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firendgold · 9 months

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If you're still doing the choose violence ask game: 2 (👀), 9, 10, 22 ?

I got such a rush from finally answering the first ask that I'm doing this for as long as people send me questions. So here we go again!

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

anon, I'm at work. I'm seeing this at work. :'D

Okay, serious face. Albus Dumbledore is probably my fave if I have to choose between him and Harry on this blog. I just have to figure out why he would never...

Bottom. Albus would never, I'm sorry. He won't. He can't. Like, maybe when he was having his whirlwind summer romance with Gellert, he bottomed every single time they fucked because he was so in love and this was his equal and his partner and so what if he was a little rough and distant sometimes in the bedroom, and always wanted to top and tug his hair and hiss out orders? This was The Man The Universe Had Crafted For Him, and he would absolutely bottom for him every time... and then the summer of 1899 ends. And Ariana dies. And Aberforth breaks Albus' nose. And Gellert fucks off to go be a fascist.

And Albus, alone and heartbroken, resolves to never trust someone that completely again, never love someone that same way, and never let anyone get into a position of power over him where they might be able to use his knowledge and talents for ill. That means physically, emotionally, spiritually, psychologically... carnally. So he has sex with plenty of other people, and even falls in love with a few of them, but he is in control at all times. He never bottoms again.

That's all I've got for that one.

9. worst part of canon

So the first answer that came to mind is posted here, but for fairness' sake I'll try to come up with another worst thing. (That's not related to ships, because I'm trying really hard not to be THAT violent on the violence ask game.)

I think... that if That Woman was going to introduce international schools, students and characters in the middle book of the series, she should have done more with them than having them vanish after Goblet of Fire, only to come back for either fake romantic tension and one line of exposition about the Hitler allegory Dark Lord of the Before-Times (Krum, Deathly Hallows) or to be married off to a Weasley for an aesop of It's Not About His Looks Now That They're Jacked Up (Fleur, Half-Blood Prince). I'm not saying Fleur and Viktor HAD to be best buddies forever with Harry, but it is weird that they have this unique bond that no other young students have had with each other in hundreds of years, they even lost one of their fellow champions, Dumbledore gives this very moving speech about remaining connected and not letting darkness and prejudice sever new ties, and then... nothing. No side adventures in France or wherever Durmstrang is, no communication from either side, nothing.

Feels like a huge letdown in hindsight.

10. worst part of fanon

Oh, no. That's not fair. There's just so many.

If I had to consolidate what I currently don't like about the HP fandom/fanon into a few lines, I think I would say that I hate the pureblood/Dark side apologism. I do believe in nuance in characters. I do believe redemption and/or walking different paths is an important theme in Harry Potter, and I think it's fascinating to explore that with any and every character you can think of, even characters I may not personally like. But I really, really hate the way the fandom has taken that and twisted it into this idea that we were sold a lie at the start: that the British magical government was fine the way it was, and so was the society around it; that Dark magic Isn't All That Bad, Really, and there are actually Good and non-prejudiced things about a few rich bitches passing down their knowledge and secrets and slurs for generations within the Family, and keeping the Family "Pure" is cool actually, and none of this has any relation to real life ideas about miscegenation and classism and racism and eugenics, what are you talking about?

It's just so worrying. As a minority, when I see people on tumblr/twitter/AO3 gleefully agreeing that we need to eat the rich and fix society and eradicate all the horrid -isms and -archys ruining all our lives, then watch them turn around and write a 200k epic where Dumbledore was the evil one for locking the Horcrux books away and championing marginalized members of society, Hermione is just uppity for wanting to make necessary changes to the darker parts of magical society that That Woman was literally pointing out for a reason, and Tom Riddle is only bad because he took the good segregationist pureblood ideas and added murder to them... and when that fic gets thousands of comments agreeing with them full stop with no examination of any of that... it makes me anxious, at a minimum. The same thing is happening now with Grindelwald now that he's actually a figure on the screen and not just some dude mentioned a few times in the book series: same apologism, same justification of atrocities, same good-guy-blame-games, same blorbofication even.

On the one hand... fiction doesn't always directly reflect or affect reality. On the other... this unironic pro-pureblood meta is a pervasive concept that has popped up in thousands of fics written by thousands of fanfic writers. It's happened for years, and it keeps happening, and I see very few fans speaking out against it or even acknowledging it as a problem. So that makes me ask myself, who actually is willing and able to examine the injustices of our society and build a better imaginary society through the lens of HP fanfiction, and who's okay with the prejudice in the HP world as long as it's coming from the faves they're attracted to?

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Happily, this is a harder question to answer because I've been finding so many like minds in the past 5 years who go feral over the same 20 HP scenes as I do. ^^ But give me a sec, I'll think of something.

...

Okay. Got it.

In order to answer this question, I have to go back to the first time I, young teenager, avid reader, recent reader of the HP series once book 5 was out, realized that Harry and Dumbledore had a much deeper relationship than just headmaster and student. The thing that made me latch on to them and project like crazy, basically.

It's the scene in Goblet of Fire chapter 36 where Harry has been rescued from Fake Moody and he's in Dumbledore's office with Dumbledore and Sirius. Dumbledore asks Harry to relay everything that happened to him once he touched the Portkey in the maze—and immediately Sirius tries to protect Harry from having to relive it now, so soon after it's happened. And then this scene happens.

Dumbledore stopped talking. He sat down opposite Harry, behind his desk. He was looking at Harry, who avoided his eyes. Dumbledore was going to question him. He was going to make Harry relive everything. “I need to know what happened after you touched the Portkey in the maze, Harry,” said Dumbledore. “We can leave that till morning, can’t we, Dumbledore?” said Sirius harshly. He had put a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Let him have a sleep. Let him rest.” Harry felt a rush of gratitude toward Sirius, but Dumbledore took no notice of Sirius’s words. He leaned forward toward Harry. Very unwillingly, Harry raised his head and looked into those blue eyes. “If I thought I could help you,” Dumbledore said gently, “by putting you into an enchanted sleep and allowing you to postpone the moment when you would have to think about what has happened tonight, I would do it. But I know better. Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it. You have shown bravery beyond anything I could have expected of you. I ask you to demonstrate your courage one more time. I ask you to tell us what happened.” The phoenix let out one soft, quavering note. It shivered in the air, and Harry felt as though a drop of hot liquid had slipped down his throat into his stomach, warming him, and strengthening him. He took a deep breath and began to tell them. As he spoke, visions of everything that had passed that night seemed to rise before his eyes; he saw the sparkling surface of the potion that had revived Voldemort; he saw the Death Eaters Apparating between the graves around them; he saw Cedric’s body, lying on the ground beside the cup. Once or twice, Sirius made a noise as though about to say something, his hand still tight on Harry’s shoulder, but Dumbledore raised his hand to stop him, and Harry was glad of this, because it was easier to keep going now he had started. It was even a relief; he felt almost as though something poisonous were being extracted from him. It was costing him every bit of determination he had to keep talking, yet he sensed that once he had finished, he would feel better.

This is one of the best scenes in the entire book, the entire series. It completely refutes the fanon Dumbledore who is often cold, cruel, inflexible and unrelenting in his quest for whatever the author wants him to be inflexible and cruel about at the time. It shows that Dumbledore, the real Albus Dumbledore, is one of the few people who understands what Harry needs and is able to provide it to him, even when others who also care for Harry would rather protect him or shield him from what he needs.

Kid me was particularly taken by how gentle Dumbledore is with Harry here. It made me look back and see how in some ways this scene, this closeness, is the culmination of all the times they've met and spoken before.

(You can imagine how painful it was reading Order of the Phoenix right after this.)

But yeah, that's probably one of my favorite scenes that other people ignore or haven't talked about/drawn/written about much. Which is ironic, because the scene right after that where Harry talks about Voldemort taking his blood and Dumbledore's eyes do the triumphant "lol Voldemort just fucked up" gleam is probably one of THE most talked-about scenes in the fandom (even though to this fucking day in 2023 people still don't realize what the gleam meant, when even That Woman has clarified what it meant in INTERVIEWS).

...And for me, safely at the end of the questions, that's all she wrote.

#fireandgoldposts #thanks for the ask!#choose violence ask game #Albus Dumbledore #not y'all making me put more gr*ndeld*re on this blog :') I forgive you tho #it's my own fault for having that headcanon. and to think I didn't think I'd be able to answer that question #I'm poking a real bear by finally talking about how much I hate the pureblood politics/pureblood supremacy/misunderstood bad guys trifecta #another thing that was perhaps interesting 20 years ago when people first started doing it but is now stale and infuriating #since it's now seen as fact and not fiction #the fiction of fiction even #I can't believe I didn't just write ''the worst part of fanon is every independent!Harry/manipulative!Dumbledore fanfic ever written #that's growth for me #oh god the worst part about no expanded roles for Fleur and Krum is that most fans only give Fleur an extended role #when they're SHIPPING HER WITH HARRY as some kind of ''ooh foreign beauty'' thing where he naturally resists her allure #and oh my god here comes the nausea again because flowerpot is another ship that's been done to death the very same way haphne/wolfstar has #and I love Krum/Hermione as much as the next person but fanon Krum is like NEVER allowed to move on from Hermione unless he's gay/bi #which is VERY rare to see. like please give me Harry/Krum fanfic recs if you have them #or Ron/Krum because that is so narratively satisfying #honorable mention for question 22 would probably go to the scene where Hermione and Ron try to get Harry to go to Dumbledore in year 5 #after they find out what Umbridge is doing to him in detention and Harry just. CAN'T. properly explain why he doesn't want to go #but he's thinking about how Dumbledore has ''ignored him since last June'' and it's one of the few times we see him acknowledge that hurts #he mentions it several times throughout the book in his thoughts but that's one of the first times he refuses help from Albus #even though Albus would help him in a heartbeat oh my GOD it's been like 20 years since that book came out and I'm still feral about those #Goblet of Fire #Fleur Delacour #Viktor Krum #pureblood propaganda #and how much I am anti-that lmao #not fireandgold #oh my god having to reformat this every 3 hours because the bolds and italics won't stick is a fucking NIGHTMARE

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fourswords · 1 year

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actually i think in a post-canon world where shadow is "brought back" (aka made fully corporeal again because at the end of the manga he is Very Much still alive which i thought was Awesome) he should get the chance to actually make proper friends with link. i know popular fanon consensus is that link was never reformed at the end and green & red & blue & vio all remained separate but i think it would be interesting. there's a lot to be said for the friendship that i think would grow readily between zelda & shadow since it WAS her words and her capture by the dark cloud at the end that ultimately pushed him to aid the light (because he was scared FOR her, which is IMPORTANT) but for all that the friendship between vio and shadow was based on false pretenses there is absolutely no question that they DID grow attached to each other, enough that when vio attempted to smash the dark mirror shadow was very visibly upset and after the four links reunite vio is very much...i wouldn't say regretful, because he knew what he was going to have to do from the very beginning (because shadow WAS very much a threat and i don't blame him for it), but saddened. and the thing is! at the end, when shadow aids the four, they respond in kind—it's green who finds "vio" and instantly tries to get him to lean on him and offers him a hand to help him stand. it's blue that notices that "vio" is having trouble turning the sphere and turns it for him. it's vio that pleads with shadow as he lay dying to just hang in there, and it's green who ultimately tells shadow that he's one of them, which leads to shadow finally letting himself dissolve in the light. it is all the parts of link that surround him in death, and so i think it would stand to reason that if shadow were resurrected he should get to properly befriend the whole person whose parts all accepted him in the end. and honestly i think they'd get along great.

#like i understand where people are coming from when they say they don't like the ending of the four swords manga. i get it. i do #but ultimately link IS all four of them. they live in him because they ARE him just as they lived as him because they WERE him #& there's a lot of flexibility on how one can interpret link after being split by the four sword so maybe shadow actually CAN have #a conversation with vio about how everything went down even while link is one person. because. yknow. link IS vio!!!!!!!!!#the four were all their own people but they are also link. am i saying this in a way that makes sense #and he and shadow WOULD be friends. betrayal aside. if shadow was dead set on never forgiving vio he wouldn't have #pretended to be him and aided the others. he would've just tried to go after zelda himself #as useless an endeavor as that would've been because he was weak as fuck at the time #like. zelda was the one who pushed him to change for real with her genuine words of kindness. she was the first to REALLY offer him that.#but pretending that vio didn't feel some sort of attachment too is dumb and LITERALLY AT THE VERY END ALL THE PARTS OF LINK ACCEPTED HIM.#you can say whatever you want about the viz translation and how it differs from the original but it popped off when vio said #'he wanted to be with us...to be with his family.'#like bro they literally called him family. maybe it was too late to change anything. but it still matters that all four parts of link #acknowledged him as such. vio said that and nobody contested it.#anyway. i have so many thoughts about link&shadow&zelda post-canon. whatever #fsa #txt

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bunny584 · 4 months

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OBSESSED: GETO

A/N: Suguru is a patient, kind, wonderful, completely out-of-his-mind-insane man. I just had to capture it on paper. (The Yuuta installment is up next, this one was just crawling out of me lol)

C/W: Voyeurism (the real Shibuya incident 🤭) Mature, 18+

Suguru should stop.

He really should fucking stop.

You two are friends. Innocent. Platonic. The very best of friends.

And yet, here he is. Watching a live feed of you walking through your apartment door.

Keys to the left.

Heels kicked off to the right. You’ll come back to those later.

He drapes the bath towel around his neck. Catching the last few almond water droplets from his thick, near waist length hair. He’ll be at your place later; he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was the reason you caught a cold.

And capital punishment for anyone who rouses a single strand of hair on your head.

6:38 PM. A little late today. But it’s a Wednesday and there’s a farmers market in the town square. You always stop for chocolate croissants too late on Wednesdays. The vendor leaves before you’re out of work.

There are four of them on low heat in his oven right now.

Because Suguru now knows the vendor on a first name basis. He’s paid him well over asking price to have 4 chocolate croissants (made 2 batches later than what he sells during the day) be delivered to his place every Wednesday.

Because you’re his friend.

His best friend. And he can’t stand the thought of you going a second without anything you want in this lifetime.

Oh fucking hell.

Your (his) favorite blazer is off. As is the demure mint silk button up that it was covering. Both now wistfully draped over the corner of the kitchen island. He finds the way you throw your things around haphazardly so adorable.

But that doesn’t matter right now.

Like clockwork, Suguru’s left hand drags down his sweatpants, just enough to let his overgrown, painfully hard cock free. It bounces well past his belly button, like a fresh wire spring.

And with cinematic timing, you lean over your kitchen island. In nothing but your lacy bra and snug little pencil shirt. Mindlessly catching up on your social media.

The way your plush, pouty rose lips hang slightly open. And your fucking perfect tits spill over the top of your slightly undersized bra. The lazy S curve from your petite shoulders…tapered down to your waist…back out to the swell of your hips.

“Fuck,” a king cobra hiss escapes his lips.

You’re dizzying. Utterly fucking intoxicating.

Suguru’s chest rises and falls. The pace of his hand around his cock crescendos. Almost angrily.

How could you do this to him?

You’re his best friend for fucks sake.

Precum slicks from his thick, blunt tip. Squelching around his knuckles.

Your back arches into a mini crescent moon. And Suguru might as well have swallowed a blow torch.

“Nnnhhgh fuck, g-god…so…” Sharp drags of air mix with his poorly choked down moans.

His hand grips harder. Hips now rutting up off his desk chair. Hungry. Needy. Imprecise pumps into the slick ring of his fingers. Chasing another high he so desperately wishes you could personally give.

Because the way he feels right now?

The sheer malevolence in his mind. The depravity. You trust him completely and he can’t trust himself with you at all.

Beautiful, enchanting girl.

