiling in your core. Halsin's breath was hot against your skin, his moans growing louder as he found his rhythm, each stroke deeper and more determined than the last.

It didn’t take long for the waves of pleasure to pull you under, each thrust bringing you closer to your peak. Your legs grew weak from the relentless intensity, your inner walls clenching tightly around Halsin's hard length, eliciting a low groan from deep within his chest. His eyes shut tight, the sensation almost too much to bear. You told him you were close, and he wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you firmly against his chest. Your hands no longer leaned against the edge of the bathhouse tub; instead, you knelt on your knees, completely at his mercy, leaning   your back on his chest.

With one hand, Halsin cupped your face, gently turning you toward him to capture your lips in a kiss, his tongue tasting your moans as he pressed his other hand to your belly, feeling each of his movements deep inside. It was intense, almost suffocating, but in the most delicious way. 

You came hard, your body convulsing around him, the intensity of your orgasm making you cry out into his mouth. Halsin's pace became more erratic, his thrusts growing sloppy, and you could feel the warmth building deep within you as he reached his climax. Thick ropes of cum filled you, the pressure of his release making you both gasp with satisfaction. His forehead pressed against your shoulder as you both caught your breath, the intensity giving way to a comforting stillness. The bathhouse grew quiet again, save for the gentle splashes of water and the sounds of your breathing, slowly calming as the aftershocks of pleasure coursed through your bodies.

As you both left the bathhouse, your bodies felt relaxed and warm, the heat from the bath still lingering on your skin. The night summer breeze was a refreshing balm, soothing your heated bodies as you stepped out into the cool air. It felt like a gentle caress after the intensity of the bath, and you welcomed it with a contented sigh.

Halsin's hand found yours, his fingers interlacing with yours, and you walked slowly through the quiet streets. 

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡

[hellowoolf]

electra heart

pairing: din jarin x prostitute fem!reader

summary: with the softness of your body you have bought your piece of luxury, clawed your way to opulence, and wait now on the lustful whims of the rich and powerful. what havoc is wreaked when the only client you've ever loved, your mandalorian, finds you in the golden smoke of a gala on canto bight?

warnings: mention of alcohol, prostitution, reader is literally a prostitute, reader goes by alias "edie", din calls her “edee”, angst, quick mention of killing (bounty hunting), porn with plot, SMUT, soft!dom din, unprotected piv, beskar humping (sue me), tiiiny bit of degradation if you squint your eyes and pat your head and rub your tummy, little bit of begging, fucking in a literal suit of armor, creampie (if i left out any, let me know <3)

word count: 4.7k

authors note: first din fic alert !!! hand on heart i meant to keep this light hearted. and that’s what counts…right ??!!!!

woolfie’s masterlist

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you had been small, once. a young thing born into the streets of tatooine, conjured by them, slipping dirty like a curse through the city with a beggar's cup. in the day, the sand heated to glass and fire, and you trailed in the shadowed coattails of men the passers by could think your father, but with nightfall came the slow, syrupy suck of warmth from land, and even pressed up against building corners and doorways you shivered in the starlight. and what a cruel thing it was to know—to be, even then, so certain of your own poorness. you stuck little fingers through the holes of your clothes to cork the heat of your skin, and reconciled, in the meanwhile, with your birth as a nomad with no place to journey.

oh, but you loved the ships. with festivals held on the plains came warships and single-seat fighters, great discs of silver settling the baking sand, and you circled the throngs of people to let the gleam of sunlit metal blind you, if only for a moment. with scrap metal and a child’s palms you laid your plans there in the tatooine sand, to seek out whatever precious lavishness was left out there for you. beads of sweat jeweling down your wrists you thought yes, you were fit for that sort of life.

it became clear to you, when you came of age, that your body was your only currency for purchasing such plans. kicking stones while you wound through the cityscape, you supposed the home you could make in a brothel, and the money, too, made for an even exchange, and besides, you’d absorbed worse than man. you tap a manicured nail down your glass and hum with the bellish chime. where had all those girls gone? where were they now? you wonder if they’ve caught wind of you from here, if your perfume has traveled that far. you hope so.

“my edie, how are you honey?”

kel talbot is even blonder than you remember him. with his chest to your back in the sprawling porcelain of his bathtub he’d admitted, along the skin of your shoulder, that it wasn’t real, the color. he dyed it when he went home to naboo, he said. still damp and soapy he’d tipped you an extra 5,000 credits, for your discretion and your loveliness. 

“i’m well, kelly. it’s always so wonderful to see you,” you lilt back to him. and because you can’t help yourself, so prone to indulgence now, you add, “have you been off home? i haven’t seen much of you here.”

he’s lovely, really, and delighted that you would ask. “as a matter of fact, i have. my mother’s been remarried a sixth time, if you can believe it. a great big ceremony and all, and i really couldn’t miss it.”

you smooth your free hand down the lapel of his jacket, black silk gleaming between the pillars of your fingers as you drag them. you wouldn’t mind him, for the night. “i really miss you so much when you’re gone.”

he steps closer, flattered little smile, and you look up at him through your lashes. “don’t stroke my ego, edie, it’s unbecoming,” he whispers, so thoroughly pleased with your attention on him, and you tug on the bunch of his coat in your palm.

“do you want me to stroke something else for you, kelly?”

he lets out a shuddered breath across your face. heir to an agricultural fortune on naboo, he is all tradition, brought up on pomp and circumstance and a set of shoulders shaped for the head of a long dining table. your innuendos fall heavy on him, always. he doubles over with them, sinks into you to realign himself upright. edie, edie, someone called you edee once, it means jaws, teeth, he’d told you. when it came time to shed your first name, your real name, it’d come naturally. edie, edie. kel is ripe for biting now.

“i–i have somewhere to be, honey, i can’t.” you pout at him a little. he tips generously. “don’t look at me like that.”

you set him back by your hold on his suit and he brushes himself with his palms, dusting the fabric from whatever coital indecency you’ve smeared on him.

“i’ll let you know when i’m in town again, okay?” and he offers it like a favor, and you suppose he hopes it to be one, so you nod with a gentle sigh.

“go enjoy your night, kelly. i’ll be here if you change your mind,” you promise, and with a tender smile his platinum hair filters back through the ballroom. 

if you’re honest, you don’t really know the purpose of this event to begin with. canto bight shines bloated with galas and gamblers, and you dance, ephemeral, through the lot of them in search of clientele. scanning the dancing gold and satin of this crowd, collected on the bottom floor of the hotel you work from, you find mostly elderly men, married and elderly. you certainly aren’t above servicing either, though you went out tonight for the delights of it more than anything else. draping yourself in the inordinately expensive wrappings gifted by your previous clients, arms and collarbones dripping over with fine jewelry and precious gems, you enjoy the ritual of it, now. you enjoy the rest of it, too, with the right sort of client. you drag a red gemstone, set in gold, to and fro along its chain, your first little opulence left with the credits on the windowsill. edee, edee. a passing, devastating thought: like the girls from that first whore house you hope he smells you, hope through the filter of his helmet he’s struck with the scent like a sharp ache that sweetens in the middle. and—

you should’ve missed it, really. an inconsequential glimmer in the face of all the light you’ve gulped down these past years, but still you seem to find it, the little silver spotlight convexing through the curve of your glass. it points right on you, the beam, and you tilt the glass back and forth to watch the light twitch along your sternum. your body tenses with the stretch of a memory, of you in the sand on your back with the sterling starships jumping into hyperspace above you. but surely there’s no ship here, you reason, and when you look up, he’s right there. they all wear the same getup, creed driven and plated, but you are certain it’s him. with a cock of his hip and a shoulder leaned up against the wall you are certain, so certain, and he is right fucking there. it’s all coming back to you now, his beskar in the rotting wood of your doorway, little words in mando’a, your name, the first one, in his mouth. your mandalorian.

gliding through the dancing bodies of the ballroom—they part for you, now—you shiver with the breeze of your dress, a great sweeping curtain of red silk. you don’t remember, really, when he stopped coming to see you, only that you were wholly and inappropriately devastated. you missed the stick of him between your thighs, the way he loved you. you were so sure he did, back then, and you find that still, as this diamond sea of people carves a path for you to him, you are still sure. you can feel your own wetness collecting at your seam; you cannot unlearn this want for him.

he doesn’t notice you until you’re inches from his side, and still he won’t turn his head. from his peripheral you are unrecognizable, you suspect.

“which one?”

and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him move the way he does as your voice echoes behind his visor. it’s a startled jump, a straightening, a tip of his helmet to the side. you think he’s frightened, at first, a heavy terror that collects through the tendons of his hands, but the fear leaves easy, sugars into wonderment. he says your name, arced in question and through the rasp of his modulator.

you shake your head, look out at the ballroom. “i don’t use that name anymore.”

