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lenafromthenordiccoven · 3 months

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Yes, ma'am | Bob Floyd x f!pilot!reader

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x f!Pilot!reader

Requested? no (unless you count my own brain pestering me with this)

Rating: M – MDNI 18+

Word count: 4370

Warnings: Pilot!reader, switch!Bob, switch!reader, light fingering, oral (f!receiving) unprotected PinV (be smart and wrap it, folks), breeding kink, Bob Floyd fucks, Navy and Air Force inaccuracies are probably gonna pop up here and there, super self-indulgent

Summary: After six years of training, you’re finally graduating from flight school as one of the first female Eurofighter Typhoon drivers in the Austrian Air Force. Your boyfriend of six and a half years, Bob, has supported you every step of the way. And now? Now it’s time to celebrate his newly graduated, freshly made Lieutenant, girlfriend.

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A/N: Listen, this is gonna be SUPER self-indulgent, ‘kay? Thanks to TGM, the Austrian airshow “Airpower” in 2022 and the internships I’ve done with the AAF, I’mma try to enter flight school for the Eurofighter Typhoons once I’m done with my MA. This translator wants to flyyy, baby! 😂 So, this is my brain keeping me motivated to train for the entry exam by giving me ideas of what it could be like to actually do it and graduate. Also, I’m a slut for Bob Floyd. What else is new? 😂 This is basically an extension of @attapullmans International Bob Floyd Fucks month. I wanted to have this up by the end of January but didn’t have time. (Song to listen to for this would be Tell Me The Truth by Two Feet.)

Six years. You’d been waiting for this moment for six years. Had worked hard for it. And now, as officers, family and other invitees were applauding and two of the Typhoons soared overhead, you were officially being dismissed as a Second Lieutenant for the first time. The first female Typhoon driver in the Austrian Air Force. And yet, it didn’t feel real. Not the way your classmates, other pilots with the rotary wing or other fixed-wing aircraft, clapped you on the back as they cheered. And certainly not the way your boyfriend of almost seven years, who’d been there for you every step of the way since you’d told him you wanted to try out for the Air Force when you’d first started dating, was grinning at you. No, he was positively beaming.

The fact that your parents hadn’t been able to make it to your graduation might’ve dampened your mood, if Bob wasn’t looking at you with so much love and pride, it made your own chest swell. You’d done it. Despite what everyone else and your own mind had told you from time to time, you’d made it. And, to be honest, you’d been terrified of Selection Day. Scared that even after already three years of consistently being top of the class and adamant about wanting to fly the Typhoon, your superior officers would tell you, they’d assign you to the helicopters or air transport.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, blood roaring in your ears as you pushed through the crowd and finally reached Bob. You were trembling by now, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, the world coming back into focus. And with it, the thought that you had to get Bob out of here as soon as possible. He’d chosen to wear his dress whites, while you were in your dress uniform with its grey jacket and grey pants (thank god, they’d actually let you choose whether you wanted to wear a skirt or pants and nobody had pitched a fit when you’d gone for the pants, explaining that you would “stick out like a sore thumb as is”, you didn’t want to add to that by being the only person wearing a skirt. The other female cadets in your class had all chosen the pants as well.) – and the new golden edelweiss on your collar. Fuck, if he didn’t look like he’d stepped off the pages of one of the romance novels you’d been devouring recently.

“Congratulations, darlin’. ‘m so damn proud of you,” he murmured before bending down to press his lips against yours in what had to be the most chaste kiss of the century. But you were still in sight of your superiors, so you couldn’t go too far. Especially since your relationship had already sparked enough gossip – and a three-hour briefing on what you could tell your boyfriend and what you couldn’t, not that you hadn’t figured out most of the things with you usually being on the receiving end of Bob’s professional silence. You didn’t feel like adding fuel to the fire, even though you positively ached to kiss Bob the way you really wanted to and to stick your hands in his hair and mess up that gelled back hairdo he was sporting.

You could feel your cheeks heat at the thought of how you didn’t even want him to take off his uniform. You just wanted to get him home and have him fuck you while he was still wearing his dress whites. “Thank you, baby,” you finally replied to Bob’s praise.

He raised an eyebrow and slightly cocked his head at your reaction, but you saw recognition bloom on his face when you lightly bit down on your bottom lip. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear. “Do we still have to go to any official dinners or parties, or do you think, we can jus’ sneak off?” His voice was rough, lower than it had been just a minute ago, and it sent a delicious shiver down your spine.

You briefly closed your eyes before you looked back up into those light blue eyes of his, trying to look as innocent as you could muster. “I’m afraid, there’s one more we have to go to. My new squad leader’s paying, and it would probably be good to get to know them a bit before next Monday. But I’m sure, they’ll understand if we don’t stay for too long.”

“Whatever you say, Lieutenant.” His lips stretched into a smirk, the kind of which you imagined only you saw on the regular, as another shiver raced down your spine and left goosebumps in its wake despite the June heat. Damn it. You knew, how much he liked it when you called him by his rank. But this? This was new. And you loved it. “You wanna take the lead when we get home?” He wrapped an arm around your waist and drew you in closer as you nodded.

“Hell yeah, I do.” You both chuckled at your response. Usually, you had no problem handing over control to Bob, especially in the bedroom. But sometimes, especially if things had been stressful and since you’d joined flight school, you liked to be the one to make him whimper and beg for a change. Tonight would not be any different. You grinned as your mind was already busy conjuring up ideas.

***

“Good god, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, he could talk that much,” you groaned when you finally entered your off-base apartment with Bob hot on your heels. Initially, you’d expected to only stay for maybe two hours with your new squad. But then time had stretched on and now it was almost ten pm. You were exhausted. But also restless. Besides, you actually had the weekend off, starting with Saturday tomorrow. And Bob would leave on Sunday evening, so who would fault you for not wanting to go to sleep yet?

You toed off your shoes as Bob closed and locked the door and then leaned his back against it. His eyes were closed, a sigh left his lips and for the first time since you’d picked him up from the airport, he looked tired. You inched closer to him, snuggling into his chest, despite his buttons and ribbons digging into your cheek. You could feel him relax against you, just as the tension finally left your own shoulders.

“You know,” you began to mumble into his jacket, “I’d get it if you wanted to go to sleep after today. We’ve still got tomorrow and Sunday after that.” You really would have understood if his response had been yes, wouldn’t have minded just curling into his embrace and against his warm body in bed as you both drifted off to sleep.

But to your surprise, he simply lightly pushed on your shoulders until he could get his fingers under your chin and tilt your head up to meet his gaze. “I might be tired, but that doesn’t matter. Haven’t seen you in months. Just wanna … feel you. Make you feel good.”

“You want to be a good boy for me?” you replied with your own question, your own fingers inching up his neck until you could caress his cheek. He leaned into your touch and then nodded.

“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes were glued to yours, pupils blown a little wider than they had been just minutes before. The corner of his mouth twitched upwards when he heard the sharp intake of your breath at his words.

You groaned, squeezed your eyes shut and then leaned your forehead against his chest. His words only worsened the throbbing in your core, while you fought the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “I never thought, I’d actually like it when people call me that. Makes me feel so old.” You swallowed thickly. Well, you weren’t entirely honest. You’d thought about what it would be like to hear Bob call you “Ma’am” or by your rank. The two of you had tried it out once, where he’d called you cadet and you’d immediately shut him down. It had made you feel too small, by no fault of his really. You just hadn’t liked it. But this? Hearing him call you Lieutenant? Especially in this tone of his he sometimes got when he was particularly needy and wanted you to ride him. It ignited a whole new wave of desire in your core that quickly spread throughout your whole body.

He chuckled. You felt his chest vibrate underneath your cheek. “Now you understand what you do to me when you call me by my rank?” His hand came up to cup the back of your neck. Your eyes almost fluttered closed again just feeling his fingers brush against your skin.

“You wanted me to call you Lieutenant and Sir,” you started to defend yourself. Bob’s grip around the back of your neck tightened. Only lightly, but enough to make you take a half step back, so you could look him in the eyes properly. The light blue of his eyes was almost completely swallowed by his blown-out pupils now. His other hand took your wrist and brushed your hand against the growing tent in his pants.

You could see his nostrils flare when you flexed your hand and grabbed his dick over his pants, rolling the heel of your palm against his tip. He jerked, his hips involuntarily bucking against your hand. He barely suppressed the moan bubbling out of his throat and you bit your lip to hide the grin threatening to break out on your face. “I know, you feel weird about people callin’ you ma’am at work. But when we’re off-duty and I call you that or by your rank, I don’t want you to ever think, it’s not a sign of my utmost devotion to you. I love you, Y/N. And I wanna make you feel good. Please. Lemme make you feel good. Show you how much I worship you, ma’am.”

He kept his eyes trained on yours as you leaned up on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his ever so lightly. He groaned and chased after your lips, but you took another step back, took your hand away from his crotch in the process. “Well, then you better show me you mean it, Lieutenant. Don’t you think?” You began to slowly walk backwards into your small apartment, undoing the buttons on your uniform jacket as you watched him stalk after you.

While discarding your uniform, you were careful not to wrinkle it. You’d have to probably go to the designated dry cleaner’s anyway, but just wanted to be safe. A thought that immediately left your head when you saw Bob reach up to undo his own buttons. You surged forward, put a hand on his and then said: “Did I say, you could undress, Lieutenant?”

Bob’s gaze flicked from your face to your hand on his. You were pretty sure, he’d also eyed the semi-lacy bra peeking through your open shirt, but you couldn’t fault him. While your current underwear couldn’t possibly be classed as lingerie, you were wearing a pretty, white set that came with lace trim around the hems, was super soft and comfortable to wear – but also had your now pebbled nipples poking through the cloth. “No, ma’am. Sorry.”

“It’s alright, Lieutenant. I’ll let it slide this time. But just so we’re both clear, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise, understood?”

Bob startled, blinked once, twice, before he stuttered: “S-say again?” In another instance you would have teased him for so easily falling back into the standard ICAO phraseology, but this time, you just smiled. You shrugged off your white shirt, relishing in the way his eyes tracked every little one of your movements. He licked his lips as you pressed your body against his, nudging his cock with your thigh. One of your hands travelled up his chest, over his ribbons. Your nails lightly scratched the skin of his neck until you could tangle your fingers into his hair. And you tugged. Not hard enough to actually hurt him, but enough to elicit a broken moan.

“I said, the uniform stays on until I say otherwise.” You tugged again. “Did you understand me, Lieutenant Floyd? Or do I have to spell it out for you?” He leaned down a bit, until your faces were only inches apart.

You could see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes. He would obey for now, play along with your little game, but you would definitely be having a conversation about your apparent uniform kink later. And you knew, he would use it against you when he could.

“Loud and clear, ma’am.” He wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you a little closer, and you guessed, to keep your body pressed against his, give you a harder time to escape his grasp again.

“Good.” You pressed a small kiss to his lips, ducking away before he could deepen it. You started to back up again, into your bedroom while you opened the button and fly of your pants, pushed them down over your thighs and let them pool down at your feet. You heard him groan and felt his fingers lightly brush over your ass when you turned around to walk over to your bed. You swatted his hand away, then bent over to push down your panties.

Bob swore under his breath, and you couldn’t help the grin that lit up your face at his reaction. You’d soaked through your panties by now, knew he could see it. Was probably itching to bury his fingers and face in your pussy. But when you caught his gaze, your breath hitched in your throat and your overly confident, dominant persona faltered for a split second. Fuck. He looked like he was going to devour you the second he got his hands on you. For a moment, you wondered if you’d gone too far in teasing him this much.

“What’s your color, baby?” you asked and slowly sank down on the edge of the bed.

“Green. Still, very much green. But, damn, Y/N…” His gaze briefly landed on your pussy and the wetness you knew he could see staining your inner thighs. You swallowed, before you leaned back a bit, steadying yourself on your hands.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Get over here and show me what other talents your mouth and those thick, nimble fingers of yours possess.” He didn’t even respond verbally this time, only made a sound that reminded you of a growl. He nodded, once, just a quick, curt movement of his chin. Then he closed the distance between the two of you in two long strides.

His hands were on you before you could even tell him to touch you. One of them cradled your head and pulled you closer, so he could crash his lips against yours in what you’d call a complete 180° turn from how you’d kissed on base earlier that day. You moaned into the kiss, tangled one of your hands into his hair and easily opened up for his tongue to slip into your mouth. His other hand wandered down, quickly squeezing your right breast before it dipped down between your legs.

“Bobby,” you gasped against his lips as he swiped his fingers through your folds and pressed his index finger lightly against your clit.

“What, no more orders for me, ma’am?” He smirked against your lips as you desperately shook your head. You’d thrown your persona out the window the minute he’d fully touched you. All that mattered was feeling his body against yours now. Nothing else.

“Fuck that. Need you to take over. Fuck me, Bob. Please.” You could barely suppress the moan ripping out of you as he quickly shoved two fingers inside of you.

He groaned into another kiss; you knew he could feel you clench around his fingers. How you grew even wetter. “Oh, sweetheart. I’ll do anything you want if you ask me this nicely.”

When you opened your mouth to tell him what exactly it was you wanted, he gently withdrew his fingers from your pussy and pushed them past your lips instead. You closed your mouth around his fingers, letting your tongue swirl over the tips and let out a low moan at the taste – and the fact that he had just figured out what you wanted without you having to ask.

He slowly sank down on his knees in front of you, grabbed your thighs and placed them on either side of his head. He looked up at you, making you wonder if it was even possible for his eyes to grow even darker? Much like you, he’d foregone his usual glasses for the day and opted for contacts, making you almost miss the feeling of the frame digging into your skin. Without his gaze ever leaving your face, he turned his head and pressed a gentle kiss to the skin of your inner thigh. “This what you were gonna ask me to do, sweetheart?”

You nodded eagerly, trying to push him closer to your core with your heel, but to no avail. “Yes.” Any other time you would have been fucking mortified at how needy and breathless you sounded, and he’d barely touched you. But you’d done the same to him, it was only natural, he’d turn the tables on you as soon as he got the chance. And you’d handed him the reins freely after all.

“Yes, what?” He’d practically growled the words, raised an eyebrow at you and slowly leaned closer to let his hot breath ghost over your now practically dripping pussy.

You swallowed again, scrambling to find your voice and command your tongue to move. “Yes, Sir.” You could barely hear his mumbled “Good girl” in response; your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you wondered how he hadn’t heard it yet. And then he dove right in. Licking, sucking, groaning into you as he got a taste of you after you’d barely been able to even talk on the phone for months. You leaned back further, your mouth fell open and you let the moans and gasps flow freely. When you bucked your hips against his face, his left hand came up to grip your right hip; his right hand landed on one of your breasts, pulling down your bra, so he could grab at the flesh and roll your nipple between his fingers.

Your arms trembled underneath your weight as your hands dug into the duvet underneath you. You didn’t even hold back the praise, told him how good he made you feel. In return, he doubled down on his efforts of eating you out like he was a man starved. It didn’t take long for you to reach the edge, but Bob made no move to slow down. Instead, the hand that had been kneading your breast wandered down until he shifted his mouth to your clit and thrust three of his fingers back inside of you, curled them up to hit the spot that sent you careening over the edge with a litany of “Oh my God”s leaving your mouth.

Your arms had now fully collapsed under you as you slowly returned to your body and your chest heaved with every breath as you were gasping for air. Bob pulled off of you and crawled over you, light concern shone in his eyes as he asked if you were okay.

You nodded after a couple seconds of blinking and trying to regain your ability of speech. “That was …”

You’d trailed off and before you could pick up your train of thought, Bob interrupted you: “So, what else did you have in mind for tonight?” His left hand was drawing abstract shapes onto the skin of your right hip and stomach while he waited for your reply.

You groaned, closed your eyes and dragged a hand over your face. “I … hadn’t decided, actually. Either, I ride your cock or you bend me over and fuck me until I can’t walk.” You peered up at him through your lashes with a sheepish grin. You couldn’t place the origin of the flush creeping up your neck and spreading over your chest. It was either desire or embarrassment. Or, more likely, a mix of both.

He chuckled and let his head drop down for a quick peck against your lips, before he shook his head at you. “Jesus, Y/N.”

“Sor–” you’d almost said before a hand over your mouth silenced you.

“Don’t apologize for that. Besides, I did say, I’d do anything for you, didn’t I?” He smiled down at you as you nodded, still somewhat bashful at your suggestion. Without another word, Bob stood up and you whined at the loss of contact as his hands trailed off of you as well. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll be right back where you want me. Where’d you put the condoms?”

Oh, that’s where he was going? No, no, no. That didn’t work with the fantasy you’d sketched out in your mind all week as you’d touched yourself – at night, in the shower… You sat up and grabbed his wrist with a hand to pull him back towards you. “No condom tonight. I’m on birth control anyway for my cramps. And I …” You looked down, wanting to look at your knees, but your gaze got caught on his dick straining against his pants.

“What is it, Y/N?” He leaned back down, put a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head backwards, so you had to look at him. You bit down on your lip and closed your eyes for a second, praying that he’d understand what you were trying to say. “You want me to fill you up, sweetheart? Hm? Feel my cock inside of you, feel me come inside you?”

You nodded, breathed out another “Yes”.

Bob groaned in response. He squeezed his eyes shut, his lightly dominant persona leaving the room for a second as he looked at you again and quietly asked: “Is that why you want me to fuck you from behind?” Again, you could only nod and respond in a whisper.

He chuckled, gently cupping your cheek for a second and brought you in for a slow kiss. You practically melted into his touch and sighed against his lips when he pulled away again. “Well, lose the bra, turn around and get on your knees, sweetheart.” His voice was back to the low, darker and more dominant undertone. His gaze felt heavy on you as you scrambled to unhook the clasps of your bra behind your back and then threw the garment behind you. You’d pick it up later.

You scooted back onto the bed, before finally turning around and waiting for his next move on your hands and knees, completely bare before him now. Your heart fluttered in your chest when you heard him undo his belt and pull down the zipper of his pants. Goosebumps spread over your skin as his fingers traced your vertebrae and his lips pressed kisses against some of the healing bruises on your back. (Nobody had ever said, flying a fighter jet at hundreds of knots and with multiple Gs wouldn’t leave a mark on you.)

The buttons and ribbons on his jacket dug into your skin as he leaned over you, putting part of his body weight on you. He lightly nibbled on the junction of your neck and shoulder and you whined, pushing your ass back against his definitely rock-hard cock. He slipped into you easily, setting a pace that had you squeezing your eyes shut again as you let your head hang low and exposed your neck for his lips and tongue and teeth to mark you up as his, just as his cock marked your pussy.

He kept mumbling praises into your ear in-between groans and moans from both of you. But with how you’d worked each other up, it didn’t take long for either of you to get close to the edge again. “Fuck, darlin’. ‘m so close.”

“Please, Bobby. Come in me. Want to feel you.” You whined at a particularly rough thrust and your whole body shuddered when his fingers found their way down to your clit.

“Right there, Y/N. Just need you to come with me, ‘kay? Can you be a good girl and come with me?”

You weren’t sure if you’d replied to his words when your second orgasm of the night hit you like a freight train. The wave of pleasure pulled you under and you distantly felt Bob’s hips stutter, then still, as he reached his own climax and spilled into you with a low, guttural groan and a mumbled “Fucking hell”.

It took a while for the ringing in your ears to fade out, your breathing normalized as did Bob’s. Although he didn’t move from his spot behind you. Instead, he wrapped his arms around you and pulled your back against his chest as he tipped the both of you over onto your sides. He kissed your shoulder.

“That how you imagined it, sweetheart?”

If you’d had any strength left in your body, you would have rolled over in his arms to look him in the eyes. But as it was, you simply craned your neck a bit, humming at the kiss that landed on your cheek in response. “Better. So much better.”

“’M glad. Have to take care of my new Lieutenant, don’t I?” You heard the grin in his voice and weakly rolled your eyes at the teasing lilt.

“Of course, you do. You’re always a good boy for me and take such good care of me.”

He groaned lowly and sunk his teeth lightly into your shoulder again. “If you keep that up, you won’t have to wait long for round two.”

You chuckled, before fully relaxing in his arms with a sigh. “Good. I was planning on riding your cock while you were still in your dress whites, anyway.”

#sophie writes #fic: yes ma'am #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x f!reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x you #top gun bob #bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fucks

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shewhohangsoutincemeteries · 1 year

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wrapping up the last three hundred and sixty-five days with a round up of all the 'x reader' fanfiction I have published in 2022. thank you all for all your requests, feedback, reblogs and support over the last twelve months, especially during the 10k month of fic! sharing this love for these characters with you all is such a mental refresh for me, and hopefully I can publish even more fics in 2023. and I hope that you'll love all the new fics as much as you've loved these ones :)

happy new year!

full content warnings and content can be found on each individual post, and each fic is labelled for length. follow me on bartonstark to find all my fic in one place, or check out my ao3. smut/sexual content: *** personal favourites: ///

BRUCE BANNER:

afterwards (drabble) *** aftercare with bruce.

bend, don't break (oneshot) *** /// the take a reprieve during a party, and take a new step in your relationship.

fear and loving in iowa (oneshot) when you’re injured in johannesburg, bruce blames himself.

fireworks (oneshot) thanks to the frigid air at the top of the tower, you share a tender moment.

first times (drabble) *** having sex with bruce for the first time.

p.s. (ficlet) an unfinished note leaves you confused during your college graduation.

restoration (oneshot) after johannesburg, you have nightmares. bruce provides you with comfort.

BUCKY BARNES:

bedside manner (oneshot) sam calls you to say bucky has been hurt on a mission,and you panic.

early hours (oneshot) *** after a mission, all bucky wants to do is crawl into bed with you.

morning grind (drabble) *** morning sex with bucky.

shards of glass (oneshot) *** /// you share a past, and now bucky's tracked you down to find closure.

CLINT BARTON:

after hours (oneshot) *** clint stops by your office after work to distract you the best way he can.

body heat (oneshot) *** /// the there's-only-one-bed trope in the back of an suv during a blizzard.

bound (drabble) *** clint is really into bondage and you're happy to spoil him.

coffee break (ficlet) there's an avenger bleeding in the bathroom of the cafe where you work.

crossroads (oneshot) clint receives an offer that could change his life & you encourage him to take it.

a delicate hand (oneshot) /// clint attempts to pull you out of a funk by helping you get ready for the event.

green light (oneshot) *** /// you surprise clint with a new toy, and he is very eager to try it out.

hey, you (ficlet) *** /// you receive a note from a certain avenger in the middle of a crowded bar.

in the stacks (ficlet) *** you steal a moment of intimacy in the back of a bookshop together.

respite (oneshot) when you’re hurt on a mission, clint has to convince you to take a breather.

think of me (oneshot) *** /// when you're dragged out for a night, clint has an idea of what to do in the club.

three a.m. (oneshot) /// a knock on your window comes from a certain injury-prone avenger.

we could play pretend (oneshot) you bond over all the little things you miss about being in a relationship.

welcome home (drabble) *** you welcome clint home after he's been away on a mission.

JESSICA JONES:

reprieve (oneshot) she has to drag you out of a dingy bar in the middle of the night.

snooze button (drabble) jessica isn't exactly a morning person.

MARC SPECTOR:

fast lane (drabble) *** /// marc gives you a preview in the car of what to expect when you get home.

NATASHA ROMANOFF:

follow my lead (oneshot) natasha offers to teach you how to slow dance.

PETER QUILL:

raincheck (oneshot) /// convincing quill to go to bed isn’t exactly an easy feat.

SAM WILSON:

miss me? (oneshot) you're finally reunited with sam in the middle of the battle of earth.

soul food (oneshot) /// when you’re sick, he ditches his responsibilities just to make you feel better.

STEVE ROGERS:

lost time (oneshot) *** late for your date, steve walks in on you working off your frustrations.

TONY STARK:

afterglow (drabble) *** after care with tony.

as you're told (oneshot) *** /// tony calls you to his office with a new game in mind…

between the sheets (oneshot) *** you've decided to try for a baby, and tony can't wait to get started.

come back to me (oneshot) after tony almost dies, you’re left lost and furious at what just happened.

count (oneshot) *** /// tony is nothing if not a giver. but… he is also a bit of an asshole.

echo (oneshot) /// you’re struggling to forget the past, so you try to bring part of it back to you.

idiot (drabble) *** just an soft, sexy moment between the two of you.

insatiable (drabble) *** the real question is, which one of you is the bigger tease?

mood lighting (ficlet) *** tony spoils you by candlelight.

on your knees (oneshot) *** the idea of having you on your knees is far too tempting for tony to resist.

quick question (oneshot) tony has a question to ask you, battlefield be damned.

red and gold (ficlet) an afternoon in central park lets you appreciate the seasonal color change.

simple pleasures (drabble) *** tony loves nothing more than eating you out.

sober hearts (oneshot) a look at your relationship as it has evolved over the years.

spare key (drabble) *** you give tony a key to your apartment.

subtlety (oneshot) *** impatient, you make use of the ‘emergency stop’ button in the elevator.

warm hands (ficlet) *** the two of you share an intimate interlude out in the snow.

WANDA MAXIMOFF:

hold tight (oneshot) *** /// she loves to spoil you & sometimes that means leaving you a quivering mess.

reflected in you (oneshot) you try on your new uniform, and wanda helps you find your confidence.

spicy sweet (oneshot) *** you plan on surprising wanda, but disaster means a change of plans.

sweetness (oneshot) *** /// wanda loves the way you sound, and doesn’t care who else hears it.

THREESOMES/POLYAMORY:

hands free (oneshot) *** /// you find clint on the phone, and you can’t help but distract him.

player three (drabble) *** /// clint x bucky x you. game night takes a turn when they team up on you to win.