You reduce him to a perverted, bird brained slave to his desires.

You make him want to violate you. To fuck a cock-shaped hole through the back of your skirt to your cervix.

He wants to pick you up and bounce you along all 10 inches of his length and watch himself bludgeon through to your stomach.

He wants to pin you down and use your pretty little throat as his personal cocksleeve. And watch you garble and cry and drool around his invading length while you struggle for air. And listen to the melodic sounds of you gasping and muffled around his dick when he makes you apologize.

Apologize for being so goddamn irresistible. For bringing this depraved shell of a human being out of him.

Electricity runs the length of his manhood. His breaths are jagged, tendrils of wavey hair matted to his forehead.

The sound of your ringtone slices through the static in his brain. Tethering him back out of his criminal spiral.

“H-hey, pretty.” Suguru forces his baritone to level out. Hand still stroking his length.

Your wispy, girly giggle almost finishes him instantly.

“You’ve gotta stop with the pet names, Suguru! The trail of women in your wake hate me enough as it is.”

“Ha-I c-couldn’t care less.” Talking is harder than breathing for him.

You lean up from the counter and start twirling your hair in a way that makes him want to carve out another galaxy for you. Just for you. Anything for you.

“Movie night? I’ve been wanting to—“

“Yes.” Suguru is almost embarrassed at how quickly he cut you off. Like a fucking dog.

You laugh again and stroll to your refrigerator. He knows you’re lamenting the missed croissants. And he knows you know there’s a 99.99% chance he’s already gotten them for you. Because he is silly putty for you. He crumbles to stardust in your hands.

Because he’s your best friend.

“I got them.” Suguru rasps out. Hands moving so fast up his shaft, precum surging out his tip. He’s so close. So fucking—

“God I love you.”

And he snaps. Hot, thick ropes of his cum splay everywhere. Suguru draws metallic from his bottom lip, clenching down so hard not to give himself away.

You said it so innocently. So platonically. And it shifted his entire world on its axis.

His best fucking friend.

“Love you too, I’ll be there at 8.”

PART. II

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frmisnow · 2 months

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✧˖ ?!— THE ASSHOLE THAT MIGHT MAKE YOU FORGIVE & FORGET. - (NSFW.)

— ‧₊˚ — 🍸: "wanna make you hate being touched by anybody else but me, i'll be so selfish with you ??"

summary. despite your best efforts at avoiding your much-hated hookup boxer, he somehow finds a way to your apartment claiming he's here for your own good benefit, being a total ass- does he even have the ability to change? well, he's determinded to make you forgive & forget... in his own unique ways!

notes. haven't written full blown smut in quite a while aaahhhh also my longest fic up to date??? - this is part two of TWO WHORES IN A ROOM, THEY MIGHT KISS but can be read on it's own.

warnings/includes. (MDNI!!) non idol! jungkook x f! reader, they still kinda hate eachother sry (tiny bit of character development in the middle tho), elements of angst, making out, he's a bit of a dick :/, reader is kind of a therapist (pls don't go around in real life trying to fix ppl!!), tit/nipple play, riding, kook sub tendency towards the end, unprotected sex (she's on the pill tho), not proofread :/

you starred blankly at the text bubble he sent you a minute ago, hell- it was 2 am- you blinked repeatedly, reading it once more:

unknown number (jeon ) : i'm outside your apartment

you've done your absolute best avoiding him at all costs, you couldn't no- you shouldn't at all, never ever form a connection with him and though you'd usually be okay with having a little fling, you didn't want to be associated with him nor did you want to see his face. it was a hate fuck, nothing more, nothing less - but he always knew just how to ruin your plans.

you looked outside the window, actually sighting a figure, a motorcycle close to them as the person lifted it's head shortly from their phone, you quickly typed in a response.

y/n ( reader ) : how do you know my number, how do you know my adress and what makes you think i'll open the door unknown number (jeon ) : i'm cold

the simplicity of the incoming answer, made you roll your eyes, opening the window instantly after reading yelling out to the person: "i'll call the police for stalking"

he instantly yells back, "you don't actually have any intentions of calling the police. you want to see me" with every word stepping a bit closer to your apartment, now practically being next to your door.

"ha," you let out till full blown starting to laugh, "i wanna see you?" the smile from the laugh still plastered of your face, "you really think so?"

"oh i'm sure of it, what else is there to do on a saturday night? i just know you've been thinking bout my big dick all day, i know it makes you sick- but y'know what? i'm here to fix it for you" he looks up to you while delivering his dialogue in a sarcastic tone like he's the savior of the world, his smirk coming back once more.

you skipped down the stairs, opening the door just a few centimeters, enough to see your face, not enough to completly look into your apartment, answering him back now face to face, giving him a rather unimpressed look: "right, you showed up but somehow u're still blabbering 'bout me wanting you here, but whatever go on- tell me i'm the needy cockslut who wants you right now"

his hands reach out to presumably touch your tits as you make the split of the open door a little smaller so his hands won't fit through while he makes a tiny sound of disapproval in the mean time almost like a 'tsk tsk' until he starts talking again:

"you're standing here in your pjs at 2am opening up your door for no other then me and that says just enough"

you stand there silent for just a few seconds till bouncing back on his answer, "don't get it twisted, i wanted to see what you have to say for yourself-"

his smug little smirk on his face grows bigger as you speak, his words dripping with sarcasm as if you're playing right into his hands "oh so you are interested in what i have to say?"

"very much so but so far you've been talking a lot of shit which doesn't necessarly surprise me either"

jungkooks grin still remains maybe even gets bigger, his voice dripping of sarcasm, "oh c'mon you love anything that has a dick for you to suck on, you're not big on words"

you open the door a bit more further, sighing like you're tired: "well quite frankly i don't feel like having your dick in my mouth"

he runs his hands through his hair, few seconds of silence passing when he finally responds now a little more serious: "are you really gonna act like you didn't enjoy the last time we're together?"

you gulp, for the first time avoiding eye contact: "well not everything revolves around sex"

"ah well isn't that cute, trying to play innocent?" his smile suddenly disappears, his brow furrowing as he gives you a serious look, "look at me. right on the eyes"

you look him in the eyes again, voice getting just a bit louder: "you don't get it, you see any pussy and jump straight onto it then leave which would be fine- but i don't want us to be fuck buddies, i don't want us being awkward at work, i don't want to form an attraction beyond sex to you in any way and i won't even risk it- and you? you don't even think about anything, you just think with your dick"

his eyebrow raises as he lets out a chuckle and rolls his eyes, "yeah, yeah i guess i am quite a shitty guy for not wanting anything more than just to dick you down for all eternity"

you rest your head on the wall next to the door in frustration, making a sound close to a sigh again: "you'll leave me in a week, i'll get attached, you'll make fun of me- i don't want that" surprisingly honest and serious.

he stares at you for few seconds longer, you're not making eye contact anymore, still pressed on the wall your head facing downwards. he sighs and his eyes close as he takes a deep breath as if preparing himself for what he's about to say: "you really think that little of me huh?"

you respond calmly though still avoiding his eyes, admitting in all honesty: "you've given me no reason to think more of you"

and for the first time since you've ever seen him, you see jungkook generally hurt, his eyes not settling as he begins to slowly nod like he understood, taking a step back from the door, "i'll leave you alone"

you watch him take a few steps- but you just can't do this. he was right, for the first time in everything he has said so far- he was right: you wanted him. you didn't know if you wanted him beyond sex but you weren't gonna figure this out right now either so you made the spontanous gut decision, you swiftly walked behind him- grabbing his arm, stopping him.

"you can call me a dumb whore- but i've changed my decision, i don't want you to leave"

you can almost see his brain working your words out one by one till he returns to good old self, voice thick of sarcasm, a sly grin making it's way onto his face once more "oh and why's that?"

"can you shut up?"

it's a messy kiss. desperate, longing, needing - telling. his hands not settling, moving all across your body, squeezing and kneading wherever they can in a matter of time you both stumble back into your apartment, lips not breaking apart not even once even as he closes the front door with his foot, deepening the kiss mean while.

you get pushed back onto the couch, your lips still locked together as his hands move under your clothes, taking off each item of your clothing at lightning speed, like he's trying to tear them all apart.

you break away in the mean time to breathe as you basically pant, taking the short time to look down onto yourself, practically naked then look at him who still had way to many clothes on for your liking, "not fair" your words barerly good said as he basically swallowed them by kissing you once more.

he shifts his position again, wrapping his arms around your bare waist, pulling you onto his lap, groaning into the kiss, trying his best to combine keeping you in place with one hand and cupping your face rather violently with the other.

"please," you pull his pants just a bit to get your point across, "not fair" repeating what you already said like a broken toy in addition you pouted which y'know gets u sympathy points usually, you wanted to feel him- it was only fair.

"oh look who's upset?" a grin splarred over his face, tone mocking maybe even belittling, "you'll have to earn it" running his fingers through one of your hair strands till his gaze returns to your eyes.

"i thought we were over this," you whined till throwing your head back in frustration, "please, i was so nice"

"nice? you called me a shitty guy, thought little of me and basically called me a womanizer among other things." he puts both of his hands on your knees and spreads your legs apart more so you sit wider on him, "and you really think that 'pretty pretty please' is gonna be enough?"

no matter how good he was of a fucker, you weren't just gonna throw away your morals for him completly so you bluntly responded: "the fact that i'm even on your lap right now after some of the shit you said is pretty damn nice of me"

"fair point" he admits and his hands wander up your body once more, tracing each and every curve of your body, holding you down tightly to stop you from moving "you're not a nice girl. you know what you are?"

you responded instantly before he could say anything, putting a finger on his mouth to pervent more bullshit coming from that pretty mouth of his: "don't call me a whore, i won't tolerate slut shaming anymore when you're just as much of one as me, if not more"

he squeezed your thighs during your little speach, acting like a brat who doesn't give two shits about whatever you're saying, "you know i love it when you try to play this 'respect me' act, acting like you really are not some little whore that just wants to get pounded into a matress till she can't take it anymore"

you rolled your eyes immediately, taking in a deep breath: "everytime i have the feeling like i'm getting somewhere with you, i'm talking you developing your brain from teenage boy age 13 to 14, you piss me of even more- god i fucking hate you"

he leans forward, his body even closer to yours, a cruel smile crossing his face, "oh i love the way you get angry" his hot breath hitting your face and his eyes locked into yours, "it makes you look so helpless"

you get closer to his face, now inches apart to make sure the next few sentences really get to him: "i just want you to know that whatever you'll think after this whole thing, i want you to know that you didn't magically pull me in, i'm not helpless neither are you the only person with good dick in this shitplace, you're an avaible option that can be replaced at any given moment, you are a whore that goes around and gets used, no matter how much you hate that fact or not, it's the damn truth, so start being a fucking man and accept it, suck it up" you say something he'd say to you, a taste of his own medicine if you will.

you see it on his face that you've managed to finally get to him, like he's actually taken aback by something for once. your words seemed to cut him deeply and he just stares at you, his breath shaky and his eyes big, wide doed like you've never seen before.

"okay," you take his hands away from your thighs locking them with yours, face still close to his, holding eye contact, "it's okay, it's okay to have sex, it's okay to want to live a free live but you have to communicate that and stop being a prick, stop using girls, stop blowing your ego up and then maybe we could have something" you whisper it as calmly as she can, squeezing his hands every once in a while like you actually want to help him.

he looked onto the both hands locked together till squeezing your hand back, his voice trembling as he tries to remain calm when speaking, "why are you still being so nice to me?"

"you know you do this thing where i look at you and you say something so good, so rational and it happens every once in a while where i think to myself- this is why i can't leave our whole thing alone cause somewhere just somewhere there still is that one valueable dude, it's just-" you sigh, till burrying your head on his shoulder in frustration, "i'm so stupid, i feel like i'll always come back to you, i don't know if that's good"

he almost automatically wraps his arms around your figure and now is the time where you actually do feel helpless in his arms, god- you were so stupid.

he buries his face in your hair, breathing you in, he didn't want to feel this vulnerable around you- it almost hurt to let his emotions show "oh c'mon- don't say that, please" his voice is shaky and his words carry a clear feeling of hurt.

"i always used to say that i don't believe that people can change, it's funny how you try to make excuses and loopholes for your morals when you actually experience something on your own," you straighten up your posture, removing your head from his shoulder, avoiding his eyes while trying to gather your thoughts.

his voice still carries the same shaky emotion as he speaks "why are you avoiding eye contact?" he burries his head against your chest, rubbing against it like trying to make you look at him, softly beginning to lick the skin.

the more he nibbles and licks on your skin, the more little mumbles against the skin are hearable, "i'll make you forgive me" or "i'll make you forget" - it's like a trance.

his tongue getting to your tits, "look at me, please" he pleads like not having your attention on him even for just a few seconds is a crime sentence - at the same time wrapping his lips around one of your hardened nipples, sucking with just as much passion.

he leaves thick traces of saliva on both ones, an occasional muffeled moan slipping out, "could do this forever, i could die happy with one of- mmh" giving both of them his full diverted attention like he had to make sure the other one doesn't feel left out.

when his head comes up from your chest, his eyes are half-lidded, hair is all over the place, a little bit of saliva in the corner of his mouth yet he instantly cups your face kissing you again and again.

everytime he breaks away just shortly to breathe he whispers something into the air then immediately kisses you, swallowing the words like they were dangerous to fly around unanswered.

"wanna do this forever, have you on my tongue over and over again till my tongue goes numb, till i can't taste or feel anymore"

"wanna have you in every position you can think of, wanna fuck you so much your body only remembers me, my shape, my dick- everything, only me"

"wanna make you hate being touched by anybody else but me, i'll be so selfish with you"

dangerous words.

dangerous words that feel a bit to real.

it's so evident he has long lost any control over himself, those eyes still so doed like he's begging you to give in, fully drop your boundaries, to give into his fantasies. eyes locking with yours to speak up just once more like he's admitting something, voice more quiet:

"fuck it, i'm already way to selfish with you"

your hands find the zipper of his pants right before opening, pausing to say something yourself, "i'm selfish too, i choose what i want in the moment instead of what would be better for me in the longterm" you pressed your lips onto his almost to shut down your own thoughts, the important ones, the conscious ones that were barerly left till breaking off again, "i don't care, not right now"

you can already feel his hard cock rub against your panties through the jeans material, "i'm so hard it hurts" he looked at you so pleadingly like you were the doctor with the medicine to safe his life, like this was a do or die situation, a tiny cheeky pout on his face, "can you fix me?"

you didn't know if he was talking about himself as a whole or his cock but regardless you took his hands in order for him to stand up so it would be easier to remove his pants and boxers doing it all in one swift motion.

making him sit down onto the coach once again, he whined at the feeling of cold air on his bare skin and you not immediately sitting down onto him, you strip down your pretty ruined panties, his eye not knowing where to look as he played with his lip ring, tilting his head like he's tryna get a better view.

his hands reach out practically on their own, yearning to get his hands onto anything yours, "sit down, ride me" jungkooks tone shaky yet he tried his best to hide that (not rly working) as he added a tiny quiet "please" at the end of it, barerly audible to the average ear.

you couldn't help but chuckle at the fact that he was behaving like a child (nothing unusual) but the laugh got cut of by a moan as your pussy practically swallowed his length, his hands instantly quite harshly going to your hips, leading you- maybe even guiding.

"fuck yea-" his voice so awfully strained as his both of your hips moved in sync, his fingernails digging into your soft skin, making you groan.

