#marble bathtub surround

[fymikeness]

Traditional Bathroom Large elegant master gray tile and stone tile marble floor bathroom photo with white cabinets, marble countertops and blue walls

[wonkrups]

Bathroom - Contemporary Bathroom A mid-sized contemporary master bathroom remodel with flat-panel cabinets, a two-piece toilet, white walls, an undermount sink, a hinged shower door, medium-tone wood cabinets, marble countertops, and gray countertops is shown in the image above.

[michelepoehler]

Nashville Master Bath Bathroom

[bryancailyn]

Bathroom Seattle Drop-in bathtub - large transitional master white tile marble floor drop-in bathtub idea with beige walls

[ubreblanca]

Bathroom Master Bath New York Large transitional master subway tile marble floor bathroom photo with white cabinets and white walls

[jinwoosungs]

08/19/24; 04:41pm

{ 18+ headcanons / drabbles }

[ lovemaking + aftercare with them ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

thanks to @/nyashykyunnie for her input for zayne and rafayel.

[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

sylus has spent hours mounting you, thrusting his cock in and out of you as you became a bit dazed in response. as you made your slow descent into madness, (your mind and body so drunk off the pleasure sylus had given you), you take a moment to admire this devastating man.

a light sheen of sweat was seen across his powerful body, letting out gasps and grunts of your name as his eyes hungrily look down at the area where he remained connected with you. just seeing the way you take in his cock so well was enough to make the onychinus leader tremble, the sheer amount of pleasure he felt coursing through his veins being immeasurable.

as if spurred on by your moans and the way your pretty, manicured nails grip at the sheets, sylus lets out a growl of your name, tossing one of your legs over his shoulders, pumping his cock with fervor in and out of your slick heat before stilling his hips completely just moments later, forcing your cunt to take in all he had to offer the moment he shoots his seed inside of you.

you moan at the sudden sensation of sylus filling you to the brim with his cum, feeling it mixing together with your own juices, leaving you panting. sylus places a chaste kiss against your cheek before landing against your body. he places the entirety of his weight on you, leaving you aching and breathless as you writhed beneath him.

“sy… please, you’re too heavy for this.”

his tired and weak chuckles were heard against your ear, and you felt the way he gently bites down against the lobe of your ear. “aw, my poor kitten, did i wear you out?”

you let out a huff in response, refusing to answer him, (yet the heat felt against your cheeks and the notable ache between your legs were more than enough proof of sylus’s relentless lovemaking). with a shake of his head, your lover gently holds down your hips before pulling out of you, earning a deep sigh from you.

knowing that you had been thoroughly rendered unable to walk by him, sylus gently takes you into his embrace, humming as he saunters toward your shared bathroom. your eyes take in the marble onyx tub, watching as sylus turns on the faucet, filling it with hot water before pouring a bottle of your favorite scented bubbles into the mix.

once your bath was prepared, sylus gently places you inside of the tub, earning a content purr from you as you were surrounded by the waters. once you were settled inside, sylus joins you, allowing your back to meet with his chest when his arms automatically wrapped around your front. you giggle upon seeing the bath waters fall onto the marble floors with sylus’s added weight. letting out a rich chuckle of your name, sylus busies himself with washing your hair, threading his fingers through them as he massages your scalp in the process.

once your hair was washed and thoroughly rinsed, sylus helps you further by spreading your legs, earning a soft moan from you when you felt his thick fingers exploring the depths of your core, cleaning you of the respective evidence of yours and sylus’s release. your meek whimpers fill at the air, feeling sylus lean down to gently bite down against your shoulder.

“hmph, the sounds you’re making are truly difficult to ignore. you’re making it hard to resist you, but i know how tired you must feel… so i’ll behave.” he admits with a grunt, with you visibly relaxing in his embrace, allowing your lover to further spoil you with his massages as he spends a copious amount of time in the bathtub with you.

zayne was simply admiring the way you gently rode him, gasping as your legs trembled in response to each painstaking thrust made against his cock. it takes him a herculean effort not to climax with you riding him so passionately that you were practically bouncing up and down his aching shaft.

filled with a desperation to be the sole cause of your release, zayne places both his hands on your hips, purposely speeding up your bounces against his cock. your eyes end up rolling to the back of your head, the pleasure almost too intense for you to handle. your back arches in response to the way zayne slams you up and down his dick, with the palm of your hands settled on his chest to help you with maintaining your balance.

“you are… magnificent. i will never get enough of you…” zayne admits to you in a breathless whisper, making you gasp as your walls sweetly clench around zayne’s cock. as your cunt grips at his dick in a vice grip, you felt every pulsating vein from zayne, making the doctor grunt before thrusting his hips upwards, his cock twitching wildly inside of you before completely releasing himself into you. your walls were coated in white, making you moan as you felt your respective releases flowing out of you and down the length of zayne’s softening cock.

with you becoming out of breath coupled along with the ache you felt all across your body, zayne’s eyes go wide before quickly pulling himself out of you. you were left moaning at the sudden loss of him, yet zayne was too distracted with his desires to take care of you for you to notice.

“you shouldn’t have exerted yourself. despite how-“ zayne cuts himself off with a cough, “despite how pleasurable it was for both of us, i should have known better than to keep pushing you. and for that i’m sorry.”

“it’s okay, z-zayne. i… it felt really good. i don’t regret it at all.” you reassure your beloved with a satisfied smile on your face, making the cardiac surgeon blush an even deeper shade of red.

zayne lets out another cough, flushing a noticeably in response when he leans closer to you, giving your lips a quick kiss before hurriedly disappearing into your shared bathroom. in his rush, zayne had forgotten to put on some clothes, giving you the perfect view of his backside as you grinned at the sight.

the sounds of running water were all you could hear, and it wasn’t until several minutes later that zayne reappears into the bedroom, picking up your pliant form with ease before taking you into the master bathroom with him. with your arms wrapped around his neck, you watch as he carefully settles you within the bathtub. the lingering scent of lavender fills your senses, and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a moan the moment you felt the warm waters surrounding your aching body.

with you practically melting into the bathtub, zayne places one last kiss against your hair. “enjoy your bath, my love. and i’ll return once everything is ready for you.”

you frown, wanting him to join you, too. but his sudden departure from the bathroom makes you pout a bit. but alas, your lover had always been like this-

becoming a complete and total mother hen when it came to caring for you. knowing it was best to not argue with zayne when he became so passionate, you decided to wash yourself, cleansing your body of the sweat and fluids that remained as evidence of your copulation just moments ago.

losing track of time of how long you had been in the bath, you end up feeling a bit startled when zayne reappears. he smiles back at you, now dressed in a pair of sweatpants and shirt. with a plush towel in hand, zayne sweetly beckons at you to stand up for him, allowing him to dry you completely as he begins to drain the bathtub of the water.

once he was satisfied, your lover wraps you in the towel and carries you out of the tub. not allowing you to lift even a single finger, zayne rids your damp body of the towel, choosing instead to don your form in a comfortable robe before carrying you once more. with you clinging to him, you gently place kisses against his jawline, eyes trailing toward your shared bed when you realize that zayne had completely changed the sheets and blankets. you become flustered at this fact, feeling embarrassed at being the reason why zayne had switched out the bedding with something fresh and new.

zayne senses your embarrassment, yet doesn’t comment on it. as he settles himself into bed with you, you saw that he had another surprise up his sleeve. watching him with love filled in your gaze, you notice the way he brings over a tray filled with your favorite foods over from the nightstand, picking up one of the utensils as he cuts a piece of it off for you, hand feeding you the morsel as you let out a dreamy sigh, feeling overjoyed that you were able to call the king of aftercare as your own.

xavier didn’t hold back when it came to his quick pounds deep inside of you, holding up your leg as he kept fucking himself against you. your mind was void of all coherent thoughts, becoming filled with the delicious friction caused by xavier’s cock nestled so deeply within you.

your moans and constant cries of his name makes a surge of confidence go through him. your sweet mewls and the sensation of your walls gripping him so tightly was enough to make the young hunter lose his damn mind. his eyes had long been eclipsed by darkness as evidence of the way they had remained dilated at the mere sight of you. there was something achingly addicting to the sensation of your walls squelching in response to each of his heated thrusts, filling him with the need to make you lose all control for him.

“hah… fuck… you’re squeezing me so much…! you’re practically milking me.”

the pleasured phrases falling from xavier’s lips makes you cry out even further, sobbing into your pillow while he slams his hips even deeper into you. the man had become obsessed with having your walls gripping him oh so tightly, and he briefly wondered if he could make you spill your juices onto him.

his darkened eyes focus on your swollen bundle of nerves, watching the way your pretty pussy practically devours his cock. with a grunt of your name, xavier reaches forward to give your swollen pearl a gentle pinch, earning a gasp from you. he was relentless in taking you now, gently rolling your swollen clit between his fingers while continuing his movements. with his cock continuously disappearing and reappearing, you lost the last bit of your control, letting out a hiss as you came.

feeling the increase in moisture surrounding his already sensitive cock, xavier stills his hips with his eyes clenched shut, already shooting the rest of his seed deep inside of your womb with his balls tightening in response. a low string of curses manages to escape from xavier, basking in the sensation of his cock emptying everything that it had as he kept on pumping his seed inside of you.

by the end of it all, you were too drunk and exhausted to say a single word, eyes going a little hazy. xavier wasn’t faring any better, but manages to pull out of you all the same.

you had your eyes closed, ready to doze off when you felt a strong hand suddenly spread your legs. a soft whine escapes from you, and you manage to look down to see xavier himself placing his face between your legs. the sensation of his wet tongue cleaning at your entrance makes you shiver, yet you lost all the energy to protest. instead, you allow xavier to spread your legs even further for him, placing your hand against his golden strands of hair to help with guiding him against you as he utilizes his hot mouth alone for the sole purpose of cleaning you.

not wishing to forget your every expression, rafayel decided to make love to you in the missionary position. with his hair covering his face in tune to his every thrusts, the young artist couldn’t help but admire just how responsive you were to his every touch.

each time he rams his cock back inside of you, your breasts would bounce beautifully, your gaze becoming even more filled with lust and adoration for him.

your moans were nothing short of being absolute music to his ears, and he basked in the way he was able to play your body like a symphony, using his cock for the purpose of your pleasure alone.

the mere sight of your gorgeous face twisted in absolute and utter pleasure was almost too much for rafayel to bear, making him insane as he leans down to capture your hardened nipples within his hot mouth. the sensation of his tongue licking a stripe up your aching breasts makes you gasp, hands already delving into his soft strands of hair. you lightly pull against those strands, earning a grunt from him as he began to shamelessly suckle on your nipples.

your climax was quickly approaching, and the moment rafayel felt your walls clenching around him so tightly did he lose all sense of control. stilling his hips, he pumps the rest of his seed inside of you, fully emptying himself with a low hiss of your name.

you were practically sobbing beneath him, hands clenching at the ruined sheets below you as you took in all that he had to offer. the lumerian’s gaze looks down at the spot where you remained connected to him, becoming filled with pride at just how well you managed to take him in.

“such a good girl for me… you’re my sole princess.” rafayel admits to you with a soft smile, pressing lingering kisses against your damp skin. when both of your respective releases simmers down to a manageable level, rafayel remains buried deep inside of you.

knowing that your body was aching, he spends a good amount of time massaging your shoulders and hips, applying the right amount of pressure on them. still feeling a bit naughty, the artist ends up wrapping his arms beneath your back, picking up your form, ensuring that your heaving breasts were settled before him as he spends yet another good chunk of time littering them with kisses all while gently sucking on your sensitive nipples.

he continues to chuckle at how responsive you still were, finally ceasing with his almost hedonistic massages against your skin. realizing just how tired you were when you let out a yawn, rafayel makes sure his limp cock was still connected to your slick walls (despite how much of a challenge it was to place you both beneath the covers without breaking such an intimate contact.)

seeing the way your lover struggled makes you giggle weakly in response, earning a playful glare from him that was certainly not a pout. you listen as rafayel huffs before placing your face within his naked chest after managing to pull the comforter over both your forms.

“sleep, my princess, and i’ll be sure to treat you to something nice when morning comes.”

his gentle voice was all the urging you needed to succumb to your exhaustion, allowing your eyelids to grow heavier before falling into a deep slumber…

end notes: it is so easy to thirst for the lads boys and i am just so shameless at this point 🫠

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 18 (18+)

a/n: as always, thank you @bahablastplz for editing!

[ read chapter 17 here ]

[ skz house picture book for visuals in the chapter ]

Chapter Eighteen: Of Beaches and Balconies

The small changes in Chan’s behavior make you feel more at ease around him. You choose an in-flight movie to watch together, and he keeps his hand on your thigh the entire time. When you exit the plane, he extends his hand out to you, and you take it. He guides you through the throngs of people in the airport and you feel yourself shifting into autopilot, taking comfort in following his lead. You’re so used to planning and handling everything on your own that him taking the reins is a welcome relief.

He grabs your luggage at baggage claim, hails a taxi and directs the driver to the hotel. He has you sit in the lobby while he checks in and gets the room keys. Watching him at the front desk, you can’t take your eyes off him. There is an air of confidence about him you’ve always admired but it often felt like arrogance, given the way he has treated you. You wonder if you’ll grow to fully appreciate it on this trip.

He returns to you a few minutes later with the keycards and you head to the elevator.

“What’re you thinking? Nap? Food? Exploring?” he asks as the elevator doors close.

They all sound equally appealing.

You retrieve your phone from your back pocket and open the tentative itinerary you made. Chan leans over your shoulder to look at it.

“Of course,” he chuckles.

“I like organization,” you defend yourself.

“I know,” he muses. “Send that to me, so I know what the plan is.”

“I didn’t have anything planned for today, though—we can wing it,” you shrug, tapping on your phone to send him a copy.

The elevator chimes and the doors open to the 15th floor.

“An entire evening living on the wild side? What’s gotten into you, y/n?” he teases, holding his arm out of the elevator to keep the doors open as you exit.

“I can be risky…sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that,” he replies. “Room 1533, should be all the way at the end.”

You walk down the hallway with him following close behind. When you get to the door, he unlocks it with the keycard and pushes it open for you to enter first. You smile as you enter the room, immediately walking down a hallway with dark walls on either side of you. The first door to your right is the bathroom; it’s covered in sparkling, white marble. There are two sinks, and the shower has two separate heads. You continue down the hallway which leads out into the kitchen on your left, with a refrigerator, stove, sink and an island with barstools around out. To the right is the living room with a gray sofa and a large flat screen TV mounted on the wall across from it.

You turn right and cross through the living room, sparing a quick glance at the balcony beyond the open curtains, until you’re on the other side of the room. Two French doors are wide open, leading into the bedroom. You stop abruptly upon looking inside the room. Chan crashes into you from behind. He grabs your waist to steady both of you from toppling over. His eyes follow yours into the bedroom, taking in the sight that made you stop in your tracks. The room is covered in rose petals, across the floor and on the bed in the shape of a heart. In the left corner of the room is a standalone bathtub and it, too, is surrounded by rose petals.

You can just imagine Lee Know cackling.

“That man must have a death wish,” you remark.

 “Minho,” Chan says, shaking his head. “We should bring some back with us and dump them on his bed.”

You smile at the thought. “They’ll be dead by then…”

“Even better,” he replies, smacking you on the butt as he steps around you. He sits on the bed, picking up a few of the petals. “We can pretend I planned it. Would that make it any better, being your fiancé and all?”

You really wish he’d stop throwing that word around so casually. As if it doesn’t give your heart a reason to beat and want to die simultaneously.

“It might be a little too romantic for you.”

“Ouch,” he drops the petals from his hands. “That hurts, y/n. I can be romantic.”

You arch an eyebrow as he holds out his hand to you. You place your hand in his and he gently pulls you so you’re standing between his legs.

“You’d like it if I did something like this wouldn’t you?” he looks up at you with a knowing smirk.

You roll your eyes and give his shoulders a shove. He falls back onto the bed, right into the middle of the rose petal heart.  Of course you’d like that. But hearing him say it, thinking of him doing something so romantic for the person that will one day be truly and completely his…

No, you can’t allow yourself to dwell on those thoughts.

You climb on top of him on the bed, straddling his waist. You sit up straight with your hands resting on his chest, taking in the sight of him surrounded by the red petals. He looks beautiful, the colors breathing life into his pale complexion and contrasting the dark curls strewn about his head.

You push aside the painful thoughts of the future and focus on the present. You have Chan right now. You’re his, right now. No one else.

“Thank you,” you say, breaking the silence.

“For what?” he asks, placing his hands on your hips.

“For doing a complete 180 today.”

He offers a shrug, “You made some valid points. I chose to come here with you—I have to make sure you have a good time.” He uses his hands on your hips to guide your hips, grinding them against him. “You decide what you wanna do first?”

“Yeah,” you reply, leaning down until your face is centimeters apart from his. “You.”

He smiles in return, bringing a hand up to clasp the back of your neck. He brings you down to peck your lips and in one swift move, rolls you over so he’s on top of you.

“I was hoping you’d say that.” His tone is low as he pulls your legs up so they hook around his waist. He nestles himself between your legs, making himself at home. “Gotta start this vacation off right.”

That first night you don’t venture out far from the hotel. You grab dinner at a nearby restaurant, walk around some of the shops, then return to the room to call it a night. You already feel torn between wanting to see all the things you had planned and staying cooped up in the hotel room with Chan the entire trip. Though, you don’t think he’d object to the latter if you suggested it.

The next day you have an early start in the morning and Chan wakes up without any fuss and gets ready. It makes you smile when you see him come out of the bathroom in comfortable active wear. He must have read through your itinerary and dressed accordingly. You spend the morning on a boat tour along the bay where the guide points out the homes of various celebrities, then out into the Atlantic Ocean. You and Chan are more enraptured by the dolphins you spot, his child-like glee at the sight—look of awe on his face, phone in hand to capture the moment—makes you laugh with pure joy.

