#veil of denial about it

[chimielie]

any modern au where gojo and geto are roommates is so funny to me because there is no universe, curses or not, where gojo satoru isn’t filthy rich. which means that he’s just doing that because he wants to be around his bestie 24/7 which is completely in character even if it’s just a background plot device

[catinheadlights]

Susan strikes again

[lunas-side-anime-blog]

specific icks i think my fav JJK ppl would give me bc the solution to delulu is bullying <3

(yuji, megumi, nobara, gojo, nanami, inumaki, yuta, maki, toji and choso)

Yuji

swears to god he can handle spicy food and I promise you he cannot. like every time you guys get ramen and can choose your spice level he insists on the hottest one but he just ends up sweating and crying by the end of it. he will never learn 🙁

Megumi 

he’s that one person in a group chat who's silent and doesn’t respond or react to anything, but if you kick him out he’d be bitter about it? fucking voyeur, like do you just wanna watch human interaction or are you gonna contribute at some point?😒

Nobara

i think if you’re her friend and her crush walks by, she’d do a full mood shift and suddenly be meaner to you in hopes of making her crush laugh. THERE'S A SPECIAL PLACE IN HELL FOR PPL WHO DO THIS^^

Gojo

gojo just assumes if you tell him something, it’s okay to talk about it like anywhere? he has walked up to you and said, “hey y/n! brought some cranberry juice for you UTI! oh! who are they??😀” and you're literally sitting and talking to your PARENTS. 

Nanami

brags about not having friends as if it’s his choice? listen I love nanami as much as the next girl with daddy issues, but you cannot tell me he'd have any friends. and he’s in denial about it too, he’d say something like, “I just can’t be bothered with such idiots, I’m too busy and smart.” and it's like “...did they even invite you to sit with them babe? who's rejecting who, here? bc sounds like they just don’t like you🫢”

Inumaki

i’m willing to bet money that he does that thing where he clutches his spoon in a fist, ifykyk like I’m cringing just thinking about it. toddler behavior🍼

Yuta

picky eater who lies and says he’s allergic to food he doesn’t like, just bc he's that dead serious about you not bringing pickles around him. he’s committed too like he’ll fake a choking noise and everything. drama queen 👑

Maki

hey mama's lesbian, I’m srry but she is. has one sports bra she wears every. single. day. it’s v questionable bc "babe, when do you wash it??🕵️‍♂️"

Toji

wears the oldest, most torn up boxers like they can be falling apart at the seams with gaping holes in them and he doesn’t see the problem??? 

Choso

thinks he’s so dark and messed up like, “my music will prob scare you” type shit and it’s just Pierce the Veil lmao?

[huggingkoalas]

is this hatred? or love? part 1

pairings natasha romanoff x fem!reader

synopsis what happens when you have to share a bed with your enemy?

word count 2.9k

warnings fluff, teasing, gunshot wound, reader’s injured, pet names (sweetheart, love), one bed trope, enemies to lovers, they’re both so in denial it makes me want to bang my head against the wall

author’s note haven’t had the time to write in a long time. i honestly had a lot of fun writing this, natasha being the most annoying fucking tease is the biggest headcannon to me <3

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“Need a hand, dorogaya (sweetheart)?”

“Shut up, Romanoff.”

“If you say so.”

With your dominant hand pressed firmly against your wounded abdomen to stem the bleeding, your other hand trembled as it swiped the card through the reader. Natasha leaned her back casually against the adjacent wall, her boredom thinly veiled by a feigned yawn as the reader emitted its third ‘beep’ of rejection due to your insufficient force.

“We’ll be here all day. Aren’t you supposed to have super soldier serum in your blood?” 

“I said shut up.”

With an exasperated scoff, Natasha snatched the card out of your hand. She forcefully swiped it through the reader, the satisfying click of the door unlocking echoing in the corridor. As the door swung open to reveal the dimly lit motel room, Natasha couldn’t help but grin smugly.

“See? Easy as pie.”

You grunted in response, carefully adjusting your stance to maintain pressure on your wound. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it, love.” She replied breezily. 

With a nod of appreciation, you stepped through the doorway, a wave of relief washing over you, although the throbbing pain in your abdomen dampened it. Natasha followed suit, closing the door behind her and locking it. She walked past you, her demeanour shifting subtly from teasing to attentive as she scanned the room. Once she familiarised herself with the layout and window exits, she turned back to you, nodding her head to give you the all-clear.

The room looked ordinary like any other hostel room, with neutral-toned walls and simple furnishings. A small table sat in one corner, adorned with a lamp and a few scattered brochures. Across the room, a worn-out armchair stood next to a narrow window, its curtains drawn shut to block the dim city lights. On the opposite wall, a modest dresser provided limited storage space, its drawers slightly ajar. Despite its lack of luxury, the room emanated a sense of comfort. As you looked around the unremarkable surroundings, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude for the simple shelter it provided.

While you were busy surveying the room, Natasha’s attention was on your injured abdomen, a subtle flash of concern in her eyes. The sight of the fresh blood staining your shirt in the brief moments it took to open the door tugged at her heartstrings, even if she would never admit it to you.

“How bad is the wound?” She inquired, pointing a finger towards your abdomen.

You glanced down, noting the slight redness seeping through the fabric and onto your shirt. “Well, I wouldn’t have this wound if someone realised that a HYDRA agent was aiming at them.” You retorted.

Natasha smirked, a glint of amusement dancing in her eyes. “Hey, it’s not my fault they can’t resist taking a shot at me, I’m irresistible.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle despite the ache in your side. “Irresistible, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

“Of course.” She shrugged casually, giving you a knowing look. “I honestly think we both attract trouble wherever we go. It's probably the only reason Fury paired the two of the biggest troublemakers on this mission, right? He’s probably having the best day of his life without having to deal with us constantly being at each other’s throats.”

You smirked, acknowledging the truth in her words. “Seems like Fury knows what he’s doing after all.”

 “Well, I’d like to think he’s getting some entertainment out of it.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Entertainment? More like a headache.”

Her smirk softened into a faint smile as she shook her head. “Just because you saved me doesn’t mean that I don’t hate you still.”

“Likewise, Romanoff. Just because we’re being all buddy-buddy right now doesn’t mean I suddenly like you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Good. Wouldn’t want things to get too sentimental, partner.”

You knew that the word ‘partner’ was dripping with teasing and sarcasm. The two of you were anything but cooperative with each other. You both frequently exchanged biting remarks, teasing, and insults. You couldn’t help but wonder what you had done to make her despise you so much. You were nice to her when you joined the Avengers all those years ago, but it always seemed that she harboured a deep dislike for you. When you spoke up in a team meeting, she would scowl and you could always feel her gaze burning a hole in your skull.

In the beginning, you tried to get along with her and be as friendly to her as you were to everyone else. From offering her assistance during training or helping her with her mission reports, nothing you did ever seemed to break the coldness and distance in her heart. You knew she wasn’t the most extroverted person, but you never saw her act that way towards others. Eventually, you gave up and decided it was best to ignore her, just as she had ignored you. 

Of course, once you started ignoring her too, Natasha’s behaviour changed. She started teasing and taunting you, finding ways to provoke a reaction from you even when you tried to ignore her. And she kept winning. Her incessant teasing had a way of getting under your skin. It was a frustrating cycle of provocation and reaction. You felt like you were constantly on edge whenever she was around. 

But reluctantly, you couldn’t deny that everything had changed during the mission an hour ago. Despite the heated tensions, you both had an unspoken agreement to watch each other’s backs in battle.

As the weight of the moment settled on you, Natasha’s gaze softened, and her concern for your well-being was evident in the depths of her eyes. “But seriously,” she said, her tone changing to genuine concern, “let me help you tend to that wound before it gets infected.”

You shook your head slightly. “It’s okay, I can take care of it myself.”

Her expression tightened slightly, her concern unwavering. “Stubborn as always,” she muttered under her breath.

You met her gaze with a steely resolve. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve handled worse.”

Her lips formed a thin line, showing her frustration. "Think of it as a way of repaying you for helping me.” She insisted, her voice firm.

You knew she wouldn’t give the matter up. The both of you were equally as stubborn as a mule. “Fine.” You relented, offering a nod. 

“Great,” Natasha replied, a hint of relief in her tone. “To the bathroom then. I’m sure this motel room has a first aid kit somewhere…”

You and Natasha made your way to the bathroom, her footsteps echoing yours. Silently, you took a seat on the edge of the closed toilet seat. You leaned back against the toilet’s tank, the cool porcelain surface offering a brief respite from the tension in your muscles. She wasted no time in retrieving the first aid kit from the mirror cabinet and moving towards you. 

“Take off your shirt,” She instructed, settling the first aid kit on the tiled floor.

Your brows furrowed in surprise at her directive. “W-What?” You stammered, looking down at her with an incredulous look.

Natasha rolled her eyes at your surprise, her patience wearing thin. “Come on, don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be,” she chided, her tone tinged with exasperation. “I can’t clean your wound if you have your shirt on.”

Reluctantly, you began to peel off your shirt cautiously. Each inch revealed the angry red gunshot wound beneath, eliciting a whine as the fabric grazed against your wound. At least you were lucky that the bullet passed through instead of staying inside your body. As more of your skin came into view, Natasha’s eyes widened, her breath catching in her throat. A blush crept onto her cheeks, betraying her normally composed demeanour. Despite her best efforts to maintain her composure, the sight of your exposed skin stirred something within her, igniting a warmth that she couldn’t quite suppress. Quickly, she averted her gaze, busying herself with preparing the first aid supplies. Though she tried to hide it, the flush on her cheeks lingered.

As you finally removed your shirt, Natasha’s expression softened even further. “Thank you for sacrificing yourself for me. It was incredibly stupid, though.” She murmured, her voice softer now.

“It’s alright, Romanoff.”

“You can call me Natasha, you know. You’re the only one in the team that still calls me by my last name.”

“Alright, Natasha.” Your lips twitched into a small, appreciative smile. 

In a comfortable silence, Natasha began to carefully clean the wound with a cotton ball soaked in rubbing alcohol, her touch gentle yet precise. The warmth of her fingertips against your skin sent a shiver down your spine. As she worked, you couldn’t help but steal glances at her, admiring the focused expression on her face.

Natasha’s brows furrowed as she delicately dabbed at the wound, her lips forming a thin line. Now and then, she would scrunch her nose up, a small, endearing gesture that softened her usual stoic expression. Despite the pain, a smile tugged at the corners of your lips at the sight of her.

Once the wound was cleaned and dressed, her gaze met yours with a sense of satisfaction. “There,” she said softly, relief in her voice. “All done.”

You offered her a grateful smile, “Thank you.”

A small, genuine smile curved Natasha’s lips as she met your gaze. “Anytime, dorogaya (sweetheart).”

As she rose to her feet, a blush crept onto your cheeks. You were well-acquainted with Natasha’s tendency to use nicknames on you, especially ‘dorogaya’, but it was typically wielded with a teasing edge. This time, however, it wasn’t accompanied by the usual teasing tone. Instead, it carried a genuine warmth that caught you off guard.

“Uh…” You stammered, feeling a warmth spreading through your chest at the unexpectedly sincere endearment. Clearing your throat, you tried to push aside the fluttering in your chest.

Her smile widened at your reaction. “Nervous, are we?”

“Shut up, Natasha.” 

She chuckled softly at your retort, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she teased, her tone light and playful.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips despite the warmth still lingering in your cheeks. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to your words.

With a shake of her head, Natasha reached down to offer you a hand. “Come on, let’s get you back on your feet,” she said.

You hesitated for a moment, touched by her gesture, before placing your hand in hers. With a steady grip, she helped you to your feet. She moved to the doorway before looking at you over her shoulder. “I’ll let you shower first. Try not to get water on the dressing.”

“Got it.”

With a final nod of acknowledgement, Natasha closed the door behind her, leaving you alone in the quiet of the bathroom. Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you slipped off the rest of your clothes and placed them in a pile with your soiled shirt. A sense of relief washed over you at the prospect of washing away the grime of the day’s events. You turned on the water, allowing the warm cascade to envelop you as you stepped beneath the stream. Despite the lingering ache in your abdomen, the sensation of the water against your skin was soothing, easing the aching tension that had settled in your muscles.

As you stood beneath the spray, you couldn’t help but reflect on the events that led to this moment. Fury had sent you and Natasha on what was supposed to be a routine mission, but as these things often went, it spiralled into chaos. The intel given was faulty, the security stronger than anticipated, and you were in over your heads before you knew it. It was a mission gone wrong, one of those rare instances where even the most meticulous planning couldn’t prevent disaster.

In the aftermath of the debacle, with your injuries sustained and the mission being held in another country, there was no choice but to seek refuge in a motel room for a night before a Quinjet could transport you back to the Avengers Compound. Fury had booked a motel room for you and Natasha, a nondescript haven tucked away from prying eyes. It was a humble accommodation, far removed from the luxuries of the Compound, but at least it provided a temporary sanctuary where you could tend to your wounds without drawing unwanted attention.

As you stood beneath the shower’s warm spray, the mission’s events were still fresh and raw as they replayed in your mind like a relentless loop. The close calls, the split-second decisions, the adrenaline-fueled rush of combat. And yet, despite the chaos and uncertainty, one thing remained constant — Natasha fighting with you side-by-side.

You couldn’t help but marvel at Natasha’s resilience. Her determination even in the face of overwhelming odds. She had saved your life more times than you could count, her skills as an assassin matched only by her unwavering loyalty to S.H.I.E.L.D. 

However, this time was different. During the mission, the roles had been reversed. In a moment of instinct, you had thrown yourself between Natasha and the gun aimed in her direction, putting your own life on the line to protect hers. The only reason you could think of for making a reckless decision like that was that simple —  you couldn’t bear the thought of losing Natasha, even if you hated her with your whole heart. There was no hesitation as you acted on pure instinct, driven by a need to protect her.

As the warm water washed away the physical remnants of the mission, you emerged from the shower. Wrapping a towel around yourself, you stepped out of the bathroom, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as the steam-filled air gave way to the coolness of the room. 