“i–you…” he shakes his head, knocks something loose, “...what are you doing here?”

you snort. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i have someone i’m looking for.” and it should be ominous—i have someone to kill here—but his voice is still soft, airy with the sight of you. you turn back to him and nod to the crowd.

“yes, i ask again, which one?”

“you know i can’t tell you that.” and he says it like a memory, like the sweet juice of nostalgia on his lips, he says it like i remember you.

you shrug. “i hoped maybe the rules had changed.”

“mm,” he hums, “century old creeds don’t seem to, i’m afraid.”

you giggle with the youth he brings you back to. it’s so easy, falling back here with him. the tilt of his helmet leans to his other shoulder, dark visor tipping down your dress, and your skin fizzles. 

“what’s brought you here, then?”

you mirror the angle of his neck. you know, you know. he grunts around something thick in his throat, your name, the first one, you think. he remembers what you said.

“what do i call you? now?”

the delight that twists through you is a sacred one. “edie.”

this does him in. his head tips back against the wall behind him, steadying breath filtering out. “edee?”

“not quite. e-d-i-e.” he lifts, with what seems a great effort, his head back up to look at you. you continue, softer, “but almost.”

and because you know your mandalorian, you see in the shift of his boots on the ground that he’s as ecstatic as his metal plating will allow. his hands twitch, and you want them to touch you, need him to touch you.

“come dance with me, mando.”

he does his best to hesitate, really, but then you’re out among the swaying people, one gloved hand at your back and the other clasped between your fingers, closer now than you’ve been since he last came inside you some years ago in whorish darkness. you squeeze him thinking of it, the stick and the smell, and he presses you further against the gleam of his chest, yes, i remember, i remember. it’s only here, molded around him, that you feel how much bigger he is, the broad width of his shoulders cemented out past the lines of him you used to tend to.

“you look…sort of different.”

“is that so?”

maker, you love the sound of him like this, so close in, so insistent on whispering, so incapable of doing so. “mhm.”

“doesn’t hold a candle to the changes you’ve made, cyar’ika.”

“mm,” you hum, “you know, it’s funny, i feel much of the same.”

he bunches his hand a moment in the silk of your dress. “the glamor hasn’t pulled you under?”

your laugh reverberates against his chestplate. “oh no, i’m sure it has. i just mean i’ve always liked shiny things.”

he groans, quiet and tight. “and why’s that? you like your reflection in them?”

he unlatches you from his chest to spin you around before fastening you back to him, and your scoff whips an arched path around you. “please, the vain one between us has always been you, mando.”

he lowers his head, great secret on his lips. “i haven’t shown my face in decades, edee.”

you can hear his tongue on the word, and you know he hasn’t said your new name, similar as it may sound. the lapping scoop of mando’a washes you over again with the memories of him. and laughing, again you are laughing. you love this bit. “yes, i do remember that part. though i find it awfully excessive that you prance about the galaxy in this welded jewel of a thing.” you knock against the beskar with a knuckle.

“welded jewel. you’ve gotten metaphorical while i’ve been gone.”

“this crowd enjoys it.”

he glances over and around your shoulder. “and you enjoy them?...this crowd?”

you suck on your front teeth to think on it. “you know, most of them don’t ask for it. not all of it, anyway. it’s mainly a lot of talking, now.” and it’s true. even above the lust, this powerful lot is lonely, irrevocably lonely. he nods, and as your heart hammers and wails you tilt your head up to his helmet to whisper against his visor, “you never wanted to talk, did you mando?”

the band of his arm around your back constricts again, a gruff admission, “no, i didn’t.”

he never did take anyone else in that little brothel, it was only ever you. the other girls liked to watch him pass by through the hallway, luster of his armor glinting in the low light, but he walked a tight line to your door, knocked twice, soft as anything. even in that wooden box, a bed and a window and an empty dresser, you remember the metal of him grating at the joins as he tried to make you feel something. you remember, too, that so green, so newly wrung out as you were, your limbs went limp before his credits ran dry, but he defected to your will, watched your body and worshiped at its altar. when your spine loosened and your hips unwound, still with time paid for, he stepped back into the sanded stench of tatooine, hand-cupped pile of credits on the windowsill. yes, the windowsill and the i’ll come back for you and the creak of the floorboards, you remember it so well.

“how much do you charge these days?”

you’re tightening your thighs together as you sway with him. “don’t patronize me.”

“i’m not.”

a ribbon of air releases from your nose, be steady. “20,000 credits.”

and he doesn’t flinch, only lets the hand around your back slip along the gloss of your dress, drawing a line above your ass with his thumb, the line he won’t cross without purchase. “i’d pay it.”

you can’t help this now. “will you?”

whatever mark he’s come to kill tonight is slipping through his fingers, but you fill that space just fine. his helmet tilts, and you feel a leather paw come up to retrieve that little red necklace from the hollow of your collarbone. the pad of his glove passes over the gem once, twice, body tightening and buzzing in metal. “this is mine,” he chokes.

yes, it is. you nod. and he’s decided, it seems. with a modulated groan and let’s go in your ear, he’s shepherding you from the ballroom, hand tight at your waist as you find your way to the elevator. and what with the ceremony of your mandalorian, the tediousness of his armor coming off, you fill the elevator shaft with the smell of your drooling pussy and the air thickens with the buzzing glow of you both together again, but you do not move. the tickle of his eyes through tempered glass rubs behind your ears, still a killer, always a killer, you think, just as you are forever what you have always been. the two of you, frozen in blood and sex, the only warmth you’ve ever known. this reality pulls behind your tongue and you gag on it. 

ding. the doors slide open. 

you press a thumb to the screen on your doorknob and your mandalorian crowds up behind you, lets you feel the cool touch of his body, the heat that peeks out at the corners. with thick fingers squeezing at your waist and the hard curve of his helmet at your hairline, your knees buckle with the thought that you might have loved him, too, perhaps fatally, but as the lock clicks open and he pulls you inside you suppose it doesn’t matter much now. 

you’ve worked this room for nearly a year. a window expands from one wall to the other, beams the morning light and warms the bed sheets, and in the drab of afternoon, twinkle of the city just barely cresting over the sunshine, you watch the people below. drunkards and lovers and princes, you scratch their heads with the cliff of your nail, nose against the glass and breath fogging there, drawing up their mythology and smudging it with the skin of your palm. now, though, with the constructed starlight of clubs and casinos shouldering its way through the night’s darkness, the room bathes in polluted light and the faint sound of wealthy indulgence. there is no windowsill for your mandalorian to balance his payment.

“come here, edee.” 

he’s sat himself on the edge of the bed, hand running up and down the metal expanse of his thigh. you stalk your way to him, ruck the hem of your dress up passed your knees to straddle his leg, and slowly, so slowly, through honey and slick and years of parted wanting, he brings his hands to your sides. you splay your fingers on his helmet.

“been a long time, mandalorian.”

he hums in agreement, tips of his thumbs just grazing the underside of your breasts over the silk of your dress before running down again, relearning the ends of you. “my cyar’ika,” he whispers. 

your cunt clenches, sobs with his sounds and the pressure of his thigh. breath shuddered and indignant you drag your pussy along the plate of armor. throat tight with a whine you ask him, “how do you like it now, cyare?”

his body takes to the slice of mando’a in your mouth like water to sand, something dark and heavy, and his hips tilt up to you as you undulate your cunt along him again. the coil of you both is raveling taut and knotting at the edges, perhaps permanently now, twisting back into the shapes you used to make together. and it was always this way between you, this dancing walk to madness; with the head of his cock he fucked a shard of beskar into you, you think, that first time, and in every meeting since he’s rut his hips to claw the thing back out, but your body has absorbed the alloy of it. 

“i want you to fuck me like you missed me.” a shuddered breath, a secret thought, and then: “did you miss me?”

and that question doesn’t come from the metal. no, with your palms warming his helmet you know he’s asking from the fleshy lines between the silver pieces. this is a bloody question. the drag of your cunt against his leg continues still, toes curling beneath you with the cold sting through the fabric of your panties, and perched here atop him you suppose your honesty costs you little in the face of all the rest you’ll give up.

“yes, i did.”

his hands collect your dress like water, silk spilling out between the fingers of his gloves, as he bares you to him, and his visor tips with the sight of you, a feat of topology he memorized so long ago. with a brush of red fabric against your ears you cling to him in only the little scrap of lace that licks along his leg with the wet kiss of your cunt.

“this pussy get wet for me like it used to?”

fuck. 

“yes, yeah,” you breathe out, little bites of ecstasy weaving their way from your clit to the nape of your neck. 

“oh, my edee, look at you,” and he grips a hand in your hair, pushing your eyeline down to watch the gleaming strip of want brushed and rewritten over on his armor. “you like drenching me like that? fuck cyar’ika i’ll leave this hotel like this and everyone will know i’ve fucked a fucking whore.” fuckfuckfuck. you remember the vein along the underside of his cock, want him to hurt you with it now. 

