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alphabetboyluvr · 10 months

Text

once the thrill expires | jjk

title credit: cardigan - taylor swift

pairing: college!jungkook x female reader

synopsis:

your housemate-turned-fwb takes another girl home after a night out

warnings: angsty, smutty turmoil. it's not that bad, but it definitely isn't a happy lil number. fingering, oral sex (f receiving), rimming (f receiving), vaginal sex, doggy, protected (!!) sex, lil spanks, jaykay sorta makes out with her ear???, jaykay is a fawk boy who needs to learn self-control, oc is holding out for something that'll never happen, multiple partners in one night (jk), jk calls the reader diz (dizzy)

wordcount: 5.8K

note from holly: virgo boy trauma for you in the form of a jk one shot lmao. it's rare you get virgo boy shit laid this bare but he he i love oversharing on the internet! there's an old paragraph from yet another virgo boy fic hidden in here, too so if you think it looks familiar, that'll be why!!

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

The knock on your en-suite bathroom door comes as a surprise.

The subsequent twist of the lock mechanism from a coin wedged in the bolt on the other side does not.

There’s only one person it would be.

And so you don’t yell. Don’t tell him to go away, even if you do hug your legs into your chest a little tighter.

Sitting on the floor of your shower, dignity is preserved - but with skin as red as the flags that Jungkook freely hands you, and mascara staining your cheeks from the onslaught of piping hot water showering down on you, how dignified can you really be?

No words are spoken as the steam billows from the room, Jungkook not caring to shut the door behind himself. He takes a perch on the closed lid of the toilet, elbows to his knees, tattooed hands clasped beneath his chin. Refuses to look anywhere other than you.

There’s perplexion to his taut jaw - a frown embedded in his brows - but more than anything, there’s an overwhelming sense of confusion in his soft eyes. You’re unaware of the way he’s mirroring your expression back at you; how defeated you look, wet hair sticking to the side of your face, an emptiness in your gaze that is pale in comparison to the void in your chest.

With nothing but the pitter-patter of your shower to fill the space, you’re thankful that he can’t hear the way your heart is beating, or how you’re sniffing back the tears you were freely crying before he arrived.

“Jem messaged me,” he eventually says, quiet beneath the sound of the water. Leaning back, he wipes a palm over his face, then pushes it back into his dishevelled hair. Lets his hand fall between his legs, then shrugs as he looks at you as if to say, 'Don’t look at me like that' or 'It’s not my fault.'

And realistically, you know that it isn’t. Whatever he’s done is within the parameters of what was agreed upon. The way you feel - like Jungkook has stolen the moon and stopped the tides from turning - is not.

It’s not like either of you had ever expected to let things get this far, and definitely not for this long.

What had started as quiet kisses in the corners of clubs when your friends weren’t looking, had catapulted into drunken hook-ups after those aforementioned nights out.

He’d call you Dizzy, ‘cause he was convinced you looked at him like you’d been spinning in circles, all awe-struck and smiley. Pretty. Like a giggle was on the tip of your tongue at all times.

Was easy, back then. Convenient. He was newly single. Not looking for anything.

You’d been quietly harbouring an illicit crush on him from the day you moved into your shared university accommodation. Had been waiting for the stars to align - and once they had, you were certain that soulmates had to exist.

It’s the only way you can explain the small earthquake that happened half the world away at the very time you first met, the tectonic plates shifting to make sure you were perfectly presented to one another.

You didn’t feel the tremors - would have been impossible - but your heart certainly felt something. Adrenaline? Limerence? You’re not sure.

Whatever it was only became more and more prevalent with every tipsy hold of his hand on the way to clubs, or moments stolen in secrecy in the house you now share with six of your friends.

Now in your final year of university, if you spent as much time studying, as you do fretting over Jungkook - what he’s up to, who he’s with - maybe you’d get a first-class degree.

You’re on track for a 2:1.

He’s on track for a first, though.

You choose to believe it’s because he’s naturally more academically inclined (as if you didn’t write an entire paper for him last semester), and not because he spends significantly less time thinking about you.

There’s no need for endless thoughts, though.

The arrangement is simple: You’re friends.

Best friends. Spend all your time together. Are plus ones to events. Fill the void that a partner should fill; at the winter balls, cinema screenings you don't want to see alone, and in the hushed privacy of midnight intimacy. He gets you off when you need it, and you him.

Kisses are never shared between lips - apart from that one summer when he accidentally said he was in love with you, then took it back a week later under the guise of not wanting to ‘ruin’ the friendship.

You don’t speak about that summer.

Hook-ups are in your room, always, ‘cause you’ve only got Jem in the room next door. Jungkook’s room is up on the middle floor, surrounded by all the boys. They’d realise what’s going on far too quickly.

It’s simple - yet excruciatingly complicated when there’s a lack of commitment, and Jungkook looks at you in the way that he does.

His lips are a little deeper than their usual pink this evening, but you put it down to alcohol.

Denial is a wonderful thing, and delusion even greater.

Still, he leans forward to push the shower door open. Leans further still, then knocks the tap off. Lets the water trickle down the drain, the hum of the pipes murmuring like your unspoken grievances.

Rivulets of water chase down your skin. Jungkook watches one race from your knee to your ankle, running straight over the bruises from messy nights out and the small cut at the bottom of your calf from the fountain you’d both traipsed through when you were a little too merry a few nights prior.

He’d given you a piggyback the entire way home, blood staining the white of his shirt; the very essence of you embedded now in the fabric of him.

He’d patched you up after you got home. Showered with you, right here, then carried you the measly five or six steps to your bed. Had told you that you’d definitely get sepsis and die. Kissed it better, then decided he didn’t know any better, and trailed his lips up your leg. Took pity on your impending death and gave you a little, lovely death just to soften the blow.

Funny, how you think sepsis would be preferable over whatever the fuck it is that you’re feeling now.

“Jem messaged me,” he repeats. Presses his lips together, the ring in the corner of his mouth glistening under the white lights of the bathroom. “Said I should check on you. Been in the shower for an hour, apparently.”

Well, you think to yourself, bitterness wrapping around your words like poison ivy. You’ve checked. You can go now.

The words don’t manifest in your throat. Nothing does. Not even the echo of a sob you’ve been holding in since he first stepped foot within your sanctuary.

Instead you’re silent as you get to your feet, not caring for your nakedness. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t seen before. Probably knows your body better than his own at this point. Can look at the faded bruise on your chest and know that it was left there by his lips last week. Can pick out which ones of your dainty linework tattoos were there before he met you, and which ones have been acquired since.

It’s a quiet intimacy, the way Jungkook looks at you. There’s no towel in the bathroom - an oversight by your tipsy brain when deciding you needed to wash yourself clean of the man in front of you after arriving home from the club - and Jungkook doesn’t care to offer you one.

Insanity is the product of looking at your body, he thinks. Can’t remember a time he’s ever seen you like this and hasn’t wanted to be inside you. He’s a simple man in pursuit of simple pleasures, and the way you fit him like a glove is the simplest pleasure of them all.

“Hm?” He questions your lack of a response.

His deep black eyes are just like the depths of the ocean floor, and it feels like he’s dragging you right down every single time he looks at you like this. Softly. Tenderly. Sweetly. As if he actually gives a shit.

There’s no room for two in this bathroom. It’s not a space designed to be shared, no matter how many times you’ve both squeezed into the shower under far different circumstances - though now you come to think of it, perhaps they weren’t so dissimilar.

It was always Jungkook’s pursuit of pleasure that put you in that position, just like it put you there tonight.

“Hey,” he says quietly, as you turn to leave, his grip on your waist pulling you between his legs. You don’t look at him. Just keep your head turned to face out of the room - but you make no attempt to leave. Especially when his nose brushes up against the bottom of your ribs right between your breasts, and he husks, “Why are you being like this?”

The softness of his lips as he presses them against your sternum, long lashes splayed across the top of his cheeks, has you spiralling. Kind of feels like he’s twisting a corkscrew through your heart. You know he’ll rip it right out - but maybe you’ll let him, if it means he’ll kiss the wound better.

“Hmm?” He hums. One of your hands rests on his shoulder, the other in his hair, and that’s how Jungkook knows he’s rectified the damage done for a short while. It’s like putting washi tape over holes punched in the walls - useless, and bound to fall off eventually, but ever so pretty in the meantime. Another washi-tape kiss is pressed to your skin, a little higher this time. “We had a good night, didn’t we?”

The tenderness of his voice rewrites the events of the evening. A good night.

Not one with tears, and jealousy, and arguments that people who claim to be just friends have no business having. A night shared together, perhaps, with no one else to intrude.

Didn’t we?

You so prefer this false chain of events - the one where he left the bar with you, and held your hand in the cab ride back just like he’d done in the cab ride there.

“Is she still here?”

He’s surprised that you’re mentioning it. Half-expected you to act like it never happened. Like she never happened. Is what you usually do, whenever he goes home with someone that isn’t you.

Still, he just continues to gently stroke your sides. Doesn’t present you with any sort of weakness.

“No.”

“Did you fuck her?”

There’s a little venom to your tone; the poison ivy around your thoughts sprouting now from your throat.

Her. Some inconsequential girl that neither of you will likely ever see again. Looked nothing like you, but a hell of a lot like his ex.

“No, Diz,” he softens the sternness of his tone with a name only he calls you. “I didn’t fuck her.”

You’ve no idea if this is a lie or not.

It’ll be accepted as truth for an hour. Maybe two. Just enough time for you to convince yourself that you’re the one he wants. That he couldn’t bear to fuck anyone else. That he sent her on her way after a kiss or awkward fumble, because he realised no one else could feel as good as you.

You’ll ignore the fact you know he’s here because Jem messaged him.

You’ll ignore the fact he thinks you’ve been in the shower for over an hour, and has no actual knowledge of the events of it all.

You’ll ignore the scratch mark on his back, and in the morning you’ll believe it was you who left there even though your nails are bitten right down.

The lies you’ll tell yourself will be far more grand than the ones Jungkook ever tells you. Nobody can ever hurt you quite like you hurt yourself.

And so, against your better judgement, you let him follow you to your bed.

There's a clang as he tosses his rings down into the ceramic dish beside your bed. It's white, and speckled in tiny black dots, and matches the one Jungkook has in his own bedroom. Not really a surprise. He was the one who bought it for you. Before then, he used to just tuck his rings beneath your pillows - but he kept losing them, and he found it annoying having to rummage around for them whenever he was trying to make a silent exit so as to not wake you.

You tell yourself that small things like this are Jungkook's way of integrating himself into your life; creating permanence. In reality, it's just something that makes it easier for him to leave.

Leaving is the last thing on your mind right now, though, and it will be until he comes.

It used to be different. He used to stay. You convince yourself each and every time that he’ll do what he used to do before things got so confusing. That he’ll stay, and that things will be okay.

You let him kiss your skin, but he’ll never kiss your lips. Let him lay claim to your body, even though you know he’ll never lay claim to your soul.

It’s nice to pretend.

Nice, when he lays you down and rids himself of his shirt. Nice, when he presses your legs apart, and looks at you like you’re the first woman he’s ever laid eyes upon. Nice, when he says shit like, “Such a nice cunt,” and “Let me make you feel good.”

So nice, when he strokes up and down your inner thigh, eyes trained on your pussy.

So, so nice when he slowly drips a little spit between his pursed lips and watches as it trails down your folds.

So fucking nice, when he spreads you with his index and middle finger, groaning at the sight of you.

See, Jungkook can be nice. Can be honest. Can tell you how much he wants you, and you can believe him without having to do mental gymnastics over it all.

As he sinks his middle finger into you - “Shit. So wet for me, aren’t you?” - Jungkook is on his best behaviour. He’ll make you feel so good that you’ll forget he ever made you feel bad, cause he needs this. Needs you.

Not in the life-debilitating, earth-shattering, universe-bending way that you need him, but in a way that isn’t too dissimilar.

You’re his best friend. He loves you in his own, curious way. Would lay his life on the line for you. Just can’t seem to keep his dick in his pants for no other reason than selfish gluttony.

It’s his fatal flaw, but he just thinks everyone has them. That most people are like this.

Of the seven deadly sins, Jungkook wields them all. Too proud to admit his wrongdoings. Greedy in his need to have everything life can offer, and how he refuses to limit himself to just you. His lust and gluttony go hand in hand - yet whenever any one else with similar predispositions look in your direction, he turns green with envy. Green, until he’s red, wrath taking hold.

But he’s lazy, too. Far too settled in how easy it is to have his way with you. Why would he try harder when you never make him?

That’s your cardinal sin: desperation.

It reeks. Spiced vanilla and black cherry. Tarnishes your skin, until Jungkook licks it from you.

And so as his lips press down your legs, wet and wanting, you don’t object. In fact, you don’t really do anything. You just allow it to happen.

Because you are desperate - for him, his approval, his desire. His heart.

You’ll never get it, mind you, for his heart is hollow.

Saw every example of what he considered to be true love crackle and crumble until it fell apart. Parents divorced. High-school sweetheart cheated. Love, as you know it, doesn’t exist in Jungkook’s understanding of life.

You never stood a chance. Not really.

The only times his heart is full is when he steals enough adoration from yours, and cosplays it as his own. Shines it back at you, and tricks you into thinking that maybe he did mean it when he mumbled false declarations into your lips.

But that was three summers ago, now, and Jungkook is a creature of habit. Too stuck in his ways to ever change. Comfortable in this chaos with you.

‘Cause while the other girls are fleeting, and fun, and always very nice, they’re never comfortable. Not like you are.

“I liked your dress tonight,” he whispers, as he pushes a second finger into you. Pumps them gently, palm skywards, coaxing soft little moans from your lips. Curls them just right, just like he always does.

The affection of such a compliment rids you of the haunting way he’d looked at you earlier that evening.

Up, down. No smile. Turned away to change the song coming through the aux at pre-drinks. Didn’t look at you again until he was passing out shots for everyone to take. Just nodded towards your necklace - the one his hobbyist silversmith mother made you for Christmas - and asked, “You like it?”

The pendant is small. Embossed with the letters DJ - the name his mother collectively calls you whenever you spend the summer together at his place. The hammered edge of the pendant matches the ring that wraps around your thumb. Another one of her creations, gifted to you by him for your birthday.

“Of course I do,” you’d said. Seemed silly for him to ask. You wear it most days.

“Good,” he’d nodded, then took his shot and pretended as if he wasn't all too aware that your dress would be attracting good-for-nothing men all night.

See, Jungkook knows you like the necklace. Had just been reminding you of it, and the fact it’s his initial on there with the initial only he calls you. Well, him and his mother. Goes with the territory.

She’s seen you through your formative years. Only ever sees the good parts, because Jungkook orchestrates it that way.

She doesn’t see the moments like these, when he’s crushed your self esteem and tries to fix it in the most idiotic of ways.

The necklace pools around the base of your throat as your head tips back into the pillows, his thumb coming to toy with your clit, gently pressing down.

“Shush, Diz,” he smiles, so pleased to see your body responding in the way that it always does. “You’ll get us in trouble.”

God forbid the people you live with - who’ve all heard the arguments after his illicit encounters with randomers, and seen his face of thunder whenever you’re getting ready for first dates - ever figure out you’re fucking. Not like it’s obvious in the slightest. Not why Jem texted Jungkook, instead of checking on you herself.