Immediately, your gaze was drawn to Natasha, who sat on the edge of the bed, her expression a mix of surprise as she took in your appearance. You couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves at the intensity of her gaze, prompting you to tighten the towel around yourself in a subconscious attempt to shield your modesty.

Finally, Natasha broke the silence. “Sorry for staring. I.. uh-” She faltered for a moment, her words trailing off as she cleared her throat, seemingly struggling to find the right thing to say. “We have a problem. There’s only one bed.” 

Her words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for how to respond. You looked down at the singular bed Natasha was sitting on. You couldn’t help but feel a flush of embarrassment colour your cheeks. The prospect of sharing a bed with Natasha added a whole new layer of complexity to your already complicated relationship with her.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” Natasha suggested, standing up.

You felt a pang of guilt wash over you. You couldn’t shake the feeling that it wouldn’t be fair for her to sacrifice her comfort for your sake.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You interjected quickly. “You take the bed, I’ll sleep on the floor instead.”

Natasha crossed her arms, regarding you with a raised eyebrow. “I’m not being ridiculous. You’re the one that’s injured, you should get the bed instead.”

You shook your head. “I appreciate the concern but I really can’t let you sleep on the floor. We’re both equally exhausted from the mission and besides, you need a good night’s rest too.”

Natasha’s expression softened, her gaze meeting yours with a mixture of gratitude and stubbornness. “I can’t let you sleep on the floor either,” she countered, her voice firm.

You sighed, realizing that neither of you would easily back down from this standoff. “Alright, how about this,” you proposed. “We share the bed. It’s really small, so we’ll have to sleep pressed up against each other, but at least neither of us has to sleep uncomfortably.”

Natasha hesitated for a moment, considering your offer. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone softening with concern.

“I’m sure.” You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile. “Go take a shower. You smell.”

She chuckled softly at your attempt to lighten the mood. “Yes ma’am.”

As Natasha disappeared into the bathroom, you took a moment to collect your thoughts, relieved that the tension between you had dissipated, at least for now. Sharing a bed with her was certainly going to be an… interesting experience.

You reached for the bag you had dropped near the doorway and pulled out a fresh set of clothes. Quickly, you dressed yourself. As you settled into bed, you heard the door open as Natasha emerged from the bathroom. You were facing away from her as you felt the bed dip behind you when she got into bed. Feeling her presence behind you, you turned your head to offer her a small smile. 

“Can I… wrap my arm around you? It’s the only way we’ll both fit in this bed.” Natasha remarked, her voice laced with a hint of embarrassment. 

You chuckled softly, feeling the tension easing further as you nodded in agreement. “Sure, yeah, go ahead.”

As Natasha shifted closer, her front pressed up against your back and her arm gently encircling your waist, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies in your stomach at the sudden intimacy. Despite the awkwardness, there was a surprising comfort in the warmth of her touch, and you found yourself relaxing further in her embrace.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” Natasha murmured, her breath warm against your ear.

“Goodnight, Natasha.” You replied, a sense of contentment settling over you as you closed your eyes.

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[cherryslyce]

Unearthed | Regulus Black

Synopsis: You felt your world turn upside down at the revelation that your husband was a wizard, and you get a sense of deja vu when three teenagers appear on your doorstep seeking him out about a locket.

Pairing: Regulus Black x Muggle!Reader

Notes: Not canon-compliant! Word Count: 3.3k

The warbling of sparrows stir from the swaying trees and into your open window, bristles of morning wind brushing against your night clothes. You stare intently at the stove to your side, back pressed against your kitchen island as you mentally count. The glistening finish of your sage-colored tea kettle shone at you as you pace forward to remove the instrument off the flame.

Regulus was still asleep and the last thing you needed was to interrupt his rest because you wanted a cup of tea. As you steadily pour the water into your mug, your mind spirals into a wave of nostalgia. 

It had been nearly two decades now since the man stumbled into your life with proper-fitted clothes and a closet of skeletons. You hadn’t met Regulus by any conventional means, having found him stumbling around blindly in front of your house, clutching at his head. You remember that it took a few days for the boy to wake after that night, his lithe figure draped across your couch as the sun rose and set. Those days of waiting felt like centuries now that you thought about it. You had been springing back and forth, debating on running over to the closest town for a doctor, but luckily, the boy woke just as your resolve hardened. 

The first thing you had done when Regulus managed to sit up in your living space was offer him a cup of tea, trying to give yourself time to formulate questions as he steadied himself with reality again. He had informed you that night that he had been mugged, and had escaped into the fields within an inch of his consciousness. You had known that he was lying, recognizing that no one was even within a mile radius to do such a thing to him, but you somehow grew to care for him despite your suspicions. After many months of coexisting in your home, with Regulus taking on a good heft of the house chores, he had opened up to you about his family and home life. 

You both sat staring into the streaks of flames stirring in your fireplace, the room gradually becoming enveloped in a blanket of grey as the sun sank further along the horizon. 

“My parents were not good people.” Regulus murmured into the darkness, eyes trained on the pillars of heaty orange lapping at the blocks of wood and bark. 

You gulp and nod along, “Dead like mine, too?” 

“Dead to me,” Regulus supplied, hand reaching up to push his curls back as he continued, “I was not pulling your leg when I told you I had been mugged that night. My parents… they stripped me of my freedom and choices. There wasn’t a day that passed by where I could pinpoint my true aspirations or future. Not a day where I could lift the veil that disillusioned me since birth.” 

Your lips slant down at the abrupt confession, and you could feel your fingers itching to rest on his hand for comfort. Heaving in a tense breath, you bite the inside of your cheek as you let your curiosity bleed through, “And the rest of your family?” 

“The same, but my Uncle Alphie, he was different,” Regulus hesitates for a few moments, and you see his face darken, “so was my older brother.” 

Another year after that, he finally cleared up a majority of your suspicions by demonstrating his magic. You went to bed in denial for a week, unable to maintain eye contact with him the whole while as you felt your world flip inside out. Once the reality sank in, you had demanded answers about the secret society that he fled from, trying to wrap your head around the influx of information. 

“So… magic.” You breathe out, eyes flying around the perimeter of your kitchen as you lean back against the faded wooden counter. 

Regulus allows himself a small small before he drops his gaze down towards his dinner plate, “Yes, magic.” 

“Tell me more.” Your tone splintered into brusqueness, leaving no room for Regulus to dodge away.   

Regulus, to his credit, seems hardly perturbed by your request. Nodding jerkily, he takes a sip of water before motioning for you to sit across from him, “What would you like to know?” 

“Everything. Start from the beginning.” Your words are coated in anticipation, eyes glittering brightly as your mouth sets into a firm line. 

Laughter bubbles in Regulus’ throat and he shoots you an indecipherable grin, “As you wish.”

It was a slow process of acceptance, one convoluted with your developing feelings for the boy, eyes no longer seeing a stumbling, comatose boy, but a dependable and bright partner—a life partner. 

You both stewed in silent pining and agony for a few more months before the tension boiled and tipped over the precipice one night with a silent kiss by the fireside. As your relationship continued to bloom, you both decided to move toward the city with the last of your savings. 

“Are you certain?” Regulus whispers against your lips, eyes trailing across the plane of your face. 

You nod and bring a hand to thread through his hair, “I have the money. Besides, a change of scenery would be nice.” 

Regulus hums and catches your lips in a swift kiss, bringing his arms to wrap around your figure. 

Once you both edge back to breath, he gives you a boyish grin before musing, “Thank you.” 

“Good morning, love.” A groggy voice cuts through the air as you squeeze your tea bag against the side of your cup with a spoon. 

Swiveling your head over your shoulder, your mouth tugs upwards as you take in Regulus’ disheveled appearance, “Hello, dear. You’re up early today.” 

Regulus draws his arms around your waist before kissing your temple as he hums, “Couldn’t sleep without you.” 

You huff out a laugh before dropping a hand down to pat his arm, “You don’t have work today, right?” Your eyes drop down to your mug as your head flits through several thoughts about Regulus’ work duties, pleased that the company was flexible, yet you still vied for more. 

“Yeah, got the day off,” he murmurs, burying his face into your shoulder, “how should we spend it?” 

“The new bookstore around the corner?” You hum as you sip on your tea, noting that the brew of jasmine was much more potent than usual. 

Regulus shifts from behind you and maneuvers his chin over your shoulder, “Sounds like a plan. Which reminds me, I should get our bookcase built today, too.” 

“Lots to do.” You murmur absentmindedly, not bothered by the fact that Regulus was now inching to take a sip of your tea. 

He takes a small mouthful of the cooling beverage before brushing his lips against your cheek, “We have all the time in the world, love.” 

“That we do.”

The day seems to speed by in a blur, shrouded with an atmosphere of serenity and bright clouds. Your walk with Regulus through the idyllic streets is bundled with small lingering touches and peaceful silence. As you drift through the bookstore with your husband, you find yourself suppressing a smile as Regulus opts to carry the growing collection between you both, not a peep of complaint slipping past his lips as the sea of pages lengthen in height. 

He had always been good to you in that way, and at first you had chalked it up to him repaying you for providing sanctuary, but you soon learned that such manners were practically instilled in his bones. 

As you both trail towards the check-out line, an idea strikes you and causes you to hum audibly. Regulus peers over at you with an inquisitive gaze, curiosity barred by the need to shuffle forward in line. 

“Dear, we should invite Severus over for dinner.” You mutter in hopefulness, feeling a familiar mawkish pang bud in your chest. Regulus maintained few ties to his life before you, but Severus had been a near constant presence in your life ever since you encouraged him to invite someone to your wedding. You had initially been nonplussed by the doleful man, aware of the turmoil and despair that practically radiated off of him, but you grew to care for him nonetheless. 

“We have to build our bookshelf, no?” Regulus hums with consideration, eyes steeling as he notices a fussing customer holding up the line. 

You wave him off and lift a finger to run along the spines of books in his arms, “Severus can help us if anything. It’s good to get things done without certain abilities every once in a while.” 

Regulus’ lips flicker into a minute grin as he nods, “I’ll send for him when we return home, but he did say he would be rather occupied for a while last time we corresponded.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek at the thought, a tidal wave of unease washing over you, “I hope everything is alright.” 

“Severus is quite capable, he’ll be okay.” 

The lingering traces of worry that pervade your mind fail to dissipate as you walk hand-in-hand with Regulus, the both of you intent on heading home as quickly as possible as streaks of grey clouds roll across the sky. 

A sense of foreboding coils around your nerves as you tread closer towards your destination, head thrumming as the sound of your shoes clicking against the concrete permeate into the air. Regulus seems to share your feelings of inexplicable unease as you feel his grip tighten on your hand. 

As you both round the corner of the street and near your front door, you feel yourself stop in your tracks as three figures come into view. 

“Reg?” Your words are barely above a whisper as confusion ousts your previous apprehension. 

Regulus mirrors your feelings, and his perplexity is palpable as he slowly inches forward, “Just some kids, I think.” 

You both mutely compose yourselves as your pacing resumes. As your footsteps echo into earshot for the trio, they all spin around with wide eyes. Your eyes drop down towards the redheaded boy’s hand, gaze narrowing as you discern the outlines of a wand. 

Regulus seems to draw the same conclusions and he steps in front of you as his eyebrows furrowed together, “Hello, can we help you?” 

The three kids, probably no older than 18, share silent looks before the curly-haired girl steps forwards and nods, “Yes, hello. We’re looking for Regulus Black, do you happen to know where we can find him?” 

Your thoughts sputter and whirl as your gaze burns into Regulus’ head, trying to correctly assess the situation at hand. It was entirely possible that these newcomers were enemies seeking to drain Regulus of his life, but it was also plausible that they were completely harmless and you were overestimating the danger and animosity of wizards in general. 

Regulus seems to stew over the same dilemma, and you catch the calculative look that flashes across the girl’s face as she considers your husband’s hesitance. You decide to interject into the tense silence, not wanting to see the situation escalate, “Hello, I’m Y/N. Sorry, we don’t get many visitors in the neighborhood. Are you all a part of a youth group? A church? Unfortunately, if this has to do with fundraising, I don’t think the Black’s are interested, neither will most residents on this street. Perhaps, you can try with the Miller’s down over at that blue house.” 

You plaster on an assuring smile as you point over to yonder, feeling Regulus inch towards you until he was practically pressed against your back. The girl hesitates and looks over her shoulder at her companions as they silently begin to communicate again with wide eyes and emphatic eyebrow raises. 

Finally, one of the boys steps out and into direct view. Your eyes run across his face, catching against his round glasses and black fringe. Regulus tenses against you as the boy peers towards him with striking green eyes, and you’re almost too entranced by their vividness to stay on guard. 

“My name is Harry Potter.” 

The announcement does absolutely nothing for you, but you feel Regulus’ breathing hitch before he relaxes. Your husband brings his hand to rest atop your shoulder as he adjusts the paper bag in his grip, “I see the resemblance now, Harry Potter. Why don’t we all head inside?” 

You mask your bewilderment at the invitation, turning to send a questioning glance at Regulus. The man merely shoots you a look of conflict before he guides you towards the front door. 

As the trio awkwardly shuffle into your house, lingering in your entryway, you shoot them a small smile before beckoning them inside. You still had your reservations, but it seemed that Regulus recognized them — or Harry, to some extent. 

The girl slowly walks further into your home, stopping in front of your living room as she glances at the large box propped up against the wall. 

“Ah, we were planning on building a bookshelf.” You supply, bringing a hand to run across the nape of your neck. 

The girl nods and sends you a shy smile, “I’m Hermione Granger.” 

“Y/N Black.”

Your name seems to drop some intangible bombshell on the three young wizards as they all peer at you with wide eyes. Clearing your throat you turn towards the ginger as you gesture towards the couch, “You can all sit. And I don’t believe I got your name earlier.” 

They all trudge towards your couch and the boy nods towards you, disbelief still painting his face, “Ron Weasley.” 

“A Weasley and a Potter. Interesting.” Regulus’ voice emits from behind you, evidently finished with putting your newly purchased books away. He approaches the living room and stops to stand beside you, eyes assessing the three as they shuffle uncomfortably under your husband’s scrutinizing gaze. 

You turn to look at him, nudging your hip against his, “Care to explain?” 