"missed this pussy so much," he moaned out, throwing his head back onto the coach headboard till he weakly added: "so obssesed with you, i've been wanting this tight- mmh, fuck- ever since-"

he couldn't finish his sentence neither did he look like he could form any coherient thoughts, face scrunched up in pleasure, a bit of sweat on his forehead- and you probably didn't look any better yourself.

your walls clenched around him out of sheer response, you were so wrong- this was such bad decision, it would be so hard to let him go after this, it would-

"gonna cum, fuck- i can't"

his pressed out words cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife, the skin slapping noises suddenly feeling louder then they had been before, your own pussy clenching around him once again.

"can't hold it back, i don-"

he was going to leave marks on your hips for sure, you bet he didn't even realize how hard he had been squeezing the poor skin, occasionally moving to your ass.

you moaned yourself, feeling your own orgasm approaching, jungkooks eyes closed, lips parting slightly like he's on the top stage of ecstasy somewhere over the rainbow as you could feel your own walls getting coated with cum.

your body instantly went weak after, lightly collpasing onto his chest as though he seemed unusually tired he wrapped his arms around your back, stroking the skin and bone structure slowly.

it felt so comforting even your eyes closed, you felt so tired- what time was it again?

"fuck- i forgot the condom" his fingers paused, the shook in his voice audible.

"i'm on the pill, we're good" you closed your eyes again, now the clear goal was to fall asleep.

yet y'know how it was with your plans and jungkook- he cut through them as he lied still for a few minutes till whispering, "i don't hate you by the way" his fingers now again continuing the gentle act on your back even slower then before like a quit lullaby, "not even one bit"

"i know"

#kpop smut #bts ff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts imagines #bts x you #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #bts imagine #bts #bts ffs #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #jeon jungkook

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anticanonsposts · 4 months

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Sex-mishaps w/ König

let’s be real mistakes happen during sex (a lot) and most writing doesn't include it (mine included) , so here are some that happen w/ König

nsfw-mdni

cw: blood, injury, crying, anger?, reference to female anatomy

you both have your fair share of doing slightly embarrassing things during sex, most of them happened during your first few times but obvi these things don’t have an expiration date

some of yours...

once after the two of you were apart for two weeks and you finally had sex again, you started crying a little

nothing hysterical, you were just very overwhelmed with the pleasure and intimacy that you had been missing

since it was really just your eyes welling up, he didn’t notice until you had orgasmed and once he did he was very concerned, thinking he had hurt you or rushed things

but you assured him you were fine, and then pounced on him to finish him off, getting rid of any worry he had

another time, the first time he ever called you schatz was during sex, and not knowing what it meant you truly thought it was the name of someone else

you had been riding him, he had a death grip on your butt/hips murmuring praises while his eyes were glued to your body

then he says it, ‘just like that schatz’ which causes you to scrunch your face up in confusion and then anger ‘What the fuck did you just say?!’ he sits up when you say this trying to bring you closer to him ‘say what, I’m sorry, y/n what?’ and you not so gently push him to lay back down with your palms against his chest

you start to get off of him but he keeps his grip on you and pulls you back down ‘what is schatz?’

there it is, that fucking name again, who did he think he is, ‘who is that?’ you ask back and his eyes wander for a second before gulping, finally understanding

'schatz means treasure liebling '

‘oh fuck me’ you say completely embarrassed, covering your face with your hands ‘I’m so fucking sorry, did I hurt you’ you say assessing any damage (there’s none) you made to his chest when you pushed him

he just chuckles and forgives you

(it was honestly kind of hot, how you got mad) (whenever you are assertive he gets really turned on hehehe)

another one of your first few times you go over to his place, you two start going at it and you don’t think and before you know it you are squirting on his bed

you feel so bad because you made a huge wet patch and you keep covering your face and he is just rumbling with laughter partly because of your polite reaction but also because he was just proud that he made you squirt!!

now onto him...

one time he came way to fast and felt so bad

you had been laying down under him, grinding yourself on his leg that he had placed in between yours

and you just looked so pretty, and your noises were so sweet and hot

then you really got him by pulling your shirt up, exposing your tits to him

while you continued grinding on his leg, he took them in his hands/mouth and started grinding back onto your hip

everything just kept feeling better and better until before he knew it he felt his climax approaching

groaning into your neck, you started to feel a slight wet spot form against his pants

breathlessly you looked up at him ‘did you?....’

‘scheisse!’ he replied as he pulled away from you sitting up on his knees, trying to cover his face with a hand, completely fucking embarrassed, he wasn’t even inside of you, you didn’t even touch him :(

in this moment he thought for sure you wouldn’t want to do anything with him ever again, that he was pathetic, that he was not able to perform

you just looked at him with a hazy look telling him not to worry and that you didn’t mind in the slightest

if anything, you told him that it was pretty hot that he got off to just making out/dry humping with you

similar to another fic I wrote ('sex drought' check it out its great) one time you were on top of him and he was fucking up into you...

he got a little over zealous while cumming and unexpectedly gave a really hard thrust which sent you flying forward with the force of his core/thighs

before you could processes what was happening your head was already slamming into his nose

it took him longer to realize what happened than you, he started bleeding everywhere and you were so worried that you broke your bf’s nose :(

you two end up going to the hospital and opt to just explain what happened to the doctor so that they didn’t think it was any sort of domestic violence

könig was blushing the whole time and the nurse/doctor just raised their eyebrows and said wow

long story short, it wasn’t broken, just a lot of blood

this also resulted in you cradling his head every night giving him so many kisses because you felt so bad (he liked the baby treatment so he wasn’t gonna complain)

overall...awkward/embarrassing stuff happens but you two just laugh it off

#konig cod #konig x reader #konig smut #konig mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod smut #cod mw2 #konig blurb #call of duty smut #konig imagine

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dalliancekay · 1 month

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Aziraphale does NOT need to suffer MORE

Can't believe I have to say this. TW: grief, mourning, death (sorry) I have, since falling into the fandom 6 months ago to escape real life, seen many takes on how Aziraphale needs to suffer in S3 to match Crowley's suffering. Mainly as the counterpart to the moment Crowley thinks he lost Aziraphale as he's looking for him desperately in the burning bookshop.

Then drinks, we suppose, to dull his pain, waiting for the Armageddon. Also, the way Crowley suffers at the bandstand argument, the 'I Forgive You' moments, which many people find utterly devastating and incredibly heartless from Aziraphale. Not to mention when he doesn't react in the 'right way' to Crowley's confession in the Final 15. And then on top of that, 'abandons' Crowley. Oh and also for, and I quote: "The smug and entitled way Aziraphale went around in S2 assuming Crowley would love and follow him everywhere." And for all this pain that Crowley endured for him, Aziraphale should suffer in S3, to I assume, even out the scores. Some people want to see him lose it, show his emotions, to cry or beg or otherwise show how much he misses Crowley and how very sorry he is for what he's done.

Now for the TW grief content I motioned above. You can skip to the next sentence in bold.

WE ALL SUFFER DIFFERENTLY I was on holiday late September last year, visiting my mum, stepfather and my two younger brothers. We went to a cousin's wedding. It was great. The day after, as I was hanging out reading a book my mum got a call. The kind of call every mother fears. My youngest brother (he was 27) died in an accident. We needed to speak to police and the coroner. She cried and cried. She's still crying. She asks questions. She gets no answers. I did not cry. I talked to the police. I googled a funeral home. I bought my brother his last set of clothes. He lived in a hoodie and torn black jeans. Mum wanted a suit. But he died in the one he bought for the wedding. I texted a lot of people. I bought snacks for the many friends who came to the funeral and wanted to speak to us after. My grief feels like a vice. I am not sad. I do not appear sad. Contrary to what people expect. But I am ANGRY. I am furious. But nobody can see this. I am not fine and I wish no one would ever* ask how I was again. TW/Personal content over. Since I was small (because I am weird like that) I genuinely wondered if, finding myself in danger, I could scream like people in films do. I don't think I could. I cope with hard situations, fear and stress and anxiety by shutting down, sometimes by retreating too, by furiously trying to find a way out. And I think Aziraphale does the same. And that's why I love him so much. And why I feel get him and understand that people sometimes can't tell how much he's actually feeling. I also express love the way Aziraphale does - by organising things for people I love, inviting them places, making plans. When Crowley said you call me for three things (and it's basically any old reason) I felt SO SEEN. This is what I would do with a friend who I know is feeling unmoored, sad, stuck. I'd text them with any old thing. I'd never actually say I love you, how can I help though, I would try to get them to talk, meet me, go somewhere. Aziraphale does not express emotions the same way as Crowley.

But his emotions are valid nonetheless. He is worried for Crowley from around 3 minutes into their acquaintanceship. And he NEVER stops worrying.

And are we quite sure he has never lost Crowley?

How many times did Aziraphale's heart freeze in horror when he realised Hell has taken Crowley and he had no idea if he'll ever come back and what is happening to him?

How did Aziraphale spent the night after vanquishing the demons and starting a war? He had no idea where Crowley was. He was probably sick with worry that Hell just took him away. We didn't see him drink, but surely, the worry must have been overwhelming. The wait for what will happen.

ALL his worries over the Arrangement. Was he worried for himself? Do we really think that?

Crowley thought he lost Aziraphale in S1, yes, we saw that. And what happened to the angel then?

He got blown into atoms which I bet wasn't pleasant and when he arrives in Heaven he limps. Why is he hurt? Why is he quickly pretending he isn't? Why is he always hiding how he feels? Also, he immediately deserts, wants no part in the Holy War and quickly finds an extremely unconventional way to get back. It's not a grand gesture, he doesn't deliberate, doesn't worry that he will Fall (although surely that must have been what he thought), there's no pomp around it, he thinks it and then does it. No hesitation.

Is this coming from an angel who just can't leave Heaven behind and longs to be a part of it? Who loves to follow rules? And let's not forget in those moments Aziraphale thought Crowley was most likely gone. That he probably left for Alpha Centauri. Last he heard from him he was told he was talking to an old friend and had no time for him. Why we NEVER talk about how that might have felt for Aziraphale?

Things are not as simple as Aziraphale has been supressing his emotions and lying to himself about how he feels and he should get over it and become free. That's not how this works. He was suppressing his emotions OUT OF LOVE. His main goal was always to keep Crowley safe. They simply couldn't run away or hoodwink Heaven and Hell. They had nowhere to go. They had no hope and yet they kept loving each other. That's courage. I know we all grew up with Romeo and Juliet and Heathcliff and Cathy and we FORGOT that those were CAUTIONARY tales. And this is not what Aziraphale wants for them. He would never allow himself to go so fast he would hurt Crowley. He feels guilty enough for agreeing to the Arrangement and for meeting Crowley at all when he knows they can be discovered and punished at any point. And Crowley knows it and RESPECTS it. He does not tolerate Aziraphale's decision to not go on a date and to hell with circumstances. He understands Aziraphale's reasoning and he respects Aziraphale's decision. Don't forget, they have NO POWER. They can't change Heaven and Hell. They can't stop believing in God and work on their religious trauma. Their Heaven and Hell are real places with real power and they BELONG to them. Aziraphale's trauma and his personality are deeply intertwined and he'd probably never be the kind of person who is open in showing their grief or stress. He will learn to be more open, I' sure. With his love especially, we see him reaching for and touching his demon in S2. Openly being with him, looking at him without guarding himself. They got a little bit of freedom for themselves despite ALL odds. So. Just because Aziraphale is not crying and screaming and I dunno, tearing his hair out or whatever some people would have him do, does not mean he isn't overflowing with pain, fear, uncertainty, doubts, worries, and so much anxiety that if he let it all out, half of the solar system would turn to ashes.

Aziraphale does not need to suffer in S3 to level out Crowley's suffering. They are, unfortunately, equal in their pain as they are in love. If there is one thing Crowley would never abide, it'd be this take from the fandom. * One more note on grief: (obviously from my personal experience) As initiated by @anthony-crowleys-left-nut in a comment

It's not that I mind to know people care and worry etc, but asking how I am can only end in me lying (fine, thank you) and both of us knowing it's not really true and feeling awkward or not lying (I feel like shit, mostly cos I can't sleep and think the world is a stupid unfair place) and both of us feeling awkward anyway. Does that make sense? I wish I could tell friends/colleagues to ask what I've been up to or something similar instead. What I've been reading (um, AO3, but I'll make something up), watching, do I want to go see some spring flowers bloom (I do).

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #neil gaiman #ineffable divorce #aziraphale my beloved #good omens thoughts #aziraphale defense squad #suffering in silence #grief #tw grief #dealing with grief #loss #tw death #kaypost

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literaila · 2 months

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the brunch

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru does not get jealous, just so everyone knows

a/n: (that previous statement was a lie) the brainrot is real

last part | next part

year four.

it’s a bit unusual for the house to be this filled, especially this early in the morning.

chatter echoes throughout the space, loud exclamations, and secret whispers, all making up a terrible-sounding symphony.

megumi and tsumiki are playing some elaborate board game with onlookers on the coffee table, both of them smiling proudly.

satoru is trying to tidy up the many different plates and cups everyone's left lying around, laughing when shoko rolls her eyes at something he's just said.

and you're in the kitchen, talking with nanami like you haven't seen him in several years--it's been three weeks.

it's very strange for the four of you. to let anyone--not to mention a dozen people--intrude on your carefully planned out saturday mornings. to invite others into your world of burnt breakfasts and uncombed bedhead.

but here you all are, managing.

and you’d reminded satoru probably seventeen times—too many times, he thinks, with far too many knowing glances—that hosting was not something to be taken lightly (and that you weren’t going to help him ((both of you know that you are)).

but he doesn’t mind this.

the crowded house, or the many different phone calls he had to make about getting this party (which he swore wasn’t one) set up. the loud sounds or the inevitable cleanup he'll try to swindle his way out of.

it’s quite nice. actually, satoru is a little proud of his makeshift brunch, and the fact that everyone came, and everyone seems happy. he likes that he can barely hear his thoughts, that there's nothing important enough for him to think about anyway.

and honestly, with all of it going on, satoru should not be this discontented with the fact that you’re��smiling at someone else.

he invited nanami because he knows that you miss him and that you’re too embarrassed to admit that. or too proud, maybe. too forgiving. and he knows that you wouldn’t have done it yourself, had he not gotten involved.

but still. should satoru really have to sit back and watch as you fawn over a man who wore a suit to casual brunch?

no, he should not, thank you.

"what's wrong with your face?" shoko asks him after the silence has drawn on for too long, sounding very uninterested.

satoru shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. "what?"

"you've got a weird look."

"no, i don't."

"it's like that time that you chugged the entire carton of expired milk someone left in the fridge."

"don't remind me," he says, trying to put on a theatrical wince, but he just ends up looking back at you, with a blank face.

there is no time for joking, or flamboyancy, or caring about anything else in the world.

shoko does the same, her eyes trailing where his are, watching as you tilt your head at nanami, laughing when he murmurs something.

in typical nanami fashion, his lips only twitch a little bit, but it's enough to tell that he's amused by whatever conversation you're having.

that he's got your full attention, and he gets to watch your eyes as they shift from one glance to another and--

shoko nods, looking back to satoru, who is trapped in his stare. chained down at the mere thought of you. "oh," she says, rolling her eyes.

satoru doesn't look away, but grunts in the form of a question.

"you're an idiot, you know that?"

he frowns. "what?"

her eyes are exasperated, and her smile is all-knowing. she has always alluded satoru, and his very short attention span. and he kind of hates her, at this moment, for distracting him.

"seriously," she scoffs at his perturbed face, "after a whole year of living basically in the same room, i thought that the two of you would finally get over it."

"who?" satoru asks, smiling confusedly. "get over what?"

"you. get over yourself. honestly, only you and y/n would raise two kids together and pretend like there's no intimacy in it."

"what?"' satoru repeats, dumbly.

