#cause when was the last time he made a choice for himself? like that man is STRESSED free him!

[blndspotting]

hot take: i dont want jey to choose anybody but himself

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP idea: The old switcheroo

Based on this ask that got me thinking.

It's not well-known that Mary and John Grayson had identical twins. The reason is that Haly Circus had a strict rule about babies traveling with them. There could only be one at a time.

Jack Haly tried his best, but it had been a long-standing rule of the circus back when his grandfather first started the business, and since he enforced it onto everyone else, he couldn't make exceptions for the Flying Graysons even if the second boy wasn't planned.

There were a lot of reasons for this rule. The first was traveling, which was dangerous for the little ones: illness and unsafe equipment. The second reason they encountered more delays whenever they crossed borders was because people were suspicious of multiple children being moved about.

The last was that Fedrick Haly thought children were a distraction and would not stand for his performers to not be entirely focused on their acts. So the rule went up, and anyone displeased with it was welcome to leave. He later allowed for more than one child as long as the first born had was at least ten years old before the second born was on its way.

The problem was that while a few people did leave, most had been born and raised in Haly's circus and couldn't imagine a world where they weren't part of it. Mary and John were in the second category, so they made a hard choice.

They gave up one of the twins to a lovely couple, Madeline and Jack Fenton, and tried not to think about him. They went as far as to leave themselves off of the boy's birth certification. This was a viewpoint the son they did keep, Dick, did not share.

The minute the circus Strong Man let it slip that he had a brother, Dick had tried tracking him down. He found an ally in Jack Haly himself, who had always hated his grandfather's rule and took him on an "educational" trip to America.

The Graysons didn't suspect anything, and the Fentons were also left in the dark because Jack H. was worried they would try to cause trouble among his people if they found out about Dick.

Danny Fenton, Dick's twin, swore to never tell anyone a thing. In his eyes, he saw it as tearing Dick's life apart when it was their parents who made the choice to get rid of him. He didn't even tell his sister or his best friends. He liked to think that one day, when they were older, the brothers would be able to be seen in public.

In the meantime, they shared secret letters as pen pals and would call each other once a month with the help of Haly. It wasn't much, but they built an unbreakable bond.

Then, the Graysons were killed when they were nine. Dick vanished from the face of the earth for a few months. They lost communication until Dick appeared in Danny's life again one year later. It couldn't have come at a better time because Danny, who was used to Dick not responding without months-long gaps in between, was getting angsty that he hadn't heard from his brother.

Apparently, he was taken in by a billionaire who felt a kinship with him, as someone who also watched their parents die. Dick begs Danny to keep their connection a secret for a bit longer because if Bruce knew he had family, he would ship him off to the Fentons, and Dick would never bring their parent's killer to justice.

But he kept their connection a secret anyway so his brother would not lose a second family. Despite what Dick believed, Danny knew that Bruce Wayne actually saw him as a son and that Dick slowly, over the years, thought of him as a father. Dick would later tell him that Bruce was Batman and he was Robin.

Danny didn't have the heart to tell him that he couldn't care less about Mary and John Grayson. He didn't even care that they were dead past the pain it caused his brother. After all, to Danny, they chose a career over him.

They were nothing but a tragic tale. Strangers in every sense of the world. He never even met them.

Both knew that Gotham needed the dynamic duo, so they kept their mouths shut. Danny later realized how important that was when he was turned into Phantom. He too had a city that needed protection.

One day Dick came to him with a proposal.

"We look exactly alike. Down to the mole on our left butt cheeks! No one would know if we switch places." Dick told him excitablely.

"I don't know Dick. I'm not exactly the best actor in the world." Danny started a little hesitant, but he eventually agreed because Dick worded it as a favor he needed desperately.

Danny would do anything for his twin. So he jumps on a plane and flies to Gotham, slipping into Dick's life quickly. He was trained to know people's names, faces, and even his school schedule, which were a part of Dick's life. There were only two things he wasn't prepared for.

Robin's training and the fact that the twins had very different personalities.

On Danny's first night out as Robin, he fell back on his powers to fight crime. He was lucky that Bruce had left Dick on his own for a month now, after years of arguing, and wasn't present to see Robin blast criminals with green rays. He was smart enough to stick to the shadows when people clearly out of his league were up to something- plus, fighting the bigger threats would expose his identity.

When they met up on a roof, Bruce turned to him with a commanding aura that had Danny standing up straighter.

"Robin, report," Bruce, in his Batman outfit, bit out.

After years of giving his parents oral lab reports, he quickly rattled off, "There were four mugging by the east docks, two break-ins at Old Gotham, and a suspected sighting of Joker at-"

Batman slaps him across the face, cutting Danny off. He gasps, clutching his face. "Ow! What the hell!?"

"You were being hysterical. Not once did you crack a joke or insult me. I think the Joker slipped you something." Bruce tells him seriously, tapping his communicator to let Agent A know they needed medical aid as soon as they arrived at the cave.

"What?" Danny demands

"Oh no. You didn't throw a flying kick at my crutch for that. It's worse than I thought. I'm going to have to sedate you." Danny doesn't have time to dodge or go intangible before Bruce leaps at him with a needle.

The following day, he was informed he would not be out on the field until whatever was in his system was cleaned out. The tests picked up his ectoplasm- but Bruce wasn't aware of what it was. Danny is ecstatic about it, getting comfortable in the house of old money and enjoying the world's finest had to offer.

Bruce was unsure why "Dick" was okay with not going out in the field when his angry determination to fight was the whole reason he became Robin. He also took him to a gala, and when he was telling him that the Robinsons had an enormous chandelier and "Dick" was not allowed to swing on it.

"Why would I want to do that?" Danny scoffs, missing the way Bruce's face paled. He was more worried about how obviously popular Dick was and all the people that were tripping over themselves to speak to him.

It was a nightmare.

In school, Dick was in all the advanced classes. Danny was a little worried until he realized without ghosts to fight and people not bullying him every second of the day (Dick was one of the popular kids!), he actually did really well. He enjoyed learning.

Gotham Academy was challenging and engaging in a way Casper High never was. He would go straight home after class, check in with Alfred or Bruce, and then just relax in one of the Wayne pools or in the video game rooms- they had the latest games and systems!

Bruce looked like he was having an aneurysm whenever Danny politely asked him about his day and thanked him for everything he did.

Thankfully, the two switched back after a week-long stay at Wayne Manor. Danny didn't think he could keep tricking Bruce or Alfred without getting caught.

"Did you enjoy your time with Bruce?" Dick asks him after they switch clothes.

"It was.....something. Your foster dad is weird." He tells him.

"Yeah? Well your dad is way too sentetive. He told me he loves me before bed and every morning at breakfast." Dick scoffs. "I still think he was on drugs."

Danny sighs "Well, at least it's over. I miss Sam and Tucker, though I am not looking forward to seeing Dash again."

"Oh, about that. You're suspended from school." Dick tells him casually. "You hit Dash Baxter with a chair after he and his little group surrounded you to shove you in a locker. Thankfully, the ugly one, Paulina, was recording everything because they liked to laugh at the videos, and you broke her hand when you stole her phone. After getting proof of self-defense, plus several other victims coming forward with the videos, the suspension is all you have. Dash is expelled."

Danny gapes at him as Dick winks. "Thanks for doing me a favor of providing the perfect window to protect my twin. Love you! Bye!"

Dick hops onto the plane before Danny can find any words. When he shows up to school, everyone jumps out of his way, eyeing him like he is one second away from telling Sam and Tucker not to come to school tomorrow.

He forgot that Dick has some.....unresolved anger issues. Every day, he is thankful the Graysons gave him away to a family that may be ghost-obsessed, but at least they knew how to process emotions.

Miles away, Bruce watches Robin launch himself with a scream of rage at a mugger and wonders if his son has developed split-personality disorder.

Years later, he tells everyone that Dick has a second personality called Danny, who occasionally slips in once and while. Everyone treats Danny as his own person, including Justice Leauge and his siblings.

Both twins forgot to come clean about each other even after they turned eighteen. They thought the Waynes figured it out because the Fentons did when Dick switched again a few months after Dash got expelled.

It was the fact Dick laughed when his meal came to life, thinking it hilarious. Jack and Maddie were more than happy to have a second son, incredibly one open to ghost research. He did argue a lot about ghost rights, but it was better than Jazz and Danny, who wanted nothing to do with it.

[wonderjanga]

Custody Battle

You know those AUs when Black Adam finds out about Billy being a kid, so he wants to adopt him? Let’s explore a different aspect of that. People think Marvel and Adam are the dads of Mary Marvel, and a kid named Billy, who might potentially be Junior. People also think they’ve been going through a messy divorce.

Marvel: “How many times do I have to tell you? I- Uh Billy, won’t be going to Kahndaq with you!”

Black Adam: “If I throw in the girl, will you let me then?”

Marvel: “Who? Mary?”

Black Adam: “Yes, her. If I’m correct, she’s also a child.”

Marvel: “Wha? Still no! Throwing her in made the deal worse!”

People are thinking Marvel isn’t letting Adam see their kids. People are also wondering how the two had kids, how long they’ve been married, and why it took them so long to divorce. I mean, the two had been throwing each other into buildings long before Adam wanted custody of the kids.

Black Adam: “Being the Wizard’s Champion is too much for you, Batson.”

Marvel: “It is not.” *sassy man eye roll*

As a result of this conversation, the public now thinks two things, one, that Marvel is neglecting his kids due to his work as a hero, or as the Wizard’s Champion. Whatever that means. The thing is though, it isn’t completely surprising because this is gonna be connected this to the “Cap not Caring” post. (In that post, Mary and Billy threaten to kill each other, while Billy fights Freddy)

Marvel: “I don’t want that man around Mary.”

Reporter: “And Billy.”

Marvel: *confused* “What?”

Reporter: “And Billy. Mary and Billy.”

Marvel: “Oh, yeah, and Billy.”

Yeah, people did not like that, because how do you just forget your son exists? To be fair though, Billy’s son is himself. Can you blame him? Too bad that isn’t common knowledge. They’re also flaming him for his “preference” for Mary.

The second thing people think is that Marvel’s name is Batson? People do some digging and find out about C.C.. Billy is now officially his own dad. Now, at the prospect of a child getting potentially kidnapped, or at least having to undergo forced family bonding, some other heroes grew a little concerned.

Marvel: “Guys he’s not getting Billy. I don’t know why he thinks he’s getting Billy. He’s not. I don’t know why he would think he has a choice when the only times he’s been in Billy’s life were to literally ruin it.”

Superman: *extremely concerned* “What..?”

Marvel: “I know right?”

Batman: “Why does Adam now suddenly want Billy?”

Marvel: “Cause he found something out he shouldn’t have.”

Batman: “What did he find out?”

Superman: “Why was a grown man beefing with a child in the first place?!”

Marvel swiftly dodged all the questions by walking away as Clark called after him.

Bonus:

The two get taken to reality court tv.

Marvel: *when it’s his turn to speak* “Jury and judge, he killed his nephew.” *points to Adam*

Jury and Audience: *gasps*

Marvel: “Who’s to say he wouldn’t kill Billy?”

Black Adam: “I’m a changed man now.”

Judge: *glares at Adam for interrupting*

Marvel: “Last week, you slammed me so hard into the ground I ended up in the sewers.”

Black Adam: “That was before, this is now.”

Judge: *bangs gavel* “Mr. Adam! Mr. Marvel is speaking. Refrain from interrupting.”

Black Adam: “Who’re you to tell me that?”

Judge: “The damn judge.”

Audience and Jury: *collective oohs and aahs*

[gay-dorito-dust]

May i request some hcs for dante and vergil (separately if possible) that turned into a younger version of themselves (a toddler or teenager your choice) and they’re s/o is like:??????

I just think it would be funny

Dante

This little shit will try to flirt with you even when reverted back to his teenage self.

And you’re here like: ‘no.’

He pouts, crosses his arms and storms away claiming he’s going to get pizza to heal his soul.

No matter what Dante was always going to be a little dramatic, but needless to say you were more than confused in how he reverted to his teenage self and secretly hoped it wasn’t permanent or else this relationship had gotten weird really quickly.

‘ what happened? I thought you said the mission was easy?’ You asked.

He only shrugs. ‘It was easy until I got hit with something and before I knew it, boom I’m a teenager again.’

‘So you know when it’ll wear off?’ You ask again.

‘Nope.’ Dante replies as he takes a bite out of his pizza, having become too comfortable in his current position a little too quickly for your liking.

God forbid you go out and someone asks if Dante is your son, you had to answer quickly before Dante makes the situation weird and says yes, glaring at him into complying to which he does with a dramatic sigh and agrees unconvincingly.

Seriously Dante as a teenager is a fucking nightmare and your left with a constant headache whenever his endless energy and recklessness got him into situations where you have to break him out of, seeing as you were now the responsible adult for his actions.

And it also doesn’t help that he’s very much aware with how much trouble he was causing you, with the way he smirks at you before shrugging his shoulders, claiming he was still a growing kid in his most vital developmental stages.

He uses ‘I’m just a kid’ as an excuse to anything and everything that he was defiantly the cause of.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, not until he changes back into himself, to which he tries to pull the puppy dog eye card as he pathetically drags a pillow and blanket with him, always looking back at you in hopes you’d changed your mind.

You don’t, you meant what you said and you weren’t about to let up anytime soon.

So when he does change back at long last, you both spent most of the day cuddling in bed to make up for lost time.

Vergil

He’s embarrassed that he had allowed such a thing to happen to him.

Seriously he’s more or less doing everything within his power for you not to see him like this, using the Yamato to open portals elsewhere, or just not interacting you what so ever.

Dante finds this hilarious and will be taking the piss, only to get stabbed, so that aspect doesn’t change.

Vergil made him to swore to secrecy if you ever were to ask his twin where he was, only for Dante to tell you regardless that his brother wasn’t himself.

You initially thought that he’s sick, which is odd considering his half demon lineage, and went to his room with concern and wanting to help heal your stubborn partner. Only to see this younger version of the man you loved in his trademark coat that his form barely fills in.

The eyes were the same, slicked back hair, hand on Yamato at all times as precaution, this was your Vergil alright but why was he suddenly so…young?

‘You shouldn’t be here, I didn’t want you to see me like this.’ He says, voice significantly higher and even cracking in a few places.

‘Dante told me you weren’t feeling yourself, but he didn’t say that you had somehow reverted to being a teenager.’ You replied and you heard Vergil click his teeth in annoyance.

‘Of course that blasted fool couldn’t hold his tongue for more than five seconds, useless.’ He practically hisses as you stifled a chuckle when Vergil has to push up the sleeves of his now oversized coat so he could use his hands as he grunts in frustration.

it was adorable! You couldn’t help it even as he sent a glare at you that told you to not find humour in his current predicament.

In your eyes teenage Vergil was like that of a kitten, if you could pick a specific breed, you’d most specifically pick a Russian blue to compare him to in terms of physical appearance. White fur/hair and a striking pair of blue eyes.

He would mostly spend his time trying to find a way to revert back to normal, so there’s not much chaos with Vergil, he was essentially the same as he was as an adult but it was obvious that there was more anger and hostility within his younger self when it came to his human side.

He read, he trained, he went on long missions in hopes of finding something to solve his teenage problem faster. He was pretty much recluse and kept to himself more often than not.

Yet there will be moments where you’d see his silhouette from afar, acting like your silent guard dog whenever you were out, eyes scanning for people willing to cross the unspoken line. And when they did, it was humorous to see fully grown men having their asses handed to them by a teenage version of your Vergil. It was certainly a highlight to your day.

But it doesn’t compare to when he does revert back to normal, acting the same as he always did as though nothing had happened. This little situation would stay and die with the both of you for as long as possible, or unless Dante decides to be the brotherly dickhead that he is and tell all.

[tricksters-captain]

Declan O'Hara imagine - I'm not doing this.

A/N: I thought about this one shot weeks ago... finally writing it. Probably been done already by someone else but who isn't obsessed with rivals atm. I also haven't written in years.

Summary: Declan is fighting against himself and everything he believes in when you come into the picture.

Warnings: Age Gap, fem!reader, NSFW content 18+, strong language, bit of a slow burn.