“After we get answers,” Regulus murmurs, eyes trailing towards the loveseat, “Come, love.” 

As you both settle on the cushions, Regulus immediately bypasses formalities, still uncertain about your guests’ presence, “So, there must be a reason that we’re meeting this way, Mr.Potter.” 

Harry visibly gulps at the intense look in Regulus’ eyes, clearing his throat as he leans forward, “Yes, we’ve come because of this,” you tilt your head to the side as the boy fishes out a pendant from his pocket before he holds it up to you both. 

Regulus’ hand drops to your thigh as he hums, “I see.” His tone indicated a lack of surprise, yet an unwillingness to indulge. You knew Regulus’ ways of dancing around conversations well. 

“You have the real one.” Harry’s words are firm, eyes stormy as he seems to drift into thought. 

“So you have come to find me, and pray tell, how did you find me?” Regulus’ flinty words have Harry retreating back imperceptibly, eyes flickering away to consider his answer. 

“Well, you used quite a bit of magic to make this.” Harry clears his throat, slowly retracting the dangling locket from the air. 

Regulus quietly huffs through his nose, leaning back as he hums, “Tracking spells. Of course. I assume you’re here for the real deal then?”

Your mind was spinning in circles as you tried to keep up with the conversation, having half the mind to be disconcerted by how you both were effectively tracked down by three kids. Hermione licks her lips before leaning forward to address Regulus, eyes scanning him with confusion, “How did you survive that night, sir? If what Harry told us was true, that cave…” 

“You lot aren’t the sort to dawdle, are you?” Regulus muses, fingers brushing down to your knee, “To answer your question, Ms.Granger, I received some help that night.” 

“Help?” Ron interjected, eyebrows raised in perplexion as he glanced at Harry for an answer. 

At Regulus’ admission, you redirect your attention to him, lips furling into a faint frown as you question all the hidden facets of his life. Of course, you knew the foundational details about the magical world, and perhaps tidbits of his past, but the avenue of conversation unfolding before you was completely foreign. 

Regulus peers at you for a brief moment before he nods, “Yes. Severus helped me. He gave me the antidote for the potion inside of the basin.” 

Ron sputters at this. “Severus? As in Snape?” He spins to look at Hermione who looks equally dumbstruck, yet she steadily caps away her shock with a hum of acknowledgment. 

Harry nods slowly as he runs his thumb over the pendant in his palm, “He’s a traitor.” 

You gape at the uninhibited jab, wanting to insert yourself into the exchange to defend your friend. Regulus pats your knee before steadily riposting, “Self-servitude finds companionship in loneliness.”

“Is that the life motto for all you snakes?” Ron mutters, hands clasped together as he leans his elbows on his knees. 

Regulus seems hardly fazed by the boy’s acrid tone, eyes slowly rising to gaze away, “You know us Slytherins. Self-preservation and then some.” 

“To see the right and not to do it is cowardice.” Hermione blanches, mouth set into a thin line as she examines the wall opposite of her. 

“Confucius.” You muse, hand trailing down to cover Regulus’.

Regulus nods and gives Hermione a look of consideration, “Gryffindor, then.” The girl nods in confirmation before tilting her head, causing Regulus to continue his train of thought, “I was a bit partial to betting on Ravenclaw. I suppose you hear that often. That being said, I implore you to examine the nuances to Severus’ situation. I can assure you, he is not your enemy.” 

The three teenagers seem to sink into their thoughts and Regulus takes this as his cue to slowly push himself up, giving your knee a parting squeeze as he huffs, “I do hope you all know how to destroy it, and I hope you’re able to accomplish your endeavors, Harry Potter.” 

Without waiting for a response, Regulus cascades out of the room and up the stairs, only the sound of his muffled footsteps occupying the hushed atmosphere. You slap your palms against your knees as you begin to get up too, mouth slanting into a small smile, “Would any of you like some tea?” 

The shock from the impromptu visit from the three teens stew in the air long after they departed from your home, eyes glistening with determination as Regulus relinquished the mysterious locket to them. A lingering itch of curiosity occasionally swept through your head, but you figured that there would come a time when answers would be granted to you.   

You just hadn’t figured such a time would arise so soon after. Not even a week after meeting Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley, another novel face was taking residence by your front door. 

“Hello, may I help you?” You asked pleasantly, propping your hip against your door frame as you balanced a stack of towels by your side. 

The man surveys you with poorly concealed anxiety before he clears his throat and nods, “Hi, I’m looking for a Regulus Black. I was told he lives here.” 

You tilt your head and look over your shoulder at the clock, “Yes. He won’t be home for another hour or two. May I ask how you know him?” 

“My name is Sirius. Sirius Black. I’m, uh, his older brother.” 

Shock flashes across the forefront of your mind at the man’s words, and you barely thread together any semblance of composure as you nod, “Please come in, I think a much needed chat is in order.” 

“Thank you.” He breathes out, straightening his coat with a gulp. 

“My pleasure, Sirius. I’m Y/N Black, by the way. Which, I suppose, makes you my brother-in-law.” 

“Wait—I'm sorry, what?” 

masterlist

[euphoricfilter]

𝐒𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 | 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

more than you'll ever know

tags/ warnings: game designer! jungkook || non-idol au || established relationship || angst || slightly better communication (yippee) || slight comfort || the start of sex fiend jungkook

word count: 1.1k

notes: no taglist !!!!!!!

☆ collaboration with @bonny-kookoo 💞 ☆

☆ series masterlist

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆.

There’s beat of silence, seconds pulling out into what feels like minutes. The words repeat throughout your mind, sticky resentment clawing up your throat. His phone screen goes black, pitiful reflection of yourself staring back at you.

You swallow down the lump in your throat, pinch of an ache dispersing from between your eyes as you force down a wave of tears. Because what is worse than unfiltered sadness in moments like these, will always unfortunately be hard-headed pride.

Something a little duller aching in your chest, denial veiling your heart as you finally work up the courage to look at him.

His eyes are still wide, mouth open a little with shock, unsure to what you had seen, what he should say.

“Fuck you” you cry, throwing his phone at him, pain ebbing across the expanse of his chest as it hits him square over where his heart resides.

Before the words can even leave his mouth, you’ve scooted off the bed, scuttling into the bathroom. The door slams, click of the lock echoing in Jungkook’s ears.

He turns towards the bathroom door, glancing down at his phone. His tongue presses into his cheek when he sees part of the message, running a hand over his face.

He hears the door to the shower click shut, silence following in the moments after. His feet dig a little deeper into the carpet as he waits, listening if you were going to turn the water on, or if this was a false defence mechanism. More physical walls between the both of you as you slowly craft the more brittle ones of your mind. The tether that was holding the both of you together slowly fraying it seems. Days of watching you, eyebrows constantly marred, pretty face downturned, every thought locked inside the dark corners of your mind.

“Y/n?” he knocks on the door, “Open up”

He hears a hiccup of a sob when he presses his ear to the wood.

“Baby, you’re worrying me, let’s talk” he urges, “Come on”

You pull your knees up to your chest, hands pressing over your cheeks to dry them a little as you swallow down another sob.

“Go away” you shout, “I hate you”

You watch as he pushes at the door handle, another quickfire of knocks vibrating at the door. Somewhere in the back of your mind you wonder if he’s able to knock the door down with raw strength alone, if this was a sliver of respect, he held for you not ramming into it until he was stood before you.

“My love, as much as I’m sure a tantrum is wanted, we need to talk about whatever is happening” he tells you, tugging at the door until the hinges rattle a little.

“I don’t talk to cheaters!” you cry, bottom lip tucked between your teeth.

Jungkook pauses, cogs of his mind slowly whirring to life as his hand pauses, millimetres away from the door.

“Cheater?” he calls out, “Who’s cheating?”

Your feet pad against the tiled floor, lock clicking before you tug the door open. Jungkook’s lips tug down into a frown when he sees you, eyes red-rimmed, bleary with tears, cheeks shiny.

“I saw your phone Jungkook” you snivel, “If you didn’t wanna be with me anymore, why didn’t you say?”

Jungkook’s mouth tips open, utter disbelief wracking throughout his entire being.

“Woah hold on” he shakes his head, “First off, no one’s cheating”

“Your phone—” you start, blinking up at him when he gently presses his finger over your lips, “Don’t shush me” you push his hand away.

“But I need you to listen” he instead takes your hands, thumbs running over your knuckles.

“Maria, Jungkook. Who is she?”

“Oh!” he pauses, “She’s helping me with something”

You pull your hands away from him, stumbling back into the bathroom a little.

“What?” you deadpan, “Getting your dick wet?”

He splutters a little, “No! Why would you even think that?” he shakes his head frantically, “I don’t even know if people her age can get wet—” he stops when he catches your eyes, sheepish grin working its way onto his lips.

“That’s beside the point” his fists clench at his sides, unease still worming its way into his heart, “There has never been a point I haven’t wanted you. I don’t think you realise how much I love you, It’s scary sometimes”

The words catch in your throat, swallowed down when he opens his mouth again.

“Just, please trust me for a little longer. I know I’ve been busy; we haven’t spent much time together… I’ll make it up to you I just need a little bit longer.”

You press the palms of your hands into your eyes, alleviating some of the ache.

“I’m staying at a friend’s house tonight” you say, long drawn sigh easing some of the tension in your chest.

“Huh?” Jungkook’s eyes widen by a fraction, hands lifting to hold you, only to hover slightly.

“I’m sick of this constant push and pull” you murmur, “I’m tired, Jungkook”

He nods, swallowing as his eyes flit across your face.

“If that’s what you want…” he nods, “I’ll drive you there. Do you want to eat before you go?”

You glance up at him, “It’s fine, I’ll take the bus”

He shakes his head, “It’s getting late, I’d prefer if you let me take you. You don’t even need to talk to me on the way… you can choose what we listen to as well” he adds.

The both of you just stand there for a moment, a fraction of the weight on your shoulders lifted.

“Hey” he murmurs, “Come here”

You step towards him, an arms distance still between the both of you.

The faintest smile pulls onto his lips, “Closer”

“What if I don’t want to?” you say, fingers tugging at the hem of your shirt.

“Then you don’t have to” he shrugs, “You know you’re in charge of your own comfort. Just wanted a hug before you left, I’ve missed you”

You swallow, fingers itching to hold onto him. You take another step forward, arms slipping beneath his own. You press your face into his chest, bottom lip quivering as your forehead presses over his heart.

“You know I love you right?” he whispers, arms squeezing you that little bit tighter.

You shrug, eyes closing when he rests his cheek against the top of your head.

“More than you’ll ever know” he hums, “I’ll make you something to eat while you pack a bag, okay?”

And with that you’re alone, phantom kiss he left you with, lingering on your heated cheek.

[eyesxxyou]

❝ sunshine pt.2 ❞ (hobie brown x male!reader)

｡ﾟ･ ¡ content. hobie x male!reader. reader pretends to hate dislike hobie. gay longing. denial of feelings. a little internalized homophobia. leg humping. handjob thru underwear. lots of kissing. hobie being a lil shut. weeks of avoiding hobie become moot when you and him find yourselves alone in a bathroom together.

wc: 3.6k

You wish you hated Hobie Brown.

It would be so easy, wouldn't it? He kissed you, did unspeakable things to you in that closet. And you let him. You enjoyed even, you relished in the way his mouth felt, his lithe fingers sinking into your flesh. the way he cooed in your ear. It would be easy to write him off completely, hate him for the rest of your life, his smug face, his hooded eyes that gaze into yours and hold secrets only known between you, him, and God.

But you don't hate him. You can't. You hate yourself more than anything. You should have never indulged him, never let him put a single finger on you. Because now, when you lie in bed at night and close your eyes, all you can see is him on his knees, feel your cock sliding down the pocket of his throat while he looks up at you through his lashes with those dark eyes of his. You can't get it up any other way. Women don't do it for you anymore.

The moment the two of you left the closet you told everyone to leave. You picked up Hobie’s clothes and shoved them into his arms before sending him out the door with the rest of them. You never once looked him in the eye.

Your friends asked Hobie what had happened inside the hour you spent together and Hobie, being quite the convincing liar, simply shrugged as if he had no idea what had set you off. “Nothin’. Think ‘e migh’ be claustrophobic.” But he knew. You both would always know, no matter how hard you attempted to scrub it from your mind. He’d keep it a secret if you did. He might start shit from time to time but he wasn’t into outing people. He’d keep the secret for you if you didn't want it.

You know better. You know yourself. If you were alone with him, something like that would happen again and you wouldn't know what to do with yourself.

So you avoided Hobie like the plague after that night. Every invitation to hang out was promptly turned down with an excuse that was only a thinly veiled lie, obvious to no one except for Hobie who knew better than to accept that you were sick 3 weeks in a row.

It was understandable. He had made you question everything you had known about yourself all within a matter of an hour. Why would you want to be around him? You feared him and everything he symbolized to you.

“It’s Hobie, isn't it?” Your friend, Riri, sighed. She had come in person to get you out of the house. There was no pretending to be sick, no feigning exhaustion. She came and she called you out so accurately you feared that Hobie might have told her what had happened in the closet. Your chest squeezed and you lost your breath, terrified that she may know.

You scoffed, anxiety swelling within your chest as you pretend to roll the question off your shoulders. “Hobie? Why would I care about Hobie?”

“Everyone knows you can't stand him. And you haven't been the same since we stuck y’all in the closet. Did he say somethin’ to you?” You looked into her eyes for any semblance of your secret and found nothing. You wished you could tell her, your shame, your pleasure, the absolute heaven you felt being in that closet with Hobie. You’d just embarrass yourself.

“No, that's ridiculous. I find him just as endlessly irritating as I always have.” You reach up, tug at your hair softly, and shift your gaze. You were telling on yourself. Fuck, if you didn't agree now, she’d definitely know that there was something up with you and Hobie. “I’ll go, it’s whatever. Just let me get ready.” Your voice was quick, snappy, you were definitely acting suspicious. But you hoped you conceding to going would distract her enough to forget.

It did. Your friends weren't the most aware bunch.

That's how you ended up here, standing in the midst of a true punk party. There was a mosh pit in the front, people inches away from getting punched in the face, starting an all-out brawl. Most were drunk or high off shitty beer and even shittier drugs.