You then take a quick taxi ride to Little Havana and walk along the streets. You have lunch at a Cuban café and then stop at an art museum where you take pictures to send to Hyunjin later.

You go out for dinner again and on your way back, the two of you sit for an artist to draw a caricature. Chan laughs when the picture is finally revealed to you and commends the artist for accurately depicting the size of his nose to which you can only shake your head. It’s been drastically enlarged, but you love the picture anyway.

However, you don’t love the fact that you start to question whether or not you’ll be forced to throw it away in a couple months.

Once you’re finally back in the hotel room, you both linger in the kitchen, neither of you wanting to go to bed yet. You’re standing with your back against the island and Chan is seated on a barstool next to you.

“What’s your favorite Christmas memory?” You ask, wanting to talk about anything with him.

“Hmmm,” he hums. The question seems to catch him off guard, as if he had other things on his mind. “When I was twelve, my little sister Hannah begged my parents to spend the holiday on Christmas Island. Have you heard of it?”

You shake your head no.

“It’s just east of Australia—not too far from Indonesia. Anyways, she saw it on a map and thought we’d get our presents faster if we were there.”

“Did you?”

“No,” he chuckles. “And we only got half our presents—whatever was small and convenient enough to pack for the trip. On Christmas Eve, me, Hannah and Luke even tried to stay up all night to try to catch Santa on, but they passed out pretty early.”

“You still believed in Santa at age 12?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow.

“For them, I did,” he replies, and you feel your condescending expression soften.

You try to imagine him as an older brother, keeping the magic of Christmas alive for his siblings. It’s an endearing thought. Your mind then drifts to the fact that he’s not spending Christmas with his family this year. You never asked if he typically went back home or stayed at school for winter break. Now you’re wondering if they’re missing him. And that makes you sad to consider.

Chan stands from the barstool, pulling you out of your thoughts and you immediately feel your body adjust to his movements, uncertain if he’s about to walk away.

He stands in front of you and places his hands on your hips. This change in positioning, the closeness, realigns your thought process to focus on him, here and now. What are siblings, even?

“That year I was almost convinced to believe again.” He grips onto your hips and hoists you up onto the countertop without missing a beat. “After they fell asleep, I could have sworn I heard something on the roof…turned out to be the hotel staff adjusting antennas or something though. Bummer.”

“Have you guys ever gone back?”

“Nah,” he says with a shrug but doesn’t elaborate. “What’s Christmas like with your family—any traditions?”

“My parents never did the whole Santa thing,” you tell him. He gives a nod, showing that he’s listening, but his body seems to have a mind of its own as he starts moving the barstools on either side of you, placing one under each foot. “But for as long as I can remember we’d have breakfast for dinner. Waffles, eggs, bacon, sausage…the works. More food than we could ever—”

You pause as he starts to remove your socks. He stops, too, looking up at you and waiting for you to continue. When you resume speaking, he pulls your socks off and tosses them aside.

“We would watch a holiday themed movie—A Christmas Story, Home Alone, The Santa Clause, uhm…” you blink as his hands move to the hem of your shirt and start to lift it over your head.

“And what else?” he asks casually.

“If I could stay up,” you continue as his hands proceed to pull your shirt up and you lift your arms to help, “until midnight, I got to choose one gift under the tree to open.”

He tosses your shirt on the floor with your socks.

“Did you ever make it to midnight?” He asks, hands now focused on pulling down your bottoms. You lift your hips slightly to allow it and he drags them down over your ass.

You momentarily forget to answer as you watch him, transfixed. He gently takes out one leg then the other before letting them join your other clothes on the floor. You’re not sure what’s happening. It baffles you, really. Anyone listening to this conversation wouldn’t assume anything out of the ordinary is taking place. Meanwhile this man now has you in your underwear, legs spread and feet resting on the barstools as he stands between them.

You don’t make any attempt to stop him, though.

“A few times,” you finally reply. “When I did, I always went for the biggest present.”

“Smart girl,” he says, sliding his hands up your legs, then your thighs, until they can’t move any higher. He grips your thighs, letting his eyes fall from yours down your torso until landing between your legs.

He moves his hand to your center as he asks more questions—is Christmas your favorite holiday? What’s the best gift you’ve ever gotten? Do you prefer giving gifts or receiving? All the while rubbing his thumb against your clit, over your underwear. You do your best to answer, but your attempts at speaking become futile. He smiles at this and finally removes your underwear and bra, leaving you naked on the counter while he remains fully clothed.

He abandons his line of questions and focuses instead on making you come with his mouth. He gets no objections from you.

After breakfast, you start the following morning on the beach. The hotel has reserved sections for guests with beach chairs and umbrellas. Chan—already shirtless and tempting—orders you both mimosas. As he’s lying on his own chair with a pair of sunglasses covering his eyes, you stand to remove your cover up, revealing a retro-styled bathing suit—high waisted bottoms and a halter top, tied behind your neck.

When you lay back in your own chair, you become aware of his gaze on you. You look down to make sure you aren’t indecently exposed, but all your bits and pieces are in place.

“How does everything you wear look so good on you?” He asks in an off-handed manner, pulling his sunglasses down to the bridge of his nose.

You blush at the unexpected compliment.

“Maybe you’re just thinking about taking it off?”

 He considers your sentiment before nodding in agreement.  

“Maybe,” he mutters. “Maybe you don’t understand how sexy you are, y/n.”

He winks at you before sliding the glasses back up and looking out at the ocean. A silence falls over you both as the waiter brings your drinks. You cheers, clinking your glasses together before taking a sip.

 “Do you think I’m weak?” you ask him, after a moment.

“Weak?” He repeats, sounding taken aback by your question.

“Like…I’m inferior to you and that’s why you can do and say certain things to me?”

You’re just as surprised as him at your own question. It’s been on your mind a lot lately. Especially given how he had his way with you last night and you just let it happen. Not that you didn’t enjoy it.

“No…” he says after a moment. “I don’t think you’re inferior. Or weak.”

“Is it something you like to do with everyone?” You keep your eyes trained on the water in front of you, not wanting to look at him when he answers.

You don’t even like the way your voice sounds when you ask the question. Like you’re afraid of the answer…or jealous. The intimate things you’ve done with Chan, though, are so different than what you’re used to. You know he’s had, at the very least, three sexual partners before you, but you’re curious if they all bent to his will as easily as you do.

“There are certain things I like, sure—being a little rough, for example, is something I could do with anyone. But most of the shit we’ve done? I don’t know how to explain it…”

You glance over at him, but because of the sunglasses he’s wearing you can’t see his eyes. He seems to be taking his time answering. Choosing his words carefully, perhaps.

“I had an assumption about you,” he eventually continues, “and after our first night together, it confirmed that assumption. So, I pushed further and further, and you were always receptive. Or at least you seemed willing. You still do. Do you not like it?”

There’s a sincerity and openness to his tone you’ve never heard before.

“I do,” you reassure him. “I just never knew if you thought less of me or something…because I always cave and give in to what you want.”

“Quite the opposite,” he replies softly. “I knew you’re very strong-willed. I don’t think you’d just let anyone talk to you the way I have or do the things I’ve done to you. The fact that you allow me to do these things to you, that you willingly relinquish control sometimes is what really gives me pleasure.”

You distract yourself by taking another sip of your mimosa to keep from smiling at his words. You’ve never heard him say such kind things about you. But he’s felt them and seen them, seen you this entire time.

“I think a large part of my willingness has to do with you…” you tell him. “I never thought I’d actually like someone telling me what to do. But you carry yourself with an undeniable amount of confidence…an alpha-male energy, if you will, that gives me an enjoyable kind of fear that I feel like I can be safe in? If that makes sense.”

He nods his head slowly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“So, if I told you to take that top off right now…” he trails off.

“You wouldn’t,” you say, looking around at all the people and families—literal children on the beach.

“I wouldn’t,” he agrees. “Not here.”

And there it is. It’s like there has always been an unspoken agreement between the two of you, right from the start. He will push you out of your comfort zone, but there are limitations. Even that day in the park when you thought he was going to have you suck his dick out in the open.

“None of these people are worthy of seeing you in that state,” he adds, and you just roll your eyes.

You spend the next few hours at the beach together. You venture out into the water, but not too far in. You latch yourself onto Chan’s back as he treads through the water, kissing his shoulders, hugging him tight. Happy to be with him freely.

By the time you make it back to the hotel room, it’s nearly 3:00pm. You both have to shower quickly and get ready for the evening plans. You’re in the bathroom, applying the final touches to your makeup when Chan walks in. You see his reflection through the mirror and your jaw drops. He’s clad in black slacks and a black button up shirt—the top few buttons undone as usual, just how you like it. The shirt is tucked in, and a black belt is looped around his slender hips. His hair is parted on the side, dark bangs hanging over the right side of his forehead. His accessories—earrings, necklace, bracelet, and rings are all silver. He looks so fucking handsome. You fight with yourself to not tear every piece of clothing off him immediately.

He smiles at your reaction, giving your outfit a nod of approval as well; it compliments his. The two-piece set is black with tan colored flowers across it. The high waisted skirt, with a mid-thigh slit, hugs your mid-section and flows down your lower half. The top is a cropped spaghetti strap with a plunge v-neck, leaving plenty of cleavage on display.  

You toss your lip gloss into your purse before zipping it up and taking a few steps back from the bathroom sink, checking out your own reflection once more.

“You ready?” He asks as he comes to stand behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and leans down, resting his chin on your shoulder.

You nod your head, but you’re unable to tear your gaze away from the sight in the mirror. You’ve never seen the two of you together like this. You don’t even try to hide the smile that breaks out on your face. You look good together. 

He kisses your neck before standing up straight.

“Let’s go.”

Your itinerary for tonight is a tour of the infamous Versace mansion followed by dinner on the premises. It only felt right you’d both be dressed to the nines.

After you get your shoes on and head out of the hotel room, Chan keeps his hand around your waist. In fact, he hardly lets go of you the entire night, except during the meal. If he doesn’t have his arm around your shoulders or waist, he’s holding your hand. It all just makes you so fucking happy and you’re delusional enough at this point to indulge in the façade. You’ve stopped trying to remind yourself that these niceties are just him playing a part.

When you get back from dinner, you and Chan go straight to the dimly lit balcony to enjoy the view and some fresh air. There are two wicker chairs with cushions and a small table between them.  It’s dark and so quiet that even the sound of the waves crashing against the shore reach all the way up to where you are. It’s peaceful. Part of you wishes the two of you could stay here forever and never face reality.

“What’re you thinking about?” Chan asks, catching you zoned out.

“Life,” you reply simply with a shrug.

“Yikes,” he responds with a chuckle. “Let’s not do that yet. Come over here.” he says, jerking his head.

You stand from your seat and take a few small steps until you’re standing directly in front of him, between his legs. Your eyes drift down to his chest, exposed by the top buttons he has left undone. You can already feel your pulse quicken in anticipation from the tone he’s using, the way he’s looking at you.

“Do you know what I’ve been thinking about ever since we got here?”

You shake your head.

“Fucking you on this balcony,” he grips the back of your thigh and pulls you closer. He rubs his nose along the exposed skin on your stomach, eyes closed as he breathes in your scent. His hand slides around to the front of your thigh, searching for the slit in your skirt. He trails kisses across your stomach as he finds it and pulls up the thin fabric.

You glance around you, nervous about being out in the open. Your room is on the corner of the hotel, facing the water. There aren’t any adjacent windows where anyone could see. Plus you’re so high up, it’d be difficult for anyone on the ground to make out what you’re up to. But still, it feels risky. Maybe that’s supposed to be the point.

His hand stops moving higher when he reaches the apex of your thighs, fingers dancing along the outside of your underwear. He leans back and tucks the extra fabric of the skirt into your waistband so it’s out of the way, then pulls aside your underwear with his pointer finger.

He licks his lips as the sight of your exposed pussy just inches from his mouth.

“You gonna let me?” he asks, trailing his fingers up your inner thighs with his other hand.

“Yes,” you reply, nodding and unable to take your eyes off him.

He rubs his fingers in circles against your pussy, middle finger pressed against your clit.

“All fucking day I’ve thought about touching you,” he says, watching you closely, to see every little reaction to his touch. “You don’t know how bad I wanted to lift this skirt and fuck you in the taxi on the way to dinner.”

You moan as your hips start moving against his fingers.

“Oh?” He says in response to your movements. “You would have liked that? Me fucking you in the back of the taxi?”

Yes. The thought of him seeing you and being unable to control himself, needing to fuck you wherever you are does something to you.

His fingers momentarily leave your pussy so his other hand can pull down your underwear. You step out of them, and he places them next to him in the chair. His fingers resume their work, his other hand reaches behind you to grip your ass and pull you closer to his face.

“Take out your tits,” he says before placing a kiss above your pussy.

You nervously glance over your shoulder again.

“Hey,” he calls your attention back to him, halting his movements. He waits for you to lock eyes with him. “Trust me.”

Trust me. It sounds more like a request than a demand. You do trust him. You trust him completely to handle your body with care, to not jeopardize either of you. You wish you could trust him with your heart.

With the plunge neck top you’re wearing it’s easier to just reach in and pull them out, rather than taking the top off. You lift them out and they rest on top of the shirt, making them even perkier, nipples erect as soon as the cool night air hits them.

His hand leaves your ass to cup your breast, squeezing it softly, pinching the nipple between his pointer and thumb fingers, rolling it back and forth. You rest your hands on his shoulders, caressing them.

When he suddenly stands, your hands fall to his chest. He grips the back of your neck with his hand, holding your head in place, just staring into your eyes as his other hand keeps rubbing your pussy. You instinctively raise your leg and set your foot on the chair to allow him better access.

“You’re incredible,” he declares before pressing his lips to yours.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you melt against him. At his words, at his touch. You tilt your head upwards as he kisses you, parting your lips to allow his tongue to enter. His tongue glides against yours and you moan into his mouth.

As he withdraws, he captures your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it lightly. He removes both of his hands from you, places a quick peck on your lips then walks over to the railing of the balcony. You’re left standing there, panting and exposed. He turns around, leans his back against the railing, then beckons you to him. You timidly place a hand over your breasts as you walk to him, covering yourself. He arches an eyebrow and as soon as you’re close enough, he lowers your hand.

“I told you about that,” he scolds you. “Don’t hide from me.”

He hooks a finger into the fabric of your top, right at the cleavage, and uses it to bring you the rest of the way to him, until you’re pulled flush against him.

It’s only the third day of your trip but you’ve already come to realize he’s capable of fucking you in many ways. He has not used his authoritative tone with you until tonight. He slips back into his commanding role with ease, and you submit without question. But now you can see more of him through it. The conversations you’ve had have shown a different side to him. You were physically attracted to him before, obviously. But now you see more of Chan through his behavior. And you’re growing more attracted to him. For who he is and not just the way he makes you feel when he fucks you.

You begin to lower yourself to your knees, wanting to take him in your mouth, but he stops you and spins you around. He switches positions with you so your ribs are pressed against the railing, exposed tits hanging out for anyone looking to see. Which, you pray, is no one. He lifts your skirt again, scrunching it together with one hand at the small of your back.

You hear him unbuckle his pants and push them down. You lick your lips in anticipation, hips moving of their own accord as you stare out at the darkened ocean in front of you. You would have never imagined yourself doing something like this just a few months ago.

Your attention snaps back to Chan as you feel his cock rubbing against your opening. He lets out a soft groan from behind you as you arch your back, pushing your ass out towards him.

“Fuck, y/n,” he says, still teasing your opening. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, first glancing down at his cock rubbing against you, then up to his face.

“You know I do,” is your soft reply.

He slaps his palm down onto your ass and grips it, causing you to whimper and moan.

“My girl always fucking wants it.”

You bite your lip and turn back around to face the endless horizon in front of you. To focus on that instead of the words he’s just said.

My girl.

He thrusts into you, and you shut your eyes, dropping your head. You want to focus on fucking him and not that phrase. Quite possibly the most beautiful phrase in the English language when falling from his lips.  

My girl.

His other hand tangles itself in your hair, pulling your head back as he rams into you.

My. Girl.

Your eyes snap open but you’re no longer seeing anything, no longer thinking anything. You are nothing but his girl right now. You grip the railing and force your hips back against him, fucking him hard and fast until he comes.

“Oh fuck, fuck,” he groans.

Neither of you expected it to happen so quickly. It honestly feels like an achievement, knowing how long he can hold out when he wants to.

He leans onto you, chin resting on your shoulder as you both catch your breath.

“Chan,” you say, leaning to the side and turning your head to look at him. “Get me off this fucking balcony.”

He laughs and nods. He slowly withdraws his cock from inside you and pulls his boxers and pants back up without buttoning them. In one fell swoop he scoops you up into his arms—one hand on your back, the other under your knees. He carries you back inside and sits you down on the couch.

“Wait here,” he tells you.

He heads off into the bedroom and you hear the sound of running water. You rest your head on the back of the couch and stare up at the ceiling. You can’t deny how fun, exciting, exhilarating that was but you’re glad to be back inside where no one can see.

Chan returns a few minutes later in just a shirt and his boxers. He offers his hand out to you, which you take, then guides you into the bedroom. The main lights are off, but the one above the bathtub in the room is on. The water is still running, but the tub is already halfway full.

He brings you to a stop at the side of the tub and silently undresses you, kissing your skin as it’s exposed. He then picks you up again and places you into the bathtub and you immediately relax in its warmth—it’s the perfect temperature.

He remains outside of the tub, seated on one of the stools next to it. He reaches across you to turn the water off and for some reason you find it hard to look at him. This sort of treatment, from him, is new to you. He brings your hand to his mouth, kissing from your knuckles up your arm.