"Taggie, honestly, I don't know why you'd ever willingly add Brussel sprouts to anything." You chuckled as you both crept through the door to the kitchen.

"They're good for you!" Taggie tried to defend her culinary choices for her Sunday lunch.

"If they're good for you then I always want to be bad."

"Who's being bad?" A thick Irish accent filled the room as Taggie's dad sauntered in, a mug of coffee in one hand with his other burrowed deeply into his trouser pocket.

"Dad, this is (Y/N). (Y/N) was just objecting to my sprouts."

"Oh yeah, I agree, terrible things. Even the dog won't eat 'em" Declan brought his mug to his lips, smirking through the thick moustache that hid his upper lip.

You felt your insides alight at his dark, playful expression as he teased Taggie.

That was the first time you knew you were a bad friend. A bad friend who wanted your new friend's father to lift you onto the kitchen table and bury his head between your thighs.

The thought made your cheeks burn red as you laughed at Declan's remark and Taggie's complaints against him.

The man left the kitchen when his eyes flitted back to you, sending you a nod and a 'lovely to meet you, (Y/N). '

You couldn't help but replay the way he said your name in your head over and over and over again until you were desperate for his voice to sing it again.

The next time you saw Declan O'Hara was at the O'Hara New Years Eve party.

"You better not spend the whole time in here. I'd actually like you to put a dress on and come out to dance at some point tonight." You pleaded with Taggie as she clasped your necklace for you.

"I'll try but I can't make any promises. Anyway, you're out there to be my eyes and ears. You need to tell me if anyone complains about the food, okay?"

"Yes, Taggie. But no one will because you are amazing and your food is amazing and you are so right for not letting me help you cook or serve after I burnt the soup last time." You faced her as she continued to prep the ingredients she would need for the feast she had planned.

"You are a great friend but you are a terrible cook." Taggie agreed. You felt a lump in your throat at the words. Were you a great friend for literally fantasising over her father after almost every time you had an interaction with him? "Now please go next door and make sure that all the tables have the right cutlery for me?"

"Anything for you, Agatha!" You headed to do as you were told. Looking down to smooth out your dress when you felt yourself collide with something solid.

"I'm so sorry!" You looked up to see Declan turning, laughing softly at your clumsiness.

"It's okay, love." Declan's own eyes fell down your body, his lips parting slightly as he took in the sight of you all dressed up. He knew you were an attractive girl but you were Taggie's age and one of her only friends in the surrounding neighbours beside Lizzie. "You look beautiful."

The sincerity in his voice caused a chill to roll up your spine.

"Thanks. You look very handsome too, Mr. O'Hara." You didn't know why you felt so shy around him. You were so used to owning your space and holding your confidence when you fancied someone.

"That's very kind, (Y/N). And it's Declan. I don't want to tell you again." Declan send you a wink as he started to pass you. "Hey, and no snogging my son at midnight. You're way too good for him."

Your heart squeezed at the taunt. Patrick was a gorgeous boy and he had tried to flirt with you when he met you but you were far too interested in Declan for Patrick to make any dent in your crush.

"He's not my type anyway." You managed to find your tongue to quip back an answer.

"Good girl."

Good Girl.

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself replying something entirely inappropriate in response.

As the night went on, you felt your heart drop more and more. Declan was obsessed with his wife. His wife was obsessed with anyone else.

You were desperate to try and make more conversation with the man but almost everyone was grabbing his attention to discuss some work matter or other.

As the countdown began, you gut wrenchingly watched as Maud and Declan kiss. You put on a smile and exchanged celebrations with those around you. Giving Lizzie a kiss on the cheek as her husband blanked her as he usually did.

"Happy New Year, chicken." Lizzie pressed on a faux smile as you did.

"Happy New Year, Lizzie."

"A little advice for your new years resolution if I may?" Lizzie whispered as she drew you closer.

"You may want to get better at hiding your admiration for Taggie's father. I know nothing hurts more than something you can't have." Lizzie's words took you back, you felt your cheeks burning red and your smile drop.

"Oh, Lizzie, I'm mortified! Please don't tell Taggie." You begged.

"Not a peep." Lizzie motioned locking her lips with a key before grabbing your hands to singing sway along with the room.

The night went on and Lizzie tried to encourage you to join in festivities. You drank more and more, being forced away whenever you tried to help Taggie wash up, and you soon found yourself needing some quiet time.

You let yourself into Declan's office, leaning against the desk, fingers gripping the underside to give you some stability when the room started to ever so slightly spin.

You closed your eyes. Inhaling a shaky breath when you heard the door creek open.

"I thought someone unwanted had decided to sneak through my things." Declan's melodic accent forced your eyes open.

"I'm wanted, am I?" You smirked slightly, through the sickness as your eyelids closed again.

Declan didn't respond. Instead he just studied you from across the room. His hands in his pockets, his stance leaning back just ever so slightly.

"You struggling there?" Declan was amused at your state.

You tried to push yourself off the desk but instead felt yourself stumble forward.

Declan's amusement quickly turned into concern as he stepped forward to catch you.

"Steady on." Declan had managed to stop you from hitting the floor, your face pressed against his chest, his strong arms engulfing you as he pulled you up towards him.

"I'm so sorry..." You mumbled as you leant away to look up at him.

His features were so strong up close. You could smell the whisky on his breath as your eyes lingered on his lips.

"Maybe we should get you some water and put you to bed."

Declan's words drew your eyes to his own. His chest seemed to go tight as he starred down into your glassy (Y/E/C) eyes.

"You can take me to bed any time you want, Mr O'Hara." Your words slurred together with your weak attempt of drunkenly flirting.

"It's Declan."

"Okay, Declan..."

That was the first time Declan had heard you say his name. Something inside him knew he wanted to hear you say it again but he fought against the thought, pulling away from you as you gained your stance.

"Let's hope you don't remember this in the morning, ay?" Declan tried to make light, convincing himself the electric feeling he had was nothing.

"Why? I finally got my chance in your arms. My dream come true."

"Yeah, you really won't want to remember this in the morning. Come on..." Declan opened the door, waiting for you to follow suite. The noise of the party echoed around you; you had almost forgot it was still going on outside.

"Have you ever thought about me?" You had no idea where this liquid confidence had stirred from.

There was a pause before he answered.

"No." He was lying. He knew he was lying. He watched the disappoint subtly encase your eyes as you pursed your lips into a thin smile.

"If I was dreaming, you would've said yes. Goodnight, Mr O'Hara."

"Goodnight, (Y/n)."

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

As the weeks went on, rivals became friends. Friends became rivals. You grew closer to the O'Hara family and the moment from NYE had simply been forgotten. Or so you thought...

The dread that had filled your gut that New Years Day after you remembered the incident brewed inside of you for weeks. You had successfully avoided Declan, only seeing him in group scenarios and meetings for Venturer.

"(Y/N), I left some of my flyers on the table in the living room if you want to use them." Taggie climbed into her car, shouting over at you as she rushed off. You both had been going door to door for Venturer in different areas to cover more ground but you had run out of flyers to hand out.

"Thanks, Tag!" You rushed inside, running through the house that still held a cool air inside despite the early summer warmth outside.

"Careful!" You heard a voice proclaim as your bodies hit.

Within the blink of an eye, you had hit the floor with a body on top of you.

"Are you alright?" Declan groaned as you winced underneath his weight. The hard floor sent a wave of pain through your back but you had managed to not hit your head.

"Ow." You grumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Did you hit your head?" Declan propped himself up on his arms, examining your face with a furrowed brow of worry.

"No." Was all you managed to say.

"I thought we had left bumping into each other for last year." Declan recalled on when you knocked into him last New Years Eve before the party had started.

"Clearly I'm not very good at keeping to New Year's resolutions."

Declan chuckled, pushing himself up before offering his hand.

You felt the warmth of his body leave you and the coldness of the floor pierce your bones.

You took his hand; hauling yourself to your feet.

"You sure you're okay?" Declan insisted. His hand reached out to take grip of your waist, his thumb and finger burning against your skin that had been revealed by the edge of your venturer top riding up. His other finger waved past your eyes, checking for concussion.

"I'm fine. No more running in the house with blind corners." You took a step back from the man, straightening your shirt to try and control the lingering feeling of the mans hand on you.

"Now... are we okay?" Declan rephrased,

"What do you mean?"

"(Y/N), don't play stupid. You've avoided me for almost half a year now. You won't even walk around the house without Caitlin or Taggie next to you."

You didn't think that Declan would've noticed with how busy he was with work and his life. Why would he have cared where you were or what you were doing in the house?

"I'm still living down my behaviour at New Years." You reluctantly admitted.

"What, that? Everyone says stuff they shouldn't when they've had a few too many. Doesn't mean you have to never look me in the eye again."

"What I said was completely inappropriate."

"Yes, it was. You're the same age as my daughter and I'm a married man but I'll have to admit I'm a little flattered." Declan tried his best to ease your anxiety. "I don't exactly see myself a teenage heart throb."

"I'm not a teenager." You bit back, the harshness your voice surprising you both.

"There's not much difference. You're practically a child and should be going for someone your own age." Declan quit the joking tone he had been using, taken back by your defence.

"Don't call me a child. I'm not the same age as Caitlin. I am older than Taggie and I've been with men before so I'm not playing silly little girl games over here. This isn't some school girl crush on a handsome teacher. You're right my feelings for you are inappropriate because you're a married man and I'm friends with your daughter but not because of my age. I know who I am and what I feel." A fire lit up your chest as you finally had broken out of the timidness you hated.

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Declan took a step closer to you, his stare burning into you as he lowered his voice.

"You're the one who reads people. Tell me what you see in me." You matched him, standing so close to him you could feel his breath on your face as you gritted your teeth.

The air was thick. The silence of the house engulfing you both, your breath audible and quick. You thought you could almost hear your heart thudding against your chest.

Declan was the one to break away. Storming to his office with a hard slam of the door.

How did your conversation turn so heated?

That night Declan tossed and turned, his head filled with moments of you. He rolled over and gently woke up his wife with soft strokes on her shoulder blades.

"What?" Maud hummed, rolling her head over her shoulder to Declan.

"I'm awake." Declan pressed himself against his wife.

"I can feel that." Maud looked at him through a sleepy gaze.

"Let me touch you." His fingers glided over her skin until he reached the space between her legs. Maud moaned quietly as Declan began to part her folds with his finger.

"Declan..." Maud sighed as she pressed her backside into him, feeling his member hard against her.

Declan wasted no time in entering her. He closed his eyes as his dick pressed inside his wife. And all he could see through the darkness was your eyes looking up at his. The first time he had seen you in the kitchen. The bump in the hall, the incident in his study, every time he had caught you intensely listening to one of his speeches to the group, the crash against the floor. You underneath him. The tiny bit of skin his hand had managed to caress from the bottom of your shirt.

He had never thought of you before. Not with Maud, not with his own hand and imagination and he couldn't make sense of why that night he finished almost as fast as his inexperienced teenage self had once before.

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

It had been Declan's turn to avoid you from that day. He couldn't be too close to you without feeling his throat go dry, a sickening guilt and twisting conflict rising with it.

It was the evening you'd find out whether Venturer was a real contender against Corrinium.

The O'Hara house was filled with people eagerly waiting except one who had decided to leave the house for good.

The house erupted in cheers and celebrations as the phone call confirmed it for you all.

You watched through the window as Maud drove off, leaving Declan and Taggie behind.

"We did it!" Taggie squeezed you tightly before embracing her father and to your surprise, Declan had also pulled you into a tight hug. You had hoped no one picked up on the slight awkwardness that left the embrace when Declan moved onto join the others. You couldn't help but feel it.

The party went on and you tried to keep an eye on Declan without making it too obvious (like Rupert and Taggie had failed to).

When Rupert left Declan's side for another whiskey, (Taggie swiftly disappearing just after), Declan slipped away to his study. You followed.

"I'm sorry about Maud." You made your presence known as you watched him place his glass down on the desk, his back to you when he replied.

"Don't."

"Fine." You clenched your jaw, unsure of what to say next at the warning in his tone.

"What do you want from me?" Declan's voice had a hint of desperation. He turned to face you. You had seen this look before.

"I don't––"

"––No 'cause you followed me in here. You are everywhere I look. I can't even get a wink of sleep most nights without dreaming of two things. You or beating Tony fucking Baddingham. And I can't think of you because you're young enough to be my daughter and I'm a fucking hypocrite for telling Rupert to stay away from Taggie when I look at you in that dress and wonder what you would look like with it on this floor right now. I'm not doing it. I can't do this."

Declan's outburst kept your feet frozen in place. Had he really just admitted to wanting you as badly as you wanted him.

You felt your hand roll the zipper of your dress down your side, your body moved without force as you slipped the straps over your shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

"Fuck..." Declan barely breathed out the word. His stare devouring every inch of your skin.

"I'm not doing this." Declan uttered again barely even audible as if only to himself before striding towards you. His fingers found your hips as he thrust you against the door.

His lips were on yours before your back found the solid wood behind you.

You reached up and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself up towards him, trying to bring your body as close to his own as possible. You needed every gap between you gone. You wanted to feel the heat of him even on this sticky summer evening.

"What am I doing?" Declan broke away and dropped to his knees, placing a firm hand on the middle of your stomach to hold you flush against the door.

There was a deep hunger in his eyes as he lifted one of your thighs up onto his shoulder, never breaking his gaze from your face to almost check if what he was doing was allowed.

You threw your head up, trying to find the air he had stolen from you, one hand finding a grip within his dark curls as your welcome reply.

"Please." You whispered.

Declan moved your panties to the side, a finger running over your folds, sending fire against your skin before he closed his mouth around you.

You let your eyes roll back as his tongue darted across your clit. Electricity filled your body with every moment of contact.

You felt his fingers circle lightly around your entrance. Your hand jumped from his thick curls to tightly grip the back of his own that pushed against your stomach. His grip on you felt as if it were all that was holding you up.

"You want me this badly?" Declan asked with a mixture of teasing and shock. The wetness of your heat coated the tip of his fingers and glistened on the dark hairs of his moustache.

"I've imagined this so many times." You admit honestly.

"I best live up to your expectations then." Declan inserted a finger inside of you, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips, which made Declan's cock twitch inside his boxer shorts. "Shhhh"

You placed your free hand over your mouth to which Declan smiled a toothy grin at you.

"Good girl" he purred.

Declan rose to his feet as he placed another finger inside of you, thrusting them in and out of you in a painfully slow motion that only made you ache for more.

Declan turned the lock on his door with his other hand before pulling himself away from you completely.

You pouted at the lack of contact to which he tutted.

"So impatient." He uttered as he undid his belt, pulling it from its loops and then kicking his trousers down.

Your eyes fell on the large member pressed against his underwear. The tip seeping precum through the material in a dark stain.

"Go to my desk." Declan ordered.

You almost ran over, Declan caught you by the waist and lifted you up onto it. Spreading your legs with his knee.

"Are you sure you want this?" Declan stripped himself of his shirt, revealing his chest covered with dark thick hair that you reached out to touch. This didn't feel real.

"More than anything." The words were so quiet but Declan seemed to hear them as he freed himself from his underwear.

You reached behind and unclasped your bra.

"Jesus..." He took a handful of your breast, squeezing you firmly as he stroked his member.

"Declan, please." You couldn't wait any longer. The ache pained you.

Declan didn't need to be told twice.

He tore your underwear down your legs and pressed his tip slowly into you.

You bit down on your lip hard to stop yourself from making any noise.

"Holy fuck..." Declan failed at being quiet. You were so tight against him he felt he could've finished inside of you within minutes.

You reached forward and hooked a grip behind his neck, encouraging him deeper inside of you.

"Fuck me please." you pleaded, trying to move your own hips to create some friction.

Declan took the hint and began thrusting into you quickly. His fingers almost bruising your skin as he held you steady on the desk.

The rattle of the belongings on the desk seemed to echo around the room alongside the slapping of skin.

Declan lifted you up, still inside of you and gently placed you down on the floor.

He hovered above you, just like he had once before, watching your face twist in pleasure as he fucked you.