Hobie was on stage performing. You heard his voice before you saw him, the way it echoed in your ears and left you delirious. Riri dragged you into the crowd, just far away from the mosh pit to not get trampled over, and you saw him. His dark skin glistening in a thin layer of sweat, fingers meticulously strumming at his guitar, lips pressed against the mesh of the microphone as if he were attempting to kiss it like he kissed you.

He wore a plaid skirt, his muscle shirt was just cropped enough to reveal the scant of his abdomen and the hair on his slender naval. You saw him and all you could think about was how you wanted to touch him. You wanted his black-painted lips on your neck, wanted to bury your fingers in the new growth of his hair, wanted your cock in his mouth once again and maybe to put his in yours. 

The thoughts terrified you but what frightened you even more was that when you came to, Hobie was looking at you. Smug, careless, beautiful, like he knew just what you were thinking about and he was thinking the very same thing.

Face hot and embarrassed over being caught, you averted your gaze. You turned on your heels and swiftly left Riri to make your way to the bar. You needed a drink, or five, so that maybe your nausea could be attributed to something worthwhile. But no matter how far from the stage you found yourself, Hobie’s voice was still in your ear, teasing your senses, tempting your body. You felt hot and parched. 

“Give me the strongest you have.” You asked the bartender and pressed your face into your hands.

Hobie played three of his songs before his time was over, the entire time you watched from the corner of your eye. Watched the way he swayed, jumped, wrecked the stage, a force to be reckoned with. You watched him and his bandmates, your friends, walk backstage and felt relief. You wouldn’t have to hear his voice everywhere you went. You hadn’t considered that meant that they would all gravitate over to you to have a chat over where you’ve been for nearly a month now.

They came over with Riri, the unknowing traitor, Hobie standing taller than everyone else in the back. They hugged you one by one, slapped your back, kissed your cheeks, told you they were happy you finally agreed to hang. You would have loved to see them if Hobie hadn’t tossed his arm over your shoulder and pulled you into him. 

He smelled like musk and faint, fragrant cologne, your nose pressed to the side of his chest. You look up from where you sat on your barstool only to find him already smiling broadly down at you. “Well, well, look who decided to grace us with they presence. Miss me, sunshine?” He was so smug, so proud. If only you could kiss that look from his stupid face and leave him breathless for once instead of the other way around.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes at him, shrugging his arm from your shoulders. “Don’t get so full of yourself.” You downed the rest of your drink and requested another one. Hobie came, sat on the stool beside you, and told the barkeep to add all your drinks to his tab.

“Ya been avoidin’ me, sunshine?” Hobie only really seemed interested in talking to you. The others chatted aimlessly amongst themselves. They didn’t seem to notice the way Hobie’s eyes glazed over you, the way his smile seemed a little different when it was directed at you. They also didn’t notice the way he placed his hand on your thigh, rubbing soft circles into your flesh, the way his digits fingered the rips at your jeans.

“Whyever would I be avoiding you, Hobie?” You grabbed his hand to stop his gentle assault on your thigh and he took the opportunity to lace his fingers in with yours.

“I don’ know. Why are you avoidin’ me?” His hand was hot and rough with callouses. If only he’d touch you a little more. Slide his hand up your arm, brush over your neck. You could feel your body growing warmer by the moment. You couldn’t be trusted with him, couldn’t trust yourself for that matter.

You tore your hand from his. “You know exactly why. I hate it when people play dumb.”

“Jus’ add i’ to the long list of all the reasons ya hate me.”

Oh, if only it were so easy to hate. You’d hate him till the day he died. You’d hate him beyond the grave. You’d hate him until the world combusted into flames and everyone burned with it. But it wasn’t so easy. It was actually quite hard to hate someone you longed so carnally for. If you could rid yourself of him for good, you would in a heartbeat.

Hobie ordered himself a nice large glass of beer and leaned in. “Was i’ so bad, what we did? Ya seemed to enjoy i’ in the moment.”

Your eyes grew wide, glancing about to ensure your friends hadn’t heard him.

Hobie scoffed. “Please, too loud in here. They all wrapped up in ‘emselves to pay attention t’us. Look here, sunshine.” He reached out and gently grasped your chin to make you look at him. His touch was like fire all throughout your body. Looking him in the eyes lit something in the pit of your stomach. "Ya look good t'nigh'."

His drink came and he took a sip of the froth at the top while looking at you, his gaze all affectionate and tender. The way one lover would look at another. He didn’t even have to touch you to get you riled up because you both knew him looking at you through his lashes like that was just the way he looked at you when he kissed the tip of your cock.

You needed air. It was suddenly so stuffy where you were, you felt like you were suffocating. The ache of your cock made your jeans tighten. You felt nauseous.

You must have looked crazy standing so abruptly. Your friends attempted to call your name as you pushed your way through them and searched wildly for the nearest exit. The best you could find was a bathroom sign. That would have to work.

The bathroom was grimy and covered in graffiti. Your boots suck to the floor when you walked and you’re sure you could see a leftover powdery substance on the side of the sink. You turned on the water and cupped your hands beneath it to gather some and splash it on your face. 

Nothing between you and Hobie had to change. If he would simply stop provoking you, you could ignore everything else. The way your eyes lingered on his exposed body, the way his lingered on yours, the memory of your hand wrapped around his cock, stroking till he came on your tummy, the way you came in his mouth and he drank it all up.

You pressed your hand against the bulge in your jeans and moaned softly at the pressure. Then there was a knock at the door, startling you out of your momentary pleasure and reminding you that you were indeed in a public restroom.

“Oi, sunshine! Ya alrigh”?” Hobie. He just simply couldn’t let you have a moment of reprieve. Readjusting yourself in your pants so it's not so noticeable, you opened the door only to be met with Hobie leaning against the frame. He looked at you, questioning, before inviting himself right in. “Le’s talk.”

“Talk? You wanna talk?” You slammed the door shut and locked the door behind the two of you out of instinct. “We have nothing to talk about, Hobie. Absolutely nothing.” Your demeanor was cold, your lip curled. It all belied how much you needed him to stop looking at you that way. With heavy eyes and a touch of a smirk on his lips.

Hobie quirked a pierced brow at you. “Who’s playin’ dumb now? Ya tink I ‘aven’t noticed how you’ve been actin’? Yer meaner than usual.” He approached you. Slowly. He looked at you, watched to stand your ground. “God, yer down bad, aren’cha?”

Your face was hot, cock hard in your pants. You said not a word. Let him get close, really close, leaning into you while staring into your eyes.

“It's okay, though. I like ya mean.”

You grabbed him by the shirt, hands tight in the fabric as you turned him around and pushed him against the wall. “You think this is fucking funny, huh?” You shook him a little, pressed his thin body to the door, your eyes aflame with passion and anger. Hobie just looked at you, smiling, with his hands up as if to surrender to you, his eyes heavy with seduction.

You hated that look, so cocky and proud, fucking gorgeous. 

You were rough when you kissed him. You knew you couldn't be trusted with yourself or with him. You knew it would all lead to this. And God if it didn't feel good. His lips were so soft, sweet, a little salty from his sweat. You held his shirt a little tighter, pulled him a little closer and his hands settled on your hips.

You let him slide his tongue into your mouth, let him slide his hands up and down the length of your body, slide beneath your shirt. His thumbs looked into your pants and tucked his knee between your legs to press against the growing bulge in your pants.

Just like that, he took control of you. You melted into him, licked into his mouth as you moaned, rutting yourself against his knee. You were desperate, panting, needy. You showed all your cards just as they were dealt and now you had nothing but an empty hand and a hard cock.

“I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout'cha.” Hobie panted into your mouth, hands pawing at you. Your kiss was sloppy, filled with swapped saliva and sticky tongue. “Missed ya. Looks like ya missed me too.” He chuckled softly as you licked his bottom lip, sighing with pleasure when he pressed his knee harder into you.

You should stop this. You should be stopping yourself. But you simply couldn't control yourself and you didn't know if that said more about you or about him. You were insatiable. You were angry. You were horny out of your mind. 

Hobie let you suck on his lip and tongue, chuckling the whole time. It made you stop, your hands tightening up in his shirt. “Is something funny?” You pushed him against the wall harder, your body pressed against his, your aching cock against his knee. You tried to play tough, your face firming up, but Hobie already witnessed how desperately you've been wanting him this entire time.

Hobie sighed softly, looking at you, smiling broadly. “Nah, nah, ‘m laughin’ ‘cause ya definitely like me, sunshine. Just as much as I like you.” He leaned in, pressed his lips to yours, and kissed you softly. Lips latching, tongue licking, teeth nipping, you didn't resist him as much as you thought you would. You hadn't imagined for it to feel so good the second time around.

“Lemme help ya out, sunshine.” Hobie pressed his knee harder into your crotch and you crumbled, panting into his mouth with your eyes squeezed shut. One of your hands unballed itself from his shirt and found itself settled against the apple of his throat, pressing and squeezing while you humped his leg into oblivion.

The friction was delicious. The pressing and grinding with his tongue down your throat left you a little delirious. You were lightheaded and feared you might faint if he kept holding your waist like he was, moving your hips for you, pressing you harder.

“Keep goin’, pretty boy. Ya got i'.” Hobie crooned into your mouth as your lips fiended for another kiss, a lick, something, anything to satiate the burning in your chest, the fire all over. His fingers sunk into the meat of your thighs with his soft grip that meant to gently coax you towards your climax.

How embarrassing. To cum in your jeans just from humping a leg. But God, if this didn't feel good, if Hobie wasn't doing you so right. You pushed him harder against the wall, squeezed his throat a little tighter as you ground yourself into him.

Your free hand slid down his front and beneath his skirt to feel the bulge of his erection through his underwear. You weighed him in the palm of your hand, clumsy massaging and fondling. You didn't know how to handle him. Attempting to conjure up the way you touched him the last time you two felt each other, you rubbed him, felt the wet patch where precum leaked and soaked into the fabric of his underwear and stroked his tip.

Hobie shuddered, one that rattled through his entire body. He gripped you harder, bruising your hips and thighs and he drove you further into his knee and left you shivering. You squeezed him in your palm and he moaned.

It was pathetic how easy it was to forget how much you wanted to hate him. Your brain was foggy with pleasure and need. Your hands groped at each other with a fiendish desire. Hobie nipped at your bottom lip. “Fuck, jus’ like tha’.”

You were so close. Your lips broke apart from his with a string of saliva connecting the two of you. Your head felt back, exposing the supple flesh of your throat which Hobie greedily attacked with lips and teeth and tongue. “Gonna cum f’me? Hmm, sunshine? Go ‘head ‘n make a mess f’me.”

You whined, your body rocking back and forth with the waves of your orgasm. You hadn't cum in your pants since you were a teen and never before because of another man. You felt as though you should be humiliated but you were so wrapped up in Hobie's sweet scent and the way he moaned into your neck as you pressed your hand into him and felt his cock twitch in your hold.

You rubbed him harder, faster, determined to get him to come undone the way he had your world falling apart. Hobie chuckled against your throat. “Tryna get me t’cum, pretty boy?” His lips peppered kisses to your lovely throat. You nodded, your hand stroking his throat with your thumb. “Give it to me, please.” Oh how the mighty fall.

Hobie faltered a bit when you squeezed his balls in your hand, whining into you like a puppy. “Beg.” He sighed softly against your neck. “Beg fo i'.”

"Please, please. Shit, Hobie, give it to me " Overstimulated, his knee still pressed into the wet spot in your sticky jeans, your hips still rutting into the mess you’ve made of yourself, you jerked him off through his underwear, stroking it rapid, blundering twists of your wrist. Hobie liked how inexperienced you seemed, he found it amusing how hard you tried to please him.

You knew he was just on the edge of an orgasm by the way his moan lowered an octave. He sang for you like he sang on stage, your own private show. His hands gripped you with an impossible strength, tongue lavishing over your throat. He nosed at the curve of your jaw and moaned into your ear as he came in your hand, leaking out into the cotton of his underwear.

You were left panting, stroking at each other in tender touches. You were uncharacteristically affectionate, desperate for it. You needed his hands, his lips, his soft chuckles, his pretty smile. God, you were losing it.

“Fuck-” You pulled away from Hobie, your entire body coiling away from him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” It all came back to you like a tsunami. How did you let this happen? Again no less. What in the world were you thinking? What the hell has he done to you?

“Sunshine, calm down. It's okay.” Hobie reached out for you but you almost fell over trying to get away from him. Your hands gripped the sink for stability and in hopes to ground yourself in reality. “No, no, it’s not okay, Hobie! We need to stop this.”

“Whatever we have goin’ on between us-”

“There's nothing going on between us,” you insisted. “There should be nothing going on between us.” Hobie scoffed at you, crossing his arms over his chest. “Would’ja get ova y’self? We didn' make each other cum by accident. This keeps happenin’ fo’ a reason. We like each other.” He motioned between the two of you, his eyes softening.

“I can't do this, Hobie. I can't give you what you want.” You rushed past him and escaped out of the bathroom door before Hobie had a chance to catch you. It was a mistake to come out. You should have left the moment Hobie touched you. 

It was just your luck to run into Riri on the way out the door. You bumped into her just as you neared the exit. She had whipped around, ready to let you have it until she saw that it was you and worse, when she saw the tears streaming down your face. As if this night couldn't get even more embarrassing.

You said nothing to her. You simply pushed past her and left the bar with her calling after you. Hobie approached behind her, watching you leave with sulken shoulders and smudged makeup.

“Shit.”

[pokegalla]

Requested/Traded by @veiled-rebel

FINALLY✨

I’ve been dying to write for this guy✨

Lucifer pinning for a skittish and wary S/O

* Ok getting his attention in general is a surprise for ANYONE. Even HIM. Honestly for the first half of him liking you is him in heavy denial, thinking he’s finally lost his mind, and making rubber ducks through his five stages of grief. Until finally yes, he realizes the feelings are real the moment he leaves his office to see you again. Oh crap-

* I mean of course he’s gonna try talking to you! He wants to know more about you! Though his first greeting wasn’t too great. He tries to be suave by leaning against a table, winking and saying “Hey bitch✨” but that made you scatter away with a bow of your head to say hello. Shit. Was it something he said?

