#i have my wedding party at the end of the month and its like kind of casual?? its a 'wedding party' but | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kingkatsuki · 1 year

Text

Sealed With A Kiss | Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Didn’t think I’d write anything for Bakugou’s birthday and then a random idea popped into my head and I wrote it all in one sitting. It’s been months since I’ve started and finished a fic, so please be kind! And Happy Birthday, Bakugou!💕

Summary: Not everyone wants the quirk that they're given. Ever since you were a child, you were cursed with a quirk where you’re able to see how someone will die when you kiss them. Unsure on whether your quirk is telling the future, or sealing their fate with a kiss of death, its safer for you to completely give up on finding love. Coming to terms over the years that you’ll have to watch all your friends get married and settle down, while you spend the rest of your life alone. That is, until you run into Bakugou Katsuki.

Warnings: 18+, minimal plot, mostly smut, no beta, praise, dirty talk, fingering, multiple orgasms, public sex, protected sex, not as angsty as I thought it’d be!

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x f!reader.

Word Count: 6.4k.

What would you do if you could tell someone the exact time and way that they’re going to die? Would you share that information with them, hoping that they can get their affairs in order and live those final moments to the fullest before kicking the bucket? Or would you keep quiet about it, holding onto the information as though it's a sordid little secret that needs to be buried and taken to your own grave?

Not that it matters anyway, because even if you held that information no one would believe you anyway, would they? Telling someone that they’re going to die in a car accident when they don’t even drive, or that they die during a snowstorm in July. It’s like people only ever believe what they want to hear, and it’s the same reason why even your best friend doesn’t know about your quirk. Imagine if you’d proved it, writing down your prediction and then waiting for it to happen. Counting down the days like you’re waiting for an exciting event, not waiting for someone to die. And then what? Someone dies and people want you to do it again, to prove that it wasn’t just a fluke. And then what? You’re kissing every single person that comes along just to tell them that they’re not going to make it to their next birthday?

Quirks should be a blessing, but yours was most definitely a curse.

“You know you really should start trying to settle down, you’re not getting any younger.” You could practically feel the disdain in their tone as you tried to avoid the question by taking a sip of your drink.

“You act like she’s going to die soon,” Your best friend Tatami laughed, shaking her head, “She’s got plenty of time.”

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. You should scoff at the saying, but in this instance, it was very much true. The entire Hen party was made more awkward by the fact that you didn’t like any of your best friends friends’. All socialites that would give up your deepest, darkest secrets to further themselves and get their names plastered all over the latest tabloids. You were lucky enough to have known her since childhood, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Every wedding you’d attended in the last few years was even more elaborate and outrageous than the last like each bride competed to show that they had the most magnificent life. And every time you were stuck in an uncomfortable bridesmaid dress, trying to avoid the same string of questioning that you knew was coming.

“Come on, Tatami.” One of the girls rolled her eyes, taking a large sip of champagne, “Why don’t you try to set her up with one of your old school friends? At least then she’d be with a man with ambition.”

You felt irritated by them talking about you as though you weren’t even in the room, never mind sitting on the opposite ends of a table. They made it seem as though you were incapable of finding a partner like no one would ever want you.

“Or you could try one of those dating websites, I almost married a rich tycoon from Russia on there before I settled down with my husband. It’s funny how things work out.”

Of course, no one even bothers to ask me whether I want a boyfriend or not– never mind a husband. You rolled your eyes at the idea of flying out to Russia to marry a rich oil tycoon.

“I’m happily single at the moment,” You force a smile, your hand tightening against your glass, “

“They are right though, darling.” Tatami gave you a soft smile, “You have been single for quite some time. I’m not even certain I remember the last time you even mentioned going on a date with anyone?”

That’s because you hadn’t. Not since you lost your boyfriend all those years ago. Why would you try to look for someone again knowing what you know now?

Growing up you’d eagerly awaited receiving your quirk, but the longer it took to manifest the more you’d come to terms that you were one of the quirkless. It wasn’t until you shared your first kiss at sixteen that you realised that maybe things weren’t quite as they seemed. Everyone anticipates their first kiss, hoping it would be one of those special, perfect moments that you’d remember for the rest of your life. But instead, the moment you’d shared yours, you’d been struck with a horrifying premonition.

It felt like a dream at first, a moment where you’d pinch yourself and realise that everything had been concocted in your mind. The vision of your first love walking into traffic on a cold, snowy evening. The cars were unable to stop against the icy terrain as they drove straight towards him, the lights bouncing off the road to make it difficult to see pedestrians as he was knocked to his back. You’d even told him about it after it happened, laughing about how vivid your imagination was– but not even three months later and it's like your nightmare came true.

You’d told yourself it was a coincidence, that it could've happened to anyone and it was a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Trying to heal your heart as you took time to recover from losing your first love until you met your next boyfriend. You were trying to allow yourself to be happy again, to forget the bad memories that haunted your past. Until it happened again– your first kiss with him gave you a vision. This time a villain attack endangered the city, your boyfriend was caught in the crossfire as a fire quirk ripped through his body and burnt him from the inside out.

It should’ve frightened you, much like the first time. But instead, you just felt numb. It was then you realised that you weren’t in fact quirkless, but instead of gaining a talent that was cool, flashy or useful to society– you inherited a curse.

Of course, there was no way you could explain your quirk to anyone, finding someone that believed you would be hard enough. But telling someone that you know when they’re going to die purely from kissing them? It sounded insane. Not to mention what it could do if the information fell into the wrong hands. Using the information for those dark, depraved benefits.

And to this day you weren’t even sure whether kissing someone showed the way they were going to die, or whether kissing them sealed their fate. Like you were the grim reaper handing out the macabre kiss of death.

Why would anyone want to be with you?

So it was easier this way, guarding your heart so you couldn’t feel the pain of losing someone you love again. A small price to pay to ensure that you didn’t harm anyone else, and the disappointed looks from your friends that you were still very much single were a small price to pay.

But you did feel alone.

Watching all your friends get married, settle down and have kids was harder when you knew you could never have those things. Maybe that's why it hurt even more. We always desire what we can’t have, after all.

“Let me set you up on one date and see how it goes,” Tatami’s annoying friend dipped her glass towards you from across the table, the champagne sloshing inside it, “I have this friend, not much of a looker, but he’s a quirk defence lawyer. It pays good money, and he’s looking to settle down–”

“It’s alright, I’m really not looking–” You felt awkward as each set of eyes around the table scrutinised you.

“Nonsense, he’d be perfect for you,” She continued, and you almost groaned as she pulled out her phone, “Let me text him now, I bet he could get you lunch in that new Sushi restaurant in the city.”

“Sorry, I just need the bathroom-” You almost shoved Tatami out of the booth as she stood up to let you out, her drink splashing as you tried to give her a reassuring smile before disappearing into the throng of people inside the busy nightclub. You weren’t even sure if you’d be able to find it back to your table at this point, but all you knew is you needed to get out.

The heat inside the club was suffocating, burning through you as you tried to find an exit. Weaving through the sea of people as you tried to remind yourself to breathe. Heaving a sigh as you noticed the sign to a smoking area as you followed the few people heading in the same direction. Stepping into the cool evening air is a welcome relief, the chill pricks against your skin as the heat slowly simmers down. Leaning against the rough brick wall as the back of your head knocks against it gently, closing your eyes to try and alleviate the irritation bubbling up inside you.

“Oi, you okay?” Your eyes opened into a glare to see the source of the voice, your nose scrunched in irritation at the blunt introduction.

A blond man stood a few feet away from you, cell phone in hand. The bright screen illuminated his face and cast a soft glow against his skin. You felt your heart betray you as it sped up at the sight of him, suddenly feeling self-conscious beneath his piercing ruby gaze.

“M’fine.” You mumbled, not about to dump all your issues on a random stranger.

“You don’t look fine,” He shrugged, glancing back down at his phone as he typed against the screen.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sneered, your defences up.

“You just look pissed,” He smirked, and it only irritated you more.

Who did this fucking asshole think he was?

“Well I’ve got a random stranger bothering me, so perhaps I am.”

The answer has the opposite effect you were expecting as the blond beside you gives you a wide grin, shaking his head.

“Gotta be better than the desperate pricks inside there?” He tilts his head towards the club and you’ve gotta admit he’s right. You’ve been standing beside him for a minute and he hasn’t tried to buy you a drink or grab your ass.

“Guess you’re right.” You exhale softly.

“Whatever it is can’t be that bad anyway,” He shrugs, “You’re too pretty to be frownin’.”

You hate the way your heart throbs when he calls you pretty, it's pathetic really.

“You come here alone?”

Does he really think you’re that much of a loser to come to a club by yourself?

‘No, my friends are still inside.”

“So why are you out here alone?” He raises a questioning brow.

“Why are you here?” You crossed your arms against your chest defensively, turning the question back on him like he wasn’t doing the exact same thing you were.

“Got a big promotion today,” He shrugs it off like it’s nothing. Probably just another step on the never-ending corporate ladder to him, “My friends got me out to celebrate.”

“Is that why you’re standing outside on your own?” You shoot back, unable to miss the way his nostrils flare in irritation.

“Could say the same to you, sweetheart.” He scoffs, “Who’re you here with?”

“My best friend,” You smile softly, “She’s getting married.”

“Not very rowdy for a hen party.”

“Oh yeah?” You watch the way his tongue darts out between his lips to wet them, “You're not exactly the life of the party yourself, are you?”

“Just wanna go home,” He rolled his eyes, “My friends turn into assholes when they’re drunk.”

“Mine can be assholes at any time.” You were already expecting texts in the morning trying to invite you on a blind date you didn’t even want to go on.

“Dya want me to call you a cab?” The guy held up his phone, “I can get you a separate one if you don’t wanna share. It ain’t safe to be out here alone.”

“Very considerate of you,” You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop your heart from doing a little flip, “I can take care of myself.”

“Sure looks like it,” He scoffed, “That why you’re gonna hide out here for the rest of the night?”