SERIES:

to ashes chapters (full series, this year's chapters in bold) prologue - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - more to come...

tags: @startrekkingaroundasgard @wittyforachange @lovely-dreamer19 @castieltrash1 @wefracturedmotivation @january-echoes @glossyloner @capitalnineteen @youclickedthislink @s0ftness @drakelover78 @queenoftheunderdark @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lol-you-thought @sebbystanlover-vk @mikariell95 @csigeoblue @abrunettefangirlnerd @babyblues915 @aar-journey @moistpotatobear @bellamyblakemorley @diesinspanishbcimhispanic @sentimentalalien @agustdowney @akumune @xxboesefrauxx @patheticallysentimental @loki-is-loved @ruderavenclaw @enna-core @hearmyharmony @katsies @youralphawolf72 @whovianayesha @bradfordbantams @alice-the-nerd @ace-fandom-dumbass @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @twsssmlmaa @earth-pig-fish @hallothankmas @meeksmusic83 @fallinginlovewithqueue @justanothermagicalsara @dragon-chica @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @starrynightsforever @baku-writes @sorryurnotbrucebanner

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minisugakoobies · 1 year

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12 Lays of Kinkmas Masterlist | OT7

Pairing: OT7 x reader (see individual days for pairings)

Genre: holiday, smut, fluff (see individual days for specific genres)

Rating: M (18+)

Warnings: sexual situations; see individual days for specific warnings

Word Count: 28K total (see individual days for specific wc)

Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own BTS - they just inspire me

Summary: see under read more cut for individual summaries

A/N: Happy holidays! I will be participating in the 12 Lays of Kinkmas this year! Starting on December 14, I will post a fic a day based on the prompts created by the brilliant @goodsoop! I'll link all of the stories here, below the cut.

Complete as of December 25! Happy holidays! ❄️

Read on for prompts, pairings, and summaries!

Day 1 - Taehyung x Reader: Your work rival has an unusual Secret Santa gift for you this year - posted Dec 14

Day 2 - Yoongi x Gender Neutral Reader: Gift wrapping with your boyfriend goes a little awry - posted Dec 15

Day 3 - Bi!Hoseok x Bi!Reader x Bi!Yoongi: Secrets come to light after your roommate spikes the eggnog - posted Dec 16

Day 4 - Jin x Reader: When your boyfriend won't behave at your annual office holiday party, you've no choice but to take matters into your own hands (sequel to All I Don't Want for Christmas is You!) - posted Dec 17 (also available in podcast format here!)

Day 5 - Hoseok x Reader: Your brother's best friend Hoseok really likes your cookies - posted Dec 18

Day 6 - Namjoon x Reader x Jungkook: Welcome to the Annual Woodpecker Holiday Games! Have a seat on Santa's lap and pick out your package - nice girls get one, but naughty girls get two! - posted Dec 19

Day 7 - Sub!Jungkook x Sub!Reader x Dom!Taehyung: Your boyfriend brings home a very special Christmas gift for you this year - his best friend Jungkook - posted Dec 20

Day 8 - Jimin x Reader x Jungkook x Yoongi: Everyone needs a helping hand now and then. But what are you to do when you have three friends in need and only two to give? - posted Dec 21

Day 9 - Spy!Namjoon x Spy!Reader: During a mission, you get caught in an embrace with your sworn enemy - posted Dec 22

Day 10 - Jimin x Nonbinary (AFAB) Reader: “You wanna fuck in the snow?!” - or, hooking up with your ex always leaves you cold. - posted Dec 23

Day 11 - Taehyung x Reader: Upon discovering that you and your boyfriend are planning on buying each other the same gift, you decide to try it on together first - posted Dec 24

Day 12 - Jin x Reader: Giving your fiancé his present in the early hours of Christmas morning - posted Dec 25

Masterlist ❄️ Find me on AO3 ❄️

#jungkook smut #taehyung smut #jimin smut #yoongi smut #bts smut #hoseok smut #namjoon smut #seokjin smut #bts fanfic #bts drabbles #12 lays of kinkmas #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #btswritingcafe #bangtanarmynet #possumswrite #ot7 fanfic #ot7 smut

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violetsaffron5 · 1 year

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12 Days of Christmas (2022)

6 | Six Geese-a-Laying

Pairing: Geto Suguru x f!Reader x Toji Fushiguro

Prompt: You’re new in town, and I’m your neighbor. We throw a Christmas party every year, why don’t you come and celebrate with us?

Words: 2.2k

Warnings: spitroasting, double penetration, vaginal sex, anal, oral sex, kind of voyeurism

It’s Christmas eve, and there’s a knock on your door. Eerie since you don’t know anyone in town yet, and you certainly aren’t expecting company.

So you wait, hoping it stops. It doesn’t. Rather, the knocks become more forceful.

Taking a deep breath, you look through the peephole of your apartment door only to be met with the image of a shirtless man, long black hair and what looks like red Santa pants on.

You’ve never opened a door so quickly in your life.

You greet him with a smile, only to remember you’re in the shortest shorts you own and a tank top since you’ve been lounging around your home putting boxes of belongings away all day.

“Hi,” he says with a smile, eyes roaming over your body immediately. Your cheeks flush instantaneously at the sight of him. “We have a Christmas party every year, why don’t you come celebrate with us?”

You stand, stunned at the offer for a moment. He’s patient. Smiles while waiting for a response, giving you a chance to look him over. He’s lean, toned, has a dragon tattoo that starts on the left side of his chest, the body wraps around his shoulders and comes down by his hip. The tail ends in the waistband of his black briefs that you can clearly see.

You lick your lips at the sight, wondering just exactly where it ends.

The dragon is traditional. Obvious. He’s bold to show up to a stranger's place and knock on the door with it exposed.

But his eyes are kind, and he has a nice smile, so you agree.

The thought of changing your clothes before leaving with this stranger didn’t occur to you until you were in the hall to his apartment, hearing the loud music through the walls.

All thought of that disappears though, as you step inside. In fact, you were overdressed to some degree.

Men and women alike were topless, many of them hanging on the arms of the person sitting next to them.

A man with white hair and round glasses is spread out on the couch, taking up most of the space with his long legs. He has a woman on either side of him, caressing his chest and kissing his neck.

He smacks the ass of the blonde as he grins to you, “Sasa, get me a drink babe,” he says as the two women stand to leave the room.

You nod your head and purse your lips as you continue looking around the living room, until you spot a man talking with a gorgeous brunette in lemon colored shorts. He has raven hair, a scar over his lip and matching tattoos with the man you’ve come here with.

The woman he’s talking to gets mad, folding her arms over her chest as he walks away, towards you.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here?” He questions, his voice gruff.

“Oh, I came here with…” You trail off, not having gotten the name of the man you followed. You make a note to remind yourself to make better decisions tomorrow.

“Suguru,” he answers, “and this is Toji.”

“Hi,” you smile at both of them, and give your name. Suguru wraps an arm around your shoulder as Toji watches closely. “I’m, um, your new neighbor. Just moved here, and I don’t really know anyone yet.” You chuckle nervously, not sure why you felt like you had to provide that much information about yourself.

The two men exchange looks before Suguru leads you into the living room to one of the couches. You sit in the middle, between Suguru and Toji, practically on top of them with how close they’ve moved themselves in.

Their bodies are warm next to yours, and their muscles are hard. And they're both incredibly attractive.

You’re not sure what to do or say, so you look around the room again, awkwardly. The white haired man tips his glasses down, exposing the most beautiful blue eyes you’ve ever seen before winking, placing them at the top of his nose once again.

Someone hands you a drink, you’re not sure who. And if you were making better choices tonight, you would have questioned what it was, or if it had anything in it. But you’re feeling awkward, so you drink it in one gulp.

It’s whiskey, and it makes you gag, but fuck if you didn’t need it to loosen your nerves.

You lean back on the couch, head resting on Toji’s shoulder, quickly feeling the effects as Suguru rests his hand on your knee, softly drawing random shapes into your skin.

“If you keep laying on me like this, I’m gonna think you like me.” Toji says, voice smooth, quiet and right next to your ear.

You giggle at his comment, moving your arm up to caress Suguru’s bicep as he continues to stroke your leg, moving up to your thigh. Your body reacts to his touch, reacts to Toji’s voice. Slowly, Suguru leans in, placing a gentle kiss on your neck.

“Want to go somewhere a little more private?” He asks curiously.

Is there any part of you that’s willing to pass up a potential threeway with two attractive, potentially dangerous men?

No. Not tonight at least.

You’ll definitely work on making better decisions tomorrow.

“Have fuuun~,” the white haired man sings as both men grab you by the hand, leading you down the hall to one of the bedrooms.

It’s a spacious room. More importantly, there’s a large bed in the center with silky purple sheets.

The men waste no time in putting you between them, Toji at your front, Suguru at your back, both kissing and nipping down your neck and shoulders, removing your tank top and pushing you into one another until you can feel both of their hard lengths against you.

You mewl at the feeling, skin hot and body throbbing, begging to be ravished by them.

Wrapping your arms around Toji’s neck, you kiss along his jaw until you meet his lips in a series of messy kisses. Suguru lifts you, so you wrap your legs around Toji’s waist, where he carries you off to the bed, and lays you down gently.

You watch as both men disrobe quickly, and you follow suit, losing your own shorts in the process.

They grin at you, when your eyes widen at the sight of their cocks. Both incredibly long and hard. Both thicker than anyone you’ve ever been with before. But you’re also drooling, licking your lips, ready to take them however they please.

“Come here,” Suguru says, pulling you by the leg and adjusting you so you're angled in a way your head is leaning off the side of the bed, while your ass is off the other.

“Wanna make you both feel good,” you whine, watching them from the edge of the bed, Toji smirks while Suguru strokes his length.

“Mm, really?” Suguru asks, walking towards you and you hum.

He takes his cock and taps your cheek with it a few times. He groans, when you take over, grabbing him by the base, swirling your tongue around the tip as you stroke him, gently.

He moves his hips, slowly at first, watching as you swallow inch by inch until his balls are grazing the tip of your nose, and your throat is bulging, full of him.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good,” he groans as you hallow your cheeks and swallow around him.

“She looks so good like this,” Toji murmurs, grabbing your legs, throwing them over his shoulders. He runs the tip of his cock through your drenched folds, teasing your clit several times before he grows impatient with his own antics and lines himself up to your entrance.

Suguru pulls back, as Toji slams his hips forward, and you cry out. It hurts, not having been properly prepared to accept him, but it feels so good at the same time.

Toji holds onto your thighs as he rolls his hips, and gives short shallow pumps of his own until you’ve adjusted to having both your pussy and mouth filled by them. And then they really start fucking into you.

It’s clear, with the way they time their thrusts with one another, they’ve shared before. The way Suguru plays with your clit as Toji leans forward, tugging and tweaking your nipples in his mouth.

You’re a moaning mess against Suguru, the vibrations making his dick twitch every so often.

They both praise you, tell you how good you’re taking them, about how they want to keep doing this with you. And you might just let them if they can keep making you feel this good.

Making good decisions can wait a week. Maybe even a month.

Toji stops pumping in and out of you when your orgasm rips through you, he lets out a loud groan at the way your body squeezes him, trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

“God damn,” he grunts, “so fucking tight.”

Suguru doesn’t stop. He pistons his hips back and forth as you choke and gag on his length. It hits the back of your throat with each thrust. When Toji picks back up, tears form in the corner of your eyes.

Suguru places his hand on your throat, feeling his cock each time he fully sheaths himself. Precum and spit are dripping out of the sides of your mouth, down your cheek and into your eye as he continues his assault.

“Fucking shit,” Suguru groans, pulling out of your mouth with a ‘pop’ once he gets too close to the edge. He grabs the tip of his cock to prevent himself from bursting all over your face, though he would like to see that. Next time.

“Wanna switch?” Toji asks between thrusts. Suguru nods his head, and Toji pulls out with a grunt. You whine at the loss of sensation, the loss of being filled so perfectly from the two men.

“Don’t worry, baby, we’re gonna make sure you feel good.” Suguru reassures.

They try to swap positions, but you sit up and shake your head, “want you both.”

Toji’s eyebrow quirks, along with the corner of his scarred lip in understanding. Suguru’s lifting you off the bed, taking your place as he sits down, lining his cock up with your entrance. Gripping onto his shoulders, you slowly sink down, keening into him as your ass meets his lap.

Toji’s behind you, the tip of his cock teasing your other hole, “You’re fucking filthy, princess,” he rasps, letting a trail of spit fall to your tight hole before pushing in.

You both hiss, feeling the stretch from him as he fully sheaths himself, pressing his hips to your ass. They’re kind, considerate, giving you several moments to adjust, moving slowly up and down their lengths before pistoning their hips in tandem.

Both of your hands are tangled in two sets of raven hair, both men thrusting into you with reckless abandon. Suguru has his arms around your waist, holding you in place, your back arched against Toji, head resting on his shoulder with your eyes closed.

You’re just taking what they give you at this point, and it’s never felt better. Freeing. Letting these two men fuck into you, use you however they want.

When you feel both men lean forward, you assume they’ll be focusing on your body, but you feel nothing.

Opening your eyes, you see the two men sharing a heated, passionate kiss. Teeth on teeth, watching the way their tongues glide against one another. There’s no helping the wave of pleasure that immediately crashes through your body at the sight, both men moaning into one another as you clench and spasm around both of their thick cocks.

It’s too much, for either man to take, feeling your body squeeze the life out of them, feeling their cocks so nearly rubbing against one another. They’re both cumming, hard into you, thick, hot ropes of cum filling you.

Both men tense, groaning into the crooks of your neck leaving searing kisses in their wake as they come down from their respective highs. You fall limp into Suguru’s arms, resting your head against his shoulder as Toji gently traces a line down your back causing you to shiver.

“I’d say she liked that,” Suguru chuckles while Toji’s pulling out before hearing a soft clap from the doorway.

Just barely, you’re able to make out the figure of the white-haired man leaning against the frame of the door, one leg crossed over the other.

“That was quite the performance,” he sounds amused, walking closer, Suguru’s cock still buried deep inside you. He grabs your chin, forcing your attention on him, as if it wasn’t already. “Next time, it’s my turn.”

You give a goofy grin back in return, before resting your head against Suguru’s chest once again, eyes heavy, drifting off to sleep. Turns out, this was the best decision you could have made this Christmas.

Taglist: @z33sblog @thisbicc @septembersums @septembersummer @nothisispatrick300 @km7474 @missyasma @arisucat @watyousayin @khadeejarh

#jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #TDC #violetsaffronfic #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader #christmas smut #geto x you #geto suguru smut #geto smut #getou suguru x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #toji smut #toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro #fushiguro x y/n

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missmaywemeetagain · 2 years

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Pink Scarf - PART 17 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis - Elvis (2022)

Requested: kinda

(Read more here--Pink Scarf Series Masterlist!)

Prompt: You are part of Elvis Presley's coveted inner circle, and the currently-disgruntled wife of one of the members of Elvis' famous entourage, the Memphis Mafia. After Elvis' dynamite first performance in Vegas, you find yourself in deep water when his magnetism finally gets to you after all these years. [ Fem!Reader ]

TW: SEXXX. Verbal Abuse. Assault, both sexual and physical. Blood. Violence. ANGST. Cussing. Infidelity. Historical inaccuracies in the Vegas timeline. Priscilla doesn't exist in this timeline.

Rating: Explicit/Mature (NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 10k

A/N: PREPARE YOURSELVES, cuz this is an INTENSE roller coaster ride, y'all. Also, PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS. I'm not gonna say much else, other than this is a beast and I cannot wait to hear the unhinged responses after. And thank you for your patience!

As always, to all my babies, honeys, and lil' mamas supporting me out there, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL and your reactions, reblogs, messages, asks, and comments you've given me have been a blessing beyond expression. You all are the best community a writer could ask for! Thank you so much for your support. I am loving getting to know y'all better! I love every single reaction and comment and ask, and I'm sorry if I don't get back to them all as soon as I'd like but know that I love you all and am so excited to be making new friends! And a big "Hey, Y'all!" to our friends from Elvis Twitter, Elvis Discord, and Elvis Instagram--I see and appreciate you coming over to join us! 👀💋

If you feel so moved, please let me know what you think or how you're feeling (or send me asks)! I think I put everyone on the taglist who requested it, but please let me know if there are any issues or if I missed anyone. There seem to be some issues with tagging that I can't seem to fix, so please know I'm not leaving you out intentionally! Also, if you comment on a previous part that you want to be tagged, I might not always see it, so feel free to message me if I miss you!

I imagined this with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat!

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

(I did start cross-posting Pink Scarf to my long-neglected AO3 account (which some of you already discovered!), so if you are so inclined, you can check it out over there!)

“You need me?” you question him, honestly taken aback by the sentiment, even though he has said it before. It’s just still so hard for you to believe that a man like this needs a woman like you. Running your fingers through the soft, damp hair at the nape of his neck, you look at him with wide eyes.

“Yeah, baby, I do. I really do,” Elvis says, wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you close. His head buries in your neck, in your hair, breathing you in.

“Show me,” you whisper in his ear, surprised by your own boldness. But his declarations have you some kind of way and that coil is still like hot coals smoldering in your belly. You feel his body stiffen against you, knowing that he is even more stubborn than you and doesn’t want to give in to you just yet.

You run your hands over his exposed chest and under the deep V of the fabric, grazing over his nipple with your fingernails. He twitches and jumps under your touch, despite his efforts to stay neutral.

“I need you,” you breathe, pitching your voice up the slightest bit as you look into his eyes. And you do. You desperately need him, in every way. If you could crawl inside of him, you would. You need to believe his promises are true, that he will take care of you and be everything you need. You need him to show you.

This must read on your face, because he cannot seem to mask his response this time, his azure eyes widening and pupils dilating.

“Take care of me,” you say, your voice nearly a whine.

That’s the ticket. “Fuck, okay…yeah, let me take care of ya,” Elvis breathes in your mouth as his lips find yours, your sins forgotten for the moment, if not forgiven completely. His lips devour yours and your hands can’t get enough of him, starved from before when he had you tied up. They roam over his chest, wind around his neck and into his hair before scraping down his back and clawing at his waist.

Elvis pulls back for a moment and surveys the space in the room. You can see his wheels turning, then how his lips curve up in a smile as he figures out how he wants you. He leaves you hanging for a moment as he pulls a chair right in front of a huge, floor length mirror. Sitting in the chair, his legs spread wide, he beckons you to him.

“Come sit on my lap, baby,” he purrs at you, and you immediately obey, settling on one of his strong thighs and burying your head into that deliciously long neck of his. The salt of his sweat stains your lips. His strong scent surrounds you, magnifying your need for him. You suddenly feel very small in his arms in addition to that need. He seems to sense this, letting you first cuddle into him a bit before winding his large hand below your jaw and peppering kisses down your neck.

“Gonna be a good girl and do as I tell ya?” Elvis asks, his voice low and gravely as he grabs your chin.

You nod. He truly fucked the fight right out of you before, over there against the wall.

“That’s my girl. Now turn and face the mirror for me,” he says, guiding your hips to swivel in his lap. He pulls your dress up and over your waist, leaving you in your lacy panties. You feel a little self-conscious looking at yourself perched on his lap like this, your cheeks a flaming shade of red. You are very close to the mirror, too close. But you watch as your eyes go wide when he grabs your inner thighs, spreading them open with his large hands while sliding his strong thighs in between to keep yours apart.

The lacy fabric of your already-soaked underwear strains as he massages your legs from your knees to your hips. The groping shoots fire through you and you press back into his lap, encouraging him to continue. When he ghosts over your core, it steals your breath away, and you are so incredibly ready for whatever he has to give you.

“Let get these off,” he says, tapping your clit over your panties and causing you to jump with the sensation. Nearly frantic, you shuck them down and off with lightning speed, along with your heels. Elvis chuckles, spreading you open even further when you sit back in his lap. Your muscles strain with the stretch, but you don’t care.

“Be a good girl and put your feet up on the mirror for me,” he instructs, and albeit confused, you do as you’re told. “Nice and wide for me, honey. Yeah, just like that.” He scoots your hips down a bit as you adjust and cradles your upper body with his, his head resting over your shoulder, looking at you both in the mirror. You are completely exposed and utterly vulnerable before him once again.

“Now look at that,” he breathes almost reverently, “You’re stunning, in every way.” You both watch in the mirror as he runs his fingers down your face, your jaw, then over your body. You shiver in his lap, earning his famous lopsided smile in return.

Elvis gets more serious as his fingers reach your core. “But ain’t this the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen,” he whispers in your ear, running his pointer finger ever-so-lightly over your folds as you watch. The combination of sensation and the visual you are not used to seeing has you squirming in his lap, aching. He locks his other arm around your pelvis, pressing you against him and immobilizing you.

“Be good, baby. You promised,” he says in your ear, and you watch yourself nod furiously, stilling. He commences his lecture. “I wantcha to see what I see, baby. Look at how pretty and red you are for me like this, all slick and swollen and needy,” he says, watching intently, hungrily, as his finger grazes your lower lips, up one side and down the other. You whine and grip his arm for purchase, feeling like he is calling all the blood in your body to gather in your cunt. It feels heavy and pulsing, burning with need for him.

Elvis brushes up to your clit. “Hmm, one of my favorite little spots,” he hums, circling it softly, making you keen as you lean back into him. Then, obscenely, he uses his first two fingers to spread your lips apart. “Christ, baby, look at that,” he says, voice filled with lust and awe, “You’re fuckin’ weeping for me.”

Your eyes travel down to your exposed hole, and sure enough, you are literally dripping with arousal, both yours and his. It glistens as it gathers, a slow, eager little drop sliding out. You cannot stifle the low moan that escapes your lips at the erotic nature of this little show, your pussy buzzing with heat and want, on display for all to see.

Elvis senses you need more, and he lets your folds wrap around his long middle finger, dragging it up and down through your slick as you watch.

“Oh, god,” you sigh, thankful for the friction, your hips automatically rolling for him.

“Touch yourself, baby. Don’t worry, I’ll help you,” he says, moving your hand over your mound and guiding your fingers in slow circles over your clit before he returns to rubbing in between your slick lower lips. The wonderful combination makes your eyes flutter closed and your head fall back onto his shoulder.

“Nuh uh! Eyes open!” Elvis nudges you, and your eyes pop open. “I want you to watch yourself come, baby. I need you to see what I see.” He smiles, and it’s almost boyish in its mischievousness.

It’s not going to take much, considering how primed that coil was before you even sat down, and how strangely erotic this whole scene is. How it’s making you feel lightheaded and buzzy and hot all over. You begin to work your clit furiously, watching as Elvis runs his fingers over then through your sopping, swollen folds. When he dips one long finger, then another into your weeping hole while you watch, the string of curses that leaves your lips is utterly filthy.

Your senses are overloading, which you imagine was his intention. The sight of you swallowing his fingers so needily, so readily, your arousal shining, the wet suckling sound coming from your cunt as he expertly works his fingers in and out of you pushes you headlong to the edge. Coupled with this and your barrage on your clit, you hit your climax hard with a loud cry, pressing your heels into the mirror with such force, you’re afraid you might crack it.

“Look, look, look, baby,” he pants, forcing your focus back to him, back to what he’s doing to you. “Look at how you flutter around me!” He’s right; you watch, mesmerized as your hole clenches at his fingers through your orgasm, and fuck if that isn’t amazingly hot.

You whimper at the sight, shuddering and panting at the exertion. He chooses that moment to curl his fingers, pressing that special spot inside you that is only his, and another wave of pleasure shoots through you so strongly that you lose your breath. You crest the hill again, stars shooting through you, forgetting that you ever came here to break this off, to run away from him.

There is a wild, desperate look in your eyes that you’ve never seen before as you writhe against him in your ecstasy, keeping you fucking down onto his fingers even though you are sore from before. You can’t stop the waves that keep crashing over you, engulfing every inch of you as you watch it happen before your eyes.

And Elvis looks gorgeous, those blue eyes flashing with his magnetic sexual energy, his pouty lips open and pink and panting right along with you. He is hard again, his length pressing into your spine through his suit as you furiously roll on his fingers, and you can feel him begin to shudder underneath you. You know he gets off on watching and this is quite the show. You rock your hips more deliberately now, feeling the length of him slide between your ass cheeks, and he groans.

“Am I gonna make you come in your pants, E? Gonna make a mess for me?” you mewl seductively, wanting to push him over the edge, too. “You like watching me get off on your fingers, don’t you?”

“Jesus, baby, yes,” he moans, “but I need to watch you come again. Come with me, honey.”

You’re not sure you can. You are overstimulated and over stretched and near hysterical with pleasure. Your heart is thrumming so fast you can barely breathe.

“You can do it. I’ve got you. Let me take care of you, baby. Watch me take care of you,” he pants heavy in your ear, his eyes glassy, unable to take his eyes off your pussy. He moves his hips in tandem with yours now, then without warning, slides a third finger inside you.

Your eyes are glued to the mirror, seeing just how well you take him. You automatically adjust to him, and he works you as only he knows how. You work your clit and grit your teeth as you feel that coil poised to spring again.

“E-El-El-vis…F-f-fuckkk!” you cry breathlessly, coming completely undone around him again.

“Oh, fuck, honey…GodDAMN!” he groans into you simultaneously as he slams his hips up with a violent shudder that matches your own. You can feel the heat pulse under you, dampening the fabric of his suit.

But you continue to shake and shiver on top of him, your orgasm ripping through you, stealing everything you have left, draining every ounce of energy from your reserves, which isn’t much considering the insanity of the last 24 hours. You sense much too late that your body cannot keep up. Your heart is too fast, your breathing too labored, and your muscles too weak.

You shouldn’t be surprised, then, when your body goes limp, the blood drains from your head with a cold rush, and the world goes dim and then black.

“Y/n! Y/n! Jesus, Satnin, c-come on baby, w-w-wake up!” you hear Elvis’ panicked voice from far away, but you are so very tired and just want to sleep, thinking maybe it’s a dream.

…no, no! Oh, God, don’t—please don’t go. I-I lo…The faraway echo of long-ago words in this too familiar panicked voice fades away like a dream. You slip back into darkness.

It’s the piercing fear in his voice when he calls your name again that has you finally coming back into yourself. You blink a few times, willing the world to come back into focus, confused.

“O-oh, shit. Oh, t-thank God,” Elvis breathes. He is right above you, his eyes bright and flooded with fear, near tears.

“Wh—what happened?” you murmur, feeling buzzy and strange, and like things aren’t moving fast enough.

“You scared the shit outta me is w-what happened!” he looks down at you, now placed on the couch, his eyes quickly shifting from fear to anger. “You—you just fuckin’ collapsed!”

Your eyebrows furrow as you try to remember what happened. You’d come here to break up with him, to tell him you were leaving…then you argued. Then you fucked. The mirror.