Biting onto your wrist, you try and stifle the impact of his touch - ‘cause if they do hear, it will be your fault. You’ll be the reason everyone knows your dirty little secrets. You’ll be the one who ruins it all. Not him. Just you.

He doesn’t mean to condition you in such a way. Doesn’t even really realise he’s doing it.

Nor do you - but your self esteem is shot to shit. You’re good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love, even if Jungkook insists that there’s no one he adores more. It always comes with an add-on of ‘you’re my best friend’, or ‘you wouldn’t wanna date me anyways’.

Maybe he’s right.

But maybe it would have been nice to try.

Shame.

The pace of Jungkook’s fingers pumping into you begins to slow. Leaking around the base of his knuckles, you’re just as wet as you always are with him. Even when the emotional labour of letting him have his way with you feels like a ten tonne weight on your chest, crushing down on your ribs and spoiling you forevermore, your body still wants him. Only him. Always him.

Withdrawing his fingers, Jungkook taps the outer side of your thigh. “On your front for me, Diz. Face down, ass up.”

With anyone else, Jungkook is far more often on the receiving end. It’s a shame, ‘cause his talents go to waste, it’s just what he’s found to be typical of random hook-ups.

He loves pussy. Loves eating it. Loves that you love it, too.

Slow as he spreads your ass with his hands, Jungkook really doesn’t fuck around with wasting time. He dives in without hesitation, burying his tongue between your folds. Cares not for accuracy, nor carefulness. Just wants his tongue all over you.

Your body lurches forward, hands clutching onto the duvet beneath you. He’s always been like this. Hungry. Just as desperate as you so often feel, but better at hiding it than you are.

His tongue laps against you. Sinks into your soaked hole as deep as he can get it. Uses one of his hands to reach around and toy with your clit while he continues to explore somewhere he knows like the back of his hand.

Pulling back a little, Jungkook’s breathing is heavy. You can hear it. Groan, as he grips your ass again. Spanks it softly, then get back to his previous position. Licks a stripe from your clit up to your leaking cunt, then continues. Flicks up against the tight muscle you rarely let him fuck around with.

But you want him to want you. Want him to have you in whichever capacity he so desires.

You reach back. Tangle a hand in his hair, and encourage him to massage your tight hole with his tongue, like you know he loves to do.

It’s kinda cute, in a way. He likes doing it, ‘cause he loves the way it feels whenever your tongue toys with his ass. Assumes other people must love it too. Just wants you to feel good. Wants to right his earlier wrongs.

He continues to trace up and down both your holes, stimulating your entire body in the process. Rubs your clit with his fingers, till you're writhing against the sheets, body pressed flat to the cotton as Jungkook begins to fuck his fingers into your again.

“You gonna cum for me?” He husks, a smile on his wet lips as he watches the tell-tale sign of an orgasm rush over you. Soon, you’ll be looking at him with dizzy eyes once more, and your namesake will make Jungkook feel things he pretends he can’t feel. “That’s it, Diz. All over my fingers. Good girl. Good fuckin’ girl.”

There’s a relief that comes with your orgasm for Jungkook. Hope that you’ll stop being mardy with him. He doesn’t like it when you don’t like him. These days, he keeps making choices that make it hard for you to like him.

But you always like him - like him so much - in the comedown of a climax.

He doesn’t give you much time to recover. Wants to coax a second orgasm from you while he still can. Pulls you back into position - face down, ass up - and pushes down his sweats. Cock hard, there’s a small damp patch in his boxers from the precum he’s leaked for you. Lines himself up.

“Let me fuck you,” he begs before he pushes into you.

“Uh-uh,” you full forward a little, preventing him from doing what he so desperately wants to do. Turning to look over your shoulder, you shake your head. “Condom.”

He furrows his brows. Has the audacity to look fucking offended, as if he didn’t bring another girl back to the house you share.

You’re stupid, and you’re desperate, and you make all the wrong choices, but you aren’t naive. Not really. Your delusions and denial are always elevated away from reality, of which you like to think you have a firm grip on.

And so you simply say, “Don’t believe you didn’t fuck her.”

He doesn’t deny it. Shakes his head, not that you can see it. Just reaches to the shelf above your bed, and gets one from the pot you keep them tucked away in. Rarely ever use them. It’s a novelty, more than not, when you use them. Something to make him last a little longer.

It’s different today.

Today, it’s because you don’t know if his cock is fucking clean or not.

It should crush you, but it doesn’t.

Just a fact of life. Jungkook fucked someone else less than three hours ago. Came, probably. For someone else. Over someone else. Inside someone else.

But that desperation of yours is back once more. You want to be the reason why Jungkook loses his mind in temporary bliss. To be better. To be his last memory of the evening.

And so as Jungkook rolls the condom down his thick shaft, you position yourself perfectly for him. Whimper as the tip of his cock kisses your entrance. Whine, as he pushes inside you.

“That’s it,” he husks, gripping your ass cheeks to spread them nice and wide. Looking down to where your bodies meet, Jungkook is reminded of why he enjoys you so much. No one takes him so well. No one. He knows this. Doesn’t know why the fuck he ever feels the need to seek out anyone else. They’re never as good as this. “Fuck. That’s it, baby.”

Your hips roll back, ass bouncing in that hypnotic way he always swears will ruin him. His grip loosens to let you do the hard work, one of his hands stroking up your spine until it’s resting around the base of your throat.

Taking back a little control, he keeps your head pushed into the pillows. Grunts. “Take this cock so fuckin’ well, don’t you?”

The mumble you moan into the sheets isn’t enough for him. He always does this. Asserts control and then realises he actually kinda fuckin’ hates it. Fingers still wrapped around the base of your neck, Jungkook pulls you up.

Chest pressed to your back, Jungkook wastes no time locking you in place with an arm around the front of your waist. His cock continues to pump upwards into you, the movements a little subdued but by no means lacking.

The ridge of his thick head rubs up against your sweet spot. Gets you so fucking needy. Has your hand dipping to your clit to match the pressure.

And when you do? Oh, it’s heaven. You can’t help but whine - so Jungkook uses the hand that isn't on your waist to cover your mouth.

“You only get to cum if you’re quiet,” he tells you. “Be quiet for me, baby.”

But his hips are erratic. The sounds are lewd; skin on skin. It’s wet. Disgusting. Needy. Him, just as much as you. Sweat blossoms on his skin, keeping you both in this clammy haze of hedonism.

Catching his lips on your ear, Jungkook doesn’t care if he isn’t supposed to let kisses linger so close to your lips. Tongue wet, he intrudes. Licks the shell of your ear. Grazes his teeth on your lobe. Whispers, “You looked so pretty tonight,” then drags his tongue across your ear.

Cares not for precision nor accuracy, just the fact that this is an area of the body he doesn’t often explore, and that maybe he should do it more often, given how tightly your pussy is clamping around him.

There’s something about it - the obstruction of one of your senses likely to blame, sound distorted whenever his tongue licks against it - that makes you whine.

You can’t even really do that now. Are too muffled beneath his hand - until he pushes the two fingers that had been inside your pussy earlier into your mouth.

The taste is just the same as it always is whenever he does shit like this. Loves having you taste yourself. Experiencing what he experiences. Wants you to know exactly why he’s incapable of letting you go.

“Slutty little mouth,” he smirks against your ear. “Gonna finish in it.”

“Mhhm?” you mumble against the fingers you’re keeping wet and warm for him.

“Mhmm,” he replies. Presses a kiss to your temple, ‘cause he isn’t really thinking straight. Groans when your cunt clenches from the touch. “God, you want it, don’t you? Want it so bad. Wanna swallow my cum.”

Of course you do. You’ll take what he’ll give you.

Your mumble around his fingers isn’t enough. He wants to hear you say it. Frees your mouth of himself. Grips your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Turns you to face further over your shoulder.

He’s just gonna make you say it. Just make you say something lewd to get him a little closer. Just… Just gonna… Just...- Oh, fuck it. Your lips are just there, and they’re wet, and they’re pouty and - God, forgive me - perfect for him.

His eyes flitter between your eyes and your lips. Is aware you’re doing the same.

“Kook,” you whisper, as if you’re about to reprimand him.

“Please,” he begs. Thinks he needs this just as much as you do. Maybe even more so.

And so somewhere between the overwhelming acknowledgement that this is a catastrophic chain of events, and the promise of a happy ending (of which you know damn well will never reach fruition), you let him sink his lips into yours.

You’re pretty in war, and even prettier in defeat.

Jungkook thinks you’re prettiest when you’re all his.

You think that to be his is to accept an eternal loss.

The breath of his nose is heavy against your cheek as his lips press into yours, brows furrowed. The need for you to be lewd is abandoned, ‘cause Jungkook doesn’t even think he’ll last long enough for it. Thinks that nothing gets him closer than the flavour of your lips.

Hips still jerking up, the sound of his skin hitting your ass echoing around the room, Jungkook fucks himself into you until he can do it no longer. Pulls away. Rips off his condom. Tosses it to the floor. Gets you face down again. Wanks himself to the point of coming undone, hot spurts of cum dripping onto your ass and spilling down to the valley of your spine.

He’s the one moaning now, your body defiled by a boy who you wish would paint you in pretty compliments instead. Still, this is a compliment. Kind of. You’re hot enough to make him cum. That’s nice, you suppose.

“Shit,” he chokes out, breathing all out of sync, heartbeat far too rapid. A light spank is tapped against your ass, then softly stroked. He soothes. Aloe on sunburn. Milk with hot sauce. Pretty kisses in the comedown of a rough fuck.

You won’t get those. Wasn’t a particularly rough fuck, either - and yet it hurts so much when he gets up to leave.

It’s awkward. He doesn’t really say bye. Doesn’t acknowledge the fact he stoked a fire inside you that burned you from the inside out. Ignores the ashes that are scattered around your vessel, as if your soul has been ejected from its home.

He’s warm, when you look at him. That little part of your heart has been stolen once more. He’s just feeding it back to you.

“Sorry,” he says, a hand on your doorknob. “I shouldn’t- I mean, we shouldn’t-”

“It’s fine,” you offer.

That’s the thing about Jungkook. He’ll give you the world, then realise it was never his to give. Always has to ask for it back. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s fucked you, then acted as if was foolish - only to repeat the same mistakes the next evening.

It’s what he’s always done, and is what he’ll always do.

You’ll never learn.

The shirt you chuck on to head downstairs the next morning is his.

Far too big for you, it finishes around your thighs. Television blaring in the room beneath you, it’s obvious your housemates are awake, and even as you’re trudging down the stairs, you’re not quite sure you’re alive.

The headache of an overbearing hangover is threatening your life. You’re certain of it. The fact your housemates have the television set to what must be the maximum volume? Only further sending you to an early grave.

And yet when you see Jungkook sitting by the breakfast bar, hair in all different directions, a bowl of cereal in front of him, and smiling in the direction of whomever else is in the room, you find yourself smiling, too.

“Morning,” you say pleasantly as you walk into the kitchen, ready to flop your forehead down on Jungkook’s shoulder like you so often do.

Ready, until you notice the look in his eyes when he turns to face you.

Ready, until you glance in the direction of his previous smile.

Ready, until you see the girl who looks a lot like his ex-girlfriend and absolutely nothing like you leaning on the other side of the counter. Mug from your trip to Amsterdam together in her hands, and the shirt you got him for his birthday covering her body, she smiles.

You’re drowning.

“Oh,” you say, not looking at him. Only her. “I didn’t realise we had company.”

“Is she still here?”

“No.”

She’s awkward as she nods. “Sorry, hey. I crashed here last night - hope you don’t mind? It’s just you know what it’s like getting an uber at that time-”

“Yeah, yeah,” you nod. Smile. Jungkook thinks you look pretty - but of course he does. You look defeated. “Totally.”

“Did you fuck her?

“No, Diz. I didn't fuck her.”

“Jungkook said you were feeling unwell last night?” She tries to make conversation. She needn’t. You feel far more unwell now than you ever did last night - and that’s before you notice the pretty purple bruise forming on her neck. “How are you feeling now?”

Her care is kind. Considerate. Wholly wasted on you because you’re gonna lie, and say that you’re fine, even though it feels as if your lungs have been filled with venom spat by a lover who is incapable of loving.

Still, you don’t look at Jungkook. Just make your excuses. Leave.

And even though he knows that he should, Jungkook doesn’t chase after you.

He lets you go, because he knows you’ll always come back. You always do.

But if you don't?

Well, he’ll go back to you, and you’ll let him. Again, you always do.

From the kitchen, Jungkook can hear your showering starting up. Appetite lost, he isn’t listening to the girl in front of him. Isn’t even really sure of her name.

All that he’s sure of is that the fall out of this is not gonna be pretty.

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook ff #jk ff #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #byholly #angst #smut #jungkook x y/n #fuckboy!jungkook #college!jungkook #college au

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that-bwitch · 4 days

Text

but daddy, I love him

summary: your choice of a partner doesn't leave your parents satisfied, seeing as it's Sirius Black, an infamous "blood traitor". does anything have the power to convince them? are you even willing to try?

pairing: sirius black x reader

warning: wizarding bigotry, teenage angst, smoking

wc: 3.8k

a/n: the first of the many inspired by taytay's ttpd. "but daddy I love him" is so sirius coded, I had to.

You wanted to love your family so badly, you truly did. Throughout your whole life your parents had been giving you whatever you needed and wanted – they had the money and they had the power to make your life as simple as the Accio spell. But no one ever stopped to think what it really meant to belong to one of the most ancient pureblood families in the Wizarding World. Everybody always saw the benefits: the new shiny textbooks, the perfectly ironed uniform, owls bringing you the most delicious snacks and rare books relating to your latest interests every week, your bed frame in the dorm decorated to the brim. You appreciated being that privileged, you never failed to thank your parents for the way they brought you up. However, you were fiercely shielded from any outside troubles that could possibly hinder your education and your innocence, as they put it. Ultimately, fate decided to perform its finest display of ruthless irony on you, and your parents’ endless disquietude became the very thing that led to the demise of your relationship with them.

You never expected your dating life to be of such interest to your family, simply thanks to the fact that it was never a question. You hadn’t had any serious partners before, partly due to your tender age, partly due to your own indifference to finding a suitable match.

But then Sirius Black asked you out, and your whole world had stars aligned in front of you in heart-shaped constellations; and it came down in shambles at the same time.

“Love, you alright?”

His delicately worried voice pulled you out of the misery that your parents’ letter promptly put you in.

“Uh, yeah, I guess,” you answered, shaking your head to temporarily kick the haunting unpleasantries out of your mind. “It’s just… this.”

You showed Sirius a thick envelope with a gold-encrusted seal, your family crest shining proudly and glaringly in the rays of the first summer sun. He barely glanced at the paper and snatched it from you, carelessly throwing it into the fireplace. You watched the flames hungrily devouring the carefully folded letter but leaving the seal perfectly undamaged. It stared at you like a glowing all-seeing orb, burning through your skull and serving as a reminder that everything you had just read was real and imminent.

“The school’s gotta give you props for all this rubbish to keep the fireplaces running.”

You chuckled at Sirius’ vitriol but it hardly lightened the thunderclouds gathering right above your head.

“You know words don’t burn, right?”

“Seems to me like they just did.” Sirius pointed at the seal that finally started to melt, stuck between pieces of firewood and piles of ash.

You let out a heavy breath and turned away from the fireplace to face your boyfriend. He was lying on the couch, head resting on a soft velvety cushion, looking at you with quite a joyful expression on his face. In your mind, it didn’t fit the situation at all, but you had gotten used to his nonchalance about your parents’… dislike of him. Or, better put, their vicious hatred that they never even tried to hide.