* He tries to gather a bit more information after that and realizes that you’re ALWAYS that skittish. Had him worried there, he thought he scared you off- oh. Oh never mind. He also heard you were wary of HIM too. But then he realized why. He’s the king of hell. Shit any sinner would be scared shitless if he personally sought them out! Dammit he didn’t even think of that!

* So at wits end….he actually goes to his daughter Charlie to help him out. Man she was EXCITED to help. She and Vaggie personally helped him in what to say then introduced him to you so it would be a little less scary for you. The king himself was still nervous and messed up a few times but he decided to be honest and admit that he’s genuinely interested in you with a soft smile and a rose in his hand. Thaaat had thorns and it cut your finger- you were wanting to leave but Lucifer stopped you and took your hand. That is when you personally saw a rare side of him: A gentle and caring side as he healed your hand.

* You were….speechless really. I mean you never expected such a soft look upon the king of hell’s face! So once he healed your hand, you shyly wrote on a piece and handed it to him before scattering off. Lucifer was disappointed….until he realized you gave him your number.

* You could hear his cheering from hallways away. Such a goofy lil guy. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea….

Mini story time!!!

“Ok. You fucking GOT this. You won them over. You can send them a text. Just be cool….,” He was pacing around his room before finally sitting down to message you.

Oh dammit….! What should he send…? Hi bitch obviously didn’t work to well. Maybe something different? He looked around and spotted something he made earlier. YES! That would be a fun conversation starter! So he took a picture and sent it to you!

You yawn as you go to lay down and notice a message. You gulp and nervously check your messages, “Ok. Calm down….it’s probably nothing bad- ……what the?” He sent you a picture of a…..rubber duck? And it was designed kinda like you! You took a moment to process it. “….that is so fucking adorable-“ So you sent him a heart emoji and said you loved it.

He practically JUMPED to check up on your message before combing through his hair nervously, “They….Like it? THEY LIKE IT! FUCK YEAH!!! OH SHIT-“ He fell back from his chair but happily chuckles as he was too happy to care. Charlie secretly checked in on you two and saw you both smiling.

Shes just glad you two are happy ❤️

[snazzi-strawberri-artz]

YEAHHH OC DESIGNS BABEY!!!!! OK SO LIKE THESE PPL ARE LIKE THE MAGIC COUNCIL AND ITS THEIR JOB TO GUIDE AND PROTECT THEIR PEOPLE YAYAY!!!!

(NOTE: I DID NOT MAKE KAZEMIS PATTERN I FOUND IT HERE)

Character lore and ramblings below!!

ARKENAS MY BELOVED!!! Hes Filipino because i said so JKSDHDS

Hes wearing a zoot suit which is a suit originated from african americans and would become popular with italians, filipinos, mexicans etc AND LIKE ITS PERFFECT FOR ARKENAS Because this type of suits were typically worn by performers due to how its easy to move around in AND HE himself is a performer as hes a very well known magician and illusionist!

Hes more of a sillay guy always looking to entertain people, but his magical performances got so good that people were struggling discerning what was real or not, enough that he was was given the title of master!

He always tries to befriend Magnus but always kinda fails at it JKHDHSD

Magnus!!! He wasnt always so serious and brooding, in fact, he was a slick playboy back in the days. But because of uhhh many plotlines and backstory that will take too long to explain hes always feels sad and empty despite not knowing why...😲

IMOGEN MY BELOVED!!! She comes from Ireland!!

Shes known for her experimental ways of doing Alchemy, for not sticking to rules and regulations and doing whatever she wants, and in that way she had become the embodiment of alchemy in a way it is all about risky experimentation and she goes through with it because she likes the thrill!!

Because of this she had done many contributions to the field of Alchemy, despite being deemed "unproffesional" by others

She also likes to do flirty teasing with Valentina because she thinks its cute how she reacts and crumbles HEHE

VALENTINA!!!!! ONE OF MY FAV DESIGNS IVE EVER MADE🥺 Im so happy with the way she looks!! She was initially gonna be the master of ALL the elements, but because her design turned out too look more Earthy and Firey, i only made her master of that!

She has like rich posh aristocracy vibes and owns various fashion businesses while also doing her duties as a magicia master! 🙏 SLAY

As for her design i really wanted to give of posh businesswoman whos also fashionable!

Lowkey has a crush on Imogen but is in denial <3 Valentina is also besties with Kazemi and they like to gossip all the drama over tea <3

KAZEMI MY WIFE MY EVERYTHING I LOVE YOUUUUU AUGH Shes also one of my fav designs along with Valentina!! Shes also from Japan >:]

Ive actually done quite abit of research on her name AND KAZEMI IS LITERALLLY THE MOST PERFECT NAME BECAUSE IT MEANS WATER OR WIND WHICH IS WHERE SHES MASTER AT...,, AND TOMIKAWA MEANS RICHES AND ALSO RIVER OR STREAM AND LIKE IT RELATES TO HER BECAUSE SHES WORKED SO HARD TO GET TO HER POSITION AS SHE ALWAYS KNEW SHE WAS DESTINED FOR PROSPERITY AND WEALTH RAAAA but if anyone like actually knows more abt japanese names and thinks that the name could be improved PLEASE DONT HESITATE TO DM 🙏

But yes due to how she more on the polite and demure side and her magic being water and wind, shes more underestimated and seen as more 'weak' than the others. But just how the seas can be gentle and also be a terrifying, great force, she can be too 🥺

Shes trying to court Samara btw 🥺 she relates to Samara in a way where their magic is underestimated due to how it looks "harmless", but both actually having the ability to do great harm if you know how to do it. Shes seen that Samara can do harm and damage if she wanted to, and she was like 'i want her" JKSDHJSHD

SAMARA!!! 🥺 Shes more of the precise, rational, proffesional type! Always wanting everything to be clean and pristine, thats why she mainly wears white. Shes also Arabic :D

Shes known as one of the greatest healers in the world, known for her quickness and precision, basically knows every body part and muscle and veins and how to heal it as well as how to damage it!! ^-^

As for her veil type i used a niqab! Well a half niqab specifically, as it doesnt cover the entire half of the body. Their design is influenced by Arabic fashion as well as like nurse doctor outfits in the 1900s :D

Figuring out her name was a bit tricky because im not familiar with Arabic names and i also didnt want to go to babynames.com for it because i know its a bit more complicated but i managed to get help from friends who are more qualified n knowledgable about arabic names😭 THANK YOU @lastcookieontheplate MY DEAR FRIEND

AND AND she doesnt want to admit it but she gets flustered and blushy whenever Kazemi does her courting attempts <3 HEEHEE

ANYWAYS THATS ALL OF EM!!!!! Say "BERRI IS SO PRETTY AND COOL" If youve reached this far!

[fumifooms]

Firefly Wedding is so…

It’s so

It’s them. It’s "It’s just a firefly, they’re meant to die soon. Why should I care about the sick, or the poor?"

It’s "I was purposely trying to scare you and push you away to see how far you were willing to go with your act, how desperate you were to play with my feelings as if I was a fool, but it didn’t work."

It’s "I know you’re just using me but now I care. Please keep using me. I need you to need me."

It’s choosing to give her her freedom anyways. Because your love is no longer all about you, no longer selfish. Because this love isn’t just a shallow balm to soothe your complexes anymore.

It’s being betrayed, finally facing the lies and no longer pretending you both don’t know that this is a farce, but desperately wanting to keep it going anyways. It’s "I should hate you now. Why don’t I? Hey, tell me we’ll go through with the plan, tell me you’ll marry me after all. Otherwise, why am I still here? Why don’t I want to leave? You act like you don’t need me but I still need you."

Like that’s so revolutionary for a yandere story. The self-delusion is strong, denial that things have changed despite it being impossible to truly believe, BUT HE STAYS. It’s no longer selfish 😭😭

"I don’t care about you anymore, I won’t help you. Get yourself killed for all I care." <- Jumps to her rescue 3 milliseconds later when she almost falls down a ladder/roof. It happens twice. The ‘lying and trying to emotionally distance yourself from something to protect yourself and not get hurt’ defense mechanism is blatant and it’s failing really bad.

It’s "My sense of duty and goals to have accomplished something useful in my short life are making me do this, but I do want you to stay with me." The yandere stuff here gets turned on its head because what he says is empty where it matters and meaningful where it matters. It’s knowing that if Satoko asks him not to kill anyone he won’t, but knowing that he won’t give up on her no matter what, even if she’s unattainable, even if she’s sickly, even if she pushes him away like just before. It’s so thinly veiled for "I’m determined to see my goal through, but that’s not what I want. If you just so happen to take me away and I don’t try to run away hard enough then we can elope and be free. I want to have an excuse to leave with you. Please give up on marrying me. Please don’t. I want that, but I can’t."

It’s "If I didn’t burn brightly in my short firefly life, then what was the point?"

Except that burning brightly doesn’t have to mean making big achievements, or being useful to your family.

It can be living happily, living for the ones you love, fighting for them. It can be worth to risk it for things that actually matter to you.

It’s giving your heart to someone, figuratively and literally. To lend it to them even if it might get used or battered, for as long as it beats to use your body to protect them, even if you have to sacrifice yourself. A love that burns bright into a bonfire before they both turn to ashes. Unwise but wholehearted.

It’s despite even that, needing grandiose gestures to be able to trust that this is real. It’s needing external cues that prove it to feel safe in their love existing, other people to confirm that he’s not crazy, that this is happening and this is how they both feel. Their love has been fake, both being a warped love and being a lie, only being out of necessity or because the other was the only one willing to offer it to them, offering comfort, safety, support and care. And showing that they care is the most loving of all It’s despite everything falling back into old habits that "Oh if she was miserably worried for me then that means she’s not indifferent to me! That’s good!" And then once again being taken aback by her, by her earnestness and by her will. Because oh, no, this goes deeper than that. She cares. It’s love.

It’s opening your heart up to love, and both being punished and rewarded for it.

But most of all it’s

And it being the most loving thing he’d ever heard

Firefly Wedding is so…

And yet it’s also

The complicated and hurtful nature of love and the joy and light it brings are two sides of the same coin, because that’s what inevitably happens when you care about something. But caring about a firefly isn’t a waste even however short lived it is, or how hard the loss will inevitably hit you. Isn’t their light just such a wonder to witness?

[hogwartslegacyreactions2]

Hey, I'm pretty sure that this was asked before, but I can't find the post.

What if MC died in the repository instead of professor Fig?

(I'm sorry, but I'm in an angsty mood)

I love your posts, and thanks

A/N: I do have vague recollection of answering a similar prompt once upon a time, but nothing wrong with a reprisal!

HLC REACT TO MC DYING IN THE REPOSITORY

WARNING: angst, death, grief

Dark ancient magic flew violently through the air around MC. The whirlwind of human agony consumed them as they released silver blue light from their wand. The magic thrashed and roared as MC expelled more and more effort to contain the chaos. Cracks started to form along the length of their wand.

Time slowed for them. MC could see Fig's silhouette just beyond the veil. The hundreds of young souls above them weighed heavy on their conscience. If they can't do this, everyone will die. They had to use all of it.

MC closed their eyes and whispered their goodbye. A light even brighter than the one from their wand emerged from their chest. The ancient magic within them burst forth with the fury of dragonfire. The silver light merged with the darkness, and as quickly as it had appeared, the magic vanished.

MC was gone. Their broken wand was all that remained.

SEBASTIAN SALLOW: He has officially lost everything. After losing his uncle, Anne, Ominis, and MC all at once, he's cracking. They can't be gone. Not them. They were too powerful to just vanish. He just has to find them. Yes. That's what he needs to do. He leaves Hogwarts. He MUST find them. Then Anne will see. Then Ominis will know. What he did was worth it.

OMINIS GAUNT: He rarely speaks anymore. The silence in his life has become so oppressive it took his own voice. The good life he thought he had was nice while it lasted, but now it's all come apart. It's only a matter of time before he loses Anne too, and when that happens...he doesn't know what he's going to do with himself.

ANNE SALLOW: She doesn't know how to feel about MC's death. On the one hand, they were trying to be a good friend to her and her brother but on the other...they also enabled Sebastian in his treachery. She's so very tired of the pain. She just wants to go to sleep.

IMELDA REYES: Well, damn. Mc was the closest thing to a friend she had in years. Someone competitive but friendly and fun to have around. They could dish out as much sass as she could, and she respected them for it. She cries a little at the end of year feast.

NATSAI ONAI: She should have been there. She could've done something! Why didn't they tell her!? She would've had their back! She....she...she breaks down into sobs so intense, even her mother can't comfort her. Her best friend was dead. Her heart was shattered and it would never be whole again without MC.

GARRETH WEASLEY: What? No. Nonono. Not them. That's impossible. They couldn't be dead. They're too strong to be.... He's in denial all the way until the MC's memorial service at the end of year feast. Then he breaks down. A bit of his fire died with MC.

LEANDER PREWETT: He wasn't super close to them, but he was still quite fond of them. They were a real friend. He hopes they're at peace and raises a goblet in their honor.

AMIT THAKKAR: He feels cold and numb all at once when he hears the news that MC died in the attack. He'd grown to care about them. He cursed himself for not spending more time with them when they were around.

EVERETT CLOPTON: He and MC didn't talk much outside of flying class but he had liked them. It was a shame he didn't get to know them more. He doesn't feel like eating when the feast is presented.

POPPY SWEETING: She hadn't cried this much since she left her parents. She finally made a friend, and just like that, they were gone. She doesn't know if she could make another friend again if she wanted to. Was she just doomed to lose every human connection she made?

ELEAZAR FIG: He wholeheartedly and inconsolably blames himself. Even if this fate couldn't be avoided, why did they have to die so young? He can't stand to hear the words "ancient" and "magic" in the same sentence at the same time anymore. It sends him into a dissociative trauma spiral.

He finds MC's wand. It's snapped in the middle with bits of wood frayed outward like the very core of the wand exploded. The two pieces are held together by the slightest sliver of wood.