“so fuck your whore, mando, you’ve paid for her,” you plead, but he drops his helmet to your forehead, the both of you still awe struck at the starlit gash of slick you’re dripping on him as your hips gyrate. 

“you’re no more patient than you used to be,” he chuckles, but the wobbled rasp of his voice strips him all but naked to you. his hands grind you harder on his body and you wail, neck open as your head falls back. the pleasure sinks its teeth in you now, all hot bloodlust and bubbling open like seafoam.

“fuck, mando, i–i’m gonna come.”

“yeah, that’s it, right here, make that pussy gush for me and then i’ll fuck her open.”

ecstasy knocks through your arteries as your body pulls tight against him, and with desperate hands he grabs at you, around your asscheeks and between your shoulder blades, to feel you jerk with it. he’s groaning something deep and unforgivable watching you move, but already you’re looking for the weight of his cock.

“fuck me, fuck me,” you heave into his shoulder as you slump over, and he’s nodding silently with you, yes, i remember, i remember. the preamble of fingers and tongues is being leapt over, but neither of you seem to mind. he pulls the leather of his gloves off to maneuver you onto all fours on the bed, and after working his pants open with the bared warmth of his fingers the pads are back on you, running down your back and up your thighs. the heft of him pokes at you and you’re clenching with the feeling, the memory, again the memory. from between your open legs you drop your head to watch him pump his length, fingers tan and thick and a little tattoo between them. 

his head catches at your opening and a whine spills from between your teeth. 

“louder, cyare,” he grounds out. another inch in and you keen.

“fuck.”

his palms find purchase on your side and he anchors himself there, partway within you. you both whistle out whispered breaths listening to the sound of you joined together, him pulling out a centimeter before sinking it back in, fucking you with the head of his cock. 

“oh, it’s just the fucking tip and i’m stretching you already, cyar’ika,” he moans.

“more,” you mewl, “i want more.” and really that’s always been your problem, you suppose. 

his hips are speeding up now, wretched little humps into the tight clutch of your cunt, but he abstains from the whole of it. “fucking beg me for it, edee, i’ve waited this fucking long.”

into the sheets, bunched by your fingers and your jostling knees on the bed, you moan, “please, please, please, fuck me on your cock, cyare, i need it, please.”

the piece of himself, the metal and his creed’s tongue, that he rutted into you all those years ago comes roaring at him now, is cracked open in the air of your voice, and he stutters with it. he fucks you like retribution, hips slapping against your ass with a wet crackle, and you’re screaming, suddenly.

“that’s it, edee, that’s it.”

the walls of your cunt pulse velvet around him as he punches in and out of you, cock reaching up like he’s trying to touch your tongue with it, run through the length of you with his steel and grunting. your body blooms for him, petals open like it always did. when was the last time fucking him felt like your job? it’s all coming back to you now, crying at the foot of your bed, missing him dearly. you have always been a professional despite the intimacy of what you do, but you feel wholly unprofessional here.

“fuck, you’re so fucking tight, it’s like you’re sucking me back in,” and you can’t help your clenching now, “yes, edee, again for me, again.”

and you do, pulsing and clamping on his shaft, and he nearly wails with the feeling. the hum of his voice through the helmet protects him some, but maker you know him well, years worth of your mandalorian, and so you hear it all clearly, him melting behind the metal and fusing at the edges. you push away the thought that he’ll pay you for this.

“maker your pussy feels so fucking good, i’ve never stopped—ah—never stopped fucking thinking about it.”

the jut of his chestplate bites your skin as he pulls your hips up but you barely feel it. “no?”

“never, never,” he repeats, and his own babbling eggs him on, you think, as he thrusts impossibly faster. he fucks you like he needs it, has always needed it, and you’re reminded again that you loved him before, that you love him again, now, perhaps, but it’s all so hard to see clearly with the tight chain of pleasure running up your spine. 

slick seeping from your hole around him you moan, “feel so f–fucking full of it, fuck.”

a frantic hand comes around to your front, pulls the red gem from your chest to lay along your back, and watching the glint of red and gold that he left you bounce on your skin makes him growl and choke. “fuck, fuck, i’m so close, cyar’ika.”

he bends to meet your back and drops the weight of his helmet on the wing of your shoulder and you might not survive the angle of his cock in you now. you’d clasp your hands in penitence if they didn’t hold the both of you up, because this luxury, him greeting your body like it’s his final gutted conquest, is the last you’ll ever beg for. 

with both of you sputtering your souls out on the duvet he groans, “i miss your old name, edee, give it to me again.”

the begging makes you pulse, but you shake your head. your name is your first and only born inheritance, and when you grew old enough to realize it you’d had to shed the thing, or rather hide it, stashed away, untouched. 

“please cyar’ika, just one more like this, just like this, your real name.”

your moans screech with the tragedy of him pleading with you this way, and bellow because you want to let him. yes, you love him now, and you wheeze, “i don’t know your real name, mandalorian.”

this knocks the wind from him and it blows out along the back of your neck but the piston of his cock in you continues, heightens further, and you’re both on the precipice of something devastating. he groans out breathless “din, din, it’s din,” and then, “maker please let me use it.”

as deep and jagged as the naming cuts you, you have never felt this hallowed a thing. him inside, and knowing what to call him, is unlike any bliss you’ve ever known. “din,” you wail.

he nods at your back. “yes, yes, din. let me use it.”

at last you’re nodding, crown of your head bobbing back on his body, and a torrential downpour of your name spits from his mouth, slides down his helmet and onto your spine. and the coming is unlike all the rest, a slow climb, a painful clawing that rips your flesh from the bone, but suddenly you’re both heaving with it, his warmth pumping through you and your gushing slick sliding out. for a moment you panic, worry for the windowsill, for the way it always ends. but your din. the panic catches on din and smokes away.

your limbs give out and you meet the mattress with your eyes closed, aching and a little empty, but mostly as satisfied as a desperate creature like yourself is capable. you’re reminded of the clank of his armor as he rights himself behind you. it’s so easy to forget it, what with how human he feels.

“din.”

the rattle of beskar stills. he returns your name, the real one again.

i love you, i loved you then, and you loved me. no. no, you think, it’s far too true to say. so instead: “will you come find me again?”

the bed dips as he sits on it and a gentle glove strokes through your hair. “always, cyar’ika. i’ll come back for you.”

and because you believe him, din, you do not lift your head to watch him place the credits and dissolve away. you’ll save the shine of him, you vow, for the next time he arrives for you. your mandalorian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[ssukidesu]

his happiness

Fandom: Inuyasha: A Feudal Fairy Tale

Pairing: Inukag

Rating: T

Inukag Week 2024 - Day 6: Sacrifice

Summary: (Sequel to day 5) Sango spies a suspicious mark on Kagome's neck, and conversations get a little uncomfortable after that.

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Read below the cut

Kagome released a pent-up sigh at the sensation of the warm water caressing her skin up to her neck. Sango, a few feet away, made a similar noise, and the two women giggled at their synchronized relaxation.

“This is nice,” the older woman said. “How long has it been—a month? I was getting tired of the chilly river.”

Kagome hummed. She felt a little guilty about it, as she’d benefited from the luxury of her own bathtub about two weeks prior—but her sentiment was still just as strong.

It was a little place tucked away from any roads or villages, about a stone’s throw from their last shard-related battle. It wasn’t too difficult of a fight, but it was a salamander demon who’d alternated between spitting fire and throwing mud at them. No one got terribly dirty, but it was bad enough to warrant a good, relaxing soak. While the sun was still up, the spring was theirs; the boys would take it after nightfall.

Kagome reclined her head against the stone behind them, recalling something Inuyasha had mumbled to her before they’d left.

Go get that wolf’s scent off of you. I can still smell it from yesterday.

Well, he had certainly seemed a little different since the previous evening—not that today had been the most advantageous for any sort of… rediscussion. At the very least, he’d taken a couple of liberties that made it very clear he was going to honor her request.

Don’t be such a stranger from now on.

Well, as for the first thing he did that morning in obedience to her request, he’d planted himself right behind her during breakfast and sprawled a leg out to corral her petite frame. Her back was all but pressed to his front, and, to her relief, the others kept their observations to themselves.

The second thing came soon after they broke camp; when it was time to set out, Inuyasha gripped the undersides of her thighs a little more… blatantly than he ever had; typically, he turned his hands so that his palms pointed outward and linked his fingers together to support her weight with minimal invasiveness. But this time, his palms and fingers came flush with her skin, right on the meat of her hamstrings. He must have heard her heart rate take up a violent pace, as he tilted his head to inspect her for any sign of concern. Their eyes met, and a shadow of self-consciousness began to invade his eyes—so she did the first thing that came to mind to reassure him: she tightened her hold around his neck, buried her face in his back, and muttered, “Hurry up, or we’ll get left behind.”

