#I used to collect kink personals from the back of the Village Voice

[marilynthornhilllover]

Wanna get drunk & nasty? Pt2 pt1

G!P Brienne x fem! Princess Reader

Warning: smut, sleep sex ,fingering ( r receiving) , oral ( r receiving ), choking if you squint, daddy kink, praise kink, creampie kink, nipple sucking, hickeys, aftercare kinda, plot, getting caught.

I apologize for any spelling mistakes and any mistakes in general, I did not get the time to proof read. Hope you enjoy ;)

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You were peaceful sleeping in your enormous bedroom, your bed was just as big with lace curtains all around, mostly to protect you from mosquitoes.

You had a long day, you've been horse riding with your dad, women's day celebration with your mom around the village and other royal events. You were brutally exhausted.

During the day you caught a glimpse of brienne looking at you. She had this look of "need" and "desire" . You didn't know if your eyes deceived you but she looked like a kitten in heat.

After you came back from your long day you decided to take a nap, in just your lace baby pink underwear and a vest. You were in deep sleep, your mouth slightly open.

Brienne needed to talk to you about how she was feeling. She needed you.

She went up to your room and peeked through the door that was left slightly abashed. She saw you laying flat on your back with your legs slightly parted. To be honest it may have turned her on more.

She took off her armor and placed it aside, then she proceeded to take off her trousers and her armor vest that she wore underneath. She was then left in her underwear.

She crawled up onto the bed making sure not to wake you. She lifted your legs so that your knees were now bent. To this action only made you stirred in your sleep. You were truly in deep sleep.

Brienne lifted your hips and slowly pulled down your underwear, making sure to be gentle. After she threw it across the room. She laid down with her face in between your thighs and started leaving love bites all over.

You let out a soft whimper but you remained asleep. You started to get extremely wet and needy.....

Brienne slid her fingers down your slit to collect all your juices, she then placed her fingers into her mouth and almost moaned at your taste. You tasted better than anything she's ever eaten.

She then used two fingers to part your folds. to this you stirred again, letting out a breathy groan. You weren't aware of what was happening , to you this was just another sexy dream. But in reality it was another story.

Brienne started rubbing tight circles on your clit, the sensation made you jerk. This action caused you to be half awake now. Your eyes fluttered open but you immediately shut them back as ,you tried to reopen them so you can regain your vision.

You plopped yourself up onto your elbows and behold the person in between your thighs.

"Fuck brie, oh my god" you moaned as you felt your orgasm getting closer, you closed your eyes and laid back down. Brienne came up and kissed you. It was sloppy and intimate.

"What do you want baby, tell daddy what you want" she said pulling away leaving a trail of saliva behind.

"I need you please, need your fingers" you said bitting your lip. She smirk and began kissing your neck. Her teeth slightly grazed it making shivers run down your spine.

"Brie you can't leave hickeys, my parents will see" she stopped and looked at you smirking.

" then I'll have to find another way to own you" she whispered in a dominant tone of voice.

You crashed your lips onto her again this time deepening the kiss. Brienne took the chance to slip two fingers into you, it caught you off guard. You arched your back and moaned into her mouth. At this she chuckled.

She started to fuck you at a ruthless pace, making you squirm. You started to let out pornographic moans.

" as much as I'd like to hear you scream my name, you need to be quiet " she said kissing you. You let out all your moans into her mouth.

She knew you were close, the way you clenched around her digits made her smile. She curled her fingers and started going at a paste you didn't think was humanly possible.

She was making you feel so good but you wanted more. You needed more.

You started to grip onto the bed sheets for dear life. Never in your life has you felt so good. No even your own fingers made you feel so good.

You eyes started to roll to the back of your head as you felt a knot in your stomach.

" Oh fucckkk brie, yes fuck me like that, deeper deeper god please" you moaned out as you arched your back til it could practically snap in two.

"Does my dirty slut need to cum?" She asked you sucking your neck.

You nodded fast as your orgasm approached.

" cum for me little one" she whispered nibbling on your ear.

As soon as she said that sentence your orgasm came crashing down on you. You moaned in a silence scream, as your mouth fell open in an o shape.

Brienne kept fucking you through your orgasm and only pulled out when you were pushing her hand away because you were too sensitive.

You laid there, your chest falling up and down as you tried to steady your breathing.

You looked down to see brienne staring at you. You looked down to see the bulge she had. Your eyes immediately darted back up to her to see the look of desire on her face.

" are you gonna be a good girl and help out daddy babe?" She asked smirking.

You nodded your head and waited for her to undress. She slipped out of her underwear and her cock came springing out.

It was hard and thick it was huge to say the least with precum coming out of the tip.

She stroked it a few times and crawled onto the bed. You opened your legs as wide as you can so that she can get great access.

She saw the way you hesitated.

She used her her finger to rise your chin up for you to look at her.

" if you want me to stop ,my heir just say so ok" she said her tone filled with care and comfort. You nodded but when you realized she needed an answer you responded.

" Yes "

With that she began to slowly enter her dick inside of you. She was huge. You whined as she withdraw and tried again.

She was gonna be the death of you.

After her entire length was in you she waited a while so you can adjust. The way you were squeezing her was driving her insane.

She slowly started to move then after you were completely comfortable she found a breath taking rhythm.

She started fucking you deep and fast.

" Your taking daddy's cock so well baby girl, just like that for daddy" she spoke, choking on her words, you could tell she was close and so were you.

She started sucking harshly on your nipple, to muffle her moans. Honestly you found it quite hot.

Soon she pulled out and cumed on your cunt. You both started laughing. As much as you wanted her to cum in you ,you both know what happens if that happens.

You both laid there for a while and tried to steady your breathing.

After you were both ready to take on the world again you got up and showered together. You threw on your casual princess dress and brienne placed back her armor on.

" you wanna come watch me and your brother sword fight" she asked walking towards the door.

" sure" you responded as you finished spraying your perfume. Even after you showered the smell of sex still lingered on you.

As brienne opened the door she behold the sight infront of her.

Your mother was standing with a tray of food in her hand. She looked like she got hit with a bus.

" Your majesty" brienne said as she bowed and stood perfectly still. You were in the back standing with your mouth slightly open.

" Well y/n I see you can still walk perfectly fine after that um" she cleared her throat.

" round of passion" she said smirking.

" I'll leave you both now, do enjoy your sword fight with dinynear brienne" she said as she walked off.

Brienne turned to look at you and all you did was chuckle.

" Let your hair down, atleast she didn't react the way we thought she would" you said passing her to do down stairs.

" yeah but how long was she standing out there?!" She shouted running behind you.

You ignored her with a smirk on your face and went outside. In your mind all you were thinking about was when you would get the chance to do it again....

And since there were no consequences, you'll make sure she ruins you.....

#gwendoline christie #fypシ゚viral #fanfic #larissa weems x female reader #love #cute #wednesday #gwendolineuniverse #larissa weems #smut #brienne x reader #brienne of tarth #game of thrones #princess #Spotify

[bbyheedeungie]

Perv!Sunghoon because why not? Again, minors DNI. Contains sexual and mature themes including impregnation kink, masturbation, praise kink? panty-stealing, oral sex (male receiving) pls let me know if i missed anything

This is completely fictional and does not reflect ENHYPEN in anyway.

Okay now imagine Sunghoon as your local village boy. You know, rice fields and all or it could be a small little village by the seaside or whatever. He's very hardworking, does physical labor 24/7.

He's quite the man. Just ripe at his age, incredibly handsome and has that well-built body that has all the young ladies soiling their panties.

But Sunghoon doesn't pay them any mind. He simply doesn't care for their attention at all. And the girlies find him even hotter because of that, being an 'ice prince' and all.

But it's not like he doesn't want attention, it's just that he already has his eyes on a particular woman, named Y/N.

Ah, Y/N. Sunghoon's ultimate crush. You're older than him by years, and having been already married before he can even shoot his shot. Admittedly, he didn't stand a chance before. When you were still unmarried, he was but a lanky, squeaky-voiced little boy. A shy comparison to the man he is now.

For years, Sunghoon enjoyed looking at you from afar. Watching you do your usual house chores, your clothes all wet from sweat and laundry water as you hang clothes outside to dry. The thin fabric stuck close to your skin, making Sunghoon's mouth water at the sight. And once you've left, there he goes, sneaking up to your yard to steal your underwear.

You were the very first person Sunghoon had ever jerked off to. And up to this date, you still make up his wildest fantasies. Those pretty lips of yours that belongs around his cock, whimpering as you struggle taking him whole, bobbing your head up and down his length. You'd look at him through your eyelashes, sultry eyes glinting in pure seduction. He'd empty his load on your mouth, have you swallowing all of his remains. Sunghoon would shower you with his praises, about how good of a cumslut you are.

And then there's always those flowy dresses that you like to wear in which accentuated the exquisite curves that you hid underneath, Sunghoon always imagines how it would be like to just tear the fabric apart and ravish you like a wild beast. To have you writhing underneath him, screaming his name for all the townfolks to hear, begging him to never stop fucking you so good with his thick cock pushing you to your limits the way your husband never could.

Ah, your husband. The one who left you for some city whore. Sunghoon wanted to kill that man the moment he heard about the news. But at the same time he feels happy at the thought of you being single again. You're completely free now and your husband never gave you any children either. Nothing to hold Sunghoon back from claiming you now.

Sunghoon bets he can impregate you with just one try. He wants to fuck you so badly, have your little pussy dripping wet and fertile for him. To have you so full of him, eyes rolling back as he collects the cum that oozes from your slit using the tip of his cock and then pushing them back into your cunt, not wasting a single drop of his potent seed. He'll have you bearing his own child, tummy all round and full. The thought is just too much for Sunghoon as white threads of cum shots from his reddened cock and onto your underwear.

With shaky intakes of air, Sunghoon tried to catch his breath as he marvels at how intense his orgasm was. Without a single trace of regret, he hangs your cum-filled underwear back to where it was, whistling softly as he walks away to continue with his usual tasks.

#enhypen au #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #kpop imagines #enhypen smut #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen sunghoon smut

[donutloverxo]

Some help

Note - this is a sequel to first night but can be read as a stand alone as well. Sorry for the months of delay. These maybe my words but my dear friend lizzygal(on ao3) helped me a lot! Couldn't have done it without her.

Beautiful dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Steve recruits his brothers help in knocking you up.

Warnings - 18+ only please, dub con, so much smut, soft dark!Steve and Bucky, Bucky is Steve's half brother, mentions of period sex, mfm threesome, some analplay, breeding kink, homophobia/sexism (cause it's medieval times).

Pairing - King!Steve x reader, Steve x reader x Bucky, Bucky x reader.

Word count - 5.8k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

“Steven,” you hummed next to his ear, his name smoothly rolling off your tongue. He never gave you the permission to call him that but you were his wife and soon-to-be queen, who would dare stop you?

He quirked a brow, looking up from the book he was reading to you, his blonde hair shining so brightly in the sunlight, the blue in his eyes even more prominent. “What do you want, my love?” he asked. Touching your lower lip with his thumb, pulling it down a bit just for his own amusement.

He had suggested a picnic with you to be more romantic. As you had demanded for him to be. It was his own fault, as much as he loved taking you apart and putting you back together every single night that wouldn’t be enough for a women. His late mother had taught better.

Never hit a woman. Always protect her and provide for her. Never force yourself on your wife.

He knew better than to even look at a woman the wrong way. He was well aware of his fathers philandering ways, how he had more than a few bastards, and the bruises his mother worked so hard to covered up.

Even though his half-brother Bucky was a product of an affair, his mother took him in and treated him as her own. Bucky had saved his life more times than he could count.

Looking at your pretty face now, he knew he could never do anything to hurt you. He loved you far too much, even though he had yet to tell you that. He knew for sure that anyone who dared hurt you would die a gruesome death by his hands.

“Would you like to play a game? I’m bored of reading.” you whined, pouting your bottom lip as his thumb stroked your chin.

You had been married to the king for over two months now and things couldn’t be better. You were sure he’d be cruel towards you, what with the way he treated you on your wedding night. But... apparently that was just a part of coupling. He only ever acted like that in bed.

He refused to let you have your own room. A king and queen sharing chambers was unheard of. At first, you weren’t sure what to make of it. He had given you the excuse of wanting a son as soon as possible and that there was no way he could keep his hands off of you.

“Sure,” he closed the book keeping it aside, “What would you like to play?”

“Well, I used to play tag with my sisters. So... um... I run and you chase after me, if you’re able to catch me then I run after you,” your eyes lit up. You hadn’t had a moment to breath or have childish fun in weeks with your wifely duties, which we’re too fun to be called ‘duties', and your duties as the future queen.

He shook his head, caressing your face “Can you run? You’re so clumsy, princess, I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” he teased. He had tried to teach you how to ride a horse but you seemed to have no sense of balance.

You puffed your cheeks, “I won’t.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” he laughed “What do I get if I catch you?”

“What would you like?” you blinked.

He hummed in thought, he could ask you what he really wanted. But it’d scare off a good girl like you. He’d have to train you and discipline you some more. You were still shy and inexperienced. It’d take time and he was more than willing to wait.

“I want a lot of things... but right now I’ll settle for a kiss,” he smiled.

“Just a kiss,” you giggled “deal,” you shook his hand on it before getting up and fixing your skirts.

“I’ll give some time to get far enough. It’s no fun if I catch you in a moment and win,” he smirked.

“We’ll see,” you hollered over your shoulder, already on your feet, running as fast as you could.

You ran for the woods near the palace, towards the small waterfall you loved so much.

Laughing in mirth, with the soft summer breeze in your face, you couldn’t bring yourself to care about mudding your skirts. You craned your neck to see if he was following you, sticking your tongue out to him, “You’ll never catch me.”

He frowned at that. He was running at a much slower pace, just to let you have your fun but he wasn’t about to let you get away with being so cheeky. It would set a bad precedent. Increasing his pace, he circled a hand around your waist, sweeping you off your feet and in the air, “What was that, princess?” he whispered huskily in your ear.

“Oh,” you shivered, squirming in his hold “It’s not fair! You’re a warrior, of course you’d be more athletic than me.”

“Now, don’t be a sore loser,” He pressed his lips to your cheek. “You’re only as good as your word,” he said putting you back down on your feet as you turned around to face him.

“Fine,” you grumbled, standing up on your toes and puckering your lips to kiss him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, stopping you.

“Kissing you?” you frowned.

“You promised a kiss. But we didn’t decide on where it would be.”

“Where do you want it?” you tilted your head, frowning in confusion.

He took a hold of your wrist, bringing your hand down to his crotch to make you feel his arousal. His chasing after you as if you’re his prey, had done something to him.

You gasped, “No! My king, not here.” you shook your head. You had only pleasured him with your mouth a few times, it was hard work but worth it to see make him feel good and seemed to work you up for some reason as well.

“You’re denying your king?” you shook your head again, “Get on with it before someone comes and sees us. It would be a scandal,” he rushed you, working on freeing his erection.

“I - ” you gulped. You had no other choice.

“Your grace!” you both whipped your head as you heard someone calling. “Your grace,” Peter came running through the bushes.

“What’s wrong?” Steve fixed his pants before walking towards the boy.

“We’ve just received word. The enemy has seized the fort in queens.” he heaved “and - and they’re terrorizing the villages. They killed the Lord and his family.”

Steve processed the new information. This was bad. As good as he was at fighting a war he’d never want to willingly do it. Not unless it was a last resort. It caused too much death and misery.

He had married you just to avoid one with your kingdom, hoping to make a firm, or a good enough, alliance instead. It was a blessing in disguise really.

“Alright. Get the troops ready. We’ll leave at first light. And send for Lord Barnes,” he instructed.

“My king,” he heard your trembling voice looking behind to see you so scared, hugging yourself to make yourself small, “Are you leaving as well?” you wanted to know.

“You know I have to, petal,” he replied pulling you flush against his chest. He nuzzled his nose in your hair “You have to take care of the kingdom while I’m gone.”

“But I don’t know anything.” you sniffled.

“You’re much stronger than you think,” he swayed you both to calm you, “ and on’t you worry. I’m leaving Bucky behind. He’ll guide you.”

“No,” you pulled away to look at his face “you said that he’s your sergeant. Don’t you need him?”

“I need the kingdom to be safe, too. Sweetheart, I know what I’m doing.” He said kissing your knuckles.

You twisted and turned in your bed. Missing the warmth your husband provided you with. But he had been gone for over a month. You had to post pone your coronation and your visit to your parents.

You drowned yourself in the courts activities everyday, hoping to keep your mind off of things. If anything happened to your husband, you couldn’t bear it.

You were surrounded by people everyday, who seemed kind but you had never felt so lonely. They were only kind to you because they were scared of you. They didn’t really know you.

And you didn’t know anyone there, except for James. While you had developed a friendship with him he was often busy with his duties.

You gave up on sleep. Putting a robe on to cover yourself, you made your way to James' chambers with your guards following you.

With the king being gone and you visiting his brother in the middle of the night - you knew it wouldn’t look good. You couldn’t think about that right now. You needed to speak to James. To confess your anxieties, to have him reassure you.

You didn’t bother to knock, you nudged the door open. You blinked, rubbing your eyes just to make sure you weren’t seeing things. A woman was straddling his waist, bouncing up and down on his cock, you didn’t even know women could be on top, another was... sitting... on his face? Why would she do that? Wouldn’t that suffocate him?

When she threw her head back, moaning wantonly, you understood. Your cheeks heated up as you realised what he was doing. Just like Steven uses his tongue and mouth on you...

“Oh heavens!” the one on his face gasped as the other one stopped her moments, looking at you as her jaw dropped.

“What?” James grumbled.

“It’s the queen,” she winced as they both got off of him, collecting their clothes “I’m sorry, your grace - we’re sorry,” she gave you an apologetic look. Scurrying their way out as James quickly put on his breeches.

“Your grace,” he greeted you. “What brings you here?” he grunted, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

“Who were they?” you asked. You had no idea how or why you felt so betrayed. James was his own person, he was known to be a ladies man, you should’ve expected this.

“They were whores, your grace.” His lips twitched as he suppressed a smirk at the incredulous look on your face. Steve had told him about your naiveté, how it was so adorable and how it strangely turned him on. He seemed to love having you as his wife, that was for sure.

“You’re doing this, while your brother is off fighting a war?” you scoffed.

“It was just a way to clear my mind, princess,” he retorted. “How can I help you?”

“I - ” you couldn’t even think of anything, what would you say? Why were you here anyway. “I miss, Steven,” you said, your bottom lip trembling as tears welled up in your eyes.

“Oh,” he smiled.

You truly were adorable. And while he was happy that his brother had someone who loved him so deeply, he couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealously. Steve had someone like you. Who loved him for who he was. Who was missing him and waiting for him to come home.

“Steve is very capable. He can take care of himself. Don’t you worry, he’ll be back before you know it,” he promised.

“We haven’t heard from him in days. What if, god forbid, something terrible had happened,” you choked on a sob, hugging yourself you thought of how miserable your life would be without him.

Not just because you’d have to take on an entire kingdom but also because you didn’t know what you would do with yourself without him. If you’d never see his face again... you couldn’t think of anything worse.

“Hey, now,” he was about to reason with you, but you wrapped your hands around his waist, burying your face in his damp chest. “He’ll be back. Have some faith,” he said.

Steve had never been good at sharing. Even as a kid he’d often be vaguely jealous. Since he was much smaller and sicklier than Bucky back then.

Bucky had to be on the receiving end of his simmering rage when he had danced with you at a soiree. It was supposed to be just an innocent dance, but you looked so beautiful, he couldn’t help himself as he flirted and joked and made you laugh.

Only to have Steve kick his ass in sparing the very next day. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. It was as if with every punch and kick he spoke 'don't touch my things.'

Who could he blame him? If he had a wife such as yourself he’d never want to share either.

If Steve were to see this, you hugging him while he was half naked and unchaperoned in his chambers in the middle of the night...

“I should go,” you murmured, looking up at him, his dark hair, much longer than your husbands, sticking to his handsome face.

“We can talk tomorrow. And don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he cupped your delicate face, swiping a thumb across your cheek, “Steve will be back.”

You nodded, walking towards the door, hoping to catch some sleep before you have to wake up for court, but then stopped abruptly.

Looking at him over your shoulder, you shouldn’t... you’re a lady, you’re the queen! You should know better but you had always been a curious girl.

“Can three people... make love at the same time? Is that possible?” your hands clutching your nightgown as if your life depended on it.

He gave you a hearty laugh, running his hand through his hair, “Not just three, many people can make love together. The most I’ve seen is... six.”

You turned to face him, “Six?!” you gasped. “Do men like doing that? Would that mean... would the king want something like this as well?”

“Yes, many men do... if you know how to treat a woman right then she would too. But you don’t have to worry about Steve. He’s never been THAT perverted.”

You hummed, and here you were thinking your husband was the most perverted man alive. “Can... two women make love together?” you had always wanted to know.

“Yes, they can. Two men can as well,” he answered.

“How would that work?” you frowned and then realised how it would, “But sodomy’s a sin!”

“Then I guess I’m going to hell,” he smirked.

“Have you been with a man?”

“Yes, I have. Do you hate me now?” he pouted.