Oh, god, had you passed out from coming too hard?

You start to giggle at that, uncontrollably.

“Baby, what the fuck? It’s not fuckin’ funny!” Elvis fumes, leaning over you.

That just makes you laugh more. “I came…s-so h-hard I p-passed out!” you hiccup out.

“That’s not normal!” he cries, throwing his hands up in the air.

Another peal of laughter at the absurdity of it rolls through you. He’s not wrong, but whatever is happening to you seems to be overpowering your sense of self-control.

“Are you on something?” he asks suddenly, grabbing your jaw to get you to focus. He looks over you carefully and then a flash of horror comes over him at what you assume is the thought that he’s somehow taken advantage of you.

“N-no, of course not,” you finally manage to get out. You are shivering now though, and suddenly freezing. “S-something’s not r-right,” you finally chatter out.

“No shit,” Elvis mumbles, eyes narrowed, obviously trying to figure out what’s wrong with you. “Baby, when was the last time you ate?” he asks.

You blink at that, trying to run through the last day in your mind, but all the days have been running together. You honestly don’t know.

“I-It’s been at least a day, I think,” you finally eek out. “Maybe l-longer?”

“’Maybe longer?’ Goddammit, y/n, you can’t just go without fuckin’ eating!” he yells, getting up from the couch and storming over to the phone at the other end of the room. You hear him ordering someone to bring food immediately as you attempt to sit up, but your dizziness has you lying back down quickly.

Yeah, well, maybe if I wasn’t in a constant swarm of emotional and physical upheaval for the last week, I would remember to eat, but who’s fault is that?

Elvis slams down the phone and paces back over to you. “When was the last time you slept, y/n?” he angrily asks now, his eyes a churning gray-blue, as he pulls your dress down modestly and throws one of his plush robes over you.

“Um, on the r-roof,” you get out.

“Christ, that was barely sleep,” he mumbles, obviously frustrated as he continues to pace the room. “You have to take better care of yourself, y/n!” he erupts.

You recoil a bit but are touched by his anger, knowing it is fueled by concern. But you are also annoyed because it isn’t all your fault.

“Well, I’ve been a b-bit busy,” you manage.

“Not that fuckin’ busy!”

He’s not getting it. You shake your head, tears coming to your eyes.

“Th-this is part of the problem, E. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends, I’ve been so s-stressed, I don’t know which way is up…” you shiver out.

He halts. Your words must be sinking in because the blood drains from his face and you’re suddenly afraid he might pass out.

“This is because of me,” he finally says. The way he phrases it, you’re not sure if it’s a question or statement.

“It’s not—” you start, not wanting him to spiral more than he already is.

“Goddammit, you’ve been tellin’ me you’re strugglin’, and I been yammerin’ at you to trust me to take care of you and then I did the opposite. Shit,” he curses. “I’m so sorry, baby.” Elvis deflates onto the couch next to you and pulls you into his arms, kissing your forehead, your cheeks, your eyelids.

You are too tired to respond other than to brush the errant tear that runs down his cheek with your thumb. You wish you could see this sensitive side of him more often.

“Okay, here’s what’s gonna happen: I’m gonna get some food in ya, then I’m sending Jerry with you upstairs so you can rest—”

You open your mouth to argue.

“There’ll be none of that,” he hushes you. “There’s no way you’re doin’ the show tonight. And Jerry’ll get you woken up before we come up after the show, and everybody’ll be none the wiser.” He gives you a stern look.

There’s no point in fighting him or telling him how his plan could go wrong. You’re still confused exactly how things with Jack are going to be handled or if anything Elvis said while fucking your brains out earlier was going to come to fruition, but you’re not in the frame of mind to try and solve that this minute. So instead you just nod.

The food comes, somehow all of your favorites. He knows my favorite foods? runs through your mind, but you are too hungry to dwell on it. Then, as he instructed, you head upstairs with Jerry, who without judgement, sends you into Elvis’ suite to rest. You think your mind won’t possibly let you sleep, but between the food and your exhaustion, you drift off before your head hits the pillow.

Circle G Ranch, February 1967

You wake up early, your eyes blinking out the dull winter morning light streaming through the window. Well, it’s not early for normal standards, but in Elvis’ world, most haven’t even gone to bed yet, you think, looking at the clock. You being awake now is likely due to the fact you couldn’t keep up with the partying last night and had excused yourself much sooner than usual to go to bed.

It takes you a moment to realize where you are. Being at Elvis’ newly acquired ranch in Mississippi has been a welcome change of scenery yet is still a little disorienting. You are used to Memphis, and even occasionally California, but this place is new for you all.

Completely dissatisfied and not having any semblance of control with his career, Elvis recently decided that he wanted a place in the country, a place where they could all come to relax and ride the horses he’d bought for all the men and their wives. A place where they could work the land and have a little fun. And you wonder if he just wanted to feel a little normal for once, thinking that a ranch would do that for him, that it could give him the control he so desperately craved. That maybe it might bring him some of that happiness and zest for life that had been bled out of him for all these years, turning him into someone you barely recognized.

So, Circle G Ranch was purchased, and you’d all arrived to take in its splendor and fresh air. And it was working. Elvis seemed happier here than he’d been in a very long time, the sparkle beginning to return in those expressive eyes of his. And when Elvis was happy, everyone else was allowed to be happy too, theoretically.

You think maybe all that horseback riding and fresh air is part of the reason you were so tired last night. Turning over, you notice that Jack hasn’t come to bed. Your heart sinks, though out here in the middle of the country, it’s not like he can get in too much trouble. It’s just likely the guys are still awake.

Either way, there is an emptiness in your chest that misses your husband. Each time he leaves with Elvis, less of the man you knew returns. You are hoping that some leisure time on the ranch will help him, too. There is less temptation out here, and more opportunities for you two to spend time together.

Unfortunately, he has not been very receptive to that so far, opting to hang with the guys more than you. But considering that he has been drinking more, part of you is glad for it. If the last couple of years have shown you anything, it’s that Jack is a mean drunk, just like his father.

With that thought, you decide to get up instead of dwelling on things you cannot change. As you get dressed, you hear the door of the trailer slam.

“Jack? Is that you?”

“Who else would it be?” he replies belligerently. The tone of his voice tells you immediately all you need to know. Your heart speeds up as a warning discomfort blooms in your chest. You steel yourself before walking out into the living area.

“Morning, sweetie. Want me to make you some breakfast?” you ask in a light and easy voice. If nothing else, food might help sober him some.

Jack’s response is a grunt in the affirmative, and then he shoots you a glare, his brown eyes dull but cutting all the same. You have no idea what you may have done to upset him, but he is obviously not happy with you. The tightness in your chest increases and you force a smile, not wanting to set him off. If you act like everything is fine, he might forget what is bothering him. It happens that way sometimes and is generally the best-case scenario when he’s like this.

“Okay, I’ll get that started,” you smile, and he settles with a huff on the couch. Scurrying off to the kitchen, your smile falls and you get to cooking as quickly as possible. Steak and eggs, you think. That’s his favorite and will help clear his head.

Your mind races as you cook, trying to find a reason for his ire. You dissect every moment from the day and night before but cannot pinpoint anything in particular that you might have done to make him upset. This has you feeling uneasy, on eggshells. If you knew what you’d done, you could apologize and make up for it before things get out of hand, but it occurs to you that he might be too far gone for that anyway.

Lost in your thoughts, it takes until you smell the meat smoking to realize you may have cooked it too long. You are hoping he is too drunk to notice. With renewed focus, you plate your breakfasts and walk to the tiny table.

“Soup’s on, babe!” you say in a cheerful sing-song voice. Part of you cringes inside to hear yourself like this.

He grunts off the sofa and stumbles to the table, plopping down with a screech of the chair. You keep yourself from wincing at the sound, wanting to stay as sunny as possible as you begin to cut into the meat. You’re unable to keep from looking up at him to check his body language, his affect, as he begins shoveling eggs and toast into his mouth without so much as a word to you.

You pick at your own breakfast, your appetite low because you feel so on edge. You can sense the tension in the room and know better than to speak at this point.

“What the fuck is this?” Jack grumbles, throwing his knife and fork clattering onto the plate.

You look up quickly, your heartbeat skipping. He’s fuming now, his eyes bloodshot and narrowed at you, his scar an angry red with the flush on his cheeks. You don’t have time to piece together whatever has happened before he continues, his voice shaking low with anger.

“First, you embarrass me by taking off in the middle of everyone having a good time last night. Everybody asking, ‘What’s wrong with her, is she okay?’ blah, blah, blah,” he says with a mocking venom that sends a chill right down your spine. “And now you can’t even make me a decent breakfast. Can’t even get that right,” he growls, pounding on the table.

The table rattles and you start to shake a little, frozen to the spot. You realize that maybe Jack is more than just drunk, that maybe he took something on top of it that has him worse than usual.

“I…I’m sorry, I was just tired from all the activity yesterday, and I can make you a new—” you sputter out quickly, but still unable to move, trapped in his furious gaze.

“I don’t wanna hear your fuckin’ excuses, you stupid bitch!” he screams, exploding out of his seat, the chair toppling over behind him with a clatter. “What I want is a fuckin’ steak that’s not cooked to death!” he roars, then picks up his plate and hurls it over the table near your head. You barely have time to register what’s happening, leaning out of the way at the last second on pure instinct, and the plate careens into the wall behind you with a crash, sending food and ceramic flying everywhere.

Your brain misfires and your heart leaps to your throat, the terror in your veins pulsing through you so intensely that all you can do is turn and run. You have to escape because you don’t know what he’s gonna do, he’s never thrown anything at you before, and he’s yelled, yes, but not done anything to hurt you, and oh, god, you have to get out, get out, GET OUT.

You fly past Jack, his rage too consuming and his senses too dull to catch you as you go, and you are out the door of the trailer in a flash, not stopping to see if he’s following you. No, all you can think is you have to get away, you have to escape, and you fly through the rows of trailers housing the other men and their wives. Your heart slams against your ribcage, fueling your body forward as you sprint down the dirt road towards the barn in the distance. Your socks stick to the cold ground as you run but you don’t care—all you need is to get to the horses. You’re not sure why, but you just know that if you can get to the horses, you’ll be safe.

You run and run, only hearing the crash of the plate in your ear, feeling the splatter as it shatters behind you. Only hearing Jack’s screams, “You stupid bitch! You stupid bitch!” You don’t even register the tears burning down your cheeks as you finally reach the barn, flinging open the door with what little strength you have left and frantically looking in the stalls for the horse that Elvis gave you.

Moonbeam. You finally see her near the other end of the barn, her gray and white coloring standing out in the sea of darker equines. You skid to a stop in front of her. Knowingly, as if she can sense your distress and your need for her large, calming presence, she turns and pokes her head out of the stall, nuzzling your tear-stained face.

“Oh. Oh,” you gasp, completely out of breath from the exertion. You cling onto Moonbeam’s strong neck, her coat soft and warm under your shaking arms. Your chest heaves, desperately trying to take in air. If you could, you would jump right on Moonbeam’s back and ride as fast and as far as you can, but she is not saddled, and you have no idea how to get her ready.

The light tap on your shoulder sends you flailing into the stall door with a shriek.

He’s found me he’s found me he’s found me, is all that runs through your head, though if you were anywhere near logical, you’d know that Jack was in no state to chase you all the way to the barn.

“Hey! Hey, y/n, it’s okay! Honey, it’s just me!” You turn toward the warm, familiar voice and are met with concerned deep blue eyes, a far cry from Jack’s bloodshot and brown glaring ones.

“Oh,” is all you can manage to huff out as you look at Elvis, your muscles starting to burn and shake. Your heart is still beating too fast.

“Are you okay? What the hell happened?” Elvis says worriedly but gently, looking over you, seeming to sense how on edge you are. He goes to touch your shoulder, but you reflexively shirk backwards, knocking your elbow into the door with a thud. He quickly backs away a step, putting his hands up in a non-threatening way.

You suddenly slam into the present moment, realizing that you must look insane. Your hair is windblown, you are makeup-less with tears streaking down your face. It’s the dead of winter and you are without a coat or shoes, your socks dirty and torn and bloody from your sprint. You have food splattered down your left side, and you are gasping for air like you’re drowning.

“Y/n, I need you to tell me if you’re okay,” Elvis says, quiet and calm, as if talking to a spooked horse.

You glance over his shoulder, suddenly afraid that Jack could stumble through the barn door at any moment. Wide-eyed and frantic, you look back at Elvis. You realize he’s between you and the door and that gives you some comfort. Jack would have to get through Elvis to get to you, and while you know you’re not in your right mind, you are completely certain that Elvis wouldn’t let Jack hurt you.

With this relieving thought and your adrenaline beginning to wane, you suddenly feel extraordinarily tired as well as embarrassed that Elvis is seeing you like this. You realize he’s waiting for an answer, but you cannot speak. You don’t want to bother Elvis with any of this, so you nod your head, bobbing it up and down quickly.

Elvis tilts his head and looks at you perceptively. Of course you’re not okay, and Elvis reads it all over your face and appearance. You finally give up under his watchful gaze, shaking your head. It falls back against the door behind you, and you choke back a sob. Your exhausted body shakes with cold and the remnants of your fear, and you slide down the door, unable to support yourself any longer.

“Oh, shit, okay. Honey, it’s okay,” Elvis coos at you, stepping quickly to your side but not wanting to touch you and invade your space, lest you freak out again. Instead, he slides down the door with you, letting you lean into him for support. And you do. As you reach the cold, straw-covered ground, you lean your head onto his shoulder, his warmth radiating comfortingly into your side. You begin to shiver.

“Here, baby,” he says, taking off his thick coat and wrapping it around your shoulders. Immediately, you feel calmer, as the heat and his distinctly Elvis scent of musk and Old Spice, coupled with the woodsmoke from last night’s campfire surrounds you like a blanket.

You both sit in silence for a while as your body comes back down from the fear of Jack’s outburst. He’s yelled at you before, even called you names, but he’d never gotten so close to actually physically hurting you.

He must’ve been on something, you think. Jack would never hurt me.

I should’ve been more careful with the breakfast. I should’ve paid more attention. I should’ve stayed up last night with him. The thoughts run through your head, as though if you examine them enough, you can possibly avoid setting him off in the future.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Elvis asks quietly, sensing the wheels turning in your head as only he can.

Humiliated, you shake your head vehemently. Elvis does not need to know the specifics of your marriage. He does not need to know of your failures.

But part of you wants to tell him he’s created a monster.

Without Elvis, Jack might never have gone into the bottle. Without Elvis, he wouldn’t be taking other shit that makes him fly off the handle at any moment. Without Elvis, without Elvis, without Elvis…

You are too exhausted for blame and anger right now, though, so you bury it instead. It is what it is.

Elvis doesn’t push you, though you can tell he wants to know everything. You can practically feel that he’s quelling some deep instinct to protect you, his muscles tensing and releasing, his jaw working. But maybe he begins to piece it all together himself because he remains quiet. You are safe now, and that’s what matters, right?

And perhaps it is your heightened emotions, but you suddenly crave the nearness of the man who used to be your best friend. The man that, for reasons you don’t entirely understand, time and circumstance somehow stole from you when you weren’t looking.

So you lean into him, into his strength and sensitivity and his unique power to draw you to him, even when part of you wants to blame him for everything. Even after all these years of confusing behavior and emotional distance, you can’t begin to imagine your world without Elvis Presley in it.

And now you sit here on the cold floor of a horse barn in the middle of the Mississippi countryside in the dead of winter, wondering how in the hell your life became this.

Jerry wakes you gently with a whisper and a poke on your shoulder but you startle anyway, pulled out of the dream violently with a gasp.

“Sorry, y/n, but everyone is on their way up soon. EP told me to wake you,” he says apologetically.

The room is dark, and you are still exhausted, but you are somewhat grateful to be pulled out of that dream-memory. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth and a sick feeling in your stomach. You can’t help but chastise yourself for letting Jack grovel the way he did after he’d sobered up that day, for how you forgave him so easily because it certainly was not the last time he went crazy like that on you.

“Thank you, Jerry. I’ll be right out,” you say blearily. You blink the sleep from your eyes and stagger into the bathroom to make yourself presentable.

Anger at Jack festers like an open wound, but the dream has also reminded you of your anger towards Elvis about all of it. That makes you feel uneasy, especially coupled with that nagging feeling that he is hiding something from you. You don’t want to feel angry at Elvis, but some of his actions over the years have contributed to your overall dissatisfaction with your life.

You didn’t fully realize until now how upset it had made you that he just stopped being your best friend one day. You still don’t understand all of it, though you feel like these unearthed memories are trying to get you there. But it doesn’t change the fact that both he and Jack abandoned you in different ways. And this pisses you off.

Fucking men, you think, touching up your makeup and straightening your dress. Your unease deepens when you realize you are going to face the group very soon and you have absolutely no idea what Elvis is going to do or even if he will do anything. Is he just going to pull you to his side and tell Jack to go fuck himself? Is he going to act like it never happened at all? You’re not sure which is worse.

Your stomach churns and you desperately need to talk to Elvis before he does something stupid. Panic rises, but you slam it back down, willing yourself to just be normal for the time being.

Be normal. What a laugh. As if any of this is remotely normal.

Steeling yourself, you head out to the living room just as people start walking through the door. Sandy finds you immediately, giving you a concerned and questioning look. You can’t tell if she’s surprised to see you or not, but you turn from her, still annoyed that she ratted you out (even if it was in an attempt to help you).

As the room fills and bustles, something is itching at you, poking at the corners of your mind. You think maybe it is paranoia. It feels as though Red keeps shooting knowing, snide looks your way. You can’t help but examine everyone around you, searching for signs that they know. You squirm in your skin, unable to get comfortable.

It doesn’t help that Jack slides in behind you when you aren’t looking, wrapping his arms around you a little too tight. He reeks of whiskey and cigar smoke so badly you choke. “Where you been, treasure?” Jack asks a little too pointedly, suspiciously, as if he knows something is up. Your heart plummets and you resist the urge to push him away but can’t help but try to worm your way out of his clutches as Elvis strolls in the room.

Elvis’ intense eyes find you immediately, and you watch his jaw clench as he keeps himself in check. You manage to slip out of Jack’s grasp and Elvis relaxes a bit, distracted by one of the guys. It seems like he doesn’t want to make a scene over the two of you in front of the group, which has you breathing a sigh of relief.

What doesn’t have you relieved is that Jack is once again all over you as everyone finds a seat. You feel trapped as the conversation begins to flow, wanting nothing more than to go hide in Elvis’ room, far away from the fumbling hands of your husband. His hands are heavy on you, creeping up your thigh, drawing circles on your shoulder with his fingertips. It used to be a comforting gesture, but now it feels possessive.

He knows. Maybe Red already told him, you panic. Your heart gallops in your chest and you try not to lose it.

No, don’t be an idiot. He wouldn’t be this quiet if he knew, right? Jack is a few drinks in at this point, and the more he drinks, the louder he generally gets. Though based on his hands, you think that he is feeling something else altogether.

You can feel Elvis’ jealous eyes bore on you as Jack touches you, but you are caught between a rock and a hard place. If you shirk your husband’s advances to obviously, it will seem strange and garner attention, but if you don’t, you fear Elvis will give you both away. And you aren’t ready for that, not before the two of you come up with a cohesive plan.

If you are going to leave Jack (no, when you leave Jack, you remind yourself), you certainly don’t want to do it in the middle of an afterparty with the whole gang listening in.

“I’m going to get something to drink,” you finally whisper, excusing yourself with a forced smile, needing to escape Jack’s clutches. “You need anything?” you ask.

“Oh, I need something alright,” Jack breathes sloppily in your ear, attempting to be seductive and failing. But it has an edge to it that worries you.

“You’re hilarious, babe,” you say as sweet as you can while standing to make your escape. Jack takes the moment to grope your ass and you can almost feel the wave of irritation coming off Elvis from across the room. “I’ll get you a drink,” you sputter out, sliding out of Jack’s grasp, shooting Elvis a quick, warning glance to not do anything stupid. Then you scurry away as fast as you can without seeming strange.

Instead of heading to the kitchen, you make a beeline for the bathroom, desperately needing a moment away from all the eyes you feel are on you tonight, wanting things from you that you cannot give.

Fucking men, you think again, closing the door behind you.

To your shock, it doesn’t close. Jack pushes in and your heart drops into your stomach. The look in his dark and muddled eyes bodes nothing good.

“Hey, treasure,” he slurs with that disturbing edge to his voice, grabbing your waist and pulling you in for a sloppy, whisky-tinged kiss. You try rather unsuccessfully to not cringe at the feel of his lips on yours.

Maybe he’s too drunk to notice, you hope.

“I thought you were going to get drinks,” Jack says suspiciously. He locks the door behind you, warning bells exploding in your brain for a multitude of reasons, one being Elvis breaking the door down, another being whatever Jack expects of you.

“I had to pee first, babe,” you say as evenly as possible, “Now get so I can!” You playfully swat him on the shoulder, as you’ve done a million times before in your life together, but this time is different. This time, Jack’s chocolate eyes blacken as he grabs your wrist.

Your breath catches, and your heart starts to speed up as Jack’s hand tightens. “Honey, you’re hurting me. Let go,” you whisper.

His dark eyes rake over your body with what you think is lust, but it is tainted with something frightening. “Oh, I think you came in here because you wanted something else,” he says, backing you into the vanity. “You know, some of the guys are saying that you’re stepping out on me. Can you believe that?” His head buries in your neck, his lips dragging roughly against your skin.

Fucking Red.

“W-What? That’s ridiculous,” you manage to eek out, trying to lean away from his touch, but there is nowhere for you to go. Your heart is in your throat, but before you can say anything else in your defense, he’s changing the subject.

“You’re wearing this scarf again?” Jack questions because it impedes his barrage of his mouth on your neck. He unties it and you watch the pink and black silk flutter to the floor.

“It goes with my outfit,” you reply. You attempt to push him away but get nowhere, his broad chest stubbornly immobile. “Seriously, Jack, I need to pee,” you whine now, hoping that will do the trick. Every nerve in your body is on alert as he kisses your skin, as he presses into you. You can feel the bulge in his pants growing, poking into your pelvis.

Every fiber of your being wants out of this enclosed space, a space that only a moment ago felt like a refuge but now feels like a prison. You don’t want this, and if Elvis finds out, there will be hell to pay. But Jack is too far gone to listen and too strong for you to move.

Jack picks you up easily and places you on the counter, his hands pushing the unyielding fabric of your dress up your thighs so he can spread them open and step between them. It feels cold—nothing like the warmth and passion you felt when Elvis did the same thing earlier.

“I told ‘em, ‘Not my treasure. She knows her place. Besides, who else would want her anyway?’” he laughs cruelly, grinding into you. The words cut, as he intended, and you become fully aware that you are in trouble. Your stomach rolls, nausea consuming you.

“Jack, seriously, stop it. I don’t want to do this right now. You’re too drunk,” you protest, pushing your palms into his chest to try and put space between you.

But he seems to take your protests as being coy, or perhaps he just doesn’t care, and chuckles darkly into your neck. “Didn’t stop you from sucking my dick the other night.” He lathes his tongue against your collarbone, causing an icy shiver down your spine that he interprets as positive, smiling on your skin. His hands roam to your back and unzip your dress.

You squirm, but it only serves to assist in his attempt to undress you, his hands roughly pulling down your sleeves and bra straps.

He stops abruptly, to your relief. “What are those?” Jack asks, suddenly on edge, his tone changing completely. He pulls back from you and for that you are grateful but confused.

“What’s what?” you reply as he stares at your chest, his eyes narrowing, the lust being replaced fully by anger.

Jack is on you in a flash, too fast for you to register what’s happening and then he’s yanking down the front of your dress, your bra, exposing your breast.

“Jesus Jack! What are you doing?!” you shriek, trying to pull away as he manhandles you, but you have nowhere to go.

“What the fuck are those?” He pulls you roughly off the counter and spins you around to the mirror, pointing to the series of purple welts on your breasts.

Oh, fuck.

“I…uh…I…,” you sputter incoherently. Your brain misfires, too panicked to think of anything clever or even anything at all. There’s no logical explanation for the dark bruises other than them being what they are. Your mind flashes back to the other night, how Elvis had claimed you, his pouty mouth suckling your skin roughly as he’d fucked you into oblivion on the couch.

You hadn’t even thought to cover them with makeup, since Jack hadn’t seen you naked in eons.

“You stupid fucking slut! Who are you screwing?!” Jack screams, ballistic, swinging you back around to face him.

You’ve never seen him this angry, his face and scar turning beet red, his eyes like daggers. But this reaction is rich coming from him, which triggers your own anger as much as your fear.

“Really, Jack? You barely come home and when you do you smell of cheap perfume, but me, I’m the slut?!” you yell back at him, your body shaking all over, as you pull up your bra and dress. You certainly hadn’t planned to do this here, now, but you’d known in your heart for days that this was coming.

The vein in his forehead pulses dangerously, and he looks like he truly wants to hurt you. He grabs your wrists painfully as you try and zip up your dress. You’ve never seen him look at you this way, even in his worst moments, and it send a shudder of fear through you. “You’re my goddamn wife! Nobody touches my wife!” he yells, his spit flying in your face, ignoring your reasoning completely, too far gone.

Then, he unlocks the door and yanks it open so hard it slams into the wall with a crash, and then pulls you into the hallway, dragging you behind him.

“Jack, stop. You’re hurting me!” you say, trying to wrench out of his iron grasp. “What’re you doing? This isn’t the place for this,” you hiss frantically, scared of what he might do or say next.

Jack manhandles you into the living area where people are conversing and laughing at someone’s jokes, and roughly pushes you into the middle of the room.

The laughter dies out quickly as all eyes turn towards you.

Your heart pounds in your chest and heat burns your cheeks. You are furious and scared and now embarrassed, the back of your dress undone in front of everyone. You watch as Sandy’s eyes widen, immediately gleaning what’s happening, and she starts to stand, but Jerry grabs her arm to stop her.

You rub at your raw wrists, but you don’t turn to look at Elvis, who is behind you. That would give it all away, and for now you at least have control over that.

“Who is it, huh? Who are you fucking? All of them?” Jack shouts at you in front of the group, pointing aimlessly at the men. There are confused and alarmed glances on most faces, though Sandy, Jerry, and Red all attempt to cover their knowledge with surprise. Some are better than others at concealing it, but Jack is too busy looking at you to see them.