Sango interrupted Kagome’s musings: “Say, what’s that on your neck?”

She hoped Sango would interpret the immediate flush to her cheeks as only a result of the hot water.

And that brought her to the third liberty he’d taken: around lunch, when they’d stopped to eat at the place that would not ten minutes later turn into a battleground, Inuyasha had offered to scope out the area (he’d sensed there might have been a demon nearby). Before he left, and as Miroku, Sango, and Shippo were busy building a quick fire and throwing together a meal, Inuyasha took full advantage of the ponytail that was keeping Kagome’s hair off her neck, and gave her a not-so-gentle kiss there. He’d known to simultaneously smother her mouth with his hand—as she did emit quite the squeak at the sensation. It started as a kiss, then morphed into a firm suck, and then ended in one sharp nip. 

She wasn’t sure if he’d meant to draw a little blood—in fact, if she had to guess, his immediate wince and encore of another soft kiss was likely meant as an embarrassed apology. It hardly broke the skin, and it wasn’t bad enough to bleed any more than the initial puncture would draw to the surface, but it sealed her fate: there would be a mark. And it had all happened in less than ten seconds.

Well, Kagome couldn’t blame Sango for asking about it now; it was on full display due to her forgetfulness. 

Nonetheless, her fingers shot up to cover it, and the panicked expression likely didn’t help her case, either.

Sanyo’s eyes grew wide.

“Is that—!”

“Shhh!” Kagome lunged to cover Sango’s mouth with both hands, as their camp was hardly over the tree line, and a shout would likely be heard by Inuyasha and Shippo, at least.

Sango seemed to remember this a second later, and when she spoke again, it was in a shrill whisper: “Is that from Inuyasha?”

Kagome cringed, bringing her hands to cradle her own crimson face. 

“Surely it’s not from Kouga?!”

“No!” Kagome hissed in offense. “…It was Inuyasha.”

Sango proceeded to make a myriad of various conflicting expressions, some of shock, others of excitement, and still others of confusion and frustration.

Kagome sighed, urging her nerves to subside. “It was from earlier today.”

“When?!” 

“Does it matter?” Kagome cried, wanting nothing more than for this conversation to shift somewhere else. “We—we’re just…”

“Keeping secrets, that’s what!” Sango scolded, utterly scandalized.

“No, we’re not! Sango, this just started—we haven’t even talked about it since everything happened yesterday…”

“Yesterday?!” she yelled, and Kagome smacked her hands back over Sango’s mouth.

She returned their tones to a whisper. “Yes, yesterday. But please don’t act any different—I don’t even understand what’s happening, and I really don’t think he wants anyone else involved…”

She scoffed. “Of course he doesn’t. The idiot…”

Kagome couldn’t help but giggle at her tone, which was increasingly growing to that of an older sister.

Sango cleared her throat in an effort to compose herself, then she continued: “So, what? Are you two together now? What about…” As she trailed off, her expression froze, and she gave Kagome a rueful look, as if apologizing for something she didn’t even say.

“What about what?” Kagome pressed fearfully.

“You know…” she tried, but Kagome’s persistent silence forced her to spit it out. “What about Kikyo?”

Kagome flinched at the name. Admittedly, she hadn’t even thought about the priestess since yesterday’s events—and she wondered how such an important thing could slip through the cracks of her mind.

“Um, well…” she began, wringing her hands under the warm water and staring at the ripples on the surface. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, doesn’t Inuyasha still plan on dying with her? He hasn’t said otherwise, has he?”

Kagome’s stomach clenched. “I don’t…”

“Or does he still plan on using the Shikon Jewel to make himself a full demon? I can never keep up…” she said with no small amount of agitation. 

Sango realized after a moment that Kagome had fallen silent. Then, in a poor effort to take back the sour mood she’d just created, she brought her hands to Kagome’s shoulders.

“No, I’m sure it’s no problem at all, Kagome! I mean, none of us actually thinks he’ll leave us—leave you—when all this is over. Everyone knows he’s head over heels for you.”

Kagome offered a weak smile in return, but there was no mistaking it: there was now a distinct shadow over her demeanor that nothing Sango could say could fix. It was as if she’d pulled the curtain back during a nice little stage play to show that, no matter how kind the king had seemed, there was still a whole other person in a green box who was actually in control.

“It’s okay, Sango. You’re right.”

“Maybe you should just ask him about it...?”

“...Yeah.” Her voice was high, as if she was trying to appear cheerful, but it only sounded strained. 

Well, thought Sango solemnly, maybe the only way out of this is to go through.

She scooted closer to Kagome and brought a comforting arm around her back. She was taller, even when sitting, so the position brought Kagome into the crook of her arm. 

“Hey... you love him, don’t you?” she asked softly.

Kagome kept staring at the water, but her expression grew even more pained. “Like crazy,” she whispered.

“Well, then. When the time comes, and we’ve defeated Naraku and restored the jewel, what would you wish for, if you had the chance?”

Kagome took in the question one word at a time. “I’d want...”

She hesitated. Kagome’s first instinct was to say that she’d want to be able to be with Inuyasha forever—and this wouldn’t have been a lie. But was that really what she wanted to want the most? Would she be the kind of person she could approve of if she wished for something like that, when all other wishes were at her fingertips?

Kagome imagined herself as the best version of Kagome she could ever be. What would that version of her wish?

She’d be willing to sacrifice what she wanted. She’d want Inuyasha to be happy, more than anything. No matter what that meant.

Kagome’s lips formed into a sad smile. After a minute of thinking, she turned to Sango and said resolutely, “I’d wish for Inuyasha’s happiness.”

This wasn’t what Sango expected to hear her say, and she’d be lying if a part of her wasn’t bothered by it, but she forced her lips to perk upward. “Then I guess you’ll just have to trust that he knows what will make him the happiest.”

Dusk’s arrival grew imminent, and with it came the bleak prospect of a waning paradise that Kagome felt she’d gotten to cherish far too briefly.

When they left the spring and returned to the men, Inuyasha offered her a secret smile, and she did her best to return it. But she did not wait for their return before laying herself down to sleep.

As she drifted off, she wondered if the growing sound of the soul collectors’ singing was real or dreamed. 

[raymans-boyfriend]

Spoiling!

Gift for @ch4osm4ster !

AO3 LINK

Desc: Grand Minimus is spoiling you after a mission!

It was about 12 pm when you came back from your adventure. Hair is messy, bruises everywhere, your back aches. However it was all worth it to see your love, Minimus again after 3 weeks of fighting for the glade.

You step inside the stone castle, the rough grey naked walls being oddly comfortable under your fingers. The cold air enveloped you, it felt like a tranquilizing hug, but it wasn't unwelcome.

Meanwhile, Minimus was waiting for you in his robe. He had a warm bath prepared for you, with only the best of soaps of course. He had also gotten a grand meal cooked, its smells filling up the throne room, with your love sat at top of it.

"Make sure my love is only served the best of the best, satisfactory is a necessity when it comes to the sleeping quarters! They are profoundly fatigued, i am certain!" Minimus demanded a Lum, his voiced raised.

"Ok sir!" The fly went off to set up the bedroom just as you walked into the room.

"Ah, there is my beloved!" He threw himself off his chair to kiss your hand. Your body jerks slightly, falling on top of the velvet red carpet. Minimus realizes how he was maybe too forward.

"I apologize profoundly, Y/N.. i ought to respect my beloved's boundaries." He coughs, pulling away slightly.

He leads you to the dining room, where the most delicious meal you have ever seen. Your mouth drools at the lavish feast, he has made sure to include all your favorites.

"Now, darling, settle down, I am assured that your seat is comfortable and snug. Exclusive for my sweetheart." He kisses your cheek as he sat you down.

He sits on the luxurious chair next to you. As you eat, he looks at you lovingly. His eye brows lowering as his smiles widened, hes clearly so in love with you.

------

Minimus walks you to the grand bathroom, it was honestly ridiculous with how over top the whole thing was. The whole area had a mermaid and ocean vibe, the sinks and tub being in the shape of shells.

Speaking of the bathtub, the thing was made out of the finest marble, the faucet was sold yellow gold and it was filled to the brim with bubbles.

"It is my duty to guarantee that you, my love, are cleansed in a enjoyable fashion-" The king suddenly stops, his face becoming a deeper shade of blue.

"Not in THAT sense-"

You laugh, a bit flustered yourself. You knew his fancy English would kick him in the ass one day or the other.

"Anyhow, i shall be purging you of all the wounds and grime that has ended up on your... exquisite frame darling."

He was gonna bathe you, with his own 2 hands.

You gulp.

This was going to be something.

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

He carried you this time to his bedroom. You were surprised about being man handled by an actual king, the king of the Teensie's no less.

Minimus' room was just as ostentatious as the lavatory. The walls were made out of deep brown planks, with hand crafted decor sprinkled into them. The only piece of furniture in the room was a bed, made out of gold.

