#sand castle Separated AU | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moni-logues · 2 years

Text

A Fine Line 7

Pairing: Namjoon x f!reader

Genre: roommates/enemies-to-lovers, non-idol!au, smut, angst

Word count: 8.5k

Summary: It’s time to rebuild your life. You’ve got a new job, a new apartment, and a future that might be bright. The only problem? Your new roommate.

Content: unprotected sex, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, squirting, multiple orgasms

Beta’d by @here2bbtstrash 🥰

Chapter Six | Masterlist | Chapter Eight

7 - Lacunae

You woke the next morning, grateful for the weekend reprieve. You lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Your body ached, the emptiness Namjoon left in you lingering. You couldn’t shake him from your head. You wondered what he was doing, what he was thinking. Was he thinking of you? You knew you had no right to even ask that question but it came to you again and again.

You thought of your life, emptiness stretching out before you. Your life as a blank page, blank with everything scrubbed out. Erased. The barest traces left of marks that were once there, faint and undiscernible. You wanted to take a pen and scribble all over it, mark the page and make it yours, make it you. But how? You had nothing left. No pen, no ink.

‘Only Namjoon,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Except I don’t have him. I live with him. I fucked him. And that’s it.’

You realised you had let him consume you, or rather, you had done everything you could to be consumed by him. You had made your whole life about wanting to fuck and not actually fucking this man and now you had fucked him. There was nothing left. You were barren. You felt the world expand around you, separating you from everything – everyone – else. You felt yourself pale and weak in comparison to the world, a ghost, a mere reflection of life, not the real thing. You couldn’t wonder to yourself what had gone wrong, how you had ended up here because you knew the answer already. You had thought you were past it. You thought everything was moving up, moving on, but here you were, arrested, stuck. You felt literally stuck on your bed as if it were sucking you in, sucking the life out of you. You had thought you were finally building something for yourself, maybe you had been, but now you had knocked it all down like a castle in the sand.

Thinking about last night brought you out in a cold sweat. Feelings whirled in you so fast and so confused that you couldn’t grab hold of any of them, couldn’t find the root, the wellspring buried so deep inside you that you might never reach it. You were overwhelmed: guilty, embarrassed, ashamed, bereft, lost, lonely, heartbroken, sad sad sad. You pushed everything down further, harder, trying to bury more and more feelings inside that inaccessible cavern within you, shoving a metaphorical fist down the throat of your heart. It was too much, too deep, and you couldn’t swim.

Sweating and sticky and sore, you heaved yourself out of bed, groaning. Everything hurt. You had known that it would but the reality of it was something else. Your body wasn’t about to let you forget everything just yet.

You made your way slowly to the bathroom and turned the hot tap on full blast. You brushed your teeth and your hair while you waited for the tub to fill. You stared at your face in the mirror, wondering who was looking back at you. Everything about your life had changed in the last year; had you? You felt like you couldn’t possibly be the same person you were – too much was different now, you had left that person behind, hadn’t you? – but that left a question mark in the place of who you were now. You thought things would fall into place, just work out in the way they seem to for so many people, but they hadn’t. Maybe that wasn’t possible; maybe that never happened and everyone just hid their hard work. You’d worked hard, hadn’t you? Leaving was hard, starting again was hard, stepping back to square one in every aspect of your life was hard. Were you hard? You twisted an invisible ring on your finger and turned away from your pale reflection.

You grimaced as you dipped a foot in the bath water. It was hot, burning hot. You took the plunge, the surface of your skin sizzling all over. You were glad of the distraction it provided, even as sweat pricked in your scalp. You closed your eyes and waited for the burning to subside before slipping down, sinking beneath the water entirely. You held your breath as long as you could stand and emerged with a gasp.

The bath water was cold now, your skin wrinkled and dry. You turned your hands over, looking at your body as if for the first time. It was different now, too. You gripped a thigh in your hand, looking at the way your fingers made deep dips in the flesh, sinking into the new cushioning there. You stroked a hand across your stomach, softer, more abundant now than it had been. You had fewer sharp edges; everything a little rounder, smoother; soft curves where there had been straight lines. You hadn’t noticed it happening really, even as you evaluated yourself in the mirror, checking yourself as an object for sexualisation; this was a different way of looking at your body. Your body, not a body intended for him, some man, someone else. This body was yours; this body was you, too. A shiver ran through you as you thought that maybe this body reflected indulgence, carelessness – recklessness even – after years of having to be so careful. Then you let that thought float away; this softness wasn’t recklessness. It was freedom. A living testament to everything you could do, everything you could have now. This was a body as a body should be: nourished, fed, sated. Wet, cold, aching.

You sighed and tipped your head back, leaning over the edge of the bath. So much freedom, you thought to yourself, and what had you done with it? So much freedom and yet you’d somehow managed to trap yourself again. When given a blank slate, you hadn’t scribbled all over it like you’d wanted to, you’d chipped away at it until it was a mere fragment, throwing away what might have turned into the best parts of your life until you were left with almost nothing. Because it was too much and you were a coward who couldn’t do anything on her own. The realisation hit you like a ten-tonne truck; had you ever done anything by yourself? No. Was that why you were pushing everyone away? To force yourself to do something on your own?

You disappeared under the water again. You couldn’t get away from Namjoon. You were on your own (except you lived with Namjoon); you had no one (except Namjoon); nothing was left (except Namjoon). There he was. Like some kind of beacon, ever since you had moved in here and met him, he had lit you up. He exposed parts of you that you hadn’t known were there; he had drawn out things in you that you weren’t sure were good, but they were things you liked. He made you feel different; he didn’t know anything about you except what you had given to him. You liked that distance between you. He was close enough and not too close.

You remembered his body against yours with a shudder and then jumped when a knock sounded at the door.

“y/n?”

“What?” you replied, your voice croaking, the first word you’d spoken all day.

“Are you ever coming out of there? It’s been ages.”

You sank beneath the water with a sigh, a jet of bubbles breaking the surface above your face.

“Y/n?”

Another knock, harder this time.

“I’m coming!” you called back, sitting up quickly, sending tidal waves of water sloshing over the sides and onto the floor. You pulled the plug and stood, wrapping yourself in a towel, not bothering to dry off. You opened the door and walked past Namjoon, not looking at him, certainly not thinking about his body underneath his clothes, the way his lips felt against your skin, the hollow ache in your core as you remembered him inside you.

You lay down on your bed, still wearing the towel. You shivered but you weren’t sure it was due to being cold. You could still feel the heat of Namjoon against you, caged in by his arms. You wondered if it was too much to expect it to happen again. Would he want that? Could you handle that? You almost laughed to yourself, remembering the size of him; how did anyone manage that? You didn’t bother admonishing yourself for what had happened; for all your insistence that you weren’t going to fuck him, it felt inevitable. You realised that you had been hurtling towards it since you first laid eyes on him. And now that you’d alienated everyone else in your life, what did it matter what you did with him? You had no one to answer to but yourself. And you didn’t care. You were going to grab on hard, you decided, and not let go. Let Namjoon pour whatever colour he wanted into your life; there was nowhere to go but up, right?

Your thoughts were disturbed by a soft knock at the door which you ignored. Namjoon opened the door anyway. He hesitated in the doorway and you continued to ignore him, couldn’t bear to look at him, to cast your eyes over his clothed body now knowing what lay underneath. You shivered.

“I… I thought you might want to talk,” he said, taking a tentative step or two into your room.

“About what?” Panic set your heart racing; you knew exactly about what and could already feel yourself curling inwards, cringing, sucking yourself back in like a snail into its shell. You did not want to talk about it.

“Last night?”

“Why would I want to talk about that?”

He didn’t answer immediately, awkwardly shifting from one leg to the other, umming and ahing.

“Why would I want to talk to you about anything?”

Just get rid of him, you thought to yourself; talking with him was not something you were interested in, had the capacity for. If you weren’t going to talk to your actual friends, why would you talk to him?

He huffed.

“You don’t have to be a heinous fucking bitch all the time, y’know. I was just trying to be nice.”

You sat up, finally turning to him.

“I never asked you to be nice.”

“You never asked me anything! You just moved in here and decided to hate me and make it my problem! I don’t know what is wrong with you!”

You hadn’t expected his explosion, hadn’t expected that you were still getting under his skin. You were surprised but delighted. Talk? Absolutely not. Argue? You’d take it.

“You. You, Namjoon, you are what‘s wrong with me. You are my fucking problem. Jesus Christ you’re annoying. Is this the talk you wanted to have? Come in here just to call me a bitch and tell me there’s something wrong with me?”

“No! That’s not what I came in for; you just have to make everything an argument!”

“Oh, just fuck off.”

“Stop telling me to fuck off! It’s my fucking apartment! I’m not fucking off!”

“Fuck you, Namjoon-”

“You’ve done that already.” His voice was cold and flat. His dark eyes sent a shudder right through you and you shivered, hot and then cold.

“Oh, that’s it then, is it? One and done? Well, thanks very much. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

He raised his eyebrows at you, his mouth agape, shocked indignation puffing up his chest. His eyes scanned the room, searching for something that might get through to you but coming up short. He shook his head and huffed again, his face darkening.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he growled, jaw set.

“I want you to fuck off.”

“I’ve already told you to stop telling me to do that. I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

“Then fuck me.”

You rose from the bed and let your towel drop, standing naked in front of Namjoon, body flushed and aching. His eyes travelled the length of your body and back up as he said nothing.

“Fuck me or fuck off. Those are your choices.” You moved closer to him, grabbing a fistful of his T-shirt. He swallowed, staring you down but still not answering. “What’s it going to be, Namjoon? Fucking off or fucking me?” You slipped a hand between your bodies, grasping his dick through the fabric of his trousers.

He shifted his weight backwards and took a step and your stomach flipped with disappointment that he was going to leave. And then he threw you like a ragdoll onto the bed, so hard you bounced into the headboard.

“Fuck,” you gasped, recovering yourself as he peeled off his top and pushed down his trousers, crawling over to you. He picked you up and shoved you against the headboard again, as visions of last night poured in. Your body was on fire, waiting for him to touch you – anywhere, anywhere would do as long as he touched you. He gripped your arms tightly, hands easily circling around them, and brought his face close to yours.

“You really think you can handle it?” he asked, his voice deep, low, gruff.

No. You didn’t think you could. You were sore and tired and aching. But the alternative was this hollow feeling in your chest that hurt even more, penetrated deeper, and chilled you to the bone.

“Yes. Just fucking give it to me already.”

He removed one hand from your arm and swiped at your lips, swirling his fingers in your entrance. He laughed, almost sighing into it.

“Fuck, you are so wet. How are you so fucking easy?”

You bristled at his words but couldn’t deny the truth of them. You were wet – you were soaked – and you were easy for him. Had been since day one, since minute one, since the second you laid eyes on him.

“Shut the fuck up,” you whispered, lust and shame and desire swallowing your voice. You swallowed hard and took a deep breath, determined he wouldn’t unravel you this time. Not again. You cleared your throat. “I told you I didn’t want to talk. Are you going to fuck me or not?”

He merely rolled his eyes and pressed the head of his enormous dick at your entrance. He moved slowly, torturously slowly, into you and you had to grasp at his arms, digging your nails in, every part of you tensing and trying to relax. You looked skyward, blinking hard at the tears pricking in your eyes. The pressure in your core travelled down your legs and they wobbled. Your breathing hitched and you tried to focus on that, just breathing in and out as he split you in half for the second time in less than 24 hours. The blunt pain of the unreasonable stretch between your legs made you whimper. Every part of you was on fire and it was half agony, half ecstasy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whispered over and over, just waiting for him to finally be all the way in. But he stopped and put his hands on your waist, lightly trailing one up and down your side. He put his lips on you and you shuddered, goosebumps flowering all over your skin. He trailed kisses down your neck and sucked at his final stop, his tongue lightly grazing the skin and you felt yourself melt, a soft warmth flooding you. He moved his body closer to yours, your chests just meeting, and cupped your breast in his hand, rubbing a thumb over your nipple, hard and pert. He moved his lips down, across your shoulder, and brought your hand to his mouth. He kissed your fingertips and you keened, liquid desire pooling in your core again. He placed your hand on his shoulder and you held tight as he moved, curling his hips into you, pushing further. Not quite so painful this time, moving more easily, and Namjoon held you, his hands firm on your body, his breath warm against your flushed skin, your faces cheek-to-cheek, his hair tickling your nose. You tipped your head back and fell into it, let yourself fall open at the slit, at the carved wound he was ploughing through you. You moaned his name and he grunted in response, his hands squeezing your sides.

He stopped again when he had bottomed out, pulling away slightly to push his forehead against yours. You instantly wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and hugged him closer to you. You didn’t want to look at him. You didn’t want him to look at you. You just wanted to feel the overwhelming pressure of him so far inside you, you could feel it in your throat. You tipped your hips to try to encourage him to move and he did, pulling back and thrusting forward again and again until your eyes rolled back and mouth hung slack. You shuddered against him as he hooked an arm under your knee, lifting your leg, allowing him deeper – you didn’t know you had deeper. You whimpered and whined as he took his other hand between you, slowly drawing circles with them against your clit. The pain and pressure of it all had made you so sensitive that you were close to climax within seconds. ��

You swore quietly, legs shaking, your body quaking underneath Namjoon as you came, clenching so hard around him that he couldn’t help the long, loud groan that accompanied your orgasm. He held you close as you dropped your head on his shoulder, gasping for breath. He moved faster then, harder, the slick noise of your moving bodies the only sound punctuating the breathy quiet. You almost felt as if you were drowning again, slipping under the surface, dazed and confused, but the feeling of him inside you, filling you up, the weight of his body against yours, the absolute safety of knowing that this was all it was, just sex, not even friends, kept your head above water. As long as you had this, you thought to yourself, just give me this. The total, overwhelming sensation of Namjoon inside you, against you, on top of you. As if he brought you to life, your last, remaining tether to this world.

He was slower to come after you this time and you were able to gather yourself, unlike before. You bit down on his earlobe and sucked; you tangled a fist in his hair and tugged lightly; you whispered in his ear how good he felt, how big he was, how well he stretched you out and finally, he moaned, swore, and came inside you again.

As before, he held you, just for a moment, both getting your breath back, not talking, not even looking at one another. As before, the minute he slipped out of you, you felt empty again, the overwhelming ache radiating from your chest now and not between your legs. Unlike before, this time, you wanted him to stay.

“I guess you’re going to tell me it’s time to fuck off now, then,” he said quietly, putting a foot back on the ground and pulling on his trousers. You didn’t want to let him know that you weren’t, that you didn’t want that; god, no, he couldn’t know. You hated him, you reminded yourself.

‘Don’t get it twisted; this is just sex. Nothing has changed,’ you told yourself. ‘He’s still the same guy you’ve hated all this time. You’re just using him for sex. We’re using each other for sex. It’s fine.’

“Well,” you replied, “I wouldn’t have to say it if you just did it.”