“Do you really not care?” you wondered for the umpteenth time, knowing that a no was a sure follow-up to your question.

“Why would I?” Sirius grinned and his hand safely covered yours, resting on the arm of the sofa. “The best part of your fam loves me, and others are a bunch of wankers.”

“I’m the only part of my fam that loves you, babe,” you pointed out, rolling your eyes but giving him a little smile. He smiled back, but stayed silent, noticing that you weren’t finished yet. “I’m already seventeen but I still feel like I’m a wee baby when they talk to me, or send me letters, or even look at me!”

“I know, love, it sucks. But you remember the plan, right?”

You nodded, and the smile on your face had finally turned genuine.

“The one where we come to my graduation dinner together even though my parents explicitly stated many times that there’s not a single universe in which they allow you to step on the property, and if you do, it would be over their dead bodies?”

“Merlin, the way you describe it! Might just be the best prank I’ve ever pulled!”

Sirius burst out laughing and you couldn’t help but follow his lead, his contagious joy making you feel whole again. The two of you came up with this madness of a plan as soon as you heard about your mother talking about a graduation dinner in your honour. They would never allow Sirius to attend, not in a million years; hell, they refused to even look at him when they saw you off at Platform 9 ¾ at the beginning of your last year at Hogwarts. They ignored his existence whenever he came into their sight, like during the holidays, when you got off the train hand in hand with your boyfriend and your parents greeted you, hugged you, kissed you on the forehead, but Sirius was frozen out completely, as if his existence was but a figment of your imagination. He never cared though; he would snicker at their theatrics and kiss you right in front of them, throwing a challenge directly in their stuck-up faces of the Wizarding nobility. Your parents came to know that their never-ending nagging wouldn’t stop you from dating Sirius Black, but they did hold specks of hope that you would grow out of your “immature phase” and give them what they wanted – a perfect little husband from another holier-than-thou household.

Never in a thousand lifetimes would you agree.

The time had come. You had to admit that you were somewhat nervous - never before had you defied your parents’ rules so explicitly and so shamelessly. You Floo’d to the Diagon Alley under the guise of last-minute preparations for the big event. Sirius was waiting for you right there, fully prepared: he was sporting a leather jacket, torn up jeans and a nearly finished cigarette in his mouth. This lad certainly went all out to look as much as a rebellious kid cliché as it was humanly possible, and you absolutely adored it. You couldn’t wait to see the reactions; your whole family was to be present at the dinner, even the most distant relatives, who might not have heard about Sirius at all – your parents hid the fact you were dating him like a dirty secret never to be uncovered.

“Love, you ready?”

Sirius took your hand in his, clearly feeling your accelerated pulse against his own steady heartbeat.

“I was less scared of our Transfiguration N.E.W.T., if I’m honest,” you admitted, hearing your voice tremble ever so slightly. “But then again, McGonagall isn’t a sanctimonious bitch.”

Sirius let out a short laugh, but his eyes were the most earnest when he gave you one last look before turning towards the fireplace, with a handful of Floo powder ready to go.

“Let’s show them, baby. You and I, against the world.”

With his encouraging words swirling in your mind, you let yourself get sucked into the labyrinths of the Floo Network, headstrong into what could turn out as the worst and the best moment of your whole life.

Your clumsy roll out into the main living room of the family manor was a perfect start for a spectacle that was inevitably about to unfold. As soon as you stood up, Sirius flew out right behind you, almost knocking you down to the floor again.

“Daughter? What is going on?!”

Your father’s voice sounded like a church bell above you. At last, you looked up at a crowd of people, all dressed up to bits, staring at you agape, their jaws on a synchronous road to meet the bristly carpet of the living room. The silence was so loud one could hear grains of sand pouring into the bottom half of an ancient hourglass adorning the mantelpiece.

“Mom, Dad,” you started, dusting off your ivory white Sunday best, “and you, Aunt Sarah, and you, Aunt Hannah, and, of course, you, Uncle Marcus! I’m terribly sorry if I’m forgetting some of you, it’s not often that you grace us with your presence!”

Sarcasm was spilling out of your pretentious speech, as you finally had the audacity to say what you had been wanting to express for the past year. Sirius’ presence gave you some much needed courage not to stumble on your words as you tore your heart out of your chest and pinned it shut on your sleeve.

“Merlin, you lot aren’t that suave for a bunch of sirs and madams!”

Speaking of the devil.

Sirius whistled, reaching your side and putting his arm around your bare shoulders. You had picked a dress like that specifically to piss your parents off a little more. They had always told you that any skin visible to the eye below the neck and above the knees was awfully indecent, very unladylike – so you just had to stick it to them.

“Daughter, what is he doing here?!” your mother tried to whisper, but in the deafening silence her voice could be heard as clearly as if she used the Sonorus spell. “Didn’t we tell you…”

“That you’d rather die than accept your dear daughter dating someone you deem undesirable?”

Your mother tried shushing you, giving desperate faux smiles to the guests around.

“What, you didn’t tell anyone?” you continued with a sneer. “Aunts, Uncles, cousins, meet Sirius Black! We’re in love!”

An array of ahs and ohs rang out in the air, and you could see Aunt Hannah clutching her chunky pearl necklace like it was her favourite childhood plushie. Sirius gave the crowd a way overly-exaggerated curtsy.

“Sirius Black, at your service,” he announced, taking out a cigarette out of the pack and popping it between his teeth, ready to light it. Before he had time to do it, the lighter was knocked out of his hands, hitting the wall on the other side of the room with a loud thump. You noticed your father’s moving hand hiding his wand back into the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Don’t you dare smoke inside this house!” the man shouted, wishing to incinerate Sirius right where he stood with his scathing glare.

Sirius barked out a laugh and another lighter appeared in his hand. He didn’t go for a cigarette this time, merely playing with the thing in-between his fingers.

“Rule number one when at a pureblood’s den,” he mockingly drawled the words, turning the lighter on and off, “always have a spare lighter.”

You couldn’t hold in a chuckle when you saw your parents ominously fuming at every syllable escaping your boyfriend’s mouth. Your father sighed so loudly, one would think he was on his death bed.

“Let us take this outside, shall we?” He motioned towards the field serving as the manor’s backyard. You looked at the innocent flowers quivering in the wind and thought that they didn’t deserve whatever mess was about to happen within family bounds on this beautiful summer evening.

“Don’t you think it’s unfair, Dad, to deprive our lovely audience?”

You gave the people around you the fakest brightest smile you could muster. No one returned it.

“Daughter, do not taunt me,” your father warned you. “We can use the dining room, if you so desire, but nothing happens here.”

You glanced at Sirius and caught his nod of approval. The dining room was close enough so that your parents couldn’t possibly hurt Sirius, or even you – you were quite sure they wouldn’t touch you with a tip of a finger, but a bit of discretion didn’t seem too excessive. Plus, and it was the only reason you agreed – you didn’t have to suffocate under the heavy stares of your kin.

The dining room wasn’t too different from the living room, the only obvious distinction being a long hardwood table stretching almost wall to wall. It wasn’t yet set – the meal itself was to start at a later hour. Your mother was the last to enter, struggling to dismiss a choir of what-a-messes from your pathetic aunts with desperate promises to deal with the whole situation as soon as they could. She cast a charm to silence you to the rest of the world and turned, at last, to face you. Your father slipped into one of the dining chairs, but you and Sirius remained standing, given some sense of dominance due to the now apparent height difference.

“I will not dance around the subject, daughter, we are terribly disappointed in you.”

Father’s words didn’t sting as much as you thought, and you almost let out a loud sigh of relief as this realization dawned on you. They almost had a tinge of freedom in them, a bittersweet taste of long-awaited liberty. All expectations burdening your fragile shoulders suddenly vanished and you could straighten your back and run, conquering hill after hill, mountain after mountain. They were disappointed. You had nothing to uphold anymore.

“Oh, I heard this one before.” Behind you Sirius laughed, almost grunting, which made you chuckle as well. “Trust me, babe, it only gets better from here.”

Mother shot a highly disapproving look at Sirius, but stayed silent. You always hated it; “A good wife lets her husband talk,” she once said in response to your childish question, and you never asked again.

“What about, Dad? Does my happiness look disappointing to you?” Your question sounded naive, but you knew you hit the exact spot. Your parents had been telling you since your earliest years that all they wanted for you was happiness. Apparently, they forgot to add “happiness that we approve of and scrupulously choose for you” at the end.

“Your happiness? What happiness, daughter? Him? He’s the happiness?”

Your father spat out each word as if it was poison he had accidentally drunk, as if it was a travesty to mention Sirius Black and happiness in the same sentence.

“You do not know what happiness looks like, daughter. You’re only seventeen. You do not know any better.”

“And what do you know about happiness, Dad?!”

Your voice cracked as you felt it growing louder. At this point, the conversation couldn’t avoid turning into a full-blown fight, but it was destined to be exactly that from the beginning. You came prepared.

“Is this perfectly sleek suit of yours happiness? Are my Outstanding N.E.W.Ts happiness? Is having your whole life laid out in front of you from the day you were born happiness, Dad?!”

“You do not know what you are talking about!” Father shouted, his fist rapidly meeting the surface of the table. You flinched and Sirius was quick to jump in front of you, his wand squeezed tightly in his hand.

“Sir, just so you know, this wand has been used on authority figures before.” Sirius waved it in front of him, as if it was but another gauntlet thrown into your father’s face. The sarcasm in his “Sir” was flaming hot. “And for all I care, you’re no authority.”

Father took out his own wand from the same inner pocket and pointed it at Sirius.

“Boy, I will not bat an eye if you turn to dust right here and now,” he stated, his nose wrinkled in disgust, but his eyes slowly turning a shade of bloody red. It was your turn to step in between them, shielding your bold but reckless boyfriend from your father’s simmering rage.

“Dad, stop, I love him!”

It wasn’t the first case of you telling your parents that you loved Sirius, but as these words made an escape from you this time, they had almost acquired a new meaning. They felt more real, more pointed and firmer. Your father didn’t think so. He merely sneered at your proud declaration and rolled his exasperated eyes.

“Love, happiness… All this pointless charade just to prove that you are still a petulant child.” Father turned his head to look at his wife, who nodded in unconditional agreement.

“We did not raise you like that, daughter,” she finally spoke, her tone the same as your father’s.

“Your mother is right. You had everything, daughter, everything you did and did not need. And what do you do in return? Mess around with this blood traitor?!” Father spat out the last word with utmost repugnance.

Honestly speaking, the phrase had a way worse effect on you than on Sirius. He had time to grow some thick skin, dealing with bullshit bigotry from blood-purity lunatics for a while, but it was a first for you – hearing such venom from your parent, whom you still hoped to respect and to love.

“If you, sir, are dumb enough to think this was an insult – try the fuck again.”

Mother gasped and shouted “Language!”, but Sirius’ only response came in the form of a sly grin. As soon as he did it, Father jumped up from his seat and pointed his wand at Sirius with such force that it almost slid out of his hand. Sirius mirrored his actions in a relaxed, almost lethargic manner, as if he was calling Father’s bluff.

“STOP. RIGHT. NOW!”

You couldn’t hold it in anymore. With every single passing second, your boundaries were being stomped on by your parents, and even though you had the most pleasure doing it back, you wished for the mess to end. The two men lowered their wands and stared at you simultaneously – Sirius with pride, and Father – with fury.

“Dad, Mom, do you not understand?! You never saw me as a person, just a damn doll to dress up!” You completely ignored your parents’ shock at your straightforward use of a very simple curse word, because it was just a beginning. “You gave me everything, and for what? For me to follow your every fucking order to a T?! For you to bitch and moan about every single decision I make using my pretty damn sound mind?!”

“What has this blood traitor done to you, daughter?” your mother sighed, looking at you with forced sympathy. “You are swearing at your own loving parents who just want to save you…”

“If there’s something to save me from, it’s you!”

You didn’t buy Mother’s crocodile tears that were about to stream down her cheeks. Always the same shit, always her clutching her heart, or her head, or both at the same time. She wasn’t about to coax you again.

“Listen to your mother! You are carrying our noble family name, tracing back centuries. You cannot disgrace it with your outrageous behaviour!”

“Not for long!”

Sirius’ voice was a breath of fresh air in a viscous swamp of your parents’ soliloquies, but for the first time today you didn’t know where he was going. The only thing he gave you was a reassuring smile, which was nice but not helpful at all.

The next minute unraveled in front of you second by second, and you felt each one pass by like the Unforgivables barely missing you and whizzing through the room. Sirius hid his wand and instead took something out of his pocket – you couldn’t discern the thing, but it looked suspiciously similar to a tiny box, – simultaneously getting down on one knee. Three pairs of eyes widened at the same time, but with different emotions concealed in their depths: Father was enveloped with pure wrath and despair; Mother was simply shocked, covering her mouth with a trembling hand; you felt nearly hysterical, your brain vacant from any foreign thoughts except for the man kneeling in front of you with what you could already see was a ring peeking from the wooden box.

“My love,” Sirius began, fully content with every reaction he received so far, “my baby, my little nugget of joy…”

You didn’t want to interrupt him but couldn’t help laughing at the pet name.

“I’d be a bit wordier if it wasn’t, y’know…” His head tilted towards your parents, who still hadn’t evaporated the two of you for some reason. “But I hope to have a lifetime for that. Now, just one question, love.”

You were ready to nod your head away until it would fall off and roll into the corner, but you wanted to hear Sirius say the sacred four words. Most importantly, you wanted your parents to hear them, and maybe pass out at your enthusiastic agreement.

“Will you marry me?”

Your yelled out “YES!” could very likely pierce through whatever silencing charms your mother had put on the dining room. A second later the ring was already on your finger, and you were in your fiancé’s arms, spinning around in endless circles of sheer love and uninterrupted bliss. Your lips quickly found his. Your parents were furious. You didn’t care.

“Daughter?!”

Your father’s voice wasn’t a church bell anymore. It resembled a first-year getting caught up in the Whomping Willow for the first time – abnormally high, breaking and unequivocally frightened.

“Dad?” you mimicked his tone and were pretty damn good at it, if Sirius had a say. “You know what, Dad? If this is the blood running through my veins, I’m more than willing to betray it.”

Mother’s cheeks were wet from tears at last; the flood wasn’t sorrowful, not at all – it was filled with spite. Father clutched his wand, but something stopped him – maybe he was ultimately conscious of the fact that from that moment on he had no power over you. You thanked Merlin for his obsolete mentality that told him wives were their husbands’ properties – well, not yet husband’s in your case, but the premise remained. Oh, the irony! The thing that made him have a measly shred of respect for Sirius was the fact that he was about to marry you – not that he had been your choice of a partner for at least a year.

“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m taking my future Mrs. Black the fuck away from here.”

Sirius was a gentleman. He offered you his arm, chivalrously opened the door for you and proudly displayed your hand with a shiny stone on your ring finger to each and every nosy aunt willing – no, desperate to take a look. You parents had already left the dining room, but shifted along the wall to avoid the ever-inquisitive relatives. You swiftly reached the fireplace and grabbed a handful of powder each. You were so ready to finally leave the manor behind that your whole body moved by itself, without any input from your consciousness.

“And she’s having my baby!” you heard Sirius shouting just before you disappeared into the green fire of the Floo Network.