"and, by the way," shoko tells him, sipping on her drink. "jealousy is not cute."

and then she walks away, like she's answered a single one of satoru's questions.

and he frowns, thinking about it.

because--no, there's no way she was talking about him--he shakes his head. where would she even have gotten that idea? there's--

no.

and it’s—it’s not jealousy. he laughs off that thought.

satoru gojo is the strongest. he's the one everyone looks to. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

and besides satoru knows that you don’t get enough time away from your discombobulated family. that your life revolves around them, and they around you.

and the two of you have talked—at length—about the fact that you’re both young, and neither of you should live the lifestyle of some middle-aged parents, with no way to connect with the people in your age group. the people that would’ve been your family, in some alternate universe.

satoru knows that you don’t carve out the things that you need without being asked to, that you get anxious about these types of occasions--he's watched it happen before, when you were forced into a corner at one exchange event the two of you shared, or when yaga took you all out to dinner, and you'd shrink yourself in your seat until someone noticed.

he's seen you try to make yourself smaller at the convenience of others, and as he's grown (he almost winces at the thought) satoru has sworn to himself that he'd keep you from any situation where that might be necessary.

so he shouldn’t--he doesn't--mind that you’re having a good time. he should be--is--happy with himself, for setting it up so you could, for planning it around you, and the kids. he should be preparing himself to gloat in your face about the fact that he thought of this, and he set it up all on his own.

god. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

but that doesn't change the fact that satoru can't really see beyond you, ten feet away from him, laughing at something that nanami said.

and maybe it's not the fact that you're talking to him, or that you're smiling at him like satoru wants to be smiled at, he thinks, but more that you don't act that way with him.

satoru is well aware of the grounds in your relationship, and he knows that you spend most of your days rolling your eyes at the obnoxious things that he says, trying to protect the children--and him--from the antics that you've all grown used to.

he's not jealous, but maybe he's a little bit annoyed that he hasn't seen you this easy, and light since you were still in school. since you were still younger than him, and still someone he could look down upon.

you cling to nanami like satoru clings to you, he realizes, sullenly. you smile and tease--if just the way your eyes crinkle means anything.

you grin at nanami like you're trying to irritate him. like you're the reckless one between the two.

and maybe it hurts satoru more just to know that you are the reckless one.

he'd lived with the two of you for three years. he'd experienced nanami's typical brooding--which, now, reminds him a lot of megumi, actually--and the way he'd think through everything. maybe a little bit too much, even.

satoru was always there to watch you giggle alongside the austere man, pull him out of whatever thought process was darkening the mood, and remind him that none of it was all that serious.

satoru knows--he knows--that you and him are similar. he knows that it's why he feels the way he does with you. that the way the two of you dance around your emotions, and say nothing that you truly mean is something to cherish, if also something to despise.

he's not jealous, but maybe it hurts satoru because he knows that you've never been able to truly not care, with him. that he takes up all of the ignorance one household can get, even without meaning to.

or maybe it's just been a long time since he got the chance to watch you interact with anyone else.

maybe he's just ridiculous, and he should go do something else before he thinks about this for too long. shoko is wrong, though, he thinks. he's definitely not jealous.

he's satoru gojo. he doesn't have anything to be jealous about.

but he's still watching when you shake your head at something nanami says, tapping him on the shoulder and excusing yourself while waving him on, still light and airy, eyes meeting satoru's with that same grin.

it's probably worse to know that it doesn't quite belong to him. that he's not the sole benefactor of it all.

"hey," you say, bumping into him on purpose when you come over, your hands wrapping around his forearm as you lean on him. "need help?"

"nah, i've got it," he finally looks away. he doesn't want to watch this.

but you're still grinning at him, trying to catch his eye--even with the sunglasses. "you're all alone over here," you coo, "i can help you clean up."

satoru snorts. "i thought you weren't going to help with anything."

"well, since i'm already here..." you drawl, beginning to pick up spare utensils, and napkins. all of the things he'd been too distracted to do.

you're humming as you do it, completely content with everything.

satoru tries not to grind his teeth at the fact that your mood is not because of him.

"how's nanami?" he asks, unprecendented, after a moment.

you shrug. "he's good. i guess the real world sucks too," you say it with a lilt, like there's an inside joke that satoru is missing.

he shakes his head, trying to keep his words civil. "the real world?"

"the corporate universe, and laws of reality, or whatever," you roll your eyes, and you sound exactly like him. "no curses or magic to liven things up."

"no monsters, you mean."

"or that," you smile at him, looking almost giddy.

satoru hums.

you put all of the trash you've collected on a serving dish, piling things up without a care in the world. and then you turn towards satoru, and he can feel your slight frown before he can see it. "you okay?" you ask him.

satoru freezes. "what?"

"is it getting to you? the brunch?"

"what? no, i'm fine," he tries to look at you like you're ridiculous, but his face feels stiff, and wrong, and far too happy for you.

"you look like your tongue is too big to fit in your mouth."

he sticks his tongue out, almost on command. "does it look any different?"

"hmm," you pretend to observe. "yeah. might want to see a doctor about it."

"noted."

"are you trying not to laugh at something? you can tell me if i have something on my face, you know."

satoru's smile is a bit easier at that, but he shakes his head anyway. he kind of wants to run away to his room--something he's learned from raising two children. "no, i'm just thinking."

you raise a brow.

satoru scowls. "what? you didn't think it was possible?"

"no, not really."

he shakes his head. he tries to turn away, scoffing like it's a joke (it's not), but your hand reaches for his bicep before he can.

"hey," you say to him. he turns back to you, and your smile, nose scrunched up as you lean in. "how are you?"

"busy. i have to go make sure there's enough ice in that bucket."

"i'll come with you," you say, even though you both know that he's lying.

"no. i'm sure nanami has more he wants to talk with you about."

"is that what this is about? nanami? are you mad at him, or something?"

"why would i be mad at him?"

"i don't know, satoru, your brain is a confusing thing," you tug on his hair just a little bit. "hey, c'mon. why're you upset?"

"i'm not upset."

satoru should be basking in your attention, but he can't quite bring himself to notice it. or that you spend every day with him--mostly without complaint--and never fail to laugh at something he says.

no, his thoughts are not very organized, at the moment.

"you've got your little angry pout on," you nudge his lips with a finger. "i think you've been spending too much time with megumi."

he grabs your hand, trying not to squeeze. "i'm fine. go hang out. you're not supposed to be helping me."

this time, you pout. "you don't want to spend time with me?"

he groans, throwing his head back. "i'm trying to be nice," he tells you. "you know, like how you're always telling me to?"

"ew," you say, giggling a little bit. "i don't like it."

he rolls his eyes.

"seriously, come hang out with me and the kids. we can beat them at charades, or something, again. you need a little pep in your step."

"what are you, my mom?" he deadpans but feels his heart twitch a little bit because you're still holding onto him.

"might as well be. take a break, satoru, i miss you."

you say it so easily and nonchalantly that satoru wants to pick you up and lock you in a little box, just so you can never talk to anyone but him again.

he stares at you, blinking beneath his glasses, feeling like you're doing all of this just to mess with him.

honestly, whiplash is a serious condition.

you smile at him, fluttering your eyelashes unknowingly, pouting at him a little bit, even through the smile.

and satoru's never been able to say no to you, so he lets you pull him with you, back to the kitchen, where you grab nanami too--to the dismay of satoru, of course. he tries not to glare.

and satoru chooses to ignore the discerning look that nanami sends him, and the fact that his arm tightens around your waist as you drag the two men along.

he's not jealous. god, it's just very loud in here.

somewhere several minutes earlier, when the two of you were standing just a little bit too close to each other, both of you pouting, looking like two children fighting over a toy--you had a couple of spectators.

shoko scoffs, shaking her head. "that's disgusting."

you're on your tiptoes, head tilted as you purr something to satoru. they can't see his eyes from twenty feet away, but they can all tell that they're stuck on you. glued, never to be torn away.

megumi looks at the woman, then follows her eyes to the two of you, blank-faced.

tsumiki giggles.

"we know," they both say, rolling their eyes.

next part | series masterlist

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flynnriderishot · 3 months

Text

scandals pt.2 - c.s

a/n: highly requested part 2 !! not much going on in this chapter except chris’ road to redemption lol

(i’ll do a part 3 if it’s also requested. i also wanted to thank you all for the support given recently, it means a lot 🫶🏾)

matt 🫡

chris wants me to drop him off at yours

he just saw the video that girl made and feels horrible

yn ‼️

please don’t

i don’t feel like talking to him rn

matt 🫡

yes ma’am 🫡

i know he’s my brother but i’m on your side for this one

just thought i should let you know

yn ‼️

thanks, matt

christopher ❤️✨

i’m so sorry

can we talk?

baby 🩷🩷👩‍❤️‍👨

now you wanna talk? after ignoring me for weeks and not allowing me to respond?

ur hilarious, chris

baby 🩷🩷👩‍❤️‍👨 changed christopher ❤️✨’s name

chris

she looks so much like you yn

you can’t blame me for thinking it was you

even matt and nick agreed

baby 🩷🩷👩‍❤️‍👨

matt and nick aren’t my boyfriend

i don’t need them to take my side and listen to what i have to say

and yet they were the ones there for me when you decided to act like a child and block me before i could say anything

chris

i’m sorry

what do you want me to do?

i was stupid and i should have spoken to you instead of going based off a picture

baby 🩷🩷👩‍❤️‍👨

i’m glad you’re aware of your stupidity

it hurts to know that a simple picture can convince you that i think so little about our relationship

chris

baby please

baby 🩷🩷👩‍❤️‍👨

i don’t wanna talk right now, okay?

chris

okay. i’m sorry

•••

after sending your final ‘thank you’ to jasmine, you put your phone down with a sigh.

while you were grateful that she had went out of her comfort zone to make things easier for you, you kind of wish she didn’t.

now you had to deal with the guilt of not immediately forgiving your boyfriend from him accusing you of cheating.

the ringing of your doorbell snapped out of your thoughts.

with furrowed brows, you made your way to the door, opening it to see no one there. what caught your eyes, however, was the large bouquet of flowers with a note attached to it sitting on your doorstep.

sighing softly, you brought the gift into your house, closing and locking the door behind you.

the carnation bouquet stared back at you before you decided that the note wouldn’t read itself.

hi, baby, it’s chris.

i got your favorite flowers sent to you because you said you wanted space. i already had planned to hand deliver them but i didn’t want to overstep.

i’m sorry for not listening to you. i feel like an idiot for not trusting you over a picture on the internet and i’ll do everything in my power to make it up to you. this is just the start.

i love you ♡

- chris

you couldn’t help the soft smile that took over your features. you were bitter of course, but you weren’t ungrateful.

yn 🤍🥳

tell your brother i said thanks for the flowers

nicolas 🥳🥸

you got them?

thank god. kid was on my ass about the delivery

he said you’re welcome and he misses you

you blew out a breath, knowing that even though he may have started the separation between you two, chris wouldn’t last very long without you in his presence.

and while matt and nick were used to his clinginess when you weren’t around, ie the two week separation between you two, it wouldn’t be long before they got annoyed by it.

it’s why you and chris worked out so well. chris craved the affection and you loved it to receive it.

so if you worked out so well, why was it so easy for him to think so little of you?

sturniolosdrama posted!

comments

sturniolosgirl y’all clearly didn’t see that girls tiktok

mattsbabygirl @/sturniolosdrama you’re so late 💀

chrisxyn @/yn.ln @/christophersturniolo please say this is fake

nickssecretary THERES A VIDEO CONFIRMING IT ISNT HER! CAN YALL RELAX @/yn.ln @/christophersturniolo

nicolassturniolo how are you a ‘drama’ account and can’t keep up to date with the ‘drama’ 💀 she didn’t cheat

liked by christophersturniolo and 12,596 others

>>> nicksgiraffehat so real 👏👏

pepsicolachris nick’s comment, the video and chris’ like in nick’s comment?! she didn’t cheat! y’all can calm tf down now 🙄

liked by yn.ln and 3,386 others

matthew.sturniolo bro what? 😭

liked by sturnsgirl and 13,486 others

madiswife chris deleted their pictures together! oh no! they’re broken up 😱

chrissturnsgf is this sarcastic?

>>> madiswife yes

yn.ln stop tagging me in this shit 😐

liked by ynsgirl and 22,586 others

nicolasxspace yn commented!!

vinniehackersbae it wasnt confirmed or denied that they broke up. leave it alone

liked by yn.ln and 2,486 others

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taglist - @blahbel668 @breeloveschris @y22226y @ratatioulle @strniololoverr @seobiiezs @stinkytinkywinky @hearts4chris @ellie-luvsfics @dancemomsfanee @sturniolosreads @matthewsspecial @sturniolopepsi @leah-loves-lilies @chrissturniolosblog @ksskianshd @christophersfilmer @haunted-headset @electrobutterfly @instantheartprincess @bri4nnaaaa @bb-1s-blog @zombieex @sleepysturnss @luvsturns @icedchailatee @ilovethesturniolotriplets @noirpxrker

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo

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koolades-world · 3 months

Note

omg no bc whoever requested the getting talked over thats me fr it happens so often 😭😭 but id like to add onto that and request smthng that happens to me a lot

imagine the brothers with an mc that feels like theyre an npc? i know this is a bad way of saying it but i dont know how else to describe it. what i mean is when it seems like none of your peers or friends really like you because when you talk, people reapond dryly or just straight up dont say anything or even act like they heard you and you have to repeat yourself multiple times just to be noticed and you just feel like the most forgettable person of the group

if you dont wanna write this like super specific prompt i get it no pressure

have a nice day :3

hello!! so glad you enjoyed the other thing I wrote that much that you requested an extension(? is that the right word???)! I just hope I don't repeat myself haha

super specific requests are my bread and butter honestly! helps me get a better idea of what you want and there hasn't been something I can't do yet

hope you enjoy <3

Mc who's treated like an NPC by others

Lucifer

at first, he's kind of part of the problem

the exchange program is just a chore to him, so he finds it easier to brush over things you say

but once he grows closer to you, he feels guilty for all the times he ever ignored you or made you repeat yourself

because of this, he finds himself hanging onto every word you say, and makes all those around him go silent when you're speaking

Mammon

he's another one who also doesn't take you that seriously at first

after he gets to know you, he acts as your voice for you if others refuse to listen

he refuses to let others trample you like that

he apologizes to you for them and eventually makes everyone forgive you themselves

Levi

he feels like he's in the same boat and relates to some level

sometimes, he also feels like he's forgotten by everyone but he also feels sometimes he's part of the problem

when he's in his own gaming world, everything is background noise to him

if someone else does it to you, he works up the courage to comfort you and give you his best listening ear

Satan

he gets mad on your behalf and won't hesitate to correct everyone around you both

he refuses to let someone he cares so deeply for be treated like they don't exist

quick to snap and respond like a smartass but be so sweet to you in the same moment

wants to make you realize that you're not forgettable to him

Asmo

he liked you from the very beginning and disliked the way others let you blend into the background

the first time it happened, he politely cleared his throat and let you continue

the second time it happened, he was much less polite

refuses to let others respond dryly and ensures their conversation with you is genuine

Beel

has always been more on the quiet side and kept to himself so he didn't notice until you formed a real bond

if he notices someone mistreating you, he inserts himself into your conversation and forces the other person to be nicer

he wants to make sure that you know that he’s always paying attention to you, so his eyes are always on you

feels guilty even though it’s not something he can control so he often apologizes leading to many cute moments together

Belphie

has a 6th sense that activates when someone is pretending you’re not there and such

if he’s present, even if he’s asleep, he turns to them on a dime and stares them down until they realize what he wants. he will wait as long as he needs

if he’s not present, he’ll be paying them a visit in their sleep!

you notice his demeanor change when it happens, and he gets noticeable sweeter <3 expect gifts and kisses

#obey me #obey me!#obey me satan #obey me x reader #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me levi #obey me lucifer #obey me belphie #obey me mammon #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mc

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fictionalstorybyme · 6 months

Text

Jaxson is a young hot dude and he knows a bit about how some people, boys mostly are in awe of his self-proclaimed awesomeness. He was very confident from years earlier and now at age eighteen he had a new group to torture with his cunning seductive smile and friendly manner. But he always had an agenda. He scoped out the students at the beginning of classes. He would trot in everyday in outfits that were made his admirers droll. His slender body was tailor made for the classic look of jeans and sneakers. He was able to pick out the various fetishes of each of the many who adored him as he flirted easily with boys, girls and teachers. He could map out a plan to get them to fall in love with him and used that to dominate and control them as he pleased. He possessed an arrogance and knew how to show his displeasure with a single look. An example was Ryan…

He had this way of making you feel you were the only person in the room, the party, the world that counted to him. His ability to focus on you with 100% of his soul, that attention was crazy addictive. He created inside jokes that he could pass along a crowded with just his expressive eyes. It seemed every time you looked for him, he was already looking at you. Our eyes met and he winked and did a facial gesture or stick out his tongue and made me laugh. It seemed every time that I wanted to leave, he was by my side and asked me. “You wanna get something to eat (when I was hungry) or just go for a ride in his convertible. He had this sixth sense of what was going on inside my head. “Trouble with the big brother?” “Trouble with your mom?” “You can talk to me if you want, you know I’m always here. Quiet is good, too.” The thing is that he was always right. How he could tell if the situation was my big brother or my younger brother, he just read me like a book. It was really nice when i thought it was because he really cared. I had the house swept for spy shit, but nothing. He would have been the one, and i ain’t gay. But for him, I don’t know how it’d work, IF it’d work, but one thing was for sure. JAX KNEW ME KNOWS ME STILL to this VERY day. Jaxson knows me better than anybody and everybody combined.