You squeezed his shoulders, your nails leaving an impression whilst he brought you closer to your climax. You pressed your hips up into his creating hot friction against your clitoris, making you throb inside.

"Declan..." You tried to let him know; still trying to whisper to stay quiet.

"Cum for me, princess." Declan smirked, his stare never faltering as he rode you through to your end. He could feel you tighten around him only encouraging him to fuck you harder and deeper.

You bit down on your hand as your climax convulsed through you. Your body shaking in between Declan and the floor.

Declan moved you both effortlessly, lying on his back with you sat on top of him.

You leant ever so slightly forward, steadying yourself with your hand stretched out against his chest.

You smiled wickedly at him as you rolled your hips.

You felt exhausted by your own finish but knew you wanted to see the older man in the same state.

"That's a good girl." Declan held onto your hips, helping you pick up your pace.

His lips parted as he watched you ride him, sweat dripping down your skin mixing with his own as his dick twitched inside of you.

"Fuck (Y/n)." Declan cursed.

You shifted your hand to his neck, Declan almost laughed, flipping you again so that he was behind you. Both of you on your knees as he held you against his chest, his hand wrapped firmly around your neck with his opposite arm securely around your middle.

The sensation was almost unbearable as his thick member pumped in and out of you at such speed.

"You think you want to be a bad girl?" Declan hissed in your ear.

You could only shake your head.

"Bad girls get punished." Declan bit hard down on your shoulder and you fought to not cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain.

"You're mine now." Declan's own proclamation brought himself to his own climax. He pulled out, spilling his seed over his own thighs to avoid finishing inside of you much to your own disappointment.

"I know you wanted that inside of you like the dirty girl you are." Declan teased you as he gave your throat one final soft squeeze.

You fell against him, both trying to catch your breath.

"Declan?" A voice and a knock came at the door.

"Shit..." The realisation of what had just happened and where it just happened hit Declan like a cricket bat to the face.

"I'll be out in a mo." Declan scrambled for his underwear and you did the same.

"Hurry up! I know that's where you're hiding the good stuff!" Bas' voice was more evident now and whilst he was definitely talking about the whiskey. The both of you couldn't help but laugh.

[mintyys-blog]

its 1am and im feeling like i wanna hurt ngl, could i rq what the mark variants would feel and act like about an s/o whose begging their mark to kill them cause they'd rather die by his hands than at all. Like it could be because of an illness they have with no cure, that they got tired rotting from the inside out or a wound so fatal, they'd rather end the moment quick with the touch of the man they love being their last memory. Some of the marks would probs be angry, angry that they'd ask him to do that, and angry at himself cause he WOULD do that for them, because he loves them sm to save them and not let them live through that pain.

Go haywire teehee🩷

HEADCANONS | when the variants s/o asks for them to kill her

INVINCIBLE MASTERLIST | WARNINGS: death, blood

MAIN MARK

You were trembling in his arms, your skin cold and clammy as your breath came in uneven, shallow bursts. The poison was spreading too fast—no cure, no chance. You had hours, maybe less. Every second hurt more.

“Mark… please.” Your voice cracked, fragile and desperate. “I don’t want to die in agony. I don’t want to be scared. Just… if I have to go, let me go feeling your touch. Your love. Please.”

He froze.

“No.” His voice broke instantly. “Don’t ask me to do that. Don’t—don’t put that on me.”

Tears fell hot and fast down his cheeks, his grip tightening around you. “I’m supposed to save you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

“You can’t save me this time.”

His forehead pressed to yours, his shoulders shaking as the reality crashed into him. You watched him wage war with himself. He wanted to scream, to fly you to every corner of the planet looking for a miracle, to rip the sky apart and demand a god fix this.

But he looked at you. At your pain. Your soft smile. Your love.

“I love you,” he whispered. And when you nodded, whispering it back, he made the most devastating choice of his life—for you.

MOHAWK MARK

The throne sat empty for three days.

No one dared speak his name.

Not even the strongest commanders, not the most fanatical advisors, dared disturb the silence that settled over the empire like a funeral shroud.

He had killed before—millions, easily. He had ended rebellions, wiped planets clean for less insult than a raised voice. He had ruled with blood and iron, his will absolute.

But this…

You were different.

He’d killed many in his lifetime. But this was the first time it cost him.

The blood on his hands was always red. But yours—yours—never washed off.

He stayed in your shared quarters. Your clothes were still folded. Your cup, still half-full. There were claw marks in the walls from the moment he screamed after it was done. A scream so loud, the mountain palace cracked at the base.

The bed was untouched.

He couldn’t bear to lie in it alone.

But he did sit beside it every night. The necklace you always wore was wrapped around his wrist like a chain.

He spoke to you sometimes.

“They think I’m weaker now.”

His voice was a low murmur. Not for show. Not for command. Just a man broken and trying to sound like he wasn’t.

“They’re wrong. I’m worse. Because now I know what it’s like to lose something sacred.”

The empire kept functioning.

Ships launched. Treaties enforced. Fear kept order. But the Emperor didn’t smile. Didn’t rage. Didn’t breathe fire.

He was quiet now. Efficient. Cold.

But every month, like clockwork, he flew alone to the edge of the galaxy. Where he scattered your ashes into the rings of a planet no one lived on. Where he could speak without eyes or ears, and just be yours again.

Where he could kneel.

And whisper, over and over, like a prayer carved into his soul: “Forgive me.” “Forgive me. “Forgive me.”

SINISTER MARK

“No.”

You were coughing blood, your limbs barely working, but you looked at him with the same soft eyes you always did. You reached up, touched his face.

“Please. It’s time. And I want it to be you.”

His eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like he might break something.

“You think I’m just going to let you go?” he growled. “After everything?”

“I’m not asking to leave you,” you whispered. “I’m asking to let go of the pain.” He stared at you like you’d betrayed him. His voice was low. Dangerous.

“I would burn this world down to keep you breathing.” You shook your head gently. “But would you let me suffer just to keep me alive?”

That made him still. Utterly silent. His expression softened, just a fraction. And for the first time in his life, he looked powerless. “…You don’t get to ask me for this,” he murmured. “Because I’ll do it. And I’ll never be whole again.”

His hands trembled as he held you. He kissed you like it was the last piece of his soul. Then his voice, rough and raw: “Close your eyes, love. Let me take the pain now.”

VILTRUMITE MARK

“You will not ask me that again,” he growled, blood staining the ground beneath you both. Your wound was too deep, your organs too ruined.

You were dying, and he couldn’t stop it.

“Mark, please,” you rasped, barely able to hold your head up. “I’m not scared of dying. But I want it to be you. I want… your eyes to be the last thing I see.”

His hands clenched into fists. He’d survived galaxies, killed kings and conquerors. He broke civilizations. And now the one thing that mattered—truly mattered—was slipping away, and all he could do was kneel there, useless.

“You think I can live with that?” he hissed, but it cracked, sounded too human for the warrior he pretended to be. “You want me to carry that weight?”

“I want you to set me free.”

He sat still for a long moment. Breathing heavy. Eyes wild. Then, slowly, reverently, he held you close. His kiss was deep—full of pain, of goodbye, of love unspoken for too long.

“…I’ll carry it,” he whispered. And when he did it, it was quick, gentle. The most merciful death the galaxy’s deadliest weapon had ever delivered.

PRISONER MARK

You were lying in the cell with him—two prisoners, one broken by the world, one by their body.

The infection was eating you alive. A slow, painful thing. The med-tech had failed weeks ago. You were tired. You were done.

“Mark,” you croaked, head resting against his chest. “I need to go. But I don’t want it to be cold. I want you to be the last thing I feel. Please.”

He held you tighter.

“No,” he said immediately. “I won’t hurt you. Not again. Not ever again.”

“You wouldn’t be hurting me,” you whispered. “You’d be freeing me.”

He shook, trembling like a wounded animal. His eyes were wide and terrified. “I see blood every night. I see you dead in my dreams already. I can’t—I can’t make that real.”

“You’re not a monster.”

“I was. I still am.”

You cupped his cheek, coaxing his gaze to yours. “But I trust you with my life… and my death.”

He cried, silent and breathless, as he wrapped you in the softest hold you’d ever known. And when he finally gave in, it was a mercy so tender it broke him completely.

He whispered your name for hours afterward. Like if he said it enough, he could call your soul back.

OMNI MARK

You laid on the marble floor of his palace, the stars of ten conquered systems glittering outside the windows. You were fading fast, a cosmic illness unraveling your body cell by cell.

He knelt beside you, his hands coated in your blood.

“You’re asking me to kill you?” he asked, cold and calm, but his eyes were wild. “Me? After all I’ve done to protect you from death?”

“I trust you more than anyone,” you whispered. “Please. I don’t want to suffer.”

“You would rather die by my hands than linger one more hour?” he asked, not angry—but stunned. You had always been his soft spot, his love, the tether to what little humanity remained.

He exhaled sharply, the sound more like a growl.

“You would make a god kneel to death.”

He looked away.

“I’ve ended worlds that insulted you. I’ve slaughtered armies for you. And now… you want me to say goodbye?”

“Just hold me. Just… hold me, and make it fast.”

He gathered you up like you were made of glass, pressing his lips to your forehead, your brow, your lips—each kiss slower than the last.

When he did it, it was with the same hands that tore stars apart.

And for the first time in centuries… he wept.

[sakebytheriver]

Nathan Ford, my favorite Greek tragedy on cable TV, an Icarus with wax wings made of righteous anger and a moral code that he'll break any rule for, burned up in the hellfire of his own rage, a modern day Prometheus stealing fire from the gods and giving their power to the people so that they can burn down the thrones their oppressor sits upon sealing his own fate and dooming himself to eternal suffering while knowing if he was given the choice a thousand times over he'd still do it every single time

Nathan Ford, my favorite blorbo packed with every type of Catholic imagery you could give to one man, joined the seminary to atone for the sins of his father, left to serve a different master playing detective for an insurance agency before the loss of a son crumbled his whole world down around him like the walls of Jericho, and in his grief he was handed a burning sword by fate and told to Avenge. The archangel Nate Ford, given a flame of anger so hot it rained hellfire down upon those that would never fit between the eye of a needle, a violent saint on a righteous crusade soaking the world in blood and that will only end one way, he'll leave a graveyard behind him, but he will still have to dig one last grave when he's done

Nathan Ford, my favorite folk song hero, a Boston Irish drunk, the moral son of an immoral mobster, an utter bastard with anger management issues, and a control freak with a sadistic streak, who took all the pain and all the anger in his heart and used it for Good, the ballad of Nate Ford echoes through the world like a call to action, an inspiration for the future, the sacrifices he made to be the catalyst for a movement he'd make over and over again even if the nature of being the spark means you'll never see the fire

Nathan Ford, my favorite terrible horrible broken man content to drink himself into an early grave if it mean he'd get to see his son again until he was given a chance to ruin the lives of men infinitely worse than he could ever be and save even just one person the same pain he suffered and so he postponed his death until his rage burned his own heart into ash

Nathan Ford, a tragedy with only one ending, but by God if he wasn't going to cause some hell on his way down

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Jing Yuan significant other.

Imagine stirring awake in your sleep as you slowly register the heat of the morning sun entering the room. Brows frowning, you open your eyes gently, being mindful of the sun, only to be greeted by a hand shielding you away from the sun. "Good morning sleeping head." It was your lover in his deep, husky morning voice. Squinting and staring at him, you move only to get close and snuggle close to him earning a huff and a laugh. "Alright, let's sleep some more."

Imagine slapping him by his arm when he wouldn't stay still as you dress him. "Darling! Stay still!" At this point, you might end up poking him by his accessories. "But dearest, I don't want to go" He whine like a child causing you to slap his arms once again in disapproval, also earning a groan from your lover as well as a pout.

Imagine standing there behind him, hands crossed on your chest as you look down at the car snuggling into your legs. Smiling at the little guy, you turn your attention back on your lover as he water the plants. And suddenly, he was looking at you. "Hello dearest." He smiles gently at you in which you return. "Hello darling. How's your day going?"

Imagine visiting during your free time, taking your sweet time before dropping of into his office. Greetings the people as you went on, you finally arrived at his office. Knocking three times, you open the door only to find your lover silently dozing off. There he was living up to his title as the dozing general. Looking around, you silently made your way beside him before sitting down.

Imagine the way you reach out a hand to brush away his hair away from his face when he lean in into your touch. Upon doing so, you had the urge to pinch his cheeks if it was not for your self control. Sighing to yourself, you gently withdraw away from him and quickly scan the paper works left on his desk when the door opened and "gene!-ral?" The man halted upon setting his eyes upon you. Is it urgent? You signed to the man only for him to shake his head, waving the papers in hand. Come here. You signed.

Imagine Jing Yuan finding himself on a rather comfortable position, his head lay down on a rather comfortable and familiar lap causing him to get up if it was not for you caressing his cheek all the way up into his hair. "Good evening sleepy head. Did you have a nice nap?" "You should have awaken me, dearest." "I figure out that letting you take a nap would be a much better choice darling." You smile down at him.

Imagine being Jing Yuan may not be as adventurous and active as you two were once was. Those were, another stories of your youth that has now passed by and carved into ever lasting memories. What's important is that, the two of you were still here, still by each other side. Still in each other’s arm.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

: I came here after the animation, bye.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Dani has a too many break-ups for Danny’s heart to handle as an older brother- So he gives her a criteria that her next boyfriend needs to fit for Danny to approve of their relationship. 

Dani was really excited about her new boyfriend. He was witty, and charming, knew how to sword fight and was absolutely stunning. He loved his family, was passionate about animals and social justice causes, and he was an artist! She had a thing for green eyes, and hey, he was actually super chill about them having flexible schedules to see each other (she had vigilante shit to do that she couldn’t explain)! It’s been going on for a few months and she’s honestly ready for him to meet Danny & Jazz but... 

The last time she was home it was for a broken heart and Danny was beside himself with worry over her. He made the guys recently deceased ancestors come forward to speak on his behalf and it was Mortifying- Danny was ready to throw down. And Dani had to admit, it was super sweet that her big brother cared so much. He’d happily given a shovel talk to each of her partners when she brought them home and he’d happily tried to bond with them and integrate into their lives. Danny always allowed her to make mistakes but respected her choices to only ever ask two questions when a new partner came into the picture: Do they make you happy? Do they treat you well? 

This last time he made a simple request, just could they please fit this one criteria? 

The thought comes to her unfortunately when she’s making out with her perfect match, her soul mate, this beautifully stabby man Damian Wayne, that she should bring up the deal breaker. Her brother gave her literally one request for her next partner, and by the ancients she didn’t want to disappoint Danny. 

Pulling away from her boyfriends kiss for just a moment, Dani quickly asks “Sorry, Sorry, it’s just...Have you ever died before?” 

Damian’s look of confusion and then concern grew on his normally collected face, which told her more than enough. 

“Okay great!” And she leaned back in, only to realize that he’s pulled back. 

“Would... Would you care to explain why you just asked me that?” Damian was doing his best to not jump to conclusions.

“Sorry, I just got in my head a bit about how you’re like, the light of my life and I want you to meet my family and then my brain wandered, before you did that thing with your teeth, to the fact that my brother kind of requested... um, well, he just asked that my next partner be, uh, don’t freak out if this sounds weird, but uh, be dead.” 

“He...He wants your partner to be dead.” 

“Well, Dead adjacent is perfectly normal in my family! It’s not like a whole thing! You’ve died before, so he’ll absolutely love you! And he’ll love you even more because you love me!” She smiles as brilliantly as the stars.

Damian isn’t sure for a second, but eventually asks: “Your family is ‘dead adjacent’ and you want me to meet them?” to which she happily confirms. 

“Do you... Wish to know how I-” Damian begins but she cuts him off “No! Never, I would never ask that of you. He won’t ask either! He actually has a better vision for these things so it probably won’t even come up! How does next Tuesday work?” 

“That should be fine, however, well...On the subject of family expectations ... Is it even possible that you might be a vigilante?” Damian’s worries melt away when his girlfriend smiles and lunges forward to kiss him. 

Families could have such weird expectations, you know? 

[shadowsviper]

Thanos and Nam-Gyu as Cats Part 3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4

Here's part 3! Team Thanos as cats

I'm thinking of making one more part of this and then ending it. I don't really have anything else for more parts.