Namjoon rolled his eyes and stooped to pick up his T-shirt, not bothering to put it back on as he walked away and out of your bedroom. You pressed your face into a pillow and screamed silently. You hadn’t planned for this. You hadn’t planned for any of this. You wanted to speak to Hoseok. You wanted to know what he had said to Namjoon two days ago; you wanted to know what Namjoon had said to him; you wanted to tell him that you had now fucked Namjoon, so wouldn’t that make everything right between you? … He had said you could call him when everything was straightened out; even you couldn’t kid yourself that any of this was straight. He would know what to do; you knew he would know what to do but you knew you couldn’t call him. Instead, you just opened up your messages and stared at them, willing him to forgive you, willing him to message you first. Of course, he didn’t.

Still sticky between the legs, heart still thudding against your ribcage, you felt you had to get out. You had to get away, even for five minutes. You roughly scrubbed yourself clean, put on whatever clothes were closest to hand and left the apartment, the evening air beckoning.

You walked aimlessly at first, wondering where you could go or what you could do and then you headed for the river; you had no real destination but it somehow felt less aimless with the water by your side. The sun was already dying in the sky but it was still warm, a balmy summer’s evening, the humidity sticking your top to your back within minutes and the hair at the nape of your neck curling and sticking with sweat. You kept on. You tried to ignore the groups of friends and, worse, the couples also spending time at the river. You cursed yourself for having made the decision to come here of all places. Of course, the river would be busy! The river is fun! The river is romantic! You didn’t have the stomach for fun or romance. You were chock full of loathing, almost indiscriminately. You weren’t angry; you didn’t have the energy for angry. You were just sickened by everything.

Why was life still so hard? You had done hard; you had escaped from hard. Real life, proper life, wasn’t supposed to be hard. Was it? The past was still buzzing around you like stubborn flies long after the picnic had finished. You were so tired of thinking about it. You were so tired of thinking, full stop. That’s what Namjoon was supposed to have been: a fun diversion, something you didn’t have to really think about, to take seriously. He was there to be teased, a plaything, nothing more. It was supposed to be a solution to your problem; this was all intended to make hating him a little less frustrating and a lot more fun. Now it had created more problems; he had wormed his way into your bed, into your body, and into your mind.

You walked until the sun set and then turned on your heel and walked back. You were thirsty and tired and sore, in every way that a person can be. You crawled into your bed, naively hoping that things would look different tomorrow.

They didn’t. You spent the day in bed, hiding from everything, scrolling on your phone until your eyes went square then scrolling some more until the screen blurred in front of you. Even though you could see clearly the path that had led you to this moment, it still somehow did not add up. You still couldn’t work out why things were this way. You couldn’t escape from life. There was no distance far enough that would take you from yourself. The bruised ache between your legs reminded you that there was one thing that got your out of your mind. Just one. It made you sick to think of: how badly you wanted him, how constantly, how long he had been eating away at you. Looking into the mirror as you applied your night cream ahead of Monday morning, you realised you could make a decision. Yesterday was the last time. It didn’t need to happen again. Just because it happened once (… twice, sort of three times) didn’t mean it had to happen again. You could draw a line under it and move on. Every new day was an opportunity for a fresh start. You could make one.

Monday rolled around and you were still determined to have that fresh start. Forget about Namjoon, forget about everyone else, everything else, and move forward. Go to work and do your job well. Come home and pretend not to notice the atmosphere in the apartment, sitting like a heavy fog. Namjoon was on the sofa, reading; you ignored him and changed out of your work clothes in your bedroom before moving to the kitchen to cook. The silence was stifling. Every clink of knife on plates, every sizzle of food in the pan, even your footsteps felt loud. You didn’t dare look at Namjoon to see if he was looking at you. You felt some of your old anger come back and you were relieved; this was how it was supposed to be: hatred only; you were supposed to hate him and he was supposed to make you angry and that was that.

If he would just say something or do something to break the silence, the tension hanging over you! But you didn’t know what you wanted that to be. You didn’t want to want him anymore but that didn’t mean you didn’t want him to want you – you had to smack a hand to your forehead and process that thought three times to make it make sense. You had half-believed things could just go back to exactly how they were before but, of course, that couldn’t happen; you can’t take sex back. Not ever. And now you had to push on into something new. What that would be, you didn’t know, but you were resolved that it would no longer include sex. You pushed back every memory you had of every feeling of him inside you, against you, his arms around you, his breath warm on your skin, his hair so surprisingly soft… You shoved them down as hard as you could but they kept springing back, resurfacing. Every time you looked at him, or thought about him, you felt it all in screaming technicolour.

You plated up and were going to retreat to your bedroom (you had to get away from him) when you decided against it, sitting at the dining table. Yes, you had to get away. Yes, your whole body was crying out, but you were making a fresh start. A fresh start that didn’t include sex, you reminded yourself. You had to be able to exist in the same room as him. You kicked out the chair opposite you.

“There’s food,” you said.

“What?”

“There’s food.”

He just looked at you and you were still frustrated that Namjoon’s face was always so unreadable; you never knew what he was thinking even though it felt like he always saw straight through you.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to eat your food.”

“As if that ever stopped you. Do what you want; I’m just saying it’s there.”

A minute passed and you carried on eating, but then he finally got up from the sofa and investigated what was left in the pan. He made himself a plate and sat down heavily opposite you.

“It’s good,” he said, his mouth full.

“Thanks.”

And that was it. You ate in silence and dropped your plate in the sink, turning on the tap to start the washing up. When Namjoon finished, he brought his plate over and you were just about to curse him violently in your head when he shoved you lightly out of the way.

“I’ll finish,” he said quietly, moving you out of the way with his body and taking the sponge from your hands. You stared at him, nonplussed, and, at a loss for something else to do, wandered into your bedroom where you decided to take a shower.

You were lying in your bed, thinking of – what else? – Namjoon. You had spent all weekend in a tizz about it. Everything was confusing and you couldn’t shake your head clear. A fresh start was a nice idea but if you were going to stick to it, you needed to get him out. You thought of everything collapsing around you, not for the first time, and you decided to try some meditation. You’d never done it before, though like everyone else, had heard so many things about the wonders of mindfulness and all the rest. Maybe that’s what you needed.

You sat, cross-legged on your bed, and closed your eyes, trying to focus. You didn’t really know what you were doing but figured it was basically something you could make up as you went along, so you started with your fingertips, focusing on them for a while, what they were feeling, where they were, travelling up your hands, wrists, arms, your shoulders and your neck. With a shiver, you remembered Namjoon’s lips there and had to force him from your mind to start over. You skipped your breasts entirely, pretending that you hadn’t remembered his hands over them, his mouth on them, the way they pressed against his body when you arched your back. You focused on your toes (curled), your legs (shaking), and you couldn’t ignore the wetness in your knickers, the ache in your core, the throbbing of your clit.

With a frustrated sigh, you physically shook your body out, sat down again, and tried something else. You focused on five things you could see: the chest of drawers, the city skyline out of the window, your dirty clothes escaping from your hamper, yourself in the mirror in the corner of the room, the unmade bed. Four things you could hear: a siren wailing past, your own deep breathing, the quiet thump of music from Namjoon’s bedroom, the blood roaring in your ears. Three things you could feel (not in your body, not in your body): not the flush being drawn to your skin as your heart pounded, not the moisture between your legs where your walls clenched around nothing, not the goosebumps spreading all over your skin. You gulped, your mouth suddenly dry. It was no good. He wasn’t out of your system. You couldn’t push him down far enough to forget about him.

You didn’t know what to do. How do you negotiate a fresh start when you don’t want a fresh start? How do you tell someone you hate that the only time you don’t feel empty, sick, and hollow is when he’s inside you? How could you expect him to be ok with that?

But then. Wasn’t he ok with it? Fine, he might have thought you were a bitch but it wasn’t like he had said no. He had wanted it, too. You realised, with a shock, that you had been so focused on yourself this entire time that you had no idea what was going on in his life; you didn’t know what his life was; you weren’t even sure what his job was. Maybe he was stressed; maybe he needed a release or an escape. This didn’t have to be all about you. This could be mutually beneficial. The thought perked you up somewhat. There didn’t have to be any guilt if you were both behaving the same way.

You stood and walked to Namjoon’s closed bedroom door. You didn’t know what you were going to do once it opened or if he rejected you, but you had to do something – you were desperate for him. You opened his door, knocking on it lightly. He was on his bed, reading a book. He looked up at you as you entered and said nothing. You said nothing. The seconds passed. You opened your mouths to speak at the exact same moment.

“What?”

“Do you want to have sex?”

“What?”

You thought the level of surprise in Namjoon’s voice unreasonable – as if you hadn’t done it already, as if it were news to him that you wanted to fuck each other.

“I said, do you want to have sex?”

He looked at you, blinking, mouth gaping for a second or two before he shook his head and shut his book.

“It’s not compulsory or anything,” you continued, pouting a little, anxiety spiking that he really was saying no this time. Namjoon still did not respond. “Well, you know where I am…”

Unwilling to actually bear witness to your own rejection, you walked away, back to your own bedroom, thoroughly deflated. Absolutely no vibrator could do what Namjoon could do to you and you knew it. You sighed as you flicked the door shut behind you, knowing you were about to be very underwhelmed. But the door didn’t click shut. It thudded against Namjoon’s open palm as he stood in the doorway. You turned to look at him, unsure.

“Take your clothes off,” he told you, quietly, shutting the door behind him and stripping himself off his T-shirt. You didn’t hesitate, immediately slipping your shorts down your legs and stepping out of them. As you pulled the hem of your top upwards, you realised he had stopped stripping and was just watching you. You paused and he barely lifted his chin, encouraging you to continue. You took your T-shirt off over your head and paused again while he waited for you to remove your underwear. His gaze like a heat gun, everywhere he looked, you felt hot; burning, flames were licking up your cheeks and heat prickled on your neck.

Naked in front of him, you stood, waiting for him to move. He did so slowly, walking towards you, his eyes roving your bare body, his bottom lip caught in his teeth. You could see the imprint of his erection against his trousers and you knew he wouldn’t be wearing underwear beneath – you briefly wondered if he ever did. Then he placed a hand at the back of your neck and you swallowed hard, staring at him with wide, open eyes. He let his hands roam, his touch gentle and soft as you hardened beneath him. He pulled your body close to his and you whimpered as he slid his arms under your buttocks and lifted you into the air. He didn’t throw you this time; he lay you on the bed and left a line of kisses from your ear to your knee.

You hadn’t expected this to be soft. You had expected it to be hard, to be rough, to obliterate your own consciousness. This was something else. This brought you into your body gently, softly, with a melting kind of comfort that made your limbs tingle and your heart race.

“Oh god,” you sighed as Namjoon swirled a nipple with his tongue, sealing his lips around it. You gasped as he bit down and your cunt throbbed. Keeping your nipple in his mouth, he ran his fingers through your soaked folds, moaning at just how wet you were for him. With a trail of sloppy kisses, he swapped one nipple for the other and drew light circles over your clit with his fingers. You whimpered and whined beneath him, desperate for more, harder, faster. Your hips bucked, lifting up to try to press yourself against his hand but he lifted off every time you tried.

“Namjoon, please.” The word was out of your mouth before you realised what was happening. You had told him you wouldn’t beg; you had sworn to yourself you wouldn’t, but there you were, your last resolution shattered. Your breath hitched and you panicked, knowing that he would know he had won. Maybe he would get up and abandon you, leave you like this as he did before. You couldn’t do that again. If he didn’t touch you and touch you now, you thought you would die.

But he didn’t leave. He pressed two fingers into your cunt and you moaned. His thumb pressed down on your aching, sensitive clit and you swore, your voice high and broken. The pleasure was wound tightly in your core and you could feel him everywhere: your limbs tingling, your heart racing, sweat dousing you from every pore: all straining to that one, small spot. Your whole world had reduced to this bed, this man, these hands on you. He rocked his fingers inside you, letting that movement alone move his thumb.

“More,” you whispered. “More, please.”

You felt his mouth lift in a smirk against your neck and almost took it back, almost had a barbed retort on the tip of your tongue but then he pushed a third finger in and it was swallowed in a low groan. He kissed your throat and then sat back on his knees, looking down at you. His gaze was heady and your mind was frozen; you couldn’t look away, even as he lowered his gaze and licked his lips at the site of your tight, wet pussy swallowing his fingers. He moved them harder, faster, pressing against your g-spot insistently and your back arched high off the bed. He moved his thumb, then too, hard, insistent circles that had you squirming.

“Fuck, Namjoon, fuck.” You could hear the whimper that accompanied every exhale and the small scream that escaped when he took his free hand and pushed on your lower abdomen. “Oh god, oh god, o-” You came suddenly, your orgasm stealing your breath from you as every muscle in your body tightened and ecstasy shuddered over you, rolling through you again and again until even your muscles were screaming. You gasped hard as you squirted, drenching his hand and your bedsheets, the suck and squelch of his fingers still moving inside you so filthy you blushed deep and hot. Finally, Namjoon let you go and you brought your hands to your face, almost as if to check that the rest of your body was still there. You drew in a breath, a huge, ragged gasp and looked at him, his face swimming in front of you, slowly settling into focus just in time for you to see him put one finger in his mouth, sucking lasciviously. You tried to speak, form any words; your mouth hung slack and your mind was stuck, buffering, processing nothing but the sight of him licking you off his finger. You had never done that before; no one had ever done that to you before.

He hooked a hand behind you and pulled you up to a seated position; he had to keep his arm there to keep you up, your body so pliant and floppy and unrecovered. He repositioned himself so your head fell back into his hand and he brought his fingers to your open mouth. You took them eagerly, gratefully, running your tongue along them, sucking, cleaning the rest of your juices from his hand. His eyes never left yours, his deep, dark, penetrating gaze drawing you in until he removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop and moved backwards. You whined as he left you and huffed as you dropped onto your hands, Namjoon no longer supporting you.

He stood back and you could see the dark bloom of pre-cum on the light grey fabric of his trousers, his wanton erection straining at the fabric. He slipped off his trousers and it sprang free, turgid, tumescent, irresistible. You crawled forwards and grabbed onto his hips, looking up at him for permission. He looked down at you and smirked, but there was something almost kind about it, almost a smile, almost welcoming, not jeering. Settling onto your knees, you took him in your hand, mouth watering in anticipation. You almost didn’t know where to start. You had orgasmed your brain out of your ears and there was nothing but desire left, nothing but the heavy, needy drag, low in your abdomen, and the man standing in front of you, his perfect, princely prick in your hand. You wanted it all so badly, so much, everywhere all at once, briefly and hysterically lamenting to yourself that he didn’t have two of them, or even three.