“Shut up,” You almost pouted, “I’ll go back in.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He smirked.

“What’s your name?” You asked as he slipped his phone back into his black jeans pocket.

“Bakugou.” He answered after pausing for a second, “What's yours?”

You mumble your name and can’t stop your cheeks from scalding when he responds with a soft “Pretty.”

Standing in a comfortable silence between the handsome stranger you watched groups of people slowly leaving the club, some moving on to their next destination for the night and others trying to stop their friends from throwing up before they climbed into their designated cabs.

“Gonna take fuckin’ ages to catch a cab now, I hate this part of the city.” Bakugou groans, running his palm down the length of his face.

“You could go back in and party,” You shrugged, “I’m sure your friends are missing you.”

“Yeah? After you, sweetheart—” Bakugou made a mock chivalrous movement with his arm to invite you to go back inside first which you rejected. Moving back to stare into the sea of people with a small smile on your face, “Didn’t think so.”

You stood in a comfortable silence beside him for what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes. One of the first times in a long time that you felt yourself as you both listened to the rowdy cheers in the background.

“Do you ever just want to say fuck it and disappear?” You surprised yourself by speaking your thoughts out loud.

“Go somewhere where no one knows who the fuck you are or what the fuck you’re doin’?” Bakugou responded simply.

“Yeah.”

“All the time.” He murmurs.

“It just hurts when it seems like everyone else has their perfect little lives while you’re just waiting on the sidelines,” You sigh. Maybe it was easier offloading everything onto a random stranger, it wasn’t as though you had anyone else you could talk to, “It’s just lonely.”

“You don’t have to be lonely.” He replied as though it was the most simple answer.”

“It’s not that easy,” You shake your head.

“Who said it ain’t that easy?” Bakugou turned to face you, his frame towering over you as you looked up at him with wide eyes.

“Cause I’m always lonely.” You felt hot, pearly tears beginning to clump in your lash line as you thought about the nights you spent at home alone while all your friends were with their partners. The life that you’d always dreamed about, but never have. For once you just wanted someone to be there for you, with you, “It's just how it is.”

“You don’t have to be though, sweetheart.” He whispers.

“Yeah?” You murmurs, “Do you feel alone too?”

“Fuck,” He groans, leaning his forehead against yours as he stands with you for a moment, “C’mere.”

Bakugou took your hand in his as he walked you through the crowd of people outside the rowdy venue and down a dark dingy alley that was illuminated in fierce neon lights from the various clubs dotted along the high street. You followed behind him obediently as your heart danced against your ribcage, astounded by your daring behaviour. He could be a murderer or a psychopath for all you knew– just another stranger out looking for his next victim. But for some reason (maybe it was the liquid courage coursing through your veins) you felt safe with him.

He moves his hands to your hips as he pushed you back against the cool brick wall, slotting himself between your parted thighs as he looks down at you with crimson eyes. The scent of liquor was sharp on his breath as his lips hovered close to you, warmth fanning your face as he leaned to kiss you.

“No kissing,” You gasped as you tilted your head just in time to avoid his lips as he pressed a wet, scorching kiss against your jawline.

If he had an issue with it, he didn’t voice it. The only sound was a rough grunt rumbling from the back of his throat as his lips continued to pepper sloppy kisses along your neck. Your fingers swiftly carded through his messy hair, nails grazing his scalp as you tried to pull him closer. As though everything right now wasn’t enough, you needed more.

“Please,” You whine as you felt his teeth graze your pulse point, hips bucking as strong palms reached out to steady you. Keeping you still as he bit down on the supple skin hard, the sudden pain had you crying out for him as the ache blurred your vision. Or maybe it was the alcohol running through your system— warm lips suckling the fresh bite mark as you clench your thighs together in a feeble attempt to give your neglected clit some much-needed friction.

“Please, what?” He rasps against your neck, his tongue salving against the mark he’d left against your skin moments earlier.

This is the part where you should’ve stopped him. Making up an excuse about Tatami wondering where you are, or needing to get home and disappearing into the night. But you didn’t—

“Touch me,”

“You always beg random strange men to touch you, sweetheart?” He smirked, his hand reaching round to grab a handful of your ass, “Or am I just special?”

If only he knew how unlike you this really was, that no one had touched you so intimately in years. A thought that would’ve surely ruined the mood if Bakugou’s hand hadn’t slipped beneath your dress to cup your aching sex, the sensation had you gasping in surprise as the blonde smirked down at you.

“I’m just special, hah?” He answered his own question with a toothy grin, “Is that why your panties are dripping for me?”

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt this insatiable. Evenings spent at home with your toys felt nothing like the way his warm hands felt against your skin, uncaring that you were in a dirty alleyway as you found yourself grinding into his touch.

“Fuck,” You murmur, your head knocking against the cold brick as Bakugou presses the heel of his palm against your clit through the sheer fabric. A heat blazes through his touch and scorches you as you writhe against him, desperate to create a delicious friction as he smirks down at how salacious you look at this moment.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet, bet I’d slide right in.” He grunts, surprising himself at his blunt words. Blaming his audaciousness on the alcohol Sero and Denki had plied him with not long ago, the liquor flowing through his veins.

“Please,” It’s quite pathetic really, just how easily this man has turned you into this. You’d managed to go years without the touch of a man, and now you’d felt it for a moment you were unsure how you’d ever lived without it.

“Oh, fuck.” He chokes back a groan as he pulls your panties to the side, the skirt of your dress now shamelessly bunched around your waist as he notes the glossy strings of your essence that cling to the flimsy fabric of your panties, “This all for me?”

His fingers drag through your slick shamelessly, testing it on his fingers as he feels the heat radiating from your core. He spends little time circling your puffy clit before continuing lower, dipping one thick digit inside your tight hole. You wish at this moment that you’d worn slightly prettier panties than the plain black ones you wore right now, but if Bakugou had any issues with them he certainly didn’t seem to mind as he pumped his finger in and out of your core.

“Shit, you’re so sensitive.” He groans at the way your body responds to him, thrashing against him as he places more pressure on your clit.

“Please, Bakugou.” Your thighs quiver as he continues pumping his finger inside you, feeling the way your walls hungrily try to suck him in deeper, to take all he's got to give and more.

“Wish we weren’t in a dirty fuckin’ alley right now, princess. I’d have you sit on my face.” He groans, feeling the way your cunt clenches around him at his lewd words. You’d never wished something so bad in your life, tempted to tell him you didn’t mind if there was an audience if it meant having his lips wrapped around your clit.

“I don’t normally do this shit,” He groans, nuzzling your neck.

“Fuck strangers in alleys?” You tease as he gives you a playful smirk against your skin.

“Somethin’ like that.”

You groan as he adds another finger to join the first, stretching you open as your nails dig crescent-shaped moons into the base of his neck, leaving reddened indents against his skin as he growls from the slight twinge of pain. The sounds coming from your cunt are downright crude, echoing around the empty alley as he deliberately curls his fingers to press against the spongy spot inside you.

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ dripping.” Bakugou grunts, watching your creamy slick dribble down his fingers and settle into his palm, his thumb pressing sloppy circles against your needy clit as you shamelessly rock your hips into his touch. Greedily searching for the orgasm that he’s more than happy to give to you.

“Look at you,” He goads, “You’re so fuckin’ easy. This sloppy ‘nd I’ve barely even touched you. Is this all it takes, sweet girl?”

You don’t have the heart to tell him how long it's been since anyone touched you like this, that no matter how hard you try to replicate his touch after today, you’ll probably never feel anything like this again. It’s like he’s tempting you to say something, to give him a witty comeback. But you can’t, not when his fingers are stroking you in all the right places, stretching you out in preparation for what you know is soon to come. You spread your thighs further apart to give him more access, a movement that has a wide grin from ear to ear appearing on his face. Standing on shaky heels as he ensures you stay upright with a palm on your waist.

He knows when he’s found it, like a lost ship searching for the bright glow of a lighthouse to guide it home. Pushing his calloused digits against the same spot that he knows will have you coming undone.

“Right there, huh baby?” He coos, “Yeah, I know, I know. Such a pretty pussy.”

You must look debauched now, your tongue lolling out as you pant pathetically with your head knocking against the cold brick wall. Allowing Bakugou– a complete stranger– to do as he so pleases with you.

“Oi, you listening to me?” He growls, and you can’t even remember what he’s just said. So lost in your own bliss as he continues to press the same persistent circles against your clit, “Course you ain’t, so desperate to cum, hm?’

“Please, Bakugou.” You mumble, breaking off into a salacious moan as he increases his pace eagerly trying to push you over the edge. He’s watching intently as you writhe against him, dangerously close to your release as you pulse around his digits.

“Fuck,” He almost snarls, the sound sending shockwaves direct to your needy cunt as you feel yourself vaulting into your bliss.

His fingers don’t stop their ministrations, even as you're crying out for him and gushing all over them. He instead, increases his pace, determined to have you completely intoxicated on him before he's even begun.

“You’re so goddamn noisy, ain’tcha?” He scoffs, finally pulling his digits from your spent cunt with a crude squelch. Unabashedly holding them up to his lips as he tastes you on his tongue, groaning as though he's tasted the sweetest ambrosia as he cleans you off his skin.

“Please, Bakugou.” You slur, legs shaky from the intense orgasm he’d gifted you as he pulls his fingers from his mouth.

Bakugou’s fingers are quick to unfasten his belt, letting the heavy buckle hang as he dipped his thumbs into the hem of his boxers to pull them down along with his jeans. Letting the material settle around the curve of his ass, just enough to free his aching cock. The sight of it had your thighs quivering in anticipation, the bulging head an angry pink colour as it oozed pre from the slit. Dribbling down the underside as the veins that forked along his girth made him appear even bigger, the length of it drooped down from the sheer weight as you wondered how on earth he could keep something that size hidden beneath his jeans.