Both of you rolled out of the fireplace somewhere in the Diagon Alley, one after the other. You could finally let your guard down and burst into genuine, merry laughter; Sirius did the same, standing up and pulling you into his loving embrace.

“Love, you should’ve seen their faces!” he claimed, excitement washing over him and capturing you by association. “Bet they won’t forget us until the day they die.”

You secretly hoped they wouldn’t.

my masterlist

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders #the marauders era #the marauders imagine #the marauders fanfiction

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plinthpilled · 4 months

Note

I love love LOVE your bsf to lover stuff with sejanus it's one of my favorite tropes and with himmm?? 🫠

tysm!! here's more just for you anon <3

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

you and sejanus plinth have been best friends ever since he came to the Capitol from district 2. you were the only person who ever stood up to his relentless bullies that were your classmates and he couldn't thank you enough for that. things soon became conflicting, though. after being friends for years, you realized you really really liked him and wanted to be more than friends. you refused to say anything due to not wanting to fuck up a perfectly good friendship. this was your thought process until today.

you were walking down the elegant halls of the academy when you felt a hand grip your shoulder from behind. you turn around panicked, just to see it was sejanus. you lightly punch him in the arm in a joking way. "asshole." you giggle. "oh my god whatever will I do? my best friend just called me an asshole!" he said sarcastically while doing dramatic hand motions. you laugh at his silly antics and step closer to him, closing the distance between you two. "sej I was wondering if you wanted to hang out at the park today? I know it's like really last minute so no worries if you can't!" you say. "of course I do. what else would I be doing anyways?" he smiles. "okay! meet me there in half an hour." you tell him, reaching the exit of the building. he waves to you and you return the gesture, excited to be able to see him. you get in a car that you called and make your way home.

when you arrive, you basically run out of the car to go get changed. you debate several different options before settling on your favorite outfit. while waiting for the appropriate time to leave came, you did some thinking. you decided today was the day to confess your undying love for your best friend. it was the perfect day, truly. not too hot, not too cold and at the park no less. it seemed like the stars had aligned. a wave of nervousness washed over you, realizing that if he didn't feel the same way, you would have no one. many of your classmates refused to talk to you because you were associated with the district born boy. you didn't mind at all though, as long as you had sejanus by your side, everything was perfect. you straighten up your outfit and perfect your hair before heading out to the designated spot.

you sit at you and sej's usual spot, a specific bench that overlooks the large and majestic lake. you were lost in your thoughts when you feel a presence next to you. you turn to see sejanus's beautiful dark curls and matching eyes. "hey." you smile. "hey yourself. you look nice." he returns the gesture and you can physically feel yourself fall more in love with the boy. "you feeling alright?" he asks, worry spreading across his gorgeous features. "oh- yeah I'm fine." you say. "you're not convincing in the slightest. what's wrong?" he puts his hand over yours, his touch addicting. you take a deep breath, knowing it's now or never. "I- uh- just wanted to tell you something." you say, nervousness and anxiety soaking your words. the second you say that you can see worry plastered all over him. you knew from his now rigid stance that he was expecting the worst. "shoot. you can tell me anything." he states with the kind and charming voice you have loved since you met. you take another deep breath, preparing yourself for the absolute worst. "I know this is going to sound completely out of nowhere and I'm so sorry but I'm in love with you. I've loved you since the day we met and every time we talk or even every time I'm around you I just fall more in love and I just needed to get this weight off of my chest." you say, words coming out at lightning speed. you look down in your lap, afraid to make eye contact after admitting something like that. you hear sejanus whisper a "wow" under his breath, not in a malicious way. you finally have the courage to look up at him. he looks at you with absolute adoration. "I love you too." he finally says and you can't help the grin that spreads across your face like wildfire. the man of your dreams just said that he loved you. you were convinced you were dreaming.

sej breaks you out of your trace by putting his hand on your cheek and moving his thumb back and forth over your skin. "I always thought you were the most gorgeous person in all of panem, you know." he says softly. your smile increases tenfold as you put your forehead against his chest. you giggle into him and he does too, his body shaking slightly as he does so, his angelic voice soothing you. you take your face away from his body and kiss him on the cheek. "you missed." he said. you tilt your head slightly and cock and eyebrow. "huh?" he grabs under your chin gently and gives you a soft peck on the lips. you lean into it, feeling at ease. the interaction unfortunately ends and you look up at him and flush red. you then face away and out your head against his shoulder as he wraps his arm around yours. the two of you watch the sun set as you praise each other, neither of you ever feeling so content as in that moment.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

an: I hope you enjoyed! ik I say that every time but I really mean it. hope this lives up to your best friends to lovers sejanus idea 🙏

#the hunger games x reader #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus x reader #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth #tbosas x reader #tbosas x you #plinthpilled

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visceravalentines · 2 years

Note

I wish you would write a fic where….

Sinclair bros. gang bang tbh

Alright Nonnie, here we are. I've been wanting to write something like this for a while but the maximum number of people I've ever had sex with at the same time is one (1) so it was kind of daunting to tackle three at once (heh). It got away from me a little bit on the buildup but I hope you like it! Happy to write more like this in the future so if you want me to give it another shot, lmk.

The Sundress

Poly!Sinclairs x Hinge!AFAB!Reader

Smut, group sex, oral, voyeurism, praise kink/dirty talk, no pronouns used but reader wears a sundress, gets called "doll" and "pretty"

This morning you decided to wear a very particular sundress.

You found it at a thrift store on a solo venture into town. It was cute, had a tiny floral print and ruffles on the straps. It wasn’t completely your style, but there was just something about it. It fit your frame perfectly and at the same time, it was both scandalously short and devastatingly low-cut. You wondered if it was too much as you gave the skirt a little twirl in the dressing room mirror. There was a time when you wouldn’t dare wear something like that out of the house for fear of the attention it would attract.

Now, however, the only attention that existed in Ambrose was much more than welcome.

You went ahead and bought it. The thought of each of your boys’ reactions made you giddy and a little smug. You hung it in your closet and waited for the right day to come along to bring it out: a day when you felt especially sexy and particularly devious. A day when things had finally calmed down after a long and busy week in which you all barely saw each other and most definitely had not spent any quality time together.

That morning, you took a few extra minutes getting ready. The stars had aligned for your little plan. Your hair was gorgeous. Your skin was glowing. You looked like a snack and felt like one too. You practically pranced down the stairs despite admonishing yourself to play it cool.

Bo and Vince were at the breakfast table, enjoying a leisurely morning after the hectic week. Bo had his nose deep in a Clive Barker novel, absently sipping his coffee. Vincent was chewing on toast and sketching.

“Good morning,” you say cheerfully, pulling open the fridge and leaning forward just a little to see if there was any orange juice left.

You hear Vincent stop chewing. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you watch him hit Bo in the arm, his eye glued to you.

“What the hell d’you – oh my.” Bo’s eyebrows shoot up and he immediately places his book facedown on the table. “Well good mornin’ to you, doll.”

You flash them a sugary smile as you pour yourself the dregs of the juice. Vinny’s eye is wide as a saucer. Bo is actually licking his lips. “Did you guys sleep well?”

“Sure did,” Bo says. “What d’you have planned for today? Anything…in particular?”

You perch on the edge of the table, skirt sliding up beneath your ass just a little bit. “It’s supposed to be real hot today, so I figured I’d go through and water all the flowers one more time.”

Vincent is scribbling absently back and forth over his half-finished sketch. “Good plan,” he signs. “Need any help?”

“Nah, I think I’ll be alright. I can manage a hose, you know.”

“Yeah I bet you can,” Bo murmurs.

You smile at him. “What do you have on the list today?”

Bo talks and Vinny signs at the same time.

“Nothin’ much – ”

“Basically nothing – ”

“ – just gonna clean up around the station a little – ”

“ – probably going to do some inventory of art supplies, super boring – ”

“ – definitely gonna be, y’know, a little bit lonely….”

“ – could use some company for sure….”

A giggle almost escapes your lips. “Well, maybe I’ll catch up with you later.” You hop off the table, adjust your skirt, flounce to the doorway and then turn around. All eyes flick back up to your face. “Hey, when does Lester get back?”

“Lester?” Bo says flatly.

“Late, I think, very late,” Vincent signs.

“Oh, okay. Good to know. Bye guys.” You give them a little wave.

The morning passes with a shocking number of chance encounters. Something is broken in almost every building you visit, and Bo simply must fix it today. Similarly, Vincent informs you he needs to do a spot check of wax figures to make sure they’re holding up alright, and wouldn’t you know it, there are flowerbeds nearby every single one.

Watering flowers is hard work, and you can’t possibly be blamed for the sheen of sweat that glistens on your face and arms, nor the number of times you are required to bend over a planter box, nor the fact that you filled the watering can too full and splashed a little water on your bodice and Bo missed his aim with a hammer and smashed his thumb.

When the heat of the day rolls around in the mid-afternoon, you decide to break for lunch and head back up to the house. The twins are nowhere to be found. You are halfway up Main Street when the rattle of a familiar truck engine reaches your ears.

You turn around and beam at Lester, who is quite literally hanging out the driver’s side window. “Hey stranger!”

“Hey yourself,” he says, parking the truck in the middle of the road. “You look – well, now – that is a mighty fine dress.” He blushes.

“Thank you!” You give him a twirl.

His mouth is actually hanging open. He quickly closes it and swallows hard. “Y’know, I would…I’d offer you a ride, but…how ‘bout I just walk you home instead?”

“I would love that.”

Lester climbs out of the truck and wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans. He is remarkably clean, nothing but a few bloodstains below his knees. He offers you his arm, which you gladly take.

“Don’t you need to move the truck out of the road?”

“Nah, it’ll be fine. Nobody comes here anyway. What have you been up to?”

“Oh, just watering flowers. It’s hot today.” You toss your head, fan yourself.

“You’re damn right. Been workin’ up a sweat, huh?”

“Absolutely.”

“Geez.” He cannot take his eyes off you. “Where’re Bo and Vincent?”

“I’m not sure. They’ve been hanging around all day, but I haven’t seen them for a minute.”

“Yeah I’ll bet they have. You’re prettier than a field o’ phlox, honey.”

You squeeze his arm. “Thank you, Les.”

He stops at the edge of the yard. “Hey listen. Lemme go change outta these clothes, then why don’t you and I sneak over to that lil meadow on the east side o’ town? Do a little catchin’ up.”

“That sounds lovely.” You start towards the house.

“Ah-ah, why don’t you wait here? I’ll just be a minute.”

You frown innocently. “But Lester, it’s hot.”

“Well I’ll grab you a drink and bring it back out with me. I jus’ don’t want you gettin’ sidetracked is all.”

“Okay I guess.” You shrug your bare shoulders.

“Be right back, sweet pea.” Lester kisses your cheek, immediately turns bright red, and practically leaps up the front steps and into the house.

Today has been quite the success so far, you think as you kick at the edge of the lawn with a sneakered foot. You’ve been in Ambrose and involved with the Sinclairs for a good while now; it’s nice to know you can still fluster them when you feel like it.

You wait around for a fair few minutes before the front door opens and Vincent steps out, beckons you. “Hey angel, why don’t you come inside? I’m almost done with lunch.”

“Aw Vinny, that’s so sweet of you. But I told Lester I’d wait for him to finish changing.”

“C’mon, you know he’ll be a while. He’s got no concept of time.”

“You’re right about that. I am pretty hungry.”

You climb the stairs, step inside. Vincent shuts the door. Your eyes fall on Lester, who hasn’t even changed yet, standing next to Bo, who has his arms crossed over his chest. Vincent comes up behind you, weaves his strong arms around your waist, holds you against him. You furrow your brow in mock bewilderment. “What’s going on, guys?”

“You’ve been a regular little cocktease all day, that’s what,” Bo says.

“Me?”

“Yeah you.”

“It ain’t fair,” Lester pipes up.

“Prancin’ around all day lookin’ like that.”

You can’t help but smirk and shrug. “Sorry.”

Vincent drops his hands to your hips, pulls you a little closer. You feel a half-established erection pressing against your ass.

“Well, lucky for you, we’ve all come together and decided on a solution,” Bo announces, moving leisurely toward you. “You wanna put on a show, darlin’? We’ll let you put on a show.”

A thrill shoots through you. “Well I suppose that’s only fair.”

“More’n fair, I think,” Bo says as he squares up in front of you.

The first press of Vinny’s lips to your neck sends chills down your back. Bo takes your chin in his hand and bends to capture your mouth. You feel Vincent suck at the thin skin behind your ear, relishing the salt of your sweat.

Already your brain begins to fray with the input of so many sensations at once. You put one hand over Vincent’s, grip Bo’s shirt in the other, and have almost forgotten there are three Sinclair brothers when you feel a gentle brush of fingers on your left thigh, then your right, and then Lester’s hands are beneath your skirt and sliding your panties down. You wonder where he can possibly fit in this arrangement for only a second before you feel his tongue on your sex.

A hopeless moan escapes your throat and Bo breaks your kiss. You open your eyes and note with satisfaction that his face is flushed beneath that smug expression.

“I sure do love seein’ you flustered, darlin’.”

“Right back atcha, sugar,” you say.

Oh, but he does love a spitfire. He seizes your lip with his teeth, running his thumb over your collarbones. Vincent slips the straps off your shoulders and continues his adoration of your skin. Lester, ever the dark horse, already has you unsteady on your feet with long, slow licks. You weave your fingers through his hair and arch your back as Vinny’s deft hands slip beneath the fabric of your dress to cup your breasts.

When you cannot possibly hold yourself up any longer thanks to Les’s ministrations, they disentangle themselves for a brief, heartbreaking moment so you can weave to the couch. You ease yourself back against Bo’s chest, let him hold your wrists in place around his neck, all but trembling with anticipation as Vincent positions himself at your entrance.

“Now darlin’,” Bo murmurs in your ear, “I don’t want poor Les feelin’ all left out here. So why don’t you keep your eyes on him while Vin makes you feel real good, alright?” You nod desperately, lock eyes with Lester, who winks at you. Bo cups your jaw, thumbs your lip. “An’ I’ll be right here, makin’ sure you know what a good job you’re doin’, what pretty sounds you’re makin’. Does that sound okay, doll?”

You open your mouth to respond and Vincent, ever the opportunist, picks that moment to ease himself into you, all the way, an inch at a time. The whine this elicits from you is positively wicked and you hear Bo chuckle against your temple.

“Goddamn, baby, you’re so much fun.”

As Vincent picks up the pace, hands running over your legs, you do your best to keep your gaze fixed on Lester, whose hungry expression leaves you feeling a whole new level of naked. All the while Bo pours a steady stream of praise and filthy commentary into your ear, rutting against your backside as his twin draws a series of sinful sounds from your lips.

Eventually Vincent trades Bo and Bo trades Lester, and you have the unique and genuine pleasure of experiencing the techniques of each one of them in quick succession. Somewhere along the way you are lost in oblivion, your body electric, lavished in kisses and caresses and admiration from all sides.

When at last you are spent and so are they, Bo brings you a glass of water, Lester plants a tender kiss on your brow, and Vincent carries you up to bed.

And that sundress sits in a heap on the floor, forgotten for now, until the next time you decide to capture your lovers’ attention.