“Hey, man, cool it,” Elvis says from behind you, trying to be nonchalant and deescalate the situation, but you can hear in his voice the effort it’s taking him to be calm.

Jack whirls you around roughly by the arm to face Elvis, as though he’s trying to shame you at court in front of the king. Elvis looks at you, unable to hide his concern and budding fury completely, and you shake your head the smallest amount, for only him to see, telling him to lay low and not give himself away. You may be fucked, but this can still be contained, at least until Jack has calmed down and not everyone is watching.

“This ain’t your problem, EP!” Jack yells. It’s as though the most obvious has escaped Jack’s rage-addled mind, since he’s not even considering Elvis when he’s the biggest threat of all.

But one doesn’t yell at Elvis. Not without repercussions.

“The hell it isn’t, not when you come in here drunk and hot like this, fixin’ to ruin everyone’s mood,” Elvis warns, standing slowly. He’s not yelling yet, but his eyes are starting to turn hard and dark. Elvis can be incredibly patient, but if his temper turns, it won’t be pretty. And he was already done with Jack before this wretched display. The tension in the room thickens to a heightened degree, leaving everyone on edge.

So hot with fear and embarrassment and anger, you think you might burst into flames right here. Your heart is thundering against your ribcage and you can barely breathe. Your legs itch to run, but you are surrounded by prying eyes, trapped between the two most important men in your life.

Jack is incensed, fuming, and not backing down. He’s gearing up for a fight, which is bad. His grip on your arm tightens and you can’t help but wince. You watch as Elvis takes a step towards you both and you shoot him a look to stay put.

“Jack, stop this,” you say as calmly as you can. “Let’s just take a breath and talk somewhere else and let the party go on.”

Jack’s chest heaves and he turns on you. “Shut the fuck up, you whore!” he snarls.

Then his fist brutally collides with your face.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion after that. The pain is instant, radiating through your cheek and your jaw, up into your eye socket. The metal of his rings snag at the corner of your mouth and scrape your face. Shock and disbelief course through you as the air rushes out of your lungs and hot tears spring to your eyes. The momentum of his strike sends you careening to the floor, and you manage to throw your hands out to catch yourself just before you hit the carpet.

A stunned silence falls over the group.

He hit me. He fucking hit me, you think in disbelief, through the pain, through the ringing in your ears.Jack had never, ever laid a hand on you before. You reach your hand up to your face, and it comes away bright red, bloody, your lip split. You can’t hold back the choked, shaking sob that escapes your lips.

Everything explodes at once.

The roar that comes from Elvis is like nothing you’ve heard before. The anger he’d shown you is but a fraction of what you see now as he crosses the room, a menacing bull after a matador. He strides so quickly and fiercely with those long legs of his that Jack barely has time to register what is happening before Elvis punches him square in the jaw, then rapidly again right in the nose. You can hear the sickening break of it which turns your stomach. Or maybe it’s your own pain doing that, you’re not sure at this point.

Elvis doesn’t even say anything, so blacked out with rage that he can’t even speak. You watch from the floor as Jack stumbles back and his eyes widen in shock, then confusion.

“EP? What the—?” Jack starts to say, holding his nose as it starts to bleed down his face, but before he can get it out, Elvis has him by the throat. Those long fingers wrap around and begin to squeeze as Elvis walks Jack back into the wall. Shocked, you watch from the floor as Jack’s face begins to turn red and he begins to sputter, clawing at Elvis’ hand and arm. True fear begins to play over Jack’s features.

Suddenly, the guys are all yelling and rushing around you. Sandy’s hands yank you up and back out of the fray, and you feel dizzy, swaying on your feet. You’re not sure how, but she manages to get you on the couch, zipping up your dress in a flash, and then examines your injuries.

“Are you okay? Y/n, are you okay?” she asks frantically, but with the commotion in the room and the fuzzy white noise in your head, she feels a million miles away. Your eyes are locked on the insane sight in front of you, freezing you with shock.

The guys are desperately trying to pull Elvis off Jack, but his hand is like a vise around Jack’s throat. He’s strangling him, truly choking him because you can see Jack’s face start to go purple and his eyes begin to roll back.

Three of the guys are on Elvis’ back now while Red chops at his arms, trying to break his hold on Jack’s throat unsuccessfully.

Oh my god, if Elvis kills him, I’ll lose them both and it’ll be all my fault, you realize.

You rise to your feet, ignoring Sandy’s protests, ignoring the dizziness and throbbing in your head, and you somehow, through pure will, push yourself through the throng of men to Elvis’ side.

“Elvis! Elvis, you have to stop this,” you say firmly, staring into his beautiful, terrifying face. His eyes are black and unyielding, almost unrecognizable. His jaw is so clenched in his murderous fury that you think he’ll crack his teeth. You’re not even sure if he can hear you because he doesn’t give any indication that he can, but you have to get him to stop.

“Baby, you can’t do this. You’re killing him. You can’t kill him. Satnin, I can’t lose you and if you do this, we’ll both be lost,” you murmur, pleading in his ear for only him to hear, hoping against hope it gets through to him.

You watch Elvis blink a few times, as if waking briefly from his trance, his shoulders relaxing just enough that when Red slams down on his arms again, they give way. Jerry pulls you backwards with a yelp, as Jack coughs, sucking in deep, rattling breaths as he slumps down the wall.

You do not go to him.

Elvis’ lapse in rage is short lived, for he sees Red and turns on him quickly with another roar, throwing brutal punches. You see on Red’s face that he knows exactly why Elvis is coming for him. A few punches land hard, and you hear more of the crack of flesh on flesh. You can’t help but smile a little inside at Red getting what’s coming to him, but horrified at yourself, you push that thought right out of your brain.

But there is a reason Red is Elvis’ bodyguard. He’s tough and scrappy and much more prepared for a fight than Jack was. You can see he doesn’t want to hurt Elvis but blocks and dodges some of his punches more readily. Four of the Mafia surround Elvis now, grabbing his arms, his waist, holding him back from Red, holding him down.

Elvis struggles against them and lets out one last terrifying primal cry before they get him subdued, pushing him to his knees. His chest heaves as they continue to hold his arms, his chin lowered, those lethal blue eyes peering out from under the black hair falling in his face. They still home in on Jack and Red, who are licking their wounds at the other end of the living room.

Adrenaline courses through you, your heart threatening to pound through your ribs, the blood rushing in your ears, as you watch four men have to hold down the man you love to keep him from killing the men that hurt you. And you aren’t entirely sure how to feel about that. A small part of you is frightened by this side of Elvis, how he is gone so deep into his rage that the man you know is barely there at all. And you can’t help but feel responsible for this turn in him.

But another part of you feels vindicated and relieved and almost proud of his defense of you. Part of you swells with so much love for him that you want to fall to your knees and kiss him as if your life depended on it.

“You sonofabitch. You fucking wife-stealing asshole,” Jack rasps out bitterly at Elvis, cowering on the floor with Red and a couple of the other men surrounding him.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” some of the guys cry, having to hold Elvis back from going ballistic again. His glare at Jack is so fierce, you think the look alone might kill him from across the room.

But you don’t stop to find out because you wrench out of Jerry’s grasp and somehow make it over to Jack before your brain catches up with your body. You don’t even have time to think twice before your hand pulls back and slaps open-handed across Jack’s cheek, the smack reverberating in your ears and stinging through your hand and up your arm.

But you don’t care.

Silence falls over the room once more. Jack stares up at you wide-eyed, with shocked indignation.

“Shut the fuck up, Jack,” you seethe, now fully infuriated that the man you once loved had hurt you so badly, in so many ways. “You lost me a long time ago, and Elvis had nothing to do with it, you cheating, lying, drunken bastard!” You lean over into his face, your voice low and biting, “And don’t you ever, ever, lay your hands on me again, or next time I won’t stop him from tearing you apart.”

You watch the mixture of surprise and contempt and fear play over Jack’s features for a moment before stepping back. You look back at Elvis and see his lip curl into a sly grin.

And then it all hits you at once. All your mistakes. Everyone staring at you in shock. Your dirty laundry aired out for all to see. The blood and pain bruising on your face, your head pounding, your vision hazy. The mortifying violence that has occurred in your name. Your lover almost murdering your husband.

Oh, god.

Suddenly, vertigo hits you hard and you are so dizzy that the room swims and sways in front of you. The bile rises so quickly that you don’t even have time to process what is happening before you are hurling your dinner onto the shag carpet.

Something is quite wrong, you realize. All your anger and doubts and regrets and love drain from you with a tingling coolness, and everything and everyone feels very far away, their cries muffled by the pain in your head. Then you fall into a dark oblivion, leaving the pain and consequences of your actions far, far behind, and you wonder fleetingly if it was all worth it.

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tamrielic · 21 days

Text

pairing – thoma × gn!reader

fandom | media – genshin impact

word count – 1,595・AO3

summary – you’re feeling miserable, and thoma wants to do everything he can to help!

tags﹠warnings – fluff・hurt/comfort・tooth–rotting fluff・thoma is a ray of sunshine・worried thoma・references to depression・reader is depressed・thoma is here to help

originally posted on – 11/12/2022

author’s note (11/12/2022) – i wrote this for one of my closest and most beloved besties because they’ve been going through it lately and struggling with life, and i figured i’d post it on here too just in case it’s able to provide anyone else with comfort! hopefully it’s vague enough in most aspects to do so! also this is my first time even attempting to write thoma so i really hope i did our beloved perfect malewife justice!

The sunset makes the sky appear as though it’s on fire, and you admire the view as you watch the cuihua and aralia leaves flutter through the breeze from the window seat in the room the Kamisato siblings so graciously assigned to you.

Pressing your forehead against the chilled glass, you close your eyes and sigh, your body and mind feeling heavy with fatigue.

You hear the door open and close but don’t bother to turn and look; you know who it is, you’d recognize those footsteps anywhere.

Warm hands come to rest on your shoulders, lightly massaging them as you feel him press a soft kiss to the top of your head in greeting.

“Hi, Thoma,” you murmur, leaning back into him and feeling his warm chest press to your back.

“Hey there, sweetheart,” he chuckles, bending over you just enough for you to glimpse his gorgeous green eyes, always full of love for you.

“Done already?” You inquire, surprised that he’s managed to get through all of his usual evening chores and duties so quickly – it wasn’t even dark out yet, and he usually wasn’t finished until after night had fallen.

Thoma hums, nuzzling his face into your hair and breathing you in. “Mhm, I made sure to work extra hard today and hurry so I could be with you.”

Turning to face him instead of the window, you raise an eyebrow at him. “Be with me?”

“Of course, why wouldn’t I want to spend time with you?” He questions, meeting your raised brow with one of his own.

“I don’t know, I’ve been kind of a bummer lately,” you shrug, looking down to avoid his gaze.

His ungloved hand grasps your chin, gently tilting your head back up to meet his eyes.

“I disagree, you’ve just been feeling down, but you should know by now that I always want to spend time with you, bummer or not,” he says, pressing his forehead to yours, a small smile on his lips.

You can’t help but to return his smile, reaching up to wrap your arms around him.

“How do you always know what to say, hm?”

“Oh, you know, just having known you for a while… and maybe the fact that I’m ridiculously in love with you, that may help too,” he winks at you, laughing when you scrunch up your nose at him.

His laugh never fails to make you feel warm and fuzzy inside, and your smile grows.

“Hm, I guess that makes sense,” you murmur, eyes shimmering with emotions left unsaid.

Reaching to cradle your face in his hands, he presses a sweet, insistent kiss upon your lips.

“I’m so lucky to be in love with one of the most beautiful and wonderful people in the world, wouldn’t you say?”

Shrugging, you covered his hands with your own. “I’m in love with the most perfect man to ever exist, so who’s really winning here?”

Thoma laughs again, nuzzling his nose against yours and brushing his thumbs across your cheekbones, not commenting on your misty eyes.

“I’m hardly perfect… but I’m glad you think so, sweetheart,” he chuckles, shaking his head.

Inhaling deeply, you slowly stand up, bringing your now clasped hands down between you.

“So did you have plans, or did you just miss me so desperately you needed to hurry?” You tease, tilting your head and trying to hide the small shake in your voice.

Gently walking backwards, guiding you to sit on the plush bed, he brushes your hair out of your face and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“I was thinking, if you wanted to, we could cuddle up with some hot tea and read together?”

You nod, suddenly overwhelmed with emotion.

He smiles softly at you, squeezing your hands before stepping away. “I’ll be right back then, dear.”

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to not start crying as soon as he’s out of sight.

It always gets like this around your birthday, you are always overcome with an intense bout of depression and this year was unfortunately worse than usual.

You scooch back to set up the pillows so you can lean against the headboard comfortably, hugging your knees to your chest as you wait and trying not to get lost in your head.

Sooner than you expected, Thoma comes back into the room balancing a tray of tea with one hand and holding a tin of something in the other.

Nodding at the tin, you raise your brows in question.

Smiling sheepishly, he places the tea tray on the side table and shrugs.

“I just figured you might like something sweet, it’s okay if you don’t though!”

Your bottom lip shakes as you are once again hit with how perfect Thoma is, and how you don’t deserve him.

Suddenly there is a weight right beside you, hands holding yours and lifting them up to press soft kisses to your fingers.

“Hey, hey… what’s wrong? Is it the cookies? I’m sorry, I can get you something else, maybe Miss Kamisato–”

“I’m a failure and I don’t deserve you,” you blurt out, choking down a sob as the tears that have been building up all day finally escape and run down your face.

Thoma just stares at you for a brief moment, seemingly processing what you’ve said before he starts shaking his head, frowning.

“What are you talking about, sweetheart? You’re not a failure at all, and of course you deserve me!” He insists, staring into your teary eyes earnestly.

“I just feel like I should be better by now, you know? I’m happy that the Kamisato’s are willing to house me, and it allows us to be together more, but I…” you breathe shakily, staring at your hands that he’s still holding, gripping onto you near desperately at this point.

“I just feel like a burden, a failure. I should be doing something more with my life than just helping keep accounts straight for the trade routes,” you finish, glancing up at him to find him observing you closely.

Thoma takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly.

“Okay, do you want me to help and reassure you, or do you just need to vent it out?” He asks softly, squeezing your hands in assurance.

You shrug, unable to get more words out through the silent crying.

He nods resolutely, glancing down at your hands and biting his lip before looking back up and meeting your eyes with determination.

“First of all… you’re amazing, and so smart, and you make me feel so proud of you every day for the tiniest things you do,” he murmurs, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Secondly, you’re not a burden at all, my lord and lady Kamisato adore you almost as much as I do and love having you here, you’re practically family!”

You’ve fully given up on trying to stop crying, tears running down your hot cheeks as you take shaky breaths to try to calm yourself down, now overwhelmed with both despair and happiness.

“I love you, so much that I feel like I’m going to explode sometimes, and so if you’re unhappy we can look into you doing something different!” He insists, caressing your face with his hands and brushing your tears away as his open, honest eyes captivate you.

“I know it’s a lot, and your feelings are very valid, but we can do our best to figure things out together, if that’s something you’d want?”

Nodding, you can’t help but to let out a watery laugh that causes a gorgeous smile to light up Thoma’s face.

Pulling you close to him, he presses light kisses all over your face, chuckling when you groan.

“Ew, Thoma, I’ve been crying!” You exclaim, gently pushing his face away with one hand, trying to cover up your teary and mildly snotty face with the other in embarrassment.

Shaking his head at you with a fond smile, he reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the box of tissues to hand to you.

Immediately grabbing a bunch and cleaning your face as best you can, you finally look back up at him with a flustered smile.

Moving to press up against you as he leans down and goes back to fluttering kisses across your face with a smitten grin, you can’t help but soak in the tiny declarations of love that he’s pressing to your skin.

Eventually he pulls away after pressing a final kiss to the tip of your nose and tucking some loose strands of hair behind your ears.

Sighing, you lean your head on his chest, listening to his heart beat firmly against your ear.

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you to practically be on top of him as he rubs your back with one hand and runs his fingers through your hair with the other, beginning to hum a quiet tune.

“The tea’s gonna get cold,” you whisper, nuzzling your head between his neck and shoulder.

Chuckling softly, he doesn’t move. “It’s not a problem, we can stay like this for however long you need, okay?” He murmurs, and you love how you can feel his voice in his chest when he’s got you pressed to him like this.

“Okay,” you reply, eyes drifting closed as you’re lulled to sleep by Thoma’s presence and the release of emotions you just experienced. “I love you.”

You feel him smile from where his face is pressed to the top of your head.

“I love you too, sweetheart, and I always will.”

© kaeyaphile | tamrielic – please do not modify, repost, plagiarize and/or claim any of my work as your own and please do not promote any of my works on other social media platforms (tiktok, facebook, wattpad, etc.)

#𖹭 – kayleigh.writes #genshin impact #genshin #thoma #thoma genshin impact #genshin impact thoma #thoma genshin #genshin thoma #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #thoma x reader #gn!reader #gender neutral reader #genshin impact x gn!reader #genshin x gn!reader #thoma x gn!reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #genshin x gender neutral reader #thoma x gender neutral reader

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periprose · 1 year

Text

Ghost

Neteyam x Metkayina!Reader

Neteyam left this world too early. The emptiness everyone feels is palpable- you don't know how to go on. But you're not so important. Your name is Kanu -meaning smart, or intelligent, in Na'vi- and sometimes you feel anything but. As a Metkayina villager, you feel that you don't have any reason to actually miss Neteyam so much. So why does Eywa keep bringing you to him, in the Spirit Tree?

Word Count: 10k

Genre: Slow burn, friends to lovers, grieving/mourning, post ATWOW

Originally posted on AO3 in December 2022

The puddle grows larger as you stab it with your foot. Digging in your toes into the pale grains of sand, you watch as the little molecules of water begin to swirl.

You’re deep in thought. You’re wondering about your place in the world, and you see a tiny, baby tsiki- a reef tick or crab- emerge out of the sand . It pinches it’s claws together- it’s an extremely alluring green shade, and you point one of your turquoise feet at it.

It blinks all four eyes before suddenly seizing forward, click clacking and tutting before pinching your big toe.

“Ah, kehe! ” You screech, meaning no, and you inhale, before kicking the tsiki off and huffing, wrapping your arms around yourself. Usually tsiki are meant to be gentle, not harmful- they often pluck sand out of your toenails and seaweed out of your curly hair- but this one is just a baby, and is clearly curious and weird. It scuttles away into the deep blue waters, and you sigh.

“Kanu.” Tsireya stands before you, and she motions her hand in an oel-ngati-kameie, I-See-you gesture, before sitting down next to you on the knitted stringy material of the bridges connecting the marui, the woven structures that inhabit your village. You repeat the action. “Why did you leave? Lo’ak and Kiri are worried.”

“Tsireya.” You turn to your dearest friend- you’ve grown up with her, and she has always been comforting and sweet. She always knows just what to say.

But after the Sky People attacked the reef- after they practically flipped your world upside down, causing nearly permanent damage, you felt like you could’ve died in that moment. And even though that was scary, what really terrified you was that your life flashed before your eyes, and you could not think of anything notable, anything special about yourself. Nothing good, no sense of call or action.

Really just in the background at all times.

Tsireya, the sweetheart that she is, does not really always understand. She is beautiful- you see other boys in the tribe stare her down all the time, and it’s not with the usual annoyance or indifference that they stare at you with. That, and she’s very clever, and kind, and she’s the daughter of the Olo’eyktan. She was always meant to be special.

You, on the other hand? The Metkayina daughter of two ordinary parents. They do not think less of you, in fact, they are always going on about how smart you are to stay back from danger, from anything that could put you in harm’s way. But you do not do this on purpose- you just feel that you are already rather unimportant in the grand scheme of things, so what would be the point? To try and play the hero? Be someone that ultimately, you are not?

You can never figure out when to strike like Tsireya, Aonung and Rotxo seem to know. Your ilu is forgiving- she pulls you through the water at a pace you’re good to deal with- but forget hunting. You do your best.

You are not pretty. Your hair stays pulled back unappealingly in a braided bun, and your bangs are straight and wispy. Your eyes are always skeptical, which you know throws many off. It’s not that you can’t smile and play nice- you just like to figure people out.

But to know how you look, how you just… lack the attractiveness that Tsireya seems to exude so easily, it hurts you. Especially when you feel like you like someone, and they could never feel the same about you, because you’re just impossibly awkward.

Still, you miss him. You miss Neteyam. You wish you had, just this once, taken the risk- told him that you like him. He was always responsible, strong-hearted. The only one to ask if you were okay or how you were doing, and he would actually listen. It never felt like he was just passing time, or waiting for you to get on with it, the way many Na’vi males do. Like the way he might as a big brother to little Tuk, but with you, he was always kind. Neteyam always seemed to wait back for you, even when others had moved on, and you had never, not even once, told him how that important that was for you.

And now you are desperately alone, all over again. It’s been about three months since he died, and you have never felt more empty.

You will never be Seen. Not in the way that Tsireya and Lo’ak See each other.

“Do you ever feel like you just haven’t acted soon enough? Like you haven’t done enough with your life?” You blink, and suddenly tears are rolling down your cheeks. You didn’t realized you were near tears. Neteyam’s death had affected everyone so heavily.

“Kanu, no…” She leans in, and wraps her arm around your shoulders. “You are not worthless. Our Great Mother has a purpose for us all .”

It’s a fear you’ve voiced plenty of times before, but Tsireya is always patient, always ready to fight your words.

“I don’t think so.” You shake your head, and then slump down into your knees, your eyes fluttering as you cry. “Kanu, they named me. My mother said it was so I would always be smart, be wise about things, but who would have thought that meant being so… so weak?”

“Being sensible isn’t being weak.” Tsireya tries to remind you gently. “You are careful, but what is wrong with that? Have you seen how Lo’ak and Aonung are ready to fight at every moment one looks at the other the wrong way?”

“I guess so…” You wipe some of your tears, and she squeezes your hand with a familiar warmth. “Still. I wish I was like you, Reya.”

She shakes her head, but smiles. “I think you are better than you think. You have a beautiful mind, my friend.”

Tsireya leads you back to the Sully marui, and Lo’ak is currently chasing Tuk around, as she shrieks in unabashed joy. She gets scooped up by Tsireya, and immediately hugs her tightly.

That’s the kind of effect Tsireya seems to have on everyone.

Lo’ak, too, leans in, brings his arm around her shoulders, and they look like a picture. One happy family of three. Tsireya the doting mother to Lo’ak’s teasing fatherly nature, and Tuk as the little scoundrel.

That could never be you. It leaves a small lump in your throat, to think of how you might never meet your better half- you will probably always be cooped up in your own marui, lying in the hammock, dreaming of a better world. And the sad thing is that you know there is a chance this is your own doing, but you are just too scared to do anything else.

You are a coward. A fnawe’tu.

Tsireya and Lo’ak don’t seem to help, all wrapped up in their own little bubble of understanding and Seeing each other, as they seem to communicate something in glances that only the two of them understand, but Tuk clues in to your bad mood.

“What’s wrong, Kanu?” She pouts and sits next to you.

You smile sadly. The girl is too young to really feel the extent of grief, just yet. She means well, though, and you cannot let her feel the full nature of your sorrow. It would not be fair.

Kiri answers for you, as she sits against a pillow, observing the oceans outside. “We’ve been through a lot, Tuk. It’s going to be a while until everyone feels alright again.”

“Yeah, Tuk.” You smile with a little more kindness, trying to muster up understanding. She’s still lost her biggest brother, and that has to hurt. “Little Tuktirey. Are you doing alright?”

Tuk nods, but she suddenly climbs into your lap, wrapping her arms tightly around around you, her face nuzzling into your neck, and it’s all you can do not to cry in the little girl’s arms.

“I miss Neteyam.” She whispers, and you hug her back, stroking the braids of her hair. "I miss home."

“We all do.” Kiri responds softly, and a brief silence overtakes the marui, everyone becoming solemn. Lo’ak and Tsireya sit next to Kiri, and you’ve formed a circle.

“Perhaps we should speak good memories of Neteyam, instead.” Tsireya suggests, and Lo’ak’s eyes flutter to a close. You can tell he’s trying to compose himself.

“He always knew how to protect us.” Lo’ak smiles. “When I first bonded with my ikran, Neteyam was supposed to stay back.”

“Ikran are supposed to try to kill you when you fight them,” He clarifies, seeing that you and Tsireya both look a little confused. “But Neteyam, that skxawng, he jumped over the barrier and tried to help me. Dad pulled him back.”

Lo’ak chuckles, and you find yourself giggling at the imagery. Of Neteyam leaping after his brother, convinced that he needed to, and Jake grabbing him by the arms. It would have been just like him.

“Neteyam always stood up for me.” Kiri responds honestly, and it’s all she seems to be comfortable with sharing.

“Neteyam helped me practise with my knife.” Tuk motions with her hands, a quick slicing gesture, snarling, and you pretend to die as she giggles. “He said I was gonna be a good hunter one day.”

“You will.” You fixate on your hands. “Neteyam always… well, he always listened. I never felt like I had to talk fast with him to be heard.”

“To be Seen.” Tsireya adds, and you don’t want to disagree with her. But you don’t think Neteyam really saw you.

There just wasn’t enough time.

A loud conch shell wakes you up, and you accidentally smack Kiri in the face as you do.

“Watch it!” She yawns, before pulling herself up.

You don’t usually fall asleep so easily. But you were so comfortable yesterday, playing games and sharing stories with everyone, that you did not feel as lost as you usually do.

Tuk snores away, wrapped up on her pillow, and you and Kiri decide to leave her.

There’s always work to be done on the reef. Repairing the marui, weaving with your hands, making large batches of tsiki stew, helping Tsahik Ronal with healing the wounded. Some of the people are still in very poor shape.

It takes the whole village on these days to get things even a little further with progress. It makes you resent the Sky People even more.

A bitter part of you wishes Neteyam had merely been wounded. Then he would still be here.

But you know better than that. You know that you have much to be thankful for, and you know that Eywa can only protect so much. In the great balance, energy has to be given back. That will always be the Na’vi way.