“No,” you shook your head, “I could never hate you. I’ve always felt that was ridiculous. There is no reason for it to be unethical... right?”

“That’s right,” he nodded.

“I won’t tell anyone though. I wouldn’t want anything bad happening to you.”

“That’s kind of you, princess.”

You faked a wide smile, nodding here and there to make it look like you were listening. You had started a book club with the ladies of the court, just to get your mind off of Steven, who had now been gone for over two months.

He had stopped writing to you, only sending messages to the James and the kings guard now. He had finally defeated the enemy and was on his way home. You couldn’t think of anything else.

“Your grace,” you jerked when you heard your handmaiden whisper in your ear.

Looking over your shoulder, “What is it?”

“His majesty is here,” she grinned, visibly happy for you.

“What?” you got up, “Where is he?”

“He’s in his chambers. We tried to stop him, so he could get a proper welcome but he was much too eager to see you,” she giggled.

“Ladies,” you turned to them, trying to curb your giddiness and act as elegant as you could, “You’ll have to excuse me. Please do continue without me.”

Steve groaned as he felt his muscles loosen up in the warm water, looking around his chambers for you.

“Where is the queen?” he asked his footman. He had sent for you over an hour ago and his patience was running thin.

“I’ll look into it right away - ”

“My king?” he heard your sweet voice calling for him, “He’s not here...” the partition to the bathtub probably restricting your view of him.

He chuckled at how disappointed you were, “I’m right here, petal,” he called, getting up from the bath as his footman helped him into a robe.

His heart swelled upon finally seeing your pretty face, letting out a shaky exhale, he took you in as the servants excused themselves. He pulled you into his chest, enveloping you in a warm hug. “How’s my queen doing?”

“Lonely without you,” you mumbled, propping your chin on his bare chest so you could look up at him, “You... shaved...” you touched his smooth jaw.

He looked much younger and different without his thick masculine beard. Not as rugged as he used to, just as handsome but in a boyish way.

“Yes, I did,” he kissed your palm, “Do you like it?” he asked as you nodded. He had only done it for you. He hadn’t been able to take proper care of it when he was away and he wanted to look presentable for you. “I’m sorry you were lonely, my love. I was too, more than you could ever imagine. All I thought about was you.”

“Do you promise to never leave me for so long again?”

“I’ll never leave you. I don’t think my poor heart could bear it. You’ve turned me soft.”

“I won’t have you make fun of me!” you half-heartedly pushed at his chest.

He held onto your wrists, for someone so small and dainty you sure could do a lot of damage with your punches, “I swear I’m not making fun of you, I love you,” he confessed.

You laid your head on his beating heart so he wouldn’t see you all flustered, “Well, I love you too,” you grumbled.

You noticed the gash on his neck, “You’re hurt!” you gasped, “We should call the doctor...”

“I’ve had much worse, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about it,” he smiled at you biting your lip in worry, always so adorable, pulling it away with his thumb, he bent to nip at it. “I missed the way you taste, I’ve been thinking about it for so long, it’s the only thing that got me through.”

You hummed, your face heating up as he pressed his arousal into your stomach, his hands holding onto the curve of your hips. “My king...” you shivered.

“We can talk later, right now I have to have you, I know you missed me too...” he whispered against your ear.

You felt a shudder creep up your spine as his hot breath fanned against the shell of your ear, “Maybe later, if you let me tend to you first.”

“You want to take care of me?” he beamed at you as you nodded. “Very well. But only for a few moments after that I won’t hear any more excuses and put that mouth to good use,” he said, pressing his lips to yours one more time.

There wasn’t much you knew about treating wounds, you were only doing so for your own peace of mind anyway so you simply cleaned the few scratches and gashes he had, kissing them like your mother did to your wounds when you were little, remembering how that always made you feel better.

“They’re the best kind of medicine,” he said about your kisses, “I have a cut here,” he said pointing at his lip, wanting some more of them.

“Don’t tease me!” you huffed.

You felt his muscles go stiff as you kissed him between his shoulders, now that you didn’t have to look at his face it’d be much easier for you to talk, “I heard the ladies at the court talking, they were saying if I can’t get pregnant in three months it means I never will.”

The thought of being barren and a disappointment to him terrified you to no end.

He shook his head, “You need to stop listening to gossip - ”

“But,” you interrupted him and pouted your bottom lip quivering as you recalled their harsh words when they thought you weren’t listening, “They also said that if I can’t get pregnant you’ll get a second wife,” to which he laughs, “don’t laugh at me, you always make fun of me,” you puff your cheeks.

“I’m not cleaning you up anymore,” throwing the rag on the ground, “or letting you make love to me.”

He growled at that, turning around and pinning you to the bedding, “You don’t get to decide that, love, or tell me no, when will you understand?” he scoffed as if he was scolding a child, sneaking a hand up your skirts and inside your breeches. His fingers toying with your wet lips.

“Now that I’m back we’re going to try to make a prince every night. Before you know it you’ll be swell with my child, I won’t stop then though,” he smirked, “I’ll have you whenever I want,” it’ll only be better when your body would be fuller and curvier with his heir.

“I’m never taking another wife, ever,” he said, pulling his hard cock out of his robe, pushing it into you slowly, your walls gripping him tighter than he remembered, better than his hand could ever be, “This is the best cunt I’ve ever had. There’s no way I could ever have another,” he tried to fight off his climax so he could make you come at least once before filling you up as you squirmed and whimpered under him, “... you’ve ruined me.”

This was strange. It was almost time for bed and Steve wasn’t back. Usually he’d back much sooner, so he could perform his husbandly duties. Even though you had been trying, so hard, for over a month you had gotten your menses just a few days ago.

You were so disappointed, you didn’t have the heart to tell him, but you had to when he tried to coax you in bed. Sobbing in his arms as he calmed you, “We’ll try again, we have all the time in the world,” he had said and you couldn’t believe how kind he was. Until he had his way with you anyway, even while you were bleeding.

“As if a little bit of blood if going to bother me.” While there was you purpose for it, you knew you couldn’t make a baby while on your monthly you now also knew that you could do it with your husband solely for pleasure.

“When will the king be back?” you asked your maid as she worked on helping you get ready for bed.

“I saw him on in the gardens with Lord Barnes,” she answered, helping you into your nightgown, “Shall I send him a message?”

“No, that’s alright.”

You dismissed her, sitting on the edge of your bed you worked on a scarf you had been stitching for your mother while waiting for the king. You planned on giving it to her when she would visit you for your coronation. She would be expecting some good news as well and you hoped to have that for her as well.

You perked up when you hear the doors to your chambers creak open loudly, putting away your work for now you made sure to look into the mirror one last time to look presentable.

“How was your day, petal?” he hugged you from behind, burying his nose in the crook of your neck, “You smell so good,” he hummed.

“Steven,” you giggled. “Thank you, I had a very long day with the preparations for the ball and the court.”

“Hope you’re not too tired,” his voice salacious and hoarse with desire as he cupped your breast through the thin material.

“No,” you shook your head, “Not at all. I mean... not too much,” you added so you wouldn’t seem too eager, “do you want to...”

“There’s someone joining us tonight.”

“What do you mean?” you turned to look up at him, his blue eyes, usually as blue as the sky on a summer afternoon, much darker now.

“You told me how much Bucky helped you and how much you loved him, right?”

You nodded, you hadn’t really used the word love, you were quite fond of him but didn’t know yet if you loved him.

“Hey, there, princess,” you yelped when you heard James' voice before seeing standing at the door.

“I told you to wait,” Steve gritted.

“You were taking too long,” he took a few long, lazy strides as you scrambled to put a robe on. “You wanted to know how three people can make love at once - now you can find out for yourself,” he said to you.

Your chest heaved as you swallowed a lump of air, “Steven, what? What’s going on?”

Steve cupped your cheeks in his palms, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, “My mother told me to, made me swear on her deathbed, to take care of Bucky, to look out for him and I haven’t been doing that. I’ve been selfish with you...”

“You’re always selfish with the things you like,” Bucky chided.

“But I’m working on that. I have to get better at sharing, if I have a woman as good as you, I am obligated to share.” He tried to explain as Bucky pulled you away from him, your back pressed to his front, “Bucky,” he scolded, “wait a minute, will you?”

“I’ve waiting long enough,” he licked a stripe up your neck, leaving goose bumps on the wet skin, “You’re right she does smell good.”

“I don’t understand... is this a test?”

“No, petal. Bucky’s going to help us conceive. After you give me my son you can give us both daughters. As beautiful as you. I’ve always wanted a girl,” he smiled.

“What if people find out,” you tried to swat Bucky’s hands away but he pinned them both on your back, undressing you and taking off your robe, followed by your gown.

“They won’t. Even if they do, who’s going to stop us?”

“But.... but... doesn’t James want a wife and kids of his own?”

“He has sworn his life to protect the crown. He can’t marry or have kids.”

“Do you want me to go away, princess?” he asked you, ripping your gown away as it pooled at your feet, leaving you naked in front of both of them, “Do you want me to marry another woman?”

“No...” you shook your head.

And because he had grown tired of your questions Steve kissed you, if only to shut you up. He pulled away as James threw you over his shoulder, carrying you to the bed and thrown you on the bed.

He pushed your knees apart, settling between them he traced your inner thighs.

You tried to push him away, to close your legs. The idea of being with James was tempting... but you had sworn yourself to Steven. This wasn’t supposed to be right. This is not how it’s supposed to happen... you can only be with your husband. But it was also your duty to obey him... and he wanted this to happen.

“Steve, a little help here,” Bucky groaned and looked to Steve.

He simply shook his head, climbing on the bed, he pinned your hands above your head, “I told you she was feisty. That’s alright, though. I like it when she struggles and pretends that she doesn’t enjoy it when I fuck her so hard and deep,” he looked down at you as you pleaded him with your eyes, “Till you can barely think or walk straight. She likes it, but she’d never admit it.”

You whimpered, fresh tears streaming down your face as your husband spoke such vulgar things about you...

“Oh!” you squealed, feeling James' finger prodding at your entrance before sinking into you.

“Gotta get you ready for my brother,” he cooed, soothing a hand down your hair, “Shh... it’s okay, just take it like a good girl. Don’t you want to be good for us? To please your king and give us princes and princesses?” he asked as he kept his fingers driving in and out of your heat at a leisurely pace, “Well?” he prodded further.

“Love,” you look up at Steve when you heard his gritty voice, “Bucky asked you a question. Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough but from now on you have to listen to both of us. Do whatever we tell you. We know what’s best for you.”

You nodded, your eyes misty as you felt your abdominal muscles clench, “Yes, yes I do want to have your babies,” you whimpered as James latched onto a hardened bud on your breast, you held onto Steve’s hands as the coil in your gut snapped.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed out, looking at your fucked out pussy, glistening with want, “I’m going to fuck you, just for a bit, get you stretched out and warmed up for your husband,” he declared, his cock achingly hard at just the idea of it as he rid himself of his clothes.

“Steve told me all about how you have some magical pussy, he’s addicted to it,” he lined himself up to your entrance, looking up at his brother for just a moment before looking back to your face, “now I get to find out for myself,” he moaned as he pushed his length inside you.

“Isn’t she something?” Steve said, licking away your salty tears and letting go of your wrists since you were done being a brat, “You always look so pretty when you cry,” he praised as you whined, he held your jaw and made you look down, two sexes meeting, Bucky’s cock fucking in and out of you, “Whose cock do you like better, sweetheart?” he asked you.

You shook your head, refusing to answer, closing your eyes you let yourself get lost in the feeling of James, he was stretching you out so painfully and deliciously, your mind cloudy and unable to think or even form a coherent sentence. You felt the familiar coil forming in your belly but then James abruptly.

“Damn,” he heaved, slipping his cock out of you, “I almost came.”

“What?” you blinked as Steve switched places with James, spreading yours juices around your drenched lips, heat radiating between your legs.

“You’re all warmed up nice now, petal,” he pulled his hand away, taking his cock out of his pants, “I want you on all fours,” he instructed, flipping you over.

You barely had enough strength to stay up but James helped you by pulling at your shoulders, his hard cock bumping against your nose as you winced.

“Arch you back nicely now, I want to see your ass,” he pushed at your lower back till your ass was perched up to him, smearing his pre ejaculate against you, he sank into your heat. Moving his hips brutally against you, since you were already prepared for him.

“Will you suck me off, princess?” Bucky asked but didn’t wait for your answer as he pushed his erection past your lips, shuddering as you licked the underside of his cock, “Steve taught you well,” he breathed out. Holding onto your head, driving his cock in it, you couldn’t take all of him, but you didn’t have to, this was more than enough.

Steve had loved you since the moment he met you. He didn’t know if he could call the impure thoughts he had about you love but it was the closet thing he could think of. He wouldn’t even let another man touch you, let alone use you or fuck you like only he is allowed to.

But this was different. This was Bucky. His brother and soulmate. They were basically the same person, they could share you. He loved the idea of starting a family with you both.

He flipped you so you were on your back, he kissed you, “I’m going to fill you up, sweetheart, why don’t you come with me? Can you do that for your king?” he snaked a hand between your bodies, rolling your bundle of nerves between his fingers as Bucky whispered sweet nothings to you, telling you the names he had picked out for your kids, as you clenched around him, gushing all over him.

He released inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He pulled away to look down at you, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath but he stayed inside you, to make sure his seed stays in your womb.

He smiled as you weakly wrapped you hand around Bucky’s cock, stroking him till he released all over you, white spend painting you pretty skin, all over your breasts and your stomach.

He finally pulled his soft cock out of you, laying beside you as Bucky pulled you on to if him.

“Give me a minute to get hard again,” he ran a hand through sticky hair.

“Take all the time you need,” Bucky smiled, nibbling your ear, playing with the mess between your legs, you tried to squirm but he kept a firm hold on you as he played with your sensitive pussy.

“Didn’t you hear? He’s going to fuck you again, we have to keep you ready, princess,” smearing some of the juices around the tight ring of your second hole as you gasped. “Maybe you’ll be able to take both of us at the same time someday, hm?”

“That’s... possible?” you asked as he pushed a finger in, it was strange and uncomfortable, yet you wanted more of it.

“Of course, you can. With proper training,” he kissed your temple as Steve climbed back on top of you both.

Nudging at your swollen cunt, you winced in pain, “Is it too much, petal? Do you want me to stop?” he wanted to know. He’d love to fill you up some more, but not at the expense of your discomfort. He had scared you enough already.

“No,” you held onto his shoulders, “I want it, please,” looking at him with shining eyes. He could never say no to you. Just as you to him.

“Whatever you say, love,” he smiled, licking your lips till you grant him access to your mouth, he prodded at you tongue.

He was slow and steady, mindful of the bruises on your body and your overworked cunt. He was close as Bucky pushed two fingers inside you and around his cock, stretching you out even more.

He was about to reprimand him, to tell him to be more patient with his delicate innocent wife, but you screamed out in beautiful agony, exploding around his cock and begging for more. From Bucky or from him, he wasn’t sure.

“Maybe we’ll get our son tonight itself.”

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be added to the taglist.

I really hoped y'all liked it🤭🤭 idk how the first part has so many notes but I love this trope so much! Like some king Steve corrupting a good sweet girl ugh🥺🥺

Comments and reblogs are really appreciated.

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#berry writes #king!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes x reader

[angelicspaceprince]

NSFW Alphabet Heisenberg Headcanons

For obvious reasons, this contains smut and is for 18+ only readers. Again, I’m posting only my headcanons onto tumblr, both can be found on my AO3

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Very grabby, has a tendency to be a little softer. Loves a good cuddle after sex, definitely praises you constantly. He loves to wash you down with a cloth, wiping away all of the cum, the sweat, the blood, the tears, as he murmurs soft words of praise and encouragement, pressing a small kiss here and there as he does so.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

I’m not entirely sure if Heisenberg would like any part of his body - it's just a vessel to him I believe. I think his favourite part of himself would be his discount magneto powers because that gives him the ability to create so many new tools to play with when it comes to having sex with you, some even on the spot.

For you, he loves your hands. He sees them as soft and gentle and he loves the feel of them in his work-worn, rough hands as he pushes you down into the bed, or them cupping his face as you pepper his face with kisses, telling him what a good boy he’s being for you, or when their wrapped around his dick as you jerk him off in a way that has him melting against your back and rolling his hips up into your palm.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming inside or on you, there is no way in hell he’d ever wear a condom. It’s a marking thing, he needs to make sure you know that you’re his. He doesn’t have a preference for where he cums, just as long as it’s somewhere on you. If you spit and not swallow, he thinks it’s a waste of his seed and gets huffy about it - he’d much rather see it across your face than down the sink.

He cums a lot and it’s ungodly thick as well.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’s fucked a lycan, been fucked by a lycan, and he fucking loved it. Was tempted to fuck a soldat but that was a little too much for him.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing? )

I’d say pretty experience, if anything, he fucks the girls at the village mostly to spite and in an attempt piss off Miranda. He’d mellowed out about a decade before you met him, but definitely he’s had the time to gain quite a lot of experience.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Lotus, or any position where you’re on top of him. He enjoys grinding up into you and watching you come undone on top of him, but also means it's easier for him to grab at different parts of you - this goes for eating out too, he loves it when you sit on his face and ride him to completion. Loves mating press too, when he’s feeling particularly primal.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

By ‘goofy’ for H, I more think of sadomasochism or teasing you when you cum so hard you can’t see straight. I think he’d crack a few jokes here and there to make you laugh and you’d definitely have fun but for the most part, I think he’s more all about getting you riled up until you’re a trembling, begging mess.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

He is a hairy, hairy man who doesn’t give a shit about his grooming - he would have a thick and large amount of pubes that are wiry just like his beard. If you asked, he’d probably tame it down a little, but if you don’t care, it wouldn’t even cross his mind.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Only after leaving the village will he 100% let his guard down to be intimate during sex I think. There would be a lot of praise and stuff whilst you’re at the village, but it doesn’t really become too intimate until after everything has washed over. I fully believe the first time he says ‘I love you’ was in German and whilst you two were having possibly the most intimate round of sex you’d ever had in your life the first night after your escape from the village. After sex is usually where he’s the most intimate - where he will murmur softly against your skin about how good you are to him and how he adores you and can’t believe that you’re in his life.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

I feel like he’d jack off quite frequently before you were around and even then, it probably doesn’t change much once you’re there. If he has no time for sex with you and it’s literally just an urge to deal with so he can concentrate on his work? Then yeah, he’ll pull out his dick and stroke himself off as he continues to work without a care in the world. It’s just to clear his mind so he can focus on the task at hand, to him it's no different than eating or sleeping. Just something he has to do to get by.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

It’d be a lot easier to list the kinks he doesn’t have - shit, vomit and death. Beyond that, anything else is on the tables. His favourites would definitely include pred/prey, bondage, overstim, bloodplay, watersports, knife play, choking, cumplay/breeding kink, cockwarming, exhibitionism/voyeurism and marking/biting. He does have a preference for an active and willing partner, that being said CNC is also something he would enjoy as long as it was clear that both parties wanted it prior to the scene being played out.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Loves fucking at his desk - cockwarming especially. Loves cockwarming during inappropriate times too, like during family meetings. Or fucking you at Lady D’s house, edging you on and reminding you not to make a sound whilst making it impossible for you not to moan or scream his name. Anywhere and everywhere is an option for Heisenberg, but the riskier it is, the more he seems to love it.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Literally, anything and everything. A breeze hitting him the right way will get him horny. You could be walking past in sweatpants and a baggy jumper and he will want you bent over the bench with his dick railing into you. It doesn’t take much, the man ain’t fussy.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Killing someone during sex would be a big turn off. Involving any talk of Miranda or Lady D would also be off limits.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Doesn’t really have a preference. Is a master at getting you off with his mouth and will gladly spend hours dedicated to mapping you out and causing you to cum again and again with his just tongue. By the time he’s finished with you, you won’t be able to walk and you definitely will have a number of bruises and bite marks against your thighs as well as a pretty decent beard burn going on. His favourite thing to do once he’s pulled away is to put his cold hands against your thighs specifically where his beard burn is, just to feel you squirm and attempt to kick him away.