He retires from teaching at Hogwarts. He doesn't trust himself with the care of students anymore. He doesn't trust his own judgment. He's tortured every night by the survivor's guilt taunting him that he should have done more. He should have protected them. He shouldn't have let them go as far as they did. They weren't ready. They couldn't handle the power they were forced to control. It takes everything in him to not attempt to destroy the map room with the portraits of the Keepers. He just leaves.

But every once in a while... On quiet moonless nights.... When he sees MC's wand displayed with Miriam's, he hears a whisper. A quiet breathy whisper that he could swear on his life sounds like MC. He chalks it up to the fact that he could be going mad from grief, but it's still strikes him as strange... If he looked at the wand hard enough... He could swear he sees a blue glow...

[dazaiandhislovelybandages]

9. "If I'm desperate it's all for you." For Nanami?

Last Call {Nanami Kento}

When the battle in Shibuya reaches its peak, Nanami decides to give you one last call just in case

A/n: so... since the request wasn't really specific, I took it upon myself to figure out the rest of the plot.

Pairing: Nanami x sorcerer!reader

Trigger warnings: mentions of character death, mentions of anxiety and panic that are purely related to the situation,

Truth be told, neither you nor Nanami had expected the events of Shibuya to go that far. Having Gojo there had once been a comfort but now that he was gone, it was pretty much obvious that it was a life or death situation for many sorcerers and normal people.

But you had faith in both yourself and the rest of the sorcerers that were going to be there despite originally being somewhat conflicted about the participation of the students.

Nanami didn't say anything. You knew how he was, confident that the whole thing would end up in a matter of seconds. Everyone believed the same thing. Until Gojo was sealed.

There was a moment when you thought you should probably call Nanami after the news broke. "Just to hear his voice." You kept repeating to yourself, trying to prevent the panic and anxiety from settling in. He was a grade 1 sorcered after all, of course he would get the short end of the stick.

You nesorcver ended up doing it because you had to deal with some curses.

With your own battle having come to an end and with no further orders from above, you waited, keeping an eye on the rest of the sorcerers, helping whenever you could.

"I'm going in."

His voice startled you, almost making you flinch. You didn't have to turn around to unerstand that he was beyond frustrated. It was clear from the sharp tone in his voice even though Nanami always spoke in such a gentle and soft way to you.

When you turned around, he was standing right behind you, leaving little to no space between the two of you. Under different circumstances he wouldn't have done something like that but you needed that level of comfort and so did he.

"In?" You knew what he meant but the denial had started settling in; that this was far from over. It wasn't about defeating a couple of curses, lifting the veils and hoping to find Gojo hidden under some cardboard boxes.

"The next battles require at least grade 1 sorcerers." He said, looking down at you as you fixed his shirt and hair slightly. His chest was heaving, his own battle with Shigemo having just ended.

"I am grade 1." You quickly responded.

"We're packed."

"Nanami-"

"I have taken Ijichi to a safe place. Join him and wait for reenforcements."

"Excuse me?"

You knew what he was doing. Disclosing information to keep you safe even though one more person would make the situation slightly better. You knew he didn't want to offend your abilities or belittle you. He just wanted you safe but still... it hurt.

"Please, sweetheart, do it for me." Hearing Nanami like that was odd to say the least. He was pleading, begging you to stay safe without even attempting to 'argue'.

"Additional help won't hurt." Nanami turned his head to the side, a desperate attempt to keep his cool. He would fall down on his knees to beg you if he had to.

"Please."

"Instead of being desperate to keep me safe, you should be begging for help. Who knows what else they've got in store?"

"If I am desperate it is all for you, so please. Hide."

"And let everyone else suffer?"

"I'll suffer." He breathed out. "I will suffer if I come back and you're not alive."

Nanami never came back.

Tags: @vera-deville

[christinebloodwrittings]

To hunt or be hunted #3

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: The Vee's had the audacity to try to ransack the Hotel, Angel gets some tea and biscuits, the Terror makes herself present after 30 years of absence. Warnings: Blood, torture, sadism, Valentino's sick ass.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink

“Who is she? The demon living in between the walls?” his severe tone made Charlie’s legs quiver, Alastor’s smile widened when he noticed. “Dad, what are you talking about?” she still tried to remain calm and cheery, “You know, I thought I was going crazy, but then she delivered tea to my room” ‘Fast, think Charlie’ she encouraged herself, her thoughts going through your bond straight into your ears.

“There’s someone living in the walls?” Angel asked at the same time as Vaggie and Husk, intensifying the princess’s panic, “Dad it’s just a spell I managed to learn, after the extermination I been working on my powers” a half-lie half-truth, but that seemed to do the trick.

Not because Charlie was any good at lying, but because the rest decided not to question her, why would them? Specially her father, who relied on denial, incapable to willingly accept his daughter’s lies, rather a consequence of isolation and desperation to have a good relationship with her, even if that meant that he would have to be lied to.

Meaning, a deep part of him was aware it was a lie, but the rest, decided to let it slide, painfully so.

“Yeah? Well your ‘spell’ needs work, it’s snappy” he joked, his mask better than his fake optimism. “I’ll see to it, dad” then she excuse herself to the kitchen, being followed by a dark figure.

“My dad saw you” she busted inside, closing the door and sealing the noise inside. You accidentally dropped the spoon you were using to sample the salt level of the broth, giving the startle, which the princess earned a grimace in return.

“Technically no, I was using my veil” she huffed, her horns growing on her head, “Did you tell him anything?” she was desperate to know, giving how much her hands trembled, “Only that he looked anemic, which it’s true, then he asked for who I am, twice” There was no point in neglecting lunch simply because Charlie was suffering from a tantrum due to lack of control over her own emotions, and a lie that was eating her soul.

“What did you respond?” she slammed her fist against the kitchen island, breaking the marble underneath, causing one or another shard to bury itself into her soft skin. “Just that it was none of his business” you lowered the heat under the pot, then turned to see the princess attempting to take the little pieces of stone out of her hand.

“This is bad” referring to the situation, she kept hurting herself, until you took her wrist and levitated the shards off and threw them in the garbage. “If you like them so much, why you keep lying? You’ve seen the worst of everyone, I don’t think they will judge you, they can’t anyway” the first aid kit levitated off the cupboard, eagerly opening its lid to reveal alcohol, povidone, cotton and bandages.

“How do you confess such a thing? I have two years left to convince you, and I still haven’t made progress” she spoke as she hissed from moment to moment, feeling the sting of the alcohol cleaning her cuts, then she watched as the bandages snaked from her wrist to wrap itself around her hand, then mimicked with the color of her skin, completely invisible.

“Is it really so hard for you to understand that I don’t need to be saved?” she lifted her sight from her hands to your eyes, “I can’t just give up on you” it’s funny how you understood her urge, but simply couldn’t put up with her selflessness (obsession) sometimes.

“You can, you just don’t want to” you looked over your arm, admiring the reminiscing of your deal tattooed to your skin, like a vine threatening to tear you apart. “Anyways, quit stirring your oatmeal around, you have to eat it” Charlie gave you a pout, you knew she hated it, but since you became aware of her habit, you made sure to give her a heavy breakfast, “But the texture” she whined, getting no reaction from you, “I don’t care”.

When she left, you noticed the deer demon’s shadow attached to the princess’s, you made sure to step on it to avoid an escape on its part.

It gave you a guttural whine giving the strength of your hold, “Tell Alastor that I’ll give him roasted venison’s heart as a treat if he holds his peace” he made a thinking face, then materialized words in the air, saying “My lips are sealed up tight as a drum, chérie” then your ominous buddy slithered under the door and out of sight.

Later in the evening, around tea time, while you were cutting the heart into bite size pieces, you heard a thundering  crash, a yell and things breaking. You let your nerves ease, Lucifer was in the building so he could handle things if they escalate to a mortal edge, so instead of worrying you let the meat marinate in a mixture of buttermilk, salt, lemon juice, various herbs, and spices.

“Y/n!” you heard the summon, “Valentino is in the hotel, please…handle the situation” you set the knife down, turned off the stove, “I’m on it” with that you disappeared from the kitchen in a swirl of smoke.  

The scene in the lobby was horrible, the moth demon had Angel in his grasp in any way possible, one hand on his chain, two hands handling all his arms, and the remaining one fondling him with the tip of a gun.

The star’s body was bruised up to no end, mouth coughing blood, and had cigarette burns along his hands and arms. Since he had a gun, there wasn’t much the crew could do, approaching Valentino would cause Angel’s death, no matter the strategy any of the present could think of.

In between Charlie’s pleas, Vaggie and Husk’s threats, and Vox’s amused laugh, the hotel’s phone rang. The sound drawing everyone’s attention, Niffty took the old looking phone off its base, “Hello? Oh hi! Yes, he’s here, It’s for you” Vox took a few steps forward, took the phone reaching it to his ear level.

What he heard froze every liter of blood in his body, his hands, the only skin visible, paled as the voice in the other side of the line, was one he thought no longer walked this earth.

“Child” you smiled, he could feel it, “Mistress” a crawling sensation invaded Valentino´s spine, nearly cracked his neck as he violently turned his head towards his friend, “There’s a total of three thousand five hundred and seventy-five employers inside the V tower” he tried accessing his tower security camera system, but there was no connection, there was a complete blackout inside the building.

“Truly the role of overlord turned into a joke” Vox felt a pang in his side and a nauseating sensation,

“Please, please, please, don’t-” begged a voice that turned into drowned screams, “The last time we had a conversation, I taught you a lesson, recite it for me, every word that you get wrong will result into the number lowering 10 employers each” Vox swallowed a lump of saliva, as he felt the cold traveling from his toes to his neck, every bolt in his body fighting to flow correctly as he tried to re formulate a speech from thirty years ago.

“The job of an Overlord-”he lost his words, on the phone he heard it, ten times a crunching sound ten times in a row, “Again” your voice brought him back, “The role of an Overlord sovereign, is not only to torment the souls he possesses. He must be disciplined, sane, cold headed, and have the will to care for those who grant him his position and power” of 37 words he had 6 mistakes, which resulted in seventy deaths, counting in the first ten.

“Do you or Valentino enter in such description?” his ego killed himself when he had to answer, “No”, that made you smile, “What are you now and what you’ll always be?” you had to admit, the view from the top of the tower was exquisite, the warm light from the city reflected on your figure, your axe glowing in the darkness drenched in tears, blood and saliva.

“An overpowered pest” Vox answered, being seen by his nemesis Alastor such a state of shame, being ridiculed in front of the king of hell himself, and what’s worse, his drone was angled in a way his little stunt was streamed live all over hell, that was truly a delicious sight.

“Good boy” Valentino felt sick hearing you take a different modus operandi, usually you were one to jump from nowhere and strike, not to sacrifice ‘innocents’ as a way of extortion.

“Let’s make it fun, mmh? Leave the star be, and maybe I’ll consider not paying your other V a visit” Angel heard most of everything giving that Vox made sure the phone was in between him and the moth, Angel was still on Valentino´s grasp so he was being obligated to hear the slaughter.  

“Val” the two overlord exchanged a look, Valentino groaned adding strength to the hold, making Angel cry in pain, “If I hear another sound of his throat I’ll knock down Velvette’s door” the two Vee’s heard their team mate voice at the distance, right in between your warning.

It all fell onto Valentino’s shoulders, but even him wasn’t that dumb, he walked forward with Angel, placing him at arms reach from Charlie, then he let go, “It’s done” you walked far from the door as you heard the bitterness in his voice, “Lovely, now, put Alastor on the line, please” he did as told, as the smiling demon hit him with an amused look on his face.  

“Vox” he placed the phone near himself, “I better don’t catch you lurking around in the district” when you wanted to, your voice could be as warm as a fireplace in winter, but also as cold as being buried alive under a snow avalanche. “Understood” he passed the phone to Alastor, shakily so.  

“Hello?” Charlie was stunned, Alastor’s mannerisms shifted, she wasn’t sure how, but they did. “Let me know when they leave” he heard the lack of amusement in your voice, the same you had back at his old studio. “They’re out” he said as soon as the door closed.

“Good, you’ll get your reward when I come back” You lowered the trinket that could be called a telephone, however the static of his voice caught your attention, “Vais-je m'entendre avec votre compagnie, ou me laisserez-vous manger tout seul ?” (Will I get it along with your company, or will you let me to eat all by myself?), Alastor caught Charlie then Lucifer’s stare, both surprised at the new voice he used when speaking French, smooth, velvety even.

“Will it make you happy if I joined you?” he wasn’t expecting you to understand him, but it pleased him to no end, “Oui chérie” (Yes darling), his antics made you miss the old times, “Maybe some other time, I am running late for dinner preparations” his smile didn’t faltered, but he was disappointed, “I’ll make sure to leave a glass of wine waiting for you in your studio, maybe in exchange of another song?” Charlie would have your head on the wrong end of her trident if you were to neglect your job.

“Merci chérie, which will that be?” you took a moment to process how attractive his voice sounded, before answering, “Surprise me” then you hang up.

Later that evening, Charlie repeated the way she wished to talk with you, busting the door open and sealing the noise, “What’s going on with you and Alastor?” ‘Straight to the point I see’ you thought while stirring the pesto sauce to fully combine it with the pasta.  

“Nothing, merely sympathy towards a comrade” perhaps that wasn’t the right term, but it was what you could think of, “You two had met already?” she made her way to the cupboard, taking out a few plates, “Not directly, but I like to think we both were aware of the other, but simply decided not to engage” it would’ve been deadly to have done so, perhaps for both Alastor and yourself.  

“Dinner’s ready, since I am not to be seen, I guess you can take it from here, make sure Angel eats it all” you left her even more confused than when she walked in.

Alastor made his way to his studio after dinner, finding the cooked little bits of venison carefully plated, next to a glass of Pinot Noir wine. He would never utter noises that would degrade his so beloved reputation, but at the first bite, he couldn’t resist letting a small moan escape his throat.

At 3 am, the so called ‘Devils hour’, a knock interrupted Angel’s poor attempt to patch his wounds up, “Charlie, it’s late for ya’ to be…who are you?” he opened the door, finding you, fresh from the shower, it may have been a bit insulting to show up in your ruined working attire all drenched in blood, so you thought best to freshen up before making an appearance.