Kiri, in her own strange way, always seems attuned to things you cannot sense or see. She alway seems to know something, past your comprehension, and the best answer she has for it is an energy, a wave length, a heartbeat. Eywa is all around us, Kiri always tells you, and you know she is right.

Lately she has been giving you more attention, too. It’s like she can tell something about you, and you are glad for it. Glad that you can cling onto Kiri for the time being, because she understands so much even if she can’t quite say it.

“Want one?” She sits next to you on the edge of the shore, holding some niktsyey. Food wraps.

You’re not always so hungry as of late, but you know it’s a nice gesture. Kiri and Neytiri are always preparing, wrapping food out of various meats and vegetables, and it feels like they’re just searching for something to do. To be busy.

As a result, they have a lot of excess.

You take it, and unwrap the leaf, biting into a juicy bit of payoang- fish of the reef- and some grains you’re not sure you’ve ever had before. It’s good, better than anything you’ve eaten in a while.

“You like it?” She grins, and you respond with a “Mm-hmm!”, your mouth entirely full. “The grains are from home.”

At the word home, she sounds a little sad.

“Is this a traditional Omatikayan dish?” You try to cheer her up, maybe bolster her spirits with some memories. “It’s amazing.”

“Yes. Grandmother always made it better than I do. And we usually use teylu, too. Insect meat.” Kiri admits, twiddling her fingers. “We brought a lot with us… you could try making it, if you wish.”

You do have an affinity for cooking- but you’re much better with large stews and soups. You know Kiri is just trying to suggest something nice, though, and you agree that one day you should do that. Together.

It’s nice to have a friend.

About a week later, Tsireya is horribly insistent that you come with her, Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk to the Cove of Ancestors, to the Spirit Tree. The boy, Spider, one that you don’t know so well- he dislikes having to be away from things like this, but even he insists that you should go.

“I just- I don’t feel like it, that’s all.” You try, but Lo’ak shakes his head.

“You cannot reject Eywa, Kanu. You'll lose yourself." Lo'ak says, uncharacteristically serious, but he's had to grow a lot during Neteyam's absence.

"We know you're hurting." Tsireya stands next to him, and something about her use of we strikes you, deep in your heart, making you feel more like a loner than ever before. Her and Lo'ak seem like such a team now.

"It would help, don't you think?" She continues. "So you know you're not… alone. The ancestors will hear you."

You can tell it confuses them. Your great sorrow, how you seem to desperately hold onto it. But lately it's felt like all you've ever known, and you do not know how to explain that, that you feel comfort knowing yourself like this. At least it makes sense.

It is a strange predicament that seems hard to explain.

"She's not alone." Kiri corrects her, which Tsireya takes gracefully. "Kanu has us."

It's true, and so you let yourself be cajoled and ride your ilu towards the Cove of Ancestors, where the underwater tree resides. Kiri is not supposed to join her tsaheylu to the Tree anymore, so she watches on, looking slightly wistful.

You're scared as you dive underwater. You don't know what the ancestors might say if they hear your sadness. How you shouldn't be so sorrowful when Neteyam meant more to others, and you have nothing to truly be very upset about. But Tsireya and Lo’ak nod at you, so you know you have to do it.

You grab your tsaheylu, and gently brace yourself, as if it's going to hurt- and you let the tendrils bond into the tree's swaying branches. Your eyes close.

You are brought forward, so quickly that you're not quite sure what's happening, until suddenly you're on very solid ground.

You think you feel grains of sand, but really- it's more dense than that, and you open your eyes.

Dark green foliage, leaves and trees and massive tree trunks, and interestingly colored flora surrounds you.

This must be the Omatikaya forest, you think. You've never been there before. You've never had such a strong vision in the first place. Anytime you’ve made the bond with the Spirit Tree before, you usually hear your grandmother telling you that she's proud of you.

You watch as a flying lizard floats down in front of you, the spinning of its ribbed body causing you to follow it. You're not very familiar with this place- it's apparent in how your arms sway with confusion, and how your tail seems to drag behind you, instead of properly keeping your balance like the Omatikaya's do.

You trip over a branch and fall forwards into a small riverbed. The water tastes different- it's not as salty as the beaches you are familiar with. But you feel a strong, limber arm grab your own thick forearm, and you are pulled upwards as you stand.

"Kanu?" Neteyam stands in front of you, and you are gutted to see him. He looks the same as when you lost him, still alert, and even now he scans your body for damage. "You okay?"

"Neteyam…" You whisper, and your eyes water almost instantly. This is not what you wanted. You never expected to see him again, and you feel humiliated by everything surrounding you.

It's as if you’ve walked into a memory that was not made for you. You are of no importance, especially not here, not now, not with him. Why would Eywa bring you here?

"Hey, hey. It's gonna be okay." He says comfortingly as you cry, and you think you should be comforting him. "Whatever happened, it will be okay."

He hugs you, just a gentle sidearm hug, and you begin to sob.

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry-" You wail, and he furrows his brows, not understanding.

"Why?" He grabs your hands. "Why are you sorry?"

It dawns on you that Neteyam doesn’t know. He doesn’t understand that he's dead, away from the real world. It's such a convincing vision, this place.

It’s not your story to tell, is it? What would Jake Sully say? Neytiri, too, she would be disappointed to know that you leapt so forward, into telling their oldest son that he no longer walked among you.

But you cannot help yourself.

"You're… you're gone, Neteyam. Dead. You're not really here." You feel that he deserves to know, and he stiffens. "You are with Eywa now."

You can see him scrambling to answer, his eyes flickering from you to the forest, but his voice fails him. He cannot explain your appearance in the Omatikaya forest, let alone him being here when he was just at the reef, so it makes sense.

Neteyam shuts his eyes.

“That’s why-” He chokes up, and you feel him shudder next to you. “That’s why Dad was so happy to see me.”

It’s a sadness that overwhelms you. The thought of a father having to pretend that everything was alright, so not to alarm his son. You see Neteyam cry, and it’s so unlike how Neteyam usually was back home, that you feel yourself reach over to wrap your hands around his.

“It’s not your fault, Neteyam.” You whisper, and you’re glad you finally have the courage to say that much before you’re suddenly brought back, away from the cool winds of the forest, and into the cool ripples of the ocean. The last thing you see is Neteyam’s eyes, searching for you as you vanish from his sight.

Kiri and Tuk have already gone back home.

Tsireya and Lo’ak don’t ask many questions when you come to, even though you’re sure you look insane, totally stupefied by what you saw. You know Eywa doesn’t do things for no reason, but you’re still confused.

You just tell Tsireya that honestly, you do feel better, because it’s all you can say without sounding crazy. Because it doesn’t seem fair that you, a mere acquaintance of Neteyam’s, would end up being the one to visit him again. You know Lo’ak hasn’t seen him yet, even though he tries every week or so.

It would be the worst thing to tell them the truth about it.

Tsireya pats your arm. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Kanu. The ancestors always know what to say.”

You smile, but you can’t help but feel that you’re lying to your best friend.

You visit again, two days later. You tell Tsireya that you are going to visit a different Metkayina village, where your cousins live- she doesn’t question you, as she’s too busy exploring the depths of the ocean with Lo’ak, Tuk and Kiri as of late- and even though your lie is so easily accepted, it makes you feel more outside to their circle.

But that’s okay for now. You just want to apologize to Neteyam, if Eywa lets you see him again.

When you make the bond with the tree, this time, you’re sent to what seems like one of your village’s marui- but this woven structure is high up in the air, tightly secured inside the branches of a tree. Maybe one of the largest trees you’ve ever seen.

You peer out the window, and seeing how far down the grass is, you jump back in fear, your legs suddenly shaking. You’re in no real danger, but it’s still terrifying, seeing little specks of blue that must surely be other Na’vi that have joined with Eywa.

“Hey. Take it easy.” Neteyam is behind you, and he pulls you by your arm, making the both of you sit on the flooring of the structure. “You look like you’ve seen Toruk.”

“Sorry- it’s just very high up.” You say, and your voice is shaky even though you try to stay calm.

“Of course.” Neteyam crosses his arms, nods his head, wise as ever. “You’re probably never stepped higher than the great branches of the sea trees.”

“Yes, that is true.” You still feel a minor tremor in your throat, so you pull your knees to your chest and huddle yourself down. You don’t want to be so high up- it’s as if you’re being forced to face too many things at once.

“Why are you here?” Neteyam asks, not in an accusatory tone, but just confused. “You've already told me what you wanted to say."

It's not all you wanted to say, but your face heats up at the idea of telling Neteyam that you like him, that you like how his big yellow eyes squinted at every possible detail when he was hunting, that he always used to do a headcount, not just of his siblings, but everyone including you when you headed out past the reef.

"I don't… I don't know." You shrug, and then look up towards the sky. "I feel that Eywa brought me here to apologize."

"Apologize?"

You turn to him, and Neteyam leans a little closer.

"I shouldn't have been the one to tell you." You utter so seriously that Neteyam’s brief smile disappears. "I'm sorry. It should have been your father. Or Lo'ak."

"No." Neteyam shakes his head. "They wouldn't have told me. My mom and dad pretend I'm not- I'm still alive, in some way, to them, you know? I cannot take that away from them. And I've never seen Lo'ak. He must feel like the worst son in the world."

"He's not angry at you, if that's what you think." You immediately interject, and Neteyam raises his eyebrows. "Lo'ak has grown a lot since you've been gone."

Neteyam sighs. "Things would be easier if I was still there."

"Of course." You gently touch his shoulder. "It's easy to say that, Neteyam. But you win some, you lose some. We wouldn't have learned so much if you were still here, and you wouldn't be able to rest."

Neteyam nods. "True. All energy is only borrowed…"

"And some day you have to give it back." You respond in turn.

Neteyam smiles. "Tell me how everyone is doing."

You tell him how Kiri is doing better than usual. She's become more resilient, being capable of controlling the nature around her in a way that doesn't quite make sense to you. Neteyam, too, doesn't know how to respond, but he says it's an interesting thought that a supposed freak like Kiri could be so useful. He laughs about how Aonung and Rotxo were shocked to see her move fauna around with just a wave of her hand.

You start to tell him about Tuk's knife practice, when suddenly you catch some of the leaves surrounding the vision shrinking. You're being pulled away. Back to the real Pandora.

Neteyam looks on in alarm. "Kanu!"

"One last thing- they all miss you so much!" You say genuinely, and as you get pulled away this time, you see Neteyam smile.

You just wish you could've included yourself in that.

The next time you visit Neteyam, he's in what seems to be a very intimate home setting, trinkets and blankets covering the setting. He’s combing back his grandfather's hair. You can tell it must be Neytiri’s father by the robes and beading he's adorned with.

You immediately sweep down into a deep bow. "Olo’eyktan."

"Kanu." The elderly man touches your forehead, blessing you. "Neteyam has told me much about you."

"Ah, Grandfather!" Neteyam cringes, visibly embarrassed by something you don't quite understand. Family can be like that.

"Please. Be on your way." Eytukan gives you his parting grace.

Neteyam is silent as you walk together through the forest, towards something that seems perpetually out of reach.

"What's wrong?" You ask, and Neteyam stands still, mulling over his words.

"My grandfather… he means well, but-" Neteyam sighs, exasperated. "But he does not understand that I never wanted to be Olo’eyktan. He keeps telling me what I am missing out on."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he never seems to hear what I'm saying-"

"No, sorry." You look at him with newfound interest. "You don't want to be Olo’eyktan?"

"Well, Kanu." Neteyam fixes his visor, and thinks about how cute you look when you stare at him this intensely, before clearing his throat and deciding it would be better to not. "If you were told you could only be one thing in your entire life, wouldn't you want something else?"

"Yes!" You exhale in excitement before calming down. "Everyday, I think about that."

You trail off to a silence, meaning to allow Neteyam to explain himself. But he gestures for you to keep going. Once the oldest sibling, always the oldest sibling.

"I've always been told. Be smart. Stay inside. Don't put yourself in harm's way if you don't have to." You murmur, and Neteyam can tell your parents have hammered that into your head. "I'm left feeling like I've never quite lived at all."

"Tell me about it." Neteyam agrees, rolling his eyes. "'Oi, Neteyam! Be responsible! Be a good role model for your siblings!' I never really got to be myself."

"Fair enough." You look at your surroundings, thinking about how this isn't really Pandora. "But you can be yourself now, can't you?"

"You would think so." Neteyam chuckles, slowing his pace down to a stroll. "But everyday I'm worrying about what those knuckleheads are up to."

"What if…" You smile at the idea. "I give you updates? Just little stories about them here and there?"

“That would be nice.” Neteyam agrees, but he twiddles with his fingers. “I only wish they would come to see me too.”

“Oh, Neteyam…” You hold your hand over his. “I’m sure they will one day. Lo’ak, Kiri, Spider and Tuk, I think they’re just not ready yet.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”

Neteyam looks towards you, and gently fixes a strand of your hair behind your ears. “Just promise me you’ll tell me how you’re doing, too.”

Neteyam is quick on his feet the next time you see him. He pulls you towards him and you're on your way, running over tall tree branches and trunks.

"Where- are-" You narrowly dodge a large vine that swings towards your face. "Where are we going?"

"Ayram alusìng!"

The floating mountains.

You don't have time to ask. You’ve only heard of these in stories told by Jake and Lo’ak, and sometimes Tonowari, the Olo’eyktan, when he remembers travelling to the forests. You’re excited to see them- and you find that you’re not the only one, as Neteyam grasps your hand with intent and pulls you quickly alongside him.

Suddenly, the large vines and branches you were walking on are within an open space, connecting to tall floating mountains, and you take a moment to breathe in, and look at them. They’re so vast- so much bigger in breadth than you’ve ever imagined- and it’s beautiful, in a way that you can’t describe. You smile, and Neteyam grins looking at you.

“This is how I felt looking underwater for the first time.” Neteyam confides in you, and your eyes widen.

“This is way better than the underwater, Neteyam.” You cross your arms, and he laughs.

“Agree to disagree, then.” He motions towards the top of the mountain, and the vines that you must climb to get there. “Come.”

As you climb, and then reach the top, your legs shake for a moment, seeing just how high up you are. You pull yourself away from the edge of the cliff, before Neteyam grabs your hand.

"Hey. I'm not letting you go back home yet." He teases, and you feel yourself blush.

"Sorry." You swing your large tail, so used to wading through water, from side to side. "This wasn't made to balance in the air."

“Don’t worry.” Neteyam points to the sky, where Ikran fly and dive towards the ground. “They’re made for anything you could possibly do in the sky.”

“How are they-”

“How are they here?” Neteyam glances at you. You always seem to be on top of things, always asking the right questions. It’s kind of refreshing, because he doesn’t have to play dumb for you, like he might’ve with Lo’ak. Especially when nothing particularly interesting goes on here without you.

That’s not something he’d easily admit- that the highlights of his days in the afterlife is when you come to visit him. But it’s true. He looks forward to your banter, to that funny little scrunch you do with your nose when you’ve thought of something hilarious to say.

Even now, you stare at him, and Neteyam is a little too lost in your gaze to respond.

“...Neteyam?”

He shakes himself out of it. “Right. It sounds crazy, but… I think these are Ikran who have passed. They’ve joined Eywa.”

“How can you be sure?” You watch an Ikran screech and dive towards another, and they begin to fight. “Perhaps these are just more visions of Eywa’s.”

“You’re right.” Neteyam points to a bright turquoise blue Ikran, one that looks at him fondly when he waves. “But that one over there? Her name is Seze.”

“Blue flower?”

“Yes.” Neteyam waves back at her. “She was my mother’s Ikran. At least I think she is the same one, but I can’t be sure. She matches how my mother talked about her. And she responds to… Seze!”

Neteyam suddenly leaps over the rocky terrain, and approaches Seze, who turns to his call.

“Wait!” You try to call him back.

“Ikran are only supposed to fly with one person in their entire lives.” Neteyam climbs onto Seze’s back, and she allows him. “But I figure, if we’re dead, if all of this is with Eywa, then I guess that doesn’t matter here.”

He makes the bond with Seze, and her pupils widen before becoming still and small again. Then she shakes her wings, and approaches the cliff.

Neteyam pulls his headband down, and he tuts a war cry, before he and Seze drop off the cliff in a graceful dive.

“Neteyam!” You gasp in shock, and before you can stop yourself, you scramble near the edge of the cliff, lying flat on your stomach, letting yourself see if they’re okay.

And of course they are. Neteyam pulls up as Seze’s wings expand, and he does a few rotating flips in the air. He looks back, towards you, because he wants to make sure you’re watching. Yeah, Neteyam is showing off right now, but he never got to do that back in the Metkayina village.

He missed this. Missed flying, the wind in his hair. But most of all, he loves the look on your face- how you’re completely in awe.

He smirks at you, and you snort. The dorkiness of this guy, going out of his way to plan an elaborate scheme to show off something cool to you. And it is really cool, it just strikes you that Neteyam always does things that are in his control.

Lo’ak would’ve probably jumped off the cliff and onto an ikran to impress Tsireya,

Neteyam begins flying towards your cliff. He lets Seze land, and she chirps fondly at him as he dismounts.

"So, what'd you think?" Neteyam raises his arms in greatness, as if to accept accolades from you.

"That was insane. Totally amazing!" You giggle and clap for him, and he bows.

"Thank you, thank you." Neteyam leans in, as if he's telling you a secret that only you get to know. "So what do you think? Want to do your own Iknimaya? It's a rite of passage for the Omatikaya, but I think you could do it too. I mean, I don't know what would happen if a living person made tsaheylu with someone not-"

An ikran screeches, interrupting Neteyam, and you draw yourself back, frightened.

"Sorry. I can't." You rest yourself against the cliff wall, as you've been shaking from being so close to the edge, and Neteyam nods, expecting you to continue. "You must think I'm such a petulant child."

"Would a child really use a word like 'petulant?'" Neteyam tuts, and you scoff.

"No. But I'm pretty stupid, aren't I?" You look at the ground, feeling embarrassed that you're scared of such a thing. "Lo'ak says he did his Iknimaya as a child… what am I so afraid for?"

You look up at Neteyam. "I can never do anything right. I'll always end up hiding away out of fear."

"Fear is a sensible thing coming from you, Kanu ." Neteyam tightens the bindings around his arms, emphasizing your name and it's meaning. "And you're not stupid. It's alright to be afraid of things. Me, I was so scared when I first made tsaheylu with my ikran. I almost ran back into my mother's arms when I did it."

You stifle a laugh at the idea of little Neteyam running back towards his mother, Neytiri scooping him up and then putting him back out with the ikran.

"I know. It's funny, you can laugh." Neteyam smiles. "But you have to remember it took a leap of faith, of trusting myself, to do it."

"I say, don't be afraid to be uncomfortable." Neteyam holds your hand, and traces your thumb. "Take little steps here and there. Then, one day, you can do something more, and it won't be so bad. I'm sure you've grown more than you think."

It's classic Neteyam, to hit you with a bunch of advice right when you least expect it. There were plenty of times he would take the heat for Lo'ak, and then give a strict talking to him afterwards.

"You're right. Thank you." You admit softly, squeezing his hand back. "I do want to do more with my life."

"And you will." Neteyam nods, completely certain. "You're not stupid. I've never thought you were stupid."

You think of that for a moment, how certain he sounds in saying never. Did Neteyam really think of you before you even came to visit him? Before, when you all swam in the oceans of Pandora together, travelling through the corals and sea plants and the reef? Did he think about you, when there were far more interesting things to think about?

"Anyways." Neteyam clears his throat, suddenly shy. "Want to ride with me? On the back of Seze, I mean. I'll make sure you're safe."

"Why not?" You take his hand again. "Small steps."

Neteyam tells Seze to stay calm, and then sits on her back. He pulls you up, and then when you're sitting behind him, he wraps your arms around his waist.

You think about how warm, how real he feels, and then become a little sad knowing this isn't. That this is all happening in the Spirit Tree, not for real.

Neteyam cries out again, a high pitched sound meaning to go, and you both drop over the edge with Seze, as she dives and then flies around adjacent mountains. The green trees and leaves quickly shrink into tiny little dottings of green on the rocky terrain, and you widen your eyes.

You shriek in partial delight, mostly fear, and tighten your arms around Neteyam when he tells Seze to dive again. He snickers. He likes feeling your arms, though. It makes him feel warm all over, especially in his chest.

"It's fun, right?!" Neteyam shouts, and you laugh and say yes, even if your face is buried in his neck.

It's only around when Neteyam approaches a cliff to land at, that he feels your arms vanish from around his waist. He turns around, and realizes you've gone back to the real world.

When you go back this time, back to the village, Kiri and Tsireya are waiting for you. It’s past eclipse- everything is dark. Little bioluminescent fish roam through the water, and you stare at them for a moment, wondering what lie you could come up with now.

"Have a good time at the Cove?" Kiri crosses her arms, and you stop walking by the shore. "Yes, that's right. We know."

"Kiri…" Tsireya's tone is telling her to lay off. "I'm sure she didn't mean-"

"To lie to us? To avoid us?" Kiri huffs. "I thought you were our friend, Kanu."

"Wait, please. I can explain." You desperately interrupt her. “I am your friend.”

Kiri’s eyes soften. “Okay, then prove it.”

When you're back inside the marui, Lo'ak is waiting. Tsireya immediately takes his hand and sits next to him, which makes you frown.

“Kanu- it’s not that we’re mad about this, we just don’t understand.” Lo’ak says, and it’s as if he and Tsireya are already Olo’eyktan and Tsahik, leaders of a clan, stronger than you’ll ever be.

You hate being called out, but most of all, you hate how it comes from them. How they make such a resilient team. You are almost positive in the future that Lo’ak and Tsireya will lead the Metkayina.

“You don’t make time for us , anymore, Kanu.” Tsireya comes closer to you, and her eyes search yours, as if she wants to make sure you’re still you. "I miss you! I don't mind if the Cove of Ancestors brings you comfort. I just hope you're not angry with me."

You feel your eyes water. Of course you're not angry with Tsireya, but as you think it over a little, it's as if you began to pull away just because you assumed no one would notice if you were gone.

Clearly the opposite is true.

"I'm sorry." You utter quietly, and Tsireya touches your forearm, while Kiri touches your shoulder. "I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand. I don't hate you guys, and I never will. I just…"

You close your eyes, wondering if it's worth it. To tell the truth about why you've been disappearing. And a part of you feels so guilty, that you wanted to keep Neteyam just as your own private business, even though he's not your brother, and he means more to others. You have no right to keep him as yours.

"Ever since that first day you guys made me visit the Spirit Tree… I've been seeing Neteyam." You come clean, and you feel everyone gasp and move closer to you. "I don't know why. I'm sorry."

"Why would you keep that a secret?" Tsireya shakes her head, disappointed. "Do you not trust us?"

"Of course I do!" You don't know how to explain. "I… I just didn't think you guys wanted to know. I didn't know how to tell you without it sounding like I was special or something, or that I was leaving you out."

"But you did leave us out." Lo'ak finally speaks up, and you can see the conflict in his face, the anger he feels. "Why would Neteyam choose to see you ?"

" Lo'ak ." Kiri glares at him. "Stop it. She didn't mean it like that."

You feel your face turn warm, and your heart begins to ache. You don't want this. You don't want a fight.

"Whatever." Lo'ak rolls his eyes. "I wonder why I have never seen him."

"Don't worry, Lo'ak." Tsireya squeezes his shoulder. "I'm sure one day you will. Perhaps he is just working his way up to see you."

You know she doesn't mean it like that, but something about the way Tsireya comforts Lo'ak- how she asserts his importance over you, even though you were the first person Neteyam saw, after his parents- it makes you cry. You've never felt more unimportant in your life. You're a total mistake.

You don’t go to sleep very easily that night. You’re in your family’s Marui, and you toss and turn thinking about yourself. About your place in the world.

You know it isn’t right, but you want to ask Eywa why. Why she would let you do this, tear apart a family and become closer to Neteyam when clearly, it just isn’t meant to be anything. Maybe there’s a lesson you’re missing somewhere.

You never thought anyone really cared about you all that much. That you needed them more than they needed you. But you’re starting to think you’re wrong, that maybe most of this stuff is in your head. Why else would everyone miss you? Why else would they be so heartbroken that you didn’t tell them about Neteyam?

Kind of like Neteyam said. It’s all a leap of faith. You had to talk to Tsireya, Lo’ak and Kiri to find out.

You need to talk to him again. You absolutely cannot sleep, no matter how many times you shut your eyes and wrap your arms around yourself.

Your ilu chirps outside. And you take that as your sign to sneak out of your marui, under the bridging, and onto her back as she waits on the shore.

You wonder if anyone will be waiting for you there. You’re just slightly paranoid now.

But it’s just you, and the Cove, and the Spirit Tree, and you’re happy. You’re glad that you can talk to him one to one. Even if it’s a little selfish.

You make tsaheylu with the tree branch, and you feel yourself move quickly into the bioluminescent forest. It’s beautiful- you’re taken aback for a moment, seeing little lights and shiny things beam at you in the dark.

Neteyam is lying under a large leaf, staring up at the night sky, and the moons that occupy it. He doesn’t notice you until you’re sitting right next to him, hugging him extra hard for some reason.

“Whoa! Kanu-” Neteyam hugs you back. He was on the verge of falling asleep, but now he’s entirely awake. “What’s wrong? Why are you here?”

“Teyam- everything’s gone wrong.” You shut your eyes, and Neteyam tries not to feel too proud over the fact that you’ve given him a nickname, because you’re clearly upset. “I didn’t tell everybody -Tsireya, Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk- about you for a while, well, because- it just felt nice to have you for myself. I’m sorry.”

You sound incredibly guilty, but Neteyam shakes his head. “It’s not wrong. We are still people. We will never act with the best judgement, even if we know better.”

“I guess you’re right, but…” You murmur, and then move on to the next thing that’s bothering you. “You know how Lo’ak and Tsireya are all in love, right?”

“Right.” Neteyam nods and snickers a little. “Doesn’t really surprise me.”

You can’t be sure what Neteyam means by that, and you feel yourself grow a little annoyed. “Yeah, it’s not really surprising, is it? When Tsireya is so pretty, right?”

Neteyam blinks. He looks at you, and he can clearly see- you’re pissed off. He doesn’t know how he came off that way- Reya is like a sister to him- but it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t want to make you angry.