“I can’t stop touching you…and I think it could be a problem,” he says, smiling.

“Then don’t,” you say, with all the seriousness you can muster.

He proceeds to run his hand across your body until he finds your pussy again, beneath the water. He slips his fingers inside of you, fucking you and working your clit to bring you to an orgasm.

“Chan,” you pant as you feel it approach.

You reach your hand out of the tub, grabbing the collar of his shirt. You pull on it with all your might and his expression turns to one of surprise as you pull him up and over into the bathtub with you. He doesn’t let this distract him too long though, he adjusts himself on his knees, his thighs keeping your legs apart and pushed against the side of the tub. His fingers keep thrusting into you, thumb circling your clit. Your hands find their way to his hair and pull his mouth against yours as you come.

Your hips rock against his fingers while you pant and moan through your release. He removes his fingers and looks down at himself—soaked shirt and boxers.

You start to laugh at the sight, and he joins you.

“I’m not even sorry,” you say.

You reach your hands out to unbutton his wet shirt and toss it onto the floor. He removes his boxers and repositions both of you, so his back is against the tub, and your back is pressed against his chest. You lean your head back against him, eyes shut.

You don’t know how long the two of you stay in the tub, but once the water starts to get cold, Chan lets some of it out then runs more warm water in. He grabs your body wash from outside the tub and you both wash up with it. There’s only one towel near the tub, so he steps out to grab it and offers it to you. You look up at his dripping figure, wondering how you got here but not wanting to question it too deeply.

When you’re both dry and in clean pajamas, you waste no time before hopping into bed to get warm again. He pulls you to him, kissing your bare shoulder.

You don’t say goodnight. You don’t say anything.

You don’t need to.  

[ read chapter 19 here ]

a/n: oh my goodness. what a tangled web they're weaving. but i promise, your hearts will be safe in the end. i'm excited to hear your thoughts 😁🩵

i have no idea why tumblr is being a cunt and fucking with the taglist. it will take five names and then no more, no matter if i try it in the original post, a reblog, or in the comments. i am sorry. i hope this still finds you 😞

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Things Learned and Unlearned Ch. 8

Series Summary: Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

Pairings/Characters: Dean Winchester x Y/N, Sam Winchester, Jessica Winchester, Lucy Winchester (OC)

Warnings: Each chapter will have it's own warnings, but there will be smut, seduction, virgin!reader, playboy!dean, Edwardian era BS attitudes surrounding sex and women. (Technically it's set in 1900 and the Edwardian era started in 1901, but you get it.) Angst, Fluff, all the good stuff that regularly pops up in my series. 😁

Chapter Warnings: Bathtub shenanigans, sexy/soothing massage, thigh riding, overstimulation, multiple orgasms.

Word Count: 3,511

A/N: Here's Ch. 8. I so appreciate all the love and support you're all giving this series. Hope you enjoy the latest installment. ❤️

Series Master List || Main Master List || Tag Lists

Y/N sat down on the thick, satin blanket that covered the massive bed and ran her hand across the cool, smooth material, marveling at the room around her.

One thought came to her mind; Dean was definitely paying for this hotel. Sam and Jessica were doing well financially, but they could never afford something so incredibly luxurious.

The floors were marble, with thick, plush rugs placed around the room, warming it up both figuratively and literally. The walls were polished mahogany and home to pieces of art that likely cost more than her entire salary for three years. 

There was also a large, round, mahogany table and four, spindle-legged chairs that sat around it. In the northernmost corner of the room, sat two green, velvet-upholstered chairs with another small mahogany table between them. The chairs had wide seats and were so comfortable looking that Y/N wanted to immediately cuddle up with a book and spend a rainy afternoon eating sweets and not moving.

There were two tall, wide windows with window seats that allowed a person a perfectly unobstructed view of the beautiful hotel gardens. Because it was Christmastime, the evergreen trees in the garden were decorated with red bows, cranberries and strings of shiny beads. It was cheery and beautiful. Her suite did indeed have a private entrance that connected to these gardens and she couldn't wait to wander through them on a sunny winter day.

She also had a beautiful, private bathroom complete with a built-in bathtub that looked large enough to swim in.

Dean had told her that the staff was available to her day and night and that they would make her whatever meals she requested, she need only ask.

Y/N was trying very hard not to succumb, and immediately agree to Dean's offer. She knew she shouldn't be so easily corrupted by wealth and luxury, but she wasn't hypocritical enough to pretend that this kind of extravagance wasn't incredibly enticing.

There was a discreet knock at the door and Y/N went to answer it. When she opened the door a young woman in a maid's uniform stood on the other side. Behind her stood a very short man in an elegant suit.

Before Y/N could ask who they were, the gentleman pushed his way in, followed by numerous beautiful women dressed in stunning gowns. Y/N was somewhat taken aback by the opulence and beauty entering her hotel suite.

The man walked briskly up to her, standing very close. "My name is Mr. Lowen. I have the premiere dress salon in New York and Mr. Winchester has hired me to outfit you completely. Today we will measure you and get your opinion on some of these styles. Within three days we will have an entire wardrobe for you. You will love it."

Mr. Lowen had a high pitched voice with a southern drawl to it that Y/N found quite charming. She merely nodded, slightly dazed, and Mr. Lowen led her over to the window seat while they looked over the many gowns modeled by the women.

At first Y/N was shy to give her opinion, simply telling Mr. Lowen that yes, she liked this dress and that shoe. But he eventually managed to cajole actual opinions out of her. Yes, she loved that deep blue color, no she didn't like the puffed sleeve. She liked shoes that were simple in design, but made from fine materials.

After looking at the gowns, every inch of Y/N was measured, from head to toe, as Mr. Lowen made notes in a small notepad.

Before she knew it, two hours had passed and he was saying goodbye and kissing her on both cheeks. He promised to return in three days to personally deliver her new wardrobe.

Her guests left in a flurry of activity, and the silence and calm that followed felt soothing. Y/N decided to continue the decadence and began to draw herself a bath. The water was warm as it poured into the large tub. 

There were so many different oils and soaps on the shelf beside the tub that Y/N took quite a while deciding which to use. She finally settled on a lavender scented oil and a soap with a light rose scent. She poured some of the oil into the water before turning off the taps and climbing in.

A groan left her lips as the warm water surrounded her muscles. The gentle lavender scent of the oil made Y/N worry for a moment that she might fall asleep in the tub.

Then she heard the door leading from the gardens open and Dean's voice calling her name. Suddenly she was wide awake, her body pulsing. 

He came into the doorway of the bathroom and stopped. He slowly leaned himself against the frame and allowed a sly smile to spread across his face.

"Enjoying the facilities, I see.”

Y/N nodded, shy for a moment. But then she reminded herself that she was practicing boldness and trying out audacity, so she leaned back in the tub.

"Join me?" She asked, allowing all her desire to show in her expression as she opened her arms to reveal herself to Dean. She was thrilled at the lust that exploded behind his jade green eyes.

She licked her lips as she watched him strip out of his many layers of clothes. Finally he stepped, naked, into the tub behind her. Some of the water sloshed out of the tub as he pulled her back against him. It felt much nicer to recline against his warm, hard body than against the cold porcelain of the tub.

They lay like that for a while, Dean's arms wrapped around her and his chin resting on the top of her head. Eventually though, he sat her up and began washing her hair. He poured warm water over her scalp using the porcelain pitcher next to the tub. Then he took the rose-scented soap and lathered her hair before moving down to her neck and shoulders. He bathed all of her, and in spite of the intimacy of his touches, Y/N found only comfort there. She felt pampered and spoiled and it inexplicably made her want to cry a little.

After rinsing her off completely, Dean stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around his waist. He pulled open a closet Y/N hadn't even noticed before, and removed a plush, cozy dressing gown. He helped Y/N out of the tub and rubbed a thick towel briskly over her skin before wrapping her up in the dressing gown. 

He drained the tub and then led her over to the bench at the vanity. She sat down and allowed him to towel her hair before he began to run a brush gently through the strands.

All the while, through all of his ministrations, he talked to her; about his day, about his company, the rivals he was going to war with and the people he hoped to bring in as allies and partners. He told her amusing anecdotes about his employees and Y/N learned two new things about him. He was incredibly proud of his work, and he loved the people who worked for him. He talked about their families and knew all about their lives.

As he pulled her hair into a loose braid, Y/N couldn't remember the last time she had felt this at peace and content.

Then his clever, long fingered hands found the lavender oil and began a slow, delicious torture.

He pulled her dressing gown off of her shoulders and applied warm, lavender scented pressure to her shoulder blades. Without meaning to, Y/N let out a groan that surprised her in its animalistic nature.

Dean seemed completely unsurprised and merely chuckled. He slipped her dressing gown down to her waist and caressed long, strong strokes of oil into her torso and down her arms. Strong fingers spread warmth and moisture into her breasts and Y/N felt the now familiar fire shoot into her core, and the tension began to build for real.

Dean stood her up, removing the dressing gown completely. He got down on one knee in front of her and, using more oil, ran his hands from her left hip, down her thigh and calf, his fingers brushing a burning heat into her skin before doing the same to her right leg.

Then, before she could blink, he moved to sit down on the vacated bench and pulled her face down across his lap. For a moment, Y/N thought he meant to spank her, and her mind both rebelled and thrilled slightly at the idea.

But soon she felt his fingers running across her backside, rubbing the oil into the soft fleshy skin there. Every time he ran his hand across a cheek, his fingers got increasingly close to the part of her that was dying for his touch.

She could feel his hardening shaft beneath her belly, pushing up against his towel, and it only served to make her even more desperate for him.

Finally she felt his slick fingers slip into the folds of her body. She was so primed, and she was so wet for him, that it took only a few passes of his thumb across the sensitive little button there, for her to cry out her release.

But Dean was far from finished with her.

Helping her to sit up, he positioned her so she was straddling his right thigh. She held onto his upper arms for balance and rested her forehead on his shoulder as she panted and tried to catch her breath. As she breathed in, deep and slightly shaky, Dean took hold of her hips, lifting her slightly and then pressing her down, hard and fast, against his thigh. 

Y/N gasped and caught his eye, a look of surprise and wonder in her gaze as he repeated the action, flexing his thick thigh muscle this time, so that her dripping center began to throb with pleasure, her sensitive skin rubbing against the soft towel covering his leg.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” Dean asked, his voice gravelly and heated. Y/N could do nothing but nod frantically. When he did it again, slamming her down harder this time, she cried out and dug her fingernails into the bulging muscles in his upper arms.

He took his hands from her hips and began circling both her nipples with his fingertips, making them pucker tightly. But she wanted him to continue lifting and pressing her against that hard ridge of muscle. She was desperate to feel the pleasurable pressure against her aching core again, and she whined at Dean as she rocked slightly on his leg. 

“Please?” She whispered.

“It’s up to you now, baby. Chase that feeling.” Dean told her, but she shook her head, burying her face in the crook of his neck, embarrassed. Dean pulled away slightly, slipping his forefinger beneath her chin. 

He spoke quietly, but firmly. “You know what you want,Y/N, and you know how to get it. So go on, follow what feels good. Admit what you want and find your pleasure.” 

He encouraged her by letting his hand fall between her legs to softly stroke the sensitive button there - enough to urge her on, but not enough to provide her the friction and pressure she was craving.

“Dean.” She gasped and tried to push down on his fingers, but he pulled them away. In frustration she lifted herself slightly and then fell back onto his thigh.

“Oh!” She shouted breathlessly as that same incredible sensation swept through her body. She moved her hands to his shoulders and used them for balance and as leverage to lift her hips and then slam herself back down on him, slowly at first, but with increasing speed and intensity. 

Heat swept through her body and her aching need became stronger and stronger the more she pushed and pressed against Dean's hard body. But after nearly ten minutes of chasing her climax she felt herself waning and she dropped, exhausted, against Dean’s shoulder, whimpering softly.

“Poor baby.” Dean whispered in her ear, sending shivers skittering across her skin. 

He let his lips drift down the column of her neck before sucking delicately on her pulse point. Y/N moaned and tilted her head so he could reach it easier. 

“I know you’re tired, sweetheart; do you want me to take over?” She nodded, but he continued quickly. “I’ll warn you though, if I do, I’m gonna keep you coming and coming over and over, till you can’t breathe for pleasure - till you’re completely spent and mindless, only able to scream my name.”

He pulled her earlobe into his mouth and spoke around it. “Is that what you want, beautiful? Hmm?” 

Y/N felt like her body was going to fall over the edge just listening to his rumbling voice describing his plans for her. She nodded quickly, desperate for him to pull her apart.

With her nod, he scooped her up and took her to the bed. He threw the blankets back and laid her down, moving between her legs before stretching out on his stomach. Pulling her thighs open wide, he held her in place as he dropped his mouth to her slick folds, licking and sucking her to a climax in mere moments.

But Y/N soon found out that he hadn’t been exaggerating when he said he planned on making her fall apart over and over. He brought on the explosions one after the other - endlessly. Occasionally he gave her a few minutes reprieve, one time he even stopped long enough to bring her a glass of water to rehydrate her. But without fail, he’d return to his place between her legs and continue his exquisite torment. 

Y/N lost track of the number of times the powerful, sweeping bliss spread across her body. But the pleasure seemed to go on forever and by the end she was shaking and weeping in ecstasy.

“Please.” She croaked to Dean as she pushed her fingers through his hair. “Can’t…anymore…”

“I bet you can.” Dean said wickedly before pulling the overworked little bundle of nerves into his mouth one more time and sucking deeply.

Sure enough, she exploded again, her limbs heavy and unmoving as her body shook with her release. Tears streamed down her cheeks as her whole body weeped with aching, exhausted pleasure.

Finally Dean moved up from his long-held position between her legs to pull her against his chest. He pushed aside the sweaty tendrils of hair that clung to her temples and forehead, dropping kisses across her cheeks. 

“How are you doin’, sweetheart?” He asked and Y/N could only groan in answer. She heard the smile in his voice as he kissed the tip of her nose. “That good, huh?”

Y/N shivered as her sweat-slicked skin began to cool. She shook her head and her voice was weak and muffled. “I need another bath.”

Dean just chuckled and shook his head. “N’ah, I like you just like this, dripping wet and sated.” 

He kissed her temple and pulled her closer as she drifted off. “And completely mine.”

***

For the next three days Y/N didn’t leave her room and, in fact, spent most of her time in bed.

Dean left her dead asleep in the mornings; she’d wake up to the lingering scent of him on the pillow, but only a cold bed beside her. She appreciated that he let her keep sleeping when he left to go to work - lord knew he exhausted her enough for her to need the rest. But she’d still rather he said goodbye before he left. 

Instead she woke up alone, late in the morning, usually around ten o’clock, and rang down for a light breakfast - toast and jam with a cup of hot chocolate or coffee. After eating, she’d wash and dress in her one and only dress. 

Her suitcases had finally been found and they were on a journey back from Boston, but the train wasn’t expected to arrive for a couple of days, by which time, her new wardrobe would already be there. 

When she was dressed in her gray governess’ uniform, she’d settle into the comfortable green chairs and read for a couple of hours.

Dean usually showed up for an hour or so at lunch, and inevitably her uniform would come off quickly and she’d end up back in bed, with Dean knocking her out for the better part of the afternoon. 

It was without a doubt, the most indolent and slothful she’d ever been in all of her twenty six years…and she was loving it. 

But she was still very happy when, on the morning of the third day, she woke up just as Dean was leaving the bed to dress for work. She reached for him and grabbed his wrist.

“No, don’t go.” She said sleepily, trying to pull him back to her side.

He chuckled softly and leaned sideways so that his upper body stretched over her, while his feet stayed planted on the floor. He kissed her gently and briefly before pulling back to smile at her. 

“Sorry, beautiful girl, I wish I could stay, but I’ve gotta go. And, I’m afraid, I won’t be able to come back at lunch today. I have a meeting at the club at noon.”

Y/N pouted, truly disappointed that she’d have to go all day without seeing him.

He grinned. “I know, trust me, I would much rather have a lunch meeting with you.” He kissed her again, deeper this time, before continuing. “But I’ve put off this meeting several times over the last few days and I can’t postpone it again.”

She nodded a little sadly and Dean kissed her once more, lingering over her lips for a moment and then pulling back reluctantly. “But I’ll tell you what, Lowen should be here this afternoon with your new dresses. What do you say you pick out a walking dress and come out on the town with me tonight?”

Y/N bit her lip, trying to hide both her excitement and trepidation. “Out on the town? Where would we go?”

Dean’s smile turned teasing. “Well, if I tell you, I'll spoil the surprise, but I have all the sights of New York to show you, so wear comfortable shoes.”

Y/N laughed lightly. “None of my shoes will be comfortable. Fashion demands otherwise.”

Dean nodded. “Then I guess I’ll just have to soothe your sore feet when we get back tonight.” He reached beneath the blanket at her feet and Y/N thought he might treat her to a quick foot massage, but instead, she squealed and yanked her feet away from him as his strong fingers began to tickle her toes mercilessly.

He laughed at her affronted expression before kissing her nose quickly and patting her bottom beneath the thick blanket it was covered in, and moving away to get ready.

Y/N dozed slightly as she listened to Dean moving around in the bathroom, enjoying the pleasantly domestic sounds of him washing and shaving. He emerged dressed and ready to leave, heading towards the door. But Y/N sat up and reached out to him, calling him back to her side.

“Kiss me goodbye?” She asked sweetly.

He came to sit on her side of the bed, leaning down to brush his lips over hers, ever so softly. “Goodbye, sweetheart. I’ll see you tonight.” He murmured against her lips, nibbling on them gently.