You were placed into the bed, and you slowly sunk into the soft mattress. You have never felt something so soft in your life. The sheets are a deep shade of red, like the love Minimus felt for you.

Speaking of which, he laid down next to you and guided your head to his chest. He gently caressed your head with his fingers, the long blue limbs guiding you to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my love."

[amindofonesowne]

You Okay, Baby?

Aaron Hotchner x Reader (You)

sub aaron hotchner, mommy kink, established relationship, hand jobs, bathtubs, romantic fluff, light angst 1.3k words, smut!

Summary: Aaron's exhausted after a stretch of never-ending cases.

You booked a fancy, weekend getaway for the two of you at an expensive city suite, but all Aaron needs right now is for Mommy to take care of everything.

It’s the end of a long month and your boyfriend is completely exhausted. The case had only wrapped up an hour ago, at eight in the evening, and your (re)rescheduled romantic dinner might not even survive the entrées considering the way he had to be guided into getting his order right, barely responding with a mumble of sounds nice at the waiter’s suggestions.

“Baby,” you say, sliding your hand across the table to touch at his knuckles, with half-healed scars from an incident he hasn’t yet divulged to you. “You okay?”

Aaron looks up at that, brows pushing into a shape of soft guilt—his eyes are clearly tired, the lines on his face marking all the cumulative hours of sleep missed over the past few weeks.

“Yes,” he says—lies—to your face. But you know he means well, so you offer a gentle smile. He only ever wants to make you happy, after all.

“We don’t have to stay for the whole meal,” you say, and he opens his mouth to argue, but you continue. “If you’re tired, we can get some of this food sent up to our suite, and anything else you want, too. Hot drinks, candles and a bath? We could even ask the string quartet to play on our balcony.”

After all, you are in a luxury hotel in New York—anything is possible. Especially with your well-deserved end-of-year bonus and your shiny new credit cards. Aaron wanted more than anything to celebrate with you, but seeing your boyfriend relaxed, well-fed and well-rested would be more than enough for you.

Aaron smiles, bashful. “I’m… not sure how the band would take to seeing me in the bath, but that all sounds nice.”

Aaron’s still not entirely used to all of this—the indulgence, the gifts, the attention. He was reluctant to accept it at first (more out of discomfort than displeasure), but after long cases like this, there was no point in denying one’s desires. 

“I’m sure they would have no complaints,” you say, finishing up your flute of champagne, “although I’d much rather have you all to myself.”

There’s that sparkle in his eyes. 

As you walk into your suite, you notice the way Aaron hovers tentatively by the door, glancing at the sheer size of the room; your cases are neatly displayed in the living room, which connects to the stone-tiled bathroom with see-through glass panels. The bedroom is situated behind through immaculately carved mahogany sliding doors. 

As you start to run the bath, you watch in the reflection as Aaron quietly takes off his tie by the door and lets out the longest exhale. Following that, his shoes, his watch and his belt goes. You watch as he brings his things to the bedroom; after setting his things down on the king-sized bed, he simply stands there. 

Bad case, you conclude. Neither of you speak about work much, which was an agreement both of you made at the beginning of your relationship. Both of you agreed it was for the best, and what Aaron needs in times like this is for you to accept him as he is, silent scars and all.

You watch as Aaron wanders over towards you in the bath, kneeled over as you’re testing the temperature of the water. The waters are warm and the milky orange bath soap already smells divine—you’re almost envious that you wouldn’t be able to fit inside while Aaron is there. 

“Get inside, baby.”

You allow yourself a long and luxurious shower as your overtired boyfriend relaxes in the bath. By the time you come out in your robe, you can tell that he’s been waiting for you. He reaches out for your hand, drawing you in closer for a kiss as you kneel back down on the edge of the bath to meet his lips, warm and hungry. 

Your fingers lock into his, and he brings another hand, splashing out from the water, to cup the back of your head and pull you in for more. He murmurs a quiet thank you, baby in between your open-mouthed kisses, wet and sweet with the lingering taste of his lemon and honey tea. 

“I—need you tonight, Mommy,” he says, as your hand slips under the waters; you run your hand down his body, the soft hairs on his chest, down to his torso and thighs, until you find his very hard erection underneath.

You smile sweetly. “Don’t worry, baby. Mommy will always take care of you.”

He groans at that, as you grip harder and start stroking; tilting his head back, there’s something so utterly sexy about the way this large, intimidating man completely melts under your touch every time. From the second you met him, you knew that he’d never had anyone treat him like this—spoiling him to death, making sure that he didn’t have to worry or think about anything else whenever he was with you, it was as gratifying for you as it was for him. 

“Have you not been taking care of yourself, Aaron? When Mommy’s away, tell me what you do for yourself,” you ask, stroking harder still. 

He responds in a weak grunt. 

“I’m sorry, Aaron, I can’t hear you?”

“Mm, nothing, ‘m sorry Mommy,” Aaron mumbles and writhes under your touch, eyes screwed shut. 

“Why is that, baby?”

He whines harder as your grip on his dick tightens hard around the base, squeezing the air out of his chest and throat, gasping for more. 

“Answer me, baby.”

“I—” Aaron tries, groans, then tries again in a weak voice, “I—I have to take care of my team. The case, everyone, they need me, and I… don’t have time for myself.”

He opens his eyes and looks at you, glancing right back with a forgiving look. You play with his dick a little more, thumbing at the tip and stroking all the way, as all he can do is watch, mesmerised. 

“You know that’s not the answer I want to hear, Aaron.”

He looks guilty. “I know, but it’s the truth.”

“I know,” you say gently. “We can talk about it later. You what Mommy thinks, right? You’re a very good boy who deserves good things. If it was up to Mommy, I’d take care of you like this every day and every night. Whatever my good boy wants, Mommy will always give it to you.”

He nods, if not reluctantly; you kiss him to remind him how much you love him, and at that, Aaron gains the confidence to answer properly. “Yes, Mommy. I always try so hard to be a good boy. I wish I could have my Mommy take care of me all the time.”

The confession seems to wash a wave of relief over him, as he closes his eyes once more to let you take over. You brought a couple of toys with you, but he looks so relaxed at the moment. You don’t want to move him, or make him work any more than he has to.

So you bring him to orgasm as hard and as fast as you can, delighting in the stuttering moans that fall from his lips, his body trembling under your touch—you have to press down on his shoulder with your free hand to stop more water from spilling out. You can’t stop staring at his face as he comes, because Aaron is beyond gorgeous when he falls apart, moaning your name and groaning like an animal, and you never want to miss a single second.

Eventually, you pull your hand out of the bath, splashing away the mixture of cum, water and soap before running your fingers through his hair. You stare at each other, sated and soft—you’ve been so focused on the task at hand you’ve barely even clocked on to the fact that you’re also incredibly horny now, but Aaron seems to notice.

“That was exactly what I needed,” Aaron says, grateful and firm. His eyes are trailing across your body, as he pulls open your robe carefully, tracing his wet thumbs over your nipples. “Now tell me what you need tonight.”

His eyes darken as you feel the air around you getting thick—you breathe in once, collecting yourself, and then proceed to outline exactly what you want.

[jpitha]

Dreams of Hyacinth 36

First / Previous / Next

The Royal Dawn - or rather the Royal Palace - was impressive. The front desk personnel bowed low for Nick as he entered. He still had a hard time with that, but accepted the bow. City took Nick around and showed him Melody's rooms, now his and Eastern's as well as the dining halls, and the other features. In the large bathroom, Nick stopped in front of the massive tub. It looked like it was made of a stone material, almost like marble. He looked at City.

"This is quite the bath, it's huge."

City's crest wiggled just a bit, like a chuckle. "Melody loved the bath. She told me once that it was her favorite part of the whole Royal Dawn.

Nick nodded. It made sense. Even on huge Hyacinth, bathtubs were a luxury. In space, liquid water is precious. To be able to lavishly run a bath that can comfortably hold three or four people could be seen as a wild extravagance. Nick made a note to take a bath with Eastern when she got back tonight.

"It's odd." Nick looked at City after the tour was complete. I never knew much about Melody, but Eastern loved her and was a big fan and here we are, standing in her rooms."

"Your rooms now, Emperor." Sound of the City corrected him gently.

"Yes, well, I'm still getting used to that part." Nick gestured his palm out and down, like he was trying to push something down and out of the way. "Outside of the Reach, the only thing that Eastern and I have gotten is attacked. Royalty out there means a large target on your head."

City sighed. "Emperor-"

Nick interrupted. "Please. Call me Nick. I understand my title and what's been granted, but really, I'm Nick. I'm just some guy from Parvati."