“S’big,” You murmur, biting down on your lower lip as your cunt throbs in anticipation. Even his balls look huge, thick and weighty as you watch him give himself a teasing pump. His wrist rolling as he smears pre along the length. Ready to ignore how damp and filthy the floor looks in favour of dropping to your knees to worship his cock as it deserves.

“Think you can still manage it though, sweetheart.” He grins, “I know that pretty pussy’s good for it.”

You’re almost disappointed when he pulls a condom out from his wallet in his back pocket, seemingly you’ve found the only man in the entire bar with a conscience as he rips the foil packet open with his teeth. Lifting one of your thighs up to press against his hip as his cock slips between your folds, the fat tip catching against your entrance as he sucks in a breath.

“Don’t do that,” Bakugou groans, “You’ll make me wanna fuck you raw.”

“Do it then.” You challenge, wondering whether he really is like all the sleazy men your friends end up with.

“Another time, baby.” He glowers back, pushing the tip of the condom against the head of his cock as he slides it down his length.

The first push against your tight entrance has the air stolen from your lungs, a dull ache from the stretch in your core as his thick cock slowly breaches your sex.

“Holy fuck,” He grunts, his fingers dipping into the fat of your thigh as he holds it against his hip, “You’re so tight.”

He smirks at how desperate you are to feel him inside you, trying to drop yourself down on his length as he gives a few, shallow thrusts. Your fingers dig into his skin to try and get him to give you more, rewarding you by thrusting all the way inside. One sharp rut is all it takes to have him sheathed inside you, your walls moulding to the shape of his cock as he takes a moment to cherish the sensation of you wrapped around him.

“Told you I’d slide right in, perfect fuckin’ pussy.” He groans, slowly pulling back as he glances down between you to watch his cock slide out of your warm heat before you take every inch again.

There’s not much you can do in this position except stand there and take what Bakugou’s got to give, his rough thrusts push you against the wall as he almost sweeps you off your feet. His messy pubes tickle your clit with every forward motion as your essence leaks from your needy cunt and dribbles down his heavy balls.

His scent is intoxicating, the saccharine tartness has you tugging him closer. Burying your nose into his neck to smell the mixture of cologne and his natural scent. It’s almost comforting as you cling to him a little tighter, trying to commit it to memory so you can cherish it when you inevitably end up alone after tonight.

“Oh, god.” You cling to his broad shoulders, holding him tight as he sets a brutal pace. The fabric of your dress catches against the rough brick behind you as he leaves a trail of kisses against your cheek.

The sensation is overwhelming, the pleasure rapidly building inside you as he continues thrusting into you with hard, sharp ruts of his hips. For once, the only thing you can think about is the white-hot pleasure coursing through you. The soothing ache from his cock stretching you open is almost cathartic as you let him use your body as he pleases, his rough hands groping at your exposed skin as he presses more scorching kisses against your jugular, sharp teeth nipping at your skin.

“Oh fuck, Bakugou.” You cry out, louder than intended as your toes curl from his harsh movement.

“Shit– You want us to get caught, sweetheart?” He groans, his palm reaching up to cover your mouth, “Can’t kiss you to shut’cha up, can I? So I’ll have to do this.”

And maybe it’s better this way, your lips warm against his palm as your lipstick smears against it. Otherwise, with the way he was looking down at you, you probably would’ve kissed him.

Your moans are muffled by Bakugou now, his pace unrelenting as he gives rough thrusts inside you. The lewd squelch vibrates around the empty alley and mingles with the loud thrum of bass that vibrates from inside the club. The loud bustle of voices only feet away as anyone could turn down and see you both in such a compromising position— not that it would be anything unusual. You certainly aren’t the first couple to fuck down this alley, if the empty condom wrappers and bottles are anything to go by, and you surely won’t be the last. But it’s been so unlike you to allow yourself to submit to your pleasure, to live a little.

“You still with me, pretty girl?” He groans, “Pussy feels so good. Can feel you clamping down around me.”

You whined against his palm, feeling the pleasure intensifying inside you as Bakugou continued his rough pace. Drunken patrons hollered boisterously as they left the bar causing him to shield your body with his broad back, taking his eyes off you to ensure they didn’t decide to come down the alleyway to interrupt you.

“Fuckin’ pricks.” Bakugou snarled under his breath as he stilled inside of you.

Your entire body felt as though it was on fire, hovering dangerously close to the edge of your climax as your cunt clenched around his thick cock. Causing Bakugou to suck a harsh breath through his teeth as he brought his attention back to you, the corner of his lip curling into a sly smirk.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I didn’t forget about you,” He groaned, languidly moving inside you, “Gonna make you cum so hard.”

“Please,” You mumbled, muffled by his hand as he began rolling his hips, the bulging tip of his cock catching against the spongy spot inside you with each pronounced thrust.

“Fuck,” Bakugou snarls, moving his hand from your mouth in favour of slipping it between your bodies to thumb at your clit. The sensation has your knees buckling as your weight drops, no longer able to hold yourself up. But he’s strong, keeping you pinned between his body and the wall as he keeps his unrelenting pace, “Come on, pretty girl. I know you’re close, can feel you choking me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It’s embarrassing really, how one man— a stranger, can have you coming undone like this in public no less.

“So fuckin’ noisy, shit-” He grunts, his ruby gaze intense as he watches you come undone.

Bakugou steals your climax from you, his thumb is unrelenting against your clit as he feels your cunt clamp down around him. The loud cry that spills from your lips has him wincing as he hopes no one’s decided to look down the alley for a free show— something that would certainly make the front page this very morning. He eases you through your high, the white spots that dance across your vision make it feel like you’re seeing stars. A sea of constellations against your eyelids as you succumb to the pleasure.

“You look so pretty when you cum,” He groans, his face buried in the apex of your neck as he inhales deeply, committing your scent to memory as he cherishes the way your cunt clenches around his cock.

Bakugou pushes his fat cock inside you, as deep as he can go. Until his balls are snug against the swell of your ass as he feels the tremble of your cunt coming down from your high. His warm breath scorches your neck as he gives himself a moment's respite before picking up his pace once more, greedily using your body to chase his own release. His palm pushes your thigh up higher against his hip, changing the angle as the swollen tip of his cock finds what it was searching for. The euphoria already surging through your veins is enhanced by the attention from his cock knocking against the same spot inside you over, and over, and over.

“Think you can give me one more, sweet girl?” He rasps, watching your thick lashes flutter as tears blind your vision.

“I– can’t,” You manage to get out between broken breaths, unadulterated pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Yeah, you can.” He coos, his thumb persistent against your clit as he ruts into the same spot inside you, “C’mon, for me?”

The sensation building inside you is almost painful, still overwhelmed from your last intense climax the pleasure still bubbling to the surface as Bakugou is unrelenting. It’s too much, and yet not enough at the same time.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart.” He groans, “Cum for me.”

Your body feels ungovernable as you succumb to the pleasure, a cry of his name tumbling from your lips that he doesn’t try to silence as he holds your quivering body. Preventing you from thrashing as he clings to you tightly, fingertips creating divots in your plush thigh.

“Oh fuck, there we go.” He snarls primally, nostrils flaring as he gives a few final shaky ruts of his hips, spilling his release inside the condom with a grunt as you both bask in the aftershocks of your release.

You’re certain if he let go of you now you’d collapse to the dirty floor, your legs no longer strong enough to support your weight as you cling to Bakugou. And he holds you back just as tight, dropping your sore thigh in favour of wrapping his arms around your waist as he remains buried inside your fluttering cunt.

He can still feel you spasming when he finally pulls out of you, sliding the condom off his spent cock as he shamelessly throws it onto the ground. Fixing your panties before pulling your dress back down around your thighs to hide your modesty before he moves to tuck his wet cock back inside his underwear and buttons his jeans.

You hadn’t expected him to hold you so tenderly, as though you were the world's most precious porcelain. But you both stand there for what feels like forever, basking in the afterglow as you sway side to side.

A large palm raised to cup your warm cheek, the calloused pad of his thumb brushing against the soft skin as he tilted your head to meet his gaze. Leaning forward as his eyes crossed to stare at your pouty lips, closing the distance slowly until you placed a palm on his chest.

“No kissing.” You repeated, turning your head as Bakugou pulled back, squinting at you.

“Still?” Bakugou grunts, “Why the no kissin’ bullshit?”

You couldn’t explain it to him, especially not after this. Wondering if it would be easier to make up a lie about your breath smelling or being nervous.

“I just can’t.” You sounded pathetic, internally wincing at the pitiful tone of your voice.

“Yeah, why?” He continued, “You got a boyfriend or somethin’?”

He actually looked hurt as he asked the question, his crimson gaze searching your eyes for any kind of deception as you shake your head no.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Husband?” Bakugou pushes as you shake your head again.

“No.”

“Then what’s the fuckin’ problem?” He spits, slightly more harshly than intended.

“You won’t like it,”

I don’t want to know when you die. You think to yourself.

“Like fuck I won’t.” He scoffed, “Fuckin’ dumbass.”

Bakugou caught you by surprise when he wrapped his palm around your neck, holding you so tenderly as he ducked his head forward. Catching you even more by surprise as he placed his chapped lips against yours, his tongue instantly slipping past your parted lips to delve deeper.

Fuck.

The first time you’ve actually felt something for someone this had to happen. The premonition played clearly behind your eyes as you felt Bakugou’s tongue mould against your own, a deep timber groan vibrating against your mouth as he lost himself in the kiss.

Of course, whatever higher power couldn’t just let you be happy for once, you had to see the fate in store for Bakugou Katsuki.

Pulling away from your lips as his tongue poked out to taste your lipgloss, the corner of his lips curled into a smug smirk as you stared up at him in complete horror. This wasn’t good—

You’d hoped that his death would be a peaceful one, dying a natural death surrounded by his loved ones at a ripe old age. But it was anything but, the terrifying vision now imprinted onto your memory. And you wished he never kissed you, not only so he wouldn’t die but so you wouldn’t have to see this vision every time you close your eyes.

With one kiss you’d sealed his fate.