You brought your mouth to his tip and licked him clean, the tang of salt hitting your tongue. You worked on the underside, flicking, rubbing, then kissing and sucking at that sensitive spot. You trailed your kisses down to his base and further still, taking one of his balls into your mouth as your hand gripped his shaft. You sucked and licked and moved to the other and then back to his length, tongue tracing the pulsing vein from base to tip. Namjoon was so quiet and you had to hear him, you needed to hear him lose himself in you. You worked harder. You took him into your mouth to the back of your throat and further, letting your breath be sacrifice to his pleasure. You held him there momentarily, hands massaging his balls, tears pricking in your eyes, rolling over, streaming down your face. You moved upwards and swallowed as he reached your mouth. A soft grunt, that was all. You took him back in your hand and lifted your mouth off completely, swiping at the dripping drool with the other hand before kneeling. You grabbed his arm and pulled him around, swapping your positions: you, kneeling on the floor now, him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Settled between his legs, knees on the hard floor, you resumed your ministrations. You kissed the crease of his leg and his hip as your hand pumped. You kissed the soft skin of his inner thigh and then bit down, taking a tiny strip of flesh between your teeth. He hissed. You sucked, licked it better. You looked up at him through your lashes and his eyes were half-lidded, his bottom lip between his teeth. You kept looking at him as you took him once more into your mouth, bobbing up and down with hollowed cheeks, your hand making up the distance. You settled at his head, kissing, sucking, flicking across the top and back, swirling your tongue against the underside. You came off with a pop, his dick slick with saliva and precum; you swooped your drool from him onto your finger and pressed your finger in the sweet spot behind his balls, rubbing his soft skin as you kissed him from tip to base and back again. Another soft grunt, but louder this time. You pressed harder with your finger, sucked harder, and there it was again, almost a groan.

You trailed your tongue down his length and lifted his balls with your hand, swapping your fingers and your tongue as you licked at his perineum, as your hand gently squeezed. A real groan this time. You looked up at him again and his eyes had fluttered closed, his jaw jutting out. He leant back on his hands, his fingers fisting the bedsheets. You hummed as you swapped your hand and mouth another time, humming as you kissed the very tip of his tip and moaning freely as you took him into your throat again. You swallowed, squeezing him tight, your tongue pressing against him, your fingers rolling his balls between them, playing against the skin behind them. You moved up and took a breath through your nose, then moved down, repeating the motion, your soft moaning travelling through him until it came out of his mouth, too. The tears in your eyes blurred your vision and you couldn’t see his expression, could barely see his glazed eyes looking down at you, the strain in his arms as he tried not to grab hold of you, the jumping, flexing in his thighs as he was desperate to rut, to thrust, to fuck your throat hard until he came, shooting his seed straight into your stomach.

Your jaw ached, your throat grew sore, but Namjoon grew louder beneath you.

“Fuck, fuck,” he growled, his breath heavy, his voice rasping and low. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” Through clenched teeth, he moaned and grunted, his cock leaping in your mouth, his legs twitching either side of you. You watched him tip his head back and offer a long, drawn-out curse, rounded off with your name. That thrilled you. Your walls clenched at the sound and you were reminded of how badly you needed him to fuck you. This could not end here. You pulled back, your whole face wet with tears and spit and sweat. He gasped, his mouth open, a command on the tip of his tongue, but then he looked down at you, your ruined face, your fucked-out eyes, and he was gripped with the intense, burning desire to look into them as he came inside you. Before you could bring a hand to your face, Namjoon’s were on you, one roughly wiping away your tears, the other swiping at your mouth.

As you rose from the floor, you stumbled, your legs dizzy beneath you, both from kneeling and from your desperation. Namjoon caught you, lifted you, placed you on the bed and shifted himself backwards. He drew you onto his lap and you rolled your hips, coating his wet cock in all your juices.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his hands tight on your arms, his head tipped back and eyes closed. He took a deep breath and brought his head down, looking at you though you almost weren’t sure he was seeing you anymore, his pupils blown, eyes black and dangerous. Your hand wandered down between you and you hitched yourself up, then you sank yourself down on his shaft, the stretch nothing but satisfying this time.

“How-,” he started and then paused, needing to catch his breath as your cunt enveloped him, inch by slow, tantalising inch. “How do you feel so good? Fuck, fuck me.”

“As you wish.” You had hoped to purr, but your voice trembled. You lifted your hips and lowered them, feeling every detail of his thick cock against your slick walls. You held his shoulders tight, nails digging in, and pressed your forehead against his. Your breath mingled with his as you breathed heavily together. His hands each found purchase on the round globes of your buttocks, lifting and dropping you, tipping your hips so that every stroke brought his head against your g-spot.

“God, Namjoon,” you moaned, arching backwards. He groaned in reply, dipping his head to press his mouth to your body: your neck, your chest, sucking the hard bud of your nipple into his mouth so that you keened and arched further.

It was perfect, this fit. Not even the minutest space between you; he was overwhelming inside you, knocking out thoughts of anything else, anyone else. Your arousal flushed around him, the slick slap of your skin against his like music to your ears.

“I want to see you touch yourself,” he growled, his voice so low you almost didn’t hear it. He gripped your glutes with more force now, lifting and slamming you down hard. You didn’t hesitate to obey, immediately loosening your grasp on his shoulder, dragging your nails down his chest, teasing his nipple and earning a groan as your hand made its way to your clit, wet and desperate for friction. Your fingers slipped over it, rolling it between them. You cried out, knowing you wouldn’t last much longer. “Keep going,” he said. “Don’t stop.”

You obeyed, his arms taking on more of your weight as the pleasure piled on. You spasmed against his cock, your walls trembling and thrumming with the onset of ecstasy. You whined and mewled and whimpered as he lifted his hips to fuck up into you with force. Your fingers kept working at your clit as your other hand clenched a handful of his soft, smooth flesh, gripped in your vice-like fingers.

“Namjoon-… I… Fuck, god, I… Mm…” Coherence had left you, what remained of your mind slipped away from you as you whined, high and loud, shuddering against him as that tight coil within you snapped, shattered, was completely obliterated. Your hand fell away from yourself and you leant heavily against Namjoon’s chest, but it wasn’t over. He thrust into you harder and faster and your breath hitched; your limbs felt like jelly, your head fuzzy, your aching cunt still spasming, still rolling in the tumbling waves of your orgasms like the aftershocks of an earthquake.

Namjoon was close, his grunts getting softer, transforming into almost whimpering groans. He bit his lip and you knew he was still trying, in vain, to keep himself contained; you pawed at his mouth, to get him to open up, hooked your fingers inside and with your name on his tongue, he came with a final hard thrust, kissing your cervix and painting your insides white.

His hands let go of you, falling to the side and you simply fell against him. You sat in silence for a minute or more, him softening inside you, his cum dripping out of you around him. When you opened your mouth to say something, you found it was completely dry.

“Fuck,” you said, your voice hoarse and you were suddenly aware of the pain in your throat. Namjoon made a sound in response, guttural and low. Neither of you moved. You weren’t sure you would be able to. Your body was heavy, like lead, limbs lifeless and floppy. With your head against his chest, you could feel Namjoon’s heart thudding, thudding, then slowing. You wondered if he could feel yours, his hand pressed against your back. His other was absent-mindedly rubbing your lower back, a firm palm against your skin and then the light grazing of his fingertips and then a soft squeeze, his touch still bringing goosebumps to your flesh and a shiver down your spine.

As life found its way back into you, as the lights switched back on in your mind, you shuffled and Namjoon found the strength to lift you off, rolling you into the mattress. You both lay back, no longer touching, not speaking, barely thinking. This was what you wanted; this was what you needed. Your mind wiped clean- well, your mind wiped dirty. Your head felt empty, light, almost giddy. You lay, neither one of you moving, listening to each other breathing, to the noise of the city outside. You felt sleep begin to claw at you, your eyelids feeling heavy, this small slice of peace allowing you to relax.

“At some point, we have to talk about this,” Namjoon said, quietly, interrupting it all.

Your carefully constructed blank room inside your brain collapsed like a house of cards.

“Not now,” you whispered. “Please not now, ok?”

Namjoon sighed but accepted your answer. He patted your thigh lightly as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He scooped up his trousers and walked to the door, shutting it softly behind him. Not now. Maybe at some point; maybe he was right but, god, not now.

On your way back to your bedroom from the bathroom, you noticed Namjoon had left his T-shirt on your bedroom floor. You picked it up and flung it on the top of your over-full laundry hamper.

Chapter Six | Masterlist | Chapter Eight

#namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #namjoon fic #namjoon #bts x reader #bts smut #bts fic #mmm repost

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ninjaunderscore · 1 year

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What are your headcanon of Evil wizard without hood apparence and of His forms a ball and a giant spider i like to see how he look His full body reference

Finally getting around to answering the year old asks LMAO anyways Ive gotten 2 asks about this so I broke them up into separate posts

I call the Evil Wizard 'Mandrin' which is a misspelling of Mandarin, reason being I joked about him being as small as a Mandarin orange, so with that out of the way ill be referring to him from now on!

Tbh I saw him as a troll, kinda like what the troll mom spawns in thieves forest/in the marsh? But lighter with the fur patterns like his spider form!! Hes just a little guy, heres an old ref of his unhooded look and his alt forms (theyre just the same imo, lmao)

I havent seriously drawn the ball form he has nor have I drawn his spider form since Im horrifically afraid of arachnids

His design is very different now but I haven't gotten around to drawing his ref sheet but it's the same thing, just different robes!

Heres him in my newer style!! hes just a full on spider creature

MASSIVE LORE DUMP AHEAD

Onto his head cannons about his forms:

I personally have an au where my head cannons take place because I absolutely adore lore building on this game

Mandrin wasnt originally evil, he was a part of a coven of high mages and such! They take the form of anthropomorphic creatures and try and keep the peace working with other kingdoms (flooded temple/Marsh, Castle Grey(Home Castle), Lava World, the Arctic, Sand Castle, etc etc yk)

Mandrin thought of a plan to take over the entire land, have everyone live in harmony in his own way and to have all the kingdoms respond to the high covens command (which he wanted to be in charge of) but that required essentially beating the kingdoms into submission. He was then cast out of the coven to be on his own, stripped from his title and role.

Mandarin was enraged and proceeded to take the situation into his own hands, training his own army with his own ideals to unite the world and be king of the lands.

Im not gonna go too far into his back story but thats how he started to be,,, well,,, himself.

Hes able to transform as Ive stated before, high powered mage, but he doesnt have a lot of experience so his powers are limited. This is why his spider form is very.... Unstable? Goopy, slimy, not right. He and his magic are very unstable to begin with and its just enhanced by the magical crystal he stole from the king.

#LORE DUMP #Holy shit that was so much writing #im so autistic for this game im sorry for the word wall sobbing #the void of shitposts #newgrounds #the behemoth #castle crashers #castlecrashers #evil wizard #someone asks the dumbass demon

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erenspussy420 · 2 years

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Android Twst Au Part 2

This post doesn’t contain any nsfw as of yet, however this blow however still is. Please read at your own risk thank you.-Mod 420

Fem Reader Insert

Parts: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

Beyond the grand staircase, there was a heavy, thick purple decorated curtain that separated the two levels. Long golden tassels hung on the sides of it, and the Owner grasped it and pulled the curtain aside with ease. The Owner’s heels clicked the second you touched the hardwood floors, now you were finally on the second floor. She turns to you, nodding as if to make sure you hadn’t wandered off anywhere else when she started up the stairs. You hadn’t and really where were you even going to go? Off the rails? Sure you would like to go back and take a closer look at the androids a bit more, curious how human they look up close than behind a glass wall.

However, you wanted to see the second floor. Your friends raved on and on about the gorgeous Vil Unit, whose beauty ranked 2nd close to the popular Neige LeBlance unit. There’s a rumor going around how neither of the units are not allowed to be next to each other, you weren’t sure as to why but the companies from the units respective creators seem to curb stomp those rumors whenever they arise. Maybe you can ask, not like they can shut you up permanently lol.

“Please come in, I invite you in, dear customer!” The owner sweetly says. She gestures to you with a grand sweep of her trusty duster. A cloud of dust smacked the curtains, the Owner batted it away sheepishly smiling at you.”...”

You thank them and go in, the Owner drops the curtains as soon as you pass in and you wait for them to continue. The Owner continued forward towards the end of a small hallway on your left and there was a fork in the road for you and your guide.

“Here at Raven Works, we have a large variety of top of the line androids from each kingdom. Unfortunately, my dear customer, I can only show you a small selection we have today. Here,” she points to a left hallway that was lit up by purple light and surrounded by walls, carefully painted scenery of trees and bright red apples hanging by the branches. If it wasn’t for the fact it was just a painting, you be tempted to pluck it.``This is the Pomefiore Androids, inspired by her majesty, The Beautiful Queen. All three androids are quite….unique if I say so myself. You might have heard of our Vil Unit! He’s quite expensive, but there is no other who rival’s a Vil unit’s beauty!”

Except the Neige Unit from Royal Sword Automation, but you keep your mouth shut.

Then she points to your right and compared to the forest that led to Pomefiore this hallway was bright as outside, the walls painted a beautiful sky blue, the dunes of the Scalding Sands covered the walls with the castle of the Sultan peeking over the horizon.”Here to our right is the androids from The Scalding Sands the Scarabia Units, both are legacies from our previous lines! The Al Asim’s and the Viper family Units. Both androids are considered to be top market in their own groups! Looking for a companion? Then the sweet sunny Kalim is perfect for you! Need a competent top notch loyal attendant? Jamil, the utterly gorgeous android, is worth the money!”

Clearly the Owner has a bias.

Now she turns to you, a mask glittering under the lamp above your both and for a second you swear her eyes looked more lighter. As if they began to shine. No, that’s probably the light, you think.

“Dear Customer, as it’s your wish, I am more than happy to show you the androids you wish to see first.”

A choice appeared!

<-----Pomefiore?

-------> Scarabia?

You hum, thinking of which side to go to. One one hand the whole reason you were here was on your left, but the Owner’s enthusiastic marketing was making you curious.

The Owner hums, waiting patiently.

#twst android au #twisted wonderland android au #twst kalim #twst jamil #kalim al asim #Jamil Viper #reader insert #vil schoenheit #pomefiore #scarabia #twst rook #twst epel #twst vil #x reader #fem reader insert

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mania-sama · 8 months

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rule #12 - through the tides

Rule #12 - Through the Tides - Fish in a Birdcage

➼ information ❧ Voltron ❧ Pairing: Hunk & Lance & Pidge ❧ Tags: shark attack, amputation, surfing, surfer! lance, no voltron lions au, blood and injury, harm to animals (the shark had it coming), hurt no comfort, nonbinary! pidge, gore ❧ Summary: Lance just wants to surf, but it seems like a creature of the sea has different plans in mind. ❧ Word Count: 1,837 ❧ Cross-posted from Archive of Our Own ❧ Original post date: 16 October 2023

➼ whumptober 2023 ❧ Day 16: Amputation ❧ Previous Day ❧ Next Day ❧ Masterlist

Author Note:

this is inspired by a VERY specific fanart of lance and shiro (not ship i dont think) where shiro is trying to comfort a crying lance, who is staring horrifiedly at his amputated arm. the nub has obvious shark bites, and the whole work is so compelling bc its like lance was hurt by the thing he loves THE MOST in the world (or that the fandom has assigned to him anyway) and nobody can understand his pain but shiro, who is also an amputee.

BUT YOU KNOW WHAT. I CANT FIND IT. i cant find the fucking fanart. its gone. if any loser reads this fic and happens to have the fanart somewhere. link me to it. or dm me on instagram or twitter. i am desperate. i am so utterly desperate idk what to do with myself

also faintly inspired by barbie's "a mermaid tale" but thats only because the only references i have to surfing are the movie and Teen Beach Movie and im gonna be honest, this is not like teen beach movie at all

The ocean is Lance’s happy place. When he sets his feet in the cold salt water, the tension in his body from the day or week flows out of him like how the ocean waves ebb against the shore. His feet sink into the sand and seep between his toes. It’s a natural massage to work out his anxieties. The breeze rushes off the horizon, tossing his hair and cooling the sweat on his forehead.