Someone did ask about the reader as the cat and having Thanos and Nam-gyu take care of them. I'll definitely make that happen! I'll make that a different series. I don't know how many parts it'll be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You spent the next month getting to know the two cats. You soon realized that they caused more trouble than anything else

First, you tried to get them to wear collars, which ended up with you trying to chase them down

Needless to say, they did not like the idea of collars. Knowing that you weren't going to win against them, you gave up trying

Buying them food was one of the hardest things. Sure, they usually ate whatever you gave them, but they had a preference for the expensive brands

Thanos preferred this one brand of food. It was probably the most expensive thing you've bought. He once refused to eat when you weren't able to buy it for a week

Thankfully, Nam-gyu wasn't as picky but he had a preference of specifically chicken. You blamed it on the fact that it was probably because of how you fed him when you first found them in the alleyway

Baths were the worst

You had to chase them down and fight them all the way to the bathroom. Not even food could bribe them

Thanos was convinced that you were trying to kill him. He would scream the whole time. He would claw your clothes, his eyes wide as he screamed at you, begging you to let him go

Nam-gyu wasn't any better. While he didn't scream as much as Thanos did, he still tried to scratch his way out

By the time you finished bathing them, the whole bathroom was flooded with water. Your clothes were also drenched

Other times, they were the best companions to have around. They did things that made you laugh, they always hung around you for attention

There was one time where you were watching Thanos play with his tail. He'd already spent the past 15 minutes trying to catch it, only for it to move out of the way at the last second

His last brain cell seemed to have vanished

You watched as he continued. You were surprised to see that he did end up catching his tail. He had an abnormally long tail, but that didn't stop him from contorting himself into the shape of a croissant

He ended up spinning around in circles, meowing in confusion

Nam-gyu watched from his box, his ears twitching as he judged Thanos

It's a wonder he survived as a stray

The biggest mistake you ever made was buying catnip for them

They had one sniff and they were addicted

They would meow around your legs, rubbing all over you, trying to convince you for more catnip. You tried so hard not to give in but they had the cutest eyes and the sweetest meows

They knew exactly how to manipulate you for catnip

You would only give them a small amount and tell them that was all they were getting

One day, while you were at work, they found the stash of catnip hidden in a drawer

"I don't know what this stuff is, but it's fucking crazy, man," Thanos said, tossing the bag of catnip onto the floor

"You're going to be the reason they put us back out on the streets," Nam-gyu sighed

When you returned, you found your two cats high as hell. Their pupils were completely blown and they were lazily sprawled out. The bag of catnip was completely ripped. You could see bits of catnip everywhere, the ground, the furniture, their fur

You sighed, rethinking your life choices

After that incident, you stopped buying catnip. You decided that you would only get it for special occasions

They weren't happy with your decision

Thanos started meowing by the door one day while staring at you. For the longest time, you couldn't figure out what he wanted until he tried to slip out the door when you left for work

"You're not coming with me," you said, pushing him back inside. Thanos meowed, protesting. After thinking for a second, you realized it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to let them outside, considering they used to be strays

"Fine, but you're both coming home before I do," you warned. The two cats meowed simultaneously as they walked out of your apartment and disappeared

While you worked, they had fun running around the streets again. You didn't mind having them outside of the apartment if it meant that they were happy

You found them both sitting by the door of the apartment when you returned. Thanos happily greeted you

Ever since then, you've been letting them out in the morning and letting them back in whenever they returned

You once again started to rethink your life when Thanos came in with a dead mouse. He meowed at you after dropping it off at your feet. He even dared to push it closer to you. You watched as he slowly blinked before walking away

"Why would you give them a dead mouse?" Nam-gyu asked, glancing at the rodent

"I'm showing my appreciation"

"That's not how humans work, Thanos"

One day, you opened the door for Thanos and Nam-gyu to come in. A new cat followed them in. You blinked. You only had two cats, who was this new one?

The tabby cat meowed at you as he walked in

Thanos meowed as well as if trying to convince you to keep the new friend they made

The new cat, Gyeong-su, made himself at home. He seemed pretty attached to Thanos and he was just as chatty

New cat acquired, I guess

Gyeong-su was a fan of everything. He was the least picky out of the three. He never complained when you gave him something or didn't give him attention

Nam-gyu wasn't a big fan but tolerated him since Thanos tolerated him

Thanos often forgot Gyeong-su existed

Having three cats around wasn't too bad, they were independent. It made your apartment seem more alive. You preferred this over anything else

You were just getting used to having three cats when you received a call from a friend. She explained that she was taking care of two cats but could no longer do so. She knew that you had cats of your own and asked if you would be able to look after them for a while

You agreed hesitantly. That's two more cats. Plus the three you have, that's five in total

You didn't really have time to think about it. Your friend dropped the two cats off at your place soon after the call.

You look inside the carrier to find the two cats huddled up in the back. You took the carrier into your room and closed the door. You opened the door and allowed them to move on their own

A pretty Russian blue cat stepped out, looking at her surroundings. She could tell that there were other cats around, but looking around the room, she couldn't find them

The other cat, a small munchkin cat, stepped out. He seemed more timid than the Russian blue. He looked at you before following after the other cat

You spent a few hours with them, getting them used to the new place. You dreaded the moment they had to meet your other cats

They were kept in your room for the next few days, occasionally let out when the former strays were gone

When you finally decided to let them meet, you sat between the door, acting as a barrier. Thanos was the most curious of them, he had already been sniffing around trying to get to them for days. He was the first to try and climb over you to meet them

You held him tightly, only allowing him to see the new cats. He immediately took a liking to them. You could tell Se-mi wasn't impressed based on her facial expression.

He seemed to like Min-su a lot. He struggled out of your grasp to reach him. Due to the size difference, Thanos had to lower himself to the ground to get a good sniff

Se-mi didn't like him, she tried to step in between him and Min-su whenever possible. She didn't try to do anything. It seemed like she would only attack if provoked

Nam-gyu was next. He immediately disliked Se-mi from the moment he caught her scent. As soon as he saw her, his ears went back

Se-mi's ears also went back.

Uh oh, they don't like each other

Nam-gyu hissed first, he was deeply upset with the new cat. He spared Min-su a glance and decided he also didn't like him

Sighing, you put Nam-gyu outside the room. You were going to keep an eye on them

Gyeong-su didn't seem to mind them. He stayed by your side most of the time as they all interacted with each other

You let them roam around the apartment after that. Thanos had taken a liking to Min-su, he would constantly be around him. Sometimes he forgot how much smaller Min-su was and accidentally knocked him over

If Se-mi was around and saw that, she would whack him into next week

Nam-gyu still didn't like them. He didn't seem to hate Min-su as much but he had something against Se-mi. If she got too close for his liking, he'll hiss. If she tried to do anything, he'll hiss

You tried to stop him but he wouldn't listen.

"Stop hissing at her, she didn't do anything to you," you said after hearing him hiss for the third time in one hour

"I don't understand why they had to bring her home," Nam-gyu complained to Thanos one day

"She's cool," Thanos said. "What's your issue with her?"

"Yeah," Se-mi agreed, appearing out of nowhere and scaring Nam-gyu. "What's your issue with me?"

"I just don't like you," Nam-gyu spat, his ears going backwards. He hissed at her again. "Fuck you, bitch"

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Keeping it real with Nam-gyu hating on Se-mi 😭 added in a couple references in this part lmao

Sorry for the wait, schools been kicking my ass. I hope you guys liked this part! I think part 4 might be the last one, unless I come up with more ideas in the future.

Taglist: @ilikedrinkingsoda

[hd-erised]

Thank you so very much to all our amazing writers, artists, pinch-hitters, readers, commenters, and reccers who once again made this fest such an amazing success!

If you haven't had time to make it through all the fantastic works here yet, we hope that you'll still read and leave some love for our writers and artists! Comments are appreciated all year round! ;) As are commenters—like you amazing readers and participants, including the phenomenal 440 people who have left an incredible total of 1898 comments on H/D Erised works this year—thank you for all you do to make this community what it is!! And a special shout-out, again, to our ever-expanding list of all-star commenters, who have commented on more than half (and sometimes way more!!) of this year’s works: blueheart_V, @sorrybutblog, khalulu, @nv-md, @hoko-onchi-writes, and veradubhghoill!! Thank you!!!

We'll be going through the works today, revealing the authors on AO3, removing the mod account as a co-author, and adding the creator names to the tumblr headers. We'll be sending the participants a wrap-up email when we've finished with all the final admin things on our end.  

Thanks again for making this another brilliant round of Erised! We hope to see you all again next year! <3 @epitomereally @honeybeet @nv-md

Art:

@elizah321 drew Brewed Awakenings for @jessixaluci [T]

@bicholsdrarrysideblog drew The Case of the Mysterious Baker for @sorrybutblog [G]

@discessio drew Ceilings. for @karamelised [M]

@threading-fate drew Us, again? for @nv-md [M]

@frm9pm drew Unemployed and On Guard for @makeitp1nk [T]

@legendrarry drew No One but Me for justlikewriting [M]

@faiell drew Stolen Glances for @dodgerkedavra [T]

@sharperthan drew Hauntingly Familiar for @moonflower-rose [T]

Fic + Art:

@fantalfart wrote & drew A Dragon to Call Mine for @annanother-thing [E, ~24,000]

Fic:

@agentmoppet wrote Where Starlight Falls for @citrusses [E, ~33,700]

The magic concealing Sirius’s Last Will and Testament doesn’t reveal the full extent of Harry’s inheritance until two years after the war. When it does, it turns out that Harry has inherited more than just the Black Family vault—he’s inherited the family’s magic, too. He just has to find it first. And he needs Draco Malfoy’s help to do it.

@sorrybutblog wrote Runaway Train for @lqtraintracks [E, ~18,100]

Harry was already keen to figure out what’s been causing a series of disturbances in the London Underground before Draco Malfoy showed up acting suspicious. Two explosions, several very confused Muggles, and a cloud of mysterious sticky powder later, Harry and Malfoy can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Can Harry shag his way to the answer to all of his questions? Seems unlikely, but what can a man do but try?

veradubhghoill wrote At Night All Birds Are Black for IzRoan [E, ~51,800]

Harry loves being an Auror—the long hours, adrenaline-fuelled chases, and even the paperwork. But when a haunting leads to his suspension, he’s forced to continue his investigation in secret. As he unravels the murder of a young girl, he turns to the one person he never expected he’d need: Draco Malfoy.

@oknowkiss wrote The Melting Point of Wax for @vukovich [M, ~10,500]

Harry Potter is many things: captain of the Chudley Cannons, the fun uncle, a good enough friend, comfortable in the life he’s built for himself. Comfortable, that is, until a risque broom advertisement and a rumor about a fellow athlete come together to send him spiralling into the world of high-stakes broom racing, high-flying turtles, and the chaos of falling in love.

justlikewriting wrote Body and Soul for @a-sentimental-man [M, ~22,200]

When the headaches became worse and it got more and more difficult for Draco to work, he was left with no other choice but to recognise his stupid problem exactly for what it was. Even if that meant realising that the best, or perhaps even only, solution could solely come from one person: the one person he hadn’t seen for months, the one person he was still in love with. The one person who should never know. Because, clearly, Harry would never be able to give Draco what he needed anyway.

@citrusses wrote The Pain From an Old Wound for @sharperthan [T, ~31,100]

Getting hit with a mysterious blood curse is all in a day’s work for Harry Potter. Having to work with his former colleague, rival, bully, and boyfriend, is not. Harry’s not sure which is going to do him in first: the curse sucking his magic dry, or Draco Malfoy, as frustrating, condescending, and painfully attractive as he’s always been.

@lqtraintracks wrote The Most Splendid Thing for @sleepstxtic [E, ~61,200]

Star Quidditch rivals Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter become accidentally bonded. They still hate each other, but now it’s untenable to leave each other’s sides—and my, but it feels oh so good to touch. They’re either going to murder one another, or fall in love. OR: A story in which Draco finally allows himself happiness, and Harry finally learns that he deserves to be whole.

xErised wrote Borealis Green for @faiell [E, ~47,200]

Draco left Harry on the night of their first kiss, when they were eighteen. Ten years later, Harry, now Deputy Lead of the Norwegian Aurors, barges back into Draco’s life at the Ministry, seeking his help—both personal and professional—for a case, to re-capture Rodolphus Lestrange and Augustus Rookwood. Turns out that Draco couldn’t really get over Harry, either.

IzRoan wrote Don’t Fear the Reaper for @thehoneybeet [E, ~36,900]

Harry anticipates it’s Luna or maybe Hermione at Grimmauld Place, here to rouse him out of purgatorial listlessness once again. Instead, Harry finds an opinionated crow, a scroll with his name on it, and one exhaustingly persistent Draco Malfoy, who insists that Harry is his latest soul to Reap. The only problem is…Harry’s still alive. Or so he thought.  Quote: Learning how to live takes a whole life, and, which may surprise you more, it takes a whole life to learn how to die. - Seneca

@tessacrowley wrote Sub rosa for @hoko-onchi-writes [E, ~37,100]

After the tragic and unexpected death of his mother, Draco Malfoy’s quiet life as Potions Master, Head of Slytherin, and Hogwarts professor gets upended—first by the manifestation of mysterious and inexplicable magic, and then by the revelation of an inheritance deliberately hidden from him his entire life.

@thecouchsofa wrote Bare Moon Rising for xErised [E, ~15,500]

Potter moved towards him, sticking his hand out. “If that’s the case, we’re both doing it. You do the nude Tornados calendar, and I’ll do the Auror one. Most sales wins.”  Oh no.  “Are you backing out already?” Potter leaned in closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Finally admitting that mine’s bigger than yours, then? Or do you want to cop a feel first?”  Charities could bugger off. Nothing good ever came of them, really.

@jessixaluci wrote Fighting the Chill for @bicholsdrarrysideblog [M, ~25,400]

What should have been an average and dull day for Draco Malfoy, turned rather south when he’s attacked in the middle of Diagon Alley.

@garagepaperback wrote palindrome for @threading-fate [E, ~25,800]

“Why did you let me kiss you?” Potter smirks.  “That’s not how I remember it. Why did you let me kiss you?”  “I’m stuck in a time loop. You’re not going to remember, so,” Draco’s tongue drags, calcified around the words. “Why not.”  Potter’s brows furrow but the smile stays intact. “That’s the best you could come up with?”

@amomorii wrote A Soft Place to Fall for @epitomereally [E, ~142,500]

When Harry arrives for his first year teaching at Hogwarts and is struck with a bizarre malignance, how on earth is he supposed to react when Draco Malfoy suddenly cares?

@starquestingfordrarry wrote All These Winding Threads for @amomorii [E, ~35,400]

The tides of Draco’s accidental magic pull him under and leave him gasping. There’s a hungry ache that sits deep in his bones, growing worse every day. Soon it’s all he’ll be, a starving skeleton clawing at its throat.  He needs a solution. Unfortunately, that solution looks an awful lot like Harry Potter. 

@annanother-thing wrote Second Chance Resort for @elizah321[E, ~42,800]

A holiday forced on him by his friends after the latest in a long string of failed relationships might be a chance for Harry to relax, but all that is thrown up in the air by the appearance of one newly divorced Draco Malfoy. Mainly because they had been together almost fifteen years ago before Draco broke it off to marry the woman his mother chose for him… Feat. a matchmaking hotel, a spa day, an all-knowing Weasley, and friends who do try their best, but can get a little distracted.

@jtimu wrote Seven-and-sixpence for @oknowkiss [E, ~35,700]

The entire plan of Harry’s life had been defeat evil, become an Auror, marry Ginny. Not necessarily in that order, but it seemed to be going that way, the first two managed and the third in easy limbo. He can be better, though. He can be more. Draco will see to it.

khalulu wrote Slip Slidin’ Your Way (In a Land of Fire and Ice) for @frm9pm [T, ~9,800]

How does a war-scarred young wizard recuperate and create a new identity? Harry opens himself to the magic of the land. Draco learns to wonder at the humblest of creatures. Years later, Magigeologist Evan Jameson and Malacologist Derek Black begin an enthusiastic correspondence. They’re in for a shock when they finally meet. Or: Science nerds go to Iceland and fall in love. Or: Why should kelp have all the fun?