“Fuck,” He mumbled, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his breath.

You’d convinced yourself that as long as you didn’t kiss him, it would be okay— but now you’d seen the future you knew nothing would be okay.

Humans are such selfish creatures.

“Yeah, fuck.” You groaned.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Katsuki Bakugou smut #bnha x reader #bnha smut #mha x reader #mha smut #Bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #Katsuki Bakugou x you #bnha x you #mha x you

1K notes · View notes

nolita-fairytale · 11 months

Text

don't want to walk alone | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader | chapter one: june/july

summary: you and carmy plan a wedding like it's the opening of a new restaurant.

warnings: swearing, eventual smut, lots of tooth rotting fluff, marriage, no use of y/n, second person pov

wc: 3.4k

listen to: let's get married (bleachers cover) - mitski

a/n: the long awaited wedding FIC!! welcome to part four of the 'make my heart surrender' universe (four part series). this takes place a month after the end of 'still into you' but before the carmy as your baby daddy headcanon series (my carmy masterlist is organized chronologically, if you'd like to read in order). anyways, i truly adore writing for these two and feel it important to note that after watching season 2, i've realized this has just become an animal of its own -- its own universe/timeline/entity which also means there AREN'T any SEASON TWO SPOILERS! this chapter was inspired by a conversation from two months ago between me and @carmensberzattos so courtesy of us, enjoy some healthy relationship-future husband!carmy. also don't worry syd will be starring in the next chapter. i missed her too. lmk if you wanna be added or removed from the taglist.

masterlist | part two

"let's just get married, don't wanna walk alone, so let's get married, 'cause we don't wanna walk alone or runaway." (bleachers, let's get married.)

'I just want to be married to you' are the words uttered (first by you, you think, but maybe he said it first, you really can’t remember) that lead you and Carmy to the decision that you should elope. Sooner rather than later, preferably, is what you both agree on. It’s not like you’re planning on having a big wedding anyways. How much work can a civil ceremony at City Hall and a nice dinner party afterwards be to pull off?

Famous last words.

You’re not sure how you’ve gotten from there to here, locked in a heated debate over menu edits with your fiance in the middle of your shared apartment when the sun’s just barely come up, but here you are.

“I’m just saying that we should be open minded and leave room for his artistic integrity!” Carmy passionately argues, winding you up as he makes his case.

“Artistic integrity? Carmy, are you kidding me right now? I-!” you fire back, shaking your head incredulously. “We said we were gonna keep everything chill.”

“It is chill!” he defends, matter-of-factly.

Oh, he’s just looking for a fight.

“There is nothing chill about a parm espuma and it certainly doesn’t belong anywhere near the carbonara!” you scoff, stubbornly. “I mean, the only reason he even brought up the idea of a goddamn espuma in the first place is because he was trying to impress you.”

Carmy’s jaw twitches in response as he grinds his teeth, a display of discomfort at the mere thought.

“He-he was not,” he denies with the kind of conviction of a five year old toddler who's sure as can be.

You shoot him a look.

“Carmen,” you warn him.

Sure it’s a silly thing to fight about, but there’s no malice in this argument. It’s all passion, artistry, and for lack of a better term, foreplay. You let out a sigh, softening before you rise out of your chair.

“Baby, when are you going to admit that you’re kind of a big deal and that people want to impress you?” you level with him, making your way over to your very stubborn and very insistent fiance. You settle down onto his lap, before tucking a stray curl behind his ear as you break, giving the sweetest smile.

He laughs dryly, averting his eyes from you because he’s not sure how much longer he’ll be able to stand his ground (especially when you’re looking at him like that).

You’re right. And he knows you’re right.

And Carmy’s never been able to resist you for long anyways.

A fox-like grin spreads across your lips and you know you’ve won the argument when you feel a pair of hands snake around your waist.

“Don’t push it,” he warns you, seeing the look on your face as he shakes his head, finally returning his eyes to yours.

You raise an eyebrow, “You like that I push.”

He nods slowly in surrender, his face softening as he asks you:

“You really want to fight about this?”

You shake your head with a laugh.

“No, of course not! Of course, I don’t want to fight about this!” you exhale, sliding your hands over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “But I do think that your new buddy is trying to impress us and that it may be wise for us to reign him in – clear the air on what it is we’re looking for.”

A beat.

“Don’t get me wrong. Of course, we can leave room for creativity… but I don’t want our wedding party to turn into some pretentious fine dining fancy party.”

“Well, we did meet because of some pretentious fine dining fancy thing,” he points out, giving your hip a squeeze.

You giggle, “How could I forget?”

You shake your head once more, leaning in to press your lips against his. Carmy inhales deeply, enjoying the feel of your lips on his, your arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of your body on his lap.

You indulge him for a moment, deepening the kiss as you feel your future husband relax against you, because you really are happy that Carmy’s made a new friend.

Carmy had met a private chef a few months ago and had been trying to hire him for the restaurant for a while now. Wanting to work for himself, the chef had respectfully declined all advances, but he and Carmy had kept in touch, and it looked as if the relationship could potentially extend outside of the four walls of a kitchen. Since you both agreed that no one from the restaurant should work the party, it had been good timing (making a new friend and the fact that he was a private chef) and the right move for Carmy to ask his new friend to cater the wedding.

“Fine,” you resign yourself, pulling away from the kiss. “Derek can keep the liquid nitrogen but that is as far as it goes.”

Carmy shoots you a look – one that says he’s not quite convinced.

“And I will be more open minded in the spirit of… artistic integrity. But I’m not changing my mind about courses. Family style or bust, baby,” you negotiate, a serious look in your eyes.

Carmy thinks it over for a moment before finally coming to a resolution.

“Deal,” Carmy nods with the same intensity as a ‘yes, chef.’

You nod too, completing the agreement.

“I want it to be real, Carm. I want it to be us,” you reiterate, your voice soft as you make your condition loud and clear.

“I know,” he returns, just as determined and committed to the idea as he is to you.

You’re satisfied with the resolution – even more satisfied with the fact that you’ve come to it together.

“You know…” he starts, something in his voice that you can’t quite make out, unsure if you’re going to like what’s about to come out of his mouth. “... it could be a perfect menu if you just let me-.”

“Don’t even finish that sentence, Carmen!” you interrupt, knowing exactly what he was going to say.

You are so not playing this game today.

“You don’t even know what I was-!”

“Yes, I do! You are not catering your own wedding party,” you protest, adamantly.

You know him too well.

He laughs, shaking his head as he leans back against his chair, like he’s in high school again, and you’ve just caught him sneaking back into the house.

“God, I love you! But sometimes you drive me up the wall, Carm,” you groan out of frustration, eliciting another laugh from his chest as you hang your head, resting your forehead against his shoulder this time.

“Such a control freak,” you sigh, against his chest.

“Thought you like it when I take control,” he murmurs, beginning to leave kisses across your exposed skin.

You giggle partially because it tickles, and mostly because of what Carmy’s said.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

You lift your head and Carmy kisses you again, this time savoring the way your lips feel against his for a little while longer – just long enough to remind himself that he wants to have the option to sneak away in the middle of your wedding party to have sex much more than he wants cater to be in control all the time.

Sometimes, he thinks to himself, control is overrated anyways.

Only sometimes.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, letting go of the idea. “I’ll get back to Derek about final menu edits and make sure he knows that while we want him to be creative, we also want to keep it… you know….”

“Chill?” you emphasize.

“Chill,” he confirms.

“Okay. Thank you, baby,” you smile softly, trying your best to enjoy the temporary moment of peace between the two of you. Carm squeezes your hip as you roll your eyes with a sigh, muttering an:

“Oh fuck.”

“What’s up?”

You shake your head again, laughing incredulously before letting out another sigh.

“Just wait till we go through this again with the cake.”

“Fuck!” Carmy shouts towards the ceiling, throwing his head back as you laugh. “Why did we say we wanted to plan a wedding again?”

“Well baby, I don’t think either of us can pass up on a chance to create a menu,” you giggle, leaving a few kisses along his jawline before you make your way up to his nose. “Can you imagine if we decided to have a full-on wedding? That’d be a freaking mess.”

He chuckles, “It’d be like opening another restaurant.”

“Yeah, pass,” you hum, so glad to have dodged that bullet.

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

By the time you and Carmy are even ready to focus on the cake portion of said wedding-dinner-party it’s a month later. You’ve been through half of the bakeries in the city, you think, and something’s just felt off. You’re practically eating your words, as it dawns on you that you’re having the exact same thought as Carmy: that it could just be perfect if you were able to make it yourself.

Then again, you remind yourself that a cake is an entirely different thing versus running a dinner service, so it can’t be that unhinged to have these thoughts, right?

But you and Carmy made an agreement, so in solidarity, you decide it’s only fair for you to make like Tammy Wynette and stand by your man.

You’re grateful for the half day you have today (“Summer Fridays”, as it’s so fondly referred to around your office) – and the fact that you get to work from home. What it means for you is that today you can clock out early and pick up samples from the tenth bakery (okay, so maybe it’s the eleventh but truthfully, you’ve lost count) in the running for your wedding cake.

You change out of your pajamas for the first time today, throwing on a slip dress and one of Carmy’s crisp, white Ralph Lauren button downs – worn layered and open like a cardigan – before you head to the bakery, and then eventually, The Bear.

The restaurant is closed for the afternoon, as they do a shift change over: some stay and take a break, others go home, let the dinner crew come in and take over. It’s different these days and while some days you miss it – the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, the sounds of an ‘all day’ shouted by the expeditor, the careful dance that is working in a kitchen – you remind yourself that you’re enjoying a half day, and that when you’d chosen to leave, you were ready for a change.

After entering The Bear, you make small talk with Gary while he finishes turning over the dining room for dinner, catching up over the flag football league he’s recently joined – one, it seems, to be taken very seriously by all participants. You tell him that you’re here with wedding cake samples, and he’s more than eager to give you some space to set up, because who doesn’t love free cake? Mid-sentence, Gary gestures towards a table for you to set up on, as you begin to unpack your large brown paper bag.