He keeps saying it’s in my head and that, yeah he had other friends. We were in high school, after all and our job was making and being friends. TRUE! He swears to this day, I was the real deal in his mind. THE BFF. “But Ryan,” Jax said, “You know you’re not gay. I know you’re not gay. So, understand I had to have other friends. I never wanted to say this, because: If I had said, “I L❤️ VE YOU” and your mind would be be in turmoil. I knew we made a good friendship match. Maybe at the beginning I might have thought it’d be cool to have one of the premier guys that i’ve ever known and had the distinct honor and pleasure to know and be friends with convert to the other team. Girls attempt to change guys like me to be straight. Would I actually be your friend if I attempted that with you? I KNOW I WOULDN’T HAVE BEEN HAPPY! Maybe for a the honeymoon period? That’s why it’s called the honeymoon period. It doesn’t last. If I had have said this earlier, Ryan, I’d never ever forgive myself. Ever! I really have always put your needs and wants ahead of mine. Always! I never wanted you to do anything just to please me and not please yourself. That’s what the people who get called that disgusting name. If loving me turned you into a fag, I’d sooner kill myself than permit that. I’m not that kind of guy who is selfish and wants to see if you’ll change teams to be with him.” “I get it, Jaxson. I really do. You are right. You never tried to convert me or suggest i experiment to be sure. But why didn’t you tell me that so i could shield myself from the eventual pain and suffering?”

“For the same reason you didn’t tell me you were certain you were straight, Ryan. I didn’t know for sure just like you didn’t know for sure.” Ryan nodded and agreed, allowing all the rage and anger to dissipate and desolve into the either. “ONE THING WE DID KNOW FOR SURE!” Jaxson said. “WE WERE THE PERFECT COMBINATION OF WHAT LIFETIME FRIENDSHIPS HAVE IN COMMON. OPPOSITES ATTRACT AND RESPECT. If I didn’t respect you Ryan, I’d try to have you in my bed every night with experimenting as the reason why. Thats why we go to college. To try new things. You admitted you had a crush on me.” “A HUGE CRUSH!” Ryan corrected. “You were infatuated with me. Is that a fair statement?” “Yes,” Ryan said. “Well, I too am a human being capable of having crushes and being infatuated with another.” Jaxson said. “I had a huger crush, so infatuated was I with you that i couldn’t eat for ten days, because my infatuation turned into love. You don’t try to change the one you love into something they are not! You are not gay! I know that because Ry, I wanted you so bad, but you never picked up a clue. Am i correct?” “One hundred percent!” Ryan answered. “So we’re just friends?”

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weathertheraine · 7 months

Text

Pirate AU!! Thank you @stringofturtles for watching OFMD S1 with me and re-igniting my Pirate Emotions so I had the motivation to finish this. The first sketches have been sitting in my files for months so please forgive the fact that they look different skdfjh.

More fleshed out AU details under the cut !! :D

- The kids are a little older than canon - the third years in their early 20s - but the story still starts with the second and third years as an established crew who then pick up the first years and the coaches.

- Daichi as a Captain is of course very much like he is in canon. He works very hard to take care of his crew and takes on a huge responsibility for providing for them (as well as making sure they don’t die in idiotic ways). Suga is First Mate so it’s his job to make sure DAICHI is okay and not worrying himself to death. He also has a good handle on morale/the emotional state of the crew.

- Asahi is the first line of offence when dealing with other ships. He doesn’t like actually hurting people, but he’s good at breaking ranks and barrelling through defences to get hold of whatever Karasuno needs. He was ‘off the team’ and out of commission for a little while after he lost his hand (not seeing combat while he was in recovery, and needing to build up his courage again). Noya played a huge part in helping him back onto his feet, and has been kind of protective ever since.

- Noya’s job is to make sure the ship isn’t boarded, so he very rarely leaves it.

- Ennoshita and Kiyoko work together as navigators and managing the little money the crew has. Ennoshita is the only crew member in the beginning who can kind-of read (Kiyoko can only read a little), and they work a lot with maps and planning out journeys.

- Tanaka is great at intimidating opponents. His eyepatch is totally for show - he thinks it makes him look cooler and scarier. His parrot doesn’t often co-operate with him.

- Narita and Kinoshita take care of maintenance and supplies and making sure there isn’t gunpowder anywhere there shouldn’t be, as well as things like fraying rigging and rotting boards/canons secure and the like. Of course, things like that are everyone’s responsibility, but these two consider is theirs particularly. It’s thankless work but the boat would definitely have burned down by now if not for them.

- Enter the first years!

- Kageyama is a prodigy swordsman with a huge reputation as a lethal pirate, although most people who spread those rumours don’t realise he’s as young as he is. He was marooned by his previous crew for being a controlling Captain (who should never have been captain in the first place, having only his fighting talent as the real reason).

- Hinata recently ran away from home to “become a pirate” without much of an idea what that actually entailed, and ran into Kageyama without knowing his reputation. All he knew was that this guy was incredible fighter, and he demanded that he teach him to fight! He now won’t leave him alone.

- Tsukishima ran away as a very young child in an attempt to find Akiteru, whose sailing ship was attacked and lost at sea. He fell in with pirates along with Yamaguchi (who was picked up after surviving a shipwreck), and the pair ended up sticking together as they bounced from ship to ship, ready to run whenever it seemed like tensions were getting high. They (read: tsukki) are going to need to break this habit, if they’re going to be a real part of this new crew.

- Tsukishima and Yamaguchi can’t sleep if they’re not in the same hammock. Embarrassing. The reason Yamaguchi was so tiny as a little kid is that he didn’t get enough food. Tsukishima still tries to sneak him extra (and gets in trouble with Daichi).

- Tadashi ends up as a sharpshooter, one of the few kids who’s confident using a pistol

- Hinata and Kageyama spar together all the time. It’s GOING to end in a make-out the first time Hinata successfully beats him.

- Neither of them have noticed that Tanaka’s eyepatch switches sides.

- Yachi is picked up when the crew stop in a bar in her town. She’s a better-off girl, about to be talked into an politically advantageous marriage, and desperately wants to get out of her situation. “Running away with pirates” was admittedly pretty drastic, but anything sounds like a good idea when Hinata suggests it so sincerely!!

- Ukai is a washed up older pirate, without a crew. Takeda is a very unlucky literature teacher who just happened to be on a sea voyage. They both ended up taken as hostages by the same (meaner) pirate crew, who were then stolen by the Karasuno kids. Although, it’s kind of unclear at this point whether they’re actually prisoners… They’re being treated very nicely (especially Sensei) and are in danger of getting attached…

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coconutcordiale · 2 years

Text

do not disturb

pairing- jake 'hangman' seresin x female!reader (no use of y/n)

synopsis-

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

warnings- 18+ only minors DNI, what's a plot never met her, explicit protected piv sex, lil corruption/innocence kink, choking (pls look up the correct way before doing it), hangman's dirty mouth, size kink (if jake doesn't have a big dick I'm staging a revolt), brat tamer hangman if you squint, inexperienced ish reader (tried but I'm a hoe so idk if I managed it), no kink negotiation here (talk to your partners first irl), safewords not explicitly stated but I promise this is consensual af, excessive pet names, exasperated sleepy friends to lovers

length- 4k this was supposed to be like 1k I don't know blame hangman

an- this is just smut w lil fluff sprinkles. i'm a hangman girl (read: I'm obsessed with glen powell) so I felt some type of way about being mean to him in tailspin & that's why this now exists. also idfk what this even is sorry! hope it's not terrible ok ily bye

Technically, it’s the middle of the night.

That’s why you’re burying homicidal urges when you hear knocking on your hotel room door.

Urges that increase tenfold when you open it to see Jake Seresin, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly in an old Navy shirt that looks way too soft for your sleep addled brain to deal with right now.

“Hangman,” you greet drily. “Why the fuck.”

Rubbing sleep from your eyes, you’re not unhappy to see him, per se, but it’s well past acceptable social hours. He’ll have to forgive your less than enthusiastic welcome. Part of you thinks you might still be sleeping.

He at least has the decency to look sheepish for waking you up. Well, about as sheepish as Hangman is capable of looking. “Coyote said he was bringing someone back to our room. Can I crash with you tonight? Everyone else is either hooking up or dead asleep.”

Fucking weddings.

You narrow your eyes. “What if I have someone here?”

He smirks and you kind of want to slap him.

A testament to your willpower, you sigh instead, briefly wondering if it’s really that bad to force him to sleep in the hallway, before opening the door and stepping to the side.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he drawls, letting you feel the heat of his body as he passes by you, just a touch too close for comfort.

“Cool pjs.” He smirks again, raking his eyes up and down your colorful matching shorts and shirt set.

“Bite me.”

Hangman smiles good-naturedly causing you to idly wonder if anything has ever bothered him in his entire life.

“You’re real cute when you’re tired,” he says instead of being offended and now you’re debating if you actually should slap him, or maybe yourself for the way his compliment brings heat to your cheeks.

“Where’s Phoenix? Thought you were sharing a room with her this weekend.”

Your stomach drops as you consider that Phoenix might be why he came to crash in your room, and you try not to make a face at its betrayal.

“She’s probably in your room with Coyote,” you deadpan to cover up your discomfort, and then relish in the way his mouth drops open in surprise. “Christ, aren’t you supposed to be smart, Hangman? I’m kidding, she met someone at the reception.”

You know you’re being a little more abrasive with him than normal, but you can’t quite help the jabs that come out when you’re feeling uneasy.

And Hangman does nothing, if not make you very, very uneasy. Especially like this, with his blonde hair soft and flopping all over his forehead, that old t-shirt clearly having been shrunk in the wash over the years straining across his chest, riding up a little high above his sweatpants.

The gears are clearly turning in his head, no doubt forming something witty to gain back the slight upper hand you’ve gained in this verbal sparring.

You should be preparing yourself for whatever he’s about to say that’s sure to make you lose your footing. But he looks like a goddamn sleepwear model like this, mellow and soft and cuddly, eyes drooping a little from tiredness and the whiskey he was sipping on all night, clothes begging to have someone’s hands fisted in them and…okay. Stopping that train of thought right the fuck now.

Nothing but danger lies down that road with a girl like you and a guy like Hangman.

You’re contemplating if you could get away with taking a cold shower when he finally looks around your room, its distinct lack of two beds apparently killing whatever comeback he had on the tip of his tongue.

“I can sleep on the floor.” He’s rubbing the back of his neck again and his uncharacteristic awkwardness is starting to make your skin itch.

Message received, Hangman. We both know I’m not your type.

You’ve seen the girls he usually goes home with. Even if every single one of them wasn’t annoyingly beautiful, you already know where you stand with him. For all intents and purposes, you’re just another one of the guys. Sure, you don’t take a different conquest home every other night like the rest of them, but you banter and compete with them like buddies.

And since you and Hangman are just buddies, you roll your eyes for appearances. “Just get in the bed, Seresin. It’s huge, I’m not going to make you sleep on the floor.”

He shrugs, like he’s giving himself credit for his half-assed offer and goes to pull his sweatpants off. You give him a withering look of disbelief, studiously avoiding looking at the way his boxers stretch over his muscular thighs.

“It’s one hundred degrees in this room,” Hangman defends himself. “I can’t sleep in pants, I’ll die.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose, considering just sleeping in the hallway yourself and ending this torture. “Is your penchant for drama genetic? Are your sisters like this too?”

He just gives you a dazzling smile in response, and you spin away from him before everything inside you melts.

Turning the thermostat down, you shoot an evident you’re welcome stare in his direction, but his sweatpants remain in their place on the floor. He’s laid out on the bed, all tanned skin and muscle, arms crossed behind his head in a way that’s surely meant to draw your attention straight to his biceps.

Deep breath, you tell yourself. You can do this, just lay down on the other side and don’t be weird.

You get in and pull the covers tight, hoping the shiver that runs through you as the air conditioning kicks on isn’t noticeable.

“And I’m dramatic,” Jake huffs, getting under the blanket and rolling closer to you. You tense, merely out of reflex and a frown creases his eyebrows almost imperceptibly before he gets comfortable on his side, pulls you into his arms. “Relax, sugar. Just trying to keep you warm, since you’re always so cold. Been told I’m like a furnace.”

By who? You want to snap at him, but instead you swallow the words and lean into his chest. He really is warm.

“Would never do anything you don’t want me to,” he mumbles, but there’s a trace of a chuckle in his voice that feels like he’s making fun of you.

Mocking aside, that's definitely true.

You'd never expect him to do any of the things you want him to, either. There's a reason your apprehension stems from you crossing some sort of invisible line with him in your bed and not vice versa.

"I know," you whisper, not trusting yourself to say much else without divulging all the thoughts about him you've buried deep under your comforter at home.

“How come you didn’t ask anyone else to come up and keep you warm?” Jake teases, after a few moments of silence where you were busy focusing on the whirr of the air conditioner and trying to ignore your pounding heart.

You squint, still kind of wondering if he can feel your pulse racing.

“The curly haired guy, from the wedding,” he supplies helpfully to answer your confused expression.

Oh. You’re surprised Jake noticed you talking to him at all. “It’s not like I wanted to sleep with him. We were just chatting.”

“Well, he definitely wanted to.” You’d love to imagine there’s a hint of bitterness in his tone, but you know that’s just wishful thinking.

“That’s not really my thing,” you say quietly, as if he doesn’t already know. He knew enough to know you wouldn’t have anyone up here with you, after all.

It’s so much easier, laying here in the dark, not having to meet his beautiful green eyes, to be honest. All your jabs having melted into smooth, silky edges at the warmth of his body.

There’s a playful lilt to Jake’s voice again. “Sex?”

You smack him lightly on the chest. “One-night stands. I can never get comfortable enough with a stranger to have a good time, things are just better for me when it’s more involved.”

When there’s feelings, you don’t say, because you’re pretty sure he can put two and two together without you having to spell it out.