He smelled of shaving soap and tooth polish and Y/N breathed him in like an elixir. His hair was neatly combed and she didn’t want to ruffle it, so she slipped her hands up to his cheeks, sliding them along the smooth skin there. She knew that by the time she saw him again, his five o’clock shadow would be returned to chafe her skin in that most pleasurable way. 

He turned his head, pressing his lips into the palm of her hand. The action reminded her of the very first time they’d been alone together in the library. At the time, the brush of his mouth over her skin had seemed so scandalous, so brazen. But now, the relative innocence of the caress, the softness and affectionate nature of the gesture, solidified just how far they’d come - how far she’d come - in a matter of months.

And I can never go back.

The thought was fleeting and she banished it from her mind quickly, because it felt daunting; it felt like something too permanent. She didn’t want to think about the future and what it would look like, how it would feel. She wanted to live just right there, in that very moment, with Dean’s lips soft and warm against her skin, the scent of him sharp and heady. 

The future was lifetimes away. It had to be. She needed it to be.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters: @lyarr24 @lacilou @deans-spinster-witch @globetrotter28 @suckitands33

@alwaystiredandconfused @evznackles @jackles010378 @impala67rollingthroughtown @krazykelly

@candy-coated-misery0731 @envyaurora95 @spnwoman @deans-baby-momma @luvr4miya

@arcannaa @viviwatchestv @winharry @ladysparkles78

Dean Fics Only: @roonthelittlespoon920 @slamminmine @zepskies @safiyas-world @aylacavebear

Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom: @kazsrm67 @slut-for-evans-stan @sexyvixen7 @nancymcl @hobby27

@waywardcheshire

Everything Incl. Fan Edits: @k-slla @leigh70 @eevvvaa @kickingitwithkirk @foxyjwls007

@notinthislife50 @roseblue373 @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @avanatural @mrsjenniferwinchester

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @deangirl96 @stoneyggirl2

[houserautha]

At the risk of sounding horny (I am, hopelessly) could we pls possibly get a Feyd’s wife!reader bathtub sex blurb or mini fic 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

Welcome, all who are hopelessly horny may enter

Warnings: mention of rough sex and bruising, praise kink

“Come, wife.”

Dutifully, you peel yourself from the bed, mindful of your aching body. You follow Feyd into the bathroom and to the impressive, claw-footed tub that resides there, surrounded by marble and gold. Steam rises and curls in the air as he summons water to fill the tub, and you watch, more fatigued than dumbfounded, as he gathers expensive soaps and shampoos.

You’re not a stranger to rough sex. Especially not with your husband, who seems to lean more into the violence than not. And this session you feel blissfully bruised and abused, but he must have been able to tell that you needed extra attention afterward. Feyd helps you into the tub and you let out an embarrassing groan as the hot water immediately relaxes your muscles.

Wordlessly, he sets to work bathing you, lathering your hair with shampoo and using a cloth to wash your body from the blood and sweat and semen. Your eyes are closed the entire time as he lavishes you, feeling the tenseness subside with each stroke and touch of his hands.

Still, like a slumbering beast lifting its head to investigate a sound, you react when you feel his fingers at your clit. You open one eye, lazy, adrift in this watery, peaceful world but unable to resist this man. Feyd is now near the side of the tub, kneeling, pupils blown with lust and fascination, the bloodied water soaking his sleeve up to the elbow. He applies the slightest pressure to your sensitive clit, and says, “You always take it so well, wife. What a good girl you are. So pretty and obedient. And you would take more, wouldn’t you?”

You don’t have the clarity to speak so you just nod your head. Despite your muscles screaming out in pain, your cunt thoroughly fucked and sore, you tilt your head back and sigh as Feyd touches you. He’s gentle this time, almost curious, languishing between your folds and back to your clit before slipping inside. You seize at the intrusion, body protesting despite the desire pooling in your belly. This does nothing to deter Feyd, however, who derives satisfaction in making you orgasm, water sloshing over the edges of the tub as you writhe and grind up against his hand.

Effortlessly Feyd lifts you from the tub. You let him carry you — not to the bed, as it’s been sufficiently ruined — but to a seat by the window. Feyd lays you down then immediately covers your body with his own, mouth soft on your freshly scrubbed skin, fumbling for his pants. This time when he fucks you it is devoid completely of the previous vigor, a display of appreciation. He coasts his hands over the bruises and love marks he left on you, kissing each one.

And when you’re done he pulls you close to him and brushes his lips over the shell of your ear. “Such a good wife,” he murmurs.

[jinkicake]

Washing His Hair

Diluc, Kaeya, Tighnari, Xiao x Reader

A/N: I was tots excited to write this bc i wanted fluff,, happy belated birthday to tighnari (whats your name b.o.b so they calling you bob) yay bath time!