“I believe you already know that” he recognized your voice, it made his breath hitch, “What are you doing ‘ere?” his courage faltered giving his wounds, but if he was going to die by your hand, he wasn´t going to go quietly.

“I been in your place before” Angel’s eyes fell upon the red tin box, then scoffed, “Yeah sure” his strength faltered, laid his side against the door frame, trying to make it look cool, but failing.

“Whether you believe me or not it’s not my concern, however, those wounds will get infected if not treated correctly, giving your line of work that would be a tragedy” Angel pondered for a second, in defeat he pushed the door to open it completely, granting you access.

“Exactly how you’ve been in my place before?” he asked, watching you take a seat in his bed, taking multiple things out of the box, “You are one of four demons with powers to the level of royalty, you own thousands if not millions of souls, you dared to challenge the fucking Goetia clan and won! I doubt you were ever in pain before” he sat next to you, your image above the rest popping into his head like an epic cinematic of a great villain arc.

He then had to snap out of it due to a sound, “You fucking laughin’ at me?” you held your laughter against the inside of your clothed elbow, making the spider feel embarrassed and a little scared. “I apologize, but your ignorance astounds me” you signaled him to wait, with a snap of your fingers there was a bowl of warm water and a cotton rag, applying an antiseptic to the water before starting to palp softly on Angel’s wounds.

“The correct terminology is ‘were’ dearest, I used to be that kind of demon, now, I’m just here to aid you” Angel found that hard to believe, but didn’t questioned you, rather enjoyed your care.

“Is it true?” after a long time of you washing him, he broke the silence, making you look up from the cigar burns on his hands, “Did you really murdered three Goetia?” that brought you memories, when you were young and hungry for power, almost nostalgic.

“What would make you believe me? Their severed heads or the scars on my body? Because I can only offer the latter” he hissed when the rubbing alcohol touched the cut on his eyebrow, “People say you had their heads hanged on your wall as trophies” you laughed again, people’s bad mouthing can get to be really impressive, imaginative even.

“I would truly be a monster if I didn’t offered my fallen opponents a dignified burial, don’t you agree?” You had challenged three lesser lords to duel, to death of course, which they had agreed to, spoken and in paper, you would never be as foolish as just bust the door open and kill whomever.

“Please don’t speak of my presence here, if you are good, I’ll make cannoli for tea time” he could see that you were in a similar situation as his, being owed, as well as your subtle urgency. “Sure toots, I won’t”.

“Hey, can I ask, why Axe-man?” he spoke, when you were finishing to brush alcohol on the cuts on his back, “The local paper and the New Orleans police named me that, I just didn't want to change it when I got here, and people respect a man killer more than a woman, or that’s how it used to be” he didn’t needed stitching, if Valentino wanted to really hurt him, you’d probably would have to sew limbs together.

“That’s it? I mean…I thought it was somethin a bit more dramatic” you despised (understatement) the Italian new York accent he spoke with, but he was nothing like the Italian mobsters of yesteryear, he walked with the grace of a runway model, proud of his looks, his fame, himself, but masked all his pain and self-loathing within. You felt as if you were staring at a younger version of yourself, so full of life, yet lacking purpose.

“Well at the time no one could think a woman was smart enough to participate in politics, much less kill someone, I embraced that alter-ego over time, it became a second skin…so to speak" it was wise to believe that last statement.

Angel hummed in agreement, getting a good look at you. Yellow-beige skin; the heel of your hand was hard and rough probably because of your lion looking appearance, big fluffy yellow ears on each top side of your head almost disappearing into your hair. Taking out the ears, the long heavy tail, and the black cat nose you have, you could pass for a human, or almost looking similar to Charlie.

He was so tempted to touch your tail, color that matched your skin and the ears, but you got up before he could reach.

“Now, take those pills, every six to eight hours should help with the pain and the swelling, I suggest you take it at a much appropriate time” he watched you as you gracefully poured tea into a white and pink tea cup, leaving it on his night stand along with a little biscuit.

“Thank you” your ears twitched happily, “My pleasure, dear, rest” never, not to any living soul, would you admit that you enjoyed being useful, but it made you feel lighter, like breathing fresh air for the first time.

“By the way, the butler aesthetic suits you, ya’ look hot”

“Thank you, I have to look the part, don’t I?”

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

Author note: No matter what type of body you have, you would slay in that outfit!

Part 4

[subskz]

pay attention - h.js

note: this is a reupload from my old blog

content: sub jisung, dom reader, jealousy, brat-taming (sorta), jisung is very childish, use of vibrators, edging, orgasm denial, slight exhibitionism, lots of begging, very light degradation/humiliation, reader’s sex is unspecified

word count: 5k

A loud, exaggerated huff met your ears for what must’ve been the thousandth time that day, and for the thousandth time that day, you ignored it.

Jisung was seated across the room at the kitchen table, his meal untouched and long forgotten in front of him. Instead, his eyes were locked on you, inwardly begging for you to just spare him a glance as you strolled around the kitchen, fully immersed in the phone call you were having with your coworker.

You had a major project due in just a few days, and you’d spent the better part of the past two weeks talking with your team members over the phone and meeting with them to work on it. Jisung hadn’t minded how busy you were at first. He was happy seeing you get along with everyone so well and working hard on something you were passionate about. At some point, however, that happiness had started to waver.

More specifically, the exact moment he came to realize just how often you seemed to be talking with a certain member.

Every time Jisung came across you chatting on the phone, it was with the same guy. He couldn’t help but begin to wonder irritably why a group assignment would require so much one-on-one interaction between the two of you, and he often found himself listening in on your calls with a bit more interest than necessary when you were nearby.

Things had only gotten worse from there, when he ended up making yet another unwelcome discovery to add to his sense of unease—that being, how often you tended to break out into laughter while talking with the other man. Jisung had grown used to being the sole object of your affection, with all your fond grins and playful eyerolls directed at him. As much as it wounded his ego to admit, it bothered him that there was someone else who could draw out your laughter the same way he could, the same way he prided himself on. 

“He must be pretty funny,” Jisung had commented one day after you’d ended your call, trying his best to appear nonchalant.

You’d put your phone down with a faint smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Not funnier than me though, right?” The words were out of his mouth before he could think to stop them, and he nearly cringed at himself for sounding so blatantly insecure.

He was met with a disbelieving snort from you, as if the thought wasn’t even worth considering. “No way,” you’d hummed.

That, coupled with the affectionate poke you’d given his cheek, had instantly made him relax. Jisung was grateful, as well as a bit ashamed, that you hadn’t caught wind of the thinly-veiled concern in his question. It seemed you had more faith in his maturity than he probably deserved.

As the week continued and your deadline drew closer, that brief period of reassurance had faded away little by little. Every time you left Jisung to go meet with your team members for hours on end, or took another call in the middle of what precious little free time you had with him, he felt more and more neglected. He knew it was selfish, but he couldn’t ignore the undeniable pit of jealousy that had been steadily building up inside him. It was like a constant, nagging itch that he couldn’t quite reach himself—you were the only one who could scratch it for him.

He would give anything for you to talk to him for longer than just a few minutes at a time or hold him in your arms without using your other hand to type away at your laptop. And on a deeper level, he craved the familiar comfort of your touch and your addictive words of praise in your more intimate moments together. Every part of his mind and body were crying out for your attention. To focus on him and only him.

He was, after all, every bit as needy as you liked to tease him for.

It was for that reason that when your phone had rung in the middle of your lunch, interrupting the first meal you’d been able to share together that week, Jisung had done away with his last shreds of common sense and decided that he’d reached his limit.

“Your food’s getting cold,” he called out, still not taking his eyes off of you.

You paused to glance over at him, and he felt his spirits lift just a bit as you flashed him a quick, sweet smile. “Just a second, Hannie,” you replied. “I’m almost done.”

The warm feeling in Jisung’s chest fizzled out as soon as you returned to your call, turning away from him and continuing to discuss the seemingly endless details of your project. He lifted his chopsticks to prod at his food half-heartedly, letting out yet another annoyed huff for no one to hear but himself.

Just as he was about to give up on convincing you to join him, the sound of your laughter filled his ears again, making his skin crawl with that same jealousy that had grown far too familiar for his liking in recent weeks.

Jisung stood up suddenly, pushing his chair back faster than he’d intended and creating a harsh squeaking noise that instantly caught your attention.

“Seriously,” he complained, not bothering to watch his volume. “Just hang up already.”

Your eyes widened at his outburst, and you pointed to your phone urgently in an attempt to get him to lower his voice. He made no effort to, however, a hurt pout forming on his face instead. “You’re supposed to be spending time with me, right? Tell him you have to go, I can’t wait any more.”

His whine echoed throughout the kitchen, and you covered the speaker of your phone with your hand, trying to mask the sound of it. “Jisung,” you scolded under your breath. “I told you, I’m almost done. This is important.”

“More important than me?” he mumbled.

You raised an eyebrow, thoroughly confused as to why he was being so difficult over something as silly as your lunch. Before you could say anything else, your coworker spoke up again through the phone.

“You there?” he asked.

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied, giving Jisung one last concerned look before preparing to continue the conversation.

Jisung’s pout morphed into a full-blown scowl as you brushed him off yet again.

“You don’t like me anymore,” he announced loudly.

Your head darted in his direction to give him a warning glare, but he held your gaze stubbornly, puffing his cheeks out in a way that would’ve been adorable if it weren’t for his behavior. A part of Jisung knew exactly how unreasonable he was being, but it paled in comparison to the other, which had become far too consumed with pettiness to care.

“Hey, give me a minute,” you told the man on the other line, quickly muting your phone.

Jisung shrank slightly into his hoodie as you made your way over to him, the exasperation evident on your face. “Jisung,” you began. “What’s up with you?”

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, giving a tiny, irritable shrug. “You’re ignoring me.”

“I’m not,” you retorted. “You know how busy I am this week, but it’ll all be over in a few days. Just be patient, babe.”

There was a pause, and Jisung looked conflicted, making you think for a moment that you may have gotten through to him. It was short-lived, however, as he furrowed his brows immediately after, unsatisfied with your reassurance.

“I don’t want to be patient anymore,” he grumbled. “You’re always with your team members, especially that one guy. And what’s so funny, anyway? Why are you always laughing with him?” Jisung’s voice rose in pitch, his habit of speaking too fast kicking in and turning his words into one, indecipherable ramble. “Seriously, you can’t even stop talking to him to eat with me.”

You pressed your lips together, feeling a faint tinge of guilt as you realized there was some truth to what he was saying. Though you’d certainly had your work cut out for you on this assignment, there was no need to let it take up your time to this degree, especially considering the fact that you had a whole group of people to help you out. On top of that, it was no secret how much Jisung thrived on your attention, and receiving so little of it for the past two weeks was bound to have taken a toll on him.

It was just like him, really, to feel like his place was being threatened over something as harmless as a work project.

Though you understood his feelings, you held your ground, too annoyed by the fact that he was being so ridiculously childish about it.

“Don’t be silly. We’re covering the same section, that’s why I have to talk to him so much.” You crossed your arms. “You know I’d rather be spending time with you than working.”

“Then pay attention to me.” Jisung whined, not missing a single beat. He reached out to tug at the sleeve of your shirt, and the needy gesture accompanied by his unfairly cute expression nearly made you falter.

You sucked in a deep breath, using all your willpower to resist his doe eyes. “As soon as I’m done,” you said sternly.

Jisung made a noise of protest as you brought your phone back to your ear, ready to unmute it. Without thinking, his hand flew up in an attempt to snatch the device from you, causing your thumb to miss its target and accidentally end the call.

Your face dropped as you realized what had happened. With an alarmed squeak, Jisung let go of your hand and backed away, immediately sensing that he’d gone too far.

You shut your eyes for a moment, gritting your teeth in an attempt to contain your frustration, and when you opened them again, you were met with Jisung’s guilty stare. He looked apologetic, but you didn’t miss the tiniest flash of gratification that crossed his features. The corner of his mouth twitched just slightly, almost as if to fight back a smile—almost as if he had secretly been hoping for this exact outcome.

He held his breath in anticipation as you eyed him with growing understanding. Jisung was so desperate to be noticed by you, to have your thoughts occupied with him for more than just a fleeting moment, that even your disapproving glare was enough at this point.

Something clicked inside you. Still, you studied his face a moment longer, just to ensure that you were reading the situation correctly.

“You want attention so bad?” you began slowly.

He nodded, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip in a way that made your heartbeat pick up.

“I need it.” His emphasis on the word was fully intentional. If you hadn’t gotten the message before, you certainly would have now.

You glanced down at your phone to check the time, then locked it with a heavy sigh that masked the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Fine.”

You took hold of Jisung’s wrist, hardly giving him the chance to react before guiding him to the other room. He stumbled after you with little resistance, and when you came to a stop in front of the bed, he gave you a look that was all too eager.

“Undress,” you ordered.

Jisung hesitated, cheeks flushing at the sudden request.

“What’s the matter?” You tilted your head. “Since you’re so shameless today, go ahead and show yourself off for me.”

The scorn in your voice compared to your gentle reassurances from earlier made Jisung’s stomach flutter. His hands quickly reached down to grab the hem of his hoodie, pulling it over his head and tousling his hair in the process. He was wearing nothing else underneath, and you admired his lean frame with a quick onceover before motioning for him to remove the rest of his clothes as well.

Jisung’s fingers began fumbling with the waistband of his shorts, only for him to pause again. “Help me?” he asked with a pout.

You refused to let that pleading look of his get to you a second time. “Be a big boy and do it yourself.”

Your chiding earned an unhappy hum from him, but he complied nonetheless, pushing down his shorts and wriggling out of them along with his underwear.

“So worked up already,” you commented, shaking your head. “Does it get you off, acting like this? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Jisung’s blush grew deeper, and he instinctively moved his hands to cover his half-hard length. He braced himself as you came closer—half-expecting you to touch him like he’d ached for so badly for days now—only to yelp in surprise as you gave his chest a light nudge that made him topple back onto the mattress.

“Stay just like that,” you commanded.

He sat up on his elbows, looking ready to object, but you didn’t bother to stick around and listen.