@epitomereally wrote Pillar of Salt for @agentmoppet [E, ~62,200]

From the lake in the Room of Hidden Things, Draco knows three things: 1. Mirror universes exist, and he’s going to find the best one—the one where he did the right thing. 2. Harry Potter and him are awfully cosy in some of these other universes, whereas Potter in real life is starting to act very odd around him indeed. 3. Draco’s reflection—the mirror version of him, the worst version of him—seems to be growing crueler. And stronger.

@a-sentimental-man wrote Prescription for @fantalfart [G, ~2,600]

Draco couldn’t say he hated his job, not really. In fact, he loved it⁠—and wasn’t that something surprising, a Malfoy being a Healer, when most of them hadn’t worked a day in their lives?—and most of all, he loved knowing that he was helping people heal, above anything else. (And if there was a part of him that craved the normalcy of something that helped instead of what he had been taught to do his entire life? Well. That was between himself and his journal when he remembered to write in it.) (And maybe there was another reason too.)

@traylalascrisis wrote Old love don’t rust for @drarrydoodles [E, ~20,600]

“Why do you keep coming?” Malfoy asked at last. Harry mulled over the question. For a moment he debated trying to turn the tables and asking Malfoy the very same thing. But this time he didn’t want to hold back. “Because I can’t stop,” Harry said.

@karamelised wrote Equipoise for khalulu [T, ~88,200]

Ten years of peace have settled over the wizarding world, leaving Harry Potter feeling strangely adrift. Teaching Defense at Hogwarts is fine and all, but when mysterious magical blackouts start sweeping across the country, he can’t help but jump at the chance to investigate. It would be the perfect outlet for his restless energy - if he didn’t suddenly find himself tangled up in an elaborate charade, pretending to date the Prophet’s most illustrious journalist, Draco Malfoy. Between hunting down the cause of the blackouts and maintaining their ruse, Harry’s beginning to think that peacetime might actually be trickier - and far more surprising - than he’d bargained for.

@vukovich wrote Victory Lap for @traylalascrisis [E, ~4,700]

“I wasn’t sure if you’d want to eat first.” For emphasis, he pinches the skin at my waist. I want to cover myself in him. I want to roll in him like a dog. I want to devolve on top of him. And he wants me to sit nicely and use a knife and fork first?

@maraudersaffair wrote My Mate for veradubhghoill [E, ~26,300]

Harry is a new Alpha and Draco is his Omega Healer. Draco wants to help Harry but Draco struggles to control himself whenever he is around. And Harry wants to breed Draco. Desperately so. Things come to a head when Draco and Harry become trapped with one another. Draco doesn’t have his suppressant and it sends them both into heat. While they wait for help, will Draco be able to avoid being claimed by Harry? Does he even want to avoid it? Harry is gorgeous and strong, and Draco would love to have him as a mate. He just can’t fathom a world where Harry Potter willingly chooses him.

@smehur wrote Just a little liquid luck for @shiftylinguini [E, ~5,400]

Tracking the movement of Potter’s eyes, Draco runs a greasy finger over the thickest of his scars. “You like them, don’t you? Pervert.” Potter tosses his head back, jostling the mass of his curly fringe from his forehead. “I bet you were into scars long before you had any of your own, Malfoy.” Yes, Draco wants to say. I want to lick yours. What he says instead is, “Fuck you.” “Fuck you,” Potter echoes, putting the same pregnant emphasis on the F. Draco bites his lower lip, wrestling down the rise of euphoria. “Your turn,” he says. “Take that off.”

@sleepstxtic wrote As Luck Would Have It for @smehur [E, ~12,800]

In Sixth-Year, Harry and Draco both win a vial of Felix Felicis from Slughorn and, under its influence, have sex in the Room of Requirement. In the aftermath, can Draco and Harry navigate their respective roles in the war, while grappling with their burgeoning feelings for each other?

@hoko-onchi-writes wrote In a Year’s Turning for @maraudersaffair [E, ~89,400]

It’s been nine years. Surely, Harry can handle Draco being back—for Teddy’s sake.

@shiftylinguini wrote Storm’s Eye for @jtimu [M, ~12,400]

Harry’s surprised that Draco didn’t have wards up preventing mortally wounded former school mates-turned-ghosted work fellows from bursting into his house. In Harry’s addled mind, this seems like a great opening line to say to Draco’s gobsmacked face. He doesn’t get that far, though.

Or: Harry gets hurt, Draco is a vanishing alchemist who may or may not be able to save the day, but under no circumstances are either of them willing to talk about Their Feelings. Well. Maybe "mortal peril" circumstances will do it, actually.

@thehoneybeet wrote housewarming for @garagepaperback [E, ~6,000]

First, they had to decide where to live. It worked, until it didn’t.

@dodgerkedavra wrote Go Up to Gilead for @tessacrowley [E, ~106,700]

Harry Potter’s sense of purpose drops dead with Voldemort. So does Draco Malfoy’s freedom. Nine years later, Harry’s still a soldier. Draco’s still a sacrifice. Harry’s going to die in his Auror uniform, and Draco doesn’t deserve to live. But when the clock runs out on Draco’s sentence, a new one starts ticking. As it was, so it will be: they’ll survive together, or not at all.

@makeitp1nk wrote do you (one) better for @legendrarry [M, ~4,200]

Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor Harry Potter abruptly loses his Favourite Hogwarts Professor title to none other than Potions Professor Draco Malfoy. He swears it’s fine, really, but the feelings boiling within him say otherwise. Until Poppy Longbottom, Pansy and Neville’s hellion daughter, forces Hogwarts faculty and staff to engage in a very controversial Pureblood family tradition.

@doingthechachaslide wrote Of Stolen Glass and Burning Clover for @saintgarbanzo [E, ~27,800]

A week long international conference. A political scandal? A Malfoy beside the fruit tarts.

@saintgarbanzo wrote Baker’s Modern Wands for @starquestingfordrarry [E, ~43,600]

At Baker’s Modern Wands Lavender Brown is starting a revolution, Draco Malfoy is trying his best, and Harry Potter is really annoyed about it all.

@nv-md wrote Kiss Me, Fuck Me, Love Me for @doingthechachaslide [E, ~5,100]

Harry and Draco are running very late—they’ve got shirts to find, puppies to save, and champagne to buy. They’re also terribly, ridiculously, extraordinarily in love.

@moonflower-rose wrote Equally Cursed and Blessed for @thecouchsofa [E, ~18,200]

Harry’s back at Hogwarts to attempt his final year, again. This time he’s sure there’ll be no shenanigans. Well. Maybe there’ll be a few.

[burningembers91]

The Difference Between Men and Boys - Kim Do-Hyun x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Follow up piece to:

The Choices We Make The Beauty and her Beast

Synopsis: Kim Do-Hyun tries his best to stay away from you. But a chance meeting at a bar leads to a night neither one of you will forget

The bar reeked of stale alcohol and sweat; the floor covered in a permanent sticky residue from the countless drinks that had been dropped on the cheap tile. Kim Do-Hyun was drunk, for the first time in years. He’d always been able to handle his liquor, had always known when to stop. The biggest part of his job was staying in control, and alcohol hindered his ability to maintain focus. He’d always known when enough was enough, but lately he didn’t seem to care.

He hadn’t seen you since that night at the bar. He’d left for his next mission the day after, trying to block you entirely from his mind. But as hard as he tried, he couldn’t let you go. He’d brought with him the jacket that you’d worn as he walked you home, the faintest traces of your vanilla perfume still lingering. If he closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, he could picture you so clearly. His men could tell something was off; their boss was still as sharp and ruthless as ever, but there was sadness behind his eyes. They knew better than to bring it up with him though; Kim Do-Hyun wasn’t a man who shared personal information, not even with his closest comrades.

He'd been back in Seoul for 6 weeks now, forcing himself to avoid your restaurant. Not seeing you was causing him physical pain, one that made his chest ache and his eyes burn. He’d barely been home since he arrived back, flitting from woman to woman, spending a few days with each of the girls he met on dating apps. He knew what he was doing, trying a fill a void that simply couldn’t be filled. These women weren’t you. Their laugh didn’t light up a room, their eyes weren’t brighter than all of the stars in the sky. Their very essence didn’t make him want to sink to his knees; not like you did. It was killing him being away from you, but you were better off without him.

He’d lost count of the number of drinks he’d had, his night a blur of beer and shots. The woman he was with had a shrill, piercing laugh, her acrylic nails digging into the bare flesh of his arm, like she was scared he’d try and run away if she let go. He wanted to run, wanted to run to you, but he couldn’t allow himself to damage you that way. You were too innocent, too pure and good for a monster like him. He was a murderer and a thief, looting and killing for his own gain, as well as the gain of powerful, corrupt men. He didn’t deserve you; he deserved to be in the dank, damp bar with a woman who he couldn’t stand, while he slowly drank himself into the abyss.

He didn’t notice you a few tables away, your face illuminated by the pink and purple neon lights above the bar. You were sitting on your own, nursing a drink as you wiped away the last of your tears. It had been weeks since you’d seen Do-Hyun. He completely vanished after he had saved you, and you couldn’t help but think you’d done something wrong. You missed him, missed his presence, however infrequent it had been. This was the longest you’d gone without seeing him, and it was tearing you in two. You’d decided to give the dating apps a try in a desperate bid to get him out of your head. You’d matched with someone who seemed nice enough online, but in person left far too much to be desired. Your date had been a chauvinistic pig, spending the whole evening talking about himself and his many achievements, though you doubted most of the stories were true. You’d only had two drinks before he invited you back to his, and when you politely declined, he told you in no uncertain terms how unattractive he’d found you and that he was only asking you back because he felt sorry for you.

You couldn’t bring yourself to go back to your apartment, to the crushing silence that would inevitably envelope you. You knew you’d think of Do-Hyun, and you knew you’d break your own heart all over again. You weren’t even sure why you were so hung up on him. Your relationship had always been purely platonic, and yet you felt almost drawn to him. You sipped your lukewarm wine, playing the events of that night in your head again and again. Maybe he’d realised you were too weak, just a pathetic girl who couldn’t fend off a few rowdy drunks. He seemed like he’d be drawn to a mature, confident woman, not a girl who daydreamed about trekking mountains.

You looked up, and that’s when you saw him, hunched over the bar with a beer in his hand. A woman clung to him; her crimson red nails clutched around his bicep. Your eyes met at the same time, the world seemingly ceasing to turn.

Do-Hyun could tell you’d been crying. Your lips were puffy, and your eyes were bright with tears, your foundation streaked. He could barely hear the nasally screech of the woman next to him, so entranced by you. You couldn’t take your eyes off each other; every sight, sound and smell that wasn’t you completely gone from his mind.

“Go home,” he told the woman next to him, pushing his stool back. “What?” She laughed, her face falling as he pried his arm from her taloned grasp. “I said go home,” Do-Hyun snarled. “We’re done here.” He knew he was being a prick, but you were the only one who mattered anymore. You’d been crying, and he was going to find out who’d made you cry. And once he had, he’d make that person wish they’d never been born.

“You’re back,” you said, your voice hoarse with tears as he approached you. “I’m back,” he replied, sliding into the booth next to you. Your black velvet dress was impossibly short, the fabric riding high up your thighs. You looked good tonight, and Do-Hyun knew he was fighting a losing battle with his conscience. “Who made you cry?” he growled, his hand cupping your chin as he surveyed your tear-streaked face. You were still so beautiful, your fragility making you seem even more so in the pale neon lights of the bar. “Some asshole,” you mumbled, “it’s fine.” “It’s not fine,” he spat, “What did he do to you? Did he hurt you?” Do-Hyun could feel himself losing control, could feel his anger rising to the surface. He was usually so level-headed, but when it came to you, he seemed to lose all sense. “No,” you shook your head, “not like that anyway. He was just rude, and… he said some things… but it doesn’t matter, honestly.” “Tell me what he said.” Do-Hyun’s hand still cupped your chin, his sharp gaze piercing into you, like he was staring directly into your soul. His domineering presence was turning you on, igniting that fire in your belly as he commanded your attention. You couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away from the man who made everything else in the world seem so insignificant. “He asked me to go home with him, and when I said no, he told me I was ugly anyway, and that he was only doing it because he felt bad for me.”

Do-Hyun’s hand tightened around your chin, making you gasp. His thumb traced the outline of your lip, eliciting the softest, sweetest moan he’d ever heard. He’d regret this tomorrow, but tonight he needed to act on his desires. He needed to show you that man had been wrong; he needed to show you how badly he wanted you. “That’s because he was nothing but a boy. Do you know the difference between boys and men?” His finger traced your top lip now, your body trembling at his touch as you shook your head in answer to his question. Your eyes never left each other’s, the tension between you almost suffocating. You weren’t entirely sure you were breathing as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Boys don’t know how to treat a woman. But men do. It’s what we live for.” His lips brushed your earlobe, sending a shockwave of heat from your head to your soft, aching core. “Show me,” you whispered, your hands trembling you brought them up to rest on the back of his neck. “Show me how you’d treat me.”

Do-Hyun kissed you, hard. Months’ worth of pent-up frustration passed between you, your hands roaming each other’s bodies as his tongue met yours. His fingers traced a line up your thighs, teasing you through the thin fabric of your underwear. “Take me home,” you breathed, your breath hitching as he hooked a finger behind your lacy garment, sliding it deep inside you. His mouth swallowed your moan, and you wondered if anyone could see, or whether the table blocked the view.

You were so wet, so tight, and Do-Hyun knew you’d likely get caught, but his need for you far outweighed his common sense. He wanted you in his bed, your legs spread for him while he showed you just how much you meant to him. “Come with me,” he smiled, removing his finger from your tight core and placing it gently to your lips. You parted them for him, moaning as he slid the digit into your mouth. He’d always thought you were so innocent, but you were anything but.

 The taxi journey back to his was hazy, the two of you so lost in each other. He carried you up the stairs to his apartment, stopping every few steps to pepper kisses down your jaw and neck. No one had ever treated you like this, had made your whole body burn with pleasure. You could sense his desperation for you, could feel it in the way he kissed you. Tonight, someone had made you feel so ugly, but right now Do-Hyun was making you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

He sat you down on his bed, peeling your dress away from your body. Your curves were exquisite, the outline of your breasts and hips against his sheets driving him crazy. How your date had turned you down earlier was beyond him. But it was his loss, and Do-Hyun was going to show how much better off you’d be with him.

He kissed every inch of your body, starting from your forehead, down to your toes. Your skin was alight, every atom of your being tingling from his touch. He worked his way back up the delicate skin of your calves and inner thighs, before sliding your underwear down. You were soaking for him, your wetness dripping onto his sheets as his tongue traced through your slick folds. The sound you made as you cried out was fucking heavenly, and Do-Hyun moved his tongue against you in confident, assured strokes. “So fucking wet,” he whispered, his fingers sliding into you as you arched your hips. “Be a good girl and let go for me. I want to feel you come undone on my fingers.”

His authoritative tone was unlike anything you’d heard before. He could somehow boss you around and yet make you feel so special at the same time. “Don’t hold back,” he growled, his thumb pressing into the sensitive nub of your clit as he coaxed you towards the blissful edge. “I know you’re a dirty girl. Show me how dirty you are.” The sound as you came for him was guttural, your body wracked with blissful sobs as your soft walls contracted around his thick digits.

“Such a good girl,” he whispered, stroking your cheek softly as you came down from the edge of ecstasy. “So good for me.” Your body shook for him, your hands pulling his face to yours. Your desire for him overwhelmed you, driving you to the brink of insanity. “Fuck me,” you pleaded, so desperate to feel him inside of you. “Please. I need you.”

He surveyed you, shaking on his sheets as your wetness leaked down your thighs. He’d never felt like this with any of the random women he’d brought back before, had never been so enamoured with a person before. He couldn’t deny you anything, not when he wanted it so badly as well. “Think you can take it?” he teased, his cock aching as he watched you nod vigorously. He removed his underwear, lining up against you as he pushed himself inside of you.