WC - 2k~

~~~

Diluc R.

Diluc is exhausted, it may not show because of his extreme dedication to maintaining a pleasant facade but, you know better. 

It’s why you wordlessly drag him to the bathroom in the early afternoon, forcing him to sit on the rim of the bathtub as you bend down to place the stopper in it. He silently watches you as you begin to fill the tub with water and sprinkle in a few aromatic flower petals. 

The way you treat him with such kindness baffles him. 

You kiss the corner of his eyes while removing his jacket, you cup his chin softly while easily pulling the ribbon out from his hair. There is a gentle side to your touch as you remove his gloves and kiss each of his rugged knuckles like they haven’t ended countless lives before. 

The man doesn’t understand how any of the archons could have blessed him with such a miracle. Your kindness shines through each of your actions and, for the briefest moment, it physically hurts Diluc. How could he ever measure up to someone who is worthy of your love and affection?

“Come on, get in the tub,” You gently pat the tops of his bare thighs and the action snaps Diluc from his internal demise. He blinks at you before doing as you ask, he lets you direct his body exactly as you want in the small porcelain space. “relax, Diluc.” 

With his hands resting on the rim of the bathtub, chest fully on display and out of the water, you reach over to grab his hand. You offer him a gentle smile before squeezing his hand in your own. 

Diluc can’t meet your own eyes as internal shame begins to creep up his throat, suffocating him. 

He doesn’t see the way your face drops or how you roll your eyes before grabbing one of the nice shampoos from Liyue off the counter (one he got especially for you). You place the container in his hand before grabbing a small bucket from the shower to wet his hair. 

Diluc continues to remain silent as you begin to work through his thick fiery locks. 

“Remember this?” The shampoo becomes his main focus as you grab it, holding it up before placing some of the substance in your hands. “You got it for me because the seller said it works great with thick hair,” 

Must you remember that? Diluc all but turns red as embarrassment flushes his cheeks, he doesn’t need a reminder of how rotten he spoils you. 

“We both have thick hair so we can share it, okay?” You place a kiss against his temple before bringing your hands up to his scalp, the immediate pleasure that your fingertips bring makes Diluc grip the edge of the tub. “You’re always so kind to me, but sometimes I want to spoil you.” 

At this, Diluc finally meets your eyes and uncertainty swims in his bright iris.

Any fear in his heart is squashed by the love pooling in your own eyes. 

“Won’t you let me?"

Kaeya A.

“Kaeya,” 

In such a blissful state, being surrounded by hot water, Kaeya can only let out a hum of contentment at your lovely voice. 

“Stop staring already.” 

He has to tear his eyes away from your soft body, beautifully crafted by each of the archons, to meet your hard glare. The frown on your lips and stubborn furrow of your brows makes his heart skip a beat. There is nothing more that the cavalry captain loves than sharing a bath with you. 

Even when you try to waterboard him by pouring a bucket of water over his head. 

“Angel-” Kaeya sighs before moving his large body, too big for the tub, so that he can rest against your chest instead of staring at it. His fruitful efforts are followed by a splash as water escapes the edges of the tub and falls onto the marble floor. 

“You’re cleaning that up,” You scold as your husband closes his eyes once again, resting his head against your shoulder. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to hide the shiver of pleasure that runs down his spine as your hands run over his shoulders. Your touch is gentle and delicate, lighting dancing across his smooth skin before dipping towards the front of his body. You tease him by sneakily running your fingertips along his chest, tracing random patterns solely to get a rise out of him. 

Just when Kaeya opens his mouth to say something, to insinuate that you should further lowering your hands, you instead reach for his head. He doesn’t open his eyes but he hears the light pop of a bottle and the puff of air that comes from it as you squeeze the container. There’s a wet noise that comes with the way you rub your hands together, causing the shampoo to soap up before you bring your hands to his scalp. 

Kaeya nearly moans at the feeling of your fingertips massaging the top of his head, he falls limp into your hold and completely relaxes into your touch. 

“My star, I adore you,” He groans as your talented fingers continue to knead circles against the root of his hair. The delightful feeling of your lips against his ear graces him and nearly causes Kaeya to gasp.

“Mhm, I know,” The soft kiss you leave against his jaw makes his heart clench painfully, it’s as if the worship he dedicates to you is finally starting to show. If you understand this mere fraction of love he has for you then Kaeya will continue working to make sure you see it all in its glory. 

Warm water runs over his face as you cup your hands and rinse the shampoo out of his hair. The suds fall all around him and Kaeya continues to keep his eyes closed until you finish. You reach for another bottle now and choose to condition the ends of his hair, forcing him to sit up in the tub after placing a kiss on the back of his neck. The man internally sighs. 

Being pampered by you is something Kaeya will never take for granted. 

Tighnari 

Whenever Tighnari has to suffer the bitter fate of being separated from you, he promises his return with a gift. He likes to pick flowers that are native to the area he is exploring, flowers that match your beauty and ones that you will be sure to like. Oftentimes, he brings back pieces of nature with him but this time he decided to repurpose what he found for you. 

Locals told him of the secrets that salt possesses, if combined with the right ingredients it could be turned into a substance used while soaking. 

Tighnari knew you would love to try it. 

He placed the pebbles in a wooden box and locked it for safekeeping until giving it to you. And just like he predicted, your face lit up upon sight of it. 

“Oh, what is it?” The sweet aromatic scent grew heavier as you toyed with the tiny rocks against your fingers. 

“Salt, it’s for the bath,” Tighnari can only watch as you immediately get up and head for your bathroom. Seconds after, he hears the sound of the faucet and the sweet call of his name.

“Come on, let’s take a bath together!” It doesn’t surprise the forest ranger to see your pants discarded on the floor, all that you’re left in is one of his shirts as you impatiently wait for the tub to fill up.

“Put a little bit of the salt in there,” Tighnari reaches around you to pick up a few of the pebbles and scatter them into the water. Not a second goes by before you mimic him and do the same. His large hand guides your own to sprinkle in more until he grabs the box and closes it. Tighnari places it on your counter before removing a few layers of his own clothing. 

“I’m getting in now.” You don’t wait for him or for the water to finish rising before you get into the bathtub. The liquid sits just below your chest and you cup some of it with sincere fascination as you bring it up to your face. “It smells so good, Tighnari!”

He’s quick to join you and sits on the opposite end of the small space, making sure that you’re both facing each other. 

“You brought more of the oils too, right?” At the chance of seeing such a hopeful look on your face, how could Tighnari not? “Thank you!” His nod causes you to squeal and at the sight of the tiny bottles, you lean forward to kiss the tip of his nose. It’s a sweet action that causes his ears to relax downward, folding over at the shower of your praise. 

Tighnari only hopes his tail doesn’t create too much tension against the water as it thumps against your tub. The new feeling of your hands in his hair always makes the ranger happier than anything. He lives for your delicate touch, how your fingers comb through his hair and avoid his sensitive ears perfectly. 

Although he’ll never say it, he adores having you wash his hair. 

Xiao

“I can wash my own hair,” Xiao softly grumbles but, makes no effort to swat your hands away. He doesn’t move a single inch and continues to sit perfectly still while you continue to gently tug at his hair. 

Sometime during his travels, Xiao came across a vacant hot spring and it quickly became one of his favorite spots in Liyue. Not because he enjoys the relaxation but for the sole reason of how your face lights up every time you step in the bath. 

The chilly outside air pairs perfectly with the hot water and you make a point to sit on the stone outside of the tub to get the best of both features. 

From where he rests in the water with his arms crossed over his chest, Xiao moves each time you tilt him back to rinse the shampoo from his hair. 

“I think I’ll shampoo you twice today,” Your quiet hum makes Xiao slowly open one of his eyes as he turns to look at you. His subtle side-eye makes you laugh. “your hair is thick and I want to make sure it’s all clean.” 

All it takes is a simple peck against his cheek to get Xiao to tilt his head back and give you full reigns to his scalp. Right now, it would be a waste for the adeptus to not look at the open night sky. His dim eyes look over the stars, connecting each one while your presence calms the ongoing torture within his soul. When you’re near, not even the most powerful presence of his karmic debt could bother him. 

“Tilt,” You place your fingers under his jaw to lean his head back and rinse his hair once again. Xiao waits patiently to finish before he stands up from the hot spring and sits beside you on the stone. “wait, I’m not done yet.”

“You’re not?” Xiao watches curiously as you grab another bottle from your bag, like before, you place the substance in your hands before distributing the product along your fingers. You reach up and lather the ends of Xiao’s hair, focusing on the two long strands framing his face. After, you grab a comb. 

The assortment of toiletries you brought tonight makes Xiao want to laugh. 

“I have to condition your hair,” Your voice is soft as you concentrate on combing his hair and once you’re happy with the results, you rinse off your hands and slide back into the hot water. “now we wait.” There’s a content look on your face as you place your head in his lap and stare up at the night sky. 

Well, you would be looking at the starry sky if not for the adeptus looking over you. 

“Wait for what?” Xiao stares intently down at you as some of his conditioner falls in droplets against your face. You immediately reach up and push his head away so that he sits up straight. 

“We have to wait for the conditioner to condition before I can rinse it out.”

Xiao just softly sighs, he couldn’t understand you even if he wanted to.

[inkofthebrain]

Imperial

[Paul Arteries x Reader] 3751 words

Paul Atreides, Duke of Arakkis, takes the hand of the Emperor’s eldest daughter for the throne, yet neither are pleased. They know they must learn to be civil, but what will it cost them…

Tags: post-Dune 2, strays from book canon, no use of y/n, dune typical everything, Corinno!Reader, slow burn, enemies to lovers kind of? ARRAIGNED MARRIAGE TROPE EXCEPT BOTH PARTIES ARE PISSY ABOUT IT, not proofread LOL.

Warnings: Dune typical themes, motifs, and actions

A/n: Ur gonna hate me but I’m splitting what was originally going to be this chapter in half. It’s getting longggg.

Previous chapter Next chapter

Dune masterlist

Seven———

The next day you were awakened by the sound of knocking at your bedroom door. You slowly sit up in bed, stretching your shoulders and back as you rouse yourself from sleep.

One of the house maids is at your door, she bows respectfully before placing a robe down on a nearby chair.

“My lady, you have been summoned to the baths,” she says politely, “they have prepared everything for you.”

You smile at the maids statement, feeling a slight jolt of amusement. You had almost forgotten about the promised pampering session, and the sudden reminder fills you with delight.

The maid moves aside as you rise from your bed and change into the robe.

She leads you out of the bedroom and down the hallway. You follow behind her, your steps light. The estate is bustling with activity, servants scurrying around making last-minute adjustments and preparations for the upcoming celebrations.

The bath chamber is a large, elegant affair, the walls and floors made of polished white marble. The ceiling is painted with images of clouds and the sky, making you feel like you are outdoors. It is dimly lit, a soft glow emanating from the walls, lighting the various bathtubs and areas for massage.

The bath chamber is staffed with a dozen or so servants who spring into action as you enter. Preparing bath salts and oils, massages and wraps, and a myriad of other treatments. The attendants move efficiently and quickly, a product of their years of experience.

You step into a tub of lukewarm water and soak for a bit before an attendant helps you out and guides you to a plush table. You lay down and she applies massage oils and works on your muscles. You let out a soft moan of satisfaction as the tightness and soreness vanishes from your muscles. Eventually another attendant starts applying a mask of clay and honey all over your body while another performs a manicure-pedicure.

It is pure bliss, every sensation of your body being taken care of to your heart's content. You can hardly remember a time when you felt so relaxed and content.

You have several hours to yourself to rejuvenate. You spend the day reading, soaking in the various baths and pools. The soft white pillows and couches are as comfortable as any bed.

You lose track of time, simply enjoying the various sensory experiences as you immerse yourself in the water and soak up the scents and aromas surrounding you. The staff keep your food trays topped up, and new trays of fruit and snacks are continually laid out for you.

You hear the faint sound of footsteps approaching, Delia’s distinctive, confident stride, her steps light and swift. The bath attendants bow politely as she enters, and she acknowledges them with a respectful nod.

As she makes her way over to you she rests one arm against the edge of the bath you are sitting in. Her gaze is soft and caring, her voice gentle as she speaks.

“You look positively radiant, my lady.”

You smile at her, your eyes glimmering in the light, “I feel radiant,” You reply, stretching your arm out to take her hand. She gives you a curt nod of acknowledgement before taking a breath.

“The guests have started to arrive for tomorrow.” Delia informs you, “You have a few hours to yourself before you have your final dinner with the Duke and his mother prior to your wedding day”

Her words snap you back to reality. Your smile slightly falters as you come to the realization that your time alone is coming to an end.

“Yes… The guests have started arriving haven't they.” you trail off, a subtle expression of longing crossing your face as you glance around the baths once more. “I will miss this.”

She gives your hands a light squeeze. Delia always carries this soft sympathy which almost breaks your heart—There are moments where she looks at you as though you were her own daughter.

“I know, my lady” She replies before releasing your hands and steps back, “let us get ready” she says gently, as if sensing your reluctance.

There was no point in resisting or protesting. There was work to be done, political connections to forge and strengthen.

— — —

You follow her through the hallways, a flurry of servants scurrying about around you. The castle is a hive of activity, people rushing to and fro, last minute preparations.

Eventually, you reach the lavish doors to the dining hall, pausing as you await for one of the guards to open it for you.

You take a breath, steeling yourself for what comes next. The dinner itself was a lavish affair, the courses served on delicate porcelain china and the crystal glasses glimmering in the candlelight. Paul was already waiting at the table with Jessica seated beside him.

Jessica leads the conversation, her words witty and filled with excitement for the days ahead. Eventually, the conversation turns to the political situation. You take a sip of your wine, your thoughts immediately turning to the political situation. You have spent years preparing for this moment, and you do not intend to waste the opportunity. You speak in a confident, persuasive tone, outlining your insights and strategies.

Paul leans forward, his attention fixated on you, his admiration for your skills and abilities evident in his expression.

“There is one final issue we must discuss,” Jessica says, her tone serious as she sets down her glass of wine, the delicate crystal making a soft sound as it hits the table. Her blue eyes are firm, and there is no hint of hesitation or reluctance when she begins to speak.

“You need to have children, my lady,” she says bluntly.

Your heart sinks, and you feel the anxiety of the future rising again. Her words are direct and unapologetic; she is not attempting to soften the blow. She is simply stating a fact, and it hits you like a gut punch. “Your role as a bride, especially of your stature, necessitates heirs. It is a political need.”

She is not simply referring to a desire to produce children eventually, she is talking about immediately. A child will further legitimize the Atreides in the Imperial family, and a royal couple will be expected to waste no time in doing their duty.

“ I am aware of my duties as a wife,” you peer into her blue eyes, “I know what must be done”

Dinner ends with a soft murmur of praise and approval. Paul's attention remains fixated on you for a moment, his expression serious and thoughtful. He stands up, and Jessica's gaze lingers on you for a moment before she too stands. The servants quickly begin to clear up the table.

Paul offers you his arm, and you take it, allowing him to lead you from the dining room back to your shared hallway.

“Quite the day tomorrow hm?” You end your sentence with a small hum.

Paul nods solemnly, a soft smile playing across his face. "It will be a historic occasion," he says, leaning his head near yours to whisper softly, "I do not know if I will be able to sleep tonight." His tone is sincere and sympathetic, and there is a hint of nervousness at the realization of what he is facing.

You let out a small chuckle, “Likewise, I might have Delia sedate me.” Paul laughs softly at your joke. There is a moment of genuine amusement in his expression. He likes the way you handle stress, the way you deal with tension and anxiety with humor. It is a glimpse of your true personality, behind the carefully crafted mask of poise and diplomacy.

He takes a deep breath, as to steel himself, and you can tell that he has moved into a more serious frame. He stops and faces you, his expression gentle but resolute.

“Try to get some rest tonight,” he says, “tomorrow is an important day for both of us.”

Both of you were well aware that tomorrow will mark a pivotal turning point in your lives as you come to a stop outside the door to your suite, a brief moment of silence hangs over you like a cloud.

“Tomorrow our destinies are intertwined” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, “are you ready?”

Your heart flutters for a moment, and you take a deep breath. You have never been this uncertain, yet somehow you feel more sure of yourself than ever before.

You give him a firm nod, your expression set and determined. He bows his head slightly in understanding and steps away, continuing down the hall. As his footsteps recede into the distance you watch him go. As he approaches the door to his room he pauses for a moment, his silhouette framed in the doorway. He turns back one more time, his hand resting on the doorframe. His eyes meet yours and there is a moment of understanding passing between the two of you, as if a silent promise has been made.

He steps through the doorway and disappears from view, leaving you alone in the darkened, emptied corridor. You can hear the distant sounds of the servants making preparations and you feel a sudden wave of anxiety wash over you. Your heart is pounding and you can feel your nerves beginning to fray. You take a deep breath and try to calm yourself; there is nothing to be done but to get some rest and prepare yourself for the inevitable. Tomorrow will be a long, emotionally draining day, and you need to be at your best.

With that you turn to face your chambers, entering and shutting the door firmly behind you. Once you fully enter you are met with the warm glow of candles and the comfortable surrounding of your personal space. Delia is bustling about, ensuring that everything is in order, and you can sense her nervousness and excitement.

You can see the glint of anticipation in her eyes as she smiles warmly, “My lady,” she says, her voice soft and respectful, “are you ready for tomorrow?”

You smile slightly, giving yourself a moment to adjust to the idea, “as i’ll ever be,” you say quietly, your tone laced with a mix of trepidation.

“Of course, my lady,” Delia says, nodding in understanding. She immediately begins to rummage through your wardrobe, pulling out a soft nightgown and various other items for you to change into.

You watch her for a moment, your mind racing with thoughts and emotions. You try to push aside the anxiety and focus on the task at hand. Sleep.

Delia hands you a sedative, which you gladly take, and you wash it down with the cup of sleepy time tea sat on your nightstand. With one final huff you climb into your bed, letting the soft sheets envelop you as Delia begins to blow out the various candles positioned around your room. Soon you are in complete darkness as you hear your dor click shut, signaling her leave.

Your eyelids grow heavy as you start to feel the weight of sleep pulling you into the darkness. The soft moonlight filtering through the curtains becomes hazy and distorted, the shadows dancing on the walls like a silent, dreamlike show. Your mind begins to wander, fragmented images and emotions flash through your mind like a slideshow of memory and imagination. For the first time since your arrival on Caladan, you do not dream.

You are pulled from your sleep as light filters in through the, now open, curtains, landing on your face.

“Goodmorning my lady” Delia says, standing near your window, “I'm sorry to wake you, but the day has begun.” The words send a jolt through your body causing you to sit up in bed, the reality of the day quickly coming to the forefront of your mind. You take a deep breath in an attempt to collect yourself,

“Thank you Delia,” you say as you stretch out your arms, feeling the knots and kinks from sleeping begin to fade. You swing your legs over the bed and stride to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face as you grip the sink and stare at yourself in the mirror.

You hear the sound of your door opening and the ruffeling of dresses. Delia. You exit the bathroom and see an array of morning dresses laid out for you.

Delia greets you with a smile and instantly delves into the schedule for the day, “Your schedule starts early I'm afraid,” she says, her tone earnest and efficient. “Breakfast is served in the small dining area to the left of the main hall, Lady Jessica will be joining you today. You will then be escorted to a dressing room to prepare you for the ceremony. The ceremony will be in the great hall at noon,” she takes a breath, “then there will be a reception and a few diplomatic meetings scheduled in the latter half of the day.”

Her words are like a deluge, washing over you like a tidal wave of responsibilities and expectations. You take a breath, trying to absorb everything she's said.

Soon you are swiftly dressed and on your way to breakfast, Delia trailing at your side. As you reach the small room you see Jessica waiting, dressed in a deep red gown, her hair pulled back into a simple yet elegant braid. She smiles as you enter, her eyes filled with pride and excitement.

“Good morning,” she says as you take a seat against her, her voice is warm as she busies herself with making you a cup of tea. “Did you sleep well?”

“As well as can be expected. I'm looking forward to the day,” you reach for the teacup, taking a sip of the steaming liquid. It helps calm your nerves, even if it's just for the moment that you feel the warmth go down your throat.

Jessica nods, a slight smile playing on her lips.

“Today is a momentous occasion, and it’s important to start the day off on the right foot. I have full confidence in you. You will do well today.” Her words sink in, bolstering your resolve, and confidence. You take another sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through your body even further.

“Thank you, Lady Jessica.” You say, smiling faintly.

“”Of course” her expression softened to one of affection, “you are soon to be part of the family.” With that, she turns her attention to the breakfast spread laid out in front of you, gesturing for you to help yourself to the various dishes laid out before you.

The breakfast is an assortment of simple yet delicious fare; fresh fruit, pastries, eggs, and a selection of the finest meats and cheeses. You help yourself to a few items, relishing the taste and texture of the food as you welcome the distraction from the anxiety swirling in your mind.

Through the meal, you both chat softly about the various guests who will be attending the ceremony and the different diplomatic interactions that will no doubt take place.

Jessica offers her perspective and advice in a way that is both insightful and reassuring, and you begin to feel more prepared for the day’s events. You are aware that many of her inputs are that of the Bene Gesserit, and the more in detail she goes about the politics you slowly start to realize the true influence of this faction in Imperial politics.