You headed towards the closet, already set on how you were going to deal with Jisung. He was going to get his wish, but you planned to grant it in a way that would leave him even more frustrated than before.

After some digging around, you were able to find what you were looking for—a hitachi wand and vibrating plug. Grabbing them along with a bottle of lube, you quickly made your way back to the bedroom where Jisung was shifting his weight anxiously from side to side. He parted his lips in surprise as he saw the toys in your hands, a nervous sort of arousal building in his chest.

“What are you gonna do with those?” it came meek, completely unlike his earlier, childish demands. 

“What you wanted.” You popped open the cap of the lube bottle. “Hannie needs all eyes on him, right? So I’m gonna sit back and watch while you entertain me.”

The whimper that left Jisung only solidified your decision, and he lifted a hand to paw at you. “Th-that’s not—” he began, cutting himself off when you moved out of his reach. “I…please, want you to touch me instead.”

“Such a greedy boy,” you clicked your tongue. “You should be quiet and take what you can get.”

Jisung let out a small, miserable noise before laying back down in defeat. Despite his protest, his cock hardened fully against his stomach as he watched you squeeze the lube onto the plug, lathering the toy until it was thoroughly coated.

“Spread your legs for me,” you directed.

He did so instantly, parting his thighs and raising his back off the bed just slightly to make things easier for you. Carefully, you lined the plug up with his entrance and prodded at it. Jisung exhaled heavily, trying to relax his body as you began pushing it in bit by bit. A shiver ran down his spine from the familiar sensation of being filled up, and he couldn’t bite back the soft, satisfied moan that escaped him.

Once it was fully inside, you gave Jisung’s cheek an approving pat. He squirmed around in the sheets as he adjusted, hissing lightly when the toy brushed against his prostate. You motioned for him to sit up, watching closely as he complied. It was exactly the kind look he’d missed, a look that made him feel like he was made for your eyes only.

As soon as he was upright, you brought the hitachi wand to hover above his length, making his breath hitch. “Please,” he squeaked as you pressed down on his already dripping head, smearing the droplets of precum around. “Don’t tease me.”

“You think this is teasing?” you hummed. “You’re in for a rough time, then, baby.”

At that, you pushed the button on the wand and it buzzed to life, earning a sharp gasp from Jisung. His whole body jolted as the vibration rippled through him, and you once again found yourself marveling over how sensitive he was.

You kept the vibrator steady, holding it against his tip just long enough for him to grow restless before beginning to move it in small, deliberate circles.

“M-more,” Jisung whimpered almost immediately. “Want more.”

“You’re hopeless, Hannie,” you scolded.

The boy groaned, pushing his hips up to emphasize his plea. You rolled the toy around his head as slowly as possible, taking pleasure in the tiny, frustrated noises that slipped out of him.

Without warning, you slid the wand along the underside of his cock, brushing against a particularly sensitive spot and making Jisung hiccup weakly.

You held it there for several seconds, focusing on the delicate area before pushing the button on the vibrator once again to increase its strength. Jisung’s hips fully bucked this time, the burst of stimulation catching off guard.

“A-ah!” he cried out.

“Is it good?” you asked innocently.

Jisung’s hands gripped the bedsheets, and he swallowed hard before mustering up a reply. “Hah...y-yes,” he mewled. “Touch me, please.”

“I don’t think so,” you drawled. “This is all a brat like you gets.”

You were met with another pitiful whine, and it only grew louder as you moved the vibrator away from his sensitive spot and down to the base of his dick. The toy pushed Jisung’s length against his stomach, smearing some of his precum against his skin.

“Please,” he tried again. “Wanna f-feel you. Miss you.”

For good measure, he blinked his eyes open to hit you with that irresistible gaze, embodying innocence even in moments like these. Still, you managed to hold on to your resolve.

“You asked for attention, and now you’re getting it.” you said simply. “If you keep complaining it’ll only get worse for you.”

Before Jisung could respond, you used your free hand to grab the remote control for the plug. A choked noise escaped him as you pressed down on the power button it began to vibrate inside him. He arched his back sinfully, the combined sensation of both toys making his head spin.

“Ah! Wait!” Jisung gasped. “So good…m-more,”

“Hm...which is it? You want me to wait or not?”

He shook his head frantically, squeezing his eyes shut. “No! P-please,” he whimpered.

“Poor baby can’t even think straight,” you cooed. “Is this too much for you?”

“Please,” he begged, louder this time. “Don’t stop, I’m almost—”

Jisung’s words morphed into a broken moan, and when his arms began to tremble, you knew that his high was already creeping up on him. Listening carefully to the sound of his breathing, you slid the vibrator back to the head of his cock to toy with it some more.

A shiver ran down his spine as you passed over his most sensitive spot once again, causing his whole body to quiver with effort. The moment you noticed him tense up, you pulled the wand away, earning a cry of protest from Jisung.

His eyes fluttered open in alarm, trying to process the sudden drop in pleasure in his scrambled mind.

“N-no...why’d you stop?” he mewled, adorably disoriented. “Was about t-to—”

“What’s wrong, Hannie?” you faked a pout. “I’m just trying to spend time with you for as long as possible. I can’t do that if I let you cum so soon.”

Jisung hiccuped miserably in response, grinding down on the plug vibrating inside him in an attempt to draw out his orgasm. “This isn’t f-fair,” he stuttered out. “You’re being so mean.”

You didn’t bother to deny it, instead watching in delight as he squirmed around, the desperation growing more and more evident on his flushed face. He shut his eyes again, trying to focus on the feeling of the toy pressing against his walls. With a frustrated whine, Jisung released his grip on the sheets and brought a hand up to length. You raised an eyebrow as he wrapped his fingers around it and began to stroke almost mindlessly, determined to do whatever it took to make himself cum. His hand moved at a rapid pace, and just as you were about to scold him for acting without permission, another strained groan spilled out of him.

“N-not enough,” he slurred. “S’not enough…I need you. Please, please, touch me.”

You reached forward to cradle Jisung’s face in mock sympathy. “It’s just not the same, huh, baby?” you murmured. “Maybe if you'd been a good boy, I would’ve played with your needy little dick for you.”

His moment of disobedience ended as soon as it began. With a mewl of defeat, he released his cock from his hold and dropped his hand back onto the mattress. You gave his cheek a condescending pat, satisfied with his quick surrender, and leaned back once more.

Jisung’s breath caught in his throat as you brought the vibrator to tease his tip once again. You gave the toy another click, changing the setting from a constant vibration to short, rapid bursts. Jolts of pleasure shot through him with each one, and he shot his hips up eagerly in an attempt to gain more friction.

“Hah—fuck!—please,” he gasped. “F-feels so good,”

Jisung was writhing again in no time, simultaneously trying to push forward into the wand and press down on the plug inside him. “Lemme cum, please,” he begged. “C-can’t take it. I’ll seriously go crazy.”

“That’s no good, angel,” you frowned. “I’ve only stopped once. Are you really gonna disappoint me? I thought you wanted to put on a good show.”

Your voice was sickeningly sweet as you taunted him, making Jisung lower his head in shame. “N-no,” he objected feebly. “Wanna be g-good. But I—”

“At least try to hold out after causing me so much trouble,” you cut him off, moving your wrist to roll the vibrator around the head of his cock. Jisung’s body jerked at that, and a loud hiss escaped him as the plug brushed against his sweet spot, sending him dangerously close to the edge again.

His mouth fell open when you pulled the toy away a second time, leaving his length to twitch uncontrollably against his stomach. “N-not fair,” he whimpered. “Good boy, ‘m a good boy, p-please.”

You simply grinned as Jisung’s high slipped away from him again, waiting patiently for his pants to die down so you could go right back to teasing him.

Suddenly, the sound of a third object buzzing filled the room, and you realized with a start that your phone was ringing against your thigh. You slid your free hand into your pocket and retrieved the device, your smile only growing when you read the Caller ID.

Jisung blinked his foggy eyes open curiously, his interest piquing when he noticed the delighted look on your face.

It was your coworker—probably calling to see why you’d hung up out of the blue earlier. A wicked idea came to mind as the phone continued to vibrate in your palm, and you locked eyes with Jisung.

“If you’re such a good boy, let’s see if you can behave for me this time.”

His expression morphed into one of pure alarm as your intentions became clear to him, and before he could say anything, you accepted the call.

“Hello?” The man’s voice rang out as you hit the speaker button.

“Hey,” you answered casually.

Jisung stiffened as you moved your other hand to ghost the vibrator over his cock. He gave you a panicked look, silently begging for you to show him some mercy. You contemplated for a moment before lowering the setting to a softer vibration, solely so that the sound of it wouldn’t be too obvious.

“Sorry about earlier,” you told your coworker, trying to keep the amusement out of your voice as you pressed the wand against the underside of Jisung’s dick. “My connection got cut off.”

Jisung gritted his teeth in an attempt to suppress a moan, and you gently began dragging the toy up and down his length.

“No problem,” he assured you. “We were almost done, anyway. But I just wanted to double check how the last few slides are gonna be presented.”

“Sure, what’d you have in mind?”

Your words were immediately followed by a poorly muffled whimper from Jisung, and his heart skipped a beat when he realized how loud it’d come out. Despite the fear of being caught, however, he couldn’t ignore the way his arousal skyrocketed over the possibility of being heard like this.

“Well, since we’ve got two more major points to cover—”

He was interrupted by another strained gasp from Jisung, and this time, it was noisy enough for him to hear. “What was that?” he asked.

“What was what?” you feigned obliviousness, grateful that he couldn’t see your eyes glinting with hunger as you took in the sight of Jisung. He was biting down on his lip like his life depended on it, the muscles in his abdomen flexing and unflexing in a desperate attempt to control his movements.

“P-please,” he whispered, struggling to manage his volume. “Can’t hold b-back, please.”

You tilted your head at him innocently before turning your attention back to your call. “So you want me to take one and you take the other?” you asked the man on the other line.

“Yeah, I think that works,” he agreed. 

You listened absentmindedly as he continued with the details, sliding the vibrator back up to Jisung’s weak spot. His back arched suddenly, and when he clamped his jaws shut to hold back an especially loud cry, you wasted no time before pulling the toy away once more.

The choked sob that escaped Jisung didn’t disappoint, filling you with satisfaction as it echoed throughout the bedroom.

Your team member paused, growing silent on the other end. “Are you hearing that?”

“Hm?”

“Dunno...just heard a weird noise,” he said slowly.

It took all your willpower to keep from giggling as Jisung gazed at you hopelessly, chest heaving and lips trembling. “Oh, it might just be my boyfriend calling for me,” you dismissed. “He’s in the other room.”

Another pause. “You have a boyfriend?”

“Mhm.” You didn’t miss the way Jisung’s features lit up adorably at your mention of him, even in a less-than-ideal situation like this.

“Oh. I’m surprised I haven’t met him before.”

“Well, he’s a bit shy.”

Jisung’s stomach flipped as you began inching the vibrator closer to his cock, prepared to mess with him yet again. “Please,” he whined, voice growing higher in pitch. “Please, please, please,”

You felt goosebumps form on your skin, your own adrenaline spiking over how shamelessly he was begging when he knew how easily he could be heard. You hesitated for just a moment before pressing the wand against him, teasing the underside of his length once more.

“Anything else you wanted to cover?” Your question barely masked the way Jisung cried out your name, so intensely that it made your own heart skip a beat. 

“Hmm...no, I think we’re good for now!” your coworker answered.

“Gotcha. Talk to you later, then.”

“Right, bye.”

At that, you ended the call. Jisung let out a long, filthy moan the very instant you did, and you finally allowed the snicker you’d been holding back to slip free.

“Hm...you did a pretty awful job at keeping quiet, baby boy.” you remarked. “Any longer and he definitely would’ve been onto us.”

You clicked the button on the vibrator to increase its strength once more, leaving Jisung unable to do anything but squirm pathetically. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to show him that you’re mine.”

Despite everything, his face flushed impossibly more, and you knew you’d hit the nail on its head. His thighs began to quiver weakly as his climax drew near, unable to contain the pleasure that shook his body any longer. Deciding that Jisung had suffered enough, you kept the vibrator pressed steadily against his cock, urging him to finally come undone.

“G-gonna!” he warned breathlessly, throwing his head back. He rocked his hips into the mattress, grinding down on the plug until he felt the hot tension in his core snap at last. “Cumming!”

He hardly got the words out in time before he was emptying onto his stomach, splattering the tan skin with pearly ropes of cum. Moan after moan spilled out of his parted lips as he was finally granted his release, sending waves of bliss all throughout his body.

Jisung continued squirming for several seconds, and you only pulled the vibrator away once the last few spurts of his seed had shot out of him and his calls of your name faded into quiet mewls.

You drank in the sight of him, admiring every inch of his spent form before reaching for the plug’s remote and powering it off. A long, content sigh escaped the boy as you did so, making you soften.

As soon as he managed to catch his breath, his hazy eyes refocused and met yours. You gave him a small smile, patting your thighs to beckon him over. “C’mere.”

He obeyed right away, crawling unsteadily into your lap and slumping his full weight against you. Careful not to disturb him, you reached down and began to pull the plug out little by little. He made a small noise of discomfort as you did so, and you murmured gently in his ear in an attempt to soothe him.

Once you’d fully removed the toy, you leaned over to place it on your nightstand, grabbing some tissues to begin cleaning his seed off his stomach. Jisung let out a sweet hum, nuzzling his face into your neck as you delicately dabbed away.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. “About...how I acted. I know you’ve been working really hard.”

You raised your other hand to cradle his head. “It’s alright, Hannie. You were feeling lonely, weren’t you?”

Jisung whined quietly in agreement, clutching on to your shirt as if you might slip away from him. “You’re not mad?”

“No, angel,” you answered honestly, planting a kiss to his damp hair. “I missed you, too, y’know.”

There was a pause, then you continued playfully. “But next time, don’t be such a baby about it.”

He lifted his head at that, furrowing his brows and curving his lips into an irresistible pout. “I’m your baby, though,” he huffed.

Your fond giggle filled Jisung’s ears, and he felt more ridiculous than ever as he noticed for the first time how your eyes sparkled when you laughed with him in a way they never did for anyone else.