Receiving - he loves throat fucking you, or having you kneel under his workbench, tied up nice and tight, with his dick resting heavy on your tongue as he works, occasionally reaching down to stroke your hair, scratch at your scalp or fucking his hips up into you so you don’t get too cozy down there. Your jaw and throat always aches afterwards and he loves hearing how hoarse he’s made your voice - he will always have a drink waiting for you afterwards, but first he needs to hear how well he’s fucked your voice out.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

It’ll depend on the mood - definitely after leaving the village there is more of an opportunity for Heisenberg to reach a more romantic, slow and sensual pace (although it definitely happened whilst in the village, it was just rare as often Heisenberg used sex as a stress release as well as a way to feel like he’s achieved something or made someone proud), but his more natural pace will always be fast, deep and on the rougher side.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Good way to scratch an itch and was, for a good portion at the beginning of your relationship, the only way you’d have sex as the only reason you were having sex was to scratch an itch or for stress relief. As time went on, things changed and although ‘proper’ sex and longer sessions became the norm (especially because he loved to dedicate the time to map out every inch of your body and see exactly what makes you tick), he still loves a good quickie during the day.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

He will try anything once, after all it’s how you figure out if you like something or not! In terms of risks, if it's a risk of getting caught, he is more than happy to take it. If it's a risk to your safety? Not on his life.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

It doesn’t take long for Heisenberg to recover - unless you’re having a quickie, you best be ready for multiple rounds. Even if he can’t get it up, he will plaster his mouth between your thighs until your voice is hoarse and you’re squirming and weakly tugging at his hair in a vain attempt to pull him away. He loves feeling your strength pull away with each orgasm, seeing how weak and tired you become because of him. He’d never go too fair without prior warning, and if you safe-word out he will pull away instantly and be straight into aftercare mode. As for how long he lasts…..it really does depend on the situation, but if you have enough time and are in an environment where he feels safe, who knows how long he’d last. You have sat in his lap, cock buried deep inside of you for the entirety of many a family meeting, having to hide the fact that he was hard and throbbing inside of you. So, you know for a fact, he can last that long under stressful situations.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He’d make his own and have a little collection. He’d definitely think of something whilst working on his metal army, make it and instantly turn to find you to test them out. If it’s something a bit more intense, he’ll test it on himself first before seeking you out.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He loves to tease you and keep you on edge of your first orgasm, making it out that he’s close to making you scream only to pull back and watch you pout, beg or even scream in frustration. His favourite place to tease you, though, is in a place where you can’t protest or beg, where you need to be silent or keep whatever you’re doing a secret. That’s definitely when the worst of his teasing will come out.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

It will depend on the situation (see wild card for submissive!H), but usually? He wants to drink in the sounds he has you make - he’s all short grunt and growls and soft murmurs of praise against your skin and dark promises that merge seamlessly with general dirty talk with small groans and moans peppered throughout. If he’s had an awful day, however? He’s much louder, much more aggressive. He needs to fuck his emotions out - and this is definately when his pred/prey kink comes into full swing. He will chase you throughout the village, throughout his factory, wherever he can, and is nothing but growls and snarls, every sound coming from his throat animalistic. He also bites a lot more too, claiming you as his, and it’s the only time that his sounds are muffled slightly.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

If you get him worked up enough if you get the chance to dom him (he will sub for a selected few), he will always end up babbling out his begs in German. If you ask nice enough, he may order you around in German or Romanian, but the only time it naturally comes out is when he’s so far gone into subspace, so needy and desperate, that it’s just natural for him to speak his first language. In general, if you get him to sub for you, he will not shut the fuck up - all moans and whimpers and broken groans, small promises to be good for you if you would just touch him already . Bratty sub for sure, definitely into pet play. Will only ever be able to handle a gentle dom for obvious reasons, and has a major, major, major praise kink, both giving and receiving but get this boy into subspace and praise him and just watch him whine and squirm and ask for more. If he’s misbehaving at home and you jokingly say ‘behave pup’, he will get flustered so quickly.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

Body wise, he is quite muscular but has a nice layer of fat to soften things out - it actually surprises you how strong he is from brute strength alone because he definitely doesn’t look it at first glance.

Cock wise - he’s more thick than he is long, average length but with a good amount of girth that has you feeling that stretch for hours afterwards.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I’d say pretty high, but he is also good at distracting himself from it? During his tenure at the village, he’s so focused on escaping that it looks like his sex drive is low to normal. But the moment you get out of the village? Have your own place where it’s safe and no one is there to stop you? All bets are off, he cannot keep his hands off of you. Half of it is catching up for lost time, half of it is just the fact that the man is permanently horny.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

When domming: He doesn’t fall asleep often, but he will doze or rest his eyes for a second and enjoy the afterglow. He won’t leave to go back to work until you’ve fully conked out though, unless something desperately pressing comes up and he has to go. He’d rather spend this small amount of quality time with you and making sure you’re okay before leaving you alone and even when he does leave when you’re asleep, he has his eyes on his monitor with a live feed of you sleeping, just in case something goes wrong and you need him.

After subbing: He usually passes out pretty quickly. Subbing takes a lot more energy out of him than domming does, so once he’s cleaned up and has received his dose of praise and love, he usually falls asleep with his head in your lap, on your tummy or on your chest. He can’t wake up alone after a sub scene, even the very idea of it freaks him out, so you better make sure you have something to do as he naps because once he’s out, he’s asleep for hours.

#toby writes #fanfiction #toby's writing #fanfic #angelicspaceprince #bd/sm dynamics #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg/reader #karl heisenberg #ns/fw headcanons #resident evil 8 #resident evil village

[greensaplinggrace]

In a recent malarklina post you mentioned having many headcanons 👀 Care to share with the class?

So I went over some character hcs for the three of them in this post! But here are a few that are specifically Malarklina. (Some of these are set in an Immortal!Mal AU and some aren't, sorry if it gets a bit confusing).

Aleksander has a competency kink and is attracted to Alina showing off her sun powers and Mal showing off his tracking abilities.

Alina makes them both little suns that follow them around to always light their path. This is especially meaningful to Aleksander, although he'd never admit it, because he used to be afraid of the dark as a child.

Mal reminds Aleksander of Luda, and he often goes into depressive states when considering the fact of Mal's mortality. Once Alina fully grasps the reality of the situation, she often suffers from them as well. During these times, Mal tries to be there for them as much as he can, but it's a heavy burden to bear alone.

They all have difficult relationships with gender and sexuality and at one point actually end up sitting down (completely by accident, because Aleksander is allergic to emotions) to talk about this aspect of their lives in more depth.

Aleksander usually sleeps in the middle because he's a) touch-starved and b) an attention whore, but they switch it up on occasion.

Mal is the most clingy sleeper in the history of sleepers. Aleksander and Alina have both woken up on more than one occasion to Mal literally laying fully on top of them and wrapped around them like an octopus. Aleksander likes the weight and usually just snuggles in deeper but Alina has to wiggle out of the way most of the time so she can breathe.

Mal likes Aleksander with short hair but Alina likes him with long hair. This is the source of many fights in their relationship, none of which Aleksander is actually apart of.

Alina and Aleksander both like Mal with longer hair and so he's press ganged into growing it out.

Mal and Alina love every single song Aleksander hates.

When Mal pisses Aleksander off it's no sex for a day even after a dozen apologies, but when Alina pisses him off all she has to do is say sorry and he'll just eat her out right then, not a care in the world.

Aleksander is very physically affectionate, but Mal and Alina have phases of liking it and disliking it, so they have to balance a way to take care of each other's needs without pushing boundaries.

Aleksander is directionally challenged because I said so and Mal and Alina constantly have to make sure he doesn't get lost.

Kissing scars has become a very intimate practice between them all.

Aleksander keeps an obsessively clean house but Alina's paint supplies get everywhere, that paired with Mal just shucking off his hunting outfits anywhere in the house and dumping his gardening/hunting supplies wherever's most convenient means that Aleksander is in a constant state of annoyance about their living situation.

Alina makes a Rule about Mal and Aleksander fighting after Mal straight up tackles Aleksander off the side of the roof when they're trying to figure out how to replace shillings.

They all spar with each other at least once every other day. This mostly started as a means of keeping themselves sharp in case of danger, but it quickly became a bonding routine of sorts. Turns out Aleksander has a lot of information stored up about fighting. That paired with Mal's military training makes for some very intense spars as well as the rapid growth of all three of them into some of the most dangerous fighters on the planet.

@mal-zoya now has me convinced that it will take at least 500 years for Mal and Aleksander to admit they love each other.

Aleksander likes it when they wear his clothes. Alina likes wearing Mal and Aleksander's clothes. There is a lot of clothing sharing going on. It gets to the point where the only way they can tell who's clothing is who's is based on color scheme and the quality of the cloth and occasionally (but not always) the size as well.

Mal and Alina infodump all the time about their passions and Aleksander eats it up. He loves it. He thinks his partners are the smartest people in the universe.

When Alina is suffering from artist's block she goes to Aleksander for inspiration. When she's inspired she goes to Mal to create.

Mal is generally the one who cooks all of their meals because Alina will get distracted when she's going on an art spree and Aleksander will just straight up forget he's a human sometimes. But when Mal doesn't do it Aleksander does it because he has Standards and he's not about to let his partners starve to death, thank you very much.

Aleksander and Mal used to cook plainer foods in the beginning of the relationship but they both slowly shake off some of the chains of their upbringings and previous ways of life to slowly try out more elaborate and lush recipes. Alina has come home on more than one occasion to see them collaborating on a new recipe Aleksander managed to flirt/finagle out of one of the old ladies from the nearby village.

Alina likes to ride out every day and sometimes ropes Aleksander or Mal into going with her. There are lots of picnics and packed lunches in their life. When they go to an especially scenic spot, she'll sit there for hours and draw.

Mal won't ever be able to fully understand the meaning of Alina's immortality. It would be impossible to, even with many explanations and having to deal with Aleksander's own traumas as a result. But that doesn't stop him from attempting to learn as much as he can to make things easier for both of his partners.

Alina attempts to join the local ladies' knitting group in the nearby village but hates it. Aleksander, on the other hand, finds it to be the most valuable source of gossip in the village. He rapidly becomes a part of the club and returns home with boatloads of gossip by the day. Alina and Mal have no idea what to do with literally any of this information, but Aleksander certainly does. Getting involved in small town drama is, in his opinion, one of the best things he ever decided to do. Mal and Alina are beginning to think he needs some therapy.

Mal starts a little farm outside of their cottage and Alina starts a flower garden. Alina also begins to amass a small library over time, with the help of Aleksander "is this an original text?! maybe so" Morozova. Mal is not expecting to come home one day to an entirely new room built into the house and a massive collection of books lining the walls.

Alina and Aleksander will use their powers actively all day. In fact, they both get so comfortable with summoning that they just start letting their emotions affect their summoning all the time. And so Mal has a very good indicator for whether or not his partners are upset or happy based on the way the shadows and lights flicker, much akin to the way people judge how their cats are feeling based on what their tails are doing.

Also, though, Mal just feels proud that they both trust him enough and feel comfortable enough around him and in their home to feel as if they don't need to watch themselves constantly.

Alina still likes mapmaking and, after a few years of peace where she starts to get restless, she slowly begins to do it again. Every two months or so she'll go out on a long trip to map a few of the nearby areas. She quickly builds up a side business of selling her personal maps to the people of whatever town they're living near.

Aleksander eventually opens up enough to share some of his past with Alina and Mal. He especially begins to engage more with the pieces of his culture that he had to forsake in order to assimilate over the years. Alina and Mal are always more than willing to help him puzzle through a half remembered recipe or a phrase in his native tongue that he's partially forgotten. They feel honored every time he shares a small piece of his history with them.

Nightmares are a common occurrence between all of them and whenever one happens a cuddle pile of epic proportions ensues. Also sometimes they talk about feelings have some pillow talk to work through things. Aleksander will also sometimes sing them back to sleep. His lullabies are haunting, but his singing voice is beautiful, and it usually does the trick. He refuses to sing for them outside of these moments, however.

Alina adores the height difference between her and her very tall partners. She thinks its fucking stellar.

Alina and Mal start up an orphanage on many occasions throughout the centuries. Alina loves kids and constantly helps them when she can. She mourns the fact that she won't ever be able to adopt without having to watch them grow old without her.

They've all discussed having kids at multiple points throughout their lives, and they all want to do so. But Aleksander wants to wait until Grisha persecution is no longer even the hint of an issue. Alina and Mal agree to wait, largely because they want some time to think on it too.

Mal tries to teach Alina how to shoot one day and she accidentally clips Aleksander as he's coming outside with lunch. He never lets her live it down and on more than one occasion attempts to use it for sympathy points, even hundreds of years later.

Aleksander is both the big spoon and the little spoon, but he likes being the big spoon (in reality he's a knife, of course). Mal likes being the little spoon but is often relegated to the big spoon, and Alina likes being both.

Alina paints a portrait of Mal and Aleksander cuddled up in bed once and no matter how much they entreat her to burn it she absolutely refuses to do so.

Aleksander is basically a walking, talking source of illegal activity, and he can't be taken anywhere anymore without expecting some sort of crime to take place.

Alina tries to adopt a little black cat one day and Aleksander gets outrageously jealous. He spends about two months being bitter, then another two months trying to chase it off, but the creature stays with them all until it dies of old age (and he'll never admit to privately grieving it's loss, although Mal and Alina both know it).

All of their communication skills are absolutely atrocious but Alina is the best. Mal is the second best. Aleksander doesn't even rank. Over time, they get into the habit of it, though. They practice at it painfully for years until they reach the point where healthy communication becomes second nature.

Mal proposes to Alina one day (after much talk between all three of them) and they get married. A couple years later they both propose to Aleksander (after zero talk, he is suitably surprised and also maybe a bit teary eyed). They have an illegal wedding on holy ground at midnight with a bribed and essentially kidnapped pastor.

Aleksander spends an excessive amount of money on Alina and Mal. He buys them things constantly and lavishes them with gifts. Alina loves it but it grates on Mal for a time until he realizes it isn't a means of manipulation as much as a love language and a shoddy attempt at communication and expressing feelings.

Once they reach the modern world (in an Immortal!Mal AU), they all get phones and send each other the most cursed texts in all of history. The group chat is a hellspace and the individual chats are just pure shittalking. Nowhere is free.

Shopping in the modern world consists of chaotic impulse buys and the excessive waste of money. They're all each other's impulse control, but they can't always go out together at the same time, so it's usually only in groups of two. Which means that when Alina's gone, Aleksander fills the cart with sweets. And when Mal is gone, Alina fills the cart with an inordinate amount of bananas (which are new) and microwavable easy to eat meals and paint supplies and oh! look at these pretty notebooks on display!. And when Aleksander is gone the cart its legitimately just a free for all. He comes home and there's mincemeat and apple pies cooking for some reason. Mal has a new apron. The fire alarm has been replaced. Turns out they stopped at an ikea on the way back and now they have a better dining table.

Alina is the best driver of them all. Aleksander goes way too fast but he never crashes. Mal refuses to even step foot in a car for about half a decade.

Aleksander is actually the one that gets into makeup. He quite enjoys it and thinks maybe his partners need to live a little for once. They both very firmly disagree.

Alina loses the tv remote constantly and it drives Mal absolutely wild. Sometimes Aleksander will steal it just to watch Mal go into a frenzy looking for it.

Alina builds up a large following for her art (and the art of her 'ancestors') over the centuries. Modern day Alina is basically famous, but luckily nobody knows her face.

#okay this got too long i had to stop alsjdflkjds #i got very carried away im so sorry #some of these are just plain aus but I Do Not Care #asks and answers #anon #malarklina #mymetas #shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #alina starkov #aleksander morozova #the darkling #malyen oretsev #darklina #malina #myramblings #alina x darkling x mal #myhcs

[sombreboy]

Who’s your king?♕MYG

♕18+ nsfw ♕ pairing: king!myg x female reader ♕ genre: pwp smut, fluff ♕ word count: 2.5k ♕ warnings: smut, blowjob, power kink, worship kink, he has long hair lmao, throne fucking, unprotected sex/creampie, dirtytalk, some fluff ♕ A/N: I want to thank @chimoona​​ for helping me out and supporting me when I couldn’t find the words because I lost sleep to get this done. I wouldn’t have been able to get this out without her, she’s the best. ily♡

“Does this please you, my king?” Your very words would be his undoing. King. My king. You said it like a prayer to the highest power.

‘‘Who’s your king?’‘

Your weight shifted between your feet as you stood in front of the man that owned every fibre of your being. It was just you and him, in his grand empty throne room, with the man himself comfortably seated on his throne.

‘‘You.’‘

‘‘Tsk,’‘ Yoongi clicked his tongue, the elbow resting on the armchair of his throne serving as leverage as he placed his chin on his palm. His feline-shaped eyes squinted slightly as his gaze pinned your feet to the wooden floor, ‘‘Don’t test me, princess… Try again.’‘

He knew you were quite the brat at times, and he loved it for the solemn reason of being able to put you back in your place. Which, in this case would be on your knees beneath him.

‘‘Hm..’‘ You played dumb, pretending to ponder on what words he possibly wanted, ‘‘Yoongi?’‘ you said his given name with a coy smile playing on your lips as you slowly rocked on your feet, hands clasped together in front of you.

Yoongi’s lips tugged in a playful smirk, an expression on his face that had never failed to practically melt your brain, unable to focus on anything but the growing desire for him to discipline you.

This was a game that the two of you would play more frequently than not. He thrived on the bratty attitude only you dared to utilize in front of him. The two of you were close, ever since he’d found you when he was on a stroll through his village months ago, hiding his face beneath a straw hat. He often stopped by your herbal tea shop to catch a glimpse of you, and after the third time you finally recognized the man that kept coming back…

However,  It wasn’t until he’d stared up at you with his intense eyes, not to mention the prominent line of a scar that went from his eyebrow down to his cheek, that you realized just who it was. It was an immediate, mutual gravitation, you were his from that very moment, and he was yours.

The fact that he was the scarred king only proved just how much power this man had. He was rich, ruling the nation, and a flick of his wrist made an entire country bow so low that their foreheads scraped the ground to worship the shadow of his footsteps.

But out of all things, you were his most treasured possession.

‘‘You know better than to address me by my first name.’‘ He stated with a deeper voice, a few octaves lower than normal. He knows exactly how to push your buttons, whether it be to annoy you, or to verbally break you down into a needy mess.

He picked up the sword idly resting by his side. It didn’t make a single noise as he unsheathed it with one hand, using his other to beckon you closer.

You obliged, a few steps brought you to stand directly in front of him, looking down at his relaxed posture with anticipation. Even though you played with him often, you never knew what to expect from him.

There was no time to react when the sword suddenly cut through the air with a whistle, slicing the fabrics of your dress in the middle, causing it to fall to your sides and simply only hang on to your shoulders like a robe. He was skilled with the blade, and one wrong move would’ve without a doubt sliced your torso as well.

But you trusted him with your life.

You held onto the clothes falling off your shoulders, attempting to pull the fabrics back up to cover your breasts, but halted your movements once you heard his hum in disapproval. Glancing up at him, he wiggled a finger back and forth, his shit eating grin widening on his lips, ‘‘Don’t hide what’s mine to look at.’‘

A small smile tugged at your lips, you could tell he was already adjusting himself in his seat from the mere anticipation of seeing your naked body. He’s seen you countless times, but every single time he made you feel like it was the first time. Passion ignited in his eyes the very second you let the fabrics slowly slide down your shoulders until they pooled by your feet, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

‘‘No bra, hm?’‘ He cocked an eyebrow, pointing the tip of his blade to the hem of your underwear before cutting it with a swift flick of his wrist, not wasting another second to reveal your most intimate parts for him, ‘‘You really walked around all day…. around people, without a bra, princess?’’

You nodded coyly, arms instinctively moving to cover your breasts once more.

‘’What did I just say about covering what’s mine?’‘

‘‘Sorry..’‘ You let your arms fall limp to your sides, breathing in deeply to keep yourself collected. But it was easier said than done when the tone of his voice made your knees feel weak.

‘‘Sorry, what? Hm? Tell me.’‘ Yoongi pushed further, his gummy smile flashing for a second, making him seem so harmless. Just like any other guy, a soft grin that made your heart soften. But it quickly fell back into his stoic expression when you didn’t reply fast enough, ‘‘Properly address me by my title.’‘

‘‘My king.’‘ You meekly whispered, feeling your slick juices slowly seep down your inner thigh. He truly had such a powerful effect on you.

‘‘Excellent, my darling. Now we shall continue.’‘ He nodded, lips pressed together in a vague smile as he carelessly tossed his sword to the side with an echoing clang, ‘‘On your knees, please your king.’‘

He loved the title, especially when it came from your lips. The power he felt when you obeyed his wishes beat any command he could ever give to any person within the nation.

You dropped to your knees as soon as he spread his legs for you to settle in between. His elbow was comfortably placed on the armrest, resting his cheek against his knuckles while his fierce gaze was fixated on your every move.

He remained silent when you looked up at him, as he had already stated what he wanted from you. And he didn’t like to repeat himself. 

You were thankful that his robe was already untied, making it easy for you to pull the fabrics to his sides, exposing his torso. Eagerly, you moved to the hem of his pants to pull them down just enough for you to be able to take his length out in your hand. You gave Yoongi another glance, he’s yet to say anything, unmoving, resting his cheek in his hand as he watched you with great interest.

But it was obvious that he wasn’t unaffected. While his face might show no signs of the way you drove him towards madness, his body couldn’t lie. The half hard length twitching in your grasp was the very proof itself.

‘‘Take it in your mouth, my darling.’‘ He urged, the stare in his eyes filled with an unsettling sense of power.

Without a word, you obeyed his command by guiding the tip of his cock to your lips, sticking out your tongue to give it a tentative lick, eyes on him for a reaction. But, the way he glared down at you proved that he was far from satisfied. A simple tongue job was not going to please your king in the slightest.

Even if he didn’t utter a word, the look he gave you was more than enough for you to know that he wasn’t in the mood for a tease. It was time to get serious. 