“Kanu.” He holds your hand, but you won’t look at him. “I don’t really care for Tsireya like that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” You whisper, and he listens very carefully. “But it’s just that… everyone seems to think she’s beautiful, that everything about her is good and right and perfect, to the point where it seems like she is always being noticed, always has the first priority in every conversation, and I am always left behind. I am always left to answer last, to be heard after everyone else has already moved on. I wish I wasn’t so plain.”

“Hey. Stop it.” Neteyam tries to interject, but you keep going.

“And Tsireya and Lo’ak really drive me crazy now, because they act like such a team! Already like little future versions of the Olo’eyktan and the Tsahik.” You sigh, and you feel tears begin to run down your cheeks. “I know it’s selfish, and mean to say so- but I feel so worthless. Unimportant in comparison to them. I’ll never be Seen like that.”

Neteyam shuts his eyes. He really wishes he could be in the real world, so he could punch that skxawng Lo’ak for acting all old and mature, when really, he doesn’t know any better. But he feels bad. Nothing of what you’ve said is under other people’s control.

“I know what you mean, Kanu. As a big brother- I’ve always had to be watchful of others. I couldn’t be an idiot like Lo’ak, because I had to make sure he doesn’t get himself killed.” Neteyam swallows, not sure if you’re following, but you nod. “It didn’t make me less useful, right? Just because I was ‘behind’, like you’re saying?”

You wipe back some of your tears, and agree. “You’re right.”

“But you’ll never be useless, okay? I’ve seen how you always comforted Kiri when she was upset. How you would watch over Tuk when everyone else was more concerned with themselves. You’re not weak or dumb because you’re quiet, Kanu. You’re smart, just like your name says.” Neteyam decides to take it a step further, and you’re surprised that he even remembers, holds that much thought about you. “And you’re not nearly as plain as you make yourself sound.”

You feel your face and ears grow warm, and you look towards the ground, but Neteyam’s hands gently grasp your face, forcing you to look back up at him. His golden eyes are more soft, more kind than you’ve ever experienced from anyone else, and he clearly means it. You’re not imagining it.

“You’re beautiful.” Neteyam smiles at how you look a little taken aback, like you suddenly want to run away from all this attention, because you’re so shy. “I See you.”

And Neteyam leans in to kiss you, whispering sevin as he does- meaning pretty in Na’vi- and for once, you don’t tell him to stop, that it’s a mistake on his part- you just let it happen. His lips envelop yours, and it’s a much warmer feeling than you were anticipating, that Neteyam could be so close to you and you would feel like his.

He does not let go, letting his hands hold on to you for just a moment longer when he feels an urge to connect his tsaheylu to yours, and Neteyam moves back.

“Teyam?” You whisper, and he rests his forehead against yours.

“Listen. I think you’re amazing.” Neteyam sounds guilty. “And I wish you could stay here forever, with me, but that would be selfish.”

“Neteyam, c’mon.” You look at him knowingly, and he does smile. “I did the same thing. I tried to keep you as my own secret.”

“I think that’s adorable.” Neteyam snorts. “But I’m being serious. I think you should be with someone of the real world, someone who can actually exist alongside you. Not me.”

“This coming from a dreamwalker’s son?” You retort. “To Jake Sully, this was not the real world. And he still bonded with your mother.”

Neteyam can’t disagree with you on that, because you’re right. But it’s still not fair to you. He’s going to have to be the bad guy.

“You should go back.” Neteyam says, and even though as he’s saying this he should push you away, he hugs you instead. A parting hug. “A bond between us? A living girl and a dead boy? We know it’s wrong. It would never be as fulfilling as my mother and father. You would only be able to see me a few times a week.”

“But I want it to be you, Neteyam.” You shut your eyes, and hug him back. “I wish it was you.”

“I know.” Neteyam lets go, and you can see- there are tears building up in his eyes. “But this is not right. Please, Kanu, be smart. I know you know better.”

You stiffen, hearing the words that everyone seems to attribute to you. “Stop being so responsible, Neteyam.”

“Actually, I’m not. I’m not that responsible.” Neteyam grows bitter, and draws himself away from you. “I’m avoiding Lo’ak. Eywa calls me to see him, and I’m just so- angry - that I don’t go.”

You’re silent for a moment. “I didn’t know that was possible.”

“Well it is.” Neteyam shakes his head. “You’re too good for someone as angry as me, Kanu. You don’t deserve a dead boy who can’t even bother to see his brother. Who rejects Eywa. I’m not responsible.”

“Well, I’m not smart. I can’t be without you, even if I know it’s wrong.” You respond, and Neteyam watches as you get up, and walk away, your silhouette slowly vanishing as you leave the Spirit Tree.

Neteyam hopes you don’t mean you’re going to live a life of loneliness. He prays you can get over this. It’s not like him to be such a mistake- but something about you keeps him constantly yearning for this, to be around you in any capacity, if you would let him. That’s why he needs you to stay away.

He wonders if Eywa really does see this as wrong.

“Kanu! Wake up, wake up!” Tuk is shaking your shoulders, as you jostle yourself awake.

“Tuk.” You sit up, feeling the early sunlight peek inside your family’s marui. You’re still a little upset after your last conversation with Neteyam, and you fell asleep after crying for a bit. Your eyes are still puffy. Your mother is mending a loincloth- she waves at Tuk, who waves back- and you’re immediately yanked by Tuk towards the outside.

She jumps up and down on the bridging, giggling, and she yells: “Catch me, Kanu, catch me!”

Tuk, the silly girl that she is, begins to run, and even if you are a little depressed, Tuk doesn’t need that, so you run after her, your much longer legs allowing you to catch up and sweep her up into your arms. She squeals as you pretend to be a monster, growling and swinging her around, before suddenly allowing her to fly up in the air, throwing and tossing her.

She laughs loudly, and you remember watching Neteyam do this. No matter how tired he was, every time Tuk asked to be thrown in the air, he would do it. Always with a smile on his face, too.

“Kanu?”

You blink, watching Tuk look up at you from your arms. She’s not your sister, not your family. But you still love her. And you understand some of the reason why things can feel so empty now.

Without Neteyam, there’s a big gap, a lack of an older brother who knows exactly what makes his sister laugh and cry.

It’s not fair. It’s not fair that you could love someone like that so much, when he meant a lot to everyone. To bond with him would be extraordinarily selfish. You think you get it now, what Neteyam means by not limiting yourself to him, by allowing yourself to be a lot for everyone too.

“Ah, Tuktirey!” You hug her extra tight, and spin around and she wraps her arms around your neck, grinning.

You hear someone swim forwards from the shore. It’s Kiri and Tsireya, and they’re both holding a large fish between the two of them. Kiri places it with some heft into a net, and she ties it up.

But when they see you, they leave the fish and come towards you.

“Kanu.” Kiri touches your forearm. “Can we talk? Please?”

“Yes, of course.” You half-expect her to tell Tuk to leave, since this is more of a big person conversation, but the three of them sit with you on the shore.

“Kanu… I’m sorry. I should’ve been there for you.” Tsireya speaks up first, and you can tell from the way your friend is just barely uttering the words, she must feel horribly guilty. “I don’t know how you felt, seeing Neteyam again, but it must have been a big thing for you to do on your own. You are strong.”

“Am I, though?” You play with your fingers. “I love him. And I know that it’s wrong-”

“But you can’t help how you feel, can you?” Tsireya suddenly grins. “I knew it. I knew that he Saw you the first time we all met. He couldn’t take his eyes off you, he barely learned how to dive into the water.”

You blush, and then shove Tsireya as she giggles. “Stop that! It doesn’t make it less weird. Or more normal. Neteyam said that it would be wrong… the two of us, a living girl and a dead boy, choosing to be together.”

“So what?” Kiri holds her chest up with pride. “I’m a freak, too. I hear Eywa. It doesn’t make you any less of a person to be different.”

You nod, but you just think that Neteyam wouldn’t want this. He was pretty final on making you stay away.

“What does Tuk think?” Kiri says kindly, with a sisterly nature, because Tuk has been vying to speak for the last two minutes, constantly badgering her.

“I think it’s cool!” Tuk laughs, with a big smile, and she rolls around in the sand.

You’re grateful for the approval, even if it seems wrong, and you tell them as much.

“If it was really wrong, Eywa would not keep bringing you to him.” Tsireya decides. “Our Mother sees through it all.”

It’s easy to die, you find out.

All it takes is a lack of foresight in your movements. An Akula -a large Pandoran shark- attacks you as you and Kiri are swimming towards the fractal reefs deep in the water. She wanted to show you some of the floating jellyfish that made weird echoing sounds, like music, when she touched them. Even though you had lived in this village your whole life, you’d never seen anything like that.

The Akula approaches Kiri from behind, and you try to sign to her- move out of the way!- but it dives towards her too quickly. And before you know it, you dive forward and push Kiri out of the way.

“Kanu!” Kiri yells, air bubbles bubbling from her throat as she does, and it’s the last thing you hear before the Akula clenches it’s jaws around your body, it’s sharpest tooth impaling you through your chest. Everything in your vision blacks out.

Kiri panics and swims after the Akula, feeling her rage burn through her heart and into her veins, and she pushes that rage outwards, the dots and moles aligning her face lighting up in her anger. The coral and leaves that can be moved by Kiri, and her strange power, stretch towards the Akula, and it clings to it, while it shrieks in anger and drops your body.

Kiri gasps, seeing the blood ebb from your body, a red mist that expands through the water. The wound is too deep, from what she can see, and your dead weight is dragging you down into the depths of the water.

Kiri dives after you, grabbing your body, thinking the entire time, no, no, no , but it’s too late.

She comes up onto the shore, and Lo’ak is the first one to see her.

“Kiri?” He notices your body, and immediately goes into survival mode, pulling you with all his might. “We need to- we need to-”

“Put pressure on her wound.” Kiri looks down at you, and it’s so similar to how Neteyam died, she cannot help but feel a lump in her throat. Your blood has leaked and congealed into the sand. The wound is too deep, to the point where Kiri can see into your ribs. Your bright blue eyes are glazed over.

You are dead.

“No! Please, somebody! Help!” Kiri starts crying loudly, and she lies over your body, her tears flowing onto your neck. “Kanu…”

Lo’ak begins to cry, as well. He didn’t get to know you as well as he would’ve wanted to- but he promised himself he would apologize to you. You never meant any harm towards him.

Everyone is devastated.

Tsireya could not think clearly when she saw your body. She immediately felt her throat choke up, and she lay over you, shutting your eyes so you would at least look at peace.

Kiri is especially wrought with grief and agony, telling anyone that would listen that you saved her life, and it should’ve been her. Jake holds her back- he knows she’s a kid with a lot of fight in her- and Neytiri tells her to stay calm. That you wouldn’t have wanted her to do this to herself.

Tuk, especially, does not understand. It’s difficult to lose so many people and have to keep losing them in this way, at such a young age. She cries- she wants to see you again, but you’re gone. Lo’ak is the only one who can take care of her at this moment.

Your funeral ceremony is not just led by your mother and father. They recognize how deeply you have touched your friends’ hearts, and they allow them to give their blessings to you before you join the Spirit Tree.

Ronal and Tsireya cover up your wound with small sea flowers, allowing you to look more at peace, for your parents’ sanity.

Tsireya places a headdress made from seashells and vines on your head, and she kisses your forehead. She whispers, “I’ll see you soon.”

Kiri hugs you. She hopes you take care of Neteyam, and he takes care of you. That’s where you’re headed, she knows it.

Your body is tipped off the raft, into the underwater depths, towards the glowing golden tendrils of the Spirit Tree, where you are absorbed.

Tuk waves goodbye at you, crying from Lo’ak’s arms. He, too, salutes you.

You wake up in your family’s marui. Things seem different- the village feels more empty, hazy, like something just on the edge of your vision. It quickly clears up as you shake your head a bit.

You’re not sure what’s happened. Where is your mother? Your father?

Even as you leave the marui, onto the shores of the Metkayina village, less questions are answered. You don’t recognize any of the other villagers, you don’t see the Sully family, although a kind woman approaches you, looking understanding of your obvious confusion.

You begin to run- you don’t know why- but something about how off everything is makes you run. You want to leave.

You see someone on the shore, in front of the sunset. A tall boy, with darker blue skin, long braided hair, a skinny tail- it must be Neteyam. You nearly knock him over when you walk into him.

“Kanu?” Neteyam holds your arms, and he’s immediately horrified. Every other time he’s seen you, you were there, but you were obviously a vision of some sort- not quite there, just a little off. This time, though, it’s different. You’re clearly there, clearly real in a way he never quite felt before. He can’t articulate this difference- he just sees that you’re really you.

He knows you must have joined him in Eywa, and you’re bound to feel the grief and rage he did when he realized. When you told him.

You’re so confused, wondering why you can see Neteyam again, because the last thing you did- you didn’t go to the Spirit Tree, you were swimming with Kiri- it suddenly dawns on you what must have happened. The last thing you can really, truly recall.

You burst into tears, crying desperately, and fall to your knees on to the shore, water splashing around you. You know now. You understand that you’re dead.

He kneels with you, and pulls you into a hug, your head laying against his chest as you sob, thinking of how you would always be on the other side now.

“It’s okay, Kanu.” He tries, and you continue to cry. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just painful right now.”

“I’m really here with you?” You finally choke out, trying to see something positive in the bigger picture.

“I’m here. I’m really here.” Neteyam says, stroking your head, and you feel your tears subside a bit. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone.”

Being with Eywa is not as strange as you would think. For one thing, the afterlife is relatively peaceful. There’s no risk of dying a second time- so you think, and Neteyam laughs at you when you ask the question- and you cannot leave his side now that you know you’re in the same place.

You visit your grandmother together. She’s at first a little unamused about the idea of an afterlife-bonding, calling it “strange,” especially seeing how Neteyam is part of the Omatikaya, and you are apart of the Metkayina, but she’s not actually against it and she likes how Neteyam was immediately respectful towards her, bowing down deeply despite being the son of a Toruk Makto.

It also doesn’t matter so much here. You can sort of do whatever you want, and that kind of unbridled freedom allows you to do so much more. To jump into the water without worrying about sharp rocks, to dive off of an Ikran without worrying about potentially falling to your death. Eywa won’t let you, because you’re at peace now.

“Isn’t it funny that I would have never done all this back in real life?” You ask, sitting in Hometree with him, and Neteyam snorts.

He’s braiding your hair in a traditional Omatikayan style, at your request. “Yeah, because you’d be at risk of dying. It’s because you’re smart.”

Neteyam finishes by placing a sea flower in the back of your braids, to show where you come from, and then pulls you to your feet.

Neteyam is very proud of you. Even though he wishes that you didn’t have to die- you did what you wanted to do with your life. You saved Kiri, and to him that was special.

“Does it look nice?” You motion to your head, and turn around a few times.

“It always looks nice. And by extension, so do you.” Neteyam smiles at you, and you squeeze his hand.

Neteyam brings you deep into the trees of the forests, where he grew up alongside his siblings, and together you sit down.

“Oel ngati kameie.” Neteyam says, pointing his hand towards you, and you do the same. You know what he means now- he’s told you openly how often he thought of you before he had even died, and how much he does recognize you in all your worth.

Then, almost as if it’s purely instinct, he reaches towards his tsaheylu, and connects it to yours.

The only thing you feel is love.

203 notes · View notes

sailoryooons · 2 years

Text

Sore Loser | One Shot | jjk (m)

→ Summary: It’s another day of shooting Run BTS at Bangtan Streaming for Jungkook. At least, he thinks it is until his girlfriend walks into the room and the director announces that Jungkook and his teammates will be battling two professional Valorant players for the episode. The stakes are high - but the prize if he manages to beat you? Total submission in the bedroom.

→ Pairing: streamer!Jungkook x valorantpro!reader

→ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

→ Type: One shot

→ Word Count: 9,588

→ Genre: established relationship, pwp

→ Warnings: Explicit language, a lot of FPS terms so mentions of shooting down enemies, guns, etc. sexually explicit content including sub jk and soft dom reader, orgasm denial, teasing, dirty talk, nipple play (f. and m. receiving) oral sex (f. and m. receiving), unprotect vaginal sex (f. on top), light begging, cum eating, split play, breath control (very light throat squeezing, not really choking), orgasm control, a shit ton of praising, light scratching, I think thats all of it.

→ Main Masterlist: here

→ faq

A/N: GAMER JUNGKOOK SUPREMACY. This was honestly an excuse to write Jungkook losing at Valorant because I would pay $$$$ to play BTS in Valo. Sorry for all the gamer talk - I couldn't help but include it even though I really tried to cut down on describing game play, but I also wanted to show reader beating Jungkookie you feel me? This was entirely inspired by Disguised Toast's noobs vs. pros Valorant tourney he hosted. It was absolutely nuts to see that the pros were good enough to beat 5 players tbh. If any of you play valo - LETS PLAY TOGETHER. I never play ranked cause it's too much pressure but I can be coaxed into it if necessary - I have not ranked since like Act 3 and I ended bronze because I am a chaos demon when playing. I hope you enjoy this absolute filth ft. subby Jungkook :)

Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgement or representation of real life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. BTS is not BTS culturally, intellectually, physically or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

The smell of coffee, heavenly and warm drags you toward the kitchen. Your socks slide against the vinyl floor of the apartment. You’re careful to step over the pile of cords your boyfriend has left tangled near the bedroom door – you’ve tripped and cursed at him once already. Absently, you think it looks suspiciously like Tangela.

“Yeah, it sort of does.” You don’t realize you’ve spoken out loud until you see Jungkook leaning on the counter, drinking coffee from one of your coffee cups. You rub the sleep from your eyes - it’s your very coveted Fruits Basket mug and you eye him suspiciously as you join him in the kitchen. “I swear I’ll untangle them tonight after work.”

You grunt, noncommittal. Your boyfriend gives you a soft smile – bunny teeth showing and eyes crinkling with delight at the corners. Despite being tired, you smile back, warmth spreading through you as he slides a premade mug of coffee to you just how you like it – two sugars and a splash of milk.

“Are you going to tell me about your super-secret work project?” Jungkook asks.

You join him leaning on the counter. He makes room to wrap an arm around you and you bury your face in the soft, grey cotton tee and inhale. He smells like florals and something headier – a smell that is just Jungkook. He is soft and warm and you want to fall asleep in his arms, coffee temporarily forgotten as you nuzzle him.

Laughter rumbles through his chest, low and soft like a distant summer storm. You look up at him, cheek pressed against his shoulder.

Even in the morning, Jungkook is so beautiful that you cannot help but fall in love with him all over again. It isn’t just his looks you love – it is the way he gets nervous around you even though you have dated for four years, it’s the competitive knit of his brow when he plays video games, the affectionate way he interacts with his viewers when he streams.

If someone had told you that the terribly shy guy who couldn’t make eye contact with you in all of your introduction classes as a college freshman would become a confident streamer and your boyfriend – you’d have told them they clearly never saw you try to ask Jungkook for notes on a missed lecture.

“Super-secret means you don’t get to know,” you remind him. You stand on your tiptoes, pressing a kiss to the corner of his pout. He gives you round eyes and a quivering lip, making you growl at him. “Enough! No Bambi-eyes today, Kook.”

“Come on, Ace.”

“Ah!” you hush him, ignoring the use of your nickname – one that started out as a joke among your gaming friends for your aces in Valorant and eventually became your username. “No whining. I promise you’ll find out what I’m working on.”

He huffs. Jungkook is not petulant, but the two of you are always open and honest. There is very little you don’t know about the other, so when you started working on something at work and began dropping hints, Jungkook was less than enthused that you weren’t allowed to tell him.

Well – you could. But you wanted it to be a surprise.

“Can you at least give me a hint?” he asks as you sip your coffee. You hum thoughtfully. “A collab?”

“Fine – yes it’s a collab.”

Jungkook jumps up and down, nearly knocking the mug from your hand and nearly dropping your favorite mug from his. You hiss at him and snatch his mug. “Careful! You’re going to break Tohru.”

“Are you guys finally collaborating with Adidas?”

“I guess you’ll find out,” you tease, pulling away from him.

Jungkook pouts again but it’s not as deep this time. You laugh and not for the first time, you’re grateful that you have Jungkook.

Making friends had been increasingly difficult for you in college. As someone who was prone to being anti-social yourself, your head strong personality and taking charge of group projects was admired, but not ideal for making friends.

It didn’t help that like Jungkook, you spent an obscene number of hours at a pitiful gaming set up, eyes burning as you clawed your way through Valorant acts. You had been playing since the beta stage, making a name for yourself in the streaming and competitive scene. Your degree was in marketing – a tactical choice by you to learn how to market yourself in hopes of becoming a professional e-sports gamer and eventually opening your own company dedicated to marketing streamers and e-sports.

Now you were making a name for yourself with the first all-women professional Valorant team and you were super fucking proud of it. But no one was prouder than Jungkook. You remembered all the times he inserted himself in conversations to hype you: my girlfriend is actually a professional Valorant player – yeah first team full of women. Oh you play games? My girlfriend is a professional e-sports player. Yeah, I stream but my girlfriend is the real professional.

You could not ask for a better support system – and better friends. Jungkook is signed with a company for streaming as well – Bangtan Streaming – and he and his friends are incredible.

It’s weird to think that you were both so prominent in the gaming scene. While it did have the negatives – fans telling Jungkook that you were not good enough for him or worse, telling him that he was far better than gaming at you – there are so many amazing opportunities that both of your platforms have given you.

Grateful and lucky does not cover half of how you feel about your life.

The apartment you share downtown with Jungkook is larger than necessary – three bedrooms and two and a half bathrooms with floor to ceiling windows in the living room overlooking the city. You had learned the hard way in your previous apartment that sharing a gaming room was impossible – Jungkook is actively streaming and conversing with his viewers or doing sponsorships while you’re prone rage screaming in the background while practicing.

The separate room policy is definitely your fault.

Steam covers the bathroom mirror as you wrap yourself in a towel, combing through your hair as quickly as possible – you’re not behind yet, but you do have a habit of being late.

Jungkook comes shuffling in as you rinse your mouth from tooth paste, wiping it on a small towel by the sink. The towels that you have picked out, because you had introduced Jungkook to the concept of hand towels, face towels, decorative towels and body towels.

Why can’t I just use one? He had asked, earning a disgusted face from you.

Jungkook has come a long way from a single mattress on the floor with blue sheets and towels for pillows- though you have a sneaking suspicion he would still be living that way had you not taught him that there is more to life than bare basics.

Grabbing a blow dryer, you’re distracted when Jungkook settles behind you, wrapping hands around your waist. You glare at him in the mirror, knowing exactly where he is trying to go. He gives you doe-eyes, his attempt at innocence as he pulls your ass against his crotch.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you warn, plugging in the dryer. “No, I am going to be late.”

He leans closer to you, brushing wet strands of hair from your neck as he plants a soft kiss on the fresh skin. You hum lightly – it does feel good, the way his soft lips press against your skin. Goosebumps appear on your skin as he kisses closer to your neck, fingers tugging the towel slightly.

You turn the blow dryer on, pointing it right at his face and starling him. You burst with laughter as he steps back from you, blinking away from the sudden heat and noise of the machine.

“That’s your final warning,” you say pointedly to his scrunched-up reflection.

“Fine,” he grumbles. “Just wanted to eat you out, no big deal.” Liquid heat pools in your stomach at his words, but you stay strong, running the dryer over your damp hair. “You’re so mean.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.”

He hesitates. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

While Jungkook’s gentle nature does not always follow him into the bedroom, there are rare moments when he lets himself melt into you completely, lets you take control and guide him to shaking orgasms where he is breathy and full of tears.

Those moments are some of your favorite, where there is no dominance or fight in him, where he gives you absolute control and you can show him how good you can make him feel.

Suddenly you hate that you have been anticipating this surprise project for weeks, wanting nothing more than to turn the dryer off and mark him with your nails, teeth, fingers.

Focusing on getting dressed, you tell yourself that today is going to be fun. And it is – because Jungkook has no idea that Arsenic is collaborating with Bangtan Streaming today.

One of Jungkook’s favorite places to be is the BTS offices downtown. The building is cutting edge and each space inside is filled with thoughtful interior design – large spaces where people can relax and step away from the screens, a cafeteria with a variety of dietary options, a dark section of offices for group and individual gaming, and a single floor dedicated to filming spaces.

Jungkook’s favorite room at work is the dark music room that Yoongi had cut out for them. It has a focus on relaxation for those who were overstimulated for working long hours or doing charity streams on office campus.

Soft chairs, dim blue lighting and the option to put on headphones pre-set with lo-fi beats or listen to your own greet Jungkook early that morning as he waits for the final touches to be put on whatever shoot they were doing upstairs.

Run BTS episodes were almost always a surprise. He and the six other streamers that they have as their ‘streamline’ personalities cover a variety of content: Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung are focused on first person shooters and competitive games, Jimin and Hoseok both have monopoly on comfy games and laidback RPGs, while Namjoon and Yoongi are both into long campaigns.

That being said, they are all skilled at a wide variety. Jungkook came on the scene in college with his skill in Overwatch. Though he had started as a camera-off kind of streamer who got by on sheer skill, you had talked him into turning the camera on, assisting with the lighting and the background and everything.

Jungkook is so thankful for you that it is stupid. He is also insanely proud of you.

Even as he lays in the recliner, sifting through social media while listening to Yoongi’s curated playlist, he smiles when he comes across a photo of you on your Twitter – it’s a mirror selfie dropping hints at your super-secret project that he has tried to get out of you for week.

He had even spent a night going down on you multiple times in hopes of making you tired enough to let it slip – and because there are few things he liked more than eating you out – but you are stubborn and a steel box when it came to your work.

It’s fucking hot, though.

Lights are set up around the filming space as Jungkook goes upstairs. They’re shooting in one of the gaming rooms used for competitions and larger setups, rows of computers on elevated platforms in sponsored chairs and sleek setups for each station.

Over a dozen staff members move about the space, setting up. Cameras on tracks, cameras on shoulders, writers with scripts secured to clipboards, playback screens and directors, assistants running around with cups of coffee and gaffers tape to seal wires down to the floor.

Jungkook’s interest is piqued when he sees that the front of the elongated desk on the right side of the massive setup as ‘Bangtan Streaming’ on it while the other side is hidden by a sheet. He frowns as he approaches Taehyung, who is spinning in a gaming chair on the first row.