#poly sinclairs #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #house of wax fanfiction #bo sinclair fanfiction #vincent sinclair fanfiction #lester sinclair fanfiction #bo sinclair #vincent sinclair #lester sinclair #asks #anon asks

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a-boca-do-inferno · 3 months

Text

don’t think (vincent mancini x reader)

summary: (y/n) is determined to expose the truth behind the Corleone family and Vincent... well, he’s Vincent.

warnings: angst, swearing, alcohol, blood, violence, verbal abuse (sorta), crime (duh), fluff-ish

words: 5.3k

notes: it took me a ridiculous amount of time to finish this, but at last, here i am. also this is nothing but me fulfilling my own needs for him in this robe. i regret nothing

When his eyes dart over to hers, (y/n) stares right back at him, with the glimpse of a curious gleam in her own. She knew who he was, obviously; it was impossible not to these days. Standing before her, talking to three men in black suits, was the most feared man in New York, maybe even America. His family and alleged crimes weren’t exactly secrets anymore, if they ever were. However, with the FBI constantly getting more and more informants, their reign was soon to be extinguished and, consequently, completely exposed to the public once and for all.

There is a time and a place for everything. And no matter just how unpredictable you claim or even want your life to be, every now and then, the stars align to grant us what is rightfully ours. But sometimes, what is ours isn’t necessarily something we wanted in the first place. That is Vincent’s role in (y/n)’s dull excuse of a life. And that’s why, despite being actively involved in the confabulations to his demise, the girl couldn’t help but wonder what he would do then, as it seemed his sole purpose was living like a hustler, similar to every man in his family before him. Could he do anything else with himself, she wondered.

What more could become of Vincent Corleone?

Her thoughts are interrupted by his gaze shifting to hers once again. He nodded in acknowledgement and his mouth curled up slightly at the corner, causing (y/n) to hold back an amused expression. He tilted his head and his brows furrowed in interest at the broad, causing her to chuckle under her breath. (y/n) reckoned the ladies probably weren’t so keen on flirting with a mafia boss nowadays, and with that in mind, she raised her glass in a silent invitation. Because sure, he might be dangerous; but he is still pretty interesting. It would be a good story to share in the office tomorrow, if anything.

Vincent lifts his own drink in response, his stare lingering on her whiskey-wet lips, and (y/n) snorts softly. He approaches her table, and she points with her chin, her demeanour screaming of amusement—and perhaps some entitlement—, “don Corleone, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

He flashes a charming smile and hums, with a sultry tone, “I have heard a lot about you, (y/n).”

“Let’s keep it professional for now”, the girl keeps grinning, motioning for him to take a seat. She watches as he moves to the chair, holding eye contact all the time. His suit is perfectly ironed, his dark hair is neatly brushed back, and there is that damn sparkle in his chestnut orbs. It feels as if he could devour her whole by that look alone, and a faint shiver goes up her spine at the thought. “It’s miss (y/n) for you.”

Vincent clears his throat, still sustaining a smirk. “I see. Miss (y/n), it’s a pleasure. Now, what would a fine woman like yourself be doing alone at this bar? Surely you have scores of men ready to buy you drinks and offer their jackets?”

“Is this an offer?”, she glances at him playfully, sipping her whiskey. “Because while I surely love to hold men hostage over my looks to get a few drinks for free, I’m afraid it’s my night off.” (y/n)’s unblinking look remains on his figure, albeit her face stays friendly.

“And I’m usually not one to buy women drinks. Makes me look needy, you know? But I just had to ask.” Corleone offers her a genuine smile, the hint of a blush running across his cheeks. “You really are incredibly beautiful.”

“Don’t worry about looking needy, anything you do won’t change that.” She laughs quietly, leaning back in her chair. “And I’ll gladly take you on that offer, my friend. Whiskey. Dirty.”

He laughs and snaps his fingers at the bartender. “You got it, miss.” The waiter pours her drink and slides it over to her. Vincent orders himself a whiskey as well, peering into the brownish liquid as he motions for a toast. “To meeting you.”

“Salute.” She smiles cheekily, gulping her shot at one go. “So, tell me about yourself, Mr. Corleone. How’s the FBI treating ya? I heard you’re having some occasional encounters with them”, she says, perhaps encouraged by the alcohol, but she’s not really concerned he’d do anything to her for asking a few questions, let alone at a public space. Vincent looked like a gentleman first, ruthless criminal second. At least that was her impression at first glance.

“Things with the feds are... interesting”, he beams, taking another sip and then leaning on his hand, looking into her eyes as he speaks; his voice smooth, low, and warm. He’s playing his game, she is very aware, and (y/n) can admit to herself it’s working a little. Only a little. “You know, miss (y/n), when I ask myself what makes the FBI tick, the only thing I can figure out is money”, he wiggles his brows, as if to reaffirm his point. “Money buys loyalty, money buys power. And that’s why the feds are so powerful. It’s not the guns, it’s not the suits; it’s the money.”

“That’s a unique way of looking at it.” She rounds her glass with her index slowly, studying its emptiness. “I guess you could say the same thing about the mafia or are you not self-aware enough for that?”, she waits for his reaction. The broad can’t help but want to push his buttons, see how far she can go with him, no matter how unwise that might be. Powerful men just make her giddy and curious, like a child with a cat.

Corleone chuckles softly, not minding her provocativeness. “Maybe I’m not. I’m a man of many faults, my hypocrisy is one of them.” When he speaks again, his voice is huskier. “You’re perceptive. I can tell you’re smart.”

“Too smart for my own good.” (y/n) snorts, trying to hide her shudder. She then waves a dismissive hand, gesturing around the tables, “these people here, they’re living better than me. Ignorance is bliss in this world.”

Vincent laughs heartily and makes another toast. “It’s the biggest flaw of humanity, in my opinion. No one wants to think about how the world works, because thinking is hard. It’s easier to just go through life without asking questions”, he pauses, scanning her discreetly with his strong eyes. “Unfortunately, it’s the people who question things that make change in this world. People like you, princess.”

“So I assume you make a lot of effort not to stay ignorant?”, she raises her brows, crossing her arms slowly, and her cleavage flashes out to him unconsciously. “Because you don’t look like it. How could the worst man in this town be so clueless? I don’t see it.” (y/n) shakes her head a bit, letting a faint smile appear on her cherry lips.

“Now, why would I wanna be clueless, miss (y/n)?”, his eyes flicker towards her breasts for a moment before returning to her face, with a puzzled look.

“Why wouldn’t you?”, her gaze becomes more intense, and her smile fades gradually, making way for an inquiring expression. “Is there anything better than simply not worrying?”

He scowls, meeting her stare just as intently. “Ignorance is a disease, sweet cheeks. And I’m not a diseased man. I prefer to see things as they are rather than how I wish they were. If I see a problem, I fix it. That’s how I live my life and I’m not gonna change anytime soon.”

“That’s funny.” (y/n) stays where she is, unaffected by his closeness. Her eyes fall on his mouth for a second, then go back up. “You’re not a diseased man, but where you go, death follows”, she’s quiet, but the edge is there; unrelenting, waiting for him to crack. “Why’s that?”

Vincent, on the other hand, doesn’t appear at all fazed. Rather, he seems to be enjoying their banter as he takes another sip from his drink. “My family came to this country with nothing, we built our empire from scratch. People respect the power that my family now commands. And I’m not ashamed to admit that I’ve killed people to maintain that power. Death is just a by-product of doing what’s necessary to keep the family safe”, he considers smoothly, casually, as if speaking of a banal transaction. This realisation makes her uneasy.

“You are crazy”, (y/n) says half-heartedly, reclining in her seat and tapping her fingers on the wooden table lightly to hide her edginess.

“Maybe”, he snickers, his frown slowly dropping. “Like I said, I’m a man of faults. My biggest one is my loyalty to my family sometimes, as that doesn’t always make me do what you might deem as the ‘right thing’. Sometimes, I gotta do the necessary thing.”

She smirks and nods. “Be that as it may, I hope the FBI does their job. People keep dying because of you, good people. And you don’t get to decide if they should live or not”, her voice is still gentle, albeit her words are piercing now.

Despite looking somewhat offended, Vincent maintains his cool, finishing up his whiskey. “Death is a part of life, sweetheart, we can’t all live happy and free. Sometimes the world needs men to do dark things, to keep their families safe. That’s just the way it works.” He leans back and glances into his half filled glass.

“You sound like Michael Corleone.” (y/n) muses, studying his demeanour with a close eye. She thinks back to the days she had to interview his uncle. Back then, he came across as a broken man and she almost felt sorry for him, were it not for her knowledge of all his crimes, including his own brother’s murder. It appeared as though the Corleones were destined to go down that route and deep inside of her, she caught herself wishing for Vincent to somehow find a way out. God only knows why. “And that’s a shame. You could’ve been your own person.”

If Vincent is bothered by her subtle jabs at this point, he doesn’t let it show. “We think alike on a few things because we’re family, I suppose.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night, beautiful”, she cackles, gazing around the bar. It was empty except for the two of them, and she sighed. Time went by pretty quickly.

“And what makes you sleep at night, miss (y/n)?”, he opens a sour, nearly venomous beam, in spite of the unchanging silkiness in his tone. “You keep throwing polite insults at me, so surely it’s no surprise that I’m curious about the state of your holy conscience.”

“I apologise if I was too honest, it’s the whiskey.” She shrugs, looking a bit tipsy indeed. “But I don’t take back what I said, not one goddamn word. I hope they catch you. You’re a bad, bad man.”

The girl rests her chin on her hand to watch him smugly, also taking the moment to admire his features. He is quite handsome, undeniably, notwithstanding all the atrocious things he’s rumoured to be doing, and the damn drinks don’t help her think rationally either. While her words say one thing, her body tells him another.

And Vincent, to his own credit, catches her flirty body language, raising his now empty glass again with a sly grin. “To bad men then, my dear.”

(y/n) can’t help but blush, rolling her eyes and getting up from her chair. “It was... partially a pleasure, Mr. Corleone.” She bows jocosely, stumbling as she takes a step backwards.

That was an exchange that should’ve never happened, and (y/n) wishes she knew that sooner. Going back home that night, she reckoned her boss would probably have her head on a plate if he caught wind of her little interaction with Vincent Corleone, since she didn’t actually get any juicy information about the Bronx killings. But, in her humble defence, he wouldn’t have given her anything anyway. Doesn’t matter how into her he looked, Vincent wasn’t one to be easily fooled by curves to the point of revealing his connections in the underworld, apart from being a very responsible drinker; at least in her company.

With a sigh, she threw herself on the bed and turned off the lights, letting sleep take over. The next day, of course she woke up with a headache. Sometimes she regretted not actually enjoying her college days, as it would probably have helped build some alcohol resistance today. The broad whined quietly before getting up and shuffling her kitchen cabinets for some aspirins. As she searched for the pills, her telephone started ringing. She winced at the loud noise, picking up.

“Hello?”, she mutters sleepily, and her boss speaks rushed in the line. “Mick, I have a headache.” She sighs and he slows down, but still sounds very anxious, and (y/n) widens her eyes when he’s finished. “I’m going right now!”

(y/n) changes in the blink of an eye and storms out of her apartment, leaving the door open. There had just been a killing at the exact same sight as the last one, but this time, they found prints. Corleone associates’ prints. Arriving at the scene, she pulled out her notepad and her pen, walking to the few officers without hesitance. They tried to tell her off until she convinced them to give her but a small clue. It appeared to be a reckoning of some kind, and they were getting sloppy, as the prints were found and catalogued only a few hours after the crime.

Now, who in their right mind would’ve been so stupid as to make a mistake like this, when the FBI was already so far up their ass? It almost felt icky to her, and it stunk of snitching into the mafia, not just arrested associates trying to reduce their sentence. The thought bothered her for some reason, because weren’t these people all about loyalty? (y/n) took a few more notes before turning around and walking to the street to get a cab. Her eyes were still on the notepad when a strong, tall body bumped into hers.

She gulps, in a mix of surprise and fear. “Mr. Corleone.”

Vincent’s eyes are sharp and intense as ever, and he examines over the area until his gaze goes back to her, with a menacingly intrigued look. He puts his hands in his pockets, sounding polite, yet not as much as the last time. “Seems you and I had the same destination today, miss (y/n). I trust this wasn’t a coincidence?”

“Surely.” She smiles, trying to walk past him, but he doesn’t let her, hardening his jaw. The girl glares at the man, despite shaking like a leaf. “Excuse me?”

Vincent scoffs, clearly impatient. “You followed me here, didn’t you?”, he doesn’t move, but his look is as serious as hers. “Spit it out now and maybe I’ll have mercy.”

(y/n) lets out a fake laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a call from my boss”, she grits her teeth, still forcing a grin. “And you people are getting sloppy, you know? Not even a day until they found prints?” She chuckles, raising a brow, “Michael would never make a mistake like that in his day.”

Vincent stares at her, his mouth going from a thin line to an upside-down smile. His voice has lost its earlier friendliness, and he takes a step towards the woman, a look of anger on his face, “why are you following me?”

“I follow the story, not the characters.” She pats his chest, nodding once. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I got work to do.”

(y/n) tries to leave again, and he grabs her arm firmly. “You don’t think you’re part of this story, (y/n)?”, his tone is low and almost threatening now. “Last chance. Don’t lie to me, sweetheart. Who sent you?”

The girl tries to shrug him off, but it’s to no use. “Let go or I’ll have you arrested right here.” She glances over at the cops standing at a distance from them.

“Those coppers would get down on their knees if I told them to, so cut the bullshit”, Vincent pulls (y/n) closer to him, his dark orbs burning. “You wanna try me, baby? I’ll make you scream”, he beams cheekily, yet it’s empty. He lets go harshly and steps back, putting his hands back in his pockets as if nothing happened. “We’re just talking here, right?”

“You don’t scare me”, she speaks with conviction, adjusting her coat, even though her voice trembles ever so slightly. “And your threats better stop right here. You might be a powerful man, but you’re not invincible. Everyone’s got a weakness.”

“You know what, (y/n)? I have a lot of respect for your courage as a female reporter, trying to cover this story”, Vincent grins and takes a step back. “It’s a shame I can’t trust you.”

“I’m flattered that a despicable criminal like you doesn’t trust me, as it speaks volumes about my character”, she fakes another smile, taking a step to leave. “Have a good day, Mr. Corleone.”

“That’s the nicest compliment I’ve heard this week!”, Vincent laughs out loud, not stopping her this time. He stays where he is, raising his voice so she can hear him from a distance. “You have a great day, sweet cheeks!”

A week later, (y/n)’s working late hours every day on her investigation into the Corleone shenanigans. Her eyes are red and tired, but she perseveres. This story could make her entire career and clean New York’s streets from the biggest mafia family in town. Nothing sounded better. She had begun taking precautions, obviously, like changing her locks and exclusively moving around in cabs. She did her best not to be alone at any given time, which sucked for her. Alone had always been her only moment of something resembling peace.

Her last encounter with Vincent left (y/n) feeling anxious, unsurprisingly, yet it fuelled her to find out more about the killing sprees inside the mafia. Her intuition rarely failed her and something in her gut said someone was trying to take out his own boss and perhaps covering his tracks. The dates were too close, and the second time was sloppier than before. Whoever he was, the guy was getting desperate. And with no proof, no sources and unsurprisingly no acquaintance with the Corleones, it was like walking into a dark room with a blindfold.