It was easy to fit him past your lips as he wasn’t fully hard yet, swirling your tongue around it inside of your mouth to pleasure him to the best of your abilities. You began sucking the way you knew he liked it. As the wet sounds from your saliva mixed with his precum grew louder, as did your king’s pleasure.

His cock quickly became turgid in your grasp, his girth making it almost impossible for you to take him as deep as you wanted to. You let most of his length slide out of your lips, keeping the tip inside as you swirled your tongue in the crease below the head of his cock, savoring the musky flavor of a long day as the king. Once his length was properly lubricated with your spit, you leaned in to push him deeper past your lips once more.

This time, you were adamant to take all of him, aiming to please. You pushed deeper over the veiny expanse of his shaft until your nose met his firm abdomen. Wanting to please him further, you kept going, your nose digging into his pubes as you felt the head of his length and more pushing past your throat.

In the midst of the sinful sounds sucking him off made, you swore you could hear Yoongi’s pleasure in the form of breathy grunts. This was his weakness, and you knew it well, especially with the way his cock twitched in the back of your throat followed with his deep, vibrating moans gradually growing with every suck.

You withdrew from his heavy length, clearly feeling every single inch being ripped from your throat as you did so with another lewd pop. It wasn’t easy to please him, but you were determined to. He was more than just your king. His pleasure was so much more than just pleasure, it was your life and salvation.

 You belonged to him, and he belonged to you.

‘’You’re doing so well, princess.’‘ He praised between heavy breaths, his unbothered expression threatening to crumble.

Between beleaguered breaths you forced his length down your throat again, over and over, never fully removing him from your soppy mouth. Pulling back once more to catch your breath, you wanted to make his patience of letting you breathe worth his while, lipping over the smooth head of his cock and swiping your tongue on it as if you were kissing him.

“You’ve done so well, my darling,” he praised through heavy breaths, petting the back of your head as he slides himself out. He’s close–unsure of how much longer he can last with you like this. “Need you to ride me,” he reclined a little, granting enough room for you to join him, “climb onto your throne.”

You placed your delicate hands on both sides of his seat and lifted yourself from the ground. Once you’re on your feet, your king guided you to straddle his hips and sink onto him right away with no preparation. Perhaps it’s for his own selfish needs, but he wanted to feel you wrap around him fully, paying no mind to preparing you. No matter–after the attentive service you gave him, you were already incredibly wet. He slided in with ease and stretched you for a comfortable fit. 

He’d never admit it openly, but the way you wrapped your nimble arms around the back of his neck as you circled your hips made his heart beat faster. He ached to hold you closer, so he does it with vigor. He grasped tight to your fleshy hips and assisted you, groaning deep into the crook of your neck. 

“Does this please you, my king?”

Your very words would be his undoing.

King.

My king.

You said it like a prayer to the highest power. 

“Such a pliant angel for her master,” he huffed into your ear, taking the lobe between his teeth and lathing the rosy flesh with a soft tongue, “Do you hear that? Do you hear the way your tight little pussy takes my cock so well?”

You only gasped out your moans as a worthy reply to such a filthy mouth.

“That’s right, darling.” He held your hips with bruising force and lifts his own to fuck into you rapidly from below. “Listen to those sweet wet smacks filling my chamber, echoing off the walls. Do you like being filled by your king?”

You nodded quickly, biting your lip to stifle the sultry sounds passing your lips, too reluctant to let anyone hear just how good he made you feel.

“Show me how much you like it. Let me hear you, nice and loud.”

He lifted your hips to slam down onto his lap, the skin of your ass slapping against his upper thighs. “Do it now or I’ll stop,” he taunted, knowing that’s just the words you need to give him anything he desires.

“I-I, my king–fuck,” your pitchy pants increased in volume the harder he thrusted into you.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Your thick cock feels so good inside my little cunt. Love riding you on your throne, imagining the room filled with all your loyal subjects.”

“What a filthy princess I have,” he stilled beneath you for a second, warming his length in your embrace to catch his breath, “You’d want others to see you in such a state? A sopping mess, tear-streaked, out in the open with your velvety walls crushing me?”

“Yes,” you simply replied, which seemed to be enough for him as he began humping into you as if his life depended on it. You sensed his urgency in his tensed muscles, burning hot against your bare flesh. He was desperately close and you were not far behind.

“This belongs to me,” he ordered, ramming into you, “Going to fill you until there’s no room left, going to show the whole kingdom you’re mine! Make you swollen with my heir and let every spectator know I fucked you long and hard, spoiling you for any man beside myself.”

“Cum inside me, Yoongi,” you breathed hotly against his neck, biting his pale skin and lapping the light bruises with your flattened tongue, “Claim me as your own. I want no one else.”

He pushed aside your defiant slip, referring to him by his first name. Instead, he pushed into you with a thrust so sharp he’s lodged as deep as you can bear, walls clenched around his length like a vice grip to hold him inside.

With a punishing nip to his tender neck, he groans his released out into the open, paying no mind to whoever heard his throaty moans. 

“This is mine, now and forever.” It was a promise and a proposition all in one.

“Be my wife and I will fuck you like this, right here on my throne, until the day you die.” 

It took not a second of thought to give him your answer, grinding your cunt onto his overstimulated cock to find your own euphoria. At the peak of your high, you told him what he wanted to hear.

“I accept,” you cried out your acceptance and pleasure in the same breath, “I’ll be your wife.” 

“No,” Yoongi corrected you, shoving his cum back into you as it began to dribble onto his thighs, “You’ll be my queen.’’

You crashed your lips to his and released the remainder of your pent of lust into a breathless exchange. You rocked your bodies together to ride out what’s left of your orgasms, allowing the afterglow to take hold. 

“My king,” you whispered against his lips. You pressed gentle kisses up his cheek until you place a final one over his scar, lingering for a moment, relinquishing your full devotion to every part of his being–the good and the bad.

“You have me at last.”

© sombreboy 2020. Do not edit, repost or translate.

#yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi x yn #suga smut #suga x reader #suga x you #suga x yn #yoongi royal au #bts royal au #bts smut #yoongi oneshot #king yoongi #agust d smut #yoongi scenario #yoongi imagine #suga imagine #suga scenario #dom yoongi

[bbugyu]

a dragon's kingdom

he never wanted to stop learning about you, and you never knew how much you needed him by your side.

part one | part two

wc.5009 | smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, royal au, princess!reader and knight!cheol, penelope is the best character, sex constantly, it's called the honeymoon stage, unprotected sex, lots of it, lk impreg kink?, confessions mid-coitus, oops she pukes (not during sex oh my god), food consumption, mentions of death & mental instability, lots of crying

why do i care so much about lore and names and backstory and motivation. anyways i've created an entire world if you wanna know about literally any person that is offhandedly mentioned in this fic i can give u their origin story, including he horses. this part is really story heavy but also pretty sex heavy so have fun!!! also im in love with seungcheol but what's new.

*

"this feels strange."

you hummed, pulling out a pair of pants from a drawer and holding it up to seungcheol. "what do you mean? wearing someone else's clothes?"

he shook his head no, looking around the bedroom you had brought him to with the promise of clean pants. you had gone through all the rooms, you told him, as you led him through the castle wearing a light tunic tucked into a pair of trousers. you'd collected the clothes you liked, that fit you, and brought them to the tower, but there was plenty that didn't fit your criteria, and you were pretty sure he would fit into the clothes in the third bedroom to the left of the kitchen, past the main dining hall, a room you had discovered to be a counselmen's quarters. "you've been gone for so long, but i was at the kingdom only yesterday."

you looked to him, folding the pants over your arm. "what's it like now?"

a wash of realization caught seungcheol off guard. "my god, you've missed so much."

he changed, insisting you looked the opposite direction despite the fact that you had already seen all of him only hours earlier, and you fiddled your fingers and joked about peeking, but only stole a glance when you heard him buckling a belt that had also been found in the room. you exited the couselmen's room and he helped you onto his horse, leading her down the hall in the direction you told him. you patted down calliope's black mane as she walked alongside seungcheol, listening to him describe the castle ground and all the changes that had been made in the last decade.

"the statue, in the fountain?" you nodded when he looked at you. "it's all three of you now. they added you and the queen probably six months after your disappearance."

"that doesn't sound like father."

seungcheol paused, looking up at you. "i didn't know the king personally until only a few years ago, but he's not the ruthless leader you knew him as any more. your loss changed him."

you should have been more interested in your own father, but you couldn't help the way your mind wandered to fond memories of the flowers and gardens. "are there still lilies?"

"yes, of course," he said. "one of the back gardens was planted in your honor, right by the gates. i've never seen so many colors of lilies in my life."

you were quiet for almost too long, and seungcheol looked to you, immediately noticing the tears welling up in your eyes. "does mother go there often?"

"hey, hey hey," he instantly mounted his horse behind you, wrapping his arms around you and kissing your shoulder gently. "yes. every day."

you inhaled sharply, blinking your eyes rapidly to quell the tears. "she used to love roses," you started.

"she still does," he confirmed, and you didn't even realize that you had mourned for her as though she were dead.

"there's a garden here," you continued, wiping at your eyes and rubbing the moisture away on the pants you wore, seungcheol's hands resting on your stomach as he listened to you. "it was almost dead when i found it, but i take care of the roses there. i'll show it to you later."

seungcheol nodded and pressed a kiss to your cheek, making you smile vaguely. 

"there's a stable, also," you said, sniffing your nose. "you might recognize the horses. i suppose we should bring them back with us, as well."

he faltered. "from past missions?"

"only three," you clarified, gently nudging his steed around a corner towards the kitchens. "most of them ran to the fields, but three have stayed. i've named them. one had letters carved into its armor plate, but it was damaged - i could only read valerie."

"valkyrie," seungcheol said immediately. "tan colored horse, correct? with a white diamond on her head."

you turned in his grip. "yes, exactly!"

his stomach felt heavy suddenly. "she was captain varian's steed. he trained me for years, his mission was last fall."

"i'm sorry," you said, lacing your fingers with his on your lap as you recognized his loss. you thought of a year ago, when you had found the horse. you did your best to remember who had come at that time. "though it may not be consolation, i believe he was the one penelope ran from the grounds."

seungcheol's fingers tensed between yours. "she-"

"didn't kill him," you finished. "he was a good man."

he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in relief, his forehead landing on your shoulder. "he was."

"i wasn't sure the horse was his, though i kept it in case he returned. the forests around here are deadly, but there's a village nearby, so i had hope..." you pursed your lips, thinking of how blasé you had always been about the men that failed to save you, not thinking at the time of the people they knew before they came. "i should have done more."

"you did what you could have," seungcheol reassured, his lips on your shoulder as he curled his arms tighter around you. "thank you for telling me."

you relished in the feeling of his arms around you, sighing as you let your head fall back against his shoulder. "i didn't realize how much i missed human contact."

you felt his breath on your neck when he let out a short chuckle. "i've never had it like this."

"neither have i," you said, adjusting to look him in the eye. he was only a breath away, his lips, his jaw, his neck. he had only arrived that morning, but your attachment to him could never get greater than it was now. you wondered if you glowed like he did in this moment - radiating gold in the streams of light from the afternoon sun. "i like it a lot."

a dimple showed itself on his cheek, and you smiled back at it. he kissed you gently, and your shoulders raised at the goosebumps it gave you. "i do, too," he said, running his lips across your cheek and down your neck.

"seungcheol," you sighed. "we just took a bath."

"and you smell divine," he said, smiling against your skin. you laughed at him, mostly because of his near flat out refusal to bathe with you earlier. 

"i've drawn a bath," you had said, wearing only a satin robe as you returned to the main room. "i'd be happy if you joined me."

seungcheol was laid out on your bed, blanket covering as little as it had to, an arm laid over his face as he did his best to recover his soul after you had pulled it straight out of him twice. "go ahead," he replied, fearful of what seeing your form again would do to him. "i'll make sure no one bothers you."

you laughed, crawling onto your thick mattress to bother him a bit more. "my knight in shining armor, making sure none of the inhabitants of this abandoned castle bother me while i bathe."

"anything for my princess," he said, rolling his head towards where you laid, prodding at his chest.

"anything?"

he saw the mischief in your eyes, and god, he hated how easily he fell under your intoxicating spell. but he only hated it for a moment, before you led him into your candle-lit washroom, the flames glinting off the glistening tiles of your tub and a view of the surrounding forest through sheer curtains. all he could do was sigh in resignation as you held his hand, letting the robe fall off your shoulders.

during that bath, your name sounded like a song coming from his lips, and it fell upon your blushed ears in the most delightful way. you had never even imagined what the first time hearing your name in someone else's voice in eight years would be like, but you couldn't stop replaying that moment in your mind.

"there should be apples in a basket right inside the door of the pantry," you said, pointing to a door as you lit the candles in the kitchen. seungcheol went to the door you gestured to and grabbed a few of the red fruit, biting into one. you walked over to the window and drew the curtains, letting the sun in. you usually left them open, but the rain in the evening before made you even sadder than you had already been this week. now, opening them back up, it felt like a fresh beginning. 

"i have eggs," you said, tapping your cheek, realizing you truly didn't know how to entertain guests. "lots of fruit and vegetables. there's a whole field of potatoes."

seungcheol smiled as he approached you. "whatever you want, i'm not picky. i am going to give calli some apples, though."

you nodded and smiled when he planted a kiss on your cheek, then took another bite of the apple. you watched him trot up the steps to the hall where his horse waited, and you looked around briefly before deciding to wash rice and stoke a fire.

you didn't know how to cook before you came here. you still didn't, really, just the bits of things you remembered watching the cooks in the kitchen when you and your best friend were hiding from your fathers, but it had been enough for you to learn, alone, with only a young dragon as a mentor. meat scared you still - you tried to slaughter a chicken as a seventeen year old and you were so scared of undercooking it that you had roasted it dry - but you had learned how to work with everything that popped up in the plotted fields behind the castle. with the addition of horses, you had been able to take spare jewelry you found to the village and trade for some things you needed - hay and oats, mostly, to care for them - and some things you missed, like rice and cheese. you grunted lightly as you set the heavy cast iron bowl of rice and water over a stovetop, settling the wood lid on it as seungcheol returned.

"how can i help?"

you stared at him for a moment. "you want to help?"

his eyebrows raised. "yes?"

"sorry," you said suddenly, shaking your head as you squeezed your eyes shut. "this is still weird."

he laughed, leaning against the stone wall. "take your time, princess."

"how are your knife skills?"

he pouted and shrugged. "i manage."

you laughed, walking to the pantry to retrieve some vegetables. "do you like squash? they grew like crazy this year."

you checked the rice periodically as it boiled, and you stir fried the vegetables that seungcheol chopped for you. you found another rice bowl - you had never needed more than one - and filled both with rice before frying two eggs.

"i can't believe you've been alone all this time," he said later, pulling a spoon from his mouth. "how did you learn to do all this?"

you told him about your afternoons spent in the kitchen as a child, being more of a nuisance than anything. he laughed when you told him that you had tipped over a pot of stew into the fire below, extinguishing it and creating a thick paste as the stew mixed with ash. you had gotten banished from the kitchen for a year only a few months before you were taken, but you supposed you had picked up some translatable skills during your other visits. 

he asked you about your captor, the mad king that had instilled fear in your kingdom's people with your kidnapping. you told him that king edgar was driven to madness by a cruel curse, and you met his true self only after you had arrived to his kingdom - the kingdom whose people abandoned it in fear of the dragon - where he broke down and clutched you. you reminded him of his own daughter, he had said, a beautiful princess by the name of penelope. he said he never knew what came of her, but you knew she was the one that had been cursed.

"the dragon," seungcheol started, his breath catching. no wonder you shared such a close connection with her.

you nodded. "he thought he was crazy for hearing her voice in his head. she was trying to tell him the whole time."

you were quiet when you told him that the late king's madness is what killed him, only a year after you had arrived.

it was his idea to send calliope back to the kingdom with a letter. he was positive she would make it on her own - she had made the trip several times, despite the king forbidding seungcheol from attempting to save you until now. "scouting missions," he explained when you raised an eyebrow at him, his tone unconvincing. he understood why you wished to stay, and he really could not deny the allure of living in a private castle with you for a little while, but he worried that his delayed return would make everyone assume the worst.

"i could write a letter," he said, to tell them what had happened and that you needed time to wrap some things up here, gather the things that should come back with you. "or you could, my princess, if you're hoping for a more dramatic return."

you were laying in the grass, watching the sun reflect orange against the clouds as it began to set over the horizon, using seungcheol as a pillow. you hummed, rolling to lay on your stomach and plucking a blade of grass to inspect. he watched you, and tucked your hair behind your ear as you thought. "you should write it, i think. they might come to collect us if i do. should we send her off in the morning?"

he nodded at you, his hand still on your cheek. you leaned your head into it, craving the way he held you suddenly.

there were countless days where you had lain similar to where you were now, in the grass clearing surrounded by red rose bushes, the earliest times spent sobbing until your throat was sore and your eyes swollen while you came to terms with being truly alone here. now, though, you laid with your savior and lover, and his presence alone changed the atmosphere. suddenly, these roses that were a source of painful memory for you had an air of romance to them.

"should i tell them?" you wondered aloud. "that i chose to stay all these years?"

seungcheol's thumb glided across your cheek bone. "do you think they would understand?"

your eyebrows crinkled. "you know them better than me, now," you said, ripping the grass in your fingers to pieces. "i know mother would, but i'm not sure about father."

"i think he would," he said quietly. your eyes met his. "heartbreak breeds empathy. i'm sure he would even forgive king edgar if you told him his story."

you considered that for a moment. "maybe i should write the letter, then."

with calliope in the stables, penelope flew the two of you back to the tower for the evening so that you could figure out what all to write, but it was back in that garden the next evening, laying in that same spot, where seungcheol's fingers dug into your waist as you rode him, the sky painted pink and purple behind you. your hips rolled on his, your blouse unbuttoned too low and your pants discarded somewhere they shouldn't be, and you watched his neck stretch against the green grass, a bruise from your biting the previous day showing itself directly over a bulging vein. he filled you in a way that felt new every time, and you sighed, your hands against his bare chest pushing yourself up off him, only to sink down again repeatedly.

his hands tensed on you as he groaned, trying his best to hold out for your second release, but you were making it incredibly difficult for him. you leaned back, palms on his thighs as you lifted yourself off him, and you would never forget the erotic noise that fell from his lips as you seated yourself deeply.

"princess," he groaned, his hands hungrily running down your thighs. "i won't last much longer like this."

the title read more as a pet name, and you couldn't help but clench at the need in his voice, making him choke. "god, me neither."

"please," he gasped out, eyes pleading. "please, can i-"

you nodded desperately, and it took him only seconds to sit up, crossing his legs behind you, cradling you in his arms as he rolled his hips up into you. your jaw dropped in a silent moan, and it took a moment for your vocal chords to catch up, but it wasn't long before you were making all sorts of embarrassing noises for him.

"baby," he panted, his lips pausing their work against your throat. "oh, god, i'm gonna cum."

"yes," you begged. "please. please, seungcheol."

he groaned into your neck, and you whined as you felt him shoot into you, spurring your own orgasm. your throbbing walls milked him dry, and the two of you were panting as you came down, clutching each other in a garden.

you were grateful that he didn't comment on the way you practically waddled the rest of the evening, but you never noticed the proud look on his face whenever he watched you. he did that to you, he thought. and you wanted him to do it to you again and again and again.

each morning, when seungcheol woke with your bare form draped over his side, he felt like the luckiest man on the planet, and you couldn't help but smile when you woke to his quiet and gentle ministrations against your neck, his hands warm against your skin as he pulled you closer to him.

"my darling," he muttered against your throat, adoring the way you felt in his arms, and his honey coated voice made you drunk with desire despite the sleep in your eyes. "when will i ever get enough of you?"

you giggled as you reached for him, making him moan when your hand made contact with his member. "perhaps we'll slow down in a year."

seungcheol thought that sounded okay, but when you wrapped your warm mouth around him, it suddenly sounded too soon.

there was clothing you would miss too much, you told him. the tunics you wore as comfort for years, the most beautiful dress you had ever seen, and god, the trousers. you had never been allowed to wear them before, but the convenience of fewer, less cumbersome layers proved itself again and again, especially now that you had a reason to undress more often.

"i think you look beautiful," he announced matter of factly, seated in the floor only two feet away from you, when you said offhandedly that the dresses probably suited you more. "now and always."

you smiled at him as you folded the clothing into saddlebags. "you're not so bad to look at either," you said, letting him lean over the pile of clothing to kiss you.

the more seungcheol told you about the kingdom, the more you itched to return. you missed the trees and parks surrounding the castle grounds, the cobblestone streets that you would secretly wander down, and you especially missed the way people would smile at you and ask if you were away from the castle alone.