He stares at the glittering sun in the midday sun. It brings him relaxation and adrenaline all at once; the water lapping his ankles is his calming massage, but the waves crashing further ahead call his name as though they are a crowd of excited fans. Lance doesn’t surf professionally, preferring to keep his hobbies and his career separate, but that doesn’t mean he won’t get a rush from the beachgoers watching him tackle the unforgiving ocean.

He adjusts the board under his arm and takes a deep breath. He spares one glance over his shoulder at his friends waiting on the safe sand. Hunk waves at him enthusiastically from where he’s building an already impressive sand castle considering they only arrived ten or so minutes ago, and Pidge smiles from their lounge chair. Their massive umbrella protects their fair skin from burning at the slightest touch of the sun.

Lance turns back to face the waves. A big wave builds in the distance, too far for Lance to get to in time. It’s a promise of a thrilling challenge yet to come. He doesn’t waste any longer and strides out to join the people swimming out in the ocean.

The chill of the ocean is a fresh of breath air to him. Most people — Pidge — complain about the bite and sudden cold, but Lance has never been able to understand that reaction. It’s like a mint for bad breath, a shower after toiling in the mud, and a payday after two weeks of hard labor. He embraces the slap of the crystalline water as though it’s an old friend, which in some ways, it is.

He hoists himself stomach-first onto the board and drifts when his feet can no longer touch the ground. He’ll propel himself now and again to keep moving in the right direction, but for the most part, he stays stagnant on the water. Waves come and go as they please; a good one is harder to catch than a mediocre one, and a gnarly wave is the rarest of them all. Unfortunately, Lance is in the mood for something huge to make the adrenaline rushing through his veins worth it, so he has to wait a long time.

Honestly, it’s not so bad. As long as he’s in the ocean, he can’t feel the edges of impatience creeping up on him. The sound of the water’s ever-constant movement is a melody to his ears and a remedy for his greed. He can stare for hours at the way the sun reflects off the water in dazzling bursts of light. It’s a phenomenon that can’t be replicated even if all of history’s best painters rose from the dead to collaborate on recreating the scene.

It can’t capture the smell of salt and seaweed, the gentle caress of the water on his hands and calves, or the happy people screaming and splashing each other in the distance. Seagulls circle overhead and dive when they find a fish straying too close to the surface, or they find a human to harass for bread and chips. The heat of the day burns on Lance’s tanned skin, unrelenting even as the thin clouds attempt to diminish its power.

It’s Heaven on Earth. Michelangelo could never hope to replicate it.

Lance spies a wave rippling in the distance. The water ripples, and the frequency of the sloshes near his board change. His heart picks up pace, and his arms start working to get closer to the rising wall. After years of surfing, he can easily tell which waves will end in a disappointing, diffused heap, and which ones will create a loop so large Lance can stand inside.

A shadow overcasts the water that the wave rises over, and the rush of the moving water overpowers the loud beachgoers closer to shore. His world narrows to him, the wave, and his board. Lance forces his board and himself underneath the wave, the ocean completely encasing him in sea water. He stays there for a moment, salt and water burning his eyes and flowing against his closed lips. The sounds of the surface world are muffled, and he can only distinctly hear the gushing water.

When he’s about to break the surface, he spots a form under the water. Lance has had close encounters with sea creatures before — fish, crabs, jellyfish, and other rather unfriendly animals that didn’t appreciate a human traversing their home. He’s never been upset when they pinch, bite, or sting; he is the trespasser. The ocean is not his home.

He’s been near sharks before but in every single instance, it was in a more or less controlled environment. The sharks were small, freshwater, and used to human presence. Experienced divers kept their noses and teeth from ever getting within biting distance.

In the split second after, he breaks the surface with his board clutched in a white-knuckled grip. All he can see now is the very tip of the shark’s gray fin coming straight towards him.

“Shark!” He screams as loud as he can, and he climbs onto his board as quickly as he can. The wave is still moving, on the brink of collapsing in the great surge he’s been waiting for. They travel fast, faster than he hopes the shark is willing to go to keep up with him. It’s not going to be the surf that he wanted, but by God is it going to be the one he’s going to get. It’s ride-or-die, literally.

Hazily, he hears the blow of whistles and the revving of the lifeguards’ waterskis. His heart beats too hard in his chest, and it nearly overpowers the sounds of the restless ocean. His board wobbles underneath him, threatening to knock him off with the slightest misstep. He knows it's the panic setting into him that’s throwing him off but his running mind can’t help but associate it with the shark moving in the depths below him.

The shark produces a massive shadow underneath his board and rocks Lance off-balance. It’s slippery from being completely under the water, and his tingling feet prevent him from a steady grip. His arms flail in the area to pull him back on the center of the board.

He’s still screaming his head off when he falls. It’s not completely off — his body is still on, but his hips straddle the board and his legs plunge into the ocean. He tries to pull them back up, but he notices the wave has left him behind.

Then pain explodes in his right leg.

He thrashes against the board, attempting to use his full body weight to dislodge the shark off his leg. But it holds fast. Lance can see its body as more than just a shadow, now. Its nose sticks out of the water, and its huge body moves back and forth with all of the effort it has to pull him underneath the waves.

Lance can hardly think past the bite, how it sears his leg in the worst agony he’s ever felt. He’s been burned, stabbed in a fight, beaten to a bloody pulp, yet nothing compares to this. His skin rips and tears under the huge, sharp teeth of the shark. It takes all of his core strength to keep on the board and not tip over, which means leaning on the other side. It’s taking off his leg, it’s taking off his leg, but he has to sacrifice it if he wants to survive.

Blood comes up in smokey waves to pool around him and the shark, mixing with the white steaks and bubbles created by their fight. Lance lets go only temporarily to punch the animal directly in the nose, which actually gets it to let go. Its body torques and thrashes in the water. Lance uses the short opportunity to bring his leg onto his board.

Except it doesn’t come out of the water. His knee comes up, but the space where his calf and foot should be is occupied by the overflowing pour of blood and flesh. Tendrils of the tendons the shark couldn’t get ahold of swing in the open air. His white bone peaks out from his knee, a small numb in comparison to the long bone that should continue the skeleton.

He screams, and he screams when the shark launches to finish the job, and he’s still screaming when a pair of hands hoist him off of his board and out the shark’s bloody, snapping jaw. Its beady eyes flash in the open air, staring directly at its prey before it flops under the water once more. It breaks his board in half from the crash of its massive body directly down the center.

Lance’s voice is hoarse, and his sobs are uncontrollable as he stares at his leg. Or rather, the absence of it. It throbs like it's still there. The pink and red bits of his flesh fly off in the wind from the speed of the jet ski. The lifeguard is saying something to him, but he can’t hear it over the engine of the machine and the static in his ears.

He’s never going to surf again. He’s never going to be able to walk on his right leg again. Not as flesh and bone, but as a wooden peg, metal, a machine, nothing but the air. It should still be there. He can still feel it. Parts of it remain; his liquid and solid insides still flow and burst into the area where it should be. It should be there.

But it’s not, and it’s unbearably painful and all he can do is sob as the pain overtakes all of his senses. Salt flies into the gaping wound, filling up the space where his leg should be.

Where his leg isn’t. Where it never will be.

He’s sobbing when the paramedics drag him into the waiting ambulance, and he’s reduced to whimpers as the sheer pain overrides his consciousness. Hunk cries with him and holds his hand, and Pidge can’t seem to stop screaming, either.

He passes out thinking about his leg. How it’s gone and never coming back. but still hurts all the same, still mocks him in its presentation of being real and attached to his body. He sees the pink, pulsing flesh peeling from his knee in thick strips behind his eyelids. He feels the warm, blood-infested water, and stares into the gaping jaws of the shark that claimed his leg.

Then, the deep, watery darkness of unconsciousness.

#voltron #voltron fanfic #vld #vld fanfic #lance mcclain #vld lance #voltron lance #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #fanfic #ai less whumptober #whumptober fic #whumptober #whumptober2023

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endermen-impasta · 10 months

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I haven't Posted in a While!

So, I haven't posted in a while and I wanted you guys to see the baby growing in appearance once more! If you guys didn't know, I updated the Separate AU on AO3 and Wattpad. Koine replaced Alastor (( because it made more sense )) and now that we're into the story, we have a solid base on what's gonna happen! The comic update is hopefully coming soon! Bye-Bye my cinnabuns!!

Here's Koine's Ref sheet as well. 🍄

#rottmnt #rottmntau #rottmntoc #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #art #SC AU #sand castle separated AU #drawing #unpause rottmnt #traditional art #BTW the two characters are the same person #Koine Hamato #Koine has a human form as well #ye

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guileheroine · 2 years

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a sky full of song, chapter four

Reeling from the night’s events, Asami finally confronts her feelings about Korra and their impending separation, but the Princess is one step ahead of her / Korrasami royalty AU / ao3 / chapter one, chapter two, chapter three

The moon crawled slowly across the sky that night. Asami watched it for a while after Korra and Silaq’s departure, her shawl tugged around her, cherishing the growing cold despite her body’s protest. She leaned into the wind—the penetrating chill that had been the constant of a life now slipping away, banished to the hinterlands of memory prematurely. At least it felt that way, even if she should have known what was coming. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had forgotten to say goodbye. Now the bitter wind seemed sweet.

This wait was agony, though not because she was concerned for Korra. Korra certainly concerned her, though. Asami’s resolve—so intently assembled and defended over the months—was a castle in the sand before the prospect of Korra leaving tonight. Korra far away for the rest of time, and (worst of all) marrying somebody that—well, anybody. It had probably a futile defence all along, since Asami was a lonely sentinel, laying down her guard every time that Korra extended her hand. This whole tour had been the best case in point, she thought wryly. All the pull of the southern soil was small next to that invitation, possibly it had always been, and it provided little comfort now.

She recalled how striking Korra’s moonlit back had looked. How she wanted to put her cheek to it and kiss all the bumps better. The words had barely come of her own volition tonight, and she couldn’t—wouldn’t—take them back now: you’re what I have left. Don’t be tempted to doubt it.

And Korra could do with them what she would, because Asami had no right to say more.

Another hour slipped by, and she was adjusting the pillow at her back. Rain pattered on the windows; it had finally pushed her indoors. Khiem came and sat beside her. He and Miki had been sprawled on the bed in the room he shared with Silaq, Asami on the daybed nearby. Miki was an intriguing combination of unnerved and unperturbed tonight. At ease with the fact that she didn’t want to sleep alone after the earlier fright, her ever casual manner turned on her own psyche. Perhaps that’s what war did to someone so unflinching—make them conversant with the limits of their own strength.

Clearly, Asami had gained no such insight, if she’d thought she could truly stomach leaving Korra.

“Do you want to take a nap, Asami? Maybe you should—” Khiem began kindly, as he swept a hand over his own eyes, yawning.

“It’s alright, I got a few hours before all the alarm bells,” Asami said. She wouldn’t sleep a wink.

Khiem acceded silently, leaning his head back to rest against the wall. “They… made quite the interruption tonight, didn’t they?” he said, and it wasn’t pointed. It didn’t need to be for Asami to feel the lurch in her belly.

She gave a perfunctory huff, flexing the fingers of her hand as she considered her response. She tried to make a leisurely approach to the question on her mind—a bit of artifice that Khiem didn’t need and wouldn’t be fooled by. “Did they ever. But Korra… did she say anything?” In the commotion that followed the initial dispatch, Asami had withdrawn a little for fear of what she might find if she probed Korra. Korra herself had retreated with expediency to the stables, Khiem in tow.

“She only said she was concerned about the steeds,” Khien answered. She said. Khiem rolled his shoulders as if to relieve some tension. “Let’s just hope they’re back soon.”

Unexpectedly, and before she could stop them, Asami’s eyes watered. She just hummed briefly in reply, but no doubt Khiem could hear that it was choked.

After an age-long silence, he spoke. And it wasn’t accusatory. “You aren’t doing her a favour, you know.”

Asami’s head lifted at that, but the words were a puzzle only for a moment. She gazed ahead, shaking her head imperceptibly. “I—she has a lot on her plate, I’m not going to add to it with all the trouble I’d make by…” She faltered, rolling the edge of her blanket between her fingers. “If she chooses to come to me…”

Although Asami had given Korra an invitation to do just that, she could hardly map the thought. Even that last gesture had felt like the desperate stab of a tied hand.

“She loves you,” he said, and it was a little steely now.

Asami’s head fell in her palm and she swallowed silently. When she finally removed her hand from her eyes, it was streaked with her tears. Khiem took pity on her and laid a gentle hand on her wrist, though he spared her the embarrassment of his gaze.

Were her hands tied? And if they were, who had tied them? If she could stand to speak what she wanted aloud…

Was there a world in which that helped Korra more than hurt her?

The tumult in her chest now made it hard to clear her head, but the notion called her. It still made her feel arrogant, covetous, after everything, but maybe it was the one good reason someone like her had to be selfish. If Asami had fallen at Korra’s feet before she rode out, what then?

If she had to fall at the feet of the King, her patron?

Korra had the goodwill of Four Kingdoms to lose. But Asami hadn’t lied. She had one thing left.

Asami knew the thump Korra’s seal-hide boots made when she dismounted. Distantly, she heard a small commotion outside, a snatch of jocular laughter, then footfalls. Her footfalls, ringing like thunderclaps on the wet flagstones. And then all the voices and feet abruptly much louder.

Asami’s eyes flew open with a start. She sprang up before she could drift again, her elbow locking as her bleary eyes adjusted to the light. Dawn peeked through the curtain. Miki was snoring softly, the raccoon tabby that must have crept in sometime in the night curled at her back. Then Silaq, of all people, was suddenly at the door, looking asleep on his feet. She rose and embraced him with a relieved sigh, took his shoulder and told him to rest. When she bolted downstairs, Korra was there, framed by the low wooden beams of the inn’s drawing room, looking much the same. Most of her ponytail had come loose and she sat peeling her sodden layers off. Khiem was kicking Korra’s muddy boots aside, and someone else was bringing her a hot brew. Her heavy eyes brightened when they fell on Asami. Asami threw her arms around her.

“Asami, hey. Let’s go later,” Korra mumbled into her shoulder.

“What?” Asami pulled back and said.

“The grotto. I gotta sleep.”

So single-minded.

“Yes, of course! Later. Come on, what do you need?”

Korra only bent her head into Asami’s shoulder again. She was not in the discussing mood, clearly, so Asami didn’t push her. Korra’s wet hair clung unpleasantly to Asami’s own cheek, but she didn’t mind. It took a moment, and an effort, before Korra pulled herself up again, Asami’s question forgotten if she’d ever registered it. Khiem gave Korra’s back a friendly rub and excused himself to go see to the elk horses.

In her room, Korra shrugged into clean clothes almost blindly, shivering all the way. She was halfway to a fever, if Asami’s experience with the northern rains had taught her anything. She pulled out her limp ponytail and combed it back with a hand as she yawned. When she was just about to fall into bed, Asami stopped her, lifting a hand to her still wet hair.