City stomped her foot once and her feathered hand shot out, pointing at Nick. "No, Emperor, you are not just 'some guy.' You are Emperor of the Holy Imperial Systems, and you and your partner need to accept that's what has happened. You can't go around being self depreciating about the situation, it's unbecoming. I have a feeling that part of the reason everyone is trying to attack you is that you aren't acting like the powerful person you are. You are royal now. Act like it." City stopped herself and took a large breath in and out. Nick noticed how her feathers shimmered in the light as she did it. "I apologize Emperor, for speaking out of turn, but I felt like you needed to hear it." She looked pointedly at Nick.

Nick realized this was a test. "I accept your apology, Sound of the City. Thank you for being comfortable enough to speak your mind. I will ruminate on your words while I wait for Eas-our Empress to return."

City stared at him for just a moment longer than was comfortable, turned on her heel and strode out of the apartment.

Nick collapsed into a comfortable couch facing a large window and sighed.

She's right you know. You keep trying to not be Royal. Either give up the mantle officially or be Emperor.

"It's not like I have lots of practice at this you know. Before, I was a petty thief."

And then you signed on with Eastern and Selkirk, got cybernetics installed, were introduced to Us and now have the means to rule the galaxy. How we grow and change.

"But that's just it. I don't." Nick thumped the arm of the couch for emphasis. "I'm a guy who can make people do what I say when I talk weirdly, the love of my life can do it too and I hate doing it. The few times I did it I enslaved an entire race of sapient beings. I undid it - hopefully - but still, I don't like the power this gives me. I don't want to turn into a despot, and yet it seems like you're tailor made to turn me into one."

There was a long pause. Nick began to worry that the Nanites were mad, but then realized that was kind of a wild thing to worry about.

This is true. We've had millennia of experience, and we've found that a single galaxy spanning ruler expands our reach into your dimension easier than trying to maintain control over thousands of independent polities.

"You're steering Eastern and me into being despots because it's easier?" Nick couldn't hide his tone even if he wanted to.

Humans are not the only creature that exist who like to try the easy thing first. Additionally and possibly most importantly, it's worked.

Nick sighed. "But, I don't want to be a despot."

What do you want, Nicholas North?

It was a mental conversation. He still opened his mouth to speak, and stopped. Just what did he want? He knew better than to just give a flippant answer off the cuff, so he stopped and really thought about it.

He thought about Eastern. Holding her in his arms, taking a bath together, making love, laughing, eating together, enjoying just being around each other.

He thought about Selkirk. Hugging and stroking her fur, making love with her, with her and Eastern, their long conversations about the nature of K'laxi and Humans, trying her foods, meeting her friends.

He thought about Hyacinth. How it wasn't home until he had friends to visit.

He thought about his Parents. How they always loved and supported him, how they saw the best in him, how they always tried to do what they could to give him the best opportunities.

Interesting. This entire time, you haven't thought about power. You've thought about the people in your life and what they mean to you. Nicholas North you may not realize it, but you are more suited to be Emperor than you realize. You do not want power, you want to help people. Everything you've done, everything you've signed up for has been to help out those you love. We will admit that you're a bit of a doormat about it sometimes, but we see the love there.

Nick scoffed, but he smiled when he did it. "A doormat?"

We got the idiom from your own brain. You know what we mean. Nick, you love people. Don't think about war. Don't think about Raaden and what she's doing. Think about the people of the Reach. Think about people on Hyacinth. How could you help them if you were in charge? How can you help them, now that you're in charge. That's what Melody wanted to do you know. She wanted to help.

You can help.

Just then, Eastern walked in. She saw Nick sprawled out on the couch, head tipped back and eyes closed, and she silently walked over to him. She flopped onto the couch next to him and snuggled up under his outstretched arm. "Hey Hon, caught you napping" She giggled.

Nick smiled without opening his eyes. "Actually, I was talking with the Nanites."

"Oh? What about?"

"What I want."

Eastern yawned and snuggled in tighter. Muffled by Nick's uniform, she asked "What do you want?"

Nick curled his arm around Eastern and started stroking the nape of her neck gently, under her hair. "You, mostly. Selkirk too. Friends, family, calm, fun, good food. Contentment. Peace."

"Mmmm, s'nice" Eastern's voice was sounding sleepy as her breathing slowed. "I want that too."

"Yeah." Nick bent his head down and kissed the top of her head." Too bad we have all this power and the Voice and people after us and now the Reach expecting us to help them."

"It's not so bad, really" Eastern yawned deeply. "We can use this power to help them. Maybe others too. It's not like everyone on Hyacinth doesn't need help. The other High Mars orbitals too. Hell, all of Sol. The whole of Colonized Space even."

Nick nodded. "That's what the Nanites said too. They said that I thought like Melody."

He could feel her grin. "Oh? Well it sounds like I picked the right hero to worship when I was a kid. I've got a partner just like her."

Nick stopped stroking the back of her neck. "Come on Eastern, Let's take a bath. Melody had a positively gigantic tub here and I want to try it out."

She yawned and stood. "A bath? Lux."

Nick brought her to the bathroom and when Eastern saw the bath she squealed and immediately took off her clothes. Nick puzzled over the faucets for a moment before figuring them out and while the tub filled, he took off his clothes too. Nick knew Eastern like her showers hot, so he set the temperature just outside his comfort and slowly lowered himself in. Meanwhile Eastern practically jumped in and splashed him gently with hot water. "Hurry it up, your delicate bits need some toughening up if this water is too hot" she said, laughing.

Nick eventually lowered himself in all the way, and sighed contentedly. After a moment, Eastern leaned over, kissed Nick deeply and straddled him. The heat of the water combined with her weight caused nature to take his course. He looked up at her and raised an eyebrow.

"You're the one who decided to take a bath, now you face the consequences." Eastern said, grinding her hips.

After, she climbed back down and snuggled up against Nick again. He looked down and over at her. She was back to being drowsy. "Come on hon, let's go to bed. I don't think we should fall asleep in the tub."

Eastern yawned and sat up. "Yeah, good idea. I'm going to shower first though, I'm all gooey."

Nick laughed.

While they slept, Nick dreamed.

Nick was back on Parvati, visiting one of the traveling amusement parks that came to the cities every year. They worked to time the visits to coincide with local holidays to boost attendance. Luckily, the cities on Parvati had more than enough holidays to cover the traveling amusement parks.

Nick was 12 or 13 and riding the teacups with his parents. This was about as exiting of a ride as they would do. Nick still was at an age when he liked to be flung around in all different directions at a high velocity, so when he went on those rides, they'd stand at the exit and watch. His father usually smiling, his mother's face creased with worry.

His father turned to him. "My son, it seems like you are finally deciding what you want. This is good. I was starting to get worried."

"Starting!" His mother scoffs. "He's been a basket of worry ever since you were declared Emperor. He was worried you'd be a despot. I told him that was nonsense and he had nothing to worry about. Like usual, I was right."

Nick's father smiled. "She was right. You are working towards using your power to help others. This is right. We are proud of you, son."

His mother nodded. "You still need to find Selkirk though. Do not forget about her in all of this effort."

When Nick spoke, it was with his voice currently. It felt odd to be in the body of his early teenage self but speak with his current voice. Dream logic he guessed. "I haven't forgotten her. She's with Raaden. She gave her a ship to command." He looked down at his feet. "She thinks we betrayed her."

His mother crossed her arms. It was impressive to see as they whirled around in the teacups. "She just doesn't know both sides of the story. You only have to reach her and explain what happened. She will understand."

"But what if Raaden used her Voice on her? What if she made her hate us?"

His mother scoffed. "Love will transcend that. Go to her. Show her you still love her. Rescue her. It will fall into place."

Nick awoke early in the morning, the Reach's lights still the dim of artificial morning. Nick got out of bed carefully, making sure he didn't wake Eastern, and padded back to the couch. He watched the Reach rise and awaken from his seat in his palace quarters.

When Eastern woke up, they sat together for breakfast. They had asked the staff to bring them a selection of local foods that were popular in the morning, and took turns trying them. None of them were familiar to Nick or Eastern, but they were all tasty. The staff even managed to find some coffee and brought along a small carafe.

Nick savored his coffee while Eastern ate. After a moment he said "What were you working on with the Nanites while you were on the Throne yesterday?"

Eastern quickly swallowed some of the food. She was ravenous. "Oh, I asked about building a Gate. They showed me the plans and how to program the printers. We're building one now, it should be ready in a week or so."

Nick raised his eyebrows. "Why though?"

"Well, the Nanites specifically said they're looking for someone to make more Gates, and we don't have one in Sol, and also..."

"What is it?"

She shook her head. "No, it's silly. It won't work anyway."

Nick put his cup down. "Come on Eastern, you know I won't laugh, no matter how silly it is."

She sighed. "Okay. You know how the Nanites told us that the Gates are all connected to a Gate in another dimension where the Nanites are? I wondered if the Gates can reach into a different dimension. Like say, one were Melody was still alive, and we could request help."

Nick blinked. He took another sip of coffee to hide his surprise. "And? Did the Nanites say we could?"