"of course," you would reply, exchanging coin for a snack of bread despite the baker's insistence that you take it for free. "do you think the guards would have let me if they knew?"

the people were your main reason to return. you thought of the citizens that you hadn't seen in so long. you wondered how the children you remembered coming into the world had grown up. you wondered how the shops managed. you asked seungcheol about some, the ones you could remember, and he happily told you the bakery a few blocks away from the back garden gates of the castle was doing well.

you missed your family. with the promise of seeing them soon, your heart ached, even if you had felt spiteful towards them in your youth. you would never agree with everything they did - thus was the nature of an ever evolving world - but you couldn't help but remember the times they had laughed with you. while they had expectations for you, they still cared for you. they still raised you. they still loved you unconditionally.

you missed everyone you saw every day, all the other inhabitants of the castle. your cousin, whose parents died in war when he was only a child, but always had a devil may care attitude anyways. the cooks and help you bothered, but always laughed at your antics. your handmaiden, who had always kept a close eye on you, even if she never told the king about your secret excursions. you thought of your father's right hand man and closest friend, advisor kim. you thought of his son, whom you had been raised with in the castle. he had always been your best friend, your beacon of common sense, and your slightly reluctant partner in crime. you spent much of your long years away daydreaming about his laugh and hugs.

"mingyu," you said, trailing off slightly. you were sitting in the shade of a tree, watching seungcheol throw knives at a target. "is he well?"

"advisor kim?" he adjusted his posture, grunting slightly as he put a telling amount of force behind his throw. "as well as he can be, i suppose. we don't speak much."

"not advisor kim," you said, brows furrowed. "his son. he's around our age."

seungcheol looked to you, his eyes softening. "oh, princess, i'm so sorry." he paused as he kneeled before you, putting a hand to your cheek. "mingyu's father passed six years ago. he's been the king's advisor ever since."

he held you as you sobbed against him, mourning the man you had referred to as your uncle for most of your childhood, and your heart shattered as you thought of all the loss mingyu had endured.

he was smart, and it made sense to you that the king asked him to succeed his father, though you thought it a little cruel. mingyu had always been the most well read person you knew, and was the reason you had decided to make a mission of reading every book in your stone prison. he always had excitedly told you about the latest novel he'd read, or what he had learned in the political journal he'd snuck from his father's office, eyes shining and baring the wolf-like grin you adored. you never understood it back then, but now, having reread most of the books you had access to, you couldn't wait to get your hands on anything he would recommend to you when you could ask him in only a few short days.

you asked that you spend an afternoon with penelope, and seungcheol respected your time with her, despite the boredom that itched at his legs while he sat in your tower alone. he counted your paintings for the umpteenth, wondering how had you done this for so long. he decided he would go check on the horses.

you asked penelope if she truly wished to stay. "we could find someone to help you," you said. "i'm sure father has someone that can reverse the spell."

sweet princess, her warm voice rang in your ears despite her never opening her mouth. i've no family, no subjects, and no sense of humanity. 

you chewed on your cheek, knowing your wet eyes gave you away. "you have me."

she chirped, nuzzling her nose against your arm. and for your companionship all these years, i am grateful. but punishing the wicked is my duty, i have accepted my fate and so should you.

"i accept it," you said, wiping at your face with the sleeves of your dress. "but i'll remain unhappy with it."

penelope's sweet giggle was your favorite thing to hear in your mind, for you could almost imagine the woman that it once belonged to. do visit sometime. though i'd prefer if you left the knight at home.

you laughed despite the tears streaming down your face, and your hand ran over her snout. "you would like mingyu more, anyways."

there were three horses to bring back with you, but only two riders. due to this fact alone, seungcheol told you it would likely take a full day to return to the kingdom.

"maybe longer," he thought aloud, his wandering eyes finding yours as you leaned against a post in the stable. "we might have to camp a night."

"leave in the morning, arrive the next?" he nodded at your question. "that's not awful. it's hard to believe that i've been this close to you this whole time."

seungcheol agreed with you, wishing that he had gone against the king's orders and found you sooner, especially when your fingers fiddled with the collar of his shirt. "if only i had known how close i was to bliss, i would have been by your side for years."

you sighed, content, and wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek landing on his firm chest as he leaned into you.

the first time the phrase i love you came from him, he was curled over you in your bed. your hands were digging into his hair, his lips were slotted over yours, and you were trying your best to ignore the stinging in your eyes as he pushed into you again, the words hushed against your mouth.

you looked up at him, shellshocked, but he never took your silence as judgement. "i love you," he repeated. "more than i've ever loved another person."

a moan was forced from you with a combination of his words and his movements, and it jump-started your confession. "i love you, too, my knight."

his forehead rest against yours, slick with sweat, as he slowly drove himself into you. your thighs ached, partly from the repeated trips up and down the stairs as you packed, but mostly from the way he gripped the backs of them, pushing them until your knees were nearly at your shoulders. the angle let him too far into you, you thought. if anyone were to die from feeling too much pleasure, it would be you, in that moment, as seungcheol bit at your lower lip and muttered sweet nothings into your mouth.

after nearly a decade of ruling a lonely kingdom, you were so close to returning to the castle in which you were raised. you had set the chickens free from their coop, your horses were prepared for the journey, and your stomach ached at the thought. your nerves got the better of you as you emptied your stomach of its contents behind a tree.

"it's okay, my love," seungcheol said, his hands pulling your hair behind your shoulders and rubbing your back. "i'm right here."

"damn shame," you choked out, catching your breath. "i really enjoyed that breakfast."

he did his best to not laugh despite your joking tone. he stayed by your side as your head swam, and asked if the ride back should be delayed.

"no," you shook your head, accepting the water he handed you. "if we stay a day, i'll make excuses to stay forever. i'll be okay."

he recognized the defeat in your words. despite the weakened state you had woken up in, you were right. this place felt like paradise, and you never wanted it to end, but you had a kingdom waiting for you.

penelope watched over you both, laid out in the grass as you made your final preparations, and you wrapped your arms around her neck as you held back tears.

"i'll visit. i promise."

seungcheol wrung his fingers behind his back as he watched you speak with her quietly. he could never quite shake his fear of the majestic being (he had squeezed his eyes shut and clung to you whenever she had flown you two to the tower), and he had a feeling that she disliked him due to their first impression, but he knew you loved her like a sister. then, the dragon's deep firey eyes moved to meet his, her voice creeping into his mind for the first time, causing a chill to run up his spine.

protect her in my stead.

he put a hand over his heart and nodded, and when the dragon broke eye contact, he felt as though he finally understood her.

seungcheol kept a close eye on you as you rode river, a horse he couldn't remember the original name of, but that you named after the location at which you found him. he vaguely remembered the man that rode him before, but he was one that seungcheol had never liked much. every time you swayed slightly, he insisted on taking a break so you could lay down, but you waved him off, not wanting to delay your return any more than you already had.

"oh, dear seungcheol," you said, a smile on your lips. "you will be such an empathetic king one day. good thing i'll be there to make the hard decisions."

he couldn't argue - he never could. you were wise beyond your years and more observant than the people he debated against at home, most of which with whom his arguments ended in him threatening to fight. but with you, he always understood the deep thought and logic behind your words. you had a way of speaking that calmed conflict instead of fostering it, and for that reason alone, he thought you were destined to rule, and he would happy to be by your side as you did.

#YAAAAAA #i tried to make this make sense as an ending even though ive literally already written half of part 3 #anyways idk what to call this series if you have an idea lmk! #part three introduces So Many People yall just you WAIT!!!! #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen smut #choi seungcheol scenarios #choi seungcheol imagines #choi seungcheol smut #scoups scenario #scoups imagines #scoups smut #cheollie #i wrote dis

[jinned]

ornamental | namjoon | m

snippet: “So, how is this a tradition? Are we going to be making sex ornaments every Christmas?”

pairing: namjoon x female reader

genre: smut/pwp, fluff

au: domestic, married couple, slice of life, christmas time yeeyee

rating: explicit

word count: 6.6k

warnings: namjoon falls into the ocean at one point, very brief mentions of being drunk?, they’re really cute with their traditions and grossly in love lmao i hate them, implied: reader has longer hair

sexual warnings: unprotected sex, rough sex, dom/sub dynamics, sir kink, dirty talk, marking, sexual polaroids, mentions of oral (male receiving), photographing during sex, pussy slapping, Namjoon calls y/n a slut, degradation, slight body worship, orgasm denial, teasing, hair pulling, belt whipping/ass whipping, punishment receiving, a belt is used to choke y/n with, mentions of predetermined sex rules, erotic asphyxiation(EA), reader is dizzy from the EA

a/n: this is a part of the 25 days of christmas collab! collab masterlist is here! I had so much fun being a part of this! thank you so much for letting me be a part of this :)

One of the best things about being newly married is creating new traditions.

Technically, you and Namjoon have lived in the same house for two years now, but, being married makes everything feel...different. New, refreshing, something about it feels like falling in love all over again. Admittingly, you did go a little nuts on the redecorating to celebrate the new chapter in your lives. You practically bought out the entire home and furniture store within the first week of living in the new home. Namjoon definitely thought it was silly and maybe a tad bit ridiculous. Yet, he never let on. He was always right there with you, ready to give his honest and caring input. Hell, he even offered to repaint the living room that ghastly tangerine orange color. Offered.

Don’t worry. Eventually you came to your senses and opted for a more practical color: sky blue.

Sometimes you feel a little bad for Namjoon. You know you can get a little crazy and you know that your sappy ideas of love and romance were something Namjoon had to learn from. And boy, was he ever so patient and willing to adapt. Not to say you haven't adapted for him too of course.

As the seasons grew colder, the excitement between you and your new husband flourished further. When you were engaged and even dating, you would both get giddy with the first color change of fall. Because that meant Halloween was quickly approaching. And after Halloween? Thanksgiving. And after Thanksgiving is the best of them all: Christmas.

Decorations for every holiday are kept nicely in their perspective boxes, tucked carefully away in the garage which, at this point, can't even fit a car inside it anymore.

Christmas is fast approaching and although you're more than excited already, this year is going to be different. This excitement has been elevated ten fold because you and Namjoon have decided to create new Christmas traditions. And, now that you think about it, creating a new tradition every year has become its own tradition. The first Christmas you and Namjoon started dating, your tradition was to make gingerbread houses. The second year, you each bought a new Christmas themed movie and watched them on Christmas Eve. The third year, Namjoon came up with the idea to exchange favorite memories of the past year. The fourth year, you both finally broke down and found matching pajamas and finally, the fifth year, tacky Christmas card photos to send to your friends and family. Each year gains new traditions and soon you won’t have enough time in the day to do them all!

This year, you took the more mysterious route. And so did Namjoon.

When you both sat down for dinner a few days after Thanksgiving, you proposed your new Christmas tradition: personalized stockings. The idea was that you would decorate a stocking for Namjoon and fill it with his favorite things like candy, movies, and little trinkets. And he would do the same for you. Namjoon was thrilled with the idea, claiming to already have just the things he'd want to stuff your stocking with. You had thought that was that. That was the new tradition.

But, after a few more mouthfuls of food at dinner, Namjoon pitched his idea.

"I want to make personalized ornaments."

Oh, your heart fluttered right there on the spot. Namjoon has been more shy to romantic gestures, letting you lead the way. If there was something you wanted, he’d get it. If you wanted flowers every Monday, then he’d do it. But every girl knows that telling your man what you want all the time just takes the spontaneity out of things.

For him to share this comfortably and with confidence was a huge step.

Fast forward a couple of days and that's when you married the man of your dreams. On December 1st, your fairy tale came to life.

Normally, the average couple wants to have their wedding in the spring or summertime. Weather is less unpredictable, people are more able to RSVP, etc. You and Namjoon were not the average couple. Instead, you both opted for a winter wedding. The holiday season is both your favorite time of the year and being able to add your wedding anniversary into the mix? Neither of you had to really think on that one too much.

The wedding was one for the books as fluffy white snowflakes danced down to the ground, Namjoon’s rosey dimpled cheeks smiling at you as you walked down the aisle. Everyone around you blurred. He was the only thing you could see clearly.

Now fast forward a couple more weeks and it's Christmas Eve. The day you look forward to every year. The day before Christmas.

The tacky Christmas cards were sent last week, all the shopping has been done. It's time to get cozy with your husband.

A lot of magic gets put into the weeks, days, and even hours before Christmas Eve. Decorating almost becomes a part time job for you. Everything needs to be perfect.

Namjoon woke you up early to help him prep the Christmas Eve dinner which included turkey, mashed potatoes, homemade cornbread, and enough green beans to feed a village. You let Namjoon lead and became his assistant; grabbing all the utensils he needed to get that turkey perfectly prepped.

When the turkey is in the oven, there's still no time to rest. You sneak off into the spare bedroom to gather up Namjoon's presents. Pride swells deep in your stomach as you look at the collection of assorted gifts and trinkets wrapped to perfection in an array of holiday wrapping paper. This year was the year you tried extra hard to not give him any presents early or accidentally hint at what you've gotten him. Just one more night...you can last for one more night. You put them back in their hiding place, denying every cell in your body that’s telling you that one gift won’t hurt!

Maintaining your self control, you walk out of the room and rejoin your husband.

The day passes by all too quickly. Before you know it, you're bringing your empty plate to the sink, wobbling as you acclimate to your now bloated belly.

"You've outdone yourself this year, Joon," you sigh with content as you sink into the couch cushions. "I don't think I'll be able to fit into my work pants on Monday."

Namjoon chuckles from the kitchen as he rinses the plates, drying his hands with a small towel as he emerges into the living room and joins you on the couch.

"The chef enjoys your compliments." He tosses the towel towards the hallway where he will absolutely forget it's existence and slip on it later tonight. It's happened more than once now.

"The chef," you cheekily lean in closer to him, smiling wide and bright before you kiss the base of his neck, "is too good to his customer." You kiss his neck again and he sighs, pulling you closer to his body.

The sun starts to go down and the air grows crisper, pinks and oranges cascade into the living room and mingle with the abundance of Christmas lights you have hanging around the room and the tree. You bounce around with excitement as it comes time to give your husband his stocking. Per tradition, of course.

"Sit down by the fire!" You giggle, squealing away as you run into the spare bedroom to your secret stashing place, pulling out the forest green stocking you've stuffed to the brim with things for Namjoon. For a moment, you contemplate getting out the rest of his presents. Both of you decided many years ago to not pre put Christmas presents under the tree because 1. you're a terrible secret keeper and 2. you're terrible at waiting and 3. last year you got way too drunk and accidently stepped on one of the gifts you were going to give to Namjoon. Deeming you both a clumsy mess, Namjoon presented the idea of putting presents under the tree the morning of Christmas. That way you could still get your cute photos and open presents only minutes later.

You hold Namjoon's stocking behind your back, careful to not let anything slip out from the top, and sit in front of Namjoon. The fire warms your back, instantly heating up your flannel pajamas, as your knees touch Namjoon's. A sly grin is painted on his face as he too holds his arms behind his back.

"Ready?" You're practically springing up and down with excitement.

"Go!" Namjoon laughs as he pulls out what he's been hiding and you do the same. You both quickly pass each other the stockings you've made.

"Oh my god, Namjoon there's like thirty bags of Swedish Fish in here!" You hunch over as you laugh, pulling out bag after bag and pile them into your lap.

"Those better last you all week! I don't want another 'Joonie'," he clasps his hands together and widens his eyes comically, pouting his lips and raising the pitch of his voice higher, "'on your way home from woorrrkkk can you stop and get me my fishies?'"

You smack him playfully on the thigh, the sound echoing in the living room. "I don't sound like that!" You laugh along with him, but already your mouth is drooling, the sweet-savory taste of Swedish Fish already dancing on your tongue.

"Oh, cool!" Namjoon pulls something out of his stocking and holds it closer to his eyes. "I've been wanting to see this movie! Thanks, babe!"

You smile as he continues to dig through his stocking. Stockings are a very traditional part of Christmas, but you wanted to go the extra step. Not only did you hand pick the fabric of the stocking, but you also sewed it together. Deep, soft green flannel accessorized with a plush, fuzzy grey trim really didn't take that long to put together. Overall, the best part was getting that sparkly silver glitter glue and putting that big 'N' on the front. It turned out just how you wanted it, and watching Namjoon hold it delicately in his hands gives you a sense of accomplishment.

He definitely tried with your stocking, that's for sure. Namjoon also sewed together his own fabrics, which actually surprises you because, let's be real, most guys would just go out and buy a premade stocking and stick your name on the front and call it good. But Namjoon isn't most guys and he proves that to you as much as he can. Although slightly wonky, you can tell he took his time and put forth his best effort with this gift. The stitches are definitely not going the same way, but they're consistent.

Going the complete opposite of Christmas themed, Namjoon opted for a bright neon orange fabric that kinda hurts your eyes if you stare at it too long. Bright pink and yellow pom poms are scattered all around the fabric and you're lowkey afraid your husband murdered a clown to make you this.

"It's a sunset."

You look up to see Namjoon smiling at you proudly, the stocking you made him hugged loosely to his chest. His dimples are deeply set as the tips of his cheeks redden.

You stare at the stocking with a new sort of fondness and it's hard to fight the brimming tears quickly forming.

"It's beautiful, Joon. I love it." Carefully setting it aside, you lean forward and pucker your lips. Namjoon meets you halfway and you resist the urge to sigh as his lips meet yours. All too soon, he pulls away.

The next couple minutes go by leisurely as you both continue to dig up the little treasures hidden in the stockings and once you're done, Namjoon starts to fidget.

"Excited?" You tease, already surrounded by Swedish Fish candy wrappers.

Namjoon looks back and winks at you playfully. "Very."

Laughing, you wait as he pulls out his next gift. Namjoon's tradition idea to make personalized ornaments is one you can't believe you haven't thought of sooner. He reaches far back behind the Christmas tree, a few pine needles escaping their branches and planting themselves into Namjoon's pajamas.

He shakes his head, sprinkling pine needles onto the hardwood floor as he holds a loosely wrapped gift.

"Before I give you this, I want you to show me yours first."

Puzzled, you reach under the couch and fish out your own gift. "I thought the idea was whoever came up with the idea presents first?"

"Yes. But this time is different." There's something coy to the way he's talking, like he's trying to mask a smile, but his cheeks are still tinged red. He's got something more up his sleeve than just a unique Christmas ornament, that's for sure.

Tingling with curiosity, you push it aside as you hand your gift over to Namjoon. Opting for a small bag instead of wrapping paper, Namjoon flips the bag upside down and catches the ornament in his hand.

Smiling, he looks closer at it to see you've filled it with a shit ton (and you’re not exaggerating) of sparkly blue glitter. There's a tiny cutout picture of Namjoon from your vacation to the beach last year inside and his facial expression is definitely not one you can look at while keeping a straight face.

Present Namjoon bursts out laughing, nearly dropping the gift.

"Is this-? Did you-?" He can barely talk in-between aggressive ‘ha ha's’, his free hand covering up his mouth as he does so. Namjoon's deep brown eyes sparkle as he recalls the memory of how he tripped and fell into the ocean. Not from a pier or anything, no. The two of you were walking hand in hand along the beach when Namjoon tripped sideways and went shoulder first into the shallow shores, nearly taking you down with him.

At first you were concerned, but then you saw as Namjoon continued to flip backwards, going further and further out into the water. Then fear overcame you. You rushed in after him, fully prepared to save the nearly drowning fiancée of yours.

After a lifeguard and several kind pedestrians determined Namjoon was more than okay, you couldn't hold back the laughter bubbling quickly from your chest. From the ground, Namjoon laughed with you, claiming he couldn’t even walk right anymore.

Although scary in the moment, it's a memory the both of you love to laugh about.

Namjoon wipes a finger under his eyes as his laughter diminishes, sitting up to place the ornament in the center of the tree on full display for everyone to see.

"That was amazing, babe. Thank you." He sits back down and picks up what has to be your ornament resting by his knee. You can only imagine what he could have possibly placed in there. There's so many inside jokes between you two that you're having a hard time thinking of a specific one. Namjoon can be brutal when it comes to inside jokes. But he can also be really sweet...and seeing as it's your first Christmas together as a married couple, there's definitely a chance that he's put in something romantic.

As you unwrap your gift, you almost drop it as you gasp. Namjoon looks at you with a smug expression on his face and something hidden behind those deep brown eyes of his.

In your palms you hold what appears to be a handmade ornament. It's clear with black and grey glitter poured into it. And sitting on top is a picture.

But it's no ordinary picture.

You try to swallow but your throat feels alarmingly dry.

"Namjoon..." your tongue tastes funny as you say his name slowly, almost like old water that’s been sitting out in the living room for a couple of days.

He raises his eyebrows suggestively, resting his arm on his knee as he tries to appear nonchalant. "You said you wanted us to create our own traditions. Something unique to the both of us. What's more unique and special than this?"

The ornament feels hot in your hand and it's frustratingly hard to make yourself not look at it. Heat continues to flicker from your palms and grows through your arms and swallows itself down into your stomach. But it doesn't stop there. Oh no. You feel this heat down in-

"So, how is this a tradition? Are we going to be making sex ornaments every Christmas?" It's not so easy to keep your tone nice and steady. You don't know if you should laugh, be turned on, angry- oh who are you kidding? You're definitely turned on. The photo in the ornament is one worthy enough for the tumblr porn page aesthetics. In the photo it's you on your knees with Namjoon's cock halfway down your throat. Mascara tears dribble down your cheeks as they hallowed around his member.

"The tradition," Namjoon's voice is silkier than silk itself and the low grumble in his throat is enough to shoot an intense wave of arousal throughout your body, "is that we fuck and take a polaroid, and put the polaroid into a clear see through ornament to commemorate the experience."