“You’ll catch a cold.”

“Damage is done,” Korra said, climbing in and pulling the covers up. Then her glance lingered over Asami, perching on the edge of the mattress, and she said, “Sleep here.”

Asami ignored her on both counts. Only when she turned away to the basin did she let a smile slip. She took one of the small towels folded beside the vanity, dropped it in the hot water that had been brought to Korra’s room and wrung it out.

Korra sighed when Asami drew the towel over her forehead and dabbed at her temples. A look of peace fell over her features, sleep coiling her limbs, tying them down such that she was perfectly, uncharacteristically still. Her eyes fluttered with the effort of staying open, their gaze on Asami intent yet undemanding. It felt like sitting for a portrait.

“Close your eyes,” Asami mumbled after a while. She pulled Korra’s hair away from her face and cupped the back of her neck with the towel between their skin.

“I don’t want to,” Korra said, quiet as a breath, crystal clear.

Asami sensed the open doorway on her back, feeling like she was held on a string between it and Korra’s gaze, as if the door had a pair of eyes too. She set the towel aside, felt Korra’s forehead, and put her knuckles to her cheek. Moments later Korra was asleep, the instant Asami’s fingertips touched her scalp, and before Asami’s eyes could water again.

They left while the sun was still high, although the rainclouds had been coming and going since morning. Korra went side-saddle behind Asami to spare her sore thighs, all the while regaling her with the tale of yesterday’s rescue. Korra hadn’t seen combat in a while, and though the situation didn’t come to blows, the fear had plagued her.

“I don’t miss it. I really don’t,” she said shortly. “I thought I did, for a while there.”

“Surprised?”

Asami couldn’t see her face, but she felt Korra’s contemplation in the tilt of her head against her shoulder.

The grotto, as Asami had been sure to commit to memory, was located near the origin of one of the tributaries to the river that they were following north. From the southern approach, they would need to cross the stream close to a fall. The song of the headwaters was loud, audible long before the narrow, broken channel came into view.

“It’s a good thing, you know,” Asami said eventually, in response to Korra’s musing. “Hey, all you need is your bending tourneys, someone to pummel once in a while. And enough time out on the land.”

Korra laughed appreciatively. “See, if you were in charge of my schedule, maybe I could swing with it. You wouldn’t have me on as tight a leash as Panak.”

“Well, I’d be tempted,” Asami retorted, since Korra was being indulgent. There was a point in their friendship, a day, ever since which this conversation had run in circles, simply because they were dancing around a different issue. Asami could confront that much now. No longer though; not after today, if she could help it.

“Small price,” Korra said cryptically. They dismounted now, preparing to cross the water on foot. Asami’s feet itched—Korra was right about how flat most of this region was. She relished the sound of the rapids above them, the burble of water over protrusions of gleaming black rock, slick under the sun.

“Be careful,” she warned, mindful of Korra’s stiff muscles. Korra swept her hair over her shoulder and gave her a sardonic look, hopping from boulder to boulder with finesse.

The dark mouth of the grotto was carved into the opposite shore. Korra, stumbling onto the bank, glanced back at her as Asami clinched her skirt carefully, gauging the leap from one particularly slippery rock to the next. Korra’s eyes on her twinkled teasingly and she ducked through the low entrance just as Asami reached the bank.

Asami swiped a hand on the wall as she caught her breath. It was dry, and the main chamber seemed surprisingly well lit, the sun at this hour slotting perfectly through the mouth. As she peeked through the entrance, Korra’s gasps of wonder reached her—little sounds that stamped all over her heart and made it bloom like a bruise. It was a sharp counterpoint to the sweeping sight that unfolded before Asami’s eyes: inside, the cavern sparkled like the night sky. The light danced off the gemstones, which adorned the walls in nameless colours. Her mouth fell open. If you could see the stars in daylight, she thought, it might have looked like this. She took slow steps, allowing her senses to feast. The flowstones beneath her feet scintillated like the ocean in sun.

“Have you ever gone hunting for crystals?” Asami said, listening for the thin echo of her voice.

Korra was stooping on a glittering slab, inspecting it, but she looked up at Asami eagerly now. “No.” Some urgency flickered briefly on her face, as if she had plans in mind that she was afraid Asami would deter her from. “Actually…I wanted to go up onto the bluff—it looked so peaceful, and I’m still beat.” She clapped the dust off her hands into puffs of cloud and hopped down from the rock. “I want to talk to you.”

“Sure.” Asami’s stomach swam at the words, but the cave pulled her feet too. There was something she wanted to do. The idea struck her from nowhere and she opened her mouth before it had fully formed, fingering the tools in her pocket through her skirt. “Don’t let me keep you. I wanna take a look around, and then I’ll meet you up there.”

There was a cool blue stone that had caught her eye, in a small hollow in the cave’s anterior wall. The way it poked in cylinders out of the feldspar made Asami think it was blue beryl, or perhaps it was just quartz. She made for it when Korra left, wondering if this was lunacy. Still, when she ran her finger along the deposit, gathering gem dust, she considered how much she’d need; and as she put her pick and chisel to it, cringing at the echoing bang, she wondered what she would make.

Korra wore plenty of metal on the regular but anything fancy was precious, the kind of precious that would have been mined an age before they were born.

A ring?

Asami liked that. It was a long time since she had put her skills to anything that fine. She had little of her own jewellery to offer, and in any case, she didn’t want Korra to have it. Blood jewels, as they might have been, bought with the future demise of hundreds across the continents. Korra was worth more than that. Perhaps she was too. And something Asami carved out of the rock herself—that was a legacy she could offer Korra proudly, probably more proudly than she could offer her own hand. That they could both cherish without reservation. Not something Asami had inherited, and not something Korra had either, for that matter.

Asami caught herself at the audacity of this enterprise and then shook it off in silence. She had brought a small pouch, but no cloths to clean the crystals. For now, her skirt would suffice. She brushed it off once she had wrapped up her new spoils and tucked them in her roomy skirt pocket.

There were crude steps behind the grotto that led to a verdant rise, the overhang from which the boulders had broken for untold centuries. The stream rushed noisily under it. There were probably pounds of this crystal stuck in its sediments, because if it was worth anything the cave would have been picked clean long ago, but whatever. It was the colour of Korra’s eyes. It was uncanny, actually.

Korra was near the edge, sitting still in the shade of an aged cypress that was the sole tree on the cliff. Only when Asami drew closer did she realise that she was meditating. It wasn’t the first time she had ever found Korra this way, but it was close. She was quiet today, reflective—Asami had chalked it up to the night’s ordeal. But the night’s ordeal, for Asami’s part at least, did also encompass a rattling revelation about her feelings for Korra.

“Ugh, my back is killing…”

A deep sigh recaptured Asami’s attention. Korra slackened her spine, stretched ferociously, and turned to her, patting the ground beside her. The air between them felt still and thick despite the swirling breeze. Asami sat. One moment, she willing to wager what would come next, and the next she was wavering—

“Did you find anything cool?”

Asami started and nodded, reaching for her velvet pouch. It was something to do in the moment. “Oh. I did, yeah. Look…”

Korra scooched over to the bag in Asami’s palms and peered in. Her hair slipped from behind her ear when she bowed her head to look. “Oh, wow. Beautiful! You would look so beautiful in these,” she said, a skittish laugh tangling in the last of her words before they managed to leave. A prod on the bruise in Asami’s chest, so sweet and piercing that it made her inhibitions melt momentarily.

“Actually, I was thinking of— that I could make something for you—” She tucked Korra’s hair away, enraptured, unthinking. Then they were gazing at each other, soundless and rigid. As Asami realised belatedly, both her mouth and her hands had been a little brazen.

Her heart took up a brand new rhythm. “But what did you wanna talk about?”

Korra got up to sit on her knees now, hand on her thighs. Asami noticed for the first time that she was barely tamping her energy. “I’m just going to be really blunt, okay?” She took a very sturdy breath, but her eyes were softening. “I’m yours, if you want me.”

Now the bruise in Asami’s chest was an open wound. She dropped the pouch and cupped Korra’s face with both hands.

“I’m yours whether you want me or not.”

Korra kissed one hand, and sought for the other with her own. Asami swallowed, her breath shallow, and then her words began to well like water from a spring.

“I love you, I think you know that. I guess I’m still not totally sure if I should say it, but… I have to. I love you so much. Do—you love me too, don’t you?”

She braced her hands just in time to catch herself as Korra surged for her. She kissed Asami before she knew what was happening; and Asami’s body, this body that Korra ran with a look, a word, could hardly bear her touch. She was on her back in the warm grass, Korra’s nose bumping hers, her mouth wet from her clumsy kiss. Asami freed one hand to take Korra’s shoulder and kissed her back deeply, her own brow knitting tight with focus, her chest bursting, so fervid that Korra’s own change of tone when she spoke didn’t surprise her a bit.

“I know you love me,” Korra said lowly—growled it, like she was pinning a resistant truth into place, or goading Asami, daring either of them to defy her. The words bristled, but the tenderness of her pitched brows and parted lips and tremulous voice made a plea of them, a plea for Asami to stay. Asami realised that if Korra sounded as though she was asking what Asami had already confessed, it was only because Asami’s words had undammed her, the break of a cloud that had been bowing and bucking with its own weight for too long. She relished the flood, seeing the same relief she felt mirrored on Korra’s face. It was just going to take a moment to wash over.

Korra scraped away the hair on Asami’s forehead with her fingers and touched her thumb to her face, the bridge and the tip of her nose. “Bet I love you more, though.”

Bets were off on that one. Korra’s eyes fell shut, her breath hot on Asami’s cheek. Asami cupped her like a blessing.

They opened again. This time, Korra regarded her with a certain patience, a stern glint in her eyes. Asami felt watched, the way she had last night. When Korra kissed her, she gently turned Asami’s face so that her lips met her cheek, jaw, neck. It was a lot. Asami held her close and bit away quivering sounds before they escaped her mouth. She ran her palms down Korra’s arms and beneath her knit sleeves, searching for the planes of her body, closing her eyes and seeing orange in the sunlight. As if they weren’t possibly close enough, Korra anchored her knees around Asami. She breathed deep and quick again, like a pretty faun in her arms, pressing, nosing; the sense of clarity about her scrambled again as soon as it had come.

“I need you,” Korra said lowly, taking Asami by the scruff so she could better plant her whole face in her neck.

Asami let a laugh whistle out between her sighs. “You make love in the bounty of nature, too? Wow.”

It made Korra stumble in her movements, bowing into Asami’s shoulder before she raised her head finally and giggled. “I didn’t mean—I just meant I need you.”

Lacing her fingers around Korra’s waist, Asami cleared her throat and collected her thoughts before she could succumb to her touch again. “Then Korra, what can I do? How can I help you have what you need?” She held her gaze entreatingly. “I can’t erase the past, and I know that’s going to be a problem. But anything else, you only have to name it.”

“Don’t leave.”

Right, Asami mouthed, her voice caught.

Korra gazed into her hands a little nervously. She stabbed her thumb into the other palm as she said, “And if you need me too, then don’t tell me or yourself that you don’t.”

Asami nodded and blinked skyward as a fresh swell of tears stung her eyes.

“Because you deserve everything you need, too. And you know that I can’t forgive you, because you never laid a finger on me.” Korra pried herself off Asami at last and sighed. “I’m kind of just a soldier. I’m not really sure how the blame is supposed to get parcelled out… What I do know is that whatever you did, you were under a terrible influence in your father. I care about what you do now, and anyone whose opinion I care to hear would know that’s what matters, too. We have to keep going, right? We have like this whole world waiting on us to build it.”

Asami smiled, unable to repress the urge to reach for her again. She settled for Korra’s hand, stroking her wrist, interlacing their fingers. “You’re very persuasive. Very sage.”

“Don’t make fun,” Korra said, becoming embarrassed at her own earnestness.

“I am not.” Asami pressed their joined hands to her chest. “I mean, I think you changed my life. You gave me something so important.” Everything they had done together—every adventure. “When I turned up in the city, I was running from the war. But I needed something to run to, not from.”

She could see that Korra was touched, enough to waver long on the response. So Asami continued, “It’s a blessing and I wish I didn’t resist it, but it just felt… selfish, I don’t know.” She shrugged.

“No,” Korra interjected, squeezing her hand. When Asami furrowed her brow at her, she explained, “I’m sorry. If I ever made you think you weren’t worth the trouble with all my dithering. I’m the one who can snap my fingers for basically anything and for some reason I was stuck on the drawbacks.”

Asami snorted, folding her legs aside. “You’re going to snap your fingers for me? How decadent… What kind of royal functionary do you take me for?”

A flush crept up Korra’s face, but there was also a twinge of something at once tentative and delirious as she said her next words. “What I mean is. I, um… I asked Lord Damir to go home after we got everyone out of hot water, poor guy, but I sent his herald on north. With a message relating to my prospects, like he was supposed to bring all along, you know.” Asami had no idea where this was going. “Nothing to do with Damir—” Korra tucked her hair behind her ear diffidently, a fascinating counterpoint to the audacity of her final words, which hurried out in a heady rush. “I told him to inform my parents that I was set on someone to marry, and I wouldn’t set foot again in Agna Qel’a until they agreed to my choice of suitor.”

Asami put a hand over her mouth as it fell, trying to parse every emotion Korra’s confession invoked, before her own laugh rang out over the rise. Korra joined her, looking defiant through her slight abashment.

“That’s—bold. You know, I see why you get on the council’s nerves.”

“Maybe it was crazy. And you know, I used to do things like that all the time? That’s how I got to Ember Island when I was sixteen, I basically held the crew hostage. I mean, they didn’t care, they needed a holiday. Panak cared though.”

“Well, it seems like you still do things like that.”

Korra gazed at her kindly. “You didn’t know me before. The war changed me. For the better, in a lot of ways, but I guess there are parts of the old me that I miss. Lately… sometimes I’ve been fighting the fact that I’m growing up, getting shaped up for succession, because I thought it would be the nail in her coffin. Of the old Korra, I mean.”

She gave Asami a startlingly vulnerable look that revealed lately to mean since I met you. Asami got the impression she hadn’t meant to wear it on her face, but Korra just shrugged it off and continued, “But it doesn’t have to be true. I just have to be smart about it.” Her brows flashed and she pinched Asami’s cheek. “And some things are worth bargaining for.” She bit back a bubbling laugh. “It’s diplomacy.”

Asami drank in her laughter. Then she exhaled giddily. “I hope you didn’t implicate me in your insolence. So who says I want to marry you?”

“Details,” Korra scoffed, rolling her eyes. She turned shy beneath the most sheepish laugh of the afternoon. “Nobody. I want it to be true. Is it true?”

Asami beckoned her into her arms, nudging her head into her shoulder. “Whatever you want. Didn’t I just tell you?” Korra had had some kind of epiphany, a much more productive one than hers. And the scale and speed of it had all but swept her own whims away, as Korra was wont to do. “You know, I’m actually kind of annoyed that I didn't get the chance to woo you. Make my case.”

Korra turned around in her arms. “I’m all ears…” Then she turned more serious, a protective grasp on Asami’s arm. “Well, you might still have to, just not to me. Let’s see how this goes.”