A sigh escaped her lips as she stared at the newspaper from last month, where the Bronx victims made it to the front page. Her chest tightened as her mind turned one of their faces into Vincent’s, his skull completely destroyed by a bullet. For some reason, the thought of his death bothered her to no end. Yes, he was a criminal, but he should pay for his crimes as the law states: in federal confinement. She was extremely against the death penalty, after all. But not only that, the girl still saw something in him she shouldn’t: a man. Not a monster, not the face of a bloody organisation, not his family’s last name. Just a man.

As she’s gathering her things to leave, her boss calls her. (y/n) picks up while walking towards the elevator, pressing the first floor. “What’s up?”

“You’re gonna interview Vincent Corleone in a few days”, Mick’s voice is calm and casual, as if he just told her news about a football game.

(y/n) stops in her tracks, standing motionless before the elevator doors. “I’m gonna what?!”, she exclaims, not really knowing what else to say. She couldn’t talk much about that subject, not to her boss. If he found out she’d been conducting an investigation on a mafia family by herself, and that the Don himself knew about it already, she would be out of a job in no time.

“Look, my dear, Leslie’s in Paris right now, she’s not gonna make it in time and you’re the only one who’s not gonna throw up in front of the guy”, he keeps talking like it’s the normalest thing in the world, to do a piece on a known and widely feared mafia boss like Vincent, and she has to scoff quietly. This has to be a joke. “This is big, we’re gonna get you the cover.”

“Mick, you have got to have lost your mind”, her voice sounds a little shaky as she walks into the elevator, finally getting to the ground floor. She holds the phone tightly against her ear as she strolls towards the street and calls for a taxi.

“Don’t you know him already, anyways?”, Mick asks, and a keyboard being pressed can be heard in the background of his speech. “It’s even better, he’ll open up to you.”

The girl wants to roll her eyes, but keeps listening. Suddenly she stops for a moment, getting an insight. Conceding an interview to a newspaper right after yet another public scandal? This doesn’t sound smart. Vincent’s either too desperate to think straight or he has an angle. She just can’t see it right now, but maybe asking him a few questions might help her with finding the traitor... The only problem was facing him after the polite offences—as he had called it—she offered him, intoxicated and now sober.

(y/n) gets into the cab and whispers her address to the driver, turning to look at the window as she sighs. “If you count me insulting him for two hours straight while shamelessly flirting with too much alcohol in my system as ‘knowing’, then yes.”

“You left that part out, huh?”, he says sarcastically, but appearing a little worried now.

“Look, you gotta find someone else”, the car stops in front of her building and she pays the nice man, giving him a wave as he drives off. (y/n) walks up to her apartment as she searches for her keys. “I really can’t do it. This guy… he’s a creep. I would feel uncomfortable”, she lies mercilessly, not caring that the statement sounds contradictory to her earlier confession of their encounter in the bar.

“The interview will be in his house next week.”

Mick hangs up and (y/n) looks at her phone with a stunned expression. She takes a deep breath, entering her home and slamming the door. Great. Now she just has to figure out a way of getting out of the Corleone mansion alive.

♡♡♡

“How’s the weather up there from that high horse of yours, doll?”, Vincent’s familiar tone comes from behind her and (y/n) turns to face him with a plastic smile, her legs trembly like two sticks in the wind. His smirk is almost disgusting, as he walks to her side and leans on the balcony slightly, giving her a look over his shoulder. “Sunny like you, I’d wager.”

Somehow, the girl managed not to go crazy throughout that stressful week. After a few more arguments with her boss, she gave into doing the damn interview—or rather, her need to have a job surpassed her fear of ever coming close to Vincent Corleone again. Sure, she did her part of exposing some of his dirty deeds to the public, but from behind a computer screen, everything is much easier and safer. Although, safety in that case would always be but a false reading of the cruel reality. Many of her colleagues had paid the price before her for wanting to tell on the mafia’s crimes, and that’s mainly why she persisted. At the end of the day, her life was a small sacrifice for the ultimate goal. Sooner or later, a journalist has to come to terms with that.

The car ride to the Corleone mansion was surprisingly calm, yet inevitably tense. She was taken there by their own private chauffeur. He wasn’t very talkative, but she figured he wasn’t paid to chitty chat with some terrified journalist in his backseat. Going through her notepad, she reviewed all her questions for the billionth time. Not that she had any hopes of getting any answered by Vincent, as she knew too well he had a mesmerising ability to make the conversation flow in the direction he wanted it to—by force or otherwise.

When (y/n) arrived in his house, some twenty minutes ago, she was readily greeted by Vincent himself wearing nothing but a silky red robe, which barely covered his slim yet athletic body, dark hair dishevelled like he had just woken up. A striking difference from the neat smokings he bore in public, and one that made her cheeks blush ghostly. Oh, it wasn’t that early, by the way. It was past noon and her stomach turned at that image of him even though she made a point of not eating anything before; that way, it would be harder for her to throw up eventually.

Here’s the funny thing about gangsters: they’re not usually the most well-mannered chaps and Vincent, of all people, wasn’t gonna be the exception. His charm was only extended to his good looks and often annoying boldness, which was duly noted again by his complete disregard to present proper in her presence while in his own home. From that very moment she knew that afternoon was going to be a complete disaster, starting with the raunchy outfit and the way her eyes couldn’t help but wander to his chest hair—and in her defence, his in specific would certainly be a sight to behold on anyone. Or perhaps that’s what she kept telling herself as he babbled about the architecture of the mansion, even though she had asked a question about his childhood before all of…

This.

“Let’s cut the bullshit, Vincent”, (y/n) blurts out, cutting him off when he was in the middle of describing the texture of the walls surrounding the garden. His brows lift in amusement at her words, and he holds his chin up, daring her to keep defying him. To hell with this. She could be trembling like a chicken, but that man was really getting on her nerves. “Just answer the question, or you can say no and I’ll move on to the next.” Her tone is firm, and she sustains his gaze, unblinking. “How did you start in this life?”

And like that night in the bar, Vincent’s demeanour goes from playful to mildly annoyed. He stands up straight, towering over her. “Look, sweetheart, your little investigation ain’t gonna get you far in life”, his voice is deep and nothing like the sensual one he usually uses with her. Stepping even closer, he adds, “word of advice? Just go home. This ain’t your problem, so don’t try to make it your problem.”

(y/n) scowls. “If I wanted a safe job, I wouldn’t have become a journalist.”

“I don’t fucking care”, he takes her arm, looking down at her enraged. She flinches at the pain, trying to shrug him off unsuccessfully. “You’re gonna get yourself killed and I don’t have time to babysit you, so get the hell out now while you can.” So they are trying to kill him. Point to her gut.

His hot breath hits her face like knives cutting through her skin, yet she doesn’t back down. With watery eyes, she keeps her head held high to challenge him, her ragged breathing touching his chin in the same burning heat. For a split second, she can swear he’ll grab her by the hair and take all his anger out once and for all, God knows how, but a loud noise comes from the living room and they both turn to find two masked figures pointing guns at them. Before she can even process what’s going on, Vincent drags her to the side and shots are fired in their direction, breaking the glass of the door to the balcony. She screams in horror and covers her ears.

“Fuck”, Vincent grunts as he keeps her body shielded with his, trying to peek inside the house to see if they went out of bullets. It appears so.

He swiftly stands back up and takes out a pistol out of nowhere, shooting the men in the head. They fall dead on the ground and (y/n) is in shock, but somehow grateful he did that. Blood splattered on the stupidly fancy walls and wooden floor, running toward the balcony where she was sitting in a foetal position in the corner. Watching the thick redness touch her feet, a jarring realisation came to her mind: Vincent Corleone just saved her life. Him, the very man she feared would truly hurt her only seconds ago. The man she saw behind the monster.

He crouches down again, pulling her into his arms, and her entire body is boiling hot. His hand strokes her hair delicately and the sensation soothes her nerves, causing her to cling to him pathetically. (y/n) grips his robe tightly, taking deep breaths to calm herself and maybe try and get back to her senses. But it’s useless when their eyes meet and he grabs her by the back of her neck, savouring her mouth without so much as asking for permission. Typical Vincent.

A soft, humble whimper leaves her lips, and it’s still not enough for her to try and pull away. The kiss is messy and sloppy and her legs begin to shake again. Her fingers reach his hair and pull his strands a bit, causing him to moan against her mouth. She feels a wetness brushing against her abdomen and when she opens her eyes again, they widen in worry. He’s bleeding.

“It’s just a graze, sweetheart”, he chuckles under his breath, smirking while she still looks concerned, sliding down his robe slowly to take a look at his wound. “Don’t hold your panties in a bunch.” (y/n) wants to roll her eyes, but she’s more focused on studying the bruise on his tanned skin. Vincent holds her chin between his fingertips and pecks her lips gently, nothing like the urgent kiss from before. She sighs and tilts her head a bit, unable to formulate any words yet. This was a turn of events she wasn’t expecting. He senses her hesitancy and glances at her, his eyes gleaming with such intensity that she was left breathless again. “Don’t think.”

(y/n)’s lips curl up in the corner of her mouth, and he helps her up and away from the bodies in silence. Her hand holds his involuntarily, maybe in a childish attempt at finding comfort in this new situation in which she knows, deep inside, she’s not alone. Not after today. When their gaze meets one more time, all she sees is the chestnut irises that made her stomach stir with butterflies that night in the bar with too much alcohol in her veins, except she’s never been more sober in her life. And it’s clear as day. There’s nothing but him and his annoyingly handsome crooked smile. She gives his palm a faint, yet so telling squeeze. This is what Vincent Corleone could become.

Hers.

#the godfather #the godfather imagine #vincent mancini x reader #vincent mancini #the godfather part iii #andy garcia #vincent corleone #vincent corleone x reader #the godfather x reader

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justabigassnerd · 2 years

Text

Surprise date

Pairing - TASM!Peter Parker x reader

Word count - 1,908

Warnings - fluff (that's literally it)

Summary - Peter decides to take you out on a surprise date

A/N - I return once more with a fic for my beloved Spidey boy I got the inspiration for this fic from the chosen gif so that's fun :). I hope this turned out okay. As per y'all, please send in requests, feedback and enjoy!

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You and Peter hadn’t had a date night in a while. Your schedules always clashed and when it came to evenings you were both too exhausted to even think about going out on a date. That and Peter always patrolled in the evenings and wouldn’t crawl back in your bedroom window until stupid o’clock. You had pretty much accepted that you and Peter wouldn’t have dates unless by some miracle the stars aligned and your schedules lined up perfectly and Peter skipped out on a patrol, although you doubted that would ever happen.

Peter, however, had a plan. He managed to find an evening both you and him would finish work earlier than usual and planned a date on that evening. He figured he could skip his normal patrol that evening and let the police deal with any crime that could happen. Once his plan was in place, he made sure to keep it a secret from you, he wanted to surprise you on the day.

“I’m home sweetheart!” Peter calls through your flat after dropping his bag under the coat rack as he always did. It took you less than a minute to emerge from the living room and wrap your arms around his middle. You were still in your work clothes, evidence you hadn’t been home long.

“Hey, Pete.” You murmur happily into his shoulder as he wraps his arms around you to reciprocate the hug.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.” Peter says with a grin as you pull away from the hug, looking up at him curiously.

“What?” You ask, tilting your head to the side, your eyes searching his for an answer.

“I think you missed the key word here, love. It’s a surprise.” Peter teases as you groan, throwing your head back dramatically, making Peter laugh loudly.

“Alright, here’s the plan. Let’s get out of our work stuff and get into some nice clothes and then I’ll take you to your surprise.” Peter says, taking your hand and leading you to the bedroom. Since it was a warm late summer afternoon, Peter opted for a t-shirt and jeans, grabbing a light jacket, and throwing it on as you emerge from the bathroom in a light summer dress, making a smile cross Peter’s face.

“You look beautiful. How did I get so lucky?” Peter questions, crossing to you and resting his hands on your hips, bringing you ever so slightly closer.

“That’s the question of the ages Pete.” You tease before pressing a kiss to his cheek and removing yourself from his grip.

“So where are we going? And are we swinging because I really don’t feel like being swung all over New York.” You ask, crossing to the bedroom door and glancing over your shoulder at your boyfriend.

“I’m still not telling you where we’re going. But no we’re not swinging. Spider-Man isn’t invited tonight.” Peter states, following you out the door and stopping you with a grab of the hand. You turn to look at Peter confused and instead of giving you a vocal answer he crosses to the coat rack and pulls his winter scarf off and holds it up.

“Do you trust me?” He asks, making his way back over to you.

“That depends on what you’re about to do.” You laugh, watching Peter with a raised eyebrow as he sighs jokingly.

“I’m taking you to your surprise. I don’t need you seeing your surprise early so I need to blindfold you and take you there so I can sort everything out.” Peter emphasises, waving the scarf in his hand to exaggerate his point.

“Okay fine, but you better not let me trip or anything.” You groan, reluctantly turning around and letting Peter tie the scarf around your eyes. When you were blindfolded, Peter instructed you to stay put while he grabbed the picnic basket he’d already begun to put together. He had already filled it with food that didn’t need to be in the fridge as well as a blanket and once he had picked it up, he moved back into the kitchen and grabbed the fruit and drinks he’d strategically hidden behind everything else in the fridge and quietly transfer them to the basket before returning to where you were stood, linking your arm with his free one. He carefully led you to the lift and got you in before following behind and pressing the button to take the lift to the bottom floor.

“So far so good baby.” Peter praises with a smile as you scoff.

“We haven’t even left the building, Pete. Tell me this when we’re on the street filled with grumpy New Yorkers.” You joke, making Peter hum in approval as the lift doors open, leading you out of the building and onto the streets of New York.

Peter was brilliant at guiding you along, keeping you out of the way of passers-by and making sure you stuck to his side like glue. It didn’t take long for him to lead you to the park. When Peter found the right spot, he told you to stay put once more and placed the basket by a silver maple tree. He got the blanket out from the basket and laid it out just in front of the tree trunk before approaching you and moving behind you.

“Okay, ready?” His breath tickles your ear as he talks and you nod eagerly, feeling Peter begin to loosen the scarf and move it away from your eyes, allowing you to see where you were and what he’d done. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped when you realised where you were. This park was somewhere special to you as it was the park the two of you had visited and walked through together when you first started dating and hadn’t had a chance to revisit it in a while. Once you got your bearings you then noticed the blanket and picnic basket as Peter walked over to it, sitting on the blanket, and opening the basket, pulling food out with a smile. It was a simple gesture, but it meant everything to you. You and Peter never needed to spend copious amounts of money on gifts or nights out to prove your love for each other. To you, the simplest of gestures held the most weight in your heart.

“Oh Peter, this is beautiful.” You begin, moving over to the blanket and sitting on it, crossing your legs as Peter hands you a sandwich. You dig into the food happily, savouring each mouthful and admiring the view of the sunset you had.

“Hey, open wide.” You turn to look at Peter who is holding a grape in his hand with a raised eyebrow and once you catch on to what he’s hinting at you shuffle back and open your mouth as he tosses the grape. You manage to catch the grape in your mouth perfectly and hold your arms up in triumph, chewing on the grape as Peter claps.