"They... weren't sure. They said nobody had thought to try it before. The hard part isn't reaching the other dimension apparently. It's picking the correct one."

"How do we do that?" Nick took a bite of breakfast. It really was good. Some kind of grain dish.

"I don't know. The Nanites don't know either. They said they'd think about it and let us know." Eastern shrugged.

"Well, I guess there's no sense in worrying about it now then. That can be a later problem. For now, let's see what we can do to help the Reach. From there, we can expand out. I bet the Jovian stations and others in the OPA could use some help. Even if it's just us doing some light smuggling to get resources in. Supposedly trade hasn't stopped with Raaden in charge, but some things are a lot harder to get."

Eastern nodded. "I like that. Lead on."

Remembering his dream, Nick stopped. "We should also see if we can hire someone to reach Selkirk. Let her know we're still alive and that we're coming for her. Let her know we still love her."

"Do you think that's wise, Nick? She really sounded like she hated us before"

Nick was emphatic. "We still love her. She deserves to know that. What she does with the info is up to her."

Eastern nodded. "I'll ask City if she knows anyone at the Reach who has more experience with Sol. If anyone knows, she will."

[swevene]

the kingdom of Broerec. Brocéliande Castle

This castle is quite a distances from the capitol of the kingdom. It is also names for the forest it is within. It's unknown to most people and is meant to be a very private and hidden castle for the royal family. They will come here in time of danger such as war or disease. Only a very selected few are permitted her under strict secrecy when working here. This is where Prince Cyneric was sent as an infant when war broke out after his father's death and his birth. He has lived here his entire life. After the curse stories surround the kingdom of a haunted castle with a beast within. Some people seek out this mysterious castle out of curiosity or to prove they are brave. Rumors are abound many of which aren't false and greatly exaggerated.

Also pre and post curse the castle is very elegant, it's bright, it has statues of cherubs. It's absolutely beautiful and break taking. During the curse all of this is changed. It's dark the statues look like monsters and demons.

*** the images are from pinterest it's very difficult to find pictures that fit what i want. usually i try to use other sites but it's the best i could do. maybe later i can do better. and while these pictures are what i like they are simply inspirations the reality of it may be different as is the color scheme it would blend much better than the inspos i'm giving below.

entrance.

The entrance says all about the castle. It's very old and I can see it having stone stair case that leads up to it from the castle. Likely having huge iron gates that surrounded the entire castle as well. The door into it is a bit simple and wooden but very heavy and strong. It's lasted generations. The entryway is breath taking. I like to imagine grand staircase that leads to various parts of the castle. As well as a couple doors on the ground floor that lead to kitchens, dinning halls, various rooms.

ballroom.

No castle would be complete without a ballroom. This one is grand and has a balcony that overlooks the gardens. The doors are very large white and gold theme for the entire area. Candles and torches spread out to allow plenty of light that is often reflected on the shinning floor and walls. It's warm and cozy but also very empty with how large it is. There are several instruments like piano, harp, and violins in one corner of the room.

dinning hall.

It's very large fitting the rest of the castle's aesthetic. It has chandeliers a large long table with many chairs. It was meant to keep a very large family. It does have a couple couches for sitting when you first enter with various paintings and a fireplace. An open archway leads to the dinning table and behind that is a couple doors which leads to the back kitchens. The back kitchens are normally only seen by those who are employed by the royal family to cook and clean.

library / study hall.

Of course there has to be a grand library! Two stories tall with an assortment of books. Since it's several centuries old I like to imagine each generation of the royal family will add to it and sometimes books will be gifted to them or scholars. On rare occasions I like to imagine scholars of the kingdom will be granted permission to enter the castle and library for studies. There is also plenty of desks and couches to study or just read for the fun of it spread throughout the library.

guest rooms

Each room is different but all have luxurious beds and decorations. They may even have a room for bathtubs and such depending on when each room was created and added too. Some of these rooms were even for various members of the royal family. Some could be aunts, uncles, cousins that have their own room. As a result some rooms maybe have specific hobbies like a piano, a painting station, a desk for writing, and so on.

observatory.

Located in one of the highest room in the castle you can find an old telescope. It is also littered with papers and books as well as ink blotches. One of Cyneric's tutors basically lived here before the curse. The ceiling is almost entirely made of clear glass so the telescope can be used. There is also crafted artistic glass around the room and torches to bring plenty of light no matter the time of day.

garden.

One of the most important areas of the castle to Cyneric. The garden is very well maintained and even members of the royal family have taken a fondness and even help care for it at times. The rose garden is special and is gated away from the rest of the garden. There is also fountains and bush hedge mazes within as well as plenty of benches to rest or just enjoy the outside.

hallways.

The halls are very grand as they lead to various rooms and important locations. They are decorated with statues, small tables with decor, and paintings. There are certain hallways that display nothing but members of the royal family some of which are hundreds of years old. It's really a grand gallery to see how styles in all sorts of ways have changed over the years. Only a few hallways are essentially empty but still have a beauty to them with the structures like archways including the stairs.

there are plenty more rooms and locations that i could get into but for now i think this is a very good summary of what is included! if i did add any i will be sure to add an updated post c:

[ask-the-koopa-family]

Hey i hope you like my story

((Btw i got inspired from "loneful" when it saying about brushing bowser shell))

**"Days in Bowser's Castle: The Koopa King's Routine"**

In the heart of the Koopa Kingdom, there stood a grand castle with towering spires and boiling lava surrounding it. Inside this castle, Bowser, the King of the Koopas, began his day with a routine filled with power and luxury.

**Morning**

That morning, sunlight streamed through the large window in Bowser's bedroom, waking him from a deep sleep. Bowser yawned widely, growling softly, then rose from his large, comfortable bed. He reached for the golden bell beside his bed and rang it, summoning his loyal servants.

**Bath and Grooming**

The Koopa servants, dressed in green uniforms with royal badges, quickly arrived carrying a large bathtub filled with warm, fragrant water and bubbles. Bowser stepped into the tub, the warm water relaxing his large muscles and sturdy shell.

After a few minutes of soaking, the servants began scrubbing his shell with large brushes designed specifically for the task. They made sure every corner of his shell was clean and shiny, removing any itchiness and dirt. Bowser sat quietly, enjoying the treatment that made him feel refreshed and comfortable.

**Royal Breakfast**

After his bath, Bowser donned his red royal robe adorned with white fur. He walked to the castle's grand dining hall, where a long table was laden with a variety of delicious dishes. There were roasted meats, large eggs, fresh fruits, and warm drinks.

Bowser sat on the throne-like chair at the head of the table, and the servants began serving the food on golden plates. He ate his breakfast heartily, occasionally speaking with Kamek, his loyal advisor who was always present to offer advice and the latest information about the kingdom's affairs.

**Ruling the Kingdom**

After breakfast, Bowser headed to his throne room. There, he sat on a large throne made of stone and cushioned with soft red pillows. Kamek stood by his side, holding a stack of scrolls containing reports from various parts of the kingdom.

Bowser began his workday by reviewing reports on the activities of the Koopa troops, infrastructure development in various regions, and plans for attacking the Mushroom Kingdom, led by his nemesis, Mario. He issued firm orders to his generals and advisors, ensuring that all plans proceeded smoothly.

**Training and Entertainment**

Once the kingdom's affairs were settled, Bowser usually spent time training. He headed to the large training room inside the castle, where various equipment and obstacles were set up. Bowser trained his strength and skills, ensuring he remained in top condition to face his enemies.

Sometimes, Bowser invited the Koopa troops to train with him, giving direct instructions and demonstrating effective combat techniques. This was also a moment for Bowser to showcase his strength and inspire his soldiers.

**Evening**

As night fell, Bowser typically hosted a grand dinner in the castle's dining hall. He invited advisors, generals, and other important figures to converse and enjoy a meal together. This was a time for Bowser to relax and plan new strategies for the days ahead.

After the dinner, Bowser returned to his room. Before bed, he often stood on his balcony, looking out over the vast kingdom and contemplating its future. Though his life was filled with challenges and battles, Bowser was always determined to protect his kingdom and defeat any enemies who dared to stand in his way.

With a sense of satisfaction and hope, Bowser finally lay down in his bed, ready to start a new day with renewed vigor and strength. His daily routine might be filled with power and responsibility, but that was the life of a true Koopa King.

(Okay just that all the story that i made)

((I can totally see Bowser's routine like that!))

[stobotnikworld]

After All, He Deserves It - Ch 4 Teaser

Title: After All, He Deserves It - A Tickle Kink fic Rating: M Genre: Romance, Hurt/comfort Link: AO3

Follow the official fanfic hashtag here

--

Thank you for being so patient guys! The next couple of chapters are nearly here.

There has been a lot of writing going on, but most of the work has been shifted around and saved for various chapters, so hopefully you should see a few updates coming your way soon!