“Technically, your mom has got her wish.”

“You can tell her that!”

The northerly clouds were swallowing the sun once more. Asami hoped it wouldn’t rain, but they were better safe than sorry given Korra’s spent state. She was about to suggest they beat the clouds when Korra piped up again, breaking a long silence.

“Would you really do it?”

“Marry you, you mean?”

“And all of that. Leave. Be stuck in the north forever.”

Asami looked up through her lashes with sardonic eyes. “What, like you?”

“It’s not so bad when you’re there too.”

“You see. There you go.”

Korra ceded the point, pressed her lips together against the flush that spread at Asami’s words. As if to distract from it, she reached for Asami again, catching her cheek, then tugging on the ribbon in her hair to release it. She smiled mischievously as the wind immediately caught Asami’s hair up and buffeted it against her face.

“What was that for?” Asami said, scooping her hair away.

“So I can tie mine up,” Korra said. “I want to ride back. You can go behind this time.”

“If you’re sure.”

Asami could feel Korra’s pent up excitement, the thrum under her skin as all that she had set in motion rallied in her mind. Asami’s own head buzzed with possibility, and her body buzzed with Korra. She knew Korra needed a release, and no place was better for that than the back of an elk horse. As if on cue, she said—

“Do you want to go back already? Maybe we can go for a ride downstream. We can’t race with one horse, but we can run for the hell of it.”

So they went. First at a canter and then a full gallop, with the drizzle coming minutes in. Asami’s stallion cut through the air like a black blade, making short work of the quiet, sloping country that surrounded the river. They set an exhilarating rhythm and eventually Asami closed her eyes and focused on the wind whipping her ear. It was a racket, a wall of pure noise, yet she felt the most peaceful she had felt in days.

They were getting into more mountainous territory already, the hills coming like waves, cresting in moments. When the sun came out again, they decided they should stop for a meal. There was nothing for it but to ride until the nearest farmstead emerged into view.

“What’s the closest town? You grew up in the Earth Kingdom.”

Asami didn’t appreciate that. She harrumphed and planted her cheek back against Korra’s shoulder. “It’s a million miles and I left when I was still young. But we should be near Lake Saran, and there’s a meeting-town at the crossroads there. The gateway to the north and east, the Fire soldiers used to call it. Full of traders.” Asami remembered it well because the campaigns from the Fire Empire always got stuck there—they never stopped banging on her father’s door for greater stockpiles at Lake Saran. It marked the eastern border of the briefly occupied Earthen lands, before that whole venture was thwarted, eventually for good, by Water and Earth regiments from the north and east.

Korra’s lips pursed in thought. “Oh, I think I know it. I rode there once or twice to fight the Fire soldiers.”

“I rode there once with the convoy replenishing their arsenal. It was the first time I saw the war, first time I saw anything really,” Asami said ruefully, “probably the moment I started to question everything—though Dad said I’d be under lock and key if I didn’t get my nose out of the politics.”

She felt Korra tense briefly at those words, but they fell silent for a second in an overpowering mutual wonder. What if they had met in the middle of war—in the very midst of it? Would they, could they have even been friends?

Eventually, Korra gave an odd laugh layered with gentle awe, disquiet, regret and rumination all at once. “You know, I always wonder what you were like when you were younger. But maybe it’s for the best we didn’t meet under the circumstances. Anyway, maybe don’t mention Lake Saran when you talk to my parents.”

“They know. From when I first came, they asked me everything. I suppose they wanted to check there was nothing totally beyond the pale. I could tell it wasn’t easy for the King, but your mother, she said something like—if I held my daughter to everything she did at twenty, she might have a couple of treason charges on her hands, too.”

Korra stilled in a way that told Asami she was expecting any answer but that. “Wow,” she said eventually, clucking her tongue. “Comparing her own daughter to a Firesmith? Real low blow. What if I just kick you out now? In retaliation?”

“You are cutting me to the bone. Bear east so we can stick to the river,” Asami advised, laughingly. “We can’t be far.”

“I love you,” Korra said, as if to clear things up just in case.

The words caught Asami unawares and sent her a quiet thrill through her, almost like a scare in its own pleasant way. She tightened the arm around Korra’s waist.

The meeting-town was on a hill, impossible to miss. Some yards from the outer bounds, they came across a cadre of young sentries who stood to attention when they recognised Korra, exchanging goggling glances of wild alarm. Behind them, the roads of the small town zigzagged up over jagged limestone hills, open to the elements, offering glimpses of the blue lake beyond from between their heights.

Korra scanned their number, concern pinching her expression. “Has there been any trouble?” She asked, dismounting. “I haven’t come across a place under patrol since we arrived on the continent.”

“No, miss—your Majesty,” one of them answered. “We heard about a skirmish with bandits and Lord Damir getting hurt and the council here just wanted to keep things smooth, what with everyone passing through all day long.”

“I saved Lord Damir. You’ve got nothing to fear.” Korrra handed the reins to Asami, who stroked her horse’s muzzle to congratulate him for his excellent composure under unfamiliar hands. “Tell us, where can we go that can house this pretty boy?”

They found a lodge whose terrace offered the most lavish view over the lake, dock and surrounding peaks. The patrons were diverse, hardy and travel-worn—with a few tourists in the mix—and if they recognised Korra, she greeted them with grace. For most of them, their attention only came to Asami afterward, excited eyes settling into mild curiosity at the woman trailing the princess. You have a look, the girl at the wedding had said. She wondered what they thought their story was. Commoners of all provinces intermingled with ease, especially in a place like this, but the Northern Princess and an unknown Fire maiden, pulling one another along arm in arm—it must have been a stranger sight. Amongst traders from the far reaches of the continent and beyond, they located the highest concentration of Water folk they had seen since leaving. The eyes of the company lit up when they found Korra here, so far from home, and they answered her genuine interest in their work over honeyed beer. As it turned out, they needed to secure more distributors for their furs because a fashion was growing for them in the Fire Empire. There was to be a congress here in the evening to discuss contracts.

Out in the terrace, Korra and Asami shared a tall tower of dumplings and a basket of the last summer fruits. Korra told her even more about yesterday. Even though she hadn’t entirely recovered from the night’s exertions, the energy about her was still intact and vibrant. Asami realised it wouldn’t fade for as long as she was present.

“Rest for a bit,” Asami encouraged, after a surreptitious kiss on Korra’s shoulder as they lingered at the doorway of the saloon. “Not just you, my horse needs it after what you just put him through.”

She spoke to the hostess and acquired a key for one of the rooms upstairs. Korra followed her, always grazing at her elbow. Inside, with their boots on the mat in the corner, Asami lit the incense and opened the shutter for the afternoon mountain breeze; and while Korra poured the complimentary tea into beautiful glazed cups. It would sit forgotten minutes later when they found each other’s embrace again. Korra bounded onto the bed, settling in the throws. Asami followed.

She found Korra’s quicksand eyes and felt herself sink and sink without resistance, with no voice in her ear telling her to prise her desires from her obligations. She kissed Korra when she thought she might lose herself in those eyes, so that she would close them. Korra spooled Asami’s hair around one wrist and tugged at her collar with the other hand. She hummed through her charged caresses, locking and unlocking her legs around Asami’s as she fought to work off their cloaks and blouses, but her lips held fast. Asami broke their kiss to reach behind and unlace her bunched up skirt. They caught their breath and calibrated.

When they met again, hard, Korra’s moans vibrated her teeth and Asami thought of the magnets in her forge moving in lockstep. She felt it again, the same thrum under Korra’s skin, but impossibly strong now. The growing intensity in Korra’s searching fingertips—clinching, palming at the flesh of her sides and breasts and back—it felt like more than the shallow urgency of desire, like something distant and primordial shaking off its slumber. Lust coiled up long, seasons long, finally unwinding. Asami wanted to follow it home and learn it, tame it, satiate it, piece by piece. Her uncaged heart was clawing up her throat to get to Korra.

In her mind, she knew how to make it feel right. She would powder Korra with kisses and make sure to imbue each one with care and consideration enough to make it unimpeachable. But she wasn’t in her mind. There were ten thousand things Asami wanted to do with her, but her body led her brain, gormless.

“Can I, princess?” She murmured, hardly waiting for Korra’s response to lick her lips and latch them in the crook of her warm neck, before she ran her tongue along the dip between Korra’s breasts and rolled off her riding trousers. She held Korra’s thighs apart and found her all dewy and inviting, and the last of her resolve snapped like a bolt of lightning. She was powerless to do more than blindly angle her own hips and pull Korra’s into them. Korra made a throaty sound of relief as her body rippled under the touch of Asami’s. She clutched Asami’s hip to adjust her, almost involuntarily. The other splayed hand came to rest below Asami’s, fingers pressing into her collarbones.

“I’ve been aching for you,” Korra breathed, shuddering under her, as Asami shut her eyes and surrendered wholly to the sensation.

#**#korrasami #asfos #a fat ass chapter. its been a year since the last one D:#:D

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bebepac · 3 years

Text

Greek Meat: A Family Vacation Part 2 ⛱

This is Part two of the ongoing birthday series for @queenjilian , and I enjoy writing this so much. If you want to catch up on the whole saga that is Greek Meat Please click here: Greek Meat Masterlist

I am participating in @wackydrabbles prompt # 116 “I don’t believe you” which will be in bold.

The Book: TRH AU with no Royals

Pairings: Many pairings: Liam x Riley, Maxwell x F!OC , and many OC pairings.

Word Count: 1990

Warnings: Sexual innuendo, profanity.

Rating: PG

Liam, Riley, Leo, Maxwell belong to PB, Jilian, Aslan, and Christian belong to @queenjilian, and all others are my OC’s to help tell our story.

Song Inspiration to this episode: Say You Won’t Let Go by James Arthur.

I don’t own rights to the music or lyrics quoted below.

Summary: The couples compete in the sand castle competition. Taylor and Maxwell’s problems are revealed to the family. Ren and Jason decide to take care of all the kids for the evening so the couples can have a kids free night.

A/N: I just recently finished the series The Squid Game on netflix, and you will see a hilarious parody of it here, as Jason and Ren will be playing Red Light, Green Light with the children. I hope you guys enjoy this.

Original Post 10/16/21 at 8:10PM EST.

Jili and Liam both refused to answer to their names for the duration of the competition; they were instead known as being singular parts to comprise the collective known as ‘The Architects’ and they worked together like a well oiled machine. If team sand castle making was an Olympic sport, these two would be bringing the gold home for ‘Merica.

“I need more water!”

“I got you!”

Liam grabbed her bucket running to the ocean bringing Jilian back more water to help her complete her portion of the sand castle mountain they were skillfully creating. The two were almost anticipating what the other needed bringing more tools to aid and assist each other. They quickly made a sand structure that rivaled all the other teams that day on the beach.

Even after all those years Liam and Jilian really did work well as a team.

When they were satisfied with their sand castle mountain, Liam and Jili once again did their secret hand shake and ended with them back to back sliding their sunglasses on at the same time.

“The Architects are Done!”

“I really wish we would have thought of this Ren, you really can’t make this up! Team names, and secret handshakes?” Jason cajoled, nudging Ren.

“They’re having fun, they just don’t know how crazy they look.”

Team Rico composed of Riley and Nico had the heart of champion sand castle builder extraordinaires but unfortunately lacked the skill and precision to properly build a sand castle.

“Come on Riley! Channel your inner kid. Lilo could have this done in no time. What did we do at the beach every year?” Jaiden screamed.

“Um body surfed, jumped waves, flirted with the cute pogues, none of that is helping me out right now.”

Nico laughed, shaking his head at Riley.

“We’ll get something put together, might not win us anything, but we’ll finish this strong…”

Nico commented as the side wall of their castle collapsed.

“Okay let me rephrase that, it will be a strong-ish finish. Meaning not last.”

“I’m okay with not last.”

“Let’s do this then. Team Not Last.”

Taylor and Maxwell couldn’t even get a basic concept even started for their sand castle. They refused to work together, more like Taylor refused, and it looked like they were building two separate structures.

“Taylor, you're taking my sand.”

“You’re taking my soul but do you see me bitching? Nope.”

“Can we not do this right now? The kids are watching us Taylor.”

Taylor took a deep cleansing breath.

“Fine. Maxwell, have you glanced around us? We’re surrounded by sand. You’ll. Be. Just. Fine.” Taylor hissed.

They both continued working in painful silence. Everyone could now tell, there was something seriously wrong with the pair that used to be the most in love and adorable couple.

When it came time to be judged, the winner was The Architects that reclaimed their victory.

Liam and Jili stood on the podium, holding up their medals.

“Is someone going to play the national anthem?”

“This isn’t the Olympics Liam!” Riley screamed from the sand.

“Are you sure, because we got the Gold Baby!!!!” Jili screamed high fiving Liam.

“We can’t take them anywhere can we Nico?”

“Nope, doesn’t look like it, but hey we love them right? It’s part of their charm.”

“It really is Nico.”

Jason and Ren seeing the display between Taylor and Maxwell decided that tonight would be the night they would offer the adults only night to the parents.

The couples met for a few minutes before they started getting dressed.

“So I looked at what this place has going on in the realm of nightlife. There's a little place called the Sand Bar. They have booze and karaoke, it’s about the best we’re going to do out here. It’s just a short walk into town.”

“Um, I’m not walking to the bar in my hooker shoes, looking like a lady of the evening.”

“What Riley said.” Bebe and Jili nodded in agreement.

“I’m wearing flip flops tonight. Who still has hooker shoes?”

All the other women raised their hands.

Taylor scoffed. "I don't believe you."

“And that’s why you and your man are having problems right now. You need to whore it up for him every once in a while. I’m sorry did I say that out loud?” Riley asked.

Jaiden winced. “Brutally honest sis.”

“But…..technically not untrue.” Nico commented. “And before you ladies come at me with your guns blazing, that's a two way street. I know what my lady likes on me, or doesn’t like on me.”

Nico winked at Jili and she giggled.

The look on Taylor’s face was priceless.

Leo cleared his throat changing the subject.

“Anyway, It’s like an island block from here.”

“Makes sense to me.”

Bebe rolled her eyes. Tera’s opinion didn’t matter. Liam picked up where Bebe’s eyeroll left off.

“What the hell does that even mean? I’ve heard of city blocks, but island blocks?” Liam asked. “We’re going to order a RideShare XL or a party bus or some shit. Our luscious ladies aren’t walking anywhere but into the bar, and to the tables.”

“Okay we’ll be ready to leave at 7 we’ll do dinner first at the Oceanic across the way then The Sand Bar for booze and entertainment.”

Maxwell and Taylor

Taylor rummaged through her suitcase, after not finding what she knew she didn’t pack in the first place, she sat on the bed in a huff.

“Don’t worry about what they said Taylor.” Maxwell gently consoled her.

“I didn’t pack anything like any of them are planning to wear out tonight. I didn't even think about it."

“I know, it’s not a big deal.”

“Yes it is!!!! Do you think I let myself go, Maxwell?”

“NO! You’re beautiful no matter what you’re wearing. When I met you, you were wearing denim shorts, a white tank top, and those red converse . I still thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“Max….. you remember what I was wearing when we met?”