The feel of him stretching you out was perfection, the feel of his hips thrusting into you bringing you to the brink again almost instantly. He filled you so perfectly, the tip of his cock hitting a spot deep within you that no one had ever reached before.

Your whimpers were his undoing, the sweet sounds punctured by each thrust of his hips. His body shuddered as he painted your tight walls with his seed, your fingers gripping his hair as he made sure you took every last drop of him.

He held you that night, whispering sweet nothings into your ear. He told you how he always went back to the same restaurant because of you, how he thought of you on his long trips away. He told you he wanted to make you happy, to show you how a real man behaved.

As the effects of the alcohol began to wear off, and the harsh light of day broke over the horizon, Do-Hyun knew he was in too deep. But even as he sobered up, he realised he didn’t care. You were everything he wanted, the only thing that mattered to him in this cursed life. it was selfish of him to want you when his life didn’t allow for normal relationships. But he could no longer deny himself, not when he’d had a taste of you. he really was a monster, enchanting an innocent girl, knowing full well he didn’t deserve her.

But Do-Hyun was hooked on you, and nothing would ever be able to tear him away.

[tricksh0t]

★ gladiator; the larger man

☾ daario naharis x top m reader

𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘬𝘴𝘩0𝘵 ⛥ daario is so hot istg i wonder how he's doing in meereen

𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘴 ⛥ 2.17 words

cw: dom top male reader, sub bot daario, big size diff and size kink, fight scene w/ violence, blood, slight overstim, mention of slavery (it's game of thrones, it's vague and it's very slight), swearing

The smaller man, or the larger man?

Daario Naharis made his life in the arena, playing dirty as much as playing clean, kicking up sand as much as aiming his dagger correctly.

In his journey up to the position he holds now, he has slain hundreds of different types of men. From men just like him, nimble and infuriating, to men twice his weight, his favorite opponents: brutes.

Brutes are slow. They may be strong, but they don't get to use that strength if they miss. Brutes are bigger targets, even, and Daario himself is not one for missing.

When the time to throw away his endless fortune comes, he always bets for the smaller man.

Daario spies the five gladiators in front of him, making guesses to hand off to the man he secretly has bet for him. They each have their own strengths, their own unique weapons, and Daario considers them all, even though he prefers the sword himself.

The man's preference in weapons doesn't matter. If he is proficient, it will work.

What does matter, is the man's build.

His eyes zone in on a man on the smaller end, but not the smallest. He's using a spear. Good, he'll be able to keep his distance and use his size difference.

Once he makes his choice, and tells his "broker", he claps his hands and the match begins.

It's all out brawl, every man for himself. Alliances form when two men target the same opponent, but they quickly break as opportunities to nick at each other arrive.

There is no loyalty in the pit. There are only chances, reflexes and instinct; brutality, bloodshed and survival. Only one man would survive this round, and he would be granted word with the King. The gold he rakes in in bets won't even be his. It'll go to his patron, but if he is lucky, there will be lavish compensation. A whore for the night, perhaps.

Whatever it is that drives these men, whether it be the light at the end of the tunnel or the sand beneath their feet or the pleasure of taking another life, it makes for a grand show.

The man with the direflail falls first. He wasn't the biggest or smallest, just somewhere in the middle. Daario's favored spearman had taken advantage of a particularly heavy swing that has one of the balls falling to the floor to plunge his spear right into the other's heart.

Daario whistles his approval, and his glee only brightens as the spearman continues onto his next opponent.

This one wields a sword. He's the smaller of the two of them, both are still relatively smaller, leaving this isolated battle to be a long one. Each man will dodge the other's strike, or parry, or block, and so on.

At least, that's what Daario expects. The spearman kicks up sand with the butt of his spear, causing specks to fly into his opponent's eyes and blind him temporarily. In a last ditch attempt to defend himself, the swordsman flails his blade wildly, to no avail. The spearman knocks the weapon out of the other's hand with a harsh swing, then plunges his spear into his chest.

If he survives this, Daario's sure the man will earn the title of the Spearman who aims for the Heart, or something of the sort.

Now the smallest man on the field, the spearman locks eyes with the opponent farthest from him, a club-wielder, who is currently fighting the large brute Daario had immediately dismissed.

Their battle had been isolated for the majority of the show, yet nothing had come of it except a couple stinging, but non-fatal bludgeons. Nothing exciting.

That was about to change, however, as the smaller man and the club-wielder quickly form an alliance.

Taking advantage of the fact the larger man wasn't facing him, the smaller man charges forward, spear first, aiming to kill him from behind.

"Oh, son of a bitch!" Daario exclaims, clenching his fists.

The larger man quickly spins around, splintering the smaller man's spear in two with one swing, then decapitating him with another.

His final opponent tries to do the same as the now dead spearman, once again take advantage of the large man having his back turned and having to recover from a swift double swing, only to meet the very same end.

And that's game.

Seemingly unaffected by the blood sprayed over your armor and hair, you, the large man, take your stand in front of the King's seating.

As you approach him, Daario takes note of how ruggedly handsome you are up close. He takes your name first, then sizes you up. "You know, I usually bet for the smaller man."

"Sounds like you still did." The gladiator replies, referring to Daario's emotional groan that was a tad bit too loud to be fit for a king from earlier.

The corner of Daario's lips lifts up with a slight smirk, "Are you talking back to your King, ser?"

"Does the King think so?"

You amuse him.

First you were a surprise winner, then a comedian, unafraid of speaking to the King or referring to him without respect.

Daario's eyes trail over your figure again, taking in the delectable sight of you. There's something about the rugged way the blood splattered over you makes your hair stick to your skin and decorates the rest of your armor and muscles, as well as the defined way the rest of your body is covered in sweat, that makes him think you handsome in an animalistic manner.

He takes in your build, imagines himself next to you. You're likely almost double his size.

Blood flows through Daario's body, desire.

He gestures towards one of his men to come take his word. As he whispers his commands, he keeps his gaze set on you, and even down there, you can see the growing lust in his eyes. "Buy him from his owner, however much he costs. If he is not a slave, escort him to my throne room. Don't bother to clean him up beforehand."

If Daario said he wasn't expecting this, he'd be lying.

In fact, it could very well become a fact to flaunt. To have the up and coming champion of the pit in his bed is one thing to brag about. To have control over him, his strength and his beastly desires is another; but the latter is a work in progress.

That is so because at this very moment, Daario has absolutely no control.

He's hugging his knees up to his chest, not because he wants you to have better access to his hole, but because you force him so.

You're pressed up against him, sweaty chest heaving against his legs as you fuck him.

It's no love affair, but Daario tucks a lock of hair stuck together due to dried blood behind your ear. He's trying to keep his eyes open just to look at you, though it is a hard fight.

There's something about the way you—no, it is how animalistic you look, fucking up into him while your body is covered with fighting sweat as well as fucking sweat and the blood of your parted enemies. It is about how your body is only littered with practically cat scratches, a sign of how easy that battle was for you. It is about how large you are in comparison to him, how your hand can almost wrap around his thigh and most definitely can wrap around his throat.

And it is absolutely about how big your cock is.

You're churning up his insides with the pace you set, and the strength of it too. Makes him feel like he's on fire. The bed creaks with each movement like it threatens to break, and it is a royal bed, made unnecessarily out of the strongest woods.

Suddenly, you lift his leg and try to hook it behind his own shoulder. Daario moan-yelps at that. He grabs your shoulder and pushes you back weakly, only a couple centimeters.

"I'm not that flexible." He says, teeth gritted.

You grunt, but you're no brute that only communicates through grunts. "You should train."

Daario laughs. One, because it sounds like you're suggesting he do so for a later time, and two, because you make it sound so simple. "I'm not usually the one taking it."

"No? But you're such a small man."

He almost sounds delirious as he laughs again, breath leaving him shakily with relief as you put his leg down. "Yes, but–"

In another instant, you're behind him, almost disproving that the smaller man is the quicker one, but that is not what he dwells on. Instead, you're already lifting his knee up for him and entering him.

Daario moans, eyes snapping shut as you stretch him out all over again. "How the fuck are you so big?"

You're pressed up against him once more, but to a much more vulnerable part, his back. With each thrust, your pelvis meets his ass fully, no more need to prop his hips up with a pillow or sheer will.

"Is that your concern right now?"

"No," Daario's practically losing control of his body. The leg you're holding spasms, toes clenching and all, but you keep it right in place with your large hand. "Err, yes, because it's fucking good."

"Thought you meant my body." Your other arm sneaks below his neck, and Daario leans against it almost endearingly.

"I did, well, both." He's breathless. It's amusing.

From the door, to which your back's facing, nobody would be able to see Daario past the knee you're holding up in the air. It would be embarrassing, if anything recognizable about Daario could be seen past your figure, which is a no.

Your body completely engulfs any sight of him, any at all. That's how much bigger you are.

And Daario loves it.

Being the smaller man has always been about advantage, about being quicker, more nimble. Right now, the advantage is joyfully being at your mercy.

The blood is cold now, completely dry, but it's still rubbing off on his body, he's sure.

He opens his eyes, glancing down at his knee and your bloodied hand. When all's said and done, he's going to have bloody hand marks on his hips and his knees, marks of you.

His hand reaches out to intertwine with your free hand, just to prove how much bigger your hand is. It'll be clear to all that the hand marks on his body do not come from his hands.

Daario whimpers at the thought. Whimpers.

"Softening, my King?" In the voice of anyone else, Daario would feel smug at being called that. In yours, however, he knows it's teasing.

"Fuck off."

"Hold your leg up."

Despite his earlier words, Daario obeys quite easily, without a fight. He holds his leg up by the knee, how you did it, like you asked.

"Such an obedient king."

"Fuck."

Then your hand wraps around his dick and, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

He's whimpering again, only this time constantly. He's not got enough mind nor break to even think about being sheepish about it.

There's only your hand sliding up and down his dick and your cock fucking in and out of him with a fervor.

"I'm gonna–" Daario whimpers, mouth slamming shut as his hips chase release.

"Go on." You whisper into his ear. Oh, that voice of yours. Whispering now? He's more used to a voice such as yours shouting battle cries, not this calm, teasing, sultry, fucking arousing trifle that only makes the head of his dick weep.

"Seven hells!" Daario cries out as he finishes.

But you don't stop, not there. You're fucking a king, but you're still selfish.

Daario whimpers again, arm growing tired. You abandon his dick to hold his leg up by the knee, hand over his, holding it up and up and up. He cries out with pain as you push his flexibility, at the strength of your hold on his leg and his hand.

Your cock thoroughly abuses his hole, stretching it to its limit, the widest he's ever taken; the toughest, too, maybe. Hard and fast and relentless, even after he's already cum. Worse so, actually, as the overwhelming pleasure pricks tiny tears into the corners of his eyes.

You don't care for him.

Despite that, there's some kind of pleasure in it, in not being a king anymore, in being yours to use.

When you finish, you don't care for the fact it's inside of him.

Daario shudders as you finally let his leg fall. He thinks you're going to be impersonal, until your hand settles on his stomach and tugs his body impossibly closer.

"Was that good?" Comes your whisper into his ear, awfully caring.

He rolls his eyes. You must know it was good for him, after all the sounds you'd dragged up from his throat. "Fuck you."

You chuckle, thumb circling over his sternum, yet don't reply.

Daario sighs contently as he settles back, into you. He could get used to this. The idea of having you as a new permanent lover flashes in his mind. They never really last long, lovers.

Perhaps you will.

[watermelonlovershigh]

another sickfic/period prompt.. living together as friends/housemates and H finds her on the floor in the night feeling really sick from her period and sits with her + helps her out 🥲 changes her sheets for her, rubs her back and just holds her on the floor with a blanket round them. she's absolutely mortified with no choice but to be accepting of his help and all he wants to do is make her feel a little better :(

Period Cramps Are No Fun {part 1.} (housemate!harry series)

AN: thank you for this request. it's not exactly as the request said but i hope it's close enough. and i normally don't write harry as anything other than y/n's lover but made an exception with this story. please share your feedback with me and let me know how you liked it. enjoy. xoxoxoxo

This story contains: small period leak, severe period cramping, puking due to period cramps, crying due to pain and embarrassment, mentions of sex toys, comfort, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friend!harry - softrry - any harry era - au!harry }

word count- 1,956

You wake up in the middle of the night with severe period cramps and when your housemate and friend Harry happens to wake up for a glass of water, he sees you on the bathroom floor crying and has no choice but to be by your side and comfort you.

You were looking to be someones flatmate or housemate. You'd put offer after offer online and one day a guy named Harry accepted your offer. He had a pretty nice townhouse in London and from his brief description of himself, seemed to be an alright guy. You didn't want to move in with some lazy scumbag and you'd come to find Harry is the opposite of that.

He's probably the cleanest guy you've ever met. He enjoys keeping things organized and loves to keep the house smelling fresh with candles on every shelf and table. And you get along quite nicely. You'd even go as far to say over the six months of living in his townhouse that you've become friends.

Doing things friends do such as order take-out food together, watch movies on the couch, paint each others nails, share juicy details about your love lives (or lack thereof). Harry is a very fun guy to be around and if you're being honest with yourself, you'd say you've developed a slight crush on him. I mean how could you not? He has nearly all the characteristics of what every woman's ideal man would have. Physical characteristics and things through the actions he does.

Now even though you've became great friends over the six months of living here, there is still stuff you try to keep private. For instance, your periods. Harry's not dumb and obviously knows you get a period. Mainly from seeing your sanitary products under the bathroom sink or in the bin by the toilet. You don't try to keep your periods a secret, just private.

And though Harry knows you get periods, as do most females, he has yet to see the bad side of your periods. The periods that make you sob on the bathroom floor from the amount of pain your cramps are causing. The periods that make you nausous and throw up. Luckily those periods aren't a monthly thing but they do happen a few times a year for whatever reason and it sucks.

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

Late last night as you and Harry were watching a movie on his sofa, you began to feel crampy in your lower stomach. You asked if he could pause the film while you went to the bathroom down the hall and he agreed. And that's when you realized your period had came and you'd leaked. It's not a bad leak but it's enough for you to need to change your underwear and your shorts. Which the shorts barely had any blood on them but still called for a fresh pair.

Once you got yourself situated, you returned to the living room where the first thing Harry commented on is your changed clothes. "Did you change your shorts or somethin'?"

Quickly, you answered, "Yeah, my period started and I kinda leaked. Okay, you can press play on the movie."

Harry nodded sympathetically but followed your orders. He would have said something else to try and comfort you but knew you prefered to keep your periods more private. He doesn't understand why though. All women get periods. It's not something you should be ashamed of and he wished you'd understand that.

Now it's four in the morning and you're woken up to what feels like the worst period cramps of your whole life. Fuck, you scream in your head, it's gonna be one of those months. The longer you lay in bed the more nausous you began to feel from how painful your cramps are and that leads to you stumbling out of bed and rushing to the bathroom down the hall.

After what felt like an eternity, you made it to the bathroom and literally crawled on the floor over to the toilet. Now that you're in the bathroom you feel less nauseous but the pain is still in full force. That's when the tears start flowing. With your back against the wall and your knees up to your chest, sobs roll out your body as you fight against the waves of your uterus contracting to release its lining.

Harry is a heavy sleeper and usually don't wake up unless someone outwardly calls his name or pushes him awake. What wakes him up right now though is a dry mouth and a craving for a glass of water. So he gets out of bed and heads to the kitchen. But before he can even make it to the kitchen, he hears what sounds like crying coming from the hall bathroom.

Rushing over to the bathroom door, the sight before him breaks his heart. You didn't have the strength to shut the door so from the hall, Harry sees you sobbing in front of the toilet, back against the wall, and a hand clutching your stomach. "Oh, Y/n," he steps inside, "what's the matter?"

You slowly lift your head and the first thought in your mind was you didn't want him to see you like this. This was too embarrassing and you were too vulnerable at the moment. "Harry, go. Don't look at me."

Taken back by your words, Harry retorts in concern, "Not until you tell me what's wrong. Are you sick? Why're cryin'?"

Realising it's no use to deny your housemates help in your condition, you answer through the pain and tears, "My.....my cramps are SO bad. It hurts so much, H...Harry. *sob* It's making me feel so sick."