As you finish your breakfast, Jessica dabs her lips with a napkin and looks at you, “It’s nearly time,” she says, her tone steady yet excited.

You nod to the attendant, who quickly steps forward to escort you to the changing room. Once you approach the lavish room, Delia immediately springs into action. She dismisses the servants and grabs ahold of your arm, pulling you into the room.

“Quickl, my lady, we must get you dressed into the ceremony attire.” Her voice is ecstatic as she helps you out of the breakfast gown and quickly guides you to a table where your gown is laid out.

It is a work of art, made from the finest silk, and shimmers softly in the light. As you begin to step into it you feel the silken fabric glide over your body, the weight and texture immediately grounding and empowering you.

Within moments, with the help of various other attendants, you are dressed. The gown fits your frame perfectly.

You gaze into a mirror adjacent to where you are standing and it all begins to become very real. You are to be Empress, your father is to be executed, and you are to marry. WIth a sigh you turn away and stride to take your seat at the vanity, where the hairstylist is waiting to do your hair alongside the makeup artist.

In a whirl of powders and sprays your hair is weaved into an elegant braid, a few strands laying around your face, which glimmers in the light. You close your eyes as your jewelry is put on and a few adornments are put in your braid.

As you stand all the attendants watch in awe, you are befitting th4e elegant and regal occasion of the day.

“You look magnificent” Delia says, adoration dripping in her voice, “Are you ready?” She asks softly.

With that you take a deep breath to gather your composure, smoothing out the gown with your hands. Despite the nerves still fluttering deep inside you, you feel a newfound sense of confidence and poise. “Yes,” you say, voice steady and determined, “I’m ready.”

With that Delia takes hold of your arm, giving it a light squeeze, as you turn to leave the room, your gown swishing softly with each step. You are led to a small, private room adjacent to the great hall. The room is dimly lit, the heavy velvet drapes drawn closed to create a sense of enclosure and solitude. As you step inside, you can her the soft murmur of voices and chatter from the other room, the sounds of the bustling guests filtering through the thick wood door.

You take a moment to steady yourself, taking deep breaths as you look around the room, taking in the simple yet elegant decorations and furniture. A small chair is placed by the door, and a small table holds a tray of light refreshments, untouched and waiting.

“Wait here while I make one final round to ensure everything is ready” Delia says softly, “I'll be back in just a moment my lady” She then slips out of the room, closing the door gently behind her.

You are left alone in the room, the sound of your own breathing echoing softly in the quiet space. You take a moment to ground yourself, closing your eyes and focusing on your breath, slowing it and deepening it until your heart rate has slowed to a steady beat.

The silence in the room is both calming and claustrophobic, and you find yourself wandering around the small space, your hands touching the smooth fabric of the drapes and the cool, polished wood of the furniture. The wait feels endless, but you know that you must remain patient and composed until the time comes.

The sounds from the great hall seem to grow louder and more insistent, the excited chatter and laughter seeping through the closed door. You can almost picture the scene unfolding just a few feet away from you, the guests gathering and taking their seats, the ceremony attendants going about their duties.

You can hear the sound of the orchestra playing a beautiful instrumental piece, the melodic strains filling the air. It’s a signal that the ceremony is about to begin, and you can hear the guests in the great hall hushing and settling into their seats. You can imagine Paul preparing to walk out, his steps measured and steady, his presence commanding and regal.

You stand near the door, listening intently for any further sounds or cues that would indicate that it's your turn to walk out. The anticipation is almost overwhelming, and in the quiet of the small room, your thoughts and emotions threaten to drown you.

suddenly, the door creaks open, and Delia steps into the room, her expression calm and composed. "it's time, my lady," she says softly, her voice carrying an air of urgency. "the ceremony is about to begin. are you ready?"

your heart skips a beat at her words, and you nod, gathering your composure and courage. you take one final deep breath, smoothing out your gown and straightening your shoulders. "yes," you reply, your voice steady and firm. "I'm ready."

Delia nods in approval, her eyes gleaming softly in the dim light. "you're going to do splendidly," she whispers, her voice tinged with a sense of pride. "just remember to stay composed, and everything will be alright."

with those words, she moves towards you, giving a final inspection to make sure that everything is in order. She adjusts a stray lock of hair, her touch gentle and reassuring.

Finally satisfied, she steps back and motions for you to follow her out. "Let's go," she says, her voice soft but firm. "The ceremony awaits."

you take a deep breath and follow her out of the room, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet that lines the hallway. your heart is pounding in your chest as you approach the great hall, the sound of the music and the murmured conversations growing louder with every step.

the great hall doors are massive, carved from the finest wood and polished to a mirror-like finish. the intricate patterns and motifs etched into the wood are a testament to the skill and craftsmanship that went into its creation. as you approach the doors, you can hear the sounds of the ceremony attendants bustling about on the other side, readying themselves for the ceremony. the air is thick with anticipation and excitement, and you can almost feel the energy simmering just beyond the threshold.

As the doors slowly swing open, you see the great hall spread before you, a grand space filled with guests and attendants. The room is bathed in a warm, golden light, and the air is filled with the scent of roses and incense. As you step forward to the aisle, the eyes of the guests turn to you, and a hushed silence falls over the room.

———

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[the-kr8tor]

Mudwood Manor

Pairing: Fae! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.1k

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mention, TW Blood, CW injury.

The Fall Masterlist

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Part I >>> Part II

You lay awake alone on the plush mattress that's not your own. Morning light filtering through the curtains, shining warmth right on your cheek. Your hand roaming around the soft fur of the blanket as the clock ticks slowly to eight. Eyes above the detailed swirling patterns on the bed's canopy, mind drifting back to the home you've left just a few days ago.

Tick.

Taking the ad for this house-sitting gig went better than you thought it would be. Thinking the house you would be watching over will just be a regular house in an urban subdivision. Not an estate full of ancient history situated in the middle of nowhere with only an elderly dog as a companion.

Tock.

At least it's better than your dead end job that makes you feel your soul is getting sucked with every hour you stay on the eighties musky carpeted floors, tapping away your entire life on the grainy screen of the corporate issued computer. The pay's good, better than what you were getting before anyway, even though it's only five months of house sitting it's way above your salary grade. You thank whatever entity out there that blew over the newspaper that literally landed on your lap while waiting for the bus stop, the 'help wanted' page open and glaring right at you. You only wish the job's longer though.

Tick.

The house being nice is an understatement, all oak and narra floors, fixtures and furniture made of the same wood. No sign of modernity in the entire estate. Even the kitchen is in an old style, well except for the coffee maker and microwave. Every hall and wall is covered in oil paintings, portraits of people dressed in old garb keep watch of your every move. The house creaks and shrieks during the late hours of the cold autumn night, always prompting you to keep your eyes tightly closed in an attempt to tamp down your curiosity.

Tock.

It's secluded enough that the air here feels crisp and cleaner than in the city. Trees whisper in the wind, moss clinging to its trunks. You suspect the house is as old as the woods that surround it. With vines curled and looped around the house's exterior and curved stained glass windows decorate its walls. Mudwood Manor they call it for every time it rains, mud gathers around the estate, threatening to swallow you like quick sand.

Chime!

The old grandfather clock's hand reaches eight, the sound echoes around the large room you've settled in. With an exhale, you reluctantly sit up, feet cold from the icy floor. Yawning, you wipe the sleep off your face, bones crying out in protest.

Lumbering your way through the usual morning routine, you change out of your pajamas even though no one else would see you in it, you still wear your usual day clothes, always feeling like you have to dress appropriately in this opulent house. If jeans and a jumper is considered appropriate in the massive estate.

The bathroom is no different than the rest of the house. With the large stark white bathtub in the middle of its tiled floors, twin sinks covered in dark marble, golden faucets squeak open as you turn the knob to brush your teeth. The entire bathroom is as big as your flat back in the city, you scoff at the extravagance of it all.

You like to think the owner of the place fits well with the manor, as eccentric and elegant as their home– all pearls and gold rings, silk and cashmere on their body. But alas you've never met him or them personally, only talking details on the telephone, his gruff voice vibrating against the receiver. They leave the key under the large mat after you've driven three hours to get there. The only clue you have of them actually existing is the instructions they've left you. The note now pinned on the fridge stocked full of food that could last you the entire five months, not to mention the large pantry that could feed an entire village.

You've got everything you'll ever need to survive five months alone. The thought scares you for a bit, but with the silence, fresh air and an entire library of books that you've never thought you could read in your lifetime, the loneliness isn't all bad, the place calms you down; if not for the bouts of sadness, you could see this place as your home for the time being.

The old border collie waits for you in the kitchen, mismatched eyes staring at your form, her tongue lolling on the side, greeting you with what you see as a smile.

"Morning, old Nellie" you greet back with a quick pet on her fluffy head, taking the time to scratch behind her ears. She wags her tail happily, while her eyes are closed in content. You've decided to talk from time to time so that you don't lose your voice, which Nellie appreciates the chatter.

You feed Nellie her breakfast first before fixing one yourself. She eats it in glee. The instructions written in neat cursive jumps at you every morning before opening the fridge.

You can't help but read it again.

1. Do not let anyone in.

You thought that was reasonable enough, it's not your place to invite people in here anyway.

2. Do not wipe the salt line on the doors and windows.

Now that's weird, you've always thought, but to each their own. The salt probably helps with keeping out the smell or rodents. Right?

3. The house is old, the sounds at night are from the metal pipes and scaffolding. Nothing to worry about.

Creepy, it's not like the place needs an extra creep factor added in it.

4. Feed Nellie three times a day without fail. Take her on walks around the estate every morning and before the sun sets.

That's alright, taking care of pets was part of the deal anyway. And it doesn't hurt that Nellie's a good dog to hang around with.

5. Do not in any circumstance go to the woods.

6. Wear the necklace at all times.

Your eyes drift over to the simple circular metal necklace sitting on the counter top, scoffing, you chose not to wear it just because an eccentric millionaire tells you to.

7. Only eat and drink the food I have provided.

You don't think you want to meet the owners now with how creepy they are just based on his instructions. Possessive much?

8. Be wary.

A shiver runs down your spine by just reading those two words.

You shake it off, opening the fridge, nothing piques

your interest this morning. Huffing, you have a hankering for fresh bread, alas you've eaten the last loaf yesterday. The strawberry jam inside the fridge mocks you. You recall on your drive to the manor you've passed by a small village, you're sure the place has a bakery or even a café in it. You crave a different scenery, and to use your voice other than for talking to Nellie.

Turning around, you put your hands on your hips, smiling at your companion who licks at the last bit of food in her bowl.

"What do you say for a stroll, Nellie?" She tilts her head in question, ears perking up, tail wagging excitedly.

—

You've never felt more isolated from civilization while walking towards the village, no houses run along the bumpy road, just miles and miles of trees with its aging wood, wild violets swaying around its trunks. The tall grass makes it hard to see the path. Mist blanketing and moistening the soil.

The walk was a lot longer than you thought it would be, now you're absolutely starving after walking for almost an hour. Nellie wasn't complaining though, for an older dog she seems to have so much energy in her. The village has clearly seen history, with its cobblestone streets, iron lampposts and ancient bricks. The fog thickens, blanketing the roofs of the village like marshmallow fluff.

You tie her leash around a lamp post, petting her fluffy head, you instruct her to sit and stay. She obliges, staring happily at you through her blue and brown eyes.

"Good girl, I'll be back in a flash" you make a mental note of buying her a treat for being such a good sport while you drag her from the manor.

Entering the shop, the bells chime signaling your arrival. Freshly baked bread wafts your senses as various meat is on display over at the counter, waiting for your perusal. You smell the soup of the day, judging by the aroma, you deduce it being butter squash soup, your stomach rumbles at the thought.

The modest shop has quite a few people in it. They chatter amongst their friends whilst eating breakfast and drinking their morning tea. Another patron enters behind you, she greets everyone by name, while the others immediately greet her the same. Well, except for a group of strangers sitting at the far end, they pay her no mind at all. It's a small village, you never doubted for a second that everyone would know every person that lives here. You've anticipated it actually, so used to being alienated from the crowd, you haven't noticed the old woman beckoning you over with a smile.

"Bonnie?" She calls for the third time.

"Oh! Sorry, I was thinking what to order" you move closer to the counter, the chill from the cold cuts display seeps through your jumper.

"You're the new caretaker at the old manor I presume?" She grins sweetly, showing her smile lines around her lips.

"House-sitter, I'm only here for five months" you're wary about telling her vital information, but she's an old woman. What's the harm in telling her that?

"Oh, I see he's going for a quick business trip this time. He would usually take an entire year away, y'know" her thick accent makes it hard for you to understand some of her words. Nonetheless, you don't miss the vital information about your mysterious employer. "But I don't gossip" she chuckles, "what will it be, deary?"

"You know Mr. O'hara, the owner?"

"Aye, known him since he was a lad. Good kid he was." She shakes her head. "There I go gossiping again, what are you havin'?"

You want more answers to feed your curiosity, but you don't want to pester the poor woman. "A BLT with cheese if you have them, lightly toasted and some of the soup, please." she nods, heading over to her station to prepare your sandwich when an older man chides in your conversation.

"Oh please, Orla y'know stopping yourself from gossiping just hurts you more" he laughs from his belly, white beard bouncing as he guffaws with his friends sitting him with.

"This" Orla, gestures from you to her. "Was a private conversation, where's your manners?"

"Don't know where I last put it!" He laughs again, shaking the wooden table in front of him. "Miss, let me guess, O'hara gave you those crazy rules?"

You perk up at the mention of the list. "Yeah, he did. How'd you know?"

He shrugs while the other patrons listen in, "he does the same thing to his other caretakers, there's a 'be wary' one, right?"

"Yes, it's really creepy"

The old woman pipes up, talking over her shoulder as she slices your sandwich. "It's a necessary evil after what happened to his daughter"

"What happened to his daughter?" You ask with trepidation.

"Don't tell me you actually believe that, old woman?" The older man argues back.

"Believe what?" You feel like there's an inside joke you keep missing.

"She was taken by them." Orla, turns around with your soup packed in a tupperware. You look at her questioningly.

"Bullshit if you ask me" the old man mumbles behind his mug. He sees your confused look, "she's talking about the fae" you thank him with a nod.

"It's true!" She wraps your sandwich inside foil, carefully putting it inside the paper bag. "There's no logical answer on where she is! Now it's just O'Hara in that massive estate."

"Kid just ran away, that's all!" Another older man argues back.

"Pssh," Orla swats him away with her hand, he turns away with a scoff. She turns back towards you, ringing your order up in the cashier. "Just do what his list says and you'll be fine" she says it like a warning to never stray far from the rules.

"Why do you think it's the fae?" You give her the payment she needs.

Humming, she clicks her tongue. "Just know it's them."

"Okay, um thank you" drifting away, she holds your arm back, taking your attention again.

Orla looks at you with wide eyes. "You know about them, yes?"

"Yes, like don't eat their food or you'll get stuck or don't give them your name or say thank you. I've heard the folk stories"

"Not just a story. The wood sings and they crave an audience." she lets go of your arm, your breath hitching, goosebumps appear on your skin.

You shake the thought, or try to at least.

The door chimes as you leave. Nellie lays on the pavement, tail wagging as she sees you come back to her side.

"Hi, got you something" she stands up, barking at you in excitement. "Okay, okay, here" Chuckling, you take a slice of bacon from your sandwich, giving it to her.

Nellie carefully takes it from your hand without biting your fingers, she chews happily.

"Good?" You scratch behind her fluffy ear. "Let's go back" untying her leash, you juggle the sandwich and her lead with your hands. The horror stories you've been told in your youth echoes in your mind, as your soft footfalls on the moist pavement. Wind rushes past you, pushing you back towards the manor.

—

Arriving inside the gates of Mudwood Manor, you gaze at the large brick building. It casts a shadow over you, its stature imposing. Fading bricks and trellises crawling with overgrown vines that's starting to wither and turn dark with bits of oranges and red still clinging to its last life. The large red door of the main entrance adds to your uneasiness. You attribute the fear from what the deli owner told you, the woods don't look much better. Tall trees with leaves so thick it blocks sunlight from hitting the undergrowth. From where you're standing, darkness seems to prevail inside. The thick fog added to the eeriness of the scene. It drapes over the treeline like curtains, swirling smoke falling down to the tips of your shoes, hiding something behind you can't quite see.

Just staring from the woodland edge gives you a sense of belonging with every second you stand idle. You have no idea why this feeling encapsulates you. The wind tries to push you towards the dark, flashes of autumn colored leaves swirl past. Eyelashes fluttering in the wind, your lips part as you listen to the flora dancing in the wind, as if it beckons you over. Daring you to cross the edge.

You wake up from the trance as Nellie growls at a squirrel taunting her from the ground. She pulls at her leash, the rope taut, your hand aches at the burn. You let go of the paper bag, half eaten soup spills over the grass, now holding the leash with both hands, you struggle to control the border collie.

"Nellie, calm down!" You yelp in pain when Nellie lunges, escaping your hold. The rope leaves angry marks on your palms, skin aching from the piercing pain. Nellie runs, following the grey squirrel into the woods. You can hear her barks fading in the distance. "Nellie! Come back!" You yell but it's futile as the old dog disappears from view.

"Fuck!" Without thinking, you run after her, legs carrying you further into the thick trees. The fog parts, opening the way. Eyes roaming the moss covered soil for her footprints. "Nellie!"

You're gonna lose your job, the thought makes you run faster. Tripping on a rock, you land on your already injured hand, dirt and grime sticking to the angry gashes, blood mixing with soil. Ignoring the pain, you push through the thicket.

Running, muscles aching, there's a stitch on your side as you stop to catch your breath. Hands on your thighs, you inhale and exhale. Nellie's footprints are barely visible under all the green and orange. Standing to your full height, your heart thumping like a drum under your ribcage. Eyes widening at the darkness that envelopes you, whirling around, fear overtakes your entire being.

You're lost.

Everywhere you look, identical trees fill your vision, cold seeping into your bones, smoke escapes your parted lips. Fingers turning stiff, you turn around when you hear Nellie's familiar bark.

"Nellie! Come here, girl!" You clap your hands to get her attention. "Nellie!"

Another bark echoes out in the dark, with only bits of sunlight filtering through the thicket, you let your other senses guide you to the sound. Speed walking, dry leaves crunch under your shoes, you call out to Nellie again. Narrowly avoiding a tree root protruding from the ground, you step over it so you don't land face first into the moist soil.

You stop when silence permeates the woods again. Standing still, a ring of mushrooms at your feet, you breathe heavily. "Nellie!" Frustrated, you yell again.

Instinctively stepping past a mushroom, you move your neck around, eyes roaming, looking for her white and black fur. Your palms land to your clammy forehead, wincing when you graze your injury.

"Fuck!" You stop circling around when the woods seem to expand right in front of your eyes, moving, flinging away, adding to the acres of wooded land. Vision focusing and unfocusing as the expanse extends further away. Fear once again blankets your nerves. Your mind claws at you to keep running.

"Lost?" A deep voice asks behind you. Alluring, tempting you to answer back.

Your blood suddenly runs cold. Primal fear makes your heart leap out of your chest.

Light suddenly appears behind you, your shadow gets taller and taller until it finally leaves you. Alone, you don't dare look behind you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up despite the warmth radiating from behind. Trepidation howls inside you.

Blood rushes in your ears, knuckles tighten, nails digging into skin as crimson drips on the tall grass below.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, curiosity wins over you.

You dare look behind.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 46: Oliver's Ballet

Prev > Masterlist > Next

September 1925

TW: mind control, captivity

Oliver was trying to keep his hands from shaking as he walked up the stairs to the forbidden third floor.

It was the evening of the ballet, and his master had given him his instructions the previous night. He was to wake up before sunset, bathe, don the expertly tailored shirt and pants that had been provided to him, make coffee, and then head to Alexander's room to attend on him. Oliver wasn't entirely sure what that meant, and his nervousness over dispatching his duties warred with his nervousness about being an embarrassment at a fancy performance. He'd slept better the past two days, owning to Katherine's encouragement and his master's feeding, but now he couldn't help being slightly on edge.

Find happiness wherever you can...

He would do his best to follow her advice and enjoy himself tonight. It certainly wasn't every day he got to witness a ballet.

The oil lamp he was holding in his other hand sputtered and flickered as he climbed the stairs and apprehensively knocked on the dark wooden door that guarded his master's private sanctum. The door creaked open, revealing a very tired looking vampire in a fluffy robe. "Come in, Oliver, come in. Ah, you brought coffee. Excellent."

Oliver handed off the mug as he stepped over the threshold into the room, unable to resist sweeping his lamp around to get a better look, as it was currently only lit by a couple of candles.

Alexander's bedroom was furnished much like Oliver's, but larger, and far more cluttered. The window was covered with shutters, and a thick velvet curtain surrounded the enormous bed. The bookshelves were crammed full of books interspersed with rolled scrolls, stacks of papers, and seemingly random trinkets, a far cry from the orderly shelves in the library. The tables and nightstands were covered in stacks of books and hardened candle wax, and there was laundry strewn about the hardwood floor. The bed was unmade and the sheets and blankets were in a tangle, sliding off halfway, with a rubber water bottle lying nearby. The place smelled of bookbindings and floral soap and brine.