For now, here is a teaser of chapter 4. Dr Robotnik is going to start spoiling Stone rotten from this point forth! *_*

In this chapter Robotnik is worrying himself sick about Stone, his bad dreams and why he keeps going for late night walks without telling him.

He wonders if he is missing home, and plans to finally tackle the issue that night, but wants to be gentle and spoil him rotten first.

So he runs the most luscious spa-bath for him, decorated with romantic candles, exotic flowers and scents to remind him of home, with rose petals trailing from the bathroom to the front door. (Spoiler: Massages, cuddles, romantic kisses, silliness, tickling...)

---

ASMR

The bath water ran hot and deep. The luscious loud pouring, rushing, wallowing and rippling sounds, as the whirlpool jets filled the giant wooden beech-coloured bathtub, transported him in blissful fantasy to nature-reclaimed island spas.

The perfumed bath soaks and oils dropped, dived, swam and glided, flipped and rolled luxuriously in pastel circles and forked rivers. Much like Koi fish, mini galaxies, drip paintings, or tropical undergrowth spreading rapidly in hot climates.

The gentle scents of the Middle East (and South Asia), enticing rare flowers and juicy fruit liberated his senses, as the cosy, sensual, musky and uplifting perfumes mixed, rose and dispersed.

Soft ruby-red rose petals floated on the waters surface lovingly, scattered artfully and delectably, their sweet smell and perfectly preserved dresses 'mini ethereal slices of home.' Two fuchsia-pink and ice-white lotus flowers danced, and spun calmly round each other like Apsara (Indian faeries, or cloud and water spirits.)

A mixture of cherry blossom petals and roses led the way to the bathroom, from the bedroom, and down the beech-coloured stairs leading to the cabin door.

Richly-coloured trails of hand-painted mandala tea-lights containing 'Midsummer's Night', flickered mysteriously around the bathroom. Spiritually. Protectively.

The attractive 'experience' had been comprised of citrus, herbaceous, woody, bergamot, lime, lavender, pine floral sage, cedarwood, vetiver, juniper berry, clary sage and moss. Otherwise described as 'an intoxicating and masculine blend of musk, patchouli, sage and mahogany cologne' - or Lynx, to those unfamiliar with this particular Yankee Candle.

Small vases of orchids and lilies, and bowls of potpourri scented with hop, lavender, jasmine and sandalwood posed elegantly in the four corners of the now-spa room. Each glass centrepiece was wrapped with tiny sparkling green leafy fairy lights, and had fuchsia rose petals and cherry blossoms scattered around the bases.

Pretty diffusers scented with Thyme, Mint and Eucalyptus puffed dreamily into the warm Spring night and, as the window was open letting in the scent of fresh grass and rain, a lovely breeze perfected the atmosphere.

--

[barbex]

There was an ask by @potatowitch for @dadrunkwriting. I know it was there because I copied the ask into my doc AND I have the email

Do you see that? Where did this ask go?

Anyway, I wrote for this, yes I did. Fenders fic, you know the deal, babes.

---

Anders blinks against the sunlight, clueing him in to where he is. The light is never this bright in Darktown. The softness of the pillow under his head is another clue. Anders looks at the spot next to him. Fenris sleeps, his face pressed so deep into the pillow that Anders fears for his oxygen intake. 

Anders throws his blanket aside and sits up, careful not to make the bed creak. He looks at Fenris, how he sleeps like a cat, curled up on himself. He holds a blanket tight around himself, as if he's afraid that someone could take it from him and isn't that a sobering thought? Anders stands up and tip-toes over to the bathroom. 

Fenris has a bathroom, a luxurious cavern of blue tiles and dwarven plumbing. Anders has never in his life seen anything like it and he may spend more time in it than he actually needs. By the time he steps out of it, he is clean and smells of the fancy soap he found. He stretches his arms over his head and throws his head back with a sigh, feeling like a new person.

And collides with Fenris. 

Fenris' forehead connects resoundingly with Anders' chin. 

"Ouch, Andraste's tits!" Anders feels along his jaw. The crack sounded like his whole skull shattered. 

"Venhedis." Fenris holds his head and seems to wobble on his feet. 

"Shit, let me see." Anders moves Fenris' hand away and checks his forehead. There is already a swelling bump. "I'm sorry, I got you bad. May I heal that?"

Fenris looks at him, frowning. "Yes, you don't have to ask."

"I do, actually." Anders lets healing flow from his hand and soon the bump on Fenris' forehead recedes. "There, that should feel better now." He moves his hands to his own face and pushes healing into the bones. The ringing in his ears finally stops. 

Fenris touches his forehead, gently poking at the bump, and nods. "Much better, thank you." 

They stand close to each other, still. If Anders leans just a little forward, he could kiss Fenris. But they don't do that. They have sex, great sex, and Anders even stays afterwards now, but that's it. They don't kiss without fucking. They don't spend time with each other. They don't pretend to be more. Nobody knows that they fuck sometimes, and why should they? They are not.. like that.

Downstairs, the sound of the front door opening and closing echoes through the empty hall. They both freeze.

"Fenris?" Hawke's voice, and judging by the sounds of the stairs creaking, she's already coming up. 

Anders steps over to the chairs and grabs his coat and boots. "I'm just gonna wait in the bathroom," he whispers. Closing the door behind him, he just catches Fenris' look, but he can't decipher his expression. Anger? Confusion? Whatever it is, he will not embarrass Fenris in front of Hawke, he will wait for her to leave and nobody will ever know that he was here.

Sitting on the edge of the stone bathtub, he pulls on his boots. He can hear Hawke speak, and Fenris' short answers, but he can't make out what they say. These walls are thick. Good for hiding, bad for spying. Not that he would. Fenris is his own man, Anders has no right to listen into his life.

The door opens and Fenris steps inside, leaving the door open behind him. 

"Is she gone?"

Fenris frowns. "Why do you want to know?"

"Then I can leave." Anders puts on his coat. "I can sneak out and nobody will know that I was here."

Something strange happens on Fenris' face. "Is that what you wish?"

Anders has to laugh. "My wish? My wishes are not the point here, don't worry, I will not embarrass you." He tries to walk out, but Fenris steps in his way.

"What do you wish?"

They stand too close again. So close that he can smell Fenris, recognising the scent of the same soap he used. He could slide his fingers into Fenris' white hair, and yes, he could kiss him. If they kissed at all.

Another laugh breaks free from him, but it doesn't sound like one. "Don't ask me for my wishes. Apart from freedom for mages... don't ask."

Fenris still looks at him, his eyes green pools to drown in. Anders can only stare.

They kiss. Anders doesn't know who started it. But they kiss. Gently, soft brushes of their lips, a dip of tongue. It's not hungry and desperate and so much more intimate than anything they did the night before.

Fenris moves, kissing along his jaw towards his ear. He speaks, and Anders' knees go weak.

"Must I be the one who says it?"

"I... I don't know what you mean." Anders has to hold on to Fenris' shoulders as Fenris' lips brush over the shell of his ear.

"I don't want you to leave. I don't want you to hide. I cannot imagine this world without you, and I don't want to." 

Anders rips his head away, leaning back to look at Fenris. "But... I'm a mage!"

Fenris touches his cheek. "And you always ask."

"But you're amazing and I'm just me..." Anders wipes his thumb over Fenris' lips. "I'm just me. You could do so much better."

Fenris shakes his head and takes Anders' hand. "Come. Hawke is waiting for us."

"For us?"

"Yes." Fenris pulls him forward and keeps holding his hand as they go down the stairs. 

Hawke looks at their hands, then at their faces, grins, and nods. "Let's go, boys."

Fenris keeps holding Anders' hand until a pack of stupid bandits breaks them apart. But even then, Anders just can't stop grinning.

[rebeca-r]

One of my OCs as a Hogwarts professor.

Personality: Sarcastic. Sassy. Ambitious, yet lazy. Cunning. Intelligent.

Wand: Black walnut and phoenix feather. Unyielding.

Likes: Travelling. Food. Booze. Coffee.

Dislikes: Idiots.

Character background in a nutshell: After graduating from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry she met Isaac Blackthorne (another OC of mine), a defector from Fog Serpents, a gang of dark wizards. As the Fog Serpents pursued him, they escaped together and wandered through Europe. Along the way he taught her everything he knew about dark magic, just to be sure she survives at any costs. Eventually they found him and killed him, which left her heartbroken. She continued to travel on her own, because she wasn't sure, if the Fog Serpents are after her too. When she decided to return to Britain years later, she tried her luck and applied for a job at her former school.

"Honestly, it's tying me up being a professor at Hogwarts. Everything has its own rules and order I am not used to, but there's something about that luxury at Hogwarts Castle. After all, where in London would I get a home with a bathroom like this? A stone bathtub where I can bathe in fragrant foam and drink wine made by house elves! In London, one is glad to have no cockroaches, rats and mould."

I love her cup! 😆

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