Harry frowns sympathetically and kneels down beside you in just his boxer briefs, which is his usual sleep attire. He would have covered up a bit more if he'd known this is what he was going to be walking into on his trip for a glass of water. As soon as he kneels down, you get the real urge to puke.

You push yourself off the wall and hang your head over the toilet. A harsh dry heave leaves your mouth that makes him cringe but nothing more, yet. Harry quickly scoots behind you and collects your hair with one hand and runs his other hand over your back. He doesn't know if you want to be touched right now but knows that when he's getting sick he finds that if someone rubs on his back it makes him feel a little better.

"Shhh," Harry whispers gently, "it's okay. You're okay. I've got you." He patiently waits until your feel better or actually get sick. After a few more jarring dry heaves, you end up throwing up in the toilet. And though the act feels like hell and is gross, you hope it will also relive the sickness your belly feels due to your period cramps.

You slowly lift your head up, taking deep breaths, and start crying again. This time not from the pain but from embarrassment. Harry's quick to ask, "Hey, what is it, Y/n? The cramps again?"

A little more coherently then the last time you spoke, you answer, "No. Just embarrassed. I threw up in front of you." That has Harry throwing his head back with a laugh.

"Y/n, I don't give a single fuck about you throwing up in front of me. Everyone gets sick from time to time. Just want to make sure you're alright. I hate that your period cramps are causin' you so much pain."

While subconsciously rubbing circles in your lower tummy, you ask desperately in a near whispered voice, "H, can you please go get me some pain medicine. It's in my bedside table drawer in my bedroom. Once I have that I think I'll feel better. At least for a couple of hours."

"Of course." Harry agrees and gets up off the bathroom floor to head to your bedroom. Once inside, he walks straight to your bedside table and opens the drawer to find your bottle of pain medication. While rummaging through to find the bottle, Harry tries to ignore the assortment of sex toys you have in there; bullet vibrator, dildo, clit sucker. Shit, this is the wrong time for him to get all hot and flustered at the thought of you using those under his roof.

He finally finds the bottle of pills and heads back to the bathroom where you still are. Within the time it took him to grab your medicine, you've stood up off the floor, flushed the toilet of course, and now sit on a closed toilet seat. Harry opens the bottle and asks, "How many? One or Two or....?"

"Two please." Harry hands you two tablets and grabs a paper cup used for rinsing your mouths out by the sink and fills it up with tap water. You carefully grab the small cup from his hands and take the pills with urgency, just wanting to be out of pain as soon as possible.

Once that's over with, Harry annonces, "Well, I'll let you get cleaned up in here and I'll be out there waiting for you."

"Okay, thank you." you respond gratefully. Harry really is the best housemate you could have asked for. While he's gone, you change out your tampon and brush the taste of vomit from your mouth. Then you exit the hall bathroom, ready to try and get a few more hours of sleep.

As you step inside your bedroom, you're taken back. Harry has managed to change your sheets and duvet, claiming a fresh pair will help you relax and hopefully sleep better. He's also set an actual glass of water on your nightstand, as well as plugged in his heating pad for you to use. "Harry....... what's all this?"

Nervously, because he doesn't know if this is all too much to do to someone who is just his housemate and friend, Harry replies, "Um, just wanted to make sure you come back to a comfy room. Hopefully you'll get a few more hours of sleep. And if you get thirsty or need to take more medicine, there's a glass of water there. Then my old heating pad that you can use across your tummy to also help with your cramps. Hope it's not too much."

You turn around with a small smile on your face and reach out to hug him. He's startled at first but soon relaxes and hugs you back. You hug for a minute before you break away first and mutter your appreciation. "No, this is great, Harry. Not too much at all. Thank you for your kindness tonight. And thank you for putting up with me in the bathroom. I know that wasn't a pretty sight. So yeah, just, thank you so much."

Looking down at you, Harry gets the urge to kiss you, but instead, says, "Y/n, it's no big deal, really. I would have helped anyone in that situation. Just want you to feel better s'all. Now get back into bed and around ten I'll wake up and make us a brunch. Sound good?"

"Yeah, sounds perfect." You crawl back into your bed that now has fresh sheets and maneuver the heating pad over your tummy. The pain medicine has begun to work but your uterus is still quite achy. As Harry turns around and heads out your door, you yell out, "Night." even though it's five in the morning by now.

"Night, Y/n." Harry speaks as well before slipping back into his bed across the hall. Now laying in your separate beds, all you can think about is how much you would have loved if Harry was in your bed cuddling you. And all Harry can think about is how much he wishes you were in his bed, so he could cuddle you. Maybe one day that day will come. But for now, you're just silly housemates that's turned into friends.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

tag list: @one-sweet-gubler // @harryscherrysugar // @hsfanficsrecss // @lollypopsx // @harrycanyonmoonn // @itfeelslikemytherapisthatesme // @damnasstyles  // @mrsstylesharry // @softmullet  // @meetmyblondemuffins  // @thegirlnextdoorssister // @stanleystyles  // @haarrrys // @michellekstyles  // @skyangel57   // @the-gardener-31 // @lhharrylilpumpkin // @yousunshine-youtemptress // @clairestylessss  // @kissmyaxe140  // @goldenmelonsugar-hi // @kaitieskidmore97 // @florencepughily  // @alienorknight //@dancearoundthelivingroom  // @swiftmendeshoran

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My Masterlist Masterpost

Arguments and Confessions {part 2.} (housemate!harry series)

[solecize]

  𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐤𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (6)

remember lookin' at this room, we loved it 'cause of the light now, i just sit in the dark and wonder if it's time  ten years of being one and the same with jungkook as the country's it couple is the perfect disguise for the reality of a tumultuous relationship hidden behind the scenes. ten years of lies and love and crawling back to one another. once shy, budding first love that blossomed before the weight of fame, the cracks begin to surface amidst your respective rises to stardom and navigation of your twenties. either finding euphoria or the end of the world, there's never any in between in existence for you and jungkook. as you build each other up and break each other down in front of millions of eyes, there is a crossroads ahead with words of "marriage" and "military" looming in the air - all while ignoring the price of fame breathing down your necks. this is the story of love and the lessons learned from the man you made your religion.  and i wouldn't marry me either, a pathological people-pleaser who only wanted you to see her

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: jungkook picks up the pieces of the mess he made, as he looks back on his choices and the people he surrounded himself with. 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: idol!jungkook/female idol!reader and fictional versions of various idols 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄. idol au, on-and-off relationship, angst, i swear there's fluff, fake dating, and themes of first love, growing up, struggles with fame, and marriage (ish) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. PLEASE DON'T EXPECT HAPPINESS, portrayal of a toxic couple (implications of emotional abuse and control), both main characters are very flawed, violence, infidelity, foul language, substance use (illegal drugs) 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. based off of "you're losing me" by taylor swift. this is a fictional portrayal of real-life people that implement some aspects of real-life events. hi welcome back everyone!! it's been a very long time since the last update and i just really wanted to push something out, so hopefully this doesn't seem super rushed because it was important for me to get over my writing slump:) ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤjoin the taglist here!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤm.list | previous | next

every mornin' i glared with you with storms in my eyes how can you say that you love someone you can't tell is dyin'?

TOP HEADLINE TODAY: are bts' jungkook and s.iren's nova the new power couple of the entertainment industry? positive reception indicates rare acceptance of idol relationshipㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ   may 2018

jungkook was still so young, but as he examined his appearance in the mirror, he couldn’t help but notice the way age settled beneath his skin. one couldn’t tell by first glance, but his eyes were old and tired. it was difficult to remember the last time they lit up with a spark, rather than sitting half lidded and apathetic. his lips were fixed into a permanent frown when he was away from the cameras, despondent like worn out leather. nothing could cut through the fabric, especially not now. he was reminded of this, as his manager read out his schedule for the day and several stylists picked at his dark hair that fell just above his eyes now. his shoulders drooped further when he heard your name amongst the activities laid out for him.

“the red carpet begins at seven, your and y/n’s car will arrive at approximately seven twenty four - not too late, not too early that nobody will be there.”

this was the first public event that the two of you were scheduled to attend as a couple. of course, that was nerve wracking enough, but it didn’t help that you were still giving him the cold shoulder. he didn’t expect anything else and any blame would be misplaced, but it was worrying to look forward to feigning happiness for the cameras. he knew you like the back of his hand and you were a horrible liar. he knew every quirk at the corner of your lips when you smiled and the way a crease formed between your eyebrows when you grew frustrated. jungkook was one of the only people who noticed the way you bit the inside of your cheek when you got nervous and how you looked at people’s ears instead of their eyes when you got shy. 

once upon a time, he would say that it was because you were his. now, you weren’t and he was just some stranger who knew every inch of you with his eyes closed.

jungkook hated himself for what he did to you and what he hated even more was that the world continued to spin regardless. his members, some oblivious to jungkook’s betrayal and others simply just suspicious of his faithfulness to his girlfriend, continued treating their youngest member as usual. seokjin and jimin gave him the hardest time, as the former was genuinely the most disappointed in jungkook and gave him a week-long cold shoulder after yelling at him, while jimin had to bear witness to the dramatic confrontation at hotel azure. however, there was no choice but to simply condemn jungkook’s actions and move on - they were still a unit whose careers relied on each other. they were also brothers at the end of the day and disagreeing with one person wouldn’t break their bond. 

besides, it was clearly a sensitive topic for jungkook, despite the mass of guilt weighing his body down with every breath he took. no one heard from him for days following the dispatch article, presumably locked up in his apartment and drinking his consciousness away. everyone knew about his growing drinking problem, but were shocked to see the extent of it when they finally confronted him.

“i don’t think you should be the one crying and hiding,” muttered hoseok, who led the charge in recovering jungkook after everyone got fed up with him ghosting anyone who tried to reach him.

it was the eldest four of the group who broke into his home, just several hours prior to their flight to tokyo for a weekend-long event. this was after the first few days since the news broke and since anyone saw him in person. seokjin, although refusing to speak to jungkook, brought food for him, while namjoon and hoseok physically dragged him out of bed and yoongi forcibly went through his belongings to pack clothes on his behalf. 

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what’s wrong with me,” was all jungkook could make out and it wasn’t clear if he was referring to the fact that he wasn’t cooperating or the situation with you as a whole. it also wasn’t clear if his hoarse speech was due to being under the influence or from crying. 

yoongi pinched the bridge of his nose, watching his members push jungkook into his washroom to get himself decent. “this. . .this is pathetic,” he said, as there were no other words to describe the scene. 

at least namjoon managed a sympathetic expression on his features. “he keeps saying over and over again that he’s sorry.”

and that was all jungkook knew. that he was sorry. that he had never made such a mistake in his life. he also knew that he had no explanation or excuse, no matter how he rationalized his actions to himself in the past few months. jungkook couldn’t figure out how he even did such a thing, until yoongi stopped him in his tracks, just before the five of them departed jungkook’s apartment. 

jungkook nearly lost balance, as his head hung low as he walked and dragged his suitcase behind him. the others looked on from the hallway, upon noticing that yoongi paused in front of jungkook before he could close the front door behind him.

“your pockets. empty them, kook.”

yoongi knew before jungkook even realized that he brought it along. it was simply second nature and that was the problem. if it was even possible for further shame to illuminate in his dark eyes, jungkook made sure to cut his gaze away to avoid his older friend’s fiery one. without a word of protest, jungkook reached into the side of his jacket and revealed a flask, which he tossed on the floor behind him. 

that was two weeks ago. it wasn’t much to be proud of, but jungkook swore on sobriety since then. 

that meant it was also over two weeks since he saw you in person. even though it felt like forever, he knew it didn’t mean jack shit to you, who he knew hated him. the look in your eyes when you begged your company to not have anything to do with him, was something he could never forget. he wanted to scrub it off his skin until it was raw. the shame jungkook felt overwhelmed him to the point where he knew he wasn’t even worthy to feel guilt. he was embarrassed for the man he became. 

however, the world kept spinning. nobody stopped to care for his problems or his mistakes, especially with the career he chose. jungkook was bts’ jungkook and people were relying on him - his fans, his group members, his company. nobody cared and he didn’t expect anyone to. 

he didn’t care about the world continuing to spin in spite of him - his thoughts were consumed with how you were doing as the sun continued to set and rise amidst your suffering. jungkook couldn’t even bear to look you up on social media or the internet. sure, he would be reminded of the insane predicament that your companies just placed on the two of you, but more importantly, jungkook knew that he had no place checking up on you. he wanted nothing more than to pull you into his arms and weep, to patch up the deep wound he inflicted on you. when your companies made the publicity plan official, jungkook thought it was the heavens above granting him some sort of second chance at winning you back. 

yet, as he waited in a limousine, waiting for your arrival to drive over to this red carpet event, he was nervous. jungkook felt oxygen trapped in his throat, choking on the fear of facing you once more and it burned a deep hole in his body. he didn’t deserve this. you didn’t deserve this. 

over the past two weeks, you didn't know how else to deal with your emotions other than the only way you’d done so for years - by ignoring it and shoving it into the back of your mind. if anyone crossed paths with you, they would simply congratulate you on the successful relationship and ask to say hi to your new public boyfriend. you would plaster on a tight smile and thank the person through your teeth. 

the worst part was that no one even knew. even if they were present on that fateful night at hotel azure, any party attendee who saw the news could only assume that you were merely a spineless coward that crawled back to jungkook despite being publicly betrayed. you were defenseless and all of your walls were broken down.

it was an ironic thing, for the two of you to be so alone in the world and being pushed towards one another at the same time.

anyone could see that something was wrong, but it didn’t matter and no one dared to speak up. your makeup artist’s curious eyes were hard to miss, as she prompted for you to stop furrowing your eyebrows during the application of your foundation, but your pr manager’s cut eye from the corner of the dressing room silenced any questioning.

“how many times did you read it over?”

through gritted teeth, you responded, “seven.”

the stack of papers wedged between a flimsy plastic binder were just about as thick as your wrist and felt heavier that it actually was - likely because you were forced to carry it everywhere you went for the past few days. it was a collection of various documents relating to media and public relations, including the full-length version of your NDA with your company and bighit in relation to your coupling with jungkook. there was also a detailed guide to answering interview questions, how to stand next to one another, social media etiquette, and anything that could ever come up. hell, there was written practice on how to look at one another. 

ms. choi was the special pr manager assigned to all activities and releases concerning your public relationship. you had met her at the meeting with the board of directors at the bighit company building and she reminded you of a math teacher that you used to hate in school. domineering, always looking over your schedule, and sent shivers up and down your spine. she was not someone to be messed with and above all, she was extremely particular about how she wanted things done. anyone would be a fool to cross her - perfect for the role she was hired to do.

she required you to review the binder several times before all public appearances and it was exhausting. you also had an inkling that your beloved didn’t have the same treatment and your suspicions were confirmed when you crossed paths with him for the first time in weeks, bearing no papers or preparation of any kind in his hands.

instead, he was positioned at the farthest corner of the limousine when the door was opened for you, taking his own precautions against you.

jungkook’s stomach dropped when the vehicle came to a stop in front of the familiar sight of your company building. there was a ticking time bomb at the core of his ribs and it was an explosion to be set off as soon as he saw your shadowy figure approach through the tinted windows. even though he’d been doing everything in his power to brace himself, he still flinched when the door swung open.

his entire body turned cold with rage and guilt when his eyes fell on you. he imagined greek goddesses dripping in gold and glowing in divinity throughout the history of time, but they still wouldn’t hold a candle to you. it was difficult to pinpoint the source of such celestial haze - perhaps your appearance long muddled in self-hatred and anger since hotel azure and now a glistening memory being remembered before his very eyes. it was like learning a lost nostalgia, as if it had been more than mere weeks since laying eyes on you. the taste was bitter and he refused to deem himself worthy of such a thing, but if you picked at jungkook’s brain and held him against his will, it would be a whispered confession of falling in love all over again.

in a tint of twinkling champagne, you donned a floor length evening gown with a fitted, mermaid silhouette. the beaded sweetheart neckline hugged your torso and was accentuated with a sharper edge at your clavicle, before creating a bolder figure flaring out into an hourglass shape. your hair was slicked back into a wet look, as loose curls enhanced by waist-length extensions framed your face. the makeup chosen for the look was simple - a nude gloss, soft flush of pink blush and a sharp eyeliner wing. the star of the show was truly your dress, as just a pair of small gold drop earrings were your only accessory. 

thankfully, the dress wore you and not the other way around, as your misery was too loud to not be seen and so, the glamour of your attire created a successful camouflage. if anyone looked at you, they would only see your beauty and not your anguish - a heartbreaking curse on women who chased fame as their body of work. 

the curse almost snuck past jungkook, who initially was struck by your appearance, but then saw the way you bit the inside of your cheek. the way emptiness sunk behind your regard. the way you accidentally locked eyes with him and broke away immediately, as if letting a curse word slip or touching something too hot.