You've gotta admit, this is sexy as fuck.

Namjoon licks his bottom lip as he tries to read your body language. He's looking sexier than ever in his bright red Christmas pajamas that you both picked out last month. Matching pajamas, another Christmas tradition you've both adopted.

Speaking of pajamas, you don't want to have yours on any longer, no matter how cute and comfortable they are.

Leaning forward slightly, you grip the base of your shirt and slowly start to pull it over your head. You hear Namjoon's breath hitch in his throat as your shirt rises over your chest, exposing your unsupported breasts to him.

Once the shirt is fully over your head, you toss it at the side wall, giving Namjoon a wink as you do so.

"For a little while, I wasn't sure how you would take this whole explicit ornament idea, but holy fuck am I glad I decided to go with it." Namjoon seems stuck in place, completely in awe as his eyes roam over your half naked body.

"Oh!" You start, scaring Namjoon slightly. "It's so cold!" You look at your husband innocently as you take one of your fingers and start rubbing your left nipple. "Look how hard my nipples are." You pretend to pout, loving how wide Namjoon's eyes are as he continues to watch you play with yourself. He looks like a man who's just won the lottery and you wouldn't be surprised if he started jumping up and down for joy.

"I think I'm gonna go back to the bedroom." You stand up and look over your shoulder, winking at him once more as you slyly shimmy your pants off, bending all the way over to free the garment off your ankles.

With an open mouth and wide eyes, Namjoon slowly lifts up the polaroid camera and snaps a picture, eyes unwavering from where he was looking.

Sauntering down the hallway, you pause to see if Namjoon is following you, but he remains frozen in place.

"Pity," you sigh, "I was hoping you would come keep me warm."

Confused, Namjoon's eyebrow raises as his eyes finally meet yours. "You really wanna snuggle? Now?"

Annoyed, you drop the act and turn towards your dumbass husband. "Namjoon, you just showed me a sexy polaroid and I just stripped in front of you. Get your ass in that bedroom and come fuck me like the beast you are."

He didn't need to be told that twice.

You squeal as he quickly stands up. His shirt and pajama pants are discarded in record speed as he runs after you. Catching up to you easily, Namjoon tackles you onto the bed, pinning his legs on either side of your hips.

And there it is, in all its glory: Namjoon's hardened cock staring you right in the eyes, hidden by the thin lining of his boxers. Despite the obvious piece of male anatomy blocking your vision, you find yourself looking up into Namjoon's eyes, your mind slipping away from the present moment. It's one of those surreal moments that only happens in the movies and you never would have imagined it could happen to you. Just a few weeks ago, you were walking down the aisle, eyes searching for that comfort in Namjoon's. Smiling goes a lot further to Namjoon than just using your mouth. When he smiles, his whole face lights up. From the lines by his eyes to the way his nose scrunches, Namjoon smiles with everything he has. It's one of those smiles that makes you want to run into his arms, bury your face in his chest, and just relax, let go of every stress and worry you've had built up.

"Hey. Where you at?" Namjoon chuckles above you.

Grinning softly, you shake your head from side to side. "Sorry. I'm here."

You look up at him and there's a moment of softness at the edges of his eyes. And then they wander down, his gaze caressing your body and that softness turns into dilated pupils, a deep, pain invoking hunger settles in. You're more than ready for him to just eat you up.

Namjoon licks his lips tauntingly before diving in towards your own lips. And like a fish taking the bait, you’re hooked. He tastes like gingerbread cookies and peppermint; a mixture you didn’t realize could be so addictive until this moment. Your tongues roll together as you move your heads from side to side, tasting each other, neither particularly fighting for dominance.

Like water, you both flow together as Namjoon guides you on top of him. Demanding to be acknowledged, Namjoon’s cock twitches angrily against your thigh, and like any sane person would do (or insane, let’s be real), you swivel your hips and grind against his growing, hardening length. Wincing beneath you, Namjoon’s face starts to redden. From the stuffiness of the room or from trenchant nature of your movements, you’re not sure.

You slow down your movements and pin Namjoon’s arms at his sides, not allowing him to touch your body at all.

“Y/n,” he warns, the veins in his forearms beginning to thicken.

Ignoring him, you continue to grind on him with stripper level intensity. It has always been a personal goal to make your husband come in his pants. Something about getting him off without even physically removing his cock from his underwear is oh so motivating.

Namjoon, on the other hand, thinks differently.

Lowly growling, he uses the strength from his thigh muscles to trap you in place, winking at you before he flips you on your side, and ultimately gaining the upper hand. Now it’s him who’s pinning your wrists on either side of your face. Holding his gaze, you try to appear unfazed by his graceful assertion of dominance, so it’s all the more frustrating that he chooses to not only disconnect your glares, but to proceed to fist his cock sloppily, hardening himself even more: he clearly does not see you as a dominant competitor today.

When Namjoon is feeling particularly more feral than normal, he runs the bedroom like a potentate; what he says goes, and you better obey quickly unless you want to be punished. Mercilessly. On some occasions, you're the good girl who listens well and obeys commands perfectly. On other days (most days), you love poking the bear just to see how far his punishments will really go.

Today is definitely one of those days.

Namjoon releases your wrist, leaning back on his knees as he wordlessly motions for you to flip over. He gets off the bed, one hand still gripping his cock tightly, as he goes to where he put the polaroid down. Now, on your hands and knees, you move your hips from side to side, slowly wiggling your ass tauntingly in front of him as he attempts to put more film into the polaroid camera. "Namjoooooon," you pout, lips pursed as you whine to your husband. "Don't you want to spank me? Put your big, strong hands all over my body. I think I need to be reminded about who I belong to." Unable to contain your pout, you smirk as Namjoon narrows his eyes. You know exactly what he's contemplating: should he reward you or punish you for your explicit neediness.

Suddenly, your head is forced up until you're looking at the ceiling and your stomach tumbles with joy.

Punishment it is.

Namjoon releases your ponytail, your head collapsing back between your arms that are still holding up your body. Your heart races as you try to catch your breath, eagerly anticipating Namjoon's next move.

The bed creaks as Namjoon goes and opens the closet door. Sneaking a peek over your shoulder, you see him opening up his sock drawer. Momentarily confused, it all makes sense when he pulls out his black leather belt.

Instantly, chills shiver their way through your body. Yes, you wanted him to spank you. But you meant with his hands.

Namjoon holds the belt between both hands as he turns back to you, snapping the leather against itself as he tests the product before then slapping it across his own palm. A sinister smile paints that gorgeous face of his and you've never been happier to be in love with an actual demon.

Clasping your hands together tightly, you brace for what's to come, knowing you're going to orgasm so hard later.

"Count," Namjoon commands and without a moment's hesitation, you hear the crack of the belt on your skin before you feel the stinging hot pain. Gasping loudly, all you can think about is how you can't wait to see the bruised redness on your ass afterwards. Something about having markings leftover from any sexcapade leaves you feeling accomplished and slightly dirty.

"I said count," he grits through his teeth, but he waits until he hears you to continue.

"One!" You squeeze your eyes tightly and wait for the second hit.

"Two!" You cry. Wetness oozes from between your legs and you're wondering how many Namjoon is going to administer. You just want his cock in you already. Almost like a stomach growling when delicious food is near, that's how you feel right now. But it isn't food that will satisfy this hunger.

Five more whips later and you start to shake at your elbows, grasping the sheets tightly between your fingers and biting down on the pillow in front of you. The sting on your ass feels so good and you're honestly surprised that last smack didn't send you straight into an orgasm. Namjoon knows his way around that belt, hitting each spot perfectly and with enough force where it doesn't necessarily hurt. It's all pleasure.

Namjoon discards the belt and takes hold of your ponytail, wrapping your hair around his knuckles before pulling. It's a little rougher than usual, tears brimming your eyes as you wince. To anyone else, they probably wouldn't have been able to handle the neck cramp, or the stinging on your scalp. But it only turns you on more. You bite your bottom lip as he gives your ponytail another yank, this time to the side so you're able to see him out of your peripheral. It's animalistic how he looks at you; a low growl festering deep within his throat, his mouth practically watering as he looks at you.

"So beautiful," he mutters as he hand grips your hair tighter. His other hand moves over the curvature of your ass, the lightness of his touch giving you goosebumps. Arousal is about to start dripping out of you any second. Namjoon knows how sensitive you are with your senses. He gives your ass a hard squeeze before resuming his light touches.

"Are you ready, baby?" he whispers fondly from behind you. His hand is hovering over your clit, you can sense it.

"Yes, sir."

With the sound of his respected name, Namjoon slaps your cunt harshly with approval, making you cry out in pain and surprise. Focusing all your energy on keeping yourself upright, you can’t help but tremble more as you grip the sheets tighter and tighter. You can feel his hand take away some of your slick as he pulls away from you. Hiding your face in the crook of your arm, you wait for your punishment for being too turned on so quickly.

You chance a look behind you, his grip on your hair loosening enough for it to tumble away from his fingers. He's staring at his other hand, your arousal glimmering in the faint room light, like small spider webs woven between his fingers. Namjoon's thick eyebrows furrow as he continues to contemplate the slickness on his hand. You swallow hard, afraid to speak up.

Wordlessly, Namjoon wipes the remanence of your juices onto his thighs, his jaw set tightly as his mouth forms a thin line.

“Sir?” You croak out, “What’s wrong?”

There’s a moments pause before he finally speaks.

“Only sluts get that wet that quickly.”

You turn back to face the headboard, hiding your gleeful smile as his authoritative tone vibrates throughout your body. It’s been a while since he’s called you a slut in the bedroom. In fact, if you recall correctly, the last time he called you a slut was after he took that polaroid of you a few months ago. The same polaroid that he put in his Christmas ornament.

Dripping more than a loose faucet, all you want is for him to plug you up, to fill you completely.

Which he easily complies to.

Tingling with anticipation, you let out a soft moan as you feel Namjoon slide the tip of his cock up and down your folds. You shiver as if there’s a slight chill in the room, but really, you feel burning hot.

"Are you a good girl? Hmm? A good little slut?" He asks from behind you, hips unmoving as he rests his member deep within your cunt.

"I'm a very good girl, sir."

You fight every urge, every nerve in your body that screams to move, to get some sort of friction going from your body to his. But, like you said, you're a good girl. So, you grip tightly to whatever self control you have left.

"But not a good slut?" He massages the mounds of your ass, delicately running his fingers across your skin. Goosebumps spread across your body from the sensational touch as he continues his motions almost thoughtlessly.

So he's playing a game, you decide. Always trying to exercise that brain of his no matter the setting, that's Namjoon for ya.

"Oh, I'm the worst slut, sir," you play along, "I feel so bad for you, stuck with a broken play thing like me." You jut out your bottom lip to help enunciate the deep pout you're going for.

Namjoon growls in response, hips twitching as he refrains from moving still.

"What's wrong?" You consciously clench around him. "Having a hard time...focusing?" You roll your hips backwards, milking out a delicious moan from your husband’s lips. His hands grip your ass so tight that you wince. But it's totally worth it.

"Only," he pants, "I can talk about you like that."

Grabbing the belt from the side of the bed, he quickly and flawlessly wraps the leather around your throat, just below your chin and above your windpipe. Namjoon pulls back, momentarily cutting off your airways. He loosens it after counting to ten, a rule you both placed years ago when it comes to rough choking like this. The restricted air leaves you feeling lightheaded in all the best ways. It's a form of high unexplainable and unattainable through any other forms. And right when Namjoon pulls himself out just to slam back inside of you, he pulls on the belt once again so that when his cock hits the back of your walls you're more than sky high.

Thrusting slow, Namjoon works up a steady momentum that includes restricting your breath every so often. In a way, it's almost like orgasm denial every time he loosens his grip and lets you breathe properly again.

"Now," Namjoon's breath is raggedy after continuing to maintain his flawless control over his urges to pound you through the mattress, "Are you a good slut or a bad slut?"

"I'm a good slut, sir!" Your voice is faint against the belt. Namjoon has loosened his hold on it so that you could speak without too much struggle. But he quickly tightens it again, your eyes rolling backwards as he hits your sensitive spot over and over again. Namjoon guides your head back until you feel his chest against your back. His breath his hot against your ear as he growls through gritted teeth, his thrusts becoming sloppy and inconsistent.

"You're mine."

Suddenly, the belt is tossed aside and Namjoon flips you onto your back. Air seems to be nowhere near your lungs as you gasp, your husband moving too quickly for your lightheaded brain to process.

He spreads your legs open, getting a clear look at your core. Cock twitching, Namjoon moans and fists himself as he stares at your naked body.

"It is so hard to keep my self control when you're around."

"I'm around all the time," you reply, watching him closely as he continues to attend to his weeping red member.

"That's the problem."

Nothing more needs to be said. He pounces like a predator on its prey. His hands grip your shoulders, using them as leverage as he buries his cock between your legs. It happens so fast you barely have time to appreciate the feeling of his head pushing past your walls, stretching you so perfectly it leaves you breathless.

Namjoon grips your thighs tightly as he thrusts deeper and deeper into you. Nails raking against your skin leaves hot burning lines that make you gasp and moan. Whenever he shifts his weight on your thighs, it’s like a direct tingling line of sensation that shoots right to your core.

Namjoon’s bangs stick to his forehead with sweat, little dewdrops threatening to fall over your chest as he continues to thrust in and out of you. The rawness of his cock against you is gone, you’re so wet that he easily slides in and out of you. When you get this wet, as in...wetter than a fucking ocean, Namjoon likes to play a little game. He’ll slow down his thrusts, agonizingly inching his cock out of your hole and waits a few moments before pushing himself back in, bottoming out and slowly pressing against your sweet spots. Part of you thinks he does it to control the intensity of your flow, but the other part of you is nearly certain that he does it because he’s actually Satan himself and gets off on torturing you to no end.

And that's exactly what he starts to do.

Protesting will get you nowhere, you've learned that over the years of being with him sexually. Namjoon's self control is out of this world, even when he has his moments of weakness. You swear that man could go months without an orgasm if it meant teasing you into insanity.

"No!" It doesn't hurt to try to protest every now and then does it? "Namjoon please. No teasing. Fuck me like you mean it!"

Wordlessly, Namjoon picks up the polaroid camera from the side of the bed, his cock still buried deep inside you. "Let's make some magic, baby."

Pulling out of you slightly, Namjoon brings the camera to one of his eyes, squeezing the other eye tightly shut as he focuses the camera down at your private areas. Bright light flashes in the dimly lit room without warning, dazing you as you hear the whir of the camera spitting out the image it just captured. Dark colors litter your vision every time you blink, your eyes not adjusting as quickly as you would hope.

Carelessly, Namjoon tosses the polaroid to the left of the bed and removes his cock completely from your aching pussy.

"Turn around," he commands. "No, not like that." He groans as you position yourself on your hands and knees. You turn to look at him and ask what he means, but his large hand pushes the back of your head down until your cheek is squished against a pillow. Namjoon grabs your hips roughly, adjusting them back until your ass is as high up in the air as possible.

"Perfect," he mumbles. The tip of his cock greets your folds once again. They remain teasingly on your lips. Light flashes again followed by the loud whir. "Your ass looks amazing in this."

"You can't even see the photo yet." Grumbling against the pillow, you try to distract yourself from the ever growing ache within your cunt. This slow, unintentional teasing can only go on for so long.

"I know." You can hear the smile in his voice as he lovingly pets your right ass cheek. As you're about to reply, your walls are being stretched once again. Snarky reply forgotten, you moan out his name as he bottoms out inside you, not even wasting a moment before he pulls out and slams back inside.

Namjoon continues to snap his hips back and forth against you, the back of your thighs tingling with each thrust.

"Fuck!" he yells out, his pace quickening. "You feel so fucking good! I should have gotten a picture with that belt around your throat!"

You whimper your response, enjoying his cock too much to even form words.

"You're right," Namjoon's smirk is visible even in the dimly lit light. "We'll just have to do it next time."

The polaroid light flashes right as your orgasm takes over your body. Eyes rolled back, mouth wide open, it's a photo worthy enough to be the star on the Christmas tree. There might even be a hint of drool on your chin.

Before thoughts can even begin to form in your head, Namjoon's hands are on your waist once again, flipping you onto your back. The camera is in one hand as he aggressively pleasures himself to completion. White hot come paints your skin from the divots of your collar bone all the way down to your hip bones.

Panting loudly, Namjoon steadies himself as he stands over you, shaking hands raise up the camera, pointing directly at your cum covered self.

"Beautiful." Breathlessly, the picture is taken and your husband lays down besides you.

"I love our little sexmas tree." You smile brightly as you lean into Namjoon's arms as you both gaze at your now very not-safe-for-work Christmas tree, decorated entirely with the new polaroid photos you took less than an hour ago.

"Me too." He squeezes you tightly before freezing up. "We should probably take them down before you're parents come over tomorrow."

Clinging to Namjoon as you laugh, for a moment it feels like time slows. Your laugh sounds far away and you feel your body move as if it were underwater. It isn't a scary or unsettling feeling, no. In this moment you feel on top of the world. No one can knock you down.

All too quickly, things go back to normal.

"God, I would hate to see that reaction. But for now, let's leave them up."

Namjoon leans down and kisses you lightly on your left temple, guiding you back to the bedroom to get some well earned sleep.

© do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. Jinitude 12/02/19

𝓂𝒶𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

#Namjoon smut #bangtanarmynet #thekimlinenet #ficswithluv #bangtanhq #moonchildnet #hyunglinenetwork #thekpopnet #magicshopnet #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #btswritingcafe #kwordsmiths #kim namjoon #bts #kim Namjoon smut #bts smut #Namjoon x you #Namjoon x reader #bts x you #bts x reader #Namjoon fluff #husband namjoon #Namjoon x female reader #Namjoon cute #Namjoon sexy #dom joon #dom namjoon

[mandadoration]

spoils go to the winner

summary: You’re one of the first friendly faces that Cara Dune sees when she first arrives on Sorgan after her early retirement, and now she thinks that this isn’t so bad, especially when you’re so pliant under her fingers.

word count: 3, 971

pairing: cara dune x reader

Warnings: smut, choking, fingering, praise kink, oral sex, overall debauchery, canon-typical violence

a/n: uhhh hehe enjoy 

Read this on AO3

Sorgan was not the most attractive of places, especially when compared to Cara’s home planet of Alderaan. It was too humid in the summer and fall months, and winters were short, villages and towns were spread far apart, and if you wanted any luxury items, you would have to track someone down who was willing to bring supplies to you. The ground was in an almost perpetual state of too-soft, tracking mud wherever you would go. But Alderaan was no more, and the New Republic had designated her to peacekeeping and riot control. That was definitely not what she has signed up for, so she left in search of something else. She dabbled in mercenary work, but soon realized it was just not her thing.

So she would have to settle for Sorgan. 

It wasn’t all bad, she supposes. Nobody thought twice about Sorgan. It was severely underdeveloped and villages and towns were spread all over the planet with a bare skeleton of a proper government. It would be easy to implement herself into daily life. Daily life just manifested itself into a local fighting ring at the tavern.

“C’mon,” the Zabrak growls. He makes an inviting motion with his hands, baring his teeth as they circle each other. He had been the reigning champion in this little town for quite a while, it seems like, seeing as how the villagers cheer for him and how they had bet on his win over her. The locals look at her with some disdain or with distrust, unsure of this new person that had dropped in. That was fine because Cara was determined in proving them wrong. 

Cara uses the harness keeping them together to tug the Zabrak forward. Using that moment of him stumbling, she punches him, and her knuckles catch on the brow ridge. Unfortunately, he lashes out blindly at the same time, and he catches her jaw as he reels back. Cara’s teeth clack together uncomfortably, and she’s dragged forward as the Zabrak backs up. He’s trying to buy time as he tries to gather his thoughts and think past the pain and where she spots a trickle of blood get in his eye. Cara dashes forward, shoving him hard and hooking her feet under his ankles before he can react, and he goes down hard, hitting his head against the table behind him. Both he and Cara freezes when one of his horns snap off against the edge, eyes following its path until it rolls to a stop next to her feet. 

The Zabrak howls, and lunges for her, but he’s telegraphed the move and she just moves out of the way, watching with disinterest as veins start popping out against his skin. Cara vaguely recalls how prideful Zabraks are of their horns. At this point, he’s not only fighting to win, but to exact revenge for his wounded pride. But in his rage, it’s easy to take him down. Cara merely blocks a sidekick, digging her nails into his leg and yanking him forward, slamming her elbow into his gut, following him all the way down and imagines herself trying to break through and hit the ground. The Zabrak goes down easily, the fight literally being beaten out of him as she feels the soft snap more than hears it, and he lays there groaning as the tavern goes silent at her victory. She strolls over to the table where the credits are, and collects them all. 

Cara sits down, winded as she feels the tender spot on her jaw and the ache in her hands. Nothing she can’t handle, and with how she’s counting her winnings, she could indulge in a bacta shot if she really wanted. But the mark of a fight is something she prides herself in. Besides, the Zabrak was looking much worse for wear. A few of his friends, she assumes, is giving him a pep talk as the Zabrak glares at her from across the room with a venomous glare. For a moment, Cara thinks that maybe the Zabrak will come after her at some point during the night, and then Cara is reminded that she needs to find a place to stay before he could try and track her down. A figure blocks her view and a cup of some shimmering blue drink is placed in front of her. Cara looks up, intent on questioning, and comes face to face with a warm, inviting smile of you. Her mouth goes dry and all thoughts of the Zabrak are wiped from her mind.