Maxwell’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course I do, because I love us. We can fix us Tay.. Because I know, I believe you still love us too. We're great together.”

They took steps towards each other.

“Taylor please….”

"Max…. I….."

The loud obnoxious knocking on the door abruptly ruined the moment they were having.

“Open the door, it’s your hooker fairy godmother.”

Taylor opened the door to see Riley holding a sexy black dress and sparkly heels.

“You’re coming with me. And… You’re welcome.” Riley peeped her head in the door at Maxwell.

Before Taylor could protest, Riley grabbed Taylor’s arm pulling her out of the room.

“Where are we going?”

“To get ready in Sexy Mom Town, these boys aren't gonna know what hit them!”

Okay sexy mom town wasn’t exactly what Taylor was thinking about, and it was definitely not like her early 20’s getting ready for a night on the town. There was a lot of concealer,contouring and all kinds of Spanx. But it made her feel a part of something, and she hadn’t felt like anyone but Marcus and Luna’s mom in so long.

Everyone was wearing a short dress but Bebe.

“Girl, what's with the long dress?”

“I know what my man likes, and he will love this dress. It’s tight in the booty and you see all these buttons? You can vary the levels of slut-tocity with this dress.” Bebe undid a few of the buttons, causing her side slit to go higher up her leg.

“Slut-tocity? Is that a real thing?”

“It’s a very real thing.”

Jason, Ren and all the kids

“So I figure we’ll grill hamburgers and hot dogs for them, and do a movie. What do you think?”

“That sounds great.”

“Or better yet, Let’s play a game with them out in the yard first. I have an idea.”

Jason came back with a larger than life water gun.

“All you kids line up, we’re going to play a game.”

The kids lined up across the lawn listening to their grandfather.

“We’re going to play Red Light, Green Light. When Granna says green light you run, but when Granna says red light you stop. I’ll be watching you. If I shoot you with the water gun that means you didn’t freeze, and you’re out. And you have to die too!”

“Are we about to play the Squid Game with our grandchildren Jason? And you just told them they had to die if they got shot too?”

“Yep. Grandparents of the year we are. If only they had green track suits I think we'd go viral with a video of what we're about to do.”

“Alrighty. Let’s do this. Does everyone understand the rules?”

“Yes!” the children screamed.

“Good." Jason pumped the water gun. "Let it begin!!!!"

"Green Light!" Ren paused for a few seconds before screaming "RED LIGHT!"

Jason cocked his water gun aiming at Jaiden Jr and shot.

JJ was the first casualty of the Brooks Family Squid games.

After three rounds the yard was starting to look like a crime scene, with children laying in the yard when Kai grabbed Elodie as she slipped, both freezing at Ren's scream of "RED LIGHT!"

"We have our ALI!" Jason screamed.

They continued to play and the final winners of the game were Kai and Elodie.

"That was fun!" Jason laughed, resting the water gun at his side.

"Kids get up! Let's go back in the house."

The kids that had lost the first round of the Brooks Family Squid Games sprang back to life.

“JJ do you want a hamburger or a hot dog?”

“Both!”

“Where does this kid put all that food?”

Ren smiled. "He's the most like Jaiden by far. Are you really surprised Jason?"

"When the Mommies come downstairs, cheer really loud for them kids."

"You two be good for Granna and Pop Pop. I mean it." Liam commented with a hint of sterness to his voice.

"Yes Daddy." Both girls chimed in unison.

The husbands waited patiently for their wives, and finally they heard the clicking of heels.

"Trot out the ladies!" Leo screamed. The kids cheered as they walked into the room, both the guys and the ladies had paid extra close attention to Taylor and Maxwell.

Maxwell's eyes went wide as his eyes traveled down Taylor's body.

"You look really beautiful."

A little flush of pink crossed Taylor’s cheeks.

“Thank you. You look good. You look like a cop but you look good."

"That would be my fault."

"Does the outfit come with handcuffs?"

Max raised an eyebrow.

"Yes." Nico replied.

"But for recreational use?"

"Also yes." Jilian winked at Taylor.

Is Taylor flirting with me? Maxwell thought.

“Our ride is here!”

A stretch humvee was parked in the yard for them.

“Hell yes, this is how I was supposed to live, like a Queen.” Riley said, sipping champagne.

“You’re my Queen.” Liam kissed Riley’s cheek.

Karaoke Time

"So who's going first?"

"Not until I get a few rounds in."

"I don't need alcohol to do this, I'm going first."

After a few minutes Maxwell was called to the stage.

"This one is for my wife, who truly is my better half. I'd be lost without her."

Chins dropped as Maxwell sang to Taylor. The group smiled as Taylor inched closer to the stage.

I wanna live with you

Even when we're ghosts

'Cause you were always there for me when I needed you most

I'm gonna love you 'til

My lungs give out

I promise 'til death we part like in our vows

So I wrote this song for you, now everybody knows

That it's just you and me 'til we're grey and old

Just say you won't let go

Taylor walked up on stage, tears filling her eyes.

"Max, I won't let go."

Max dropped the mic, and pulled Taylor close, kissing her.

#bebepac writes #greek meat #family vacation #wacky drabbles #trh fanfic #trh fandom #play choices #liam x riley #maxwell x taylor #jilian x nico #jaiden x bebe #squid game #parody

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rosebloodcat · 2 years

Text

Some Ni no Kuni 2 crossover ideas

I tried to find some fun crossovers to read for Ni no Kuni 2, but I was sad to find that there really weren’t that any out there.

But I have no brain for writing (and am trying to keep myself working on a different story) so I’m going to share the ideas that have been swirling around in the back of my head on here and on Ao3. Let other people have the fun of bring them to life.

So, if you see any on here that you like/want to try, go ahead and take them! (Also, I’ll probably be breaking this up into separate posts if I think it’s getting too long.)

Ni no Kuni 2 x Wolfwalkers: Roland as a wolf walker whose magic was damaged and hadn't been able to use it for a long time. (It's been healed/is healing while in Kuni) He uses the limited magic he does have access to help Even and his fledgling kingdom.

~ Roland can’t/doesn’t turn into a wolf when he sleeps, but he can call on some of the heightened senses while human. (He uses them during the escapes and to look out for monsters. Does a good job of preventing ambushes that way.)

~ He can force his wolf to appear in a panic/do or die situation, but it’s more glowing and spectral than solid and can only be present for a few minutes at most. His human body immediately collapses while the wolf is separate and he’s drained/exhausted when he wakes again.

~ Healing minor wounds is doable but it quickly exhausts him. And if he tries to force his magic to heal someone, it’ll have a backlash effect on him. (basically, if he tries to heal a serious injury, he’ll end up injured.)

~ He’s a little wolfy, when he feels like it. Sniffs with his nose, growls when annoyed (and not trying to hide it), huffs when he’s amused, etc.

~ Is also a little amused when it dawns on him that he’s a wolf (big dog) and protecting a Cat-child King.

Ni no Kuni 2 x Harry Potter: Reincarnation AU in HP with Roland as a jilted Harry who's left to build his own life and stumbled into his past lives' friends.

(Look, JKR sucks, but I love the sand box she put out and will gleefully tell canon to shove it while I play there.)

~ (Possibly also have Roland/Harry be not-fully-human?) Roland/Harry lost their magic after an accident/student-sabotage-gone-way-wrong in 4th year, he lost his magic and was basically tossed out by the Wizarding World.

~ Someone tried to sabotage him by keeping him from getting to either the first or second task. Possibly stunned him and locked him somewhere in the castle to keep him from getting their in time. The Hogwarts students seem spiteful enough that I can see someone doing it. Especially an older year who thinks bad of Harry already due to all the questionable things that surround him anyway.

~ Maybe something like Dumbledore favoring him and letting him cheat/be an exception to let Gryffindor be top dog in the school, or that he’d OBVIOUSLY cheated to join and SOMETHING needed to be done since the teachers weren’t doing anything about it, or something else along those lines. And, obviously, they have no idea what the cost for not participating in the Tournament is. (I mean, it never gets brought up in the book/movie. They just say that Harry HAS to participate and he can’t drop out.)

~ The cost was his magic, but thankfully not his life since he WAS entered against his will. He’s not a big fan of them, even though his magic has started coming back. (Or it had been replaced by some kind on non-human inheritance followed several years later by his magic coming back.)

~ Mostly avoids WW and its issues. Just trying to live his (new) life without their drama messing it up.

~ Dadland definitely shows up at some point. Circumstances are still unknown, but it shows up at some point.

~ The not-fully human thing could be an irony-based idea, especially if the not-human Kuni members ARE human in this life.

Ni no Kuni 2 x Katekyo Hitman Reborn: Roland is from KHR-verse, specifically as a Latent but in-the-know when sent to Kuni.

~ He pegs Evan as a Latent Sky (possibly) and starts following him because of that. (Doesn’t think he’ll Harmonize, but he wants to keep the little sky-kitten safe anyways)

~ I wanna say Roland is either a Sun (for his “Sunny” personality), a Cloud (ready to throw down and tough as nails to beat, but also not as wild as a Storn), or a Mist (because that pecker is a politician and that requires being able to bend the truth like it’s a rubber straw).

Alternative for this one: Incarnation Katekyo Hitman Reborn, all their drama is involved but not central to KHR story. (No thoughts on this one. Just that this would be a kind of reverse-world situation of the other KHR fic.)

I have more, but the next/other one is more than a bit longer than these and I feel it deserves it’s own post because of that.

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samstree · 3 years

Text

🍂 Long Stories (>1k) 🍂

my sunlight, sunlight, sunlight (4/4, 12k)

Jaskier leaves, so he can one day return. At the same time, Geralt learns to do better.

Caesura (1.5k)

A curse, a cure, a bard who forgets, and an overly careful witcher.

See Clearer (1.7k)

A lesson in self-love.

The Dizzying Height (1.3k)

Geralt is taken apart wearing a blindfold. [explicit]

Rhyming Scheme (2k)

Geralt wakes up to find Jaskier in heat. If only Jaskier would stop chattering while Geralt is trying to take care of him. [explicit]

Keeper of Hearts (5.3k)

Destiny has one more surprise for Geralt after all these years. It comes in the form of a soulbond and well-hidden heartache from the past.

Light, Onward (5.5k)

When Jaskier is troubled with nightmares, Geralt tries to distract him. Luckily, the mountains of Kaer Morhen has a few more surprises for them.

A Debt Paid (2.9k)

A flower is saved by a child with a palmful of water. He returns the favor with a lifetime's tears.

A Friend in the Wild (1.7k)

Geralt acquires a tiny friend who wouldn't stop following him.

Lessons and Learnings (1.3k)

Jaskier teaches Geralt the art of courting. It’s all about paying attention to details, really, except he may be missing a few details himself.

Hug a Witcher Day (4/4, 14k)

Jaskier writes a new song ‘Hug a Witcher Day.’ It gains insane popularity and Geralt finds himself hugged by random strangers on one day every year.

of springs and separations (2.1k)

Geralt dreams of waking up next to Jaskier months after being separated from him. Or so he thinks.

The Tickler’s Conundrum (2k)

Jaskier finds something interesting about Geralt. They have a conversation about it.

Once Alight (1.7k)

Jaskier comes to a realization during dinner.

In Plain Sight (1.2k)

An act is over, but someone wishes it wasn't.

The Bloodied and the Brave (4.4k)

After rescuing Jaskier, Geralt now has to deal with his heat. [explicit]

Be Here (2k)

Geralt notices something in a few steps.

A Moment Between (1.1k)

Geralt apologizes again.

Traces in the Sand (7.3k)

Jaskier goes to the coast with a piece of himself missing. Geralt is there to remind him. [explicit]

Like an Autumn Breeze (2.7k)

Love comes to Jaskier on a fine autumn evening and, against all odds, never leaves.

Trick of the Light (1.1k)

Jaskier doesn’t deal with the long winter nights very well.

Too Much, Too Little (3.8k)

There’s a beast living under Geralt’s skin. It wants too much and too little at the same time.

A Study in Blushing (3k)

Jaskier makes a surprising discovery and decides to test it out.

splash of the waves, and the sand castle crumbles (2/?, 11k)

Fairy tale AU with Prince!Jaskier. In which Geralt finds himself drawn to a prince, but war also looms on the horizon. Can a witcher find his happily ever after?

Mend What Is Bound to Break (1k)

Jaskier is angry, and Geralt tries his best. Some heartache is just unavoidable.

In the Knowing (1.1k)

Geralt tries to say three simple words. Jaskier, sleepy and feverish, keeps interrupting him.

Creatures of the Night (4/?, 4.8k)

After the mountain, Geralt finds Jaskier too late. The bard is already with someone else and engaged to marry.

Lean on me (1.4k)

An injured Jaskier is a stubborn idiot. Geralt is there for him.

Trapped (1.3k)

Nursing a broken heart, Jaskier tries to get away from an unwanted pursuer. Luckily, his witcher is right there to play the hero.

The One with the Coastal Customs (1.8k)

They agree to keep their newly developing relationship a secret for a while. Oops, Jaskier accidentally kiss Geralt goodbye in front the whole Kaer Morhen gang. Now He has to kiss everyone else too.

Will you be gone again? (1.3k)

In which Geralt is high as a kite. Jaskier is worried. And Lambert sees through it all.

Four times Geralt wakes up his bard with kisses (5/5, 3.8k)

...and the other time when Jaskier returns the favor. A collection of smooches with fluff (and feelings).

Snowball Effect (2.3k)

When Geralt hurts Jaskier by accident, he goes on a downward spiral, and Jaskier is there to keep him steady.

Press your hands upon my heart (2.1k)

Geralt loves Jaskier’s hands. A one-shot about recovery of hand injury, featuring a hurt Jaskier and Geralt’s feelings.

A Winterday Discovery (1.2k)

Geralt is only trying to read a book while Jaskier is curled up next to him. They discover that the bard is unusually sensitive in certain places.

Played Out (1k)

A grand revelation happens on an ordinary movie night when Geralt gets scared of a horror movie.

Change as the Sea (1k)

Mer!Jaskier. Every year Geralt travels to the coast to pick up the merman, but this year Jaskier does not show up.

A glimmer of dawn (1.1k)

Geralt breaks his legs on a hunt and is high on pain killers. He wakes up loopy and disoriented. Luckily, Jaskier is there to ground him.

Breathe in, breath out (1.3k)

Jaskier cannot sleep because of a lung infection, and Geralt sits with him. They share some gentle words and touches.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #my masterlist #my new masterlist

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bonnyskies · 4 years

Text

come back to me [sixteen] ⇢ jjk

you’re willing to do anything to save your marriage, even if that meant you’d have to sacrifice your own happiness to do so.

pairing — husband!jungkook x malereader, ft. ceo!jaehyun

genre — angst, sexual themes, idol au, exes to lovers-ish au, open relationship au, marriage au, parents au

series warnings — infidelity (kinda?), swearing, bisexual!jungkook, jealous!jungkook, insecure!reader, unhealthy relationship, unrequited love-ish, slow burn, use of alcohol, mentions of divorce problems, (more could be added in future chapters)

word count — 3k

author’s note — this is the last chapter of the hawaii storyline, everybody.

masterlist

“Oh my god, you two kissed—mhm!”