“ten minutes to arrival.” jungkook’s manager cut through the obvious tension in the air, thick as nectar.

you sat opposite of him, pretending to pick at your manicured nails after setting your binder next to you and in between his manager. the space was well-needed, as you could barely acknowledge any of his team in the limousine. 

jungkook replayed this moment prior to your arrival dozens of times in his head and in every version, he couldn’t even sputter out a polite greeting. he had no place. in this timeline, he, too, failed to say hello.

as the next few seconds progressed, those around you and jungkook were shifting in clear discomfort. jungkook wasn’t exactly prepared by any means, as his staff had barely been able to get him to respond with something more than a grunt and nod to any attempted interaction throughout the day. meanwhile, your team was watching you like a hawk, policing you like a child with your every move. 

naturally, someone from your side - thinking that they uncovered the secret key - reached into a compartment and pulled out a pristine bottle of cristal. 

with the hopes of easing the tension-filled air, she looked between the two of you and mused, “first public appearance together. drinks anyone?”

you were reaching for a flute already, even before jungkook could wave off the champagne. he didn’t miss the way several individuals in the car, including his own manager, exchanged shocked expressions at his decline. jungkook never said no to a drink before an event and it wasn’t rare for him to already show up slightly inebriated in the first place. 

for the first time, you willingly looked up at him, also taken aback. before his eyes could blink back to yours, you were already staring out the window and sipping slowly on your champagne. if you allowed yourself to let your thoughts linger too long on jungkook’s rejection of alcohol, it would mean you cared. meanwhile, he assumed you’d already gone through all sorts of emotions, likely the entire seven stages of grief. maybe you finally came to accept that you no longer needed jungkook in your life.

however, there were precisely four moments that altered everything.

moment number one occurred precisely twenty three minutes after your reunion with jungkook. at this point, he’d used up the entire time on the way to the event trying to not appear like he was sulking. thankfully, your managers began explaining the agenda for the night and several, firm reminders of do’s and don’ts for the camera. the conversation filled up the heavy, dreadful space lingering between you two in the car. 

though there was an obvious attempt to not come off as harsh, given the circumstances of clear torment between you, jungkook knew that this night was crucial. the two of you really needed to sell being a couple or face consequences that he couldn’t even imagine. this was your career at the end of the day and its fragile state laid in his hands.

so, before you knew it, the short ride was up and jungkook was greeted by the blinding lights of photographers at every angle possible, even before the car door was fully open. he knew to step out first and structure the perfect gentleman image, as this photo was surely going to be on every social media platform, every homepage, every magazine. the weight of the world rested on his shoulders and the only thing he could do was stretch a pearly white smile across his face.

“jungkook! jungkook, over here!” several reporters called out, ready like a cannon to fire away all the juicy questions in their arsenal since the relationship announcement.

throughout the past two weeks, the youngest member of bts wasn’t all that concerned with the actual publicity of the relationship. he was far too deep into grief to even consider the emotional toll that this new aspect of his job was going to have. he knew that he’d have to spend a generous amount of time with you, which was where the source of his anguish and guilt came from, but he nearly forgot how awful it was dealing with media in general. jungkook should have known that it was only going to get worse in the role he was now forced to play, as your public beau.

“jungkook! how’s y/n?” one reporter kept repeating over and over, wildly waving with one hand to get his attention.

another yelled, “jungkook, how does it feel to be the most searched term with y/n for fifteen days straight?”

while the screams were loud upon jungkook’s appearance, a hushed anticipation floated in the air. some expected other bts members to appear behind him. the crowd couldn’t even dream of the presence of jungkook’s newly official girlfriend, but as soon as one golden heel hit the velvet carpet, the floor nearly rumbled at the volume of yells. 

this time, there was no choice but to hold a fixed gaze for longer than two seconds with one another, as your figure fully emerged from the limousine and met the blinding lights. the real job had begun and it was evident by the sudden smile mirrored on your face. it took jungkook aback, as he had been replaying your devastated expression at hotel azure over and over again for weeks. he was shackled to those memories of tears in your eyes - by the pool, in the elevator, at the bighit building.

“ready?” 

it took a second to process that you were actually talking to him, as he did a double take. you arched a single, perfect eyebrow at him, as if he just told you a funny joke. one thing you always kept up was the fact that you insisted you were the funnier one out of the two of you, often playing the dynamic of a straight man that refused to laugh. 

jungkook realized what you were doing - already portraying a different character for the cameras and it was one of a loving girlfriend that really wasn’t his. despite the heaviness in his chest, he had no choice but to play along, too.

he held out his arm for you and you gladly grasped it, looping your own through. although fans and reporters alike were still screaming at the top of their lungs, the touch of your hand on his arm nearly hurled jungkook back and to the ground. he forgot what it was like, to have your touch and to see your smile. moment one made him forget who he was and where he was, as if he was just yours once again. 

this single, seemingly mundane, snapshot of the night was immortalized within jungkook’s mind. it was a second that transported him back in time, almost mockingly. he decided right then and there that he would be chasing these moments for as long as he could.

there was a certain fear that settled in jungkook’s skin, wondering if he would forever have to deal with your silence behind the scenes or suffering through forced touches in front of the cameras. 

over time, it got better. when forced together in spaces like these, he was still too concerned with walking on eggshells around you to even try anything with you. he was too ashamed to talk to you, to laugh with you. there was always a safe distance between the two of you and jungkook made it a point to be as professional as possible.

the worst part was that he couldn’t read you at all. despite the fact that the two of you knew each other since you were practically kids meant nothing when the only face you wore was that of a stone cold expression. it drove jungkook crazy, especially when you so obviously feigned excitement or love when your job required you to. he watched puppet strings dictate every slight change of expression on your face and it felt like rocks in his stomach. 

this safe distance was easy to maintain when watchful eyes of staff members lingered at every schedule - until they didn’t.

moment two, unlike moment one with you on the red carpet, was approached with fear and uncertainty. jungkook was ill-prepared this time around, having thought that he was looking forward to a rare friday night off when his phone and ms. choi demanded his presence across the city in less than twenty minutes. unlike the jungkook he knew in himself from even just a month prior, he wanted nothing to do with anything if it wasn’t involving laying down in his bed for the whole night.

deep down inside, he knew he wasn’t a party animal. it was nothing he yearned for, but instead, the idea of losing a bit of reality for even just a few hours. down some drinks here, take some pills there. that was the lifestyle he learned from his group of “friends.”

the “friends” was in quotations because there were a select few people in his life that openly declared themselves jungkook’s real friends - his group members, a handful of the 97 line, and others. they were in mostly opposition to the circle that jungkook ran in outside of the, which included bored chaebols, influencers, producers and club promoters with the world at the palm of their hand. they found jungkook to be a cute little idol that could be used for clout. 

namjoon often warned jungkook about the people he surrounded himself with, but it was hard when they stuck to him like glue. it was as if he had his own little minions that enabled jungkook to do whatever he felt, as they crossed paths in every major city in the world. jungkook had his boys in los angeles, his connections in tokyo, the rich heirs of singapore. being constantly on tour and away from home was painful in every sense of the word, but he was able to numb it with the people around him.

that was the beginning of the end when it came to hurting when away from you.

surprisingly, jungkook avoided groupies. it was an easy trap for anyone blinded by the shining lights of fame to get lost in that world - maybe it had to do with his members and their own reservations regarding such a thing. while the company and management were strict, anyone could get their way if they were smart enough about it. regardless, it simply wasn’t the band’s prerogative to hook up with fans. instead, jungkook crumbled under pressure through other means.

it was a friday night like tonight, but he was certainly not laying down in bed. bts was in kyoto and celebrating their head choreographer’s birthday at a dingy, hole in the wall nightclub. the walls reeked of nicotine and it was so small that he couldn’t make two steps in either direction without crashing into someone. jungkook made this very mistake and that’s how she ended up falling into his arms. from there, they laughed it off, drank too much, and ended up in his bed by the end of the night. 

the only reason why it even happened was because you uttered the words that jungkook thought he’d never hear: i hate you. the fight over the phone was about a multitude of things that was exacerbated by the distance placed between you two because of work and the fact that you were under the influence throughout the entire conversation, sipping on gin on the rocks as it progressed and became rowdy by the end of it as a result. you yelled the three words and hung up on jungkook, prompting him to also get completely wasted before attending the birthday party. he thought that was the end of it, as he heard the words that broke his heart in that moment. you were never one to pull your punches when it came to the harshness of your words, even calling him names in the past, but those three words were beyond anything else.

jungkook didn’t expect you to call him the morning after in tears, apologizing and wanting to make it right.

“dude, it’s not a big deal,” kelvin, one of jungkook’s buddies that was next in line to inherit some singaporean tech company, tried convincing him one night. 

at this point, it’d been a few weeks after the affair and he was starting to feel the guilt building. the tour was about to end, which meant coming home to his girlfriend. the feelings only began to haunt jungkook at night, when he stared up at the ceiling of whatever hotel he was staying at that night. they scraped at his insides with metal forks and jolted his senses like electricity when he dwelled too long about the betrayal he committed. 

“besides,” chimed in nina, another member of their inner circle that was sitting a little too close to jungkook. “you’ve been complaining about y/n for how long now?”

she was a tall and pretty model that looked like she was ready to pounce on the chance to be jungkook’s next hypothetical little secret. jungkook never looked at her like that, though. she’d been bordering on inappropriate closeness with him for nearing a year now and you had been warning him of this, which he ignored. then again, that was the way you were with every female that even breathed the same air as him.

admittedly, you were a bit possessive. for instance, there was no way in hell jungkook was allowed to have female friends while in a relationship with you. you had his location, he had yours - not because he was obsessive over it like you were, but because it only seemed fair. there were multiple instances of you picking fights with girls at parties or other social outings because they simply looked in jungkook’s direction. above all else, it was your way or the highway.

jungkook was a people pleaser and it was his fatal flaw that had an even weaker spot when it came to you. you were outgoing and some may call it flirtatious the way you cozied up to men and women. however, you were able to easily soothe your boyfriend with affectionate touches when he got riled up about it and that was that. it was certainly problematic that you were prone to interacting with others that would have upset yourself and that was one of the issues the two of you often fought about. 

“i don’t complain about her,” jungkook began to scoff, but nina rolled her eyes at his response.

“every time you talk about her, it just sounds like you listing off all the ways how she controls your life,” she said. “just keep doing you.”

a few of the others in the group murmured in agreement. he and his friends were enjoying dinner at some fancy french restaurant that jungkook wasn’t particularly fond of, but went along for the sake of everyone else. in front of the entire group, kelvin decided to spill the beans about jungkook’s affair and of course, they all encouraged it. he was a star, everyone had some sort of little secret on the side. it was a rite of passage amongst celebrities, even. meanwhile, like namjoon, you hated his new friends and warned jungkook that they were full of trouble. it was all the more reason for them to validate his actions and encourage him to continue his affair, maybe even pick up on a few more, when they saw you as a nuisance. 

kelvin continued, “like, come on. everyone does it. who cares if it keeps going?”

it made jungkook feel okay. besides, she was there and you were not. it wasn’t just convenient, it was too easy to create her into an outlet to get away from all his feelings and troubles that couldn’t be numbed with liquor and pills. he was able to forget about all the pressures of being an idol - the way his every move was being watched and how the entire world talked about him endlessly. he didn’t have to think so hard about his growing dependence on alcohol. he was able to forget how much he missed his family and the time he lost to be able to be a kid. jungkook was able to forget how much he missed you and how he wasn’t able to protect you from the harshness of real life - being away from each other, the stress of your respective careers, and everything in between. he knew it was wrong to keep going and there was no excuse, but he also knew he was a coward.

his cowardice is what found him in silence as he waited for you in front of your apartment complex tonight, as per the instructions given to him by mrs. choi, and the aforementioned moment two. these next three snapshots frozen in time would finally melt the ice that burned the deepest crevices of your heart: right now, the night in the hotel room during a snowstorm, and the day of your solo debut. 

[pervertwhore]

(omg ok first time doing this but)

ok this is a safe space (saw piss kink n my neurons ACTIVATED) so while having ur throat clogged w his cock u taste piss n ur obv disgusted by it so u (softly) bite in protest trying to let him know what's wrong n instead of letting you up he keeps your head in place n gruffly says in his alcohol fueled voice "can you taste my piss, bitch? hm? can't be still without having something in your mouth, and now you're bitching *again,"* he says w a grunt as he forces himself deeper down ur esophagus making you gag n retch— 🔇

tw. piss drinking & dark! leon kennedy under cut!

NONNIE! THIS IS SOO HOT!!! hello my dearly beloved omfg this…i want you so bad, when i tell you my hand teleported into my pants when i read this for the first time like how did that happen!!1!1 no cause when i say piss kink this is what i’m talking abt i need to consume this man’s acid piss 🔥

YES!! this is a safe place i promise, never be shy to talk to me abt anything cuz chance is i’ll match your freak .. i hope to see you in my ask box again soon.. xx

if you don’t like piss, save yourself and skip this post LMFAO it’ll be easier for the both of us 🔥

but yeah! i can definitely see it :(( your knees are all bruised up and achy while leon’s cock was shoved inside your mouth uncomfortably. you bopped your head, taking him in and out, your warm tongue pressing on his shaft, feeling the veins that adorn his skin against your muscle.

while your throat is occupied, leon is lounging, his hand gripping the back of your head while his nails scratched your scalp. he’s lazily rolling his hips against your face while a familiar pressure in his lower tummy ached.

leon had to piss, of course he did, he was shooting back some whiskey like it was water. one thing about alcohol was, not only does it give you a nice buzz, but it makes you piss more.

as you eagerly sucked his cock, leon could feel the pressure building up more and more. sure, he knew he should pull out and go take a leak, but where’s the fun in that?

so, without warning, he just started to piss, not caring about your feelings on the matter. the warm salty liquid overtook your mouth before you could even realize what the hell was happening — once you did, you gripped his thighs, manicured nails digging into his flesh as your teeth pressed against his shaft. you had tried to pull your head back, but his grip on the back of your head tightened, his grip was firm, keeping his cock shoved down your mouth, forcing the piss to travel down your throat.

you didn’t want to choke, so swallowing was your only choice.

you tried to struggle against him, but all he did was shove you down his cock. his free hand moving to pinch your nose, blocking air flow. “stop bitching,” he grunted, his brow furrowing, trying to bite his cock? are you stupid? “it’s just some piss, you’re not going to die.” leon scoffed, letting go of your nose so you could breathe, but he kept your pretty face pressed flushed against his crotch, your nose pressing against his pubic bone.

by now, tears are slipping past your waterline, the taste of his piss and the feeling of his cock blocking your throat was making it hard to keep yourself from fighting against him. your body curled, gagging and retching against his cock, your drool pooling onto the floor while some of his piss left your lips — you clawed at his thighs, wanting to pull away, you didn’t want to throw up. god, the idea made you shiver and gag.

leon, on the other hand, didn’t care how much you gagged and retched, he let his body relax as the pressure in his lower belly relieved itself.

letting out a low groan, leon leaned his head back against the couch when the stream ended.

once you forcefully swallowed back the last gulps of his piss, you immediately tried to pull away from him — to catch your breath and cough, but leon’s hand remained firm on the back of your head.

“ah-ah,” he huffed, a lazy smirk curling on his lips, “i’m not done yet.” he reminded, thrusting his hips up against your pretty face, why would he let you pull away? his cock was still hard, and he was making that your problem.