“Well, well. Look who it is,” Marcus calls out, as soon as he sees you. “Heard a rumor you were out here. You brought cake?”

“I brought cake,” you repeat as confirmation, turning to see your dear friend and mentee. “But don’t worry. I’ll be thinking about yours the whole time.”

He snickers, moving in for a hug.

“‘S Good to see you, Chef. How ya been?” he asks, enveloping you in his arms for a tight squeeze.

“Good to see you too, Marcus. I’m good. Had a half day today so… you know, we’ve just been busy with wedding stuff. But what’s going on with you? What’s new?” you answer, turning the focus back onto him.

“Oh you know. The usual. Though, I’ve been workin’ on some new shit for Syd’s new menu when I’m not here,” he answers, a broad smile spreading across his lips as he talks about.

“Jeez, Brooks. I know, Carm’s got ya busy. When the hell do you ever sleep?” you ask, as you shake your head.

“I don’t,” he answers plainly.

And just as you’re about to remind Marcus to get some rest, Sugar comes bursting through the front doors, her rounded belly full on display now that she’s had a chance to tell almost everyone the news of her pregnancy.

“Hey! Sorry I’m running late,” Sugar says, announcing her arrival. “Got tied up running an errand and then I had to stop at the store for Tums. This baby is killing me with the heartburn these days. Fucking christ.”

“Oh, no big deal. I haven’t even seen Carmy yet,” you shrug, as she mutters a surprised ‘oh’ and Marcus mumbles something about going to get Carmy. “It’s good to see you!”

“Yo, Carm!” Marcus shouts, heading back to the kitchen while you and Sugar exchange hellos.

“Awww, it’s good to see you too, sweetie,” she smiles, pulling you in for your second hug of the day.

This is something you miss about working in the kitchen: the camaraderie, the found-family, all the love.

“Wow this is… quite the spread,” Sugar mentions, eyeing the cakes you’ve laid out on the table.

“Yeah… they had a lot of ideas, I guess,” you say with a shrug.

Sugar shoots you an unconvinced look.

“Okay, fine. I had a lot of ideas…” you admit guiltily.

“...aaaand no one is going to do it the way you want it to be done,” Sugar sighs in the middle of your sentence.

“And they were more than willing to play. I couldn’t help myself!” you finish, defending yourself.

“Well, your enthusiasm is one of the many things I love about you, but… yeah, this is a lot,” Sugar grins as she gestures towards the overwhelming amount of cake you’ve just laid out on the table.

Regardless, Sugar really can’t wait to be your sister-in-law.

“Speaking of… I thought this was just a small wedding. It looks like you’re preparing to feed the entire French Army during Marie Antoinette’s reign.”

“Oh it still is – small,” you answer, simply. “I went a little overboard, didn’t I?”

“Why go through all this trouble? You might as well have a small ceremony instead of-,”

“No!” you protest, hearing another voice say the same thing.

“Sugar, we’ve already told you that we don’t want to do anything big!” Carmy adds, as soon as he enters the dining room.

“Hey, babe,” he says, sending you the softest smile as he looks your way.

“Hey you,” you smile in return as he approaches you, giving him a short ‘hello’ peck on the lips.

“Fak attack!” Fak cries out, as he enters the dining room. “Ooooh cake tasting!”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, as Fak is quickly followed by some of the line cooks that have just wrapped up lunch service.

It’s then that you hear Tina’s voice, growling something in Spanish as Richie speaks way too loudly about god knows what, as Ebra follows behind, somehow in the middle of a story that has little to do with whatever Tina and Richie are going on about.

You smile to yourself, because you really do miss this part.

“I told everyone we were doing a cake tasting,” Carmy starts, gesturing towards the rest of the staff as they join you. “That cool?”

“Totally. We have more than enough to share,”

“That’s true,” Sugar says. "And I can't complain because the baby is reeeeaaally craving cake these days."

As everyone at The Bear crowd around the circular dining table where you set up the cake tasting, you all enjoy bites here and there, comparing notes, sharing reactions to each flavor combo.

Earl grey & lemon. A classic red velvet. And of course, you had to get a little weird with the black sesame clementine combination you’d dreamed up with the pastry chef you’d been working with.

“I think my favorite is the black sesame and clementine but I doubt it’s a cake everyone will like. Doesn’t have the crowd appeal we probably should keep in mind,” you murmur to Carmy as the two of you watch his staff go on about the tiramisu-inspired one.

“Well, babe, it’s our wedding! We can do whatever we want,” he encourages you.

“I don’t know,” you sigh, paralyzed with indecision.

“The tiramisu one is good. I’m leaning towards that,” Carmy shares with you, eager to hear your thoughts.

“Yeah, I don’t know. Don’t you think it’s a little too on the nose?” you reply, unsettled and unsure that any of these are right.

“Why don’t you guys just let me make it?” Marcus interjects, asking the question he’s been wondering this entire time.

“I-,” you start, unable to help the fact that your eyes begin to wet with emotion. “Really?”

He laughs, glancing sideways at you.

“Uh yeah. I’m a little offended neither of you did in the first place,” Marcus teases the two of you, though you know there’s some truth to it.

You and Carmy exchange a look that says something along the lines of: ‘oh shit.’

“Well, we didn’t think you’d-,” you stammer, beginning to explain the why behind you and Carmy’s hesitation in the first place.

“We just thought you’d want to- that you should be able to enjoy the party,” Carmy adds, finishing your sentence, his eyes widening as he realizes that you both kinda fucked up.

“Chefs,” he says, looking from you to Carmy once more, with a seriousness in his voice as he rises to his feet. “It would be my honor. And just because I’m makin’ the cake doesn’t mean I won’t be able to enjoy the party. I can do it in the days leading up to it.”

“Oh-, okay, yes! Yes!” you cry, leaping to your feet this time, as if you’re accepting Carmy’s proposal again.

Richie rolls his eyes in response, groaning as he mutters something snarky to Fak, as Marcus pulls you into the biggest bear hug.

“You all are a bunch of saps,” he scoffs, directing this next comment to Marcus this time. “You big softie!”

“Richie!” Sugar hisses, glaring the sharpest daggers from her eyeballs into Richie’s skull.

“Oh fuck off, Richie,” you snort, with a laugh. “You’re just salty because… wait. Carm, you haven’t asked him yet?”

“Babe, I-,” Carmy whines, his eyes wide. “You just ruined the surprise!”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah ‘fuck’ is right,” he pouts, though he can never stay upset with you for too long.

“What the fuck are you guys even talking about?” Richie asks, squinting as he looks between the two of you.

You and Carmy share a knowing look, deciding that now is a better time as ever.

“We want you to be our witness, Cousin. At the courthouse,” Carmy says, a soft intensity in his eyes as he answers Richie’s question.

“Jesus Christ,” Sugar snarks, with an eye roll as she realizes she’ll be stuck with him at the damn courthouse as well.

“Wh-?” Richie begins to ask, looking from Carmy to you, then back to Carmy again, tears welling up in his eyes as he realizes what Carmy’s just said. “You-? Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” you reply, in a well-duh kind of tone. “Plus you know I can’t get married without my Ava there.”

“And sign the marriage license and everything?” Richie balks, because he really can’t believe it.

“Yeah,” you reassure him.

“Yeah. I mean, fuck yeah! Fuck yeah!” Richie declares, even more sentimental than Marcus this time. “Shit, Cuz… Hell yeah, I’ll sign the fuck out of that marriage license as your witness.”

Tina snickers, exchanging a look with Sugar, and earning a glare from Richie. He lowers his voice, directing the question towards you this time:

“Oh and uh… cool if Ava still sings “Love Story?” I kinda promised her she could sing a Taylor Swift song as part of my best man speech and she insists that one is about you and Carmy,” Richie asks, looking around suspiciously, afraid of someone else hearing.

“Awwww, Richie. Of course,” you coo, only melting inside a little at the thought.

“What?” Richie snaps, realizing that he hasn’t been as discreet as he thought he was.

Sugar snorts in response, earning a laugh from both Tina and Marcus.

It’s Marcus’ turn to roll his eyes at Richie this time.

“What?” Richie repeats, this time with a little more annoyance in his voice.

Sugar smirks, firing back with a:

“Who’s the big softie now, Rick?”

#carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #jeremy allen white #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto headcanon #the bear headcanon #carmy berzatto imagines #carmy berzatto fluff #comfort and chaos #still into you #make my heart surrender #dont want to walk alone

771 notes · View notes

ruris-world · 1 year

Text

｡･ﾟﾟ･ My sweet oblivion. ｡･ﾟﾟ･

➳ pairing: yandere!charlotte katakuri x fem!reader

➳ summary: you adapt to your new life, and your husband shows you his biggest insecurity, your reaction surprises him.

➳ content warnings: mention of previous non-con, male mastrubation, inappropriate use of devil fruit, uhh..voyeurism? dubcon,fluff, insecurity, kinda of dom!reader/ sub!katakuri, uhh, emotional breakdown [?? idk, lol ] ooc katakuri, err marriage kink?? [ i seriously don't know ], oh! a bit of a breeding kink, a smidge of a size kink [ i mean come on, he a big boii ], emotionally vulnerable katakuri doesn’t know how how to deal with feelings, a smidge of food play, I guess implied virgin!katakuri, reader is shy yet shameless, handjob, blowjob, pussyjob, no mention of aftercare, kind of rushed ending, also first time writing actual smut

➳ word count: 8.7 k [ 8,751 ]

➳ author note: i have katakuri brainrot, and he needs some love, so it's a win-win situation. also unedited and kind of a rushed ending. Please mention any warnings I missed. Inspired by this ask. English isn’t my first language, and I accept constructive criticism and any advice :)

»»———- ♡̩͙ ———-««

It has been a while.