You still kind of wish you hadn’t said anything, are kicking yourself for admitting that out loud when he cuts through the anxiety of your internal monologue.

“Nothing wrong with knowing what you want, darlin’.”

“It sucks sometimes,” you admit. “It can be a little lonely.”

“Better than being with the wrong person if it’s just going to make you feel bad.”

Part of you wants to roll your eyes and scoff at him, as if Casanova Jake Seresin has any idea what that feels like, but he’s rubbing small, comforting circles in between your shoulder blades and it’s short-circuiting your brain. You find yourself running your fingers up his spine instead, playing with the soft threads of his t-shirt like you’ve wanted to since the moment you saw him at your door tonight.

“Feels nice,” he comments, pulling you in closer.

Spurred on by his praise you keep going, wandering down his back to where his shirt rides up. You look down and see that little strip of blonde hair that disappears into the waistband of his boxers, slung low enough that you can see that stupid Adonis belt on his abs. Your hand moves to the front of him of its own accord, tracing the ridges there, brushing dangerously close to the strip of elastic at the top.

Jake’s arm pops up so he can support his head with his hand, looking down at you imploringly. “What’re you playing at, sugar?”

You take your hand back like it’s been burned, cheeks suddenly hot as you realize you’d gotten carried away. “I’m sorry, I just—I didn’t think about what I was doing. Got distracted.”

He’s definitely smirking, you can practically feel it in the air above you, but you’re sure as hell not going to look up and see that self-important grin for yourself.

He pulls your fingers back to his stomach, and you can’t help but immediately brush them over his happy trail. The dusting of blonde hair surprises you a little, having expected Hangman to be too vain to leave any hair around that might distract from his physique.

You’re silently wondering if he has any hair on his chest when he catches a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. You see his green eyes darkened, studying your face for something. You’re not entirely sure what.

Apparently finding what they’re looking for his expression softens, the hand supporting his head going to brush hair away from your face and you break eye contact, feeling small under his undivided attention. His fingers hover for a second, like he wants to do something more, but go to rest on your pillow instead.

“Thought that I had you pegged wrong all along for a second there, using lines to get in my pants. That’s not really my thing,” he mimics, smile twitching at the edges of his lips.

“Oh, I’m—Jake, I’m not—” you stutter, certain you must be bright red now. Your fingers are playing with the hem of his t-shirt, nervous and fidgety energy working to get released.

I’m not like this, you want to say. I’m not like you.

He exhales audibly, looking down at you, at the cherry blooming on your cheeks, at where your dainty fingers pluck at his shirt. His hand clenches once in the pillow above your head, knuckles practically white, before releasing.

“I know, sweets, was only joking. Fuck, I get that you’re a good girl,” he breathes, strained like he’s barely holding it together. “S’why I always want to ruin you.”

What.

Everything inside your mind shuts off.

All you can hear is the humming of the air conditioner, the slow intake of air into his lungs. Something inside you clenches.

You’re fairly certain a sound that closely resembles a whimper breaks from your throat, but you can’t know for sure, since all thoughts have been erased from your brain.

You hear him suck in a sharp breath, breathing in and out evenly for a couple seconds, regaining control, before he speaks again. “Sorry, sweetheart. Shouldn’t have said that. I won’t, told you I’d never do anything you don’t want.”

You already know that. That’s not the problem. The problem is how many nights you’ve already spent wishing his fingers were on you instead of your own. How many nights you've spent biting back his name, too embarrassed to let your lips form the syllables of someone who you were certain didn’t want you.

Now, though, those walls of certainty seem to be crumbling at every edge.

“What if I want you to?” You ask quietly, barely above a whisper. It almost gets stuck in your throat, but you force your lips to form those words and let them leave your lungs.

Jake’s entire body goes tense.

But then he rolls over, putting you on your back and caging you in with his arms.

“You mean that?” He’s looking at you intensely, so intensely you might be frightened if you weren’t distracted by the weight of him on top of you, by every single scorching point of contact between you.

All you can manage is a nod, eyes starting to glaze over as he fills every inch of your vision.

He chuckles. “Guess that’s a yes.”

Jake ducks his head to kiss you, it’s sweet, sweeter than you ever would’ve expected from him. Sweeter than you thought it would be when you were hiding beneath the sheets in your bed, with your fingers on your clit, choking back his name.

But then he slides his tongue past your lips, deepening the kiss as he tangles a hand in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you moan straight into his mouth. His lips move down to ghost over your neck, across your jaw.

And suddenly his words are hot in your ear. “What do you want, sweetheart? Want me to ruin you? Tell you about all the times I’ve thought about taking you apart?”

Your thighs clench together, heat blooming in your stomach and you notice, all at once, how wet you really are, slick pooling between your thighs under the wispy material of your sleep shorts.

You open your mouth to say yes, desperately trying to find your voice, to find your familiar jabs so you can go toe to toe with him like normal, but all that comes out is a squeak.

His hand stops at your neck, just briefly, thumb rubbing on your pulse point. And it turns every last bit of you in you to sweet, sticky, melting caramel. Your breath hitches, you suck your bottom lip between your teeth, holding back a whimper.

He’s not even doing anything, not really, but your mind immediately latches onto what he could be.

Jake’s eyes go wide for just a second before something wicked glints in the thin ring of green left.

“Thought you were so fucking innocent,” he grunts, running his thumb from your pulse point to your jaw and back again. You bring your hands to his, pulling him closer, silently asking him to press down.

You open your mouth to respond, but you don’t know how to explain. You may not do this kind of thing a lot, but you know what you like. Your imagination has certainly run wild enough times.

But any words that might’ve been readying themselves to leave your lips wither into nothing the moment he squeezes your neck.

“Jake,” you gasp, words breathy underneath the fingers around your throat. “Jake, I…”

“Hmm, what’s that, sweetheart?” His hand relents a little so you can answer, but you immediately wish he’d tighten his hold again.

“Yes, Jake,” you whine. “I want you to ruin me.”

And you don’t know what’s come over you, if you were even an ounce more present in your own body you’d probably be embarrassed.

But Jake’s head drops next to his hand at the crook of your neck, and he makes a strangled noise, the moan reverberating through your skin.

“Jesus,” he mutters against you. “Trying to kill me, sugar?”

You don’t have an answer for that because you’re not trying to do anything, you just want more.

Your fingers are still grasping his hand, the one still around your neck, tightly, like you’re scared he’ll pull it away, leave you to drift without his grip to ground you, to remind you this moment is real. It’s actually happening.

He lifts his head up to latch his mouth onto yours again and it’s heavier, so much more desperate than before. You whine into him as he slides his hands down your body, pushing up your shirt and you want to laugh at the absurdity of it, that you’re more turned on than you’ve ever been in your entire life and you’re both still fully clothed.

He peels your shirt up and over your head, letting out another obscene groan at the sight of your bare chest.

“Fucking perfect,” he murmurs.

You fist your hands in his shirt in answer, tugging upwards, figuring fair is fair. You’re trying hard not to blush, not to show how his approval makes you light and fuzzy. He grins and sits back on his knees, pulling his shirt up and over his head, ruffling his floppy hair in the process.

Lips parting unconsciously, your tongue flicks out to wet them. You knew he was built, but it’s overwhelming, really, to have all that tan skin on display just inches from your face. You get to run your hands up the length of his entire chest now though, leaning up so your fingers can dance through the tuft of blonde hair near the top.

Jake pushes you down on your back, firm, into the pillows. Smiling deviously when you pout and immediately clench your fingers in the sheets beside you, when your thighs press together, seeking some sort of relief to the ache between them. The seam of your shorts presses just right against your center, and you let your head fall back with a soft moan.

Something akin to dangerous flashes in Jake’s eyes, as he hooks his fingers in your shorts, pulling down in one swift motion and tossing them off the bed before you can gain any more pleasure from the thin material. He pushes your legs apart and groans at the sight of you, glistening wet for him. “God, sweetheart, look at you.”

Just when you think you might die if he doesn’t put his hands on you, if he doesn’t touch you, if he just keeps looking at you like that, like he wants to devour you; he swipes a finger up your slit, tip pressing lightly, teasingly against your bundle of nerves. It’s too much, but not enough all at the same time. He slides a finger in, curling it exactly right on the first try and you can’t help but keen, throwing your head back into the pillows.

He sucks in a sharp breath at your reaction, eyelids going heavy as he presses rough figure eights on your clit. “Want to get my mouth on you, get my tongue inside that gorgeous pussy, but I can’t wait, darlin’, been thinking about this for too long.”

Warmth blooms in your chest at the realization he might’ve imagined this even half as much as you have. You’re sure you’re smiling like an idiot.

Reaching down to the pocket of his sweatpants, he pulls a condom out of his wallet, and you want to tease him, presumptuous much? But any semblance of thought goes out the window when he pulls his boxers down, hard cock slapping against his stomach. Your mouth is suddenly, immediately sandpaper dry.

Fuck.

Of course he’s huge. No one with an ego as colossal as his doesn’t have a reason, or several to back it up.

You don’t even hear yourself saying it out loud, don’t even realize the curses forming on your tongue, until he grins, eyebrow raised, chest puffed out in pride. “Think you can handle me, sweetheart?”

It takes you a few moments to answer, to figure out that you should answer, since you’re transfixed on him, on the strong fingers rolling the condom onto his length. If you had any sense of self-preservation at all you might be genuinely worried about his question, about not being able to walk tomorrow.

Hopefully you don’t sound as winded as you feel when you tell him to shut the fuck up.

Before you can bother with any stupid survival instincts, you’re pulling him down on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist, savoring the grunt it draws from him as his tip reaches your folds.

“Love it when you’re mouthy, darlin’, nice little challenge for me,” he promises, before pushing himself inside of you.

He goes slow, tortuously slow, and you screw your eyes shut tight as your walls flutter trying to adjust to him. You don’t notice you’re on the verge of a sob until he brushes your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “Just a little more, sweetheart, you can take it.”

The stretch of him seems to go on forever, just on this side of agonizing, but way too good for you to care about the pain, too good to be real and you can barely focus on anything else. Can barely hear Jake’s molten honey voice repeating a slew of continuous praises in your ear, can barely register the weight of his body covering every inch of you.

Any moment now you’ll wake up in your bed at home, covered in sweat, grinding into your bed, achingly alone. You’re almost certain of it.

But then you feel his lips on yours again, hand holding your cheek, gentle, affectionate as he bottoms out. When he finally moves, the heavy, slick pull of him in and out of you reminds you that you’re here.

You don’t even recognize yourself, mewling, long string of unintelligible noises tumbling from your lips.

Jake practically preens. “Where’d my feisty little brat go? That all it takes to shut you up, sugar?”

You can only hope those were rhetorical questions because he’s hiking your legs over his shoulders, picking up the pace, new angle hitting that spot deep inside you again and again, and you can’t form a single thought, let alone words.

Jake’s fingers find your center again and press against your clit in heavy, decisive circles, winding that coil in you tighter and tighter.

“So close,” you whimper, fingers tearing at the bedsheets.

He smirks.

“Did I say you could come, sweetheart?”

Your jaw drops in surprise, eyes rolling back and ears ringing, mind engulfed in the heat burning in your belly.

He’s still grinning smugly as one of those large hands comes back to your neck.

You whine, high-pitched and breathless, eyes fluttering closed, gripping the hand around your neck as he applies pressure, desperate for something to hold onto, and you think you’re trying to form words, some of them may even be making it out of your mouth, something along the lines of please please please, let me come, Jake, I can’t, JakeJakeJakeJake…

“So pretty all fucked out like this, stretched around my cock.” His gaze is fixed on where he’s plunging in and out of you, tone almost reverent. “It’s okay, sweetheart, come for me, wanna feel you, want…”

You don’t hear the rest because you’re focused on where his fingers dig into the sides of your neck, tipping over the edge, string of lights inside of you tangled and blowing a fuse. Everything bursts all at once and you’re clutching Jake’s arms so hard you’re positive you’re leaving marks, but it doesn’t matter, you don’t care because you’re in a free fall, toes curling in bliss.

When you come to, you’re just barely aware of his pace growing erratic, hand on your throat loosening as it goes to brush your sweaty hair back from your forehead. His thrusts are getting shallower, mouth spewing a litany of jumbled praises so tight, so wet, so perfect baby, when suddenly he’s arching over you, hands tight on your hips as he empties into the condom.

You’re not sure you’re still functioning. You’re not sure you’ll ever move again. You’re pretty sure you’ll ever have a coherent thought again.

Distantly you can hear his heavy breathing, feel his weight on top of you but you don’t fully register it.

“Sweetheart?” He asks when you’ve been silent for minutes, or maybe hours, who knows.

You look up at him, blinking slowly, eyelids made of lead, vision unfocused.

Jake grins, and it's almost boyish. It's annoyingly cute. “That good?”

That cuts through the haze enough that you kind of want to slap him, for the arrogance littering those three little words. Or yourself, for helping his ego grow any bigger.

As it stands, you’re too dazed to actually do either. You nod, silently burrowing your face into his neck. He chuckles again, and you decide maybe you don’t hate that teasing sound that much, maybe you’ll spend your days trying to elicit it from him as often as possible. You’re still thinking about it when he peels himself off you to clean you both up.

When he settles back down, he pulls you in tight, curls around you in a way that should be uncomfortable, like he’d crawl inside your skin if he could.

Jake is still glued to you when you wake up in the morning, and your heart clenches too affectionately to be irritated by the fact that you can’t really move. Or breathe.

But you take one look at the smirk on his face, the mischievous glimmer that seems to linger even in his sleep and the butterflies in your stomach turn to stone.

You don’t think he’s that much of an asshole, you’re pretty sure the bravado is all a front. That he wouldn’t do something like this, knowing how you operate, without any intention of moving forward, but the anxiety still thrums incessantly beneath your ribcage.

You’re lost inside your own head, fighting the panic rising in your chest when he yawns, rubbing his eyes before tucking himself back into your side, impossibly closer.

“Guess that fifty bucks I gave Phoenix to find somewhere else to stay was a steal,” he mumbles, fingers dancing across your bare skin.

It’s his turn to pat himself on the back as your mouth drops open in shock.

Jake grins, eyes sparkling as he presses a kiss into your hair. “Good luck getting rid of me now.”

#jake hangman seresin #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #hangman smut #hangman top gun #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfic

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luveline · 9 months

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Hi Jade! Had an idea for a Sirius fic (or poly if that’s something you feel like writing for!) where r loves dogs and animals but gets kinda scared when meeting them (especially large ones) in real life. So Sirius is all sweet with her as padfoot as a way to help her get over her fear. Love you!!! You’re truly such an amazing writer ❤️❤️

thank you, I love you ♡ and thank u for ur request!! —a stray dog befriends you on the way to sirius' flat. fem!reader, 1.3k

You're walking from the costcutters to Sirius' block of flats when you feel as though you're being followed. You look around in a sweep, but can't spot anybody besides a handful of children in the park across the street.

Feeling weary, you pick up your pace and slide your phone from your pocket. I'm five mins from ur flat, you text. If anything happens, he'll know you were here.

Childish giggles ride the breeze. You look back over your shoulders to see why, not for any particular reason beyond curiosity, only to see their short fingers pointing and waving at a scruffy black dog trotting behind you.

You flinch on impulse. He's not an especially scary dog, but his appearance is a surprise. He has no collar, no leash.

You stop walking, worried he might come closer. You love animals in theory, but you're anxiously disposed. Things that move quickly make you flighty.

The dog stops a couple of feet from you. His head tilts left, tongue darting out of his mouth.

"Hi, puppy," you say nervously.

Like he can understand the irony, he sits down on his back legs and shakes his head, ears flopping from one side to the other. He's a very big dog.