“Spotchka for the winner?” you offer softly. 

You look absolutely wonderful, with the light of the setting sun framing your silhouette in a halo-like glow. Wisps of hair escape from your carefully swept-up hairdo, sticking to your face and neck as a light sheen of sweat covers your body from the humid heat. To try and combat the temperature, she sees that your blouse is sinfully sheer and open at the top, where her eyes linger as she follows your breathing. Your sleeves are rolled up to your elbows, but she wishes that she could see more. Somehow, you make the awkward frock look good. Your eyes are sparkling, devoid of distrust or malice she’s seen in the other villagers, and Cara is sure you’re drinking her appearance in just as much as she is. If anything, there’s wonder and admiration in your heated gaze. And ever elegant, Carasythia Dune asks:

“What’s spotchka?”

Your laugh makes Cara uncharacteristically flush, face hot as your eyes crinkle. “Spotchka is a local drink on Sorgan. It’s good,” you insist, pushing the cup closer to her. You look around for your boss before you take a seat across from her, leaning forward eagerly. “You’re new, aren’t you?” you ask, voice low. There’s a local accent playing on your lips. “I’ve never seen you here before. Where are you from?” Your face shows such reverence that Cara can’t help but find herself wanting to answer every single one of your questions despite the fact she had come to Sorgan to forget most of her past. 

“I worked with the Rebellion,” she says automatically, and your eyes widen, flickering to the shock trooper tattoo across her bicep.

“Wow,” you breathe. You gnaw on your bottom lip and Cara looks down to watch. Her grin is wolfish as she flicks her eyes back to yours. It’s clear from your curiosity that interesting folks didn’t come through here often, if at all. “Did you arrive today?” She nods. “How long… How long will you be staying?” you ask, leaning on your hand. A drop of sweat disappears into your cleavage.

“As long as you want me to,” Cara finds herself saying, and she preens at how you blush. The redness crawls from the tip of your ears all the way down your neck, and Cara knows she’s still got it. She wouldn’t say that she was a flirt when she was in the Rebellion, but she won’t deny that she had taken pleasure in knowing that there were plenty of individuals vying for her attention. Now, she was giving it to you with the barest of encouragement. “I’m actually looking for a place to stay. You have any recommendations?” You blink.

“There’s an inn a few buildings down,” you tell her, pointing in some direction that Cara doesn’t care to remember. “It’s a modest place, but I know the owner. I could get you a room if you would like.”

“That would be great,” Cara says. Maybe Sorgan wasn’t so bad. If you were here, of course, she could bear to stay for a few months while she got her credits and figured out a solid plan. Wooing you would just be a bonus. “What’s your name?” You give her that wonderful smile again, telling it to her, and Cara repeats it, trying out how it feels in her mouth. “I’m Cara.” She reaches a hand towards yours where it’s lying against the wooden table, and she sees you open your mouth to say something when--

A customer waves their hand and calls you over, interrupting whatever you were going to say. You stand up, and Cara immediately misses your closeness and realizes how close she actually was, having instinctively leaned in while you were talking. “How much do I owe you for the spotchka?” she asks, offering up some amount of credits. It’s definitely more than she actually owes you for a simple mug of spotchka. You push them back to her.

“On the house,” you murmur, and you linger your touch on hers for longer than necessary, feeling how coarse and rough her hands are compared to yours. “For the winner of the match.” You wink, flashing her a bright smile as you turn away to serve more customers.

Cara will win a million matches if it means she gets to see that smile again. 

--

True to your word, there’s a room already waiting for her when she finishes the spotchka and heads over with her winnings. She settles down and puts what little things she has in the corner as she surveys her surroundings. There’s a bed pushed up against the wall on one side, two small nightstands flanking either side. A desk and chair is facing the only window opposite of the door, and a small wardrobe sits next to the door to a bath. Like you had said, modest. She pulls off her armor and strips down to her tunic and pants. At least the bed is comfortable, she thinks as she flops down on it. When she does, a dull pain throbs in her side. Cara has little faith in the medical prowess of such a small town, so she starts thinking of who could bring in medical supplies for her when a knock sounds at the door. Probably the owner, or maybe even the Zabrak she had beaten today. She thinks that maybe if she’s quiet enough, they’ll leave her alone, but scrambles up when she hears your voice.

“Cara? I brought some things for- Oh, hello,” you interrupt yourself, surprised when the door swings open. You’re holding rags and a bowl of water, and there’s a jar tucked under your arm. “Hope I’m not intruding.”

“No, never,” Cara says. She moves to the side and sweeps an arm out. “Come in.” You put your supplies on the desk and pull out the chair, moving it so that it faces the bed. “What brings you here?” You motion for her to sit down. 

“You have a nasty bruise,” you say, shrugging as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Thought I would help you.” Cara laughs softly and takes a seat on the bed obediently. 

“You help out all the winners?” she asks. You shake your head as you pick up a rag and dip it in the warm water, tilting her head up so that you can wipe away the sweat and grime on her face. It’s nice. Your touch is gentle as you focus on the dirt smudged across her nose, dragging the rag down to sweep across the purpling bruise on her jaw. 

“No,” you murmur. “Just you.” 

“Why’s that?” 

You don’t grace her with an answer, just a quiet hum, as you turn around to drop the rag on the table and pick up the jar. Inside, there’s some sort of pale green cream that you take a dollop of and spread over the bruise. It tingles for a moment, but then dissolves into a blissfully cooling feeling as an herbal smell wafts up to her nose. You rub it in for a few moments before pulling away to wipe your hands on the rag. You come back and tilt her head again to see it better in the fading light. 

“Are you gonna kiss it better?” Cara asks, breaking the silence, and although she has a joking tone, she wouldn’t mind if you did. You sweep a thumb over her cheek, a tender look on your face.

“You ask a lot of questions, Cara Dune,” you note coquettishly. She laughs, but the sound is quickly swallowed by your mouth capturing hers in a searing kiss. Cara immediately puts her hands on your waist, bringing you down so that you sit in her lap. Your mouth is wonderfully soft and pliant, willing and open when she prods her tongue in you. She digs her fingers into your hips, ears perking up when she hears you let out a small whimper, grinding down into her thigh. You thread your fingers through her hair, pulling back with a dazed look in your eyes as your chest heaves with each breath.

“Questions, hm?” she mutters, pressing fleeting kisses against your neck. “If I remember, you were the one asking the question earlier today.” You let out a breathy laugh that melts into a moan when she nibbles at a soft spot under your ear. You untangle your fingers from her hair to fully pull away. Cara lets you go with a final squeeze, disappointed but tries to mask it with a look of want. You must’ve seen it anyways because you smile coyly at her as you start untying the bodice of your frock with deft fingers. You had no intention of leaving.

“Lay back,” you tell her softly, slipping the straps off of your shoulders as you let it pool around your feet, leaving you in your sheer blouse and thin leggings. You kick your boots off, following Cara up the bed as she leans back against the pillows and pulling pins out of your hair to let it flow over your shoulders. Cara grabs the back of your neck and brings you down to kiss you again, tucking the hair curtaining your face behind your ears. She’s thankful that the nights on Sorgan are cooler than the days because she’s starting to sweat from how her body burns up. Still trapping you in a kiss, she trails her hands down your body, kneading your breasts for a short moment before she’s pulling at the hem of your blouse. Unfortunately, you have to pull away to take off your top, but you do so as fast as you can so that you can press a kiss to her jaw, the side without the bruise. As you do, Cara slides your leggings over the swell of your ass. She doesn’t bother with taking it off all the way before she cups her hand around your mound over your panties. 

The moan you let out is just sinful. 

You grind into her hand, sighing as you tuck your face into the crook of her neck. “Please,” you muffled voice says. 

“Please what?” Cara asks teasingly. 

“Touch me.”

“I am touching you,” she says, and digs the palm of her hand into your clit. You keen, high and whiny as you pull her hand away so that you can shimmy out of your panties and pull them and your leggings off, flinging them into the darkness of the room. As much as Cara wants to continue teasing you, one look in the dim light at your blown pupils and bruised lips convinces her to bring her fingers back to your clit. A ragged breath forces itself out of your lungs as she rubs it, bringing her other hand to play with your nipples, rolling the bud between her thumb and forefinger. The angle is awkward as you’re on top, so Cara flips you over, somehow managing not to roll the both of you out of the bed as you let out a surprised gasp. 

Your hair splays under your like a halo, and Cara swears that angels must be real with how etheral you look. She resumes rolling and tugging at your nipples as she slips two of her fingers down to your wetness, spreading it all over your pussy as she grins at the hitch in your breath. She slips two fingers in, pumping it in and out languidly and teasing your clit with her thumb as you writhe under her ministrations. “That’s it,” she whispers, dragging her hand from your breast, up your neck where her rough hands wrap around your throat. Your skin is slick with sweat, and you let out a soft swear in a language she doesn’t know when she curls her fingers in you. Your hand comes up to grasp her wrist as the other one fists the sheets under you. “You’re doing so good, baby.” You whimper from the praise, and Cara slips another finger in you. Her pace quickens, rubbing in fast, tight circles as she keeps hitting that beautiful spot in you, marvelling at how you clench around her fingers. With how you’re moaning, you’re close. “You gonna come?” she pants. Cara tightens her grip around your throat, her wolfish grin widening when she can feel your racing pulse under her hand. “You gonna come for me?” Tears are glistening in your eyes as you nod desperately. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you choke out, hips bucking up as that tight coil in your winds tighter and tighter. “Please, Cara I-- Maker I’m so close--” Cara curls her fingers one last time, pressing your clit as she sucks a hickey right above your left breast as she commands you to cum. White explodes behind your eyelids as you groan in pure pleasure, digging your nails into her wrist as your eyes roll to the back of your head, letting a few tears slip through from the feeling of it all. She lets you ride it out, slowing down the pumping of her fingers as you start to wind down. Her hand releases its grip from your throat. You grab the hand that was just in your pussy, bringing up to your lips and sucking on her fingers, still wet from your cum as you moan around them. 

“Holy shit,” she breathes. You look up at her through tear soaked lashes as you pop her fingers of your mouth. You lay there staring up at her with those doe eyes, chest heaving from the aftershocks, and Cara knows she’s not done with you yet. She pulls away from you light grip and slides down the bed, hooking her arms around your thighs as she drags you down until your hips are hanging off the edge, putting your legs over her incredibly built shoulders. You laugh, and manage to snag a pillow before she takes you too far, tucking it behind your head. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you say, threading your hand through her hair again. “You’re very beautiful,” you murmur, almost absentmindedly. Cara’s body burns hotter at your words, and she dives right in at the apex of your thighs without any preamble, lapping at your dripping pussy as moans tears themselves out of your mouth. “Oh, stars--” Your toes are curling when she licks a broad stripe up, tugging at her hair. 

“You’re so sweet,” she says. Then a pause. “Literally and figuratively,” she adds, and goes right back to devouring you eagerly. It was almost too much. You had barely any time to rest from your last orgasm, and here Cara was, bringing you closer to that precipice almost immediately. You take your fingers out of her hair to adjust the pillow behind you so that you can somewhat prop yourself up, and you let out another gush of wetness that Cara automatically laps up when you see her other hand has disappeared into her pants, playing with herself as she eats you out. With that image seared into your mind, and with how Cara was playing with your clit with her tongue, eyes dark with lust, it takes no time at all for you cum again, toes curling as you grasp at the sheets underneath you, the breath being knocked out of you.

Cara pauses for a brief moment to suck a mark into your inner thigh. You can see that her face is glistening all the way down her chin, and you curl up to kiss her to the best of your abilities, moaning again at the taste of yourself in her mouth. Cara surges up, pinning you against the bed as the hand in her pants move faster. Her other hand stays strong on your shoulder as she slips her tongue into your warm mouth. You whimper, running your hands over her, sneaking your hands up her shirt to scratch down her back. Cara growls at the action. She sits up, nearly ripping her pants off as she pushes it down her hips. This time, as she goes to down to chase after her own orgasm, you slip your hand down with it, rubbing that tight bundle of nerves as Cara stretches herself with her own fingers. “You’re so sweet,” she gasps, pressing open-mouthed kisses, wet and wanting. “Sweet, sweet girl, so nice to me, so willing--” She grunts, switching to the other side to plant more kisses. “You’d let me do anything, hm?” Even as you’re spent, legs still twitching, you feel more arousal build up. 

“Cara,” you moan. 

“Yes,” she hisses. “Say my name again, say it- say it again.” You call her again, a little more urgently, voice pitches upwards as you speed up until finally she cums, collapsing on you and biting down harshly at the junction of your shoulder as you cry out. 

You lay there, panting as you lazily mouth at her neck, tasting the salt of her skin as you rub her back affectionately and pull your hand out from where it was trapped between your bodies. Sleep tugs at you, but you sigh and gently nudge her. “We have to clean up,” you say. Waking up still gross and sweaty for a Sorgan summer did not sound nice. Your voice is rough, and you’re sure you’ll have hand-shaped bruises and a variety of other colorful marks on you when the day breaks. “Would you like me to draw a bath?”

“Only if you’ll come with me,” she murmurs. Cara props herself on her elbows to look at you, at how you were glowing and still flush from the orgasms she had drawn from you. She frowns as she runs a deft finger over where she hid bitten you. “Sorry about that.” You smile and pull her in for a fleeting kiss before you wiggle out from under her. 

“I like it,” you say quickly, and pad to the refresher, trying to ignore the self-satisfied smirk Cara has when your wobbly legs almost give out from under you. You feel wonderfully sore, and when you catch yourself in the reflection of the water, you see exactly how ruined you look. Your lips are red from bruising kisses, eyes still shiny with tears left unshed, and your hair is an absolute mess. Your neck looks like a battlefield, dark marks forming all the way down to your breasts and the one on your inner thigh. You run a finger over the deepest, darkest one that Cara had put on you. It’s sore as you press into it, but it makes you preen.

As the water heats up, you feel warm hands sliding around your waist, Cara sweeping your hair away and pecking kisses up the back of your neck. You stifle a laugh. “You are insatiable,” you say, but a warm feeling starts bubbling in your belly again. You slip from her grasp and go into the water to buy some time, and Cara follows straight after. She pulls your back flush against her bare chest as her hands start dancing downwards. 

“You think you got one more in you?” she husks in your ear. You grin.

“Anything for the winner.”

#the mandalorian #cara dune #cara dune x reader #cara dune x you #cara dune reader #carasynthia dune #my writing #smut #cara dune imagine #will this flop bc theres no demand for cara readers? #probably

[catgirlthecrazy]

To Love and To Cherish

After being extremely mean to Jon and Martin in my last fic, I had to make it up to them with 2,000 words of domestic softness (and a side helping of character development)

AO3

Summary: What if the Scottish Honeymoon lasted through retirement? 

***

Martin was washing dishes when the fog rolled in. He didn't notice it right away. He was bent over the kitchen sink and didn't see much beyond the plates and soapy water. It wasn't until Martin straightened to work a kink out of his back that he saw the soft white curtains of vapor drifting across the yard. And Jon was down in the village at the moment, and hadn't said when he planned to come home.

When he'd first come to Scotland for years ago, that had been enough to send him into a panic attack. Slumped against the kitchen counter, knees hugged to his chest, sweating and struggling to breathe for god knew how long until Jon came home and found him like that. He'd held Martin's hand, softly rubbing circles in his palm. Come on Martin, breathe with me, he'd said, voice soft and steady as a highland cow. Breathe in to a count of ten. 

Decades had passed since then. Somewhat less since his last real panic attack. Martin knew now, with a rock solid certainty, that Jon would come back. He knew he had friends waiting for him.

Still. Martin Blackwood might not be Lonely anymore, but that didn't mean the scars couldn't ache in the wrong weather. He stared out the window into the fog, hands still dripping with suds. He could remember the day when that fog had filled his eyes and lungs and heart and mind. When he'd been certain that no one in the world cared if he lived or died, and that he would spend the rest of eternity with that numbing fog. Without even the mercy of death to look forward to.

Martin closed his eyes and breathed in. One. Two. He thought of Sophie and Rasheed, who ran the chemist's shop down in the village and invited them to dinner every once a week. Three. Four. Their children, Maryam and Noah, who Martin had known since they came home from the hospital and were now graduated from university. Five. Six. Robin and Daniel, who ran the pub that Jon and Martin went to every Wednesday, and had done so ever since taking it over from Robin's father ten years ago. Seven. Eight. Georgie and Melanie, who hosted Christmas every year down in London. Nine. Ten. Daisy and Basira, who came up to visit for two weeks every summer. Now hold.

Jon. Who woke up beside him every morning. Who could go on and on about the strangest things. Whose brusque demeanor hid a surprising depth of kindness that still delighted Martin even to this day. Who'd plunged himself into that cold and numbing fog to save Martin, and pulled him out again with love. Who'd given up his own sight for a life with Martin, away from eyes and fear. Martin breathed out to another count of ten. He opened his eyes, and the fog was just fog. Just water vapor brought about by a closeness of air temperature and dew point. He went back to washing dishes.

Some time later, something meowed at his feet. Martin looked down and smiled. "Hello Percy," he said to the regal ball of fluff twining itself around his ankles. Percy looked up and meowed again.

"Don't give me that. It's not dinner time for another hour."

Percy gave him a withering look and meowed again, as if to say You are most certainly mistaken. Your clocks must be running slow.

"I think you'll find it's your clock that needs winding, not mine."

Another plaintive meow. You must make an exception! Can you not see how I am malnourished and dying?

"Not falling for that one either."

Percy gave him a look of pure pleading, and mewed.

"That won't work on me. Jon's the cat person, not me."

Percy's expression grew more plaintive. He mewed pitifully. Martin turned back to his dishwashing before he could give into weakness.

Percy's full name was Sergeant Major Percival Pike. The naming of cats was one thing Jon and Martin had never really been able to see eye to eye on. One day many years ago, Jon had come home with a stray kitten and informed Martin that they were calling her The Commandant. Martin hadn't had the heart to argue at the time. Jon had been so adorably besotted with the tiny thing, how could he tell him no? But Martin always felt a little ridiculous calling such a squeaky little fuzzball by such a weighty title. So he'd nicknamed her Manda, and called her that until she passed away from old age in front of the fireplace. Jon had only lightly teased him for it, and Manda didn't seem to mind answering to two different names.

When they adopted their second cat, three years after rescuing Manda, Jon had wanted to name him Lord Chancellor. This time, Martin put his foot down.

Please Jon, can't we give the cat a normal name?

Jon scoffed. What self respecting cat would accept a normal name?

You think a cat's going to care if it's called Whiskers? Or Mittens? Or Fluffy?

Yes, and their owners should be hanged for lack of creativity.

In the end, they compromised, and the cat was dubbed Lord Chancellor Reginald Roberts III. Martin called him Reggie. And so it continued for every subsequent cat they owned, down to their current pair. In addition to the Sergeant Major aka Percy, they were also graced with the presence of Brigadier General Eleanor Evans, aka Ellie. People who didn't know them well sometimes assumed they actually had four cats instead of two.

The scraping of a white cane on concrete announced Jon coming up the front walk. Percy alerted to the sound and trotted over to the front door to wait. A moment later Jon came in, Ellie following closely on his heels like a mother shepherding a slow kitten. She did that often these days. There had been a time some years ago when Jon had been clipped by a drunk driver while walking up the lane, fallen into a ditch, and broken his leg. Ellie had found him on her daily ramble outside, then gone home to Martin and refused to stop screeching until he followed her to see what the problem was. She had appointed herself Jon's official outdoor chaperone ever since. Jon didn't put up with overprotectiveness from humans, but apparently he could tolerate it in cats just fine.

"Sophie and Rasheed say hello," Jon said. He shuffled over to the counter and set down two bags. One had the logo of the chemist's shop, containing the month's assorted prescriptions (arthritis medications for Jon, blood pressure and thyroid medications for Martin). The other had a container of something thick and brown and spicy-smelling. "They insisted on giving us some of their leftover curry, so I think we're having that tonight, unless you have any objections."

Martin smiled. Percy leaned his front paws on the counter walls and meowed insistently, as if to say Yes, that is clearly meant for me, please serve it up straight away. "Sounds better than omelettes. I'll go put on some rice." He leaned in to kiss Jon on the cheek.

***

The curry was excellent. Rich and warm and exactly as spicy as Jon liked it. After dinner found him and Martin on the couch, Jon leaning sleepily into Martin's shoulder. The fabric of Martin's sweater was soft against Jon's cheek, and it smelled faintly of lavender scented soap. Somewhere close by, the Sergeant Major was purring like a well oiled car engine. No doubt he was using Martin's lap as his own personal heated cat bed. Good taste in laps, that cat.

"Let's see, where did we leave off," Martin said. Jon heard the distinctive paper scrape of flipping pages. Real paper books were something of a rarity these days, but Martin wouldn't hear of replacing his collection with more convenient electronic versions. Jon couldn't afford to be as picky. Paper books were satisfying to hold, but they didn't come with built in text-to-speech software. Except when Martin owned those books, then they sort of did.