“Alright, your turn.” You say excitedly, grabbing a stalk and removing one grape before returning the small bunch to the container. You hold the fruit in your thumb and index finger as Peter opens his mouth and leans back slightly, supporting himself with his hands. You toss the grape upwards and Peter had to move slightly to the left to catch it, but it still landed successfully in his mouth, and you clapped as he sat up once more. After finishing off most of the food and drink that was packed in the picnic basket, Peter then shuffled back until his back met the tree trunk and he spread his legs and held his arms open, gesturing for you to sit in between his legs which you happily do so. You lean back into his chest and smile as Peter winds his arms around your front. The sun was beginning to disappear over the horizon, and you watched it, enamoured with the beautiful colours that began to paint the sky above. Peter rested his chin on your shoulder gently and watched the sky with you, occasionally turning to press kisses to your cheek and neck. The park was quiet, occasionally people would walk past, and the odd old couple would quietly point to the two of you and whisper about ‘young love’ which Peter relayed to you directly into your ear whenever he heard the hushed whispers. As the sun got replaced by the moon and bright city lights, you and Peter heard the familiar wailing of a siren and against his wishes, his body subconsciously tensed up upon hearing the sirens. You attempted to wiggle out of his hold when you felt him tense up, knowing he’ll be jumping up to go and help out as soon as he could. To your shock, he tightened his grip and pulled you back into his chest again.

“Aren’t you going to help out?” You ask, turning yourself slightly to look at him.

“Nope. Like I said, Spider-Man isn’t invited to this date and the police can survive one night without him.” Peter insists, snuggling his face back into your shoulder as you laugh at the sensation of his hair tickling your neck.

“A date, Parker?” You question jokingly, looking at him as he sits upright a bit, his face heating up at your words.

“Well, I just figured we hadn’t had a date night in a while and-” You cut Peter off with a soft, gentle kiss on the lips, cupping his face in your hands as you turn around to face him fully.

“Baby, this was the perfect surprise date after so long of us not being able to do anything like this. I’m just teasing you.” You assure when you pull away from the kiss, dropping your hands from his face and smiling as Peter leans forward and rests his forehead against yours.

“I’m glad you liked the surprise. It was hard to not tell you about this.” Peter replies, rubbing his nose against yours lightly, both of you grinning like crazy.

“You’re amazing.” You whisper, your lips ghosting over his.

“Well, I am the Amazing Spider-Man.” He boasts quietly, making you roll your eyes.

“I’m not on about him. I’m talking about my Peter Parker.” You say, lifting a hand and running it through his hair.

“Your Peter Parker, huh?” He whispers with a grin, a hint of teasing in his tone.

“Unless you have someone else on the side.” You reply jokingly, pulling away slightly as he shakes his head adamantly.

“I’d never dream of having anyone else, but you love. Now get back here and give me another kiss please.” Peter says, this time it was him taking your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as you shuffle closer once more, connecting your lips once you’re close enough. You never wanted any kiss you shared with Peter to end but you were always forced to pull away when the need for air became too much.

“Wanna go for a walk around the park?” You ask, glancing around the near-empty park and Peter eagerly nods in response, letting you stand up first before following suit, packing everything up and putting it back in the picnic basket before picking it up and offering you his free hand which you take without hesitation.

“Let’s finish the rest of our date, shall we?”

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sonadowlesbian · 1 year

Text

small cringe sonadow brainrot fic under the cut; please do not critique, i got possessed while writing this.

it’s nighttime; shadow is seen at atop a building, sitting on the ledge of it, staring at the moon. he seems to be lost in thought.

in the same moment, sonic just so happens to be running on buildings in the same town. he stops in his tracks as he sees an old friend; the dark, brooding hedgehog’s ear twitches at the sound of rubber squeaking behind him. he looks at the blue hedgehog, wincing a little, and looks down at his own feet; he appears troubled.

“hey, faker! what are the chances we’d meet in the same town! this kind of thing never happens!”

shadow playfully scoffs at sonic’s sarcastic remark, but his smile quickly drops to its usual position. sonic mirrors this expression, questioned and concerned at whatever’s going on in that guy’s head, like usual. he can’t quite explain how, but sonic can sense shadow’s motionless invitation to sit with him; he slowly walks toward him.

“uh.. hey bud? is there anything you need to talk about?”

sonic stands to the left of shadow, who’s not making a peep; he sits down and stares at the moon, mirroring shadow.

the moon is taking up the sky, outshining all the stars. it glows a cold, but comfortable feeling. the night sky is sonic’s favorite part of his adventures; it looks the same to him no matter where he goes. the familiar presence reminds him that he’s never far from anyone.

“you see that dot? right next to the moon?”

sonic jumps at the sound of shadow’s voice first leaving his mouth, shadow’s face is the same, but somehow softer,

“that’s the ark. cycle is very similar to the moon’s. sometimes they aligned perfectly, if you’re there at the right time and place”

sonic smirks,

“heh—yeah, i’ve seen it, myself! hey, uh.. not that i mind, but why so chatty?”

shadow flushes a bit, just fully realizing who exactly he’s talking to,

“i just—…”

shadow doesn’t know how to respond. sonic scoots in a little closer,

“dude. i don’t even feel empathy and even i can sense something’s up. chat up.”

shadow sighs, it’s hard to tell if it’s of relief or annoyance; maybe both,

“do you remember how when we met there was a big focus on our… resemblance? like how we looked compared to each other?”

shadow takes a good look at sonic,

“do you… still see it?”

sonic hesitates; he realizes what he means. they really… don’t look all that similar. the shape of their quills, face, everything… did they ever bare a resemblance in the first place? sure, there’s some things that could be understandable to mistake from an outside perspective, but overall… they’re their own hedgehogs with their own lives,

“not really. i don’t think i ever truly have.”

sonic and shadow are very similar in their own ways; preferring aloneness, their speed, hunger for achievement; they’re like-minded. they’re the only ones who truly get each other; they know exactly what do to to creep in the other’s heart’s, they’re basically are star-crossed in that way. they both realize this. in whatever life they were supposed to live, they were meant to meet.

“me neither.”

refusing to make any eye contact with sonic, shadow’s smiles returns at the thought of how ridiculous the whole thing is. for the longest time he felt as if he needed to top sonic’s strengths and abilities when there’s no reason to, to begin with. this whole time he could’ve had a friend with similar attributes, but instead concocted his own delusion of a combative rivalry. is it too late to… start over? would that be wrong? his grin drops a bit,

“i— …i’m sorry.”

sonic returns the statement with a look of confusion; he smirks,

“for…?”

shadow’s face roses up,

“ugh! i don’t know!! for… fighting you all the time???”

sonic blankly stares for a second, but quickly gets sent into a laughing fit,

“HAHA! HUH? what’re you on?? i have fun fighting you!”

“WELL—“ shadow sighs “i dunno— how you uh— interpret my attitude while it occurs..?”

sonic softens just a little bit

“well, you seem to have fun, don’t cha?”

shadow gives sonic a genuine smile and quickly looks away,

“well…. i more meant—! you know how there times where i—? ugh idk i feel like i could be.. rough sometimes?”

“heh. i think it’s kinda fun getting you like that….”

shadow squeeks at the statement; he wasn’t expecting it. he knew sonic liked teasing him, but never expected him to admit it like that,

“you— ughh..”

as shadow puts his head in his paws, sonic, delayed, realizes what he just said; he panics,

“I DIDNT—!! WHAT I MEANT WAS—!!! I MEAN THAT I LIKE—!! UHHM!!”

a loud silence fills the air; the two pathetic and overly dramatic hogs readjust their composure. this whole time the two have been friends, having fun, sharing experiences, and they never even noticed it. everything they been through put them where they are today.

shadow scoots closer to sonic, and looks at him,

“i think we should bump into each other more often.”

sonic’s heart skips a beat,

“heh, our regular, unexpected appearances’re not enough for ya?”

shadow smiles; for once in his life, for whatever reason, he feels… safe. what he was missing was there right along, a connection. shadow bumps his head into sonic’s, resting himself,

“i guess not…”

sonic’s face turns bright red. for whatever reason, he, too, feels as if whatever was missing from him clicked into his brain. for the first time, sonic didn’t get drained by a presence; it was as if there were no one there at all, but he didn’t feel lonely. he loosens himself for the first time in a long time.

OKAY NO MORE CRINGE FAIL MOMENT I CANT WRITE BUT I HAVE SO MCUH BRAINROT

#sonadow #this is qp but can be interpreted in whatever way #brainrot #fictive stuff #ramble #ficlet #don’t read unless ur a gay people #text #long post

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slashingdisneypasta · 9 months

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I just got this idea for dad Psycho, and I need your input on it.

Some animals have been reported to just know when a baby is theirs. Even in animals that are not monogamous. What if Psycho had this instinct too? Like, for whatever reason, somehow, he had a kid without even realizing it. Do you think he'd still be able to just know that that was his kid if he ever ran into them? Idk I think it's a cute thought personally. Like he finds this child while out at... Idk the store? Just out and about? And then he gets this random instinct that he has to be around the kid for whatever reason.

(Was it a past relationship ended before either party realized what happened?? Did the stars of the universe align a very specific way to cause Psycho to have a one-night stand??? Idk what happened in this rhetorical scenario, but I think it's safe to say he won't hear the end of it from Greasy if it was the latter 💀)

Or maybe this could be used in a mlte regular, happy family scenario? Like maybe the kid and S/O will never have to worry about them getting lost in a crowd or confused for some other child because Psycho will always know which one is his all the time? What do you think?

This reminds me of one fic you wrote one time where Poppy has the twins, and Psycho doesn't know anything about them until he sees them all at the store after... I don't know, it was a while ago, maybe jail?? But yeah, this reminds me of that!

Imagineeeee Psycho only comes upon them once they're teenagers though XD And Poppy isn't there with them, but he still sees these two twins immediately has the strongest instinct saying those are his babies, he is a father, and he needs to protect them.

And now for weeks these 2 kids have this wierd ass guy following them around- he doesn't seem threatening, he's actually been quite helpful at times, but it is wierd XD They only tell their mum like weeks later and Poppy's like...

'You have a feral man stalking you!???' And she knows exactly who it is immediately 😂😂

But like- also- in the x reader sense- I love that idea that 'the stars and the universe' aligned just perfectly so that Psycho had a one night stand XDDD No, Greasy would never let him live it down XD , and its probably him that remembers it and goes 'uh you remember that one time loco?... I'm willing to bet good money that that's probably why you felt that instinct, amigo'.

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drivemysoul · 7 months

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“taylor you are so so beautiful and so so autistic please categorise taylor swift lyrics that correspond with kazuto and asuna’s relationship through every arc of sword art online”

thank you 😭😭 also thank you to everyone else who sent one i love y’all so much 🩷 okay i’m limiting myself to 3 per arc or i’ll be here for 20 hours because i have hours long playlists for each and every arc i love these two so so much

aincrad: “once upon a time the planets and the fates and all the stars aligned, you and i ended up in the same room at the same time, and the touch of a hand lit the fuse of a chain reaction of countermoves to asses the equation of you, checkmate, i couldn’t lose” (i’m counting it as one lyric shush), “i hate accidents except when we went from friends to this” and “i’m perfectly fine, i live on my own, i made up my mind, i’m better off being alone, we met a few weeks ago, now you try on calling me baby like trying on clothes”

sugary days: “i want to drive away with you, i want your complications too, i want your dreary monday, wrap your arms around me baby boy”, “outside they’re pushing and shoving, you’re in the kitchen humming, all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing” and “take me to the lakes where all the poets went to die, i don’t belong and my beloved neither do you”

fairy dance: “i loved you in spite of deep fears that the world would divide us”, “romeo save me, they’re trying to tell me how to feel, this love is difficult but it’s real” and “don’t say yes, run away now, i’ll meet you when you’re out of the church at the back door, don’t wait or say a single vow, you need to hear me out and they said speak now”

phantom bullet: “i’d give my sunshine, give you my best, but the rain is always gonna come if you’re standing with me”, “when i was shipwrecked i thought of you, in the cracks of light i dreamed of you, it was real enough to get me through, i swear you were there” and “are you really gonna talk about timing in times like these, and let all your damage damage me, and carry your baggage up my street, and make me your future history?”

mother’s rosario: “you can’t talk to me when i’m like this, daring you to leave me just so i can try and scare you”, “no deal, the 1950’s shit they want from me, i just wanna stay in that lavender haze” and “i gave you all my best me’s, my endless empathy, and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier, fighting in only your arms, frontlines don’t you ignore me, i’m the best thing at this party, and i wouldn’t marry me either”

ordinal scale: “i like shiny things but i’d marry you with paper rings”, “only bought this dress so you could take it off” and “give you the silence that only comes when two people understand eachother, family that i chose now that i see your brother as my brother, is it enough?”

alicization: “i woke up just in time, now i wake up by your side, my one and only, my lifeline”, “can i go where you go? can we always be this close forever and ever?” and “wherever you stray, i’ll follow”

war of underworld: “lord save me, my drug is my baby, i’ll be using for the rest of my life”, “i would’ve read your love letters every single night and prayed to god you’d be coming home alright, and you would’ve been fine, we would’ve been timeless” and “in the end in wonderland we both went mad”

moon cradle: “have i known you twenty seconds or twenty years?”, “i don’t wanna look at anything else now that i saw you, i don’t wanna think of anything else now that i thought of you” and “time breaks down your mind and body, don’t you let it touch your soul”

unital ring: “i’m gonna love you when our hair is turning grey, we’ll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we’ve made and you’ll say “oh my, we really were timeless””, “up on the roof with a schoolgirl crush, drinking beer out of plastic cups, say you fancy me not fancy stuff, baby all at once this enough” and “i’ve loved you three summers now honey but i want them all”

#stood-onthecliffside #thrown out speeches*#im autistic can you tel

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iread-studies · 1 year

Text

2022 in movies

In 2022, I had decided to challenge myself to watch 365 movies in one year. I didn't succeed, but I did watch 215 and had a lot of fun with it! I watched many things that I would've never watched otherwise and I discovered that on most days it was very easy to squeeze in a movie. The loss of 2 hours simply made me more efficient!

I'll try this challenge again, but not this year as I'll be busy enough as it is. In the meantime, here are the 43 movies worth mentioning out of all 215.

The ones I couldn't find a category for

Glass Onion (2022). Do I even need to talk about this one?

Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (1967). Even forgetting the historical importance of this movie, it's a good movie. I really enjoy that kind of acting and dialogue.

Locked Down (2021). A couple during lockdown in the UK. It perfectly encapsulates that time and the shift in everyone's perception of what life is and how to live it. It won't go the way you are expecting.

Blood Red Sky (2021). Do you like action movies? Do you like plot twists? Yes??? Then go watch this movie without reading the summary first!!!!!

Strictly Ballroom (1992). All those sparkles.

Love stories

Romantic love

The Decoy Bride (2011). David Tenant is supposed to be getting married to a famous actress but the paparazzi won't leave them alone! So they hire Kelly MacDonald to wear the wedding dress and fool them. It is admittedly a bit boring at the beginning, but the ending is everything.

Splash (1984). Tom Hanks meets a mermaid. HUGE "I love my wife" energy.

What If? (2013). A philosophical take on the friends-to-lovers trope. Loved it.

What’s Your Number? (2011). This one is a hilarious romcom + it has an incredible cast! It stars: Chris Evans (as male lead), Chris Pratt, Zachary Quinto, Andy Samberg and Anthony Mackie. I mean, how??? All of them in the same movie??? How ever did all the planets and the fates align?

Sabrina (1995). The second version, not the one with Audrey Hepburn. It's worth watching just to see Harrison Ford shooting at TVs.

Screwball comedies

Romcoms are out, screwballs are in. My biggest discovery in films for the year.