His master didn't seem remotely self-conscious about this state of affairs, taking the coffee, picking his way deftly through the mess, and sitting on the side of his bed. "It looks as if the shirt and pants fit without much need for additional tailoring. That's good," he said, looking Oliver up and down through half-closed eyes. "I suppose I ought to get dressed myself, and then you can assist me."

"Yes, sir." He was about to ask what exactly he would be assisting with, but as Alexander shed his robe and reached for his shirt, Oliver's attention was piqued by a strange symbol on his chest. A scar, but an oddly round one, with a faded symbol in the center.

"That doesn't concern you," said Alexander sharply, noticing Oliver's gaze. 

"Sorry, sir," said Oliver, making a point to look away as his master finished dressing.

He took another long look at Oliver as he buttoned all but the top button of his shirt. "...It's no matter. Come with me."

Oliver followed Alexander to a door in the back corner of the room, tripping over a pair of shoes obscured by an old coat on the way. The door opened to an absurdly spacious and opulent bathroom, featuring a marble floor, a porcelain bathtub large enough to fit half a baseball team, and expensive plush bath towels littering the floor in heaps. The smell of floral soap was even stronger here, and the remnants of steam clung to Oliver's glasses, the room oppressively warm.

Alexander sat down in front of a counter with a sink and a mirror, and Oliver's eyes went wide at the odd effect of his master having no reflection. He could see himself perfectly, as though Alexander wasn't even there.

"This is what I need your help with, Oliver. Making my hair look presentable, because I'm not able to do so myself."

That certainly explained why he was so disheveled normally -- although, given the state of his very visible room, it wasn't necessarily the full explanation. "What would you like me to do, sir?"

He gestured to a glass containing combs, long scissors, and a few other odd tools. "Whatever you think is fit. It's not as though I'm going to be able to see it to criticize. I only wish to look neat and presentable."

Oliver had really never paid too much attention to his own appearance, but he had always tried to look neat for customers, so he hoped he would be able to do the job. "Very well, sir," he said, apprehensively picking up a comb and running it through his master's hair.

His hair was soft, surprisingly so, and the scent of floral soap grew even stronger, with undertones of woodsmoke and bookbinding glue and something unidentifiable, a scent which he was quickly learning to associate with his master. Alexander closed his eyes, a faint smile on his face, seemingly enjoying the treatment. 

He must be so lonely. Oliver felt it so keenly the prior night when his master had cornered him in the kitchen and drank deep of his blood. As his master's thoughts pooled into his own, he was overwhelmed with loneliness, solitude, the desire for a warm and caring touch. Oliver couldn't help but work his hands into his master's hair on the pretense of styling it, enjoying the small, contented noise that escaped from his lips.

His master was handsome, wasn't he? Was there any harm in acknowledging that? It wasn't as if he had feelings for the vampire who had purchased him. He was simply accepting a truth, one that he had known even when Alexander was simply a prized customer.

"What is this ballet about, sir?" said Oliver, mostly to distract himself from this train of thought.

"It's an avant garde ballet, very controversial. It was actually choreographed and costumed by a famous Russian vampire who has worked in theater from well before I was born. This production has been mounted by a human company, though. It's a dance I'd been wishing to see for some time." Alexander's gaze traveled to Oliver's reflection in the mirror. "I have you to thank for encouraging me to leave the house more often, otherwise I might have missed this opportunity, instead electing to spend the evening wallowing in the manor's dust."

Oliver's breath hitched at his master's subtle smile. "I'm glad of it, sir."

----

Even though his tuxedo fit perfectly -- thanks to the detailed measurements Miss Florence had taken at the auction house -- Oliver still felt uncomfortable among the crowd dressed to the nines at the theater. He was dazzled by the gilded carvings on the walls, leading to a ceiling decorated with an elaborate fresco, and nearly crashed into a woman in a ball gown as he took in the sights.

His master, on the other hand, glided through the crowd effortlessly, paying them no mind. As Oliver followed, he could feel a sense of flowing waves, Alexander's vampiric aura pushing away everyone but Oliver, who felt compelled to follow his footsteps. It was just as well that his master was guiding him, lest he find himself lost.

Soon enough, they had both settled in a luxurious balcony box for two, and Oliver was shocked to see an actual look of excitement on Alexander's sleepy face.

"I simply can't wait to see the costumes -- I've heard they're magnificent. And of course, Yelena Pavlova is said to be a master of the dance. They say her striking and dramatic movements place her a cut above the prima ballerinas who only know how to flit prettily about," said Alexander, with enthusiasm. "I do hope you enjoy it."

"I think I will, sir," said Oliver. At the very least, he was sure he could enjoy it vicariously through his master.

The lights dimmed, the dance began, and Oliver soon found his attention riveted to the stage. It truly was an avant-garde sort of ballet, and the costumes were mind-bending. There were dancers wearing disturbingly realistic animal heads, costumes adorned with colored glass that glittered like jewels, massive peacock feather headdresses, ropes of pearls entangling their bodies, and a few in iron chains and shackles. The intricate pattern of their dance was ritualistic, as though Oliver were watching something forbidden that he couldn't take his eyes from.

Among them all, the prima ballerina Alexander had mentioned performed a stunning routine, clad in an outfit that seemed mostly comprised of ribbons in every color of the rainbow. She was striking pose after pose, being lifted and passed among the dancers, twirling faster than Oliver knew was possible. She was endlessly fascinating to watch.

The dance was so fascinating, in fact, that Oliver had forgotten all about his master's reactions. He glanced over, expecting that Alexander was enjoying himself as much as he was, and was shocked to see a look of stress on his master's face.

"Master, what's wrong?" he whispered.

"Nothing. Just watch the dance," he said, in a voice almost too low to hear, and his eyes flicked across the balcony to a different box.

Oliver couldn't help but look, to see what had his master so concerned. The box across the way had only one occupant, an older gentleman in an impeccably styled black suit. His full focus was on the ballet, his gaze holding a kind of judgmental intensity that made Oliver think he must be a professional critic.

Was this man troubling Alexander? It didn't seem like it could be. Perhaps he was worried about something else, and this man just happened to be in his line of sight as he glanced about nervously.

Could he be...?

Oliver tried to put it out of his head, but now he couldn't help but notice every time Alexander's gaze wandered from the stage. The moment intermission was announced, his master turned to him.

"Do you need to stretch your legs? Use the restroom?" his master asked. Before Oliver could even answer, he continued, "Very well, let's leave the box for a moment." He grasped Oliver's arm and practically dragged him from the box. Oliver found himself gently shoved into a secluded nook, away from the other patrons milling about the theater.

"Oliver, listen very carefully," said Alexander, his voice soft but deathly serious. "My sire is attending this performance."

Even though Oliver had been suspecting this the moment he'd seen the strange man, he still felt a spike of panic stab his heart at the confirmation. "Your sire is here?"

"I should have known he'd have interest in this ballet. But he's been so reclusive lately..." Alexander sighed. "But listen. You must follow my instructions exactly. If you do, it's unlikely you'll be harmed."

"I... I understand, master." Oliver's mouth felt dry.

"You must be quiet and obedient. Follow my lead, do not speak unless spoken to, and then, speak with the utmost respect. But you must be honest, even if you think the truth is dangerous. Never lie. He will know. And finally..."

"Finally what, sir?"

"If he takes control of your body, do not resist it."

"Takes control of my body, sir?" Just as Katherine had warned him.

"Do not resist it even slightly. If he seizes control, relax your body and mind and do not fight it. Believe me -- any struggle will only make your lot worse."

He blinked back frightened tears. "I can try, master."

"Good." Alexander put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "While I don't pretend to understand my sire's mind, I do believe no harm will come to you tonight."

"I hope not, master."

"Would you allow me to put your mind at ease so you can enjoy the rest of the performance?"

Oliver couldn't agree fast enough. "Yes, please, sir."

His master leaned over and hummed in his ear, and Oliver could feel his nerves calming, his fears growing foggy and distant.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Next week, Oliver finally gets to meet his master's sire.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin @whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist @xx-adam-xx @ivycloak @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10 @pokemaniacgemini @sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @shinyotachi @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl @steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada @typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia @a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi @enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot @cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme @strawbearydreams

[vertigoed]

tinder 3.0 || fuckboy!satoru gojo

synopsis : in which you match with satoru gojo, tokyos most seeked after bachelor

summary: fem!reader, toxic!satoru

Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

it is mandatory to imagine this version of gojo when reading this part :) thank u hehe

you wake up to an empty bed, feeling hungover as your groggy eyes try to adjust to the bright sunlight shining through the french windows. you look around at your surroundings as you feel the soft silk sheets underneath you. the room was opulent with plush carpeting and decorated with expensive looking artwork, some of which you recognised as takashi murakami's.

you wondered where satoru was as you check your phone to see the time- it was almost mid day. "fuck," you groaned, not realising you slept in so much.

you swing your legs over to the side of the bed and tread your way to the ensuite. you couldn't help but gasp at the extravagance of the space. the bathroom was adorned with gold fixtures, marbled floors and sparkling chandelier hanging over the huge sunken bathtub in the middle.

"he must have rich fucking parents," you muttered.

once you've freshened up, you make your way downstairs in search of your clothes from last night. you had the fright of your life when you walked into a small framed suited man sitting in the lounge room, reading a newspaper.

he looked equally as shocked and hastily stood up from his seat, giving you a bow.

"nice to meet you y/n, i'm kiyotaka ichiji. gojo asked me to drop you off home."

"oh!" you said awkwardly, "are you his chauffeur?"

the man chuckled flatly at your question and shook his head, "i'm his co-worker but i can see why you may get that impression. are you ready to leave?"

you look down at satoru's shirt and pants you were wearing, shifting your weight from one foot to another. "i'm definitely missing clothes but i don't want to waste your time any further so yeah i'm ready to go!"

as much as you could appreciate satoru's gesture of arranging a ride, you wished he would've given you a heads up that a stranger will be waiting for you in his apartment.

after a painfully long car ride, you thank ichiji and sprint out, taking the stairs instead of the elevator as you didn't want to risk running into any of your neighbours.

once you get into the comfort of your four walls, you throw yourself onto your bed and let out a sigh, feeling like you can finally breathe.

the past 24 hours felt like a crazy whirlwind of experiences and you felt like you came back from another universe. you take a look around at your humble abode and couldn't help but compare the contrast of your lifestyle to his.

you knew you were helplessly falling for someone who was on a whole different class from you and you drift off to sleep with pessimistic thoughts and a fatigued body.

you wake up 15 hours later with a headache, feeling like absolute shit from sleeping half the day. you don't check your phone until you've showered and scoffed down a hot meal. you then open up satoru's tinder messages.

gojo: i can't stop thinking about last night

gojo: give me your number

you notice he sent this at 2pm and you look at the current time which was 2am. you quickly text him back your digits, tightly clutching your glass of water as you watch the bubbles pop up showing that he was typing.

gojo: u take a whole day to reply to me

gojo: what could u possibly be doing that made u too busy for me 🤣

you narrow your eyes and take a sip, he was acting uncalled for. the toxic part of you wanted to play games with him. he didn't have to know you were actually passed out from being fucked out too hard by him.

you: i dont have my tinder notifications on

satoru didn't reply to that and this time round, you don't hear back from him for a very long time.

three months later

you feel your phone ring and pull it out to see who was calling you during class. you frown at the unknown number and press the decline button, thinking it was a scam call.

once your lecture has finished, nobara dragged you off to a mixer, ignoring your protests as per usual.

"i told you to dress nice today," she tuts at your outfit as you made your way to the bar.

"i hate going to mixers and you know that," you rolled your eyes, looking down at your sweater and pants.

you enter the bar and nobara waves at the two college guys that were arranged for the mixer. only one of them had an enthusiastic smile on their faces.

"i dibs the pink hair guy," nobara whispered to you.

"hey guys!" the pink haired boy beams at both of you as you sit yourself across from the dark haired one, "i'm yuji and this is megumi."

the megumi guy gives a curt nod, barely smiling. he didn't seem too interested in this gathering as well.

"i'm nobara and this is y/n," your friend greets him back and you give a small smile.

nobara and yuji instantly hit it off, passionately raving to each other about some show they both watch. you sigh in boredom, watching the bubbles in your beer pop as you tune in and out of their conversation.

megumi was dead silent, his position mirroring yours with his arms tightly crossed against his chest and his eyes staring into blank space.

"what's up with you guys?"

your head shoots to yuji who was gesturing at you and megumi.

"what do you mean?" you straighten your back.

"you guys look dead," nobara chimed in, taking a sip of her drink, she clicks her fingers at you "come on, i want to see some talking."

you and megumi meet eyes for a brief second before he looks away. you turn back to the other two with a forced smile, but your eyes were begging them to stop.

"we're comfortable with the silence," you shrugged, "you can't force a conversation between us, what if we just don't feel like chatting?"

"don't you want to get to know megumi?" yuji sounded almost hurt.

"she's hooked on this old rich dude who ghosted her two months ago," nobara speaks up. you noticed megumi raise his brows, causing you to kick her under the table and she hastily added, "i mean, not like super old, just older. besides the point, that's why i dragged her along to this mixer, hoping we can find a replacement for her."

"i see," yuji nodded and suddenly perked up, "well i like your honesty nobara!"

thankfully the food came to the rescue, saving you from this uncomfortable conversation. you busy yourself by stuffing your mouth with the karage and takoyaki, washing down every bite with beer and lemon sours.

eventually, you're on your third pint of beer and nobara and yuji were both passed out in their seats, refusing to wake up, leaving poor megumi to put up with your drunken rants.

"honestly," you drawl, slamming your fist onto the table and leaning into megumi, who looked bored out of his mind, "i really do hate him megumi, i do. i just wish he'd fuck off and i wish i never met him."

"he did fuck off," he stated. his cheeks were flushed pink from alcohol but he was the most sober one out of everyone.

"that's true," you nodded, resting your head against your palms, feeling pathetic for sulking over a one night stand. your head was aching from it constantly pounding.

"how are we going to take care of these two?" megumi changed the subject, gesturing at the bodies.

"well, i definitely can't carry any of them."

"i should've just stayed home," he closed his eyes while tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling.

you miserably nodded in agreement. you reach for your phone in your pocket and your heart drops when you find it to be empty.

"fuck! where's my phone?"

"when did you last have it?" megumi rolled his eyes, clearly not caring about your newfound dilemma.

you think back and realise you must have left it in the lecture room. you bury your head in the table, feeling even worse and begin slamming your forehead.

"i'm so fucking stupid," you said in between hits.

"okay, you're way too drunk right now, relax, just get it tomorrow," megumi placed his hand in between your head and the table.

you raise your head and his gaze softens at the sight of your tears. he tosses some tissues at you, his voice noticeably lighter, "come outside for a smoke, fresh air will sober you up a bit."

you follow him out, wiping away at your eyes. megumi offered you a cigarette which you accepted. you let him light the end for you.

you don't notice his dark eyes staring into you as he leaned up against the wall, his cigarette mingling in the warm summer breeze.

"you smoke often?" he asked.

"only when drunk, but-"

"gojo sensei?"

you tense at the name and slowly turned to where megumi was looking at. your breath hitches when you see the white haired man you were moping over standing right before your eyes.

his hair was shorter and messier with a new undercut. he looked like he had been working out with his tight-fitting shirt accentuating his bulging biceps and broad shoulders even further.

your eyes trail over to the beautiful, dark haired girl hanging onto his arms. you quickly looked away from the pair when the girl caught you staring.

"megumi!" satoru smiled, taking his hand away from the woman to give him a wave, his eyes flickered to your cigarette in your hand before he flashed a smile at you, "and y/n! what are you two doing here?"

"wait, how do you know gojo?" megumi turned to you with a bewildered expression.

your mouth opened and closed and you look over at satoru, hoping he'd say something, but of course, he enjoyed watching you squirm under pressure.

"we don't really know each other, i think we met once at a family event," you lied, glaring at the man who was trying to stifle his laugh.

megumi blinked at you with a blank face but didn't say anything. fuck does he know i'm lying? you think to yourself.

the girl was eyeing you up and down with her lips tightly pursed, suspecting something was off from the way satoru kept shamelessly focusing checking you out.

she nudges satoru to introduce her. he quickly clears his throat with a smile and said, "excuse my manners guy, i forgot to introduce my date, this is julia-"

"julie."

"that's what i said," satoru continued and wrapped his hand around the girl's hip in the exact same way he held onto you and her scowl instantly softened into a smile.

you and julie were no different from each other.

"anyway, catch me up with what's going on with you two. how on earth do you guys know each other?"

you sighed under your breath realising the juxtaposition and take a long draw from your cigarette. your night couldn't get any worse than this.

"yuji dragged me to a mixer and i met her there," megumi replied with a shrug, glancing at you, "okay, well, have fun on your date."

"i'm just going to go back in as well," you announced and turn to walk in.

"okay-"

"i'm calling a taxi for julie now, any of you guys need a ride home?" satoru cuts megumi off. his blue eyes looking straight at you.

"i'm going to taxi with nobara," you answered, avoiding satoru's burning gaze.

you glance over at satoru's date who looked appalled at the current situation and felt a pang of guilt.

"i got my car," megumi replied dryly, "we're going back in, see you around sensei."

you don't look back at the couple and quickly follow megumi back into the bar. your blood was pumping at this point. it was infuriating that satoru was offering you a ride home when he was on another date as if he had no respect for either of you or julie.

does he really think you're that low?

you knew you had to down another pint of beer to wash away the frustration burning inside of you. megumi watched you throw back the drink in one chug, letting out a burp. he grimaced in disgust at your lack of manners.

"so what's the relationship between you two? you guys seem pretty close," you asked, wiping your mouth.

"he was my high school teacher but he looked after me when i was a kid," megumi answered, "are you into him?"

"no," you lied with a scoff but you knew your cheeks were flushed from that question.

"well you should probably drop all interest now. during the 12 years i've known him, he's never been tied down," said megumi before adding, "unless you're into the one night stands and being treated with no respect."

his words felt like a blade digging into your heart, bruising your ego and shattering the little hope you had. you don't answer for a bit and play with the hair tie around your wrist.

"well, good thing i'm not interested in your teacher."

"you are a terrible liar," megumi gives a small smirk, "let me guess, gojo is the guy you've been crying over. he fucked you and now you can't get over him?"

your jaw dropped, shocked that megumi could be so blunt when he seemed like such a reserved guy. your shoulders fall and you let out a dramatic sigh. you knew there was no point in denying the truth.

so you reveal everything to the guy who was raised by satoru gojo. one of those drunken moments that your sober self will soon enough come to regret.

----------

you check the missed calls and messages when you find your phone the next morning. your eyes widen at the string of messages from the same unknown number that was calling you.

2:09PM it's me satoru pick up my call, im free tonight wanna hang?

11:00PM u like fucking little boys like megumi?

1:00am: he cant fuck u like i do

you scoffed at the nerve of this man to be acting jealous when he was the one who ghosted you for three months.

9:00am: don't worry he wasn't little

you sent the message without thinking, then instantly regret it as soon as it delivered. you pray satoru doesn't bring you up to megumi, otherwise you would have some very awkward explaining to do.

you brush off the jittery feeling and bite back a grin, placing your screen down so you can focus on your studying. couple of minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

9:10am: are you angry at me love?

9:11am: if it makes u feel better ur mouth and pussy feels better than hers . its unfair how good u feel .

9:12am: i know you've been thinking about me too

you bite the inside of your cheek until you taste metal and you hastily put your phone on do not disturb, ignoring the warm fuzziness building up inside you. you squeeze your thighs to relieve some tension and strain your eyes onto the words but your brain was processing no information.

you had your mid term exams coming up and you had no time to be playing into his games but, your mind kept on drifting onto that particular night and like an annoying itch, you were desperate to scratch it for some relief.

as if your body had its mind of its own, your fingers begin to type out a message despite nobara's voice ringing in your head.

"ugh, he hasn't been texting you because he's busy fucking his other matches, get over it."

"you fucked him once. it was a one night stand. have some self respect and get yourself a boy our age, you're better than this!"

but nobara was wrong, you weren't better than this.

in fact, you don't think you've even been this low in your life before.

11am: ur right, i've been thinking about you

-

ok so nobara isnt a sorcerer in this but megumi and yuji are . this is set after the culling games and lets just be delusional and pretend nobody died, gojo won and its all sunshine and rainbows

TAGLIST: @mc-reborn @cherrymoon4 @creolequeen11210

lmk if you'd to be added to the taglist!!!! ❤️

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter IX

Chapter 9

Wordcount 3,4k

Title Misguided Behavior

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5 . 6 . 7 . 8

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: Poseidon is his own warning; non explicit sex; mentions of deep waters and fear of drowning