"Ah, here we are." Martin cleared his throat.

"Nevertheless I long—I pine, all my days—

to travel home and see the dawn of my return.

And if a god will wreck me yet again on the wine-dark sea,

I can bear that too, with a spirit tempered to endure."

Martin read in a calm, gentle voice. A slight shift in the cushions told him the Brigadier General was settling herself down above them on top of the couch. Aloof, but still part of things. With care, Jon reached up, found her chin, and offered scritches. The Brigadier General graciously accepted. What a picture they must make.

Jon didn't actually know what Martin looked like anymore. That was a statement that was true on a couple of different levels. Jon's mental image of Martin was still of a smiling, round-faced man with freckles in his late twenties. Jon knew Martin couldn't look like that anymore. His skin was dry and papery, his arms soft and flabby his hair thin and wispy and bald on top. And that was before considering the visual changes that other people (including Martin) commented on, like white hair and liver spots. Jon tried to overlay those facts onto his mental image of Martin, like a police artist trying to age up a photo of a long-missing person. But Jon would never know how closely that image matched the real thing.

On a deeper level though, Jon wasn't even sure if his image of young Martin was still accurate anymore. He'd made a point of memorizing every feature of Martin's face the day he'd decided to take his own sight. Every night for weeks after that, he'd conjured up the image in his mind, gone over every single detail with a mental microscope. He'd hoped that by sheer repetition Martin's face would wear a groove on his memory that could not be wiped away. But memory didn't work like that. Like an image that had been through the photocopier too many times, each act of recall changed the memory, altering and embellishing it until it was a caricature of its original form.

Once, that would have horrified Jon. He'd already had Sasha's face stolen from him, and no amount of terrible eldritch knowing power had been able to retrieve that knowledge for him. The thought of losing Martin's face? That had kept him up nights in a cold sweat. But if the decades since had taught him anything, it was this: the Not Them might have stolen Sasha's face from him, but it had also stolen every other part of her. Her voice, her laugh, even her manner. Jon still had every other part of Martin, waking up beside him each morning.

Jon awoke to gentle shaking. "Jon? Jon, you'll get a crick in your back if you fall asleep like that."

Jon grumbled and sat up. His spine screeched at him for forcing it back into a normal alignment. He grimaced. "What time is it?"

"Half past nine. You want to go to bed? Or I could make Percy let you have my lap."

Half past nine. In his younger days that barely counted as night. One of the lesser known adjustments of old age was the way it had completely obliterated his night owl tendencies. Jon considered Martin's offer. One last nap on his beloved's lap before moving to bed? "Tempting. But I think if I stay much longer I'll stick to it permanently."

With some considerable effort, Jon levered himself out of the couch. He offered a hand to help Martin up, which he readily took. "C'mere a minute," Martin said, tugging Jon gently back before Jon could turn towards the bedroom. Martin placed a hand under Jon's chin and tilted it up slightly. The gesture was both invitation and request, codified through decades of habit together. If the answer was no, Jon just needed to pull away, and that would be that.

Instead, Jon leaned in. There was the subtle but unmistakeable crackle of electricity that came before their lips met. Martin pressed his mouth into Jon's with a somewhat surprising level of intensity. Had something happened while he'd been out that day? Well, if it had, Martin would tell him. Or he wouldn't, if he didn't want to. Either way, it wasn't something Jon needed to know. Jon reached up to caress one cheek. It was dry and cracked, but covered in a soft peach fuzz he'd always been fond of. His other hand stretched around Martin's back, still soft and warm and huggable as an overlarge teddy bear. Jon might not know what Martin looked like anymore. But he didn't need to.

#jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my fanfic #i will handwave as much canon as I have to to give these boys the soft ending they deserve

[edgy-fluffball]

The Shine Of Scales In The Night - Or: Humanity’s Abyss

One of the coolest, most awesome people in the world has finished another run around the hot gas ball in the vast emptiness of space and I felt like taking up an old prompt they gave me ages ago. Without further ado, @tigerthealien HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

No one ever returned from the mouth of the river. It was common knowledge not to walk beyond the griffin head-shaped cliff from which the river tumbled into its bed at the bottom before it continued to flow towards the glistening sea. The swirls and currents the motion created between river and sea made the water salty; not quite salty enough to kill but unbearable enough on human tongues. The spot was not mentioned in the village beyond the cliff and the people were careful to get their water at a safe spot before it tumbled over the edge, mixing with the sea and losing its fresh taste.

It was a spot abandoned by birds and animals, the plants surrounding it were lyme grass and fox flowers that had gradually found its way to the river banks. The flora mirrored the surroundings, taking to the circumstances and adapting accordingly. The emptiness of nature around the pool between the sharp rocks that made up its boundaries emphasised the dead silence that held a tight grasp around it.

Disturbing the peaceful waters, so the villagers believed, conjured an evil spirit, devoted to the protection of the pool. It was the reason for any disappearances, any illnesses that overcame the village, untimely death of children and responsible for any immorality and sin committed in the community. The elders had given the shadow a name and the legend was told in hushed voices, evidence given in dark corners and token of good luck sold to travellers and locals alike.

The few who were not scared off by the stories of sightings of description of the beast, thought again once they had been taken to the rows of tombstones in the graveyard, each one dedicated to one that had tried to seek out the spirit, each one buried after their corpse washed on shore in a bay on the other side of the village. The villagers dedicated a tombstone to them, engraved it with a warning for others and held a mass on their behalf before gathering at the inn to drink on a memory they did not share and listen to more stories of the spirit’s bloodlust, told by the elders.

One morning, just as the gates were opened and the first trader and farmers entered the village to set up their market stalls, the children walked towards the school, and the men unlocked their workshops and stores, a dark horse was seen trotting onto the market place. The rider sat hunched over in the saddle, armour dull and battered, with deep scrapes and kinks in the metal, the indicator of an eventful life. Wives stopped to look at the tall figure and watched as it demounted in front of the tavern. The armour made no sound despite the metal plates and pieces knocking together. The eery silence sounded as a song, lamenting the loss of something the villagers could not understand. They watched as the rider led the horse towards the stables, briefly spoke to the stable boy and gave him a few coins before handing over the reins. He still wore his helmet when he entered the inn.

The gossiping villagers returned to their daily tasks and work eventually, reluctantly as they busied themselves. Every now and then, eyes found the inn’s door and remained there for a moment before they moved on, as if they had been caught doing something forbidden.

The rider left the inn again in the afternoon, helmet covering his face, hands gloved and armour adjusted in place. His sword sat tightly fixed to his hip, causing whispers around the market square. It gleamed in the pale sun light.

He had the stable boy get his saddled horse, mounted it and left the village again. The gatekeeper was the last person to look after him. For a moment, everybody stood rooted to the spot. Then, the mob ran to find the innkeeper to enquire about the new arrival.

All the innkeeper could report, however, was that the knight had demanded a room, food and care for the horse before retreating to his room and coming down mere moments earlier. He had not answered, the eager innkeeper reported, when he asked where he was heading.

The inn was packed that evening; men, women and children stood crowded around the counter, trying to spot whoever entered through the front door. One of the youngest children, a girl hardly older than four years, asked her mother why everybody had gathered and was told that travelling knights never brought any good with them, the newest arrival being no exception.

‘But why?’ the child demanded to know.

‘Because the spirit doesn’t take kindly to intruders,’ the mother answered, squeezing her daughter’s arm, too tight, making the child cry, ‘it will decide to get rid of us, too, if we allow trespassers to go to the forbidden pool.’

The girl hid her face in the mother’s shoulder, sniffling quietly as the tension grew with every passing minute. The Elders sat huddled together at one table, conversing about important things that no other could hear. A few of the young men tried to best each other throwing darts under the watchful eyes of the young women, drinking from tankards taller than their hands. Near the fireplace, a group of musicians played a melody speaking of love and loss, the warmth of home and safety of the fireplace.

A cold gust of wind made the candle flames flicker. The door had been pushed open and the knight stepped over the threshold, hand resting on the pommel of his sword. His helmet covered everything except his eyes and they shone in the dark of the entrance. He moved through the crowds towards the counter and barked an order at the innkeeper. A tankard of ale in his hand, he pushed towards the back off the room, past the Elders, the darts board and flock of young girls.

The wooden bank squeaked as he sat down, the sound being the only thing audible in the room. Heads had turned, eyes followed him and whispered conversations stopped mid-word. A heavy hand dropped on the table, leather squeaked as gloved fingers grabbed the tankard.

Then, one of the Elders pushed his chair back, got up and moved towards him. The villagers reverently moved aside, allowing him to pass through their bulk.

‘Stranger,’ he greeted the knight, ‘welcome in our community. What leads you here?’

The rider tilted his head, dark eyes glistening in their deep sockets in the shade underneath the helmet, ‘Thank you for the warm welcome. My aims and destinations, however, are mine to deal with.’

‘Are you planning on seeking out something specific?’

The knight turned and seemed to look around, ‘Heard a rumour, wanted to follow up on it.’

The Eldest inhaled sharply, ‘I truly have to advise you not to follow up on it. No good ever comes from rumours, that is well-known. We are determined to keep you out of harm’s way.’

‘You can try,’ the knight lifted the tankard, ‘yet I am determined. And you sound like you are threatening me.’

‘No human has ever returned from the pool, we are not going to allow you to –‘

‘Your sword is shiny,’ the small girl had slipped out of her mother’s grip and made her way over until she stood next to the knight, ‘why?’

The knight seemed to stop and halt for a motion, ‘It is sharp. I need to look after it.’

‘Nothing else is shiny.’

A sound escaped the darkness under the helmet, a sound resembling a chuckle, ‘You are a smart one, aren’t you? Armour protects you, no matter the state. A sword needs work and caring to stay sharp. Are you interested in my sword, young lady?’

The girl giggled and nodded, ‘Mum says it’s dangerous.’

‘No, not when you know what you are doing, little lady,’ the knight loosened the strap holding the helmet in place and pushed it up over his face.

Revealing a face that did not match what every single villager had made up to be the expected. The elders jumped up, righteous anger and disgust on their faces. Men spilled their drinks, women gasped and the kids stopped playing under the tables.

‘A woman! A disgrace! Dishonour!’ The cry reverberated from the walls, sniping and cutting, being repeated in every mouth. The knight, hand tight around her sword’s pommel, let it happen. If anything betrayed the collected expression she showed, it was her twitching eye lid as she looked around the room.

The Elders led the parade of angry villagers past her. Spitting into her face and threatening to set the dogs on her seemed not to touch her. Her face remained unchanged, a mask, motionless as if cast in iron. Only, when the kids were pulled away from her and the little girl was treated harshly enough to make her cry again, she got up, took her helmet and left the inn without another word. The villagers followed her, outraged by the audacity to keep her cool and not react to the insults and slurs yelled after her.

‘Get lost!’

‘Drop dead!’

‘Unnatural bitch!’

‘Get yourself killed!’

Some of the younger kids, hiding behind their mothers’ skirts and a few of the young women stared after the rider with something resembling sadness in their eyes. The Elders were quick to usher the people back into the inn, one already beginning the tale of the handsome hunter determined to catch the evil spirit, and how he died. Only the Eldest stayed outside in the onset of a dark night and followed the knight, giving her the exact location to the forbidden pool. His face and eyes betrayed the hatred he wished to conceal but the rider got on her horse and left him in the mud they whirled up as they galloped out the gates.

***

Despite the warnings and gruesome stories, the first sight of the forbidden pool, long before the long climb down the cliff began, was one to behold. No matter whether sun shine, rain or night time, the pool with its lively surface and wild waters seemed to shine with fallen starlight. Its glimmering waves transported a warm shine towards the sea where it bled into the current.

The horse refused to set a single hoof on the narrow path leading down to the riverbed. The rider dismounted and took the saddle of the trusty steed’s back, smoothing down the fur and whispering a few words in its ears. The mare huffed and began to graze. The rider stayed with it a moment, stroking its neck. Then, she took her sparse belongings from where they had been attached to the saddle, shouldered them and set out to climb down to the moonlit pool.

The rubble under her feet told the story of attempted descends, the sander marks spoke of unsuccessful attempts and the broken branches on the trees lining the path made all too clear where prior fighters had tried to hold on for just a moment, a moment of safety before they plunged to their deaths.

The knight steered clear of the trees, the beaten tracks and loose stones. She made her way down the cliff, sticking to where her own feet guided her instead of following the trail others had made. Her sword dragged over a few smaller stones, upsetting their balance and sending them over the edge. She could hear them hit the ground and rolling into the riverbed with a small splash.

The closer she got the waterfall, the stronger she felt the cool spray on her face. Water, drifting on the wind, caressing her skin and following the hard lines of an expression that did not know a soft touch. She did not wipe it away, let it pool under her eyes until drop after drop slid towards the corners of her mouth, almost like tears.

And then, just as her legs and knees began to tremble with exhaustion and the constant danger of slipping and falling, her feet hit even ground, sandy soil giving way under her boots. She breathed a sigh of release, stumbling a little as her legs gave in. Her hands managed to catch her weight as she collapsed, a mere stone’s throw from the riverbank.

The water gurgled, unaffected by the sunk down figure on its banks. It flowed, unfazed by her shallow breaths, over the cliff and plunged into the pool of shining stars and moon light, rolled and stomped with the force of the feral sea that licked into the freshwater, drawn in by the uncommon movement. It entangled between the mossy rocks that lined the pool, salty sea wedding the fresh, pure water coming from the mountains to the banks. As the swirls mixed and sweet, fresh water turned salty and lost its refreshing taste.

The moon watched as the newly created water as it made its way towards the sea, singing its song of what it had seen and experienced. Drops jumping out of the bed cheered; shattering against the dark soil they betrayed the taciturn waters and let out their tale of the knight at the pool. They did not stay around to see what followed their talkativeness.

Their song and chatter reached the ears of a being, swimming up and down along the coast, waiting for the tides to allow it to swim inland. A single soft splashing of water gave away its position just underneath the surface, a gleaming tail flicking. It watched the river mouth, ready to use the first opportunity to go and see for itself what the twaddling waters had been talking about.

***

The water’s sad song, unheard through the lapping of the river, nothing more than a whisper was the first thing she heard when she opened her eyes. It was still dark around her with nothing but the moonlight allowing a little clarity. She pushed herself up on her hands, shaking her head to get rid of the fogginess in her brain.

Something had changed, she felt. The pool’s brawl had died down a little, a mere ambient noise, not the roaring waterfall that had dominated her descent.

‘You are alive.’

She groaned and rolled around on the hard floor. A small sound behind her made her look around but the churning surface of the pool was nothing more than that, gleaming water splashing up, licking at the rocks.

‘Who are you?’

It sounded like the gurgling of water, as if the person spoke through a mouthful of liquid. The knight scrambled to her feet, hand around the handle of her sword.

‘Who’s there?’

‘Didn’t they warn you? I am a rumour. A whisper. A bad dream,’ the voice replied, giggling against the water, ‘No one ever comes to see me anymore. It gets so boring and lonely out here and the waves stop talking to me after some time.’

The knight still peered into the pool trying to make out where the voice came from. She pulled the sword out of its sheath, pointing it at the water.

‘This is stupid,’ she pressed through her teeth, ‘what am I doing, fighting water?’

‘It’s shiny,’ the voice came closer, water lapped over a stone, ‘I like shiny things.’

‘You and me both,’ the knight stepped closer to the shore, ‘now show yourself.’

‘I don’t know if I want to. You were lucky the tides pressed out of the stream and I couldn’t get back before. I would have started singing the moment you stepped onto the path. And what a shame it would have been.’

‘Are you checking me out?’ The knight looked around, ‘this is hardly fair.’

‘I’ll give you that,’ the water parted and something peeked up above the bank, ‘hello. Nice to meet you.’

The knight stared. Her mind was wiped clear, the sight in front of her was too much to summarise it in words.

The slender arms leaning on the dark soil shimmered wet and blue in the moon light, hair stuck in tight, dripping strands to a slim neck. For a moment, the knight thought to have seen extravagant jewellery around that neck, then it hit her.

‘You have gills!’ She dropped her sword, knelt in front of the creature and got closer to its face, ‘do you have a tail, too?’

Water hit her face as something splashed behind the shape in the pool, ‘I do. Do you want to see it?’

The knight nodded and sat down properly at the edge, ‘May I? This is truly exciting, if you forgive the honesty. I have never met a cryptid before.’

Gargling laughter was the answer. The knight followed every slow move the creature made until it had swum into the middle of the pool and turned on its back. Its tail flicked from one side to the other, lazily moving as if it was treading water.

‘It looks amazing,’ the knight let her gaze linger on the shining scales.

A blue shimmer radiated from the whole length of the finned tail, a shimmer that followed darker patches on the gleaming surface of the palm sized scales. It looked like there were stripes embedded under the protective layer, stripes in a colour that resembled black more than anything else – and yet, the tail glowed in the dark of the pool. The knight felt a shiver run down her spine.

‘You are beautiful,’ she breathed, ‘thank you for showing me. My mother always told me about your kind – she lived close to the sea and a whole flock of them were always close by. She told me one day I would find them again so I followed the whispers and rumours.’

‘You wittingly found my kind? We kill the humans we find, we sing them a lullaby and drown them,’ the creature returned, pointy ears twitching like an attentive dog’s.

‘You are a cryptid, the humans you catch are the ones that do not respect that you have been around for so much longer than us,’ the knight smiled carefully, ‘why are you here? My mother always made it sound like you were gregarious?’

‘The others are, I got excluded from the pack. I don’t fit.’

‘I know what that feels like,’ the knight sighed, ‘we have that in common.’

‘How do you not fit? You look like a normal biped to me. Maybe a little prettier than the ones that came here before.’

‘Thank you,’ the knight leant back to hide her blush in the darkness of the night, ‘but I am a disgrace to humankind. Wherever I go, I get driven away when they see what I am. I figured, chasing shadows would make more sense than something humans could never give me.’

‘I cannot breathe underwater,’ the creature swam closer to the edge, ‘at least not properly. I need to stay close to the surface and the coast, otherwise I’m at risk of drowning. It breaks my heart every time I try to get out there because I think something changed and I could re-join my family.’

‘I’m sorry,’ the knight started to take off her armour, one piece and pauldron after the other, ‘that must hurt you. Is there anything I can do for you?’

‘You are nice,’ the mellow voice came closer, velvety soft and musical, ‘but you can’t change the fact that my gills and lungs don’t work the way they should. I try to enjoy what little I can when I feel strong enough for a proper swim but I need to return to the pool before the tide locks me out and I have to tread water. I love the way water parts for you, the way it swirls around my tail. I love how my hair moves in the water like its one with the currents and how cool it is against my skin when it is wet. I love how quiet it is under the surface and how violent water can be, but also how gentle…’

The knight finished taking off her armour and crossed her legs, ‘No wonder you sing for the men who try and catch you.’

‘I could still sing for you, if you decided to use the shiny thing,’ the slender arms reappeared on the riverbank, ‘I’ll take that risk.’

The knight smiled, ‘I’m not going to use my sword. I promise. Do you have a name?’

Water hit her in the face, the creature disappeared under the surface and came back up a moment later, gasping for air, ‘I do! But no one ever asks for it because no one cares.’

‘I care,’ the knight lifted her arm, ‘so, what is your name?’

‘Tiger shark,’ a hand was held out the water, ‘I extend you a biped greeting. If you were a merperson, I would insist on a finbump.’

The knight chuckled and shook the hand, ‘My name is Eua. Nice to meet you, Tiger.’

They grinned at each other for a moment before settling back, Eua against the Cliffside, Tiger into the water.

‘What are you planning to do now?’ Tiger asked, blowing bubbles into the rippling waters, ‘Your quadruped is still up there.’

‘It’s fine, I’ll figure something out,’ Eua leant back, ‘for tonight, I would like to stay here – if you allow it.’

Tiger’s dark eyes blinked and her jaw dropped, ‘Of course I will, you can stay for as long as you want and need to.’

‘Thank you,’ Eua smiled, ‘I’m going to be back in a few minutes, just…getting the horse and my things.’

‘Of course,’ Tiger splashed with some water, lighting up the droplets sailing through the air, ‘I promise not to sing!’

‘Thank you,’ Eua grinned back over her shoulder, ‘to a bright future.’

Tiger waved after her with her fin, splashing up a little more water before resting her chin on her forearms. She watched as Eua climbed up the cliff, smiled to herself and started humming a small melody.

Eua perked up, ‘Hey, are you singing?’

‘Humming.’

‘Please don’t, I already don’t want to take a single step more,’ Eua yelled downhill and turned back around, ‘at least let me get my horse.’

Tiger closed her lips, allowing no further sound to escape. She waited patiently for Eua to return, waited with all the questions she had about biped habits and what they were going to do, two outcasts who found their own place in the world together. They would take on any challenge, sword and fangs ready to defend each other, no questions asked.

They just did not know yet how deep the effects would run.

#fluffball writes #original #cryptid #merperson #disability #outcasts #feels like a prequel #happy birthday tiger-story #mermay #mermaid #writing