7 months since the wedding, maybe.

you aren’t allowed out often, the few times that you are out you are attached to him, your husband, quite literally by his mochi.

you find it ridiculous, a power that is so powerful due to its user, you saw him fight once and it wasn’t a fair fight, if you could even call it a fight.

whatever…

days tend to blend in each other, especially if its spend in just one room, sure it’s a huge room even while not compared to your ‘normal’ sized body, but there isn’t one to really keep you company.

sure, servants come and go to bring you food, clean and organize, but they don’t speak

well, not to you at least

which you also find ridiculous, you find a lot of things are quite ridiculous.

the first month was spent crying, thrashing, and escaping, trying to at least, he would always find you, or one of his siblings would.

you stopped trying to escape when he emerged from a literal mirror

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the second month was just spent…existing?

you were, are scared of him, you just spent it in a haze, you guess, you don’t remember much but you do remember the time you almost caught him with his scarf off.

It was by accident really, but before you could even glimpse at what was hidden you passed out, and woke up with an aching head, and flowers with a bunch of donuts on your side of the bed.

you didn’t really care what was under the scarf to be honest, but after that incident you went out of your way to avoid him if you even thought his scarf was off.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the third month…, was when he ‘forced pleasure’ on you.

you guess he is a man after all….

he never did anything other than use his fingers, but even that was too much for you, if you would compare it, its like using a human cock.

well, that’s a lie…

he did use his cock once, just not his real one.

can you even consider a mochi finger shaped as one, a real cock?

you don’t want to think about it.

he never force himself at you, at least not in that sense, even when the budge in his leather pants looks so tight it may just burst.

he makes sure you are cleaned on clean sheets, then he gets off in the bathroom, and sometimes he doesn’t.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the fourth month, is when you got invited to his mother’s tea-party, it was…nice, to go outside that is, the party itself was chaos.

believe it or not, you tend to fall into routine once you are kidnapped and aren’t allowed to get out of the room being held captive in.

so it was a breath of fresh air when you were let out of your room, and into the tea-party, and yes his siblings are a handful, and you are scared half to death from half of them , but it’s nice.

nothing much happened during the month, you don’t expect much.

…except that one instance.

he makes sure to come back at night, no matter how late the time is, he is always back, and he always gets up early, his side of the bed messy and the distant smell of him still present in the morning.

most of the time you are asleep when he gets back, sometimes you are not.

it was in the latter end that it occurred.

it was late at night, can borderline be considered a morning, no one is supposed to be awake, but you are

you were on your side, glimpses of a well-rested sleep taunt you as the door to the room opens, you don’t get up, you already know who it is, and you’re too tired to entertain his bullshit.

when you hear him call out to you, you don’t respond.

you would’ve called yourself foolish, if not for the fact that he doesn’t use his future-something-haki when he’s with you.

evident by the time, someone walked in when he was pleasuring you, and you never saw that servant again.

there is a rustling present, and it almost lures you back to sleep, except that he calls out to you again

you are annoyed, and very much on the verge of snapping at him, but you ignore it since you aren’t stupid, that is until you hear it

“darling, fuck—j-just like that”

is he…?

he wouldn’t…

“ah—you’re s-so—shit—so good”

would he?

“mmhm, you’re—hah—so sweet f’ me”

what are you supposed to do? do you turn around? talk? pretend to be asleep? ignore?

his pants continue mixed in with a couple of curses and groans, most of them are stifled and you hate that his voice alone sends blood rushing to your face and awaken a second rhythm within you.

you shift to test the waters, he doesn’t make an attempt to stop based on his noises, maybe you shouldn’t…

you ignore that part of you that says you shouldn’t, as the ‘squelnch, squelench, squelench’ drowns your thoughts.

you just wanna see, peek at his tip, see what the obscure sound is, surely his hands and cock aren’t the only thing that can produce such sounds, and bring him such pleasure, right?

it should be fine, right?

you’re his wife, it’s ok, right?

right?

right.

you slowly shift your body, trying not to make such ruckus that you do stop him, and his pleasure from escalating any further.

‘fuck it’ you think as you lay on your other side, eyes closed and make a sleepy sound, you hope it won’t deteriorate him or the situation.

his grunts don’t last another second, as everything around you stills, and silence fill the air, the sound of your deep breaths, and his harsh ones are the only thing present, seconds pass by and then-

hands are on your head, they trail to you cheek, and you feel one of his fingers trace lines on your cheek, and then they let go.

you don’t feel or hear anything after that, and you worry that you caused him to stop, and not reach his end.

not that you should care if he does cum or not.

that thought is interrupted by the noisy sound of slapping of his skin against something that continues, only this time faster and louder.

you are afraid to open your eyes, but that fear disappears when you hear his next words

“i’m going—fuck going to b-breed, you, be -hah- be a good w-wife and take it” accompanied by a loud moan.

all caution is out the window, as your eyes fly open, and what you see leaves you breathless and dripping.

there he is, charlotte katakuri, sweet commander, cold, merciless, the perfect brother, the man who brought you here, your captor and husband, fucking his fist.

his mochi fist, that looks like a cushion and is suspiciously moving along with his hips.

you don’t dare look up, eyes transfixed on his hips moving in and out of the cushion, his cock looks so big and you can even see its imprint —despite the dim lighting— from inside the makeshift cushion, his other hand is gripping the mochi with a death-grip, and you can only imagine what his face looks like.

you hate what the image does to you.

you hate the fact that you can feel your slick drench your panties, even more and then it occurs.

“f-fu—ck!”

holy shit.

you think you can cum from the image of him cumming alone, his hips stall in their movement as he cums, his thighs tense, yet shakes, and his cum spills into and out of the makeshift cushion or fleshlight or whatever; no other thoughts enter your mind other than that you want that thing to be you.

you almost scold yourself for the thought, but then he starts moving again and he do so with a whine you can’t watch it, you wish you could but you honestly think you would cum if you would do, so you take a deep breath and close your eyes.

that night you sleep to the sounds of him panting, and wake up to the same messy sheets with no evidence of the night prior other than the drench in your pants and an almost un-noticeable tear in his pillow.

it’s also the month when he starts to become least present.

sure he sleeps at your chambers with you, but he doesn’t visit or stay or talk, not like he used to, and you find it ridiculous.

you find it ridiculous that he makes you crave his presence, you find it ridiculous that he makes you miss him, you find it ridiculous that you cry yourself to sleep twice a week because of him.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the fifth month, you snap.

he comes in one day, it's midday if you would assume, there are no clocks in your shared room so you have no way of telling, you are reading a stupid romance that can’t catch your attention, when the door open and the ‘clink, clink, clink’ of his steps appear.

you look up at him, as he shrugs off his jacket, and wanders to your shared closet.

you would have admired his back, if you weren’t so blinded with rage, you look at the mirror, think twice, shake your head then get up from your place.

you stalk towards the closet doors in the big room, and come face-to-face with his leg, oh what did you even expect?

you look up at him, as does he look down on you, he speaks first “darling? do you require anything?”

you stare, and stare and stare, a million thoughts rush into your head, a million more you want to scream at him, in the end just tears fill your eyes.

you sniff, gather all your strength and hit his leg, he may punish you but you don’t care, you are hurt.

“why did you leave?” another hit

“who do you think you are?” another hit

“you can’t j-just—just leave me like this!” another

“what? you can’t even spend time with me?” and another

“you’re so so…selfish!” another, and another and another, and then he bends down, and you break.

your eyes are closed, sobs recks your body and fills the air, your tears fall to the ground, and you probably look like a mess right now, but you don’t care.

your breath escapes in gasps, and you feel yourself being picked up, you’re so tired you can’t even yelp.

he brings you up to him, and when you open your eyes, blurry vision can barely see past his scarf, sobs, snot, tears, and even a bit of drool are falling all over his gloved hand.

god, you are so pathetic.

before you can wallow in more self pity, his other hand come to wipe at your face, and trying to save yourself from more humiliation, you go to help him, he doesn’t let you, and you don’t have the power to fight him.

your face is flushed, and you try to calm your harsh breathing that is broken by a few sobs.

once you have calmed down enough, he speaks, voice filled with an unknown emotion “I apologize darling, I hadn’t quite thought of how my actions may affect you”

you look up at him and hold his stare, after a few moments he pats your head.

you stare off at his scarf and decide to just spit it out before you chicken out “w-will you stay with me?”

his eyes soften, and you feel your heart flutter as the words “of course, my dear” are whispered into the air.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the sixth month is…messy.

your relationship is improving somewhat, there are still awkward moments, not that you are the one to blame; after all it's not like you asked to be kidnapped.

it’s the month he lets you out the most, he takes you on walks, and strolls, he combs your hair once, well at least he tried, he makes you sleep on his chest that month, you refused at first, but he didn’t care and either way you both know that you can’t do anything about it.

you think that his chest is warm and smells like mochi, and you had asked him to take you with him when he went to do his work, surprisingly he did.

he makes you a mochi bed thingy, which you quite enjoy as it is very comfortable and bouncy. You stopped asking for it though, since he would become red in the face almost every time you did ask for one, and would sometimes leave you alone in the room.

you find being left alone ridiculous.

you find the fact that you miss him, more so.

you find yourself catching feelings, the most ridiculous fact of all.

➴➵➶➴➵➶➴➵➶

the seven month, this month is…

you are in your room, getting ready for bed, he isn’t here, however you find comfort that he would be in the morning, after all tomorrow is your anniversary, and he had made sure that he got the day off, well half-a-day but it’s better than nothing.

you are in your nightgown, about to get under the covers when he enters the room, and locks the door, which he doesn’t normally do, unless he leaves you alone in his office.

something is wrong

the air around him is tense, you can tell from the frown present on his face, and the slight rigidity of his movement confirms your suspicion that something is wrong.

you are debating whether or not to ask him when he sit on the bed, you blink and tilt your head, the question lingers in the air, you ask nonetheless “is something bothering you?”

he looks at you, you hold his stare, your frown mirrors his, it deepens when he sighs, he looks to the side.

this is new, he is usually…well, straightforward, blunt.

you sit upright when he mumble a “it’s nothing”

“katakuri…, what is it?”

he looks at you, off to the side again, back at you, closes his eyes, then sighs.