“Any idea what we’re doing today?” Jungkook asks, jerking a thumb at the empty set of gaming setups. Taehyung shakes his head, black curls bounding. Jungkook sticks a foot out, stopping the older from spinning until he vomits. “Think they’ll make us play some insanely modded game again?”

“Modded Skyrim,” Taehyung shivers. “The only place you can fight dragons as a chair.”

Jungkook hums his ascent.

The director calls for their attention and gathers five of them together. Namjoon is sitting on a beanbag watching the shoot take place – a fill for whatever their doing – while he shares a bag of popcorn with Hoseok, also a fill for today.

Without Namjoon as the active participant, Seokjin is assigned leadership duties. They each went down the line and are given their intros, letting them rehearse a few times before the director explains to them what they needed from them.

Run BTS is a large production, but it is also very loosely shot, with genuine real time reactions, staff helping giving clear directions, and stream of thought content. Jungkook loves shooting with his best friends – his brothers really – and there is always a prize at the end of each competition.

Jungkook loves winning.

Because that’s what it is – monthly episodes of them competing out of their element or within other fields of gaming and streaming that most of them are not used to.

They go through their intros, Jungkook doing his part and waiting as the director builds up what they are going to do for the day. He tries not to yawn, wishing he had made himself another cup of coffee instead of chasing you into the bathroom and hoping to get lucky.

You almost always indulge in him, but you were both busy this morning so he knows it was for the better.

“Today your teams have been chosen based on your first-person shooter abilities. The top three FPS players,” the director says. “Consists of Jungkook, Jin and Taehyung. However, your team also has two of the worst first-person shooters: Jimin and Yoongi.”

“Yah!” Yoongi yells, everyone immediately laughing. Seokjin slaps his hand on his leg as both Yoongi and Jimin start yelling, their complaints parroting back and forth. “I’m not even that bad!”

“You’re really good at other things,” Taehyung assures Yoongi, hand on his shoulder.

Yoongi shrugs Taehyungs hand off but seems appeased for the moment, making Jungkook laugh. His hands are linked behind his back as the director continues, “Today you’ll be competing in a small series against two e-sports professionals from Arsenic.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to Jungkook. He blinks in shock, looking at the door that the director gestures to. You walk in through the door waving, eyes finding Jungkook and glinting dangerously, warm smile turning into a smirk. You’re in jeans and a black and green zip up with Arsenic’s poison cloud logo on the front.

Jungkook is so stunned to see you that he doesn’t hear what the director is saying – something about a 5 vs. 2 Valorant tournament. And while it might sound absolutely insane to the views the collective seven boys have who religiously watch Run BTS, he knows that it isn’t.

You and your pink-haired teammate – Arya, he realizes when he finally snaps out of his daze -are good enough to take him and four teammates down in Valorant.

Jungkook takes a deep breath. It is his second to best game behind Overwatch, and he has played with you so much and watched so many of your matches that he knows every game mechanic and tactic you use.

Sensing that his eyes have drifted back to you, you give Jungkook a wolfish grin. Despite being at work, he feels arousal shoot straight to his dick. You’re so fucking sexy when you’re competitive and he loves when you surprise him.

It all makes sense now. Your refusal to tell him about your upcoming collaboration, the sly way you grinned at him this morning, your mounting nervousness. You always told Jungkook what was going on at work, even if it was top secret.

He narrows his eyes at you, a smile breaking out on his face as Arya introduces herself.

“I’m Arya better known as Arsenic Arya,” she grins, waving a hand. “I’m the eldest member of Arsenic, the first member of the team, and so far this act I am Immortal Three. I main Raze and Jett and I prefer fast, mobile play.”

There is a light, golf-style clap at your introduction. Jungkook’s eyes slide to you. You’re not looking at him, but he can see the twitch of that sensuous mouth as yours as you introduce yourself.

“I’m Y/N also known as Arsenic Ace –”

“Cause she be acing,” Taehyung and Jimin call out in singsong voices, making the room laugh.

Your eyes are shinning and Jungkook is falling falling falling for you, even though all you’re doing is standing in a room and working. “Yeah, that does happen. I was the third member of the team, and this act I already hit Radiant. I main Viper and Reyna and I prefer unpredictable, aggressive play.”

The rules are simple: there will be three rounds of games, each with a different set of rules, each handicapping either the stream team or the pro team.

Round One: Pros get to choose a map of their preference and they aren’t allowed to buy weapons on each first round of the half. The winning team will receive five points.

Round Two: Pros are only allowed to defend one plant site and are not allowed to rotate until their partner dies. The stream team gets to choose a map but may not choose Haven. The winning team will receive five points.

Round Three: Pros are not allowed to play agents that they are familiar with, but they may pick the map. The winning team will receive five points.

Bonus Round: One player from each team will go in a head-to-head Spike Rush match worth ten points.

“At the half when it’s time to switch sides, the stream team may select one of the standby players to take someone’s place. The points may be redeemed at the end of the tournament to ‘purchase’ items for dinner.”

Two production assistants role out food carts. Jungkook’s team immediately groans. The premium items are five points each, with side dishes sitting between two and three points and seasonings and ingredients being one point each.

Jungkook knows that his team isn’t bad – Taehyung is excellent at first person shooters. But as good as Seokjin’s aim is, he hates games that require excess utility which Valorant does, and Yoongi is a little bit helpless when it comes to player versus player games.

Rolling back on his feet Jungkook listens as Seokjin reads from a card about what kind of game Valorant is and what viewers can expect. He tries to keep his eyes from drifting to you – he's working, for fuck sake – but he knows that you’re paying attention to the directors with your hands laced behind your back.

A total professional. You've always been harder to influence than Jungkook when it comes to distractions – especially devious ones.

Suddenly, Jungkook can’t focus on anything but wanting to rile you. He knows he needs to focus up for his team – he's going to be their linchpin if they want to win. He is the most familiar with the game play beside Taehyung, and he knows you better than anyone else in the room.

Someone calls his name and he blinks in surprise, eyes go wide as he looks at the camera. Jimin is smirking next to him, his eyes half-moons as he tries to contain his laughter and Jungkook knows that he was caught starting at you.

Browser loading, is what you like to call it when he gets that faraway look. He loves the way you think it’s cute – instantly cooing at him and kissing him as he forgets what it was, he was drifting off about anyway.

“You’ll be the team’s best weapon today, right?” The director asks. “Valorant is your second most streamed game behind Overwatch and you’ve participated in charity streams in conjunction with Arsenic before.”

“Uh,” he starts out nodding, “Yeah - yes. I’ve played it a lot since beta. I recently hit Diamond Two this act.”

“And you have insider information, since Arsenic Ace is your girlfriend?”

Jungkook flushes red and looks at his shoes. He notices that the white Nikes no longer have scuff marks, and it occurs to him that you must have heard him complaining about them and clean them. His heart swells and he warm further, nodding his head.

“Yes, I’m very familiar with her style. She won’t take it easy on us, though.”

They pause filming to set up near the computers.

Jungkook rushes over to you. You turn to him with a grin. “Surprise,” you whisper. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“No - this is so cool. How did this come about?”

“Jin actually proposed it a bit ago to Arya when they were at some sort of co-op event for Twitch. When she brought it up, she asked if I would want to do the program and I obviously said yes. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Oh I'm surprised.” He looks you up and down. You’re dressed simply, but he can smell you this close – you smell like the apartment you share and a light, floral fragrance. The combination of home and florals makes him dizzy. “Want to make a wager?”

You’re already ahead of him. “Loser has to submit,” you whisper to him. “You want to risk that? Want to risk being fucked dumb, baby?”

Your words shoot straight to his cock and he swears he’s about to pop hard on right there. He licks his lips, finding that he needs water – now.

“Come on, Jeon,” you croon, biting your bottom lip and pulling at the hem of his shirt. “Make the bet. I win and I get to do whatever I want to you tonight. You win and I’m yours.”

“You’re already mine.”

You narrow your eyes. “Bet or no?”

Jungkook knows it’s a win-win scenario. Either he’s going to have you lying on your back, begging for his cock to split you open or you’ll sink that pretty pussy down on him and make him sit there while you touch him gently all over. Or you’ll make him sit on his hands while you lick the tip of his cock gently, kittenish and teasing until he’s begging you fuck him, begging you to sit on his face, to anything.

“You’re on,” he growls. He has to adjust he’s jeans when you back away. Your eyes follow the movement, raising your brow as you do.

“Just don’t forget you’re not allowed to be a sore loser.”

“No,” you hear Jungkook yelling even through your headphones. “Don’t enter Viper’s ult. You light up red when you enter, and she’ll see you before you see her. Jin – stop shooting at spike, she doesn’t sit on spike in her ult, she shift walks to keep movement unpredictable and lure you in.”

Jungkook is trying and failing to get his team to listen to him. Seokjin plays too eager, shooting at the planted spike in your smoke and immediately giving you away. You throw your snake bite venom onto the spike, making it so that anyone who tries to diffuse will take damage fast.

Rotating out of Viper’s ultimate, you spot Seokjin exactly where he was shooting at you from ropes and tap him once. Seokjin let’s out a roar of frustration as you grin and enter your ult, the spike beeping a faster rhythm.

Arya spectates next to you, having been taken out by Jungkook before plant. She managed to take Jimin with her, and now it’s just you and Yoongi, who plays very tentatively with Sage.

You tune out Jungkook’s coaching of his older teammate while you navigate the green smoke. It’s match point of the first round – which you have handedly raced to a 12 – 4 score.

Sage walls under you suddenly, sending Viper up and out of ult. You’re fast, jumping down and locating the red outline on spike, one tapping Yoongi’s Sage and dropping her.

Arya screams as you win the game, pulling your headphones all the way off and rolling your sweat a little backward to grin at Jungkook. He is leaned back in his chair, patting Yoongi on the back who is now grumbling about why was I chosen for a player verse player game?

The second round goes better for the stream team as you’ve started calling them for the tournament. With the rules of the second round tying you to a sight until your teammate dies, you and Arya decide to pick Sentinels, agents whose purpose are to lockdown and defend site.

You’re not terrible with Chamber by any means, his utility almost giving you a dualist advantage, but the map is big and rotating while the stream team plants the spike after killing Arya is hard.

Thankfully, they don’t call you Ace for no reason.

Though Arya gets two herself as Jett, you grin like a maniac as you nail your fourth ace, killing all four of the stream team in rapid succession with Chamber’s ultimate – a sniper that not only works better than the op, but is a little easier to aim.

The chat in the bottom left screen starts lighting up, making you giggle

Jungkook.97: you are sweaty

Jungkook.97: touch grass

Jungkook.97: you can sleep on the couch

ArsenicAce: Can’t hear u over the sound of my ace and clutch <3

Jungkook makes it his only mission to take you out. His gameplay changes and you realize that Jungkook and Taehyung are more focused on eliminating you from site early to rush the plant before locking it down and fending off Arya.

The plan works in that it doesn’t: they do manage to eliminate you early in rounds when they rush your site, but Arya is good. She rotates fast, using Jett’s mobility to give her room to re-take site. When she gets an operator, they drop like flies, your teammate hitting every snipe.

You take round two but barely – finishing the round 13-10.

Jungkook continues spamming the chat – teasing you through text even though he’s not that far away. You smirk, fingers rapid fire on the keys as the stream team decides to swap out Yoongi (who is so relieved he cheers) for Namjoon at the beginning of round three.

Namjoon gives them the luck that he needs. Because you and Arya aren’t allowed to select agents that you’re familiar with, you make blunders early on when trying to use the utility of your characters. You’ve play Phoenix once in your life, managing to blind yourself around every corner and blind Arya multiple times.

After getting yourself smoked enough times, you stop using your utility altogether.

Arya doesn’t fare any better. She's taking the lead on the strategy, trying to use Sova to gather utility but she shoots her recon darts too high, too short and has killed you once or twice with her shock darts.

You are a laughing mess, wiping tears from your eyes as Namjoon defuses the spike after Arya shot her shock dart up into the sky screaming, “I have lineups!”

Her lineup fried you as you rotated onto site, her laughter so sudden and hysterical that it left her open to be taken out by Taehyung.

You lose the third round – graciously, of course – 6-13.

The bonus round is the only way that they can win, but everyone is laughing. Arya pats you on the head, nominating you for the 1 v. 1 before you can discuss it. Jungkook is not only the obvious choice when you’re selected to represent Arsenic, but he wants this.

He is hungry to beat you. The promise of getting to do whatever he wants to you for too good of a prize to let it go.

You go for the surprise agent selection. Jungkook expects you to puck Viper or Reyna – perhaps even Omen.

You go for Yoru. His favorite agent to play. You’re unsurprised when he tries to throw you off as well – Jungkook selects Chamber and you know he’s hoping the extra weapons utility will give him an edge.

Spike Rush is different. You load with full utility – no ultimate – and the guns are random. And it’s Jungkook’s demise immediately when you spawn first round with a sheriff. Blinding him is easy and it takes a one tap to win.

“YAH SHE SHOULDN’T BE ALLOWED SHERIFF’S!” Jungkook hollers, making you laugh. You can hear the frustration as the second round starts. “WHO USES THE SHORTY? NO ONE!”

It takes Jungkook all of 40 seconds to kill you with said bucky and correct his stance to, “SHORT IS AWESOME. EAT SHELLS.”

ArsenicAce: Lucky, Jeon.

Jungkook.97: EAT SHELLS

Jungkook is competitive. You feel a surge of frustration – not because you’re tied and not because he’s being mean – but because you are just as competitive and you want to win. You focus, going quiet as the round stars with an operator.

You let Jungkook onto sight before using Yoru’s dimensional drift, running past him and appearing down the same hall he came down. You pick him off so easily you hear the screech.

You’re one win away from the prize. Your heart rate speeds up as the round starts, but there was no reason to worry. You exchange fire with him but you land a headshot, making Jungkook scream in frustration.

Quick as possible, you rapid fire a message into the chat.

ArsenicAce: dominated.

You grin. It’s a promise and you bothknow it.

You’re swinging your legs back and forth, sipping a glass while sitting on the island counter when Jungkook walks in. He stops and looks at you, dropping his bag by the door and staring at you, a soft pout on his lips.

The wine is a sweet red, fruity on your tongue. Once the shoot was over, you kissed him goodbye and promised to meet him at home. He had grumbled a response, looking at his shoes and shifting from foot to foot.

Now he’s hesitating by the door. His eyes are wide and his lips downturned, Jungkook not leaving the safe haven of the doorway. You crook a finger at him, beckoning him. He shakes his head, pout deepening.

You click your teeth at him. “Kookie.”

“It wasn’t fair,” he says softly, looking at his shoes and kicking the wooden floor lightly. He looks so young when he does this – eyes round, lips full, the bottom lip stuck out more just a little bit more than the top lip, shoulders tucked and voice soft. “You’re a pro.”

“Life isn’t fair.”

“Yeah but I didn’t stand a chance.”

“You stood plenty of a chance. It was 5 vs. 2.”

“Still,” he huffs. “You guys are like a million ranks above my team.”

Setting your glass of wine down, the clink of the glass on the marvel is loud in the empty space between you. You lean forward, elbows on knees as you level a glare at your boyfriend. He chews the corner of his lips.

Nervous. He wanted to be in control today – you know he did. His little moves in the bathroom that morning hinted that he was itching to pin you down to the bed and make a mess of you.

Too bad he lost.

“You’re being a sore loser, Jungkookie.” He says nothing, nibbling his lip. “What did we talk about?”

“Not being a sore loser.”

“Come here.” Your voice is soft, almost a croon. “Have some of my wine, baby.”

The gentle voice pulls him toward you. His eyes are soft and brown, so beautiful that you feel yourself soften as he nears you. He smells like faded cologne and a little bit of sweat after a long day, but he smells like Jungkook and you love that.

Leaning back, you widen your legs so that he can slot himself between them. You grab your glass of wine and bring it up to his lips. His brown eyes are hypnotizing as he lets you tilt the glass gently, careful to not spill it all over him.

Jungkook’s throat bobs as he sips the wine. You pull it away, a red bead running down his chin. You lean forward, kissing the wine messily, tongue sneaking out to taste his skin and wine. He makes a breathy sound as you pull away.

“Sweet?” you murmur. He nods, eyes focused only on you. Gently, to brush the hair from his face. It’s longer on the top now, the side and underneath shaved. You love running your fingers through his hair only to scratch the short hair at the nap of his neck.

“Go shower,” you instruct him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Then get in bed. No clothes.”

He nods lips twitching in a smile. “Want you now though.”

You hum, squeezing his hips with your knees. “Wanna make you clean so I can get you all dirty again.”

Something like a moan escapes his lips and he reluctantly pulls away from you. He’s no longer the pouting, pride-wounded boy at the door. You can see you’ve enticed him now – soft dominance is the play now that you know his mood.

You hear the shower turn on. You’ve already showered, having slipped into a sheer lingerie set, the bra, garter belt and panties all sheer, skin tone mesh with white daises and pink, lace lining. It’s a contrast for the black sets you usually where when in charge, a fresh change to surprise Jungkook.

Though you hear him get out the shower, you don’t go into your bedroom right away. You move around the kitchen, grabbing glasses of water to place on the nightstand. Slowly, you walk into the room.

It’s dim, the only light the orange glow of the salt lamp on the dresser. Jungkook is laying on the bed, damp hair pushed out of his face. He is gloriously naked, sprawled with his hands fiddling with the chains around his neck.

And he’s half hard.

You smirk, knowing that Jungkook probably teased himself in the shower, too excited to be patient. You set the glasses of water on the nightstand and he reaches for you. You hiss at him and smack his hands away, making him frown and drop them on either side.

Jungkook is so perfect. Not just because his body is defined by tone muscle with a waist narrow enough to make you jealous, but because it’s his body. Because it holds everything you hold dear, because it keeps him happy and healthy.

You sit near his feet, eyes only for him. Smooth skin, flushed cheeks and neck, half-hard cock that is turning dark at the tip. Your mouth waters.

“Did you touch yourself in the shower?” He shakes his head but doesn’t meet your eyes. You hum, pinching his ankle to make him look at you. “Did you touch yourself a little bit in the shower, Jungkookie? You can be honest with me.”

“Yes.”

“What were you think about?”

“You. Your mouth. Want it so fucking bad.”

“Yeah?” He nods. “Want to feel my mouth around your pretty cock? Want me to lick the tip just the way you like, want me to choke on it?”

“Fuck yeah.”

You smirk a bit. “Touch yourself for me. Show me how you did it, how you like to be touched.”

“You know how I like to be touched.”

You pinch his ankle again and he whines. Licking his lips, Jungkook lifts a hand to grip his cock in his hand. You stop him before he can stroke the shaft, drawing his wide-eyes on you, confused at what he did wrong.

Crawling forward, you straddle his knees. His breath quickens as you lean over him, gathering spit in your mouth and letting it dribble onto the tip of his dick. He curses under his breath. “Stroke your cock for me.” Your voice is a gentle caresses. “Get it nice and hard for me.”

Jungkook is breathy. You feel warm all over, your head emptying of thoughts as you watch his pretty, tattooed hand stroke up and down his cock. The only sound is that of the slick spit and precum he gathers at the tip, spreading it like lubrication. His breath quickens, your eyes focused on his cock. He whines and you look up.

“Hmm?”

“Want your hands.”

“Hmm. No. Want to get you nice and ready for me, yeah?” His knees shift under you. “Here, let me motivate you.”

Carefully, you pull the hoodie off your body, revealing the floral bra. Jungkook moans out loud then, head hitting the back of your headboard. You grin, sliding off of him to shimmy out of the sweatpants.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you.” You lean forward and give him a fleeting kiss on the lips. He chases after your mouth but you dance away from him, straddling his knees again. “Come on, baby. Just a little more. Need some more of my spit?”

He nods. You lean forward and spit on the tip of his cock again, making his hips twitch upward. “Go on,” you urge. “You’re being such a sweet boy for me.”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter as he closes them, stroking his cock with slow, even paces. You lightly run your nails up and down his thighs and he shivers violently, squeezing the base of his cock as you draw light sounds of him.

“Does that feel good?” You ask and he nods quickly. His pace has gotten faster. “Ah, slow.”

“Fuck,” he curses. “Please touch me.”

“I am touching you.”

“Want you to touch my cock.”

“Then listen to me.”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is so gentle that it makes you lean forward, surprising him as you steal a kiss from him. He drops his hands from his cock, fisting the sheets as you lick into his mouth, leading the kiss. It’s gentle and sloppy, Jungkook tilting his face up to you as you run your fingers through his hair, pulling lightly.

Another shiver goes through him as your run your nails against his scalp. You smile into the kiss, sucking his tongue gently. He whimpers.

“Want me to suck your cock like that?” You ask him. You pull back and he sticks his tongue out for you, nodding and pliant. “Ask nicely,” you mutter before dipping back down and sucking his tongue back into your mouth, brushing yours against his. “And maybe I’ll do it.”

“Please,” he asks quickly. “Want to feel your mouth so bad.”

You hum thoughtfully. Your mouth leaves his, pressing wet kisses along his jaw. You nip marks into him, leaving him panting underneath you. Your tongue traces his jaw, licking up to his ear. You nibble lightly on his lobe before whispering. “So sweet for me.”

Kissing down his neck sets a fire in Jungkook. His chest is flushed red, the coloring beautiful as it reaches up his neck. You pull at his sensitive skin with gentle teeth, laving over it with your tongue to sooth the sting.

Jungkook white knuckles the sheets as you pause at his chest, looking up at him through your lashes as your tongue darts out to circle a single, dusky nipple. Jungkook keens, the sound high pitch and faint. Carefully, you nip the bud gently, Jungkook bucking beneath you.

It’s hot – it’s more than hot. You watch his every reaction as you kiss across his chest to lick at his other nipple. His chest is rising and falling at a rapid rate as he pants, a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he squeezes his eyes shut, squirming beneath you. You’re barely touching him but Jungkook has always been sensitive – especially when he’s not in control.

With your eyes still on him, you shuffle down the bed, kissing him every inch of the way. His eyes are back on you, half-lidded and hazy as he stares. You smile up at him, knowing that he’ll do whatever you ask. You love him like this, so needy for you, so willing to give you over every ounce of control and trust.

It fills you with pride, knowing that when he wants to grab your hair, he’s grabbing the sheets instead. Jungkook has learn to control himself, and it’s all so that you can please him.

“You’re so perfect,” you whisper. You grab his heavy cock in your hand. He sighs in relief. He’s hard and aching, thick girth begging for attention. You squeeze the base of his dick lightly as you lick the tip so lightly that he whines. “Love having you like this for me. Love when you let me take care of you.”

“Please,” he whispers.

You hum in response, bending down to suck just the crown of Jungkook’s cock in your mouth. He lets out a loud moan, increasing in volume as your tongue circles the tip. You come off of him with a gentle pop but you down pull away. instead, your tongue leisurely tracing the vein under his cock.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses loudly. “Can I touch you?”

“Nope,” you chirrup. “Hands to yourself. I’ll let you know when you can touch me.”

“Haven’t I been good?”

“I don’t know,” you hum. “You’ve not been super patient.”

“I’m sorry.”

The whine in his voice makes you smile. “That’s okay. Just relax for me, yeah?”

You feel him not more than you see him. You run your hands up and down his thick thighs, placing soft kisses on the flesh. Deciding to reward him for his patience, you give his dick a few slow strokes before you take him in your mouth in earnest.

Little sounds escape his mouth as he closes his eyes. You watch every minute expression on his face, the way his brows crease in pleasure, the way his mouth falls open as he gasps when you sink the warmth of your mouth down on him, hollowing your cheeks for extra suction.

Jungkook is beautiful getting blown. He is so expressive, head rolling to the side. He pants, sweat beading on his chest as you bob your head, making sure to suck him loud and sloppy, just the way he likes it.

For what you can’t reach, you pump with your hand, moving in a steady tandem as he twists the sheets in his hands, thighs and hips jumping with twitches as he moans. You pull off him again, gathering your spit to let it drip from your lips to his tip, pumping his cock faster with a firm hand, twisting at the top the way he likes.

Your boyfriend is melting beneath you.

“Gonna cum if you don’t stop,” he rasps, voice rough. He nods – more to himself than you. “Gonna cum.”

You feel it, the twitch in your hand. You pump him faster and as he begins to twist himself into the sheets, you let go. Jungkook’s eyes snap open with wild fury as you crawl away from him, grinning and settling on your knees just a foot away from him.

“No!” he protests, throwing his head back against the headboard. “Please make me cum please make me come please.”

His begging is cute and soft. You crawl forward, hushing him with a kiss that is more gentle than you’re being with his dick. He licks into your mouth, hungry and wanting, hands pulling at your thighs. He tries to steer you toward his cock but you’re firm, nails digging into the tops of his shoulders.

“Sweet boys make their girlfriends cum first.”

“Yes,” he agrees, looking up at you with blown pupils and pure adoration. You tuck damp strands of hair behind his ear. “Please let me touch you. Want to make you cum.”

“Touch me where, hmm?”

“Sit on my face,” he answers with no hesitation. “Please. Want to taste you.”

“Take these off me, then.”

Jungkook moves too fast. You smack foreheads and groan, holding your head where his hit yours. He apologizes, taking your face in his hands and kissing the spot. You smile as he kisses your lips and murmurs one more apology before his hands, trembling with the denied orgasm, are pulling at the dainty underwear.

“These are beautiful,” Jungkook murmurs. He slides the material down your legs and you help him get them off you. He places them delicately on the bed instead of tossing them. “You’re beautiful. And good at gaming.”

“Yeah?” You push him back. Jungkook slides down the bed, head resting on pillows as you climb up his body. You grab him by the chin gently, making him look at you. “I deserve a good orgasm after winning today, hmm? Going to congratulate me?”

He nods and sticks his tongue out. You know what he’s asking for. You gather spit in your mouth, letting it pool from yours to his. He folds his tongue back in his mouth, swallowing before opening again. You grin at him, so fucking turned on that it takes all of your control not to tell him to fuck you senseless right there.

“Fuck you’re so good,Jungkook.”

His grin is blinding.

Shifting, you carefully put your knees on either side of his head, hovering your dripping core over his eager mouth. You moan breathily when you feel the heat of his breath on your pussy, breath caught in your throat.