Bachelor Mother (1939). I LOVE GINGER ROGERS. That's it, that's the whole review. Ginger Rogers is mistaken for the mother of an abandoned newborn. She protests but changes her mind once her handsome boss offers her a stable job so she can support the baby. I'm going to rewatch it every year from now until the day I die.

The Major and the Minor (1942). I LOVE GINGER ROGERS. Ginger Rogers pretends to be a 14-year-old because she can't afford an adult-priced train ticket. A kind soldier takes her under his wing for the trip.

Bluebeard's Eighth Wife (1938). Don't go read what this one is about, just watch it. If you appreciate how cute Gary Cooper is in this one (like moi), I also recommend Ball of Fire (1941).

Easy Living (1937). Jean Arthur gets mistaken for the mistress of a Wall Street giant. Young women messing with rich families in screwball comedies is everything to me.

Other kinds of love (platonic, familial, you name it)

Together Together (2021). Best movie of the year, hands down. About the (completely platonic) relationship between a man who wants to become a father and the woman who becomes his surrogate.

Baby Boom (1987). Diane Keaton as a successful business woman that gets suddenly handed a baby after her long-lost cousin dies.

Turner & Hooch (1989). A possibly OCD Tom Hanks gets a misbehaving dog. There is also a murder investigation going but that's not that important.

Musicals

West Side Story (1961). I've watched both versions and the first one is just better, sorry. It's a great movie if you can make it through the 10 minutes of snapping fingers at the beginning.

Anything Goes (2021). This one is not a movie but a pro-shot of actual musical production. About a group of individuals on a cruise ship (to England?) in the '20s. Sutton Foster is amazing and the production is gorgeous.

Cyrano (2022). I actually watched this in the cinemas. Look, it's from the same director as Pride and Prejudice 2005 and I've had the entire score stuck in my head ever since I saw it, what more do you want? Also, it's set in France but was shot in Sicily, haha.

Period movies

Last Night in Soho (2021). Well, kind of a period movie. A modern-day girl starts getting terrifying visions about the girl who lived in her room during the '60s.

Dunkirk (2017). 1940, on the coast of France, thousands of British soldiers are awaiting evacuation. I cried so hard that my mom came into the room to ask me if I was alright.

The Importance of Being Earnest (2002). What I wouldn't give to see this play in a theatre? I really want to watch more Rupert Everett being a silly British gentleman.

An Education (2009). A British teen in the '60s starts a relationship with an older man with a shady life.

The Queen (2006). Queen Elizabeth's life in the immediate aftermath of Princess Diana's death.

Mixtape (2021). An orphaned teen's search for her parents through discovering the music they loved. It's set in 1999 and has very similar vibes to Turning Red (2022).

Animated movies

Turning Red (2022). Fun and different and the whole ridiculous discourse surrounding it when it came out was just a plus, really.

Whisper of the Heart (1995). My new Ghibli fave. It feels like peace.

Encanto (2021). It deserved that Oscar so much.

Superhero movies

Wonder Woman 1984 (2020). I understand why everyone is upset at this movie, mistakes were made, but it was also an entertaining, enjoyable movie. So??? I don't know. RIP Wonder Woman 3.

The Amazing Spiderman 2 (2012). Frankly the best Spiderman movie out of all the pre-Tom Holland ones (which I watched in preparation for No Way Home) (you will notice that there is not one MCU movie on this list)

Rewatches

Love Among The Ruins (1975). This is one of my favourite movies of all time. It stars an older Katherine Hepburn and Lawrence Olivier. It's a legal drama set in England in the 1910s with big "I love my wife" energy.

Barbie, The Princess and the Pauper (2004). Admittedly, I'm biased. I watched this so many times as a child, in Italian. This was my first time watching it as an adult (and in English) and I must say that I had missed a lot of bits of the plot. Also, as a child, I loved the Princess but now I identify better with the Pauper, #charactergrowth.

Legally Blonde (2001). I watched this years ago and found Elle annoying. But now I realize that it was the internalized misogyny inside of me talking. Now I adore this movie! If you had a similar first experience, it might be worth a rewatch (hello, I literally based this studyblr blog on this movie)

Notting Hill (1999). I had found this one boring the first time around, but admittedly I had watched the first hour, stopped, and then watched the second months later so that kind of ruined everything. It's a very cute movie. The last scene alone makes it worth it.

Documentaries

Our Father (2022). This was so disturbing. About sperm-donor-conceived babies (now adults) discovering that the sperm used to conceive them was not whose they thought it was.

Four Hours at the Capital (2021). About the insurrection at the U.S. Capitol on January 6, 2021.

The Tinder Swindler (2022). About a man scamming women on Tinder. This was such a wild ride and apparently he is still at it in 2023.

White Hot (2022). Rise and fall of the brand Abercrombie & Fitch.

Coded Bias (2020). How AI & databases are set to discriminate against minorities.

Jane (2017). About Jane Goodall's life story. In case you didn't know, that's the woman who went to live among chimpanzees in 1960, revolutionizing the field. They use plenty of old footage by Hugo van Lawick (her ex-husband & one of the best nature photographers ever) and they are so stunning and peaceful to watch.

Miss Americana (2020). I am, indeed, a Swiftie.

Mercury 13 (2018). Ever wondered why there were no female astronauts in the first Apollo missions? Watch this documentary and find out.

Well, that was long. Leave a comment if you've read till here, I'm curious how many will actually do it.

#2022 in movies #movies in 2022 #movie review #movie recommendation

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wrestlingisfake · 2 years

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Death Before Dishonor preview

Jonathan Gresham vs. Claudio Castagnoli - Gresham is defending the ROH men's world title. Gresham totally disappeared from AEW programming after April 15, but he's been steadily appearing on the indies ever since. He finally returned to AEW in July, whereupon he quickly turned heel and aligned with Tully Blanchard. His betrayal of Lee Moriarty brought out Castagnoli to intervene. Ever since winning the ROH world title, Gresham has made no bones about wanting to defend it against top ROH legends, and Claudio certainly qualifies.

Castagnoli had a celebrated career in the 2000s at Ring of Honor, Pro Wrestling Guerilla, Noah, etc., but he's now best known for his 2011-2022 run in WWE as Cesaro. After a decade of being consistently underrated and overlooked, he finally left WWE and debuted in AEW on June 26 as a substitute for Bryan Danielson. Now a month later, he's in the main event, competing for one of the world titles that have eluded him throughout his career.

The match should be great, but I think Gresham's heel turn is a distraction. A technical clinic between two babyfaces would have been perfectly fine here. Obviously that's not something every wrestling fan can get into. But ROH needs to focus on what makes it distinct from AEW, which is itself focused on being an alternative to WWE. Having Gresham randomly join a random heel faction is a very "AEW undercard" plot twist, and ROH doesn't need to feel like an extension of the AEW undercard.

I can't help but feel that Blanchard and his guys will interfere in the finish, or set up some overbooked post-match angle. That's fine for Dynamite or Rampage. But to me the point of acquiring ROH just to keep the brand alive should be to make ROH a brand worth maintaining. And the world doesn't need another brand of fuck finishes. In any case, I think Gresham retains the title to build heel heat for some bigger challenger down the line (whoever that could be).

Dax Harwood & Cash Wheeler vs. Jay Briscoe & Mark Briscoe - FTR (Harwood and Wheeler) defeated the Briscoes on April 1 to win the ROH tag team title, so this is the rematch. (FTR also hold the IWGP and AAA tag titles, which are not at stake here.) It's a two-out-of-three-falls match, so the match can't end until one team has scored two falls.

Much has been made about whether Tony Khan could even use the Briscoes in AEW/ROH. In 2013 Jay Briscoe made a crude remark about same-sex marriage, for which he has since apologized. That is presumably why TV executives reportedly told AEW not to put Jay and Mark on their networks. Nevertheless, Khan recently revealed the Briscoes are under a contract to do more ROH stuff, and AEW has freely promoted this match even if the Briscoes haven't appeared on AEW television to do so. So we'll see how that all plays out.

The first FTR-Briscoes match was excellent. I'm not the type to nitpick Dave Meltzer's star ratings, but I was genuinely stunned he gave it "only" five stars and not six. I'm not sure how the two teams can top that first match, or how the stip can help. Theoretically, since it took 27 minutes for FTR to score one fall in the first match, this time it should take nearly an hour for one team to score two falls. But it usually doesn't work out that way, and I'd be surprised if the first fall doesn't happen in the first 15 minutes.

Since it looks like the Briscoes are sticking aorund, it shouldn't be a problem for them to recapture the ROH tag title. The question is whether there's anything left to do with FTR as triple champions before they drop one pair of belts. I'd like to see FTR vs. Young Bucks, but I don't know that all those belts need to be involved for that match to work. So it's possible this could go either way, which is always good for the drama.

Samoa Joe vs. Jay Lethal - Joe's ROH television title is on the line. Joe debuted for AEW/ROH on April 1 by making the save after Lethal and Sonjay Dutt turned heel on Jonathan Gresham. (The fact Gresham is now also a heel makes this feud even dumber.) Joe proceeded to win the TV title while Lethal and Dutt acted like dipshits and introduced their big monster henchman Satnam Singh. Joe has largely treated Lethal's group as a minor distraction, so this hasn't been the best storytelling in pro wrestling by any stretch.

Joe has not had a match since May 29. In fact, I don't think he's even been in an arena since then; this show may be his first live appearance in nearly two months. That's understandable if Joe was dealing with an injury or something. But Joe's absence has been a fatal blow for what was already a crap storyline, because Lethal's group has been left cutting promos on a guy who wasn't even there, who barely gave a shit when he was there.

The whole thing has been garbage and I wish this match would just end it once and for all so both sides can move on. I don't care who ends up with the TV title. Ring of Honor doesn't even need a TV title. I'd rather see Satnam Singh crumple the belt in his bare hands and eat it whole.

Wheeler YUTA vs. Daniel Garcia - This is for Yuta's ROH pure championship, so the match will be contested under pure rules. Pure rules impose severe limitations on closed-fist strikes and moving into the ring ropes to break a hold. The idea is to force the action to be "pure," i.e., more technical wrestling. But in practice I find pure matches have less to do with using wrestling to win than with using the rules to win.

Yuta vs. Garcia for the pure belt is just the sort of match I would have expected the ROH of 2021 to book--two promising young technicians fresh off the indies in a mat classic. But in 2022, there's an added dimension in that Yuta's in the Blackpool Combat Club and Garcia is in the Jericho Appreciation Society, which have been at war for months. Both guys want to prove their superior skills, but they also both want to hurt each other real real bad. How bad can you hurt your opponent in a pure rules match? I guess we're about to find out.

I could see either man winding up with the title. But I tend to think Garcia should win, just because the pure belt is just kind of irrelevant to the whole Blackpool Combat Club gimmick. Yuta is in the BCC to learn to be violent; he doesn't need to learn to be "pure" because he already had that figured out. A heel champion using Jericho's faction to hide from worthy challengers might be a better way to go.

Mercedes Martinez vs. Serena Deeb - Martinez is defending the ROH women's world title. These two were teaming together on AEW Dark for a while, and squashing anyone in their path, but it was clear right away that Deeb was going to turn on Martinez.

I think this should be pretty good, although AEW crowds haven't been all that invested in either of these two. Maybe they'll get a better response from an ROH crowd, in a more intimate venue at a traditional ROH town like Lowell, Massachusetts.

I could see either woman carrying the belt while the future of ROH gets sorted out. They're both perfectly capable of keeping the title warm until there's a weekly show, at which point it'll be possible to rebuild a dedicated ROH women's division. So I can't really pick a winner.

Rush vs. Dragon Lee - Rush was a co-founder, along with Andrade El Idolo, of Los Ingobernables; after a nasty breakup with CMLL he formed La Faccione Ingobernable in ROH. Lee is Rush's brother, but he was already a big lucha star in his own right in CMLL/NJPW/ROH before he joined LFI. Both guys finished up with ROH in late 2021, and they've been curiously absent from the American scene in 2022. Rush finally showed up in AEW a couple of months ago to reunite with Andrade; it's still not clear if Lee will join them there.

There doesn't appear to be a storyline reason why these brothers and stablemates are fighting. My guess is they're just comfortable working with one another, and after the match they'll still be together in storyline. Rush should win, but I assume he won't totally squash his own brother.

Vincent & Dutch & Bateman vs. Dalton Castle & Brandon Tate & Brent Tate - Castle and The Boys are challenging the Righteous for the ROH trios title. Over the years many wrestlers have escorted Dalton to the ring as "The Boys," but the Tate twins were the definitive version of the act. I think this is the first time this trio has been together since Dalton turned on the Tates in April 2019.

The Righteous faction spun out of Vincent's ROH feud with Matt Taven. After Sinclair shut down ROH in 2021, Vincent and Taven joined forces in Impact Wrestling as part of a "disgruntled ex-ROH employees" stable. Vincent, Dutch, and Bateman continued to team up on the indies, but it wasn't clear if any of them would ever appear in Tony Khan's version of ROH, or what would become of the trios title. Now we might finally get some answers.

One major headache here is that ROH doesn't actually need a trios title. It was a good idea back in 2016 when you had the Kingdom and SCU and the Elite running around, but it's been an afterthought for years. In 2022 it makes far more sense for AEW to have a trios title, and if AEW gets their own, then ROH's version is going to be even more superfluous. But that's an issue to address some other day.

My gut feeling is that one of these teams is here to win and carry the trios title until ROH gets TV, while the other team is just here for one night to put over the winners. So I tend to think Dalton's team will be sticking around and the Righteous won't be, but anything is possible.

Brian Cage & Kaun & Toa Liona vs. Tony Deppen & Alex Zayne & Blake Christian - This is scheduled for the pre-show. Tully Blanchard revealed on April 1 that Cage, Kaun, and Liona were all under his guidance as "Tully Blanchard Enterprises." Deppen, Zayne, and Christian are the kind of indy guys you'd expect to see in ROH, although none of them ever really had a long tenure with the promotion. I'm pretty sure this is going to be a five-minute squash match to put over Tully's guys as badass heels.

Allysin Kay vs. Willow Nightingale - Another pre-show match. Both of these women were regulars for ROH in 2021, right before the shutdown. I'm guessing the point of this match is to set up the winner to be next in line for a title shot against the winner of Martinez-Deeb. Either of these women would be fine in that role, but since Willow is the one that's regularly appearing on AEW lately, I expect she'll be the one to get the win.

Cheeseburger & Eli Isom vs. Ari Daivari & Slim J - Yet another pre-show match. Cheeseburger and Isom used to be in a prelim group in ROH called the Shinobi Shadow Squad, although that was like three or four gimmicks ago. Daivari--formerly Ariya Daivari in WWE's cruiserweight division--just returned to AEW with a new gimmick where he's rich and assembling a stable called the Trustbusters. Slim J, who has been around forever but I've literally never heard of him, is Ari's first recruit. The Trustbusters have been getting set up on the Dark tapings, but this will be the first time I've seen them. I assume they have to win here.

Colt Cabana vs. Anthony Henry - Look, if they want to do four pre-show matches, I can't complain. A recent report suggested that Cabana was close to getting cut by AEW, but people went to bat for him so he's been reassigned to ROH. Henry is a regular jobber on AEW, usually as one half of the Workhorsemen team with JD Drake. So yeah, Colt is going to win this match.

#aew #roh #ring of honor #death before dishonor #jonathan gresham #claudio castagnoli #ftr #the briscoes

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