“kata—”

“I may be a monster, but I will always protect you, you may find it unpleasant, many before you have, however that won’t deter my affection for you…”

you are confused as fuck.

his eyes are on you, watching you as if you’re the only one that matters, and in that instant you feel like you are.

“it’s an unsightly matter, I will not put the blame on you, if you may wish not to view.”

what the hell does he mean?

he stops, and makes his way into the bed adjusting himself so that his face is near yours, and then he continues.

“this mark of shame that is constantly on me, i will not be saddened if you may not require to view it, again…”

you can see the intensity of emotions in his eyes, and despite all the words spewing out of his mouth, you think that you can get lost in the pretty amber.

“after all it is the reminder of my failure, a-as a brother, my imperfection…”

his hands go up into his face, you feel obliged not to look away, as if you owe him this, grips his scarf with one large hand, stays there, waits.

his breathing is hard, like he has been waiting for this moment, knows how it will end.

…and in one swift movement the barrier between the both of you is broken.

his eyes scan your face, as you do the same.

you want to laugh, honestly.

scoff at his face, and laugh at him.

for thinking all of that, and making a speech over some fangs.

it’s laughable, but you don’t.

laugh that is.

what you do is scan his face, his lips are kissable, his fangs are nice, gives him a charm about him, you wonder how they feel, are they pointy? or soft? could a nip penetrate the skin? you want to touch them, no you want them to touch you.

you want to feel them, really feel them, want to kiss them, want to feel them running down your body, want them to go up and down, want to feel them between your legs, nipping at your—

his scar stretches all the way up to his ears, and you never thought a scar could looks so attractive before, you want to kiss it, every inch of it, you want to run your hand through it, you wonder if the skin feels different there? would the texture feel different than his skin, his lips? how far is he willing to let you explore him?

you intake a sharp breath, his eyes flicker to you, right now though, right now, with his heated cheeks, laboured breath and flickering eyes, he looks so, so…

“cute.”

he blinks, you do too.

a blush.

“you’re so cute, katakuri”

your hand goes to his cheek, his eyes follows.

your thumb runs over his scar, it does feel different.

not bad…, just different.

he blinks at you, you can feel the heat rising to his cheek, when you look at him, he holds your stare for no more than a second then immediately invades it, you swore you saw a glimmer of tears there.

a few more beats and breaths, his hand stops you from touching his fangs, his eyes still haven’t caught yours.

“s-stop, it’s not—you may hurt yourse—”

his words are cut off by your hum, you can almost feel his doubt, guilt, he’s nervous, anxious, and you never wanted him more.

you slip your hands out of his, you take a large hand into your tiny ones and begin pulling it towards you as your words fill the air between you both

“you don’t believe me, hm? well, you can use your whatever haki, or…”

your eyes goes up, up, up, as the hand that you captured goes down, down, down.

“you can check for yourself…”

until it reaches below your nightgown and presses his enormous fingers into the damp spot, leaves them there.

you take a deep breath, consider your choices, this man is the one who took you, forced himself on you, you feared him for the longest time, he left you alone multiple times, felt like you were abandoned, but…

his eyes speaks volumes, there are tears and disbelief present, and that speech that left his mouth still makes it so that he is open, vulnerable

you want to take care of him, eventhough….

ah, fuck it, you think and then speak.

one.

two.

three.

“…my dear husband”

he intake a sharp breath, and stills, you swear you could see his eyes darken, his fingers push where you left them, which makes a surprised moan leave your lips.

and then you pull yourself up into him, your hands are on his cheek, a few beats then he looks at you, a frown on his face.

you pay it no mind as your lips crash into his.

a beat, then another, and another, then he responds, and oh, does he respond.

its inexperienced, messy, your lips don’t mold together, but god is it satisfying.

you don’t think you have been kissed like this before, you don’t think you will ever be kissed like this again, and in that moment you don’t think you mind it so much.

at first it's slow, then escalates and escalates, and then there is tongue, and spit, and drool, and teeth, and fangs.

you find out that the fangs do break skin, well at least the ones on your lips.

a beat, and a second, then a third, your heart throbs against your ribcage, and escalates until you are almost sure that he can hear it, you want to stay there forever, trapped into an infinite kiss but alas you are a human and you need oxygen.

you pull back, he chases after you, trapping you again against him, you smile, pull back, want to tease him yet his hand pushes your head pressing into him, he wants more and more and more.

he is greedy.

he is insatiable.

he is selfish.

but only with you.

only for you.

you put your hand on his jaw, he jolts, you break free, with only a string of spit trapping you to him.

pants escapes you, making you breathe harder, and harder, he isn’t in a better state than you, in fact you would say he is in a worse state.

drool escaping from the side of his open mouth, face flushed till his neck, you can swear there are hearts in his eyes, along with unshed tears—your heart clenches at the sight.

your lips brush against his, and he almost captures you again, if not for the grip you have on his hair, one tangled in his now messy hair, another grabbing at the nape of his neck, he groans as the grip you have on him causes you to pull on his hair.

he presses his fingers into you, both of you are playing a dangerous game.

none of you mind.

“wait, kata…lay on your back.”

his eyes that were previously glazed with a haze clear a bit, yet there is a confused frown on his face.

“huh? b-but you—”

“shh, kata, let your wife take care of you for a split second, and relax.”

“come on, katakuri…” a peck on his lips, “be a good husband and lay on your back” another peck, this time near his fangs, “let me make you feel good” another peck, this time on his nose, his eyes flutter close at the contact.

with a groan he gets off you, and lays on his back on the bed, you follow after him, straddling his heaving chest.

your hands slowly travel along his abdomen, towards his pecks, slowly trace over each nipple, lingering there and then escalate towards his neck, to his jaw which is slack open for you, his eyes continue to follow each movement as your hands stay at his jaw a bit further.

you dully note that a past you would call you ridiculous, what you are doing is ridiculous, would probably shout at you, tell you that you shouldn’t do this with your kidnapper, the man who strike so much fear inside you, the man who hurt you for far too much, that you should hurt him just as much, and even if it was a lie call him ugly, disgusting, a monster.

you leave that part behind you whenever you press your lips to his jaw, trailing pecks over there, he jerks in your hands, you guess he is pretty sensitive there.

you hum, with a smile, and whisper in his ear “what’s wrong kata? did i hit a spot?” he shudders in response, and you get more wet at the thought that a man so big, powerful, and beefy is reduced to a shuddering and blushing mess with just a few touches.

Katakuri has no idea how to feel, or process the situation before him.

He didn’t expect your response in a million years, and the mere thought that you not only said those words but continued to mark him with your wet kisses and wandering hands makes his head spin.

and while surprise and bashfulness full him and heat his cheeks at the way you called him your husband—the tone, the hidden emotion, and the way you looked at him—he can’t deny that it turned him on, immensely.

perhaps he should feel more grateful for you and your reaction, however he can’t help feeling that maybe you do deserve to feel some level of disgust at viewing his face, that maybe you should have screamed, or that maybe you should have—oh

“Fuck”

“Hmm? now tell me dear husband of mine—” he almost whines “—where have i lost you”

he flushes more under your gaze that captures him feels like it will swallow him whole, it's lustful and full of want, he duly notes the effect you have on him, and that a past him wouldn’t be so appreciative that he is allowing himself to be weak and vulnerable.

but that’s ok.

because the past him doesn’t have you around.

because the past him doesn’t have you kissing down his tattoos.

because the past him doesn’t have you whispering hushed praises about him.

because the past him doesn’t have your lips kissing and licking down his body.

because the past him doesn’t have you willingly blushing and fumbling as you ascend his body.

because the past him doesn’t have you, just you, so tiny, and exposed to him.

his hands flex at his sides as you kiss down his happy trail, leading you to his prominent bulge that's straining against his leather pants.

you hum and look at him through your lashes, his breath catches in his throat, god he’s so weak for you, its almost pathetic.

Almost.

your tiny fingers go to his belt, trying to free him, yet as you fumble with the skull on his belt, his hands come to join you, he’s hesitant, you note “can you help me?” you encourage him and the blush is consistently increasing down his neck as he whispers a “yes”

you let go and watch in fascination the way his hands quickly and masterfully unbuckle his belt, then proceeds to remove his pants, your hands flies to his, “take those off too” you motion to his gloves.

he nodes then does as he is told, and you inspect them, you know how they feel, but seeing every little detail in them? appreciating how his hands are much bigger than yours? how are his fingers longer? knowing they could reach spots you never dreamed of experiencing?

god, they were pretty, looked calloused and rough, like they have texture, and the veins that ran down them, you could drool.

your thighs unconsciously rub against each other to gain some friction, but you remind yourself that this isn’t about you, it's about him.

“kata, kata, you’re so pretty..”

his closes his palms at that, and flexes them open, you can’t help it, your hands go to grab his fingers and bring them to your lips “can i?”

“yeah.” he says the word breathless, and you don’t wait a second before you put two fingers into your mouth, both of you groan at the contacts. Your hands goes to hold his hand and guide more of his fingers into your wet cavern, you suck on them and run your tongue under them, as response he presses on your tongue, weighing it down, you moan at the feeling, dragging his fingers backwards and forth, a few more times until you feel harsh breaths blowing into your face, you open your eyes that you haven’t even realised you closed, to meet amber ones.

Katakuri’s eyes were wide blown, watching the way your mouth sucks his fingers off like its a cock, and the way you seem like the simple act of having his fingers in your mouth has brought you pleasure, he couldn’t help it, he normally has enough self-restraint, but it was like his fingers had a mind of their own.

you are taken aback by the taste of a mochi-like substance that suddenly erupts in your mouth, and you stare at him yet find his gaze distracted at the way his fingers escape your mouth to make the liquid dribble down your chin and into his leather pants.