Aerum’s words were muffled from your hand over her mouth. “Can you shut up, please?” You hushed her, eyes darting over at Jungkook who was seated on the sand beside Minho, both building a castle nearly six feet away. “Why are flipping out? It was just a kiss, not a big deal...”

“Just a kiss?” Aerum mumbled questioningly through your hand. “When was the last time you two even kissed each other—a year?”

And when you didn’t reply, that was enough. “So yes, you two kissing is a big deal.”

“So what happened after that?” She continues to ask, the question making you fidget the hem of your swim shirt.

“Nothing,” you answered bluntly. “We just went to bed afterwards—separate beds,” you quickly added, noticing your cousin’s raised brow.

“Oh, really?” Aerum smirked, “So underneath your swim shirt I won’t find marks all over your body, right?”

You shook your head, “Nope.”

You weren’t lying exactly, but you also weren’t telling the full truth. The truth was, is that you and Jungkook almost did go all the way last night.

The memories you two reconnecting your lips and him carrying you to the living room’s couch filled your mind. His shirt discarded on the floor, revealing his toned torso and his hands running along your still fully clothed body while one of your own hands was shoved down his pants, pumping his long, thick—

Stop {Name}, your mind scolded.

If Minho hadn’t woken up and called out for you from your bedroom, you and Jungkook surely would have “done the deed” right on the living room’s couch.

“So, you guys didn’t talk about what you two want after kissing?” More and more questions continued coming out Aerum’s mouth, tearing you out of your thoughts. “Are you two back together then? Is he moving back in with you?”

You shook your head again. “I don’t know.”

“Are you going to talk to him it?”

You stayed silent at first. “It’s not like I don’t want to, it’s just ever since last night me and Jungkook haven’t had any alone time together. This morning we had breakfast with Minho, and right after that my eomma showed up asking if we wanted to go to the beach.”

“Well why don’t you talk to him now?” She asks.

“Because he’s playing with Minho,” you point where they were still building their sandcastle. “They’re busy right now—”

“Hey.”

At the sound of Jungkook’s voice, you and Aerum turned to see him running towards you two, blushing immediately creeping on your cheeks at the sight of his muscular torso.

“Hey,” you replied back softly, lowering your head to hide your flustered expression.

Jungkook grinned, fully aware of your flushed cheeks. “Minho wants some shave ice, do you two want anything?”

“He’ll go with you!” Aerum answers for you, flashing you a quick wink and smile before turning back towards Jungkook. “I’ll go help Minho finish his castle while you two get the shave ice—I want cherry, please.”

Before you could say anything else, she was already walking away and going towards Minho, leaving you and Jungkook alone with each other.

“Alright, let’s go.” He spoke up, eyeing you for a brief moment until you gave him a small nod.

The two of you walking alone together was quite awkward, and tense. But it wasn’t the same atmosphere you two shared in the past. No, it was more like “first-date jitters” instead of “i don’t want to be near this person” kind of feeling.

Occasionally, while walking you would feel Jungkook brush his hand up against yours and on instinct, you would retract yours and keep it firm by your side. You could see the frown that would form on his lips, but you couldn’t help yourself. Ever since last night you felt anxious around him, as if you two were meeting each other again for the first time.

When getting to the stand, you stayed behind Jungkook while he ordered, keeping your eyes focused on the ground until he spoke up, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Hey, what kind of flavor of shave ice do you want?”

“Strawberry, please.” You answered in barely under a whisper, but still loud enough for him to hear.

“—and two strawberries.”

After paying for the shave ice, you and Jungkook began to head back to where your guys’ beach chairs were, which was near where Minho and Aerum are right now. But this time, instead of rushing back you two were taking your time, not wanting to risk dropping any of the shave ices.

“Minho buddy, your shave ice is here!” Jungkook shouted, an instant smile growing on your son’s face as he ran over you two and took both his and Aerum’s shave ice out of your hands, saying a quick “thank you” before going back to his sand castle where your cousin was waiting for him.

You and Jungkook then took your seats beside each other, which happened to be only a couple inches apart. Taking your first bite, your eyes darted towards him, staring at him as he ate his shave ice and watched Minho attempt to build his sandcastle while eating.

Noticing your staring, Jungkook spoke up. “Yes?”

Your eyes widened, “W-What?”

“You’re staring at me.”

“S-Sorry,” you quickly apologized, lowering your head to hide the blush on your cheeks and shoving a spoonful of your shave ice into your mouth.

Jungkook sighed, lowering his cup from his mouth and turning towards you, concern clear in his eyes. “Are you alright?”

When you nodded, still refusing to meet his gaze, Jungkook continued. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Again, you only nodded.

After a brief silence, Jungkook spoke up again. “I’m sorry for kissing you last night. I shouldn’t have done that, it was wrong for me to do—”

“No, it’s not that!” You quickly interrupted him, eyes wide with panic.

Jungkook stared at you confusingly. “Then, what’s wrong?”

He was positive that what happened last night was the reason for your change in behavior, but perhaps he was wrong.

“The kiss was fine—great even,” you started, “—but what we did after, was wrong. We were moving pretty fast last night and that shouldn’t have happened.”

Jungkook nodded, keeping his head low. “Okay.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to give us another chance because I do,” you quickly add, noticing his expression change. “But we can’t go back to how it was before, at least not now. It’ll take some time until our relationship returns to the way to used to be, ya know?”

“I understand...”

Noticing his frowning expression, you spoke up. “Are you okay with that?”

Jungkook eyes widened and instantly nodded. “Y-Yes, yes! I don’t care if it takes the rest of our lives, I’ll prove to you that I’m worthy to be your husband again.”

You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter by his words, a smile creeping onto your lips.

You had no idea why you agreed to this.

Since it was everyone’s last day in Hawaii, Aerum and your other cousins decided to have one last get together while your mother and her siblings—your grandmothers went to do something else as well.

So that’s how you ended up in this situation, hanging out on the hotel’s roof with Jungkook and your cousins, playing a naughty version of “Never Have I Ever” together.

“Don’t you think we’re kind of too old to be playing this type of game?” You ask, trying to persuade at least some of your family members out of it.

“Not the way we’re going to be playing it,” one of your cousins stated, smirking.

“Come on, {Name}. It’ll be fun,” your cousin, Eunae reassured you while handing you a beer.

You hesitantly took it, turning your head to Jungkook who was sitting right beside you also accepting a beer from one of your cousins. You didn’t say anything this time, only leaning back against your chair and feeling Jungkook’s other arm brush up against your back from behind your chair.

Jungkook tensed when feeling your back resting against his arm. Not knowing whether or not he was crossing a line, he attempted to pull his arm away but was stopped by your other hand wrapping around his wrist, keeping his arm in place around your shoulders. He glanced down at you for assurance, and when you nodded, he smiled. He even tightened his arm around you and pulled you closer to his body to where your side was nearly pressed up against his.

“Okay, who wants to go first?”

“I’ll go first,” one of your cousins volunteered. “Never have I ever, had sex before marriage.”

You nearly choked on first question while most of your cousins already drank to it.

Already jumping into personal sex questions? Your mind gasped. Not even bothering to have any warm up ones first or anything?

But nonetheless, you took a sip of your beer, along with Jungkook.

“That one was so boring,” one of your other cousins, Sungho complained, taking another gulp of his beer.

“Well, why don’t you try then asshole?”

“I will,” he then scoffed playfully before saying, “Never have I ever, had sex when there were friends around.”

You and Jungkook shared a glance before taking another sip, the brief memory flashing through your mind.

Jungkook just got back from a three month long tour and he couldn’t wait to have you. Despite his hyungs being in the dorms as well, he didn’t hesitate to take you to his room and show you just how much he had missed you while being away.

“Alright, me next.” Eunae then spoke up. “Never have I ever, had sex when there were family members around.”

Again, you and Jungkook drank.

“Oh my god,” Aerum gasps. “When?”

“Which time?” Jungkook teases, making you blush and nudge his side, causing him to glance at you with a small smirk on his lips. “What, I’m just wondering which specific moment she wanted to know.”

“They have a kid, darling.” Derek then mentions, arm tight around your cousin’s waist. “That’s what he meant—”

Jungkook interrupts him, continuing to tease. “Oh, I’m not talking about Minho...”

“S-Stop,” you couldn’t help but chuckle, the amount of blush on your cheeks growing even more.

Noticing your flushed expression, Jungkook bent down and pressed lips against your head, a gesture he did whenever trying to sooth or calm you down. He wasn’t even aware of himself doing it, it was just something that he was so used to doing that it became a habit, an instinct whenever he knew you were either feeling nervous, embarrassed, or even stressed.

“Alright, how about we move on—” Derek tried to say but Sungho cut him off. “No, I’ve got to hear this.”

“You’re disgusting, Sungho.” One of your cousins scoffed while at the same time Aerum said, “No, he’s right. Let’s continue, please.”

“Okay,” Sungho frowned. “Who’s next?”

More and more questions continued to pile in, and they got even more specific, more vulgar. You were grateful that your mother decided to take Minho with her, because there was no way you would allow him to hear all this.

“Never have I ever, had sex in front of any friends or family.”

“Never have I ever, been part of a threesome.”

“Never have I ever, had sex in public.”

“Never have I ever, performed a striptease for my boyfriend or girlfriend.”

“Never have I ever, had sex in car.”

“Never have I ever, joined the mile high club.”

After nearly two dozen questions, you and Jungkook were already on your third bottle of beer while everyone else was still on their first.

“Damn {Name},” Sungho cheered. “Never knew my baby cousin was such an exhibitionist!”

“Gross, Sungho.” Eunae rolled her eyes.

Derek then added, “I also didn’t expect BTS’s golden maknae to be quite a—thrilling person too.”

Jungkook chuckled, “I guess I just needed the right person to bring that side of me out.”

Jungkook found himself glancing down at his shoulder, which where your head was resting at with your eyes closed. “The right person,” he found himself mumbling to himself against your head before pressing another kiss to your scalp. “I should get him to bed, it’s late.”

“Okay, goodnight.” Aerum smiles softly as she watches Jungkook stand up and lift you up into his arms, and began to carry you back to your hotel room. “Oh, and we’re all having breakfast together tomorrow morning before going to the airport.”

Jungkook only hummed in reply before leaving.

Bringing you back to your guys’ hotel room was quite the hassle—and it wasn’t because of your weight, Jungkook never had a problem with that. It was just because while he was carrying you, he himself was slightly buzzed and that made him have some trouble walking down the narrow hallways with you in his arms.

When actually getting into the room and placing you onto your bed, Jungkook nearly forgot how drunk you operates.

Drunk you is really flirty, and quite touchy. Completely different than the normal you that Jungkook fell in love with—but he also wasn’t complaining because this side of you is a complete turn on for him.

“Jungkookie,” your words came slurring out. “Can you sleep with me please,” with your arms still around his neck, you ask.

“You’re drunk, {Name}.” Jungkook tried to pry your arms off of him, but you kept a strong grip on him. “And remember what you said to me back on the beach, we’re taking things slow.”

You groaned loudly, pulling Jungkook down to where his body was now laying ontop of yours. But luckily, he stopped himself from crushing you by resting his arms on both sides of your head, supporting his weight above you.

“Forget what I said,” you whined. “I want you.”

Jungkook swore he felt himself instantly harden underneath his pants from your words. But he couldn’t give into temptation, not when you were finally giving him a second chance, his last chance. “{Name} stop, you’re drunk—”

“When has that stopped you before?” You cut him off with seductive grin on your face, hands moving from their place on the back of his neck to sliding down his clothed torso and stopping at his belt. “Remember all the times we fucked when I was drunk—”

“That was different.” Jungkook stated, standing up from the bed and grasping your hands with his large ones, forcing them down by your sides. “We were a couple at the time, and I was drunk as well during those moments.”

“But please,” you continued to whine, shifting yourself onto your knees so that you were eye level with him. You slipped your hand from his grip and cupped his cheek, slowly bringing him down to meet your lips.

Jungkook instantly melted into your touch, hands resting on your waist as he kissed back, pulling you close against his chest. But that’s all he did to you—kiss you. The moment you two needed air, he was the first to pull away and used his hands on your waist to keep you within arms reach. “We can’t, {Name}.”

You pouted. Just as you were about to argue, the sound of someone knocking cut you off.

“That must be your eomeoni with Minho.” Jungkook guessed, moving his hands from your waist to your shoulders and forcing you to lie down on the bed. “I’ll go get him, just rest, please?”

He didn’t wait for your reply before leaving.

You frowned, but obeyed nonetheless, laying your head down onto pillow and closing your eyes, letting darkness slowly surround you.

Jungkook rushed to the door and opened it, instantly being greeted by your mother with a sleeping Minho in her arms. “Hey eomeoni. How was he?”

“Oh he was good, as always.” She answered, gently handing Minho over to him. “How about you, how was tonight?”

“It was good, fun.” Jungkook shifted Minho so that his son’s head was now on his shoulders. “{Name}’s already asleep.”

Your mother laughed, “He’s such a lightweight.”

Jungkook also chuckled. Tell me about it.

“Well, I should go and let you get some sleep.” Your mother bowed, and just as she was about to leave Jungkook called out for her, making her stop and turn to face him.

“Thank you, eomeoni.” Jungkook said softly, also bowing his head, but not as a farewell like her but as a sign of gratitude. “For everything. If it weren’t you, I’m afraid nothing would’ve changed between me and {Name}.” With his head hung low, he continued. “We would’ve gotten our divorce and—” he paused, feeling his eyes begin to stings. “—just, thank you.”

Your mother smiled, “No problem, sweetheart. Just don’t waste this second chance, okay?”

Jungkook nodded vigorously. “I-I won’t, eomeoni, I won’t.”

Your mother gazed at him one last time before leaving, closing the door behind her.

After changing Minho into his pajamas, Jungkook then carried him to your room which is when his eyes landed on your sleeping figure. He quietly walked over and gently laid him down, pressing a delicate kiss on his forehead before silently making his way out of the room.

Just as he was about to step outside, he then heard a quiet “appa,” making him turn around and see Minho awake, eyes barely open. “Can you sleep with me, please?”

Jungkook was about to decline, afraid that next morning you’d be upset if you found him laying beside you on your bed. But when seeing his son’s wide puppy dog eyes, he couldn’t say no.

“Okay,” Jungkook closed the bedroom door and walked back to the bed. “Move over bubs,” he then said before climbing underneath the bed covers, wrapping his arm around Minho’s body and pulling him close to his chest.

Jungkook couldn’t help but stare at your sleeping figure, heart racing when he suddenly found himself reaching over for you. For some reason, he couldn’t stop his arm from sliding over and slipping around your waist, also pulling you against him. Jungkook at first thought you had woken up when you started shifting, but his heart then skipped a beat when instead he felt your hand on his bicep, fingers digging into his skin, trying to pull him even closer, nearly smothering Minho in the process.

Jungkook couldn’t help but smile, tightening his arm around your waist and leaning over to place a soft, gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Love you, appa.” Minho suddenly whispered into his chest, eyes closed.

A single tear slipped from Jungkook’s eyes. “Love you too, bubs.”

He missed this.

They’re going back home. What do you think is going to happen when they get back?

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