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A. Finally I'm getting the feeling that the story is moving forward! Yay! Here we have a small, yet important revelation about reader's past, and a peculiar confession from Poseidon, to say the least 😅 Then, a place I've waited so long to introduce to you: the Sea Library, which I'm sure would make the Beauty and the Beast's one seem modest in comparison haha And, finally, the appearance of a new, essential part of this drama as our reader tries to prepare herself for war...

Hope you enjoy this one, and sorry for making wait ^^

It was like laying on the beach, at the very point where the sand meets the sea, but having a block of marble to support your back instead.

That didn’t mean there was no comfort around you: the water was warm, and its warmth extended to the floor where you were; however, the heat that came from Poseidon’s body felt deeper. And this sensation only increased when you realized that this time things wouldn’t be like the wedding night: now, his mercy has reached its limit and no freedom to move or to breathe would be conceded to you so soon, for his arms squeezed you and his legs kept yours in place, his mouth over yours, making you unable to speak.

Knowing your own limitations, you didn’t even try.

This must be my punishment for the slap.

You closed your eyes, sensing your sight getting dark as a strange noise filled your ears. You never knew if your husband noticed this but, following what he said about keeping what belonged to him intact, he moved away from you, allowing you to fill your lungs with the hot air of the room right before you passed out.

But that was just the beginning.

Getting off you, he sent all the water back to the bathtub with a movement of his hand. You looked around and noticed that the spots touched by the water didn’t remain wet when the waves ceased and returned to the tank, which included your dress, tossed aside by him; you shouldn’t be surprised for witnessing the absolute control that the Lord of the Seas showed over such a small portion of water, but here you were, with your eyes wide open and a ridiculous gaping mouth.

And, of course, that didn’t go unnoticed by him, who chuckled as he took you in his arms and led you to the tub’s interior.

As he walked to the opposite side of the tub, you sensed his feet walking down the stairs on its bottom, and each stair that they touched, the water raised an inch and your heart skipped a beat. In an unconscious move, your body curled over itself on his lap.

Heavens, what he’s planning to do? Is he going to…

Your discomfort wasn’t enough for Poseidon to stop: when he reached the last stair and entered the deepest parts of the tub, he just kept walking inside the water with the same naturalness one would walk on the land, holding you bridal style.

At the point where the water covered his waist and your legs and back, he stopped and made a sudden move to release you into the water.

Something – perhaps the thing that some called the primitive, survival instinct – screamed inside you and forced a physical reaction: you wrapped your arms around Poseidon’s neck, looking away from the water, staring at the bathing area’s entry over his shoulder. Only when the rational side of your mind took over again you realized the shameful position you were put in: with your legs surrounding his waist, the soaked fabric of your underwear clinging to your skin – soaked with only water, you hoped – you were holding on to your husband so tight that you were sure you would’ve suffocated him if he was a human. In other occasions, you would’ve moved away from him immediately, but that time it would mean your death, so you ignored your hurt pride and stood there, trembling.

And the god’s mockery was the price you paid for your safeness.

– So... you cannot swim, dragonet? – he whispered in your ear, each word vibrating with the idea of the frail, rebel human finally bent down, depending on him; and, with all possible disdain, – Pathetic.

You were fighting to control your breath, your shivers and your voice all at once, trying not to reinforce the ridiculous depiction that was just imputed to you, but that was too much.

– Poseidon-sama… – you heard yourself whisper; however, you bit your tongue one second before it started begging him to not release you.

You felt his right arm tightening around your waist, as his left hand caressed the back of your head.

– Hm, what is it? Do you already regret challenging me in my own domain? Are you ready to retract yourself? – his lips left a brief kiss on your lobe – I am eager to find out how your voice sounds when you apologize...

In face of that provocation, what was left of your anger was shaken inside you, so you made no attempts to hold back your words.

– No… – your nails dug in the skin of his shoulders – You will drown me here before you hear me apologize, my Lord!

He laughed.

– Good to see you still have some fight in you, but are you sure about this? – his lips brushed your ear as he spoke – Even with the choppy, deep waters under you?

You sensed a strange movement in the water and gasped.

– You are a though one, more than I gave you credit for – Poseidon continued with his teasing, not hiding his diversion, until a slight change in his tone was sensed, for something awakened his curiosity – Still, it intrigues me: how can you not be able to swim? You were raised in a land where there is access to the sea. Have you never touched its waters?

Given that things have come to this point, it was useless to try and hide this from him now. You let out a sigh and confessed something that has been just a trivial fact about yourself until the moment you were taken to live in that underwater kingdom, when it became as embarrassing as a sin.

– I was raised away from the beach – you explained – My mother never loved the sea, so she would never allow me to come near it. Only after she passed away, I was able to go to the coast, but I always stood close to the sand. And, every time I’ve traveled with my father, we would always go through the land. Because he followed the instructions of my mother, my feet never touched the floor of a ship.

Somehow, speaking about this took off a weight from your shoulders and prepared you for whatever reaction your husband could have. When his verbal response came at last, it sounded more serious than you expected.

– This is the most personal thing you have ever told me about yourself, little dragonet. However, I cannot accept the idea that you never found your mother’s attitude strange, to say the least. How can it be that you have never questioned her? You, who did not think twice before defying me?

You swallowed. He was right, and you knew it – how could you never think of asking your mother about her reasons to stay away from the ocean? Was it a childhood trauma? A nightmare, a prophecy or something more mundane, like a distaste for the sea breeze? Or maybe you’ve tried to question her once or twice, but she simply avoided the theme and you forgot about it?

It is really strange now that I think about it. It’s like, before I was taken to his domains, the sea didn’t matter to me. There were days when I even forgot it exists.

Your silence before those questions was taken as a confirmation that none of this sat right to you, so he just continued to talk, more to himself than to you.

– Besides, I am not satisfied with the fact that you just told me these things in face of death – he held you tighter against himself – You are already mine, you understand? It is not fair that I must appeal to such ways every time I need an answer from you.

When your eyes started to burn, you shut them tight to avoid the tears... all in vain.

Then just don’t ask anything more from me.

– Fair? But how could there be any justice in this? – you started with a mumble, but your tone raised as your words came out – I was chosen to live here, but the choice was not mine! I never wanted to come to your domains! I never wanted to become yours! I never wanted to have this conversation! I never wanted any of this to happen...

A lump appeared in your throat, and you were unable to keep speaking. Suddenly, you felt tired, and your head just fell forward, leaning on your husband’s shoulder. His only response to that – not that you expected anything different – was silence.

It's like someone who watches a child throwing a tantrum. My anger and any of my other feelings mean nothing to him. Is this how a god should behave with us?

When you spoke again, your voice was an exhausted whisper.

– It is important for me to know… My entire reason to exist... it changed when you intervened in my fate, my Lord... I need to know why…

That time, you had a verbal answer from him. A clear, simple answer, but enough to make you gasp in incredulity.

– You still ask me why, my dragonet? The reason is obvious – Poseidon gave you a soft, long kiss on your hair – I love you.

Now, you couldn’t help but obey the impulse of moving away from him, frowning as you stared into his eyes, trying to find the slightest signs of mockery or insanity – and the scariest part of this is that you found none.

That’s not possible! He can’t be serious!

– I don’t believe you… – you mumbled, the sight of his traits blurry by your tears.

However, the god was impassible, as if convincing you of his honesty wasn’t a priority… and, indeed, it wasn’t.

– It does not matter if you believe it or not. It is true – he promptly replied – I love all the women I have taken as my wives, and you are not an exception. I do not touch people for whom I hold no love. But you… – you felt his hand caressing your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears from your face – Despite the instabilities of your human heart, which often led you to a misguided behavior, I can not help but feel love for you.

You remembered Suriah’s words about his love for the women he brought to his house, as well as his dislike for rebel ones, and the possibility of this being true got you scared: following her logic, Poseidon’s love for you must have grown deep in an impossibly short amount of time.

But, well, even though you asked him to kill you, asked not to be impregnated, suggested that he treated his women with injustice and, finally, physically attacked him, he kept assuring you about his feelings, stating that it didn’t matter if you thought he was lying; besides, he has treated with you mercy in some sense: he agreed with your request and didn’t make you carry a child right in your first time with him; he treated you with gentleness after that; heavens, he even killed a man to protect your integrity.

It just didn’t make sense.

And how arrogant of him to dismiss my feelings as “misguided behavior”. Is this how he expects to win my affection?

– Like I said, I don’t believe you, Poseidon-sama – you slowly turned your face away from him, trying to stay out of his hand’s reach – You only feel desire for me, if most. It is not the same thing as love.

Despite your attempt to avoid it, his hand reached your face again, this time holding your chin and making you look into his eyes.

– To me, one does not exist without the other – was his reply – You may understand this in any way you want, but it does not erase the truth of my words…

That moment, you sensed a slow, uneasiness in the water around you. At the same time, your husband approached his mouth from yours, drowning you in a kiss before you had a chance to react.

And then, he moved away just enough to finish his sentence:

– …Neither the truth of my actions.

The agitation you noticed on the water went from subtle to clear, and as it raised until it covered your legs, still wrapped on his waist, you sensed it becoming warmer, as to follow the stream of emotions of its master: in each movement, each wave that touched your skin were the confirmation of his words and the extension of his feelings and thoughts, reaching for you with the same persistence as his mouth on your lips, your neck and your collar, and as his hands going through your body, freeing you from your underwear, making you ready for him.

And you just let him.

I was so willing to drown myself here and escape from him… what happened, then? If I don’t believe in his love, what am I doing here?

As if guessing your thoughts, his voice was heard again, bringing out those very questions.

– Where has your determination gone, dragonet? – he held your jawline, his lips brushing over yours – Have you finally seen the truth, or are you just tired?

Your face burned with that, but you didn’t deny him an answer.

It’s simple.

– No, my Lord…

I don’t believe in your love, but I do believe in your desire. And, because of this...

– It’s too late for me.

***

You were waking in silence through parts of the castle that looked familiar, both in an architectural and energetic sense, having a servant to accompany you.

Though they only happened one or two hours ago, the events of that morning seemed as distant as if they belonged to a remote past now, as much as that empty, long corridor where everything started seemed to be in another building on the other side of the kingdom – and you only hoped that you’d never find yourself anywhere near it again.

Moments after touching you in the bathtub, Poseidon took you out of the water and carried you to bed, leaving you there to rest, all by yourself, as he went to a small office he maintained inside those chambers without giving any explanations about what he intended to do or when he would return, and you, who just wanted to reach the castle’s Library before that day ended, were forced to wait until your husband decided to come back to the bed area and finally give you permission to leave the room, which didn’t happen until a long time.

While you waited, hidden inside the sheets, in the middle of that enormous bed, you recalled the things that happened between you since your arrival.

How could he be so sure that his actions were guided by love when all of them showed no regard for your individuality, your nature and your choices, that is, the least expected from a respectful, reasonable love? Heavens, you were taken away from your home, your family and the life you knew to be confined in the depths of the sea, among dozens of other women who were there only to serve one individual, a man who you’ve never met before and who expected compliance and docility from you above all things! What kind of love was that? Were all the other gods just like this?

Maybe the selkie, Melian, was right. This isn’t an appropriate place for humans to live. We’ve been distant from the gods for so long that it’s impossible to live in peace with them now. We don’t even share similar views on love.

Still... you couldn’t continued to say no to him.

At some point, you just let him hold, touch, take you, reaffirming those twisted feelings towards you which he called love, and even started to enjoy it, lured by the fantasy that they were, in fact, the feelings of a loving husband, and now this attitude had your senses and your judgment contaminated, and you saw yourself unable to wash him away; you kept revisiting the events of earlier, the attentions he gave you, his teasing, his caresses, his seductive whispers, and understood that you might have started developing a sort of addiction, so much that, when the next encounter with him happened – because it would happen – you would no longer be able to put up a fight, not even as a formality.

And the scariest part of this is that I’m already missing him. At least my body is. If only he was normal man… I could even say I’m falling in love.

As you walked, you crossed your arms upon your chest, adjusting the shawl as if you were feeling cold.

The servant glanced at you with a worried expression.

– Is everything alright, y/n-san?

You forced a smile on your face.

– Yes. Thank you.

You weren’t sure you convinced the servant of your well being, but were grateful for her to not insist on that conversation: suddenly changing the subject, she indicated a new direction in your path, stating that the Library wasn’t too far now.

– We just have to go to the end of this corridor and walk down a few stairs – she was saying – The Library’s doors are just ahead.

That information revived your moods, and in a minute or two you were standing before the wide, golden doors of the Sea Library. The servant pushed them by the knobs, two spheres with delicate figures of fishes surrounding them that moved like they were swimming in water as a response to the push, and the doors were opened at last.

You were marveled.

On the large hall of white marble that extended before you, imposing shelves of noble wood, with books of all colors and sizes that filled them up to down, occupied the majority of the space, creating hundreds of corridors through which you knew you could get lost if you just walked into them without trying and memorizing the way. The place, you noticed, was formed by at least three floors, connected between themselves by stairs of the same marble of the hall, leading to shelves even larger than those ones near you.

I could spend my entire life here, and there would be still books to read.

The servant’s voice at your right brought you back to reality.

– Do you need me to wait for you here, y/n-san?

You blinked twice. When you turned to the girl, you saw a clever smile on her lips.

– It’s impressive, isn’t it? – she whispered; and, glancing at the shelves, – You don’t know how privileged you are for being allowed to stay here.

Your throat tightened at those words, but you didn’t want to discuss this with her. You had a work to do. Answering her question, you told her that she could go without you, because you intended to stay there for a long time, and she left you right after, wishing you luck in whatever research you were going to start.

Once the doors were closed again and you found yourself alone with the books, you took your first step toward them… and realized you had no idea where to begin.

Stopped before the first shelf and stared at it with something close to fear. You tried to read the titles that were at your eyes’ height, but they were all written in languages you’ve never seen before, some of them seeming impossible to be adopted by a human group; you raised your hand to touch their spines, but stopped before your fingers touched them.

It was when the weight of your mission finally reached you.

Look at the size of this place… Only one year to work on my task would never be enough...

You looked around and, despite sensing your hopes fading, you started to walk through the shelves – and, apparently, this had a soothing effect in your heart, for in a few minutes you found yourself more comfortable than intimidated by those structures.

It’s like traveling through a big city. Scary and fun at the same time.

As well said by the servant, that was an impressive collection, and you wondered how long your husband has taken to gather all of them, if he remembered the first ones or if he has found some of them personally or delegated this task to his servants. You stopped in front of a shelf and sighed: you knew so little about him that all the inner debates you had while coming to the Library were nothing but pathetic.

I’ve been feeling so much for a stranger.

Your mind was making so much noise for nothing. You chuckled and turned away from those books, decided to explore the next shelf…

– A human being using the Tyrant’s Library to gather weapons? Finally, some diversion coming our way.

Chapter 10

[honeybadgerwritings]

Megggg you wanna know something that’s been on my mind? Aftercare with Steddie. I just know they’d take such good care of reader after multiple rounds….

You must have a lot of faith in the reader to last multiple rounds with both Steve AND Eddie?

Holy shit, they’d better give amazing aftercare <3

This includes afab!Reader & Fem!Reader

⚠️ 18+ Content Ahead — Minors DNI ⚠️

The coil in you snaps, back arching as you cum for the fifth and final time of the night. Pathetic cries and whimpers leave your lips, tears streaming down your face as pleasure rolls through your body.

“There we go, good fucking girl.” Steve cradles you in his arms, holding you through the aftershocks as he watches Eddie pull out, who’s currently mesmerized by the way both his and Steve’s cum leaks from your ruined cunt. Your entire body trembles in his arms, and your legs shake as Eddie lowers them from his shoulders.

“Thaaat’s it sweetheart,” The metalhead murmurs, gently rubbing your calf to soothe you, “Ride it out for us.”

You’re on cloud nine, thoughts jumbled and hardly noticing how they maneuver your body while you lay there limp. Everything around you feels soft, the covers beneath you, Steve’s arms around you, Eddie’s hand on your leg. It’s all soft.

The two boys share a knowing look as you lay beneath them, completely blissed out.

“Such a pretty little thing isn’t she?” Eddie teases, and Steve hums in agreement, gently rubbing your hip.

“And soooo good for us,” The jock leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead, “Aren’t you baby?” You hum in response, hardly registering the words coming out of their mouths. You can’t help but whine when you hear them chuckle, wanting them closer to you, “Eds…Stevie…”

“Shhh pretty girl, we gotcha…” Steve murmurs, maneuvering himself to completely lie down with you, still cradling you in his arms.

“We’re right here sweets.” Eddie adds, leaning down to place a kiss to your lower tummy before getting up off the bed. He looks over to Steve, “You got her?” Steve nods, opening his mouth to respond, but he’s cut off by you.

“No Eddie…” you whimper, “don’t leave.”

A deep chuckle rises from his chest, and he bends down to cradle your face in his hands, thumbs gently wiping a mix of sweat and tears from your puffy cheeks, “Silly thing, thinking I would ever leave you and Stevie,” He coos, looking down at you with nothing but love in his eyes, “M’ not going anywhere pretty baby. Just gonna run us all a bath okay?” You sniffle, nodding slowly as his words slowly register in your brain.

He gently tugs on your lower lip before standing back up, “Good girl.”

You and Steve lay there for a few minutes while he holds you and plays with your hair, and it’s not long before Eddie’s calling for the two of you. He picks you up in his arms and carries you towards the bathroom, cradling you against his chest, and you find your head buried in the junction where his neck and shoulder meet.

“Jesus Christ Stevie, I’ll never get over the size of this stupid bathtub.” Eddie grumbles, and you can feel Steve’s chest shake as he chuckles.

“Yeah well you’re more than welcome to come over and use it anytime you’d like.” He winks at Eddie, (who blushes a bright red) and moves to gently set you down on the counter. You whine as the cold marble meets your bare skin, and you cling harder to Steve, not wanting him to let go of you, “No no no…”

“Okay, it’s okay I gotcha,” he tugs you back towards him quickly, “I gotcha pretty girl. Let’s get you in then hm?” You nod, and Steve steps over the wall of the tub, sinking both of you down into the warm water. It smells like lavender, and you look around at all the bubbles that surround you, giggling.

Eddie sinks down into the water behind you, sneakily reaching forward to grab you by the hips. Steve’s grip on you loosens when he sees what he’s about to do, and watches as Eddie quickly snatches you, pulling you into his own lap.

You squeal and wiggle in his grasp, giggling as he attacks your face and neck with kisses. The movement splashes some water over the side of the tub, but neither of the two men can bring themselves to care. Eddie finally gives you some reprieve, resting his chin on top of your head, and his arms around your waist.

You release a sigh, resting against him with your eyes closed for a few moments.

“Don’t fall asleep on us just yet sweetheart, gotta get you cleaned up first.” You feel Eddie’s chest rumble against your back as the words leave his lips, and you peel your eyes back open. Steve’s sitting closer to you than he was a moment ago, a bottle of his lilac scented shampoo in hand.

You can’t help but smile, remembering the first time you found out about all of his hair products. You’d teased him so relentlessly about how he had triple the amount of things that you did. The only way he could get you to stop was by pinning you to the bed and tickling you until you begged for forgiveness.

And even though you and Eddie still joke about it sometimes, neither of you can deny that Steve’s hair is the epitome of perfection.

You lean forward, allowing him to scrub the soap through your hair, his fingers gently massaging your scalp. At some point, your eyes fall shut at the feeling of Eddie running a loofah up and down your skin, and you relax, letting your boys take care of you.

It’s Eddie who lifts you out of the water fifteen minutes later, quickly wrapping a towel around you when your teeth chatter. He helps you dry off, changing you into one of his oversized band tees, and Steve’s athletic shorts. You sigh in content, feeling cozy in your boyfriend’s clothes, and breathing in their scents.

“Do you want me to carry you? Eddie asks you gently as you sit on the counter in front of him. You nod slowly, eyes feeling especially droopy, and he grins, hands reaching underneath your armpits, “C’mere trouble.”

You pout at him as he lifts you up, “M’ not trouble. You’re trouble.” He chuckles at you placing a kiss to your cheek, “I must be a bad influence on you then.”

You wrap your legs around him so you’re sitting comfortably on his hip, and he carries you back to bedroom. You spot Steve, who is just finishing up changing the sheets, and he smiles warmly at you.

You’re laid down in the center of the bed, and it’s not long before they both join you, Steve cradling your body from behind, while you bury your face in Eddie’s chest.

“M’ gonna be so sore tomorrow.” You murmur, verbalizing your first coherent sentence in the last hour. The two boys chuckle, gently stroking different parts of your body to soothe you.

“Good thing we’ll be here to take care of you then hm?” Steve hums into the skin of your back, leaving kisses up your spine, “Gonna be treated like straight up royalty honey…isn’t that right Ed’s?”

Eddie, whose gently playing with your damp hair, hums in agreement, “We gotcha sweetheart. We always gotcha.”