You frown. He's not cute enough to make you feel confident in approaching him —you've seen how bad some injuries can be from animal attacks. Sirius always tells you to chill out, The chances of that happening to you are so low, doll. You don't have to worry about it every time you see a dog. I'll get you a taser.

I don't wanna tase a dog, even if it is trying to eat me, you'd said, flabbergasted.

Sirius laughed at you. I don't know what to tell you, then. I'll just have to go with you everywhere.

"Bye, puppy," you say, spinning on your heel.

You walk briskly. The dog follows. You're afraid to turn to check on him, listening to his footsteps on the pavement, the scratch of his nails. He'd chase you if he were going to hurt you, right?

You turn back around slowly, wondering if he can smell the packet of bacon you'd bought for Sirius' roommate and best friend, James. If you feed it to the dog, James won't want to forgive you (he needs mucho protein, apparently), but he probably will if it's to save yourself from harm.

You look up from the corner store bag. The dog has laid down and bared his stomach to you, tongue lolled out the side of his mouth and panting. You swear he wiggles his legs to entice you in.

"Oh, um." You put the bacon back in the bag. "You want a stroke?" you ask gently.

His tail wags across the pavement.

The walk to meet him is nerve-wracking. You extend your hand first to let him sniff you, flinching as his head comes up and he investigates your scent. He gives your index finger a quick lick.

"Are you friendly?" you ask in the same gentle tone as before. "Please don't bite me, okay? My boyfriend, he acts like he's tough," —you extend your hand to the dogs face and stroke his jaw— "and he kind of is, but when I get hurt he goes crazy." You pop your bag down and use your newly freed hand to scratch his tummy tentatively. When he doesn't growl, you give it a good go. "Aw, you're gorgeous. You're not gonna bite, I can see that. Siri was right. He's right about nearly everything."

The dog curls in toward your hand and starts licking you appreciatively.

"You're lovely," you praise. "Where's your home? Do you have someone to look after you?"

He licks you again. It's kind of gross in a cute way, or cute in a gross way. Sometimes when Sirius is feeling disgusting he'll lick a big playful stripe up your neck between kisses, though you have less fear of rabies when that happens.

"I don't want to make any promises, but I can make you some dinner. Siri's a devoted vegetarian, but his friend treats me like his little meat delivery girl, so he owes me a couple of rashers if you want them." The dog snorts. You giggle happily. "Ew! Don't sneeze on me, handsome, I need to look presentable!"

The dog tilts his head. You pretend it's quizzical, rubbing his belly enthusiastically. "I want to look pretty for my boy. Might be difficult if I'm covered in mucus, and I need all the help I can get– woah! Holy fu–"

You fall back on the heels of your hands as the dog jumps into your lap. You push your face into your shoulder in fear, but the dog doesn't hurt you. He snuggles up to your chest and licks at your chin.

"You're a good boy. Maybe I shouldn't be so scared of doggies after all," you say, sighing with relief. "Good boy. If you come home with me I'll make you some dinner, okay?"

The dog is remarkably smart. He follows you home and waits at the door, sitting smartly by a potted plant. You race up stairs to Sirius and James' flat and knock on the door.

"Hi," James says, giving you a genial smile as he lets you in. "Sirius isn't home from work yet."

"Sorry for bursting in on you," you say sheepishly. "I brought your bacon! And I was wondering if I could ask you for a favour."

James is happy enough to give you some diced chicken he'd been keeping for his meal prep. Which is to say, he'll have to cook more, but he's a nice guy, and thankful that you always ask him if he needs anything before you come over. You rush downstairs again, breathless as you push open the door of the building.

"Puppy?" you ask.

"Not my favourite pet name, but I'll take it."

Sirius stands where you'd left the dog, tucking hair behind his ears. It's standing up every which way.

"Did you see the dog?" you ask urgently.

"Nope, just me out here."

You tip your head back in defeat. "I promised a stray I'd give him something to eat."

"A stray?" he asks, pulling a bobble from his wrist. He begins scraping bedraggled curls from his face, disarming you with the sight of his tense biceps and his hiked shirt.

"I'm not sure what kind of dog it was, but it was– it was big."

"Yeah? Didn't scare you, did it?" he asks in concern.

You hug James' tupperware to your chest, trying to seem less proud of yourself than you are. Sirius has this way of making you feel like you're a wonder with his eyes alone, dark gaze roaming your face like he knows something you don't.

He drops his arms to his sides. "I knew you'd be okay. They're not so different from puppies, big dogs. Was he excited?"

"He let me scratch his tummy."

"That means he really likes you," Sirius says, holding his hand out for you. You place your hand in his. "We'll keep an eye out for him, alright? You know, I heard dogs like fruit, like, apples and bananas. Maybe you can feed him fruit salad?"

You preen as he rubs your upper arms together, leading you back to the door, though his comment is puzzling. "You don't think he'd like the chicken?"

"Nah."

"How do you know?" you ask, bemused.

Sirius looks very sure, bringing your joined hands up to his lips to kiss your ring finger. "Funny feeling."

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius x reader fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #marauders era #marauders #sirius black drabble #sirius black scenario #sirius black oneshot #the marauders #sirius orion black

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alicerosejensen · 2 months

Text

Something about sin. Pt.3

Warning: Age difference, Older!Leon, Reader daughter of another DSO agent, fem.reader, mention of sex, guilt.

A/N: The penultimate part. The second part was chaotic and probably the weakest, but it is what it is. I’m still trying to overcome my chronic fatigue and constant apathy, so if it’s not difficult for you, please write a few kind words if you liked this text.

I still decided that there would be four parts instead of three. The final chapter will probably be smaller in volume, but it will have a lot of dialogues and the resolution of the conflict itself, so I decided that it would be better to write it separately and not in one large text.

Once again, I apologize for the delay in publication, but sometimes our health fails us all.

Part 1

Part 2

And he would burn in hell for all the lust he feels for this lost innocent soul.

Your father would never forgive him for this, just as Leon will not forgive himself for having you in his arms. Albeit of his own free will, but getting out of bed, going to the bath and rinsing his face with cold water, Leon prefers to take all the blame on himself. You are innocent... you were innocent and he stretched out his dirty hands to you, put you into his bed three months after that kiss in the barn and, no matter how disgusting it may sound, slept with you.

The most tender, most precious girl he's ever had of all, he knows that he would have made the same decision every time if God had brought him back to the day he kissed you, allowing himself to desire you. That's why it's nice to come back to bed with you, even if it's soul-destroying from himself.

You destroyed him thoroughly.

You are his sin, a sweet obsession and a mad desire designed to crush all the little that he has managed to build in his hectic life. You mock him, tear him apart so that he pursues you and falls into this sinful ocean of passion without regrets. And Leon can't do anything to himself. He was older than you, almost twice as old, well, that was fine with you. The feeling of comfort and security never left while Leon was around, as if it was something you needed all your life. As he lay back in bed, he replayed your dialogue in his head. It's one thing to kiss while muffling the egregious voice in his own head that it's not worth it, and it's completely another to insert dick into his friend's daughter.

Leon was the first in every way for you and he understood it perfectly without words. It's not that your dad forbade you to date boys, but maybe your father's attention really wasn't enough if you reciprocated his feelings?

"I could be your father… Your father and I are the same age…"

"But still, you're not my father," you smiled then, begging him with puppy eyes to teach you love and move on to something more than ordinary kisses, which of course you were crazy about, but you want to understand what it's like to be with someone you love, even if he's much older than you.

You promised him that you were ready for more, for a new stage, and Leon continued to feel as if he was seducing a young girl, doing something dirty and vicious with you, something against your will. This, of course, was not the case, but the anxiety did not go away. Asking to think about this decision, to weigh everything, led nowhere, and in the end everything happened.

"Are you sure you want this?; Are you sure?; we can stop, sweetie, at any time you want"

His voice, saturated with anxiety, accompanied you throughout your first sex with him, and it was never as described in the books... however, this was not surprising and you knew very well that what is on the pages and in films differs greatly in real life. And yet, it's good that you got Leon and not someone else, because he took care of your feelings, trying to prepare you in such a way as to reduce all discomfort to a minimum: gentle kisses, a prepared bottle of lubricant, long intimacy , careful touches. All his movements were careful and together with you, he essentially got to know your body, trying to help you and himself understand what you would like in sex. he allowed you to touch him, showed how he liked it, smiling, kissing you on the corner of your lips, seeing the embarrassment on your beautiful face.

"My dear, do you remember?" his reminders constantly sounded while his thumb caressed your swollen clit with round movements, "I will stop as soon as you say"

How could you forget? Leon was catching every emotion on your face, afraid to catch the pain, but it was good for you. It's better than if it was a guy your age who didn't give a damn about you. Leon was doing everything right, but he was still a monster in his head. You liked it. There was no blood, none of the things your friends used to scare you with, but you didn't see the stars in the sky either, no matter how funny it sounded. Just because it was the first time and yet Leon left almost a thousand kisses on your face before and after sex. He took you to the shower, gently ran a sponge over your body, washing away all traces of intimacy, wrapped you in a towel and put you back to bed, not forgetting to bring a glass of water. You were sitting on his bed and the man's hands were firmly holding you by the waist while he weightlessly touched the bridge of your nose with his lips asking about your well-being. You could joke that you really feel a little unwell after sex, but seeing your lover's panic, it would be wise not to play him like that, otherwise this could be your first and last sex with him.

"I don't regret it," you said, hoping that it would take some weight off his shoulders.

Leon reassured himself that even if nothing came of this relationship, at least your first man was the one who took care of you and did not run away the next morning, managing to tell his friends about the new notch on bedpost.

.. But yes, now if your father finds out that you've been fucked, then a fist in the nose will be the most merciful thing Leon can ever get. Most likely, it will be an explosion of epic proportions and a shootout worse than Hollywood action movies. What should it tell him? "Buddy, but we can still drink beer and watch football, it's just that now I'm still sleeping with your daughter, whom you've been caring for and cherishing all his life?" This is shit, not an explanation. If his friend had once confessed to him that he was sleeping with HIS daughter, Leon would have killed the bastard and disposed of the corpse so that no evidence would be found. That's just that he is now the main culprit, and he does not want to leave your life when such a charming angel sleeps next to him in bed.

Leon doesn’t want to leave you, but he himself has no idea what outcome his actions will lead to. Hugging and pulling your body while you sleep, he kisses the back of your head, sincerely hoping that you won’t regret what happened between you, that you won’t cry in the morning, calling everything a mistake, but the devil is not as terrible as he is imagined...

A sound sleep was interrupted by caring strokes and soft kisses, although he is not a handsome prince, but he still got a sleeping beauty and it seems that the only thing you were unhappy with sitting with him at the kitchen table was that Leon woke you up too early. Like a gloomy owl with disheveled hair, you try to focus your gaze on coffee and not fall asleep while he says something and you ignore all his speeches until your name is called.

"Did you heard what I said?" and you honestly nod your head negatively to a heavy male sigh.

Trouble obviously doesn't come alone, fortunately you don't cry or curse him, instead you just snuggle up to his back and pull him back into the bedroom to sleep an extra couple of hours with him in your arms like the whole last night.

He was a good man. Not ideal, with his own problems, fears, experiences, but still he continued to care about you more than about himself, so he carefully turned to face you, hugging you, starting to gently rock you to the sides, burying his nose in the top of your head.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asked still anxiously.

"All was good"

With Leon you could relax and trust him, last night he was perfectly prepared and constantly asked if you could continue or if he should stop, and you know that if you said yes, he would immediately end everything without caring about his feelings. The main thing is you! As a result, he treats you like a princess all day long, taking care of you. He even volunteered to comb your hair, which now smelled like his shampoo, and while Leon was fiddling with the comb, at the same time remembering the jokes that your father loves so much, you just laughed and enjoyed the complete adoration of his person.

“I’ll order food for us, and you relax on the couch. Choose the movie you want.”

Not surprisingly, Leon doesn’t know how to cook, he doesn’t have much time to improve this skill, but you don’t expect him to pick you up in his arms and put you on this very sofa, covering your legs with a blanket and handing you the TV remote control. Another girl obviously wouldn’t like it, but not you, although you didn’t feel helpless. There was some discomfort, but nothing scary or that would require consulting a doctor. As a result, the two of you spent another day lying cuddled on the couch, eating pizza, watching, flipping through channels and discussing various things. Despite the age difference, there was no feeling that Leon was some kind of ancient old man walking around with an ancient push-button telephone (although you assured him that there was nothing wrong with that). He smiled, playfully flicking you on the nose and it seems he even exhaled and came to reconciliation with his inner voice, but exactly until the moment when your father called.

And conscience woke up again.

He protected you, he didn't hurt you and took good care of you, Leon is ready as a faithful doggie to accept any thing you ask him, because he is...

It's worth admitting to yourself that this is not an affair because if Leon just wanted to sleep with someone, he went to a bar and found someone who wouldn't mind spending the night with him, and you are something more. He wants to cherish you and shower kisses on your face while you're lying serenely on his couch watching the show. A good excuse for the conscience that was gnawing into his brain and telling him that he was an ordinary son of a bitch, screaming: "Look, you took advantage of the poor girl's naivety. The daughter of your friend who supported you after China! How well did you repay his kindness by dragging his favorite daughter into bed!"

The phone rang but couldn't find the strength to answer.

You asked if everything was okay, to which Leon sighs and answers yes, asking not to worry. And then he gave you his sweater and you curled up next to him and fell asleep without caring about anything, because the thunderstorm with lightning no longer scared you both. And Leon really slept well for the first time in a long time, hugging you to his chest, knowing that when he wakes up he will find you where you fell asleep - with him.

No more notes with lipstick marks or paper airplanes on the nearby pillow. Besides, it’s so nice when you snuggle up to him at night, trying to hug him. Leon allows it. Your hands are much warmer. this makes him fall out of reality when he turns to you, wrapping a blanket around your body and pressing you to him so that you don’t freeze. It can rain outside as long as you like, his phone can ring off the hook with calls all night long, but his lips will still find yours and kiss you tenderly.

The forbidden fruit is very sweet.

For the first time in years, the government agent felt like he had something to treasure. Sometimes he envied your father for the fact that he could return to a cozy home where his beloved wife and daughter were always waiting for him, eat delicious home-cooked food and sleep in bed with his loved one. Not much is needed for happiness, according to Leon, and he would also like to receive this gift. But probably for you it's all just an affair. For children, you are young and he himself is not trying to knock you up. Besides, marriage is a matter that should be approached wisely, and neither you nor Leon are fools, so he doesn’t even console himself with the hope of a future together.

As a matter of fact, the matter is rubbish and Kennedy should not have put you to bed at all. How can he look your father in the eyes after what happened? And you? so Leon again does an even more disgusting thing - he ignores you.

You wrote him several messages, called him a couple of times, but the calls went unanswered, he didn’t even send a tiny message like “Sorry, work. I’ll call you later” or “I’ll call you when I’m free.” Yes, he could at least write something and not remain silent like a fuckboy who fucked half of the college! But you are not intruding, no, but this does not mean that you are not offended and you do not feel that you were simply used. For many months you felt this beautiful love for him, afraid to show it, but when the miracle happened, it turned out that the gingerbread house was not so sweet.

It was a complete failure, which brought you to tears, although you didn’t pester him with calls and messages because you didn’t want to look stupid, like the girls from high school who were chasing guys around. There should still be pride, but do you really have to pretend now that nothing happened between you? Actually, it wasn’t even that bad, right? he looked after you and didn’t throw you out of his apartment after sex; he was sweet and gentle, but no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself of this, the resentment still stuck like a bone in your throat.

Therefore, you locked yourself in a room and did not leave it for hours, and to all the requests of your parents you answered one thing "I feel not well", of course you managed to slip unnoticed into the toilet, but if your father saw this terribly swollen face from tears, then his weapon, which was always hidden from you when you were still a child, risked shooting someone- something in the balls, if your dad found out that the reason was a guy.