“You’re so wet,” he breathes, the words ghosting over your slit. You look down between your legs, where Jungkook is fixated. He licks his lips and lifts his mouth upward, giving a tentative lick that has you sighing in relief. “Mmmm.

“Go on,” you encourage him. With one hand, you hold the headboard. The other cards gently through his hair. “Make me cum, baby.”

Jungkook hums. His hands go to your waist, pulling your pussy further down to his mouth. Your eyes shut and a shaky breath slides through you as he starts to take slow, long licks from hole to clit. The feeling of his rough tongue slowly sliding through your folds makes you grip his hair harder.

Little sounds of pleasure escape him, sighs and humming and moans as he fastens his mouth to your clit, sucking gently. Pleasure shoots through you, your thighs turning soft and jelly as Jungkook begins to eat you out in earnest.

Messy sounds of Jungkook licking, sucking and fucking your hole with his tongue feel the room, accompanied by your soft praises. A steady hum has settled in your stomach, growing as he sucks particularly harshly on your clit.

“Fuck that feels so good, Jungkook.” You rock your hips against his mouth and he flattens his tongue, letting you fuck yourself on his face. “You know exactly how to eat my pussy, don’t you?”

“Mmmm.” His tongue circles your clenching hole a few times before sliding back up to suckle on your clit. “Love eating your pussy.”

“Yeah? Love it when I fuck myself on your tongue?”

“Yes.”

“God, you’re going to make me fucking cuuuum.” You’re panting, barely able to catch your breath. You feel hot all over as your hips take over, finding a rhythm that has you resting your head on the headboard, gasping as you chase your orgasm. “Fuck, Jungkook – so fucking good keep going.”

He hums, fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he helps you ride his face further. “Please cum,” he gasps between harsh sucks on your bundle of nerves. “Wanna taste it. Please.”

It’s the way he sucks on your clit hard and the way he asks so sweetly for your cum that sends you flying over the edge. You squeeze your eyes shut, cursing and pulling his hair tightly as you cum undone, thighs shaking, lungs heaving as you ask for air.

You’re dizzy with the force of your orgasm, muscles in your thighs jumping as Jungkook licks at your hole lazily, not letting a drop go to waste. You sag against the headboard, catching your breath and running your fingers through Jungkook’s hair gently.

“Fuck that felt so good,” you whisper. “Love when you let me ride your face.”

You shift back down so you’re straddling his waist. Jungkook’s lips are wet with spit and cum, the perfect combination. You grab him by the chin, leaning down to swallow his moans as you kiss him fiercely, leading him through the kiss.

Jungkook’s heart rattles against your other palm, skipping and beating and dancing. It beats in time with yours, two wild hearts ready to burst through your ribcage. You love Jungkook so much it hurts sometimes, especially in moments like this where you need no other language but the whisper of skin on skin, the smack of your lips.

“Need you,” Jungkook whispers between messy kisses made of tongue and teeth. “Please. Want to feel good with you.”

“Yeah?” You purr, running nails lightly up his chest. You leave pink marks in its wake. “Gonna let me bounce on your cock?” He nods as you rake your nails back down, just a little harder, angry red lines chasing your hands. “Gonna let me cum first since I won?” Jungkook nods again. “Take this off me.”

Slow hands rub up your thighs, your hips. Jungkook is delicate as he unhooks the garter belt from you, dropping it next to you. His hands are rough from years of different activities. Goosebumps follow in the wake of his hands as they trace your soft curves to your breasts. He squeezes you over the bra, thumbs lightly brushing back and forth across your nipples. You sigh, lids closing as you let him explore your skin.

It's like Jungkook can’t tough enough of you, hands skating up and down your back, felling the pattern of your spin, molding his fingers and hands to the muscles of your back. He unhooks your bra on the second try. You angle your arms so that it’s easier for him to pull it off. The fabric scratches your skin lightly, making you feel overheated and electric.

You look at Jungkook and see a single thing: adoration.

No matter who is leading the way, no matter if the sex is rough or soft or a quicky in the car on a lunch break, Jungkook looks at you with unbound adoration. You’ve been together for years and even when you tried out something new with awkward, tangled limbs and bumping foreheads, you could look at him when you were hesitant and see how much he loved you.

See how much he needed you.

That fire spurs you onward. You love him just as much, especially when he makes a gasping sound as you grab his cock, running the tip up and down your slit, wetting him enough to sink slowly down on him.

Your gaze is locked on watching him as you slowly spear yourself on his cock. The stretch doesn’t hurt – it fills you up, making everything tight and full and wonderful. Your thighs shake, still recovering from the orgasm Jungkook gave you a few seconds ago but you don’t care.

Stuffed full of his cock and fully seated, you watch as the muscles in his body twitch and flex. His entire body reacts to you, especially when you clench your walls on him, grinning as he trembles beneath you.

Jungkook looks up at you with those soft eyes, fists at his side and waiting for you to do something, to do anything.

“What do you want, baby?” you ask him. “Tell me what you want.”

“Want to touch you?”

You roll your hips experimentally, both of you gasping as his dick reaches the deepest parts of you. “Touch me how? Use your words.”

“Wanna suck those tits while you fuck me.”

You trace your hands up your sides slowly, brushing them over your body. You push your breasts together as you slowly begin to roll your hips, sliding up and down his girth. Jungkook makes tiny little sounds under you, veins in his neck flexing.

“Yeah?” you ask using the power of your thighs to fuck yourself on him slowly. “Want to give that beautiful mouth something to do while I get off?”

He nods. “Sit up for me, then. Lean against the headboard.”

Careful not to pull out of you, Jungkook shifts so that he can lean against the headboard. You’re in his lap, fully seated. Jungkook’s obsession with your tits comes out in full form when you’re in charge, his mouth hungrily seeking your right nipple.

A light sigh escapes your mouth as you set a steady pace, rolling your hips to pull you forward and back on his cock. Jungkook moans as his tongue flicks back and forth over your nipple, sucking gently while his hand comes to play with the other.

Your hands dig into his shoulders for support, pushing on the muscle there to lift your hips every time you roll forward, coming down a little harder on his cock as you do. He pants against your chest, kissing all the skin accessible to him as you focus on the tip of his cock brushing your g-spot. You shift a little and find it, a moan forming his name escaping your lips.

“Fuck,” he curses softly. “Feels so good.”

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck you like this?” He nods, nose brushing the valley of your breasts. “You like it when I beat you at video games too, don’t you? You complain about it but I see the way you look at me after.”

You up the pace, bounding fully in his lap. His hands continue to squeeze and massage your breasts, heightening your rippling pleasure every time you sink down on his cock. Jungkook makes you feel so good and even though your words are tight and a growl, you’re coming undone for him. You always come undone for him.

“Love when I kick your ass, hmm?”

“Yes.”

“Love showing off how good I am to all your friends, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck,” you growl. “You’re so fucking perfect Jungkook. Love the way you make me feel, love the sounds you make, love you.”

“Please cum,” he pants. “Not gonna last if you keep doing that. Please.”

Your right hand goes from his shoulder to his neck. You look down at him first, watching for a reaction. He nods his head subtly, leaning back on the headboard and closing his eyes, letting you take control as his hands rests on your hips, applying a little pressure to help you bounce on him.

“So fucking pliant for me,” you gasp, your fingers inching to the edge of his throat. You don’t squeeze as much as you use his pressure points as a place to put your weight. His eyes are fluttering behind closed lids, breathing coming out in soft gasps between swollen and bitten lips. “Such a good fucking boyfriend, so fucking sweet.”

Jungkook hums under your praise. You fuck yourself onto him earnestly, hearing skin against skin, feeling the sweat of sliding bodies, the thick tension in the air. Your stomach coils and your head falls back as you gasp, feeling your orgasm wind and wind and wind until it snaps.

You gasp through it, slowing your hips slightly and shaking as you cum hard around him. Jungkook digs his fingers into your hips, bruising and scratching your flesh. He’s trying not to cum, you can feel him panting beneath you.

You duck your lips to his ear, nipping lightly as you whisper, “Cum baby.” You give his neck a tiny squeeze. “Cum for me.”

Jungkook does. He goes rigid beneath you, head digging into the headboard as you let go of his throat. He seizes harder as the blood rushes through him. You kiss his brow, his hairline, his nose, his temple as he cums, quivering beneath you.

Gently, you still your movements on top of him. It is sticky between you, chest on chest, his arms wrapped around your hips. You’re both panting, hot breath fanning the other. You run your hands through his hair repeatedly, kissing him all over his face as he catches his breath.

Slowly, you lean over toward the nightstand, his softening cock falling out of you. You hate the loss of him, wincing slightly as you feel a mix of cum running down your thighs. You leave it alone, grabbing a glass of water and bringing it back to him.

Jungkook opens his eyes, looking up at you like you hold the stars in the night sky for him. You smile gently as he accepts the water, taking large, solid gulps.

He leans up when he finishes the glass to press a firm, sweet kiss on your lips. Your hands tangle in the sweaty hair at the nape of his neck.

“Thanks for not being a sore loser,” you murmur against his lips, smiling.

He gives your hips a squeeze. “Oh that’s because I want a rematch.”

“Seriously?”

Jungkook grins. “So, when can we play?

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #bts smut #bts fanfic #bangtan boys #haliiimede writes #gamer jungkook #streamer jungkook #jungkook x you #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #minors dni #minors do not interact #dom/sub #sub jungkook

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lcdrarry · 11 months

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LCDrarry 2023 Master List Part 2: Fic

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of this fest,

The 5th installment of LCDrarry has come to an end, and I'd like to thank you all for taking part in this fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for everybody!

Fests would not exist without their participants or readers! You're all amazing! And I'm so happy that you chose this fest in the vast and wonderful offerings of HP and Drarry events.

You can find out under the cut who created what ;D

~Your LCDrarry Mod Tami (@celilasart)

PS: Please have a look at the author notes and tags on AO3 for additional information and more detailed warnings. Thank you! PPS: As always, reblogs are very much appreciated! PPPS: If you're interested in fest statistics, have a look at the Fest Wrap-Up Post. PPPPS: You can find all the lovely podfics and art works in the 1st part of our LCDrarry 2023 Master List.

Enjoy!

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Fic and Art

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Brighton

Prompt: "San Junipero" (episode) from "Black Mirror", 2016 Author: Sniper_Jade Word Count: 24,156 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: BDSM Scene, Shibari, Voyeurism, Alcohol

Summary: Harry Potter finds Draco Malfoy somewhere he never would have expected. It leads him to question everything he has ever thought about himself and his life in the hopes for something better. Something that he never knew he wanted and now can’t seem to live without.

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The Flame Between Us

Prompt: “Lady Chatterley’s Lover”, 2022, Laure de Clermont-Tonnerre Author: AvenueofESC Artist: Bubblegumhead Word Count: 33,060 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: marriage of convenience, open marriage, consensual infidelity, D/s undertones, terminal illness, blood curse, implied mpreg, canonical character death, angst with a happy ending

Summary: The rumoured engagement of one Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy and Lady Astoria Sofia Greengrass has been the talk of Wizarding Society. My dear reader, this author can confirm that the rumours are true.

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This Life Now

Prompt: "Sweet Home Alabama", 2002, Andy Tennant Author: palendrome Artist: S3anchaidh Word Count: 38,295 words Art Medium: Digital Rating: Mature Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Mentions of Divorce, Alcohol, Minor Draco Malfoy/Blaise Zabini, Minor Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter & OMC Friendship, Draco is involved with/engaged to Blaise while separated from but still legally married to Harry

Summary: This close up, Draco can see the differences that have occurred over the years. Harry's hair is longer, although it's as unruly as ever; his forearms are well-muscled and decorated with ink; and there are small lines by his eyes that look like they would crinkle if he were smiling. Which, at this moment, he most definitely is not. He looks like he's worn the same clothes for three days and just rolled out of bed, yet Harry's so unfairly gorgeous it makes Draco's heart ache. "What do you want, Draco?" Harry asks, his voice resigned. The question snaps Draco out of his reverie. "A divorce," he proclaims as he opens his bag.

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Fic

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Do I Know You?

Prompt: "Buffy the Vampire Slayer", 1997, Episode "Tabula Rasa" Author: use_it_well Word Count: 13,488 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Memory Loss, Light Dom/Sub

Summary: Harry knew better than most just how many dangerous items one could come across at Hogwarts.

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Of Stars in Infinite Universes

Prompt: "Everything Everywhere All At Once", 2022, Dan Kwan & Daniel Scheinert Author: lily_winterwood Word Count: 21,792 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Suicide ideation, passive-aggressive homophobia (aka not explicit hatred, just concern-trolling about ~continuing the family line~), mild body horror

Summary: Harry Potter is asked to find a missing Draco Malfoy. (Or: Draco Malfoy is hiding from an omniversal entity. In searching for him through their other lifetimes together, Harry Potter begins to wonder what his former archenemy truly means to him.) (An Everything Everywhere All At Once AU.)

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see the steeple (trace to the spire)

Prompt: "God's own country", 2017, Francis Lee Author: Olena Word Count: 33,857 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Harry’s sure about it being Draco’s fault, just like he’s been sure of any other part of his life. Harry wants to spend a week assisting with the birth of a rare magical creature. He doesn’t want to spend a week at Malfoy Manor assisting Draco with said birth. It’s been seven years since Draco was sentenced to house arrest without magic and now he’s running a farm. A week isn’t a long time, but Harry finds himself distracted by this Draco who is so different from the one he used to know.

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The Piano

Prompt: "The Piano", 1993, Jane Campion Author: shushu_yaoi_lj Word Count: 37,585 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: angst with a happy ending, elective mute Draco, PTSD, mention of canonical child neglect, mpreg

Summary: He arrives on a boat during a particularly stormy day. Harry knew Astoria Greengrass had sent for a husband, someone to keep her company on the particularly dreary and dark winter days on this remote island. Harry didn’t know who it was she had arranged to be sent here. All he knew was that the weather was horrid today, and the Portkeys had never properly worked in this remote corner of the North Sea. The island was special, its magic working in odd and surprising ways. The last person Harry expects to find on the beach is Draco Malfoy.

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Peep Show

Prompt: "Friends", 1994, TV Series Author: kbrick Length: 10,120 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Auror trainees Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy are maybe-possibly-sort-of friends. When Harry moves into the building next to Draco's, they become neighbors, too. Actually, Harry can see directly into Draco's flat from his window. And as it turns out, Draco gets up to some interesting things at night.

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Let it in

Prompt: "Cherry Magic! Thirty years of virginity can make you a wizard?!", TV Series/Show Author: deliciousblizzardshark Word Count: 11,654 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: "Thirty, huh?" Pansy asked. “My cousin told me that Japan there’s this urban legend called ‘cherry magic’. It’s basically that if you turn thirty without, you know, popping your cherry, you get magical powers.” “Pans, I don’t know how to put this to you, but we already have magical powers,” Draco said. Pansy laughed. “No, you dolt. New ones. Apparently the legend goes that you become a mind reader.” Draco shivered. “Sounds awful.” “Anyway, it won’t happen to you, will it?” she asked. Draco shifted a little uncomfortably. “Of course it won’t,” he said. “Because you just said it’s an urban legend.” “I meant, it won’t happen to you because you’re not a virgin.” Draco laughed.

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Harry Potter vs the World

Prompt: "Scott Pilgrim", 2010, Edgar Wright Author: zeddmarker Word Count: 13,943 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence, Cheating/Infidelity, Relationship between a 21 year old and a 17 year old (not endgame)

Summary: A year after the worst breakup of his life, some could argue that Harry is still struggling—dating his best friend's ex-girlfriend's sister. But when Draco Malfoy appears in a dream and then corporeally in front of him, Harry's life is turned upside down. The only thing standing in between Harry and the literal man of his dreams are seven people out to destroy him.

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Hole to Feed

Prompt: "The Menu", 2022, Mark Mylod Author: newskyillusion Word Count: 34,436 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Self-Harm, Blood and Injury, Fiendfyre, Explicit Sex

Summary: Draco tunes them all out, watching as they fly through the water, when familiarity on his glass catches his eyes. The writing – because it’s writing, he realises, when he brings the glass closer – is barely there, blink and you'd miss it. But he would never miss it: the writing is in his dreams, under his fingernails, in his blood. It’s runes. OR The Malfoy-Black Foundation is celebrating its 25th anniversary. But why does the whole staff consist of Hogwarts graduates? And why does Chef Evans seem familiar? Harry Potter meets The Menu (2022)

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Through His Eyes (I Am Set Free)

Prompt: "In Your Eyes", 2014, Brin Hill Author: Shewhxmustnxtbenamed Word Count: 134,034 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Threesome, vouyerism, minor character death

Summary: Harry and Draco have a telepathic connection that remains unexplained in both the Muggle and wizarding worlds. Draco is assigned a mission by Voldemort to locate and capture the Boy Who Lived-- the trouble is that they don't know anything about him. While Draco struggles to gather information on this mysteriously absent hero, he and Harry start communicating again for the first time since they were kids. Harry continues life as normal until he discovers information compels him to abandon his ordinary Muggle life with the endeavor to rescue and emancipate his only friend-- even if that means bartering with his own life.

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The Breakfast Club

Prompt: "The Breakfast Club", 1985, John Hughes Author: peachpety Length: 7,827 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Draco Malfoy is forced to endure a Saturday detention with four other students, including the Golden Bad Boy himself, Harry Potter. Over the course of the day, and under the watchful eye of Filch, the seemingly disparate group form a budding alliance and discovers that they have a great deal more in common than they thought. And Draco discovers that sometimes, he can not only get what he needs, but he just might also get what he wants.

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The Rifts that Reveal Us

Prompt: "The Notebook", 2004, Nick Cassvettes Author: bluesyquill Word Count: 8,539 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: None

Summary: Harry wrote to him. For 365 days. Today, Draco visits him. But learning why Draco didn't write back is just the beginning.

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A Different Kind Of Attention

Prompt: “Yuri on Ice!”, 2016, TV Series/Show Author: Clueless_Pigeons Word Count: 10,706 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Alcohol Use, Drunkenness, Off-screen Pet Loss

Summary: Last year's Grand Prix Final hadn't been easy for Harry. And France's top skater, Draco Malfoy, hadn't made it any easier. This year, however, Harry is determined. He wants that gold medal! But things don't ever go to plan if it comes to Harry James Potter, do they?

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Deep Dive

Prompt: "Heartstopper", 2022, TV Show Author: chxrlieweaslxy Word Count: 13,448 words Rating: General audiences Warnings: None

Summary: When fourteen-year-old Harry Potter returns to Hogwarts for his fourth year, he learns that the school will be hosting the first-ever European Wizarding Student Cup. He is excited for a year of just Quidditch, without Voldemort or any mortal danger. But it doesn’t take long before an unexpected connection with a competitor complicates what was meant to be a worry-free year.

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I Couldn't Love You More

Prompt: "P.S. I Love You", 2007, Richard LaGravenese Author: Ladderofyears Word Count: 73,706 words Rating: Mature Warnings: MCD, grief, mourning, AU- No Voldemort, drinking alcohol, brain tumor, five stages of grief, dead dove don't eat, sex toys, sad moments, unrequited love (not Draco), Draco shares brief kiss with another man, bars and pubs, Harry is dead before the fic begins, he doesn't come back to life.

Summary: Their plan had been a simple one: to stay together for the rest of their lives. When Harry and Draco met, their attraction was instantaneous. They couldn't be without each other and eloped to marry as soon as they could. They wore each other's clothes. Finished each other's sentences. They were going to be together until they were old and grey. None of their friends could imagine one without the other. But, on Valentine's Day, 2010, Harry died. Draco was left devastated. The only light in the darkness is ten letters that Harry has left, labelled with the remaining months of the year. As the letters are opened, Harry shows Draco that life goes on and that he is much stronger than he ever knew. With a lot of help from his friends. Draco realises that, while his life might be very different from what he'd planned, it can still be special.

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0 + 0 = 1

Prompt: "Taskmaster", 2015, TV Show Author: Albuss Word Count: 2,895 words Rating: General audiences Warnings: None

Summary: Harry and Draco go on Taskmaster. That's it. That's the plot.

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A Boesky, A Jim Brown, and the biggest Leon Spinks ever.

Prompt: "Ocean's Eleven", 2001, Steven Soderbergh Author: tsundanire Word Count: 12,030 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: Harry and his group of friends formulate a rather ambitious plan to re-acquire a rare diamond from the clutches of an old enemy—Theo Nott. Along the way, he's hoping to catch the attention of his ex—Draco Malfoy—who is now dating Theo. “What have you heard?” Harry half-whispered. “Rumours are going around that it’s the Starlight Diamond.” The guest half-whispered in reply, excitement practically vibrating out of the man’s pores. “Starlight Diamond?” He feigned ignorance, flicking his glance between the guest and Ginny. “Oh, right, I’m so sorry Mr. Potter. I often forget you didn’t grow up in our world.” Harry twitched, fist clenched. In another life, he probably would have decked the guy for being a prick, but that was the kind of person this sort of event attracted. The old money and the nouveau riche, both looking to flaunt their means and gossip.

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Welcome to Kreb

Prompt: “How to Train Your Dragon”, 2010, Chris Sanders and Dean DeBlois Author: Nelween Word Count: 24,037 words Rating: Mature Warnings: injuries, broken bones, vomiting, killing

Summary: Harry had always been obsessed with dragons. It was one of the reason he had studied them. And when the opportunity came to study draconic creatures in the wild on a deserted magical island with his mentor Charlie Weasley and his friend Neville Longbottom, why wouldn't he take it? If only he knew what he would encounter on his journey...

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The Decision

Prompt: “Fleabag”, 2019, TV Series Author: MurderGrandma Word Count: 5,369 words Rating: Mature Warnings: transphobic slur but don't worry she gets revenge, miscarriage, general horrible person

Summary: Love is awful. Draco Malfoy is dreading helping Pansy Parkinson plan her wedding. That's something horrible people dread, and perhaps that makes her a horrible person. She's determined to behave, until old connections and an increasingly surreal and intolerable dinner party get the better of her.

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The Dying of the Light

Prompt: “Dead Like Me”, 2003, TV Series Author: camomiletea Word Count: 20,078 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Death themes, Implied Infidelity (not between Harry/Draco), Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Notes: “Life sucks, and then you die… And then it still sucks.” – Georgia Lass, Dead Like Me. The biggest thank you to our fabulous Mods for LCDrarry 2023! This community has been an absolute joy to be a part of and I couldn’t recommend it enough to others. And to my beta (R) who (once again) aided my whale call for assistance in the very final stages of submission. This fic would be a mess without you. You're the absolute best. x

Summary: Everyone dies. That’s just the way it is. And then there are the unfortunate few who get promoted.

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Palm Springs

Prompt: "Palm Springs", 2020, Max Barbakow Author: Kittycargo Word Count: 20,137 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Major Character Death, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Time Loop, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Harry collapsed into the chair next to him. “What is happening?” “One of those infinite time loop situations.” “What?!” “You know. Yesterday is today. Today is today, tomorrow is today.” “But how do I stop it? I don’t want tomorrow to be today. I want tomorrow to be tomorrow!” “Yeah, that’s understandable.” Malfoy said calmly. “Do you like tacos?”

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Double Trouble

Prompt: "Alias", 2001-2006, TV Series Author: multiverse_of_fanfic Word Count: 57,440 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: possible tw for torture (non-graphic incarcerous)

Summary: Four years after the War, Draco is stuck in a dead-end job, paper-pushing his life away. Until one day, after a security breach in the Ministry, he receives an offer he can’t refuse. Thrown back into a world he thought he’d left behind, Draco must wrestle with his Death Eater past as well as his inconvenient — and forbidden — feelings for an annoyingly level-headed Harry Potter. Will he manage to come out unscathed like he has most of his life, or will it all come crashing down?

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An Angel, A Demon, and The End of The World

Prompt: “Good Omens”, 2019, TV Series Author: DrWhoIsGinnyHolmes Word Count: 3,844 words Rating: Teen and up Audiences Warnings: Religious imagery and references

Summary: Armageddon has come to Earth and enemies Demon Harry and Angel Draco are forced to come together to figure out how to halt it. They had become rather fond of Earth in all their years upon it, and don't wish it a tragic end. Plus, oh dear, the Antichrist has gone missing.

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Champions of Karlstad

Prompt: "Borg v McEnroe", 2017, Janus Metz Author: Dexiha Word Count: 18,310 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: mention of blood, injuries and ice hockey-typcial in-game violence

Summary: Draco signs a contract with Färjestad BK, one of the top ice hockey clubs in Sweden. Draco's long-time rival, Harry Potter, refuses to play with Draco, but still chooses to follow him to Sweden, signing with another Swedish club. Is screwing with Draco's life all that Potter really cares about, or is there some other intent behind his annoying behaviour?

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A Mist That Appears (For a Little Time)

Prompt: "Sweet November", 2001, Pat O'Connor Author: DodgerKedavra Word Count: 22,490 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: This is a sickfic with mild blood and sickness!

Summary: “Give me November, and I’ll teach you to be happy. There’s only one condition. You must swear on your magic that you won’t fall in love with me.” Harry’s so tired. His whole body hurts. If Malfoy can teach him how to be happy, then... “Okay.” Harry is working himself to death. Draco only has November to help him. Falling in love is strictly against the rules.

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You've Got Owl Post

Prompt: "You've Got Mail", 1998, Nora Ephron Author: slyth_princess Word Count: 50,407 words Rating: Mature Warnings: Questionable Use of Canon

Summary: After discovering muggle romantic comedies during winter break, Pansy Parkinson and Luna Lovegood decide to launch an ambitious project called You've Got Owl Post which matches up students through an enchanted notebook so they can send letters to each other without knowing who is at the other end. It is an instant hit. Harry, without his friends knowing, is one of the first to join. And he rapidly finds a kindred soul on the other side of the pages. In real life, however, he is once again plagued by Draco Malfoy. After fighting in class, McGonagall has had enough. So, as punishment and a lesson, she assigns them the running of that years dueling club. Everyone, including Harry and Draco, assumes it will be a disaster. However, sometimes the people you think you know the best are the ones who can surprise you the most. A story of letters, bets, friendship, love, forgiveness, and discovering who you really are.

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