Although it would be more correct to say an adult man.

But your nightly sobs did not go unnoticed, and in the end, your dad really wanted to kick someone's ass because his babygirl was constantly crying due to a broken heart.

“If he somehow offended you, just tell me,” he asks, stroking your back soothingly, and you can’t even squeeze out a word, just cry. "And this little piece of shit will remember that he can’t offend my girl."

Your father’s words made you laugh through your tears and calm down a little. Although you were still terribly swollen with a huge nose from which snot flowed every now and then, thanks to the support of your close person, life no longer seems so spoiled. However, no matter how your dad tried to find out the name, you didn’t tell him anything about Leon.

After a couple of weeks, you were even able to calm down and have fun with friends, but still the image of Kennedy kept popping up in your head, haunting you both in your dreams and in reality, despite all your attempts to distract yourself. He never left you a single message, thereby forcing you to draw conclusions.

Your college classes will begin in the fall, so there is not much time left to rest, so you decided to make the most of the rest of the summer, but returning home you clearly hear the sound of cleaning weapons and a painfully familiar voice that raises a wave of anxiety in chest.

"...I swear to God I'll find out who this asshole, Leon." Your heart tries to jump out of your chest when you press your ear to the door of your father’s room where he keeps a gun and other things that are not for your eyes. Leon himself almost doesn’t answer and you honestly don’t even want to face him anymore because the resentment still bites painfully into your throat making your eyes water.

It's not good to eavesdrop, but what could you do with yourself? Part of you hoped that he felt at least some guilt for treating you so badly.

“He’s such an asshole...” Leon says quietly in an unnatural voice. "Definitely deserved the bullet"

Maybe he didn't deserve a bullet after all, your heart is not so cruel as to wish him dead, but you could slap him in the face, although you don't want to see him at all, so carefully moving away from the door, go upstairs to your room and lock yourself in it again hoping that Leon will leave before you get hungry. It took about two hours before stomach growled for food. A bar of chocolate in purse briefly saved the situation, which caused an almost opera orchestra of an empty stomach to resound throughout the room. As luck would have it, a delicious aroma came from the kitchen from below, from which wings almost literally grew behind your back and you flew down to try this freshly baked pasta. Your mom called you to the table a couple of times, but it looks like Leon didn't go anywhere, once again staying at dinner with your family, and how the hell did he end up in the same room with him?!

But you can't tell them that Leon is the guy who dumped you after the first sex.

Therefore, it went downstairs and met his guilty gaze. You didn't say a word to each other at dinner, although Leon asked neutral questions like are you okay? It's a shitty question, actually, and your want to throw this plate at his head so Leon's answer is a simple nod.

Your parents are sure it's about the boy who broke their daughter's heart, but they don't know that this "boy" is right in front of them. That makes Leon even more sick of himself, but what happened was clearly a mistake.

He had no right to drag a young girl into his bed, he had no right to touch you at all, and yet the vicious feeling turned out to be stronger than the mind. And yet Leon thinks you can easily overcome your first crush, because no matter how you look at it, this relationship is hopeless. He will not be able to marry you, will not create a family and the people around him will always condemn and most of their sidelong glances will be directed at you. Damn, your dad took out a loan so you could go to the college of your dreams and fall in love with someone like him, the worst possible idea.

"She'll find a better boyfriend in college," Leon said to your father that afternoon. Although he wanted to bite his tongue, because he didn't want to give you to some brat at all, but his mind kept saying that it would be the right thing to do. You deserve a quiet life, and everyone Leon gets attached to sooner or later leaves. Therefore, this time he decided to leave first. And yet he really acted no better than any jerk when he ignored you and your messages.

Dinner passed in tense silence. Your appetite disappeared and a piece wouldn’t go down your throat, which is why you offered to help your mom put the leftover food into the refrigerator, at the same time running away from Leon because tears were running down your cheeks by themselves. Standing in the kitchen, washing the dirty dishes, you were drowned in your thoughts, realizing that you were again sliding into the deep bottom of self-torture, because of this you did not hear the steps behind you, shuddering in surprise when Leon’s hands carefully placed them on your waist.

"Forgive me" It seems that he himself does not know how to choose the right words, but takes his hands away from you, looking around so that your parents do not hear this conversation "I know I acted like an asshole, but it's not going to work. It's wrong, God, you're old enough to be my daughter, and I don't know what I was thinking when I was doing this with you.

You're silent, turning away from him, continuing to wash the poor plate, and Leon is ready to swear that your silence is a hundred times worse than if you were yelling at him.

"You're so young, good, please... Sweetie, I didn't mean to offend you. Trust me, this was never part of my plans, and when your father told me how you cried all night long... It will pass. You'll find yourself a good guy of the same age, well, maybe he'll be a little older than you by two years or maybe three, well, certainly not more than fifteen years."

You are silent again, putting down a clean plate and starting on another one, standing with your back to him.

"This is the first love... And I gave up on myself. You're a wonderful girl..."

"Is it my age?" You rudely interrupt him: "Am I not experienced enough or am I just disgusting to you?"

Finally you turn around turning off the water with your arms crossed over your chest. But God no, that's not what he meant! If he had his way... if it's not the damn framework that Leon mostly pushes himself into, then he won't admit to himself, but he wants there to be no more men in your life besides him. In an intimate way.

"No, God, no, your inexperience has nothing to do with it at all!" he says and immediately tries to take a deep breath, looking around seeing the shadows of your parents, realizing that he chose the wrong place and time to clarify the relationship. "I mean, I can't give you what you want. Honey, at my age, I can seduce a young girl only with my unlimited account card, but you... You need attention, love and care. You see how often your father is away from home and I'm there even less often. Besides, you still don't understand that it won't lead to anything, it's falling in love, butterflies in your stomach, what else is there... euphoria? Please don't think that the world has come together like a wedge on me. Believe me, I'm the most lame option."

"Is it still about age?" Through a lump in your throat, you said softly, "Not old enough for you? "

"I'm too old for you"

It sounded like a sledgehammer had fallen on your head. You let out a shuddering sigh, turning away from him again, because in fact, in your opinion, there is nothing wrong with this relationship. You are not a teenager, some of your age may even have children, and sometimes such a thought has slipped through your mind. Only after graduation, not before. Leon claims that it's just falling in love, but it feels like he's trying to convince himself of this and yet it's very difficult for you to say anything to him right now. The moment is really unfortunate.

“It’s not fair” you turned away, not knowing what else to say to him.

In essence, his argument sounded like a stupid excuse to get rid of an annoying fan while remaining noble. The aftertaste of his words nevertheless remains disgusting.

Of course, you won’t complain to daddy, but your soul was becoming more and more lousy as it seemed that this was the same love that was breaking to the core. It’s as if all the bright colors have disappeared from life, leaving only shades of black and gray without a single hint of joy. Perhaps in a few years this will be perceived as stupidity, but what matters is how you feel now. And this is a piercing, gut-wrenching pain. For several months he flirted, cared, made it clear that this was not a game and that everything was serious for him, but the truth turned out to be too cruel.

Your mother comes in exactly at the moment when you can barely restrain yourself from bursting into tears again at the top of your voice, and she perfectly sees this expression on your face. And it’s obvious that you give up, running to your room, leaving the dishes unwashed, so that you can lock yourself in the room again and not leave there for days on end.

Everyone has their own truth. Leon thought that he escaped with less bloodshed and that you were prudent enough not to make stupid mistakes. Because of his actions, many people have already died and if he finds out that you did something to yourself...

Fortunately, your father just thinks that Leon has found the wrong words of comfort, and this is the reason for lying in bed all day because of your lack of desire to do anything at all right now. When your brain becomes a little clearer after several cycles of sleep alternating with insomnia, it eventually requires you to shift your attention to something other than Leon. In fact, the idea of watching The Lord of the Rings is not the worst, although your father was worried that you would withdraw into yourself again after seeing Aragorn and Arwen break up, involuntarily comparing them to yourself, but nothing terrible happened. You just watched TV, even sometimes smiled at some moments, and then fell asleep, and no one dared to disturb your already light sleep.

“Leon shouldn’t have opened this wound. I shouldn’t have asked him to talk to you.”

Your father confessed in the end, feeling guilty for your next relapse of tears. You sigh and at some point you even want to confess everything to him, clutching the corner of the blanket while you and dad watch the movie together, but you change your mind.

It's probably better not to know the whole truth, because if it comes out, then Armageddon will be.

But maybe Leon is right and this is just falling in love, which you just need to get over, despite the fact that it’s not easy.

Kennedy also disappeared from everyone's radar, appearing only at work. However, he still couldn’t concentrate on reports and training; instead of important thoughts, only you and your tear-stained eyes were spinning in his head. He wanted to console you, to tell you that he was wrong, although he told himself the opposite. The decision that he made, Leon considered truly true and correct, but for some reason everything inside him spoke of the opposite, so the only way to feel sorry for himself, he chose alcohol.

It was like a slow death. Being away from a loved one without being able to even touch. Why not agony? every burning sip of alcohol drew your face in front of his eyes and the desire to get lost with you in the world so that both would never be found was something painfully new for Leon.

He will burn in the fire, but you will remain the peak that he cannot reach. Like a fucking drug that he became addicted to and the pain of withdrawal seems to be many times stronger than the one when Ada left him. He desperately needs to get back to you, to his beloved girlfriend, and just be there for you. But it's so wrong. He didn't give a damn about sex… The hated job sucks all the life juices out of him, so the only thing he wants to do after returning home is to get into a hot shower, washing away blood, dirt and guts. He would have taught you everything, explored boundaries together, guided you… It's not such a big problem, considering how attracted you are to him, and not only in an erotic way. Leon just wants to fall asleep with you, hugging you to him. Listening to the chatter and making these stupid jokes that annoy everyone, but at least you were smiling.

Without you, he's drowning in this sea again.

Let this world be so cruel, but it continues to love you with all its soul, therefore it is ready to sacrifice everything without regret and protect you to the end. Every moment with you was colorful, but with his decision, Leon brought everything back to normal, afraid to be happy. At least Chris said something like that to him when she saw that he was drowning himself in alcohol again. These words made Leon curl his lips in an almost malicious smile, snarling because Redfield didn't know how old you were. If he confessed, he would get something like, "Well, it's just lust." Maybe even reminded him of Ada Wong and how Leon was ready to shoot to save this woman.

But life was filled with meaning only when he was with you and not with Ada. He no longer needs a senseless race after each other when he finally managed to bite into a piece of that life where he is loved and expected.

"I have no future with her, Redfield!" he barked, pouring more whiskey into a glass. "My little American dream of a pretty wife, two children and a white picket fence will not come true."

In fact, Leon would be glad to have you alone in his life. He wants too much, although what is available to ordinary people, Leon is fully aware that he has long lost the right to have it. Your father was not afraid to start a family and you, he loves to talk about what pranks you did in childhood and how you sometimes scared your parents by doing something stupid. The usual parental care. Leon thinks that if he were an officer in Raccoon City, as he dreamed, then now he would also be chatting with some cop about what his children are doing.

Eventually, the sand castle built in the head collapsed immediately.

Where is HIS happy "together and forever"? Obviously in another universe, because in this one he still understands that an old jerk with an alcohol problem and an endless sense of guilt clearly shouldn't bother a young girl without experience.

In fact, he's not such a scumbag as to ruin your life. It's better to be a bad experience than an asshole partner who is also never around.

But you're still as beautiful as the day he met you. However, now you keep your distance from each other, which makes the pain of parting remind you how difficult it is without him. Naively, you drew a too unrealistic picture in your head about this relationship and for some reason you still believe in it, hoping for a fairy tale with a happy ending. From that, you constantly look at Leon with a long piercing look that is literally soaked with a plea to take you back.

You could shout, "Look, I'm aware of my choice! And that's you," but sometimes I wondered if he needed you.

After all, Leon deliberately tore up the little that you recreated with him, preferring to go his own way through life alone.

He doesn't talk to you and has kept communication with your father to a minimum due to the inability to look him in the eye. In fact, Leon really wants to get some kind of punishment for what he did to you, for being so dirty and dishonest, and yet like a puppy, he almost whines wishing that it was you who loved him. Maybe there would be another woman who could heal his mental wounds and the question of age would not be so acute, but Leon does not let anyone get too close to him. Sometimes Ada still comes and he honestly tries to find solace in her, sometimes it even works, but his medicine for longing has too short an effect and a new dose is too difficult to find…

Although he knows where you live, what position you like to sleep in, what kind of music you listen to and all that…

On very difficult days, the hand reaches out to read those sent messages. Flipping through the correspondence in the chat, going back to the very beginning when there was no question of any relationship, when you still just considered him just a colleague of your father but already sent something funny, which made a smile appear on his face by itself.

You haven't written to him for about two months, although the impulses to start scribbling message after message still do not leave, but if before it was a cry of the soul for the way he treated you, now you are ready to literally beg him to give you a chance. Yes, you're young, you're still studying, but you don't demand marriage and children from him right away. And besides, you already have all the rights to make decisions for yourself, even if sometimes they are thoughtless and you still need parental help because of your age. But everything comes with age, right? No one starts walking right after birth and you think you have the right to make mistakes and learn from them, so if Leon turns out to be one of them, then you will face the consequences yourself.

You wanted to write something like this to him, but you constantly deleted the printed lines and wrote again, unable to find the strength to send it to him.

Courage came and went at the most inopportune moment, giving way to doubt and low self-esteem. And yet it was he who kissed you first in the barn, gave you expensive gifts and courted you like a man and not like a brat. Seriously, you don't even pay attention to guys your age, focusing only on one man who was killing his liver and psyche. Of course, there is a high probability that in five years or so you will want to go back in time and hit yourself on the head, but nevertheless it will be later. Only in the possible future, but for now, slowly walking through the wet streets of the city under an umbrella, you slowly wander to a familiar apartment, trying to keep your courage in your fists and not let it escape. It gets too wet on the streets, and it's cool, which makes your palms get cold, but still, gathering your courage, you knock on the door of an apartment in the city center.

The knocking is too quiet, so you try to knock a little louder, but as soon as your palm hovers over the door, Leon's face immediately appears in front of you, forcing all the rehearsed words to disappear from your head.

It seems at first he can't believe his eyes. You are standing in front of him, in a cute raincoat, with an umbrella in your hands, whose hand you are nervously pulling and your hair is a little wet - reality and not his drunken imagination, although for a couple of seconds Leon still thinks that this is his drunken delirium.

"Um…Sorry for being uninvited… I just wanted…To talk?" almost stuttering, you say, looking into his blue eyes that seem a little drunk, "Will you let me in?"

He sighs and you wait with bated breath for the verdict, hoping that you don't look like a fool in front of him. It takes maybe ten seconds before Leon nods, stepping back and you enter his apartment with small steps, standing on the threshold, still nervously but holding on to your umbrella more tightly, scratching the handle with your thumb nail in excitement.

Maybe he's just overworked, but there's an unfinished bottle of alcohol on the table and Leon himself seems disheveled, but still he holds out his hand to you and you look at him in amazement, not realizing that he just offers to take your umbrella and raincoat to dry them a little. Slow reaction is normal for ordinary people and Leon never condemns you for this, in fact, he's not even angry, deep down he's probably even glad that you appeared briefly in his life again, however…

"Something happened?" He asks in a tired tone, although he can see from your body language how tense you are, hoping that you don't have any very serious problems, why are you so worried "Do you have problems or…"

At that moment, you realize that the conversation you are about to have will be long and emotionally difficult.

As the saying goes, "Fortune favors the bold " even if your legs are shaking with fear, then at least you will try to solve this dilemma with him.

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