You swallow what you could of the liquid, and he watches with eyes of a predator as it gobbles down your throat, you lose yourself for a moment in his face, and once again you are captured by the beauty of the man infront of you.

Katakuri can feel the heat of your cunt on him, and the realization that he is the one who got you all hot and bothered turn him on more than he cares to admit, he can feel the weight of your gaze on him, and when his eyes flicker to you, he is stunned by you for a second, and just when he is about to be captured in your spell again its broken by your small “hi”, and he thinks you never looked more adorable than this, so flustered and tiny, cute little gasps escaping you, and the way you keep fidgeting around.

“Hey” his voice rumbles, a rare smile crossing his face, and the giggle that you let escape warms his heart a bit more.

The wholesome moment is yet again interrupted, by the gasp he lets out as you adjust yourself directly into his bulge, and the shocked expression, followed on by the smirk on your face lets him know that he’s in for real.

You continue your previous actions, and pull down your kata’s pants, he helps you by raising his hips and then continuing to pull them down further down, and yet again you are infatuated with the man below you. The way his thighs are flexing and twitching, they looked so muscular and you find yourself wanting to bite them, kiss them, and worship them, yet the only thing that you find more delicious is the way the now much larger bulge is wet, you’re not even sure if a man can spare that much pre, without cuming.

You wont lie, you are intimidated by his size, that isn’t fully revealed, yet you find yourself strangely aroused, you’re not even sure why, thus before you can back out, you pull down his boxers, and your jaw drops.

The way he almost slaps your face as he springs up, only to be hung down by the sheer weight of him, the way he has veins running up and down his shaft, the way he is continuously twitching and the way he throbs, the angry red tip that is all but leaking delicious pre, all that and more makes a second rapidly fast heartbeat in you awaken, and all you can think is that you want him i– no.

you need him inside you.

“Darling, y-you don’t have to do this if you–oh fuck” he is cut off by your mouth leaching on his tip, and sucking on him, you can’t fit him inside you, yet you hollow your cheeks and push more of him into you.

Katakuri is convinced he has died and ascended to a heaven-like place for monsters like him, not only is he feeling toe-curling pleasure, he is receiving it all from you, and katakuri has never felt more loved as he does now.

Laying on his back, with you pleasuring him, and both of you having such a vulnerable yet intimate moment, he would have never imagined this the day that you came into his life, not by the way you reacted at first, screaming and thrashing all around.

No, he was fully prepared to live all his life loving you while you hated him and despised him, you are his everything, and as he gasps at the way you littered him with kisses, all wet and sloppy, he can swear that he has never felt more loved and in love than in this moment.

You lick up the pre from the underside of his cock all the the way to his tip, where you kiss it, before smearing some on your lips, you lick your lips as you watch the way your hands continue to pump him, he’s so big, both your hands can’t even fit around him.

“You taste so good kata, like mochi” you giggle at the sound that escapes him at that statement, before going back to licking and sucking him, one hand goes to his balls, while the other sneaks its way to rub at your embarrassingly wet panties.

You close your eyes shut, as you hear the few groans that he lets out, his mouth otherwise covered by his hand, you would have told him to let you hear him, if you couldn’t feel that he was close.

You try your best to relax your throat, its painful you won’t deny but you know you will be rewarded with the sight of him cumming, so you push through, you force your muscles to relax, to fight the discomfort, you bring both hands to stroke his twitching length, you try what you know, your drool and his previous pre helps serve as lube.

Your eyes snap to him, intent on watching him climax, katakuri’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, his mouth is covered by one hand, drool escaping the side of it, his other hand gripping the pillow beside his head so hard that you worry about it for a moment, yet the best treat of all is his eyes, rolled to the back, and if the light focused just right you could see the tears mark down his flushed cheeks.

it’s all too much for you, and yet it proves the same for him as his hips suddenly jolts, with a keen moan–more like a whimper of your name–and then he cums, it’s sweet, yet thick and is too much, your eyes water trying to swallow as much as you possibly can, however it proves futile as after a few seconds you’re getting off him, choking and gasping for air, you try to get your breathing under control, and when you do, it’s when he just finished cumming.

Katakuri does not recall what happened the moment his orgasm has him, all he know is that the pleasure was too much, and then he was seeing stars, he barely registers the sound of choking, nothing but pleasure that he never has felt before registers in his veins, it’s as if every fibre of his being is experiencing it, and he thinks he passed out for a few moments, he cannot recall.

All katakuri knows is that by the time his eyes are opened again, he feels at easy yet so ridiculously sensitive for the first time in his life he doesn’t have the words to describe how he feels, only that he was feeling an after-glow of pleasure he can’t comprehend however that was contracting the look on your face, your eyebrows are crossed in a frown, and you had your hands holding the side of his face.

your thumb rubbing his cheek, which was a weird sensation, not unpleasant…just different; he feels exposed, like he is showing something meant to be a secret to everyone and everything around him, yet he never more close to you than at that moment, and he quite liked that, he liked having you and him alone, intimate, vulnerable together, to be able to indulge in each other like this has to be a blessing, or divine intervention to have an angel like you gifted to him.

“You’re drooling, kata”

He didn’t think he had the energy to blush even more, nevertheless you prove him wrong once again in the same night, yet the sound of your laughter makes it worth the temporary embarrassment, without him noticing a smile stretch into his face, he feels safe and content with you.

But then he remembers, “darling?”

“Kata” he can hear the smile in your voice, he takes both hands in his, and your smile flatters a bit, “what’s wrong? Did you not like it?”

He shakes his head, before pressing his lips to your palms, he’s careful not to graze you with his fangs. “No, i did, i enjoyed it quite a lot, frankly”

“Then what's wrong, do you-”

“Darling, rest, i just…”

“Hm?”

“Well, i–you, i want to return the favour…i need to make you feel good” he feels like a fool, stumbling over his words like that.

“...you don’t have to do that”

“No, I want to, I need to bring you pleasure, as the one you have brought upon me, only if you are comfortable with that too. darling , do you want this?”

“Yeah” it's breathless, the way you say it, just like he previously did and the way your lips are, it’s like every movement you make is to tempt him, tease him, it feels like a trap, and even if it was, he would gladly fall into one, if it's for you but now, now he wants to kiss you.

So he does.

You’re surprised for a moment, and he thinks that he did something wrong, before you respond back, with the same intensity. It's passionate, full of electricity and emotion, it's like two lovers have met after a long time. It's pleasant, but then it’s not. It quickly escalates, until it’s all drool, teeth and tongues clashing with each other, it’s like taking a bite out of a forbidden fruit, something that you know is wrong yet feels good, too good, both of you want more, so more you take of each other, until the moment you can’t go longer with oxygen is reached.

God, this must be the millionth time you kissed him tonight, yet you can’t get enough; you want to makeout with him forever, his lips are addicting, and the way his fangs feed that addiction is unmeasurable.

Somehow during that process katakuri managed to get rid of your nightgown, you don’t even notice until you feel one of his hands creeping up your back, and that sends signals down your spine.

The way his fingers are delicately running up and down your back, and fiddling with the strap of your bra leaves goosebumps down their path that you are sure he can feel, you would be too occupied with the thought of that if it weren’t for his lips that are moulding against yours.

You let out a gasp that is swallowed by his tongue, as he manages to get you out of your bra, he keeps a hand on your hips, holding you still with one and the other one goes to your cheek pulling you away but not before ending it with a peck on your lips, you try to deepen it drunk off the taste of him but he doesn’t let you, instead he chuckles at the whine you let out and the sound goes straight to your core.

“patience, pretty…” his voice is sharp, deep, and sends tingles all over your body, the ability of his voice and the entirety of him that has a hold on you can’t be denied any longer, no matter what you try it always catches up to you.

katakuri ‘s thumb rub over your bottom lip, teasing you, everything stalls for a moment, it's like there’s only you and him, he looks majestic like this, almost heavenly, the way his amber eyes are gazing at you, almost devouring you, and then the cold air hits you, and you realize your bra has abandoned you, almost instantaneously his eyes widen with an emotion your brain cannot decipher.

Your hands go to cover yourself, suddenly feeling shy and bashful under his intense gaze, he doesn’t say anything for what felt like forever, until he grasps both of your wrists in one broad hand, and rubs circles into the back of your hand.

The other hand still trapping you against him, almost like he needs you two to be close, intertwined with each other, desiring you, becoming selfish and indulging himself for once, and yet he will be selfish, if it's with you, never once daring to think of a warm embrace, a chance to rest, to be vulnerable with no judgement, he needs you, and you need him. It’s a simple fact, yet one that seems as a sin, and yet, yet…if a monster like him is to be able to serve you, bring you pleasure, will it be less of a sin?

“Darling, don’t hide from me..” he sounds almost hurt, as if the mere thought of you thinking you’re undesirable brings him pain, as if you’re anything less than perfect, the mere thought of you not seeing yourself as he sees you, not being treated like you deserve to be makes a flame lit inside of him, he needs to show what he sees through his eyes when he dares lay his gaze on you, and he starts by pulling your hands away.

The hand on your hips brings you further into his chest while the other lets go of your hands, not before placing a kiss on each of them, your hands land uselessly into his pecs, as his mouth graze the tender flesh on your breast, hesitantly he begins placing kisses there before taking a nipple into his mouth, the euphoria you feel from such a simple act causes your hands to press down on him, and such a simple act makes you feel a heartbeat raising under your touch.

He gains courage the longer he keeps nursing on you, one hand is already playing with your other nipple, teasing you as he rolls it in-between his fingers, he’s good at this, almost too good. A choked moan escapes you at a particularly hard twist accompanied by sharp fangs scraping your skin, it’s too much and yet not enough, your hands somehow found their way into his hair, pulling at him, and you feel rather than hear the growl that follows your actions.

“katakuri, please” your voice comes out more pathetic than you would like, yet you don’t have time to dwell on it, as he releases the bud from his mouth with a ‘pop’.

He leaves a wet kiss into your other nub before whispering against it “no one else likes seeing me like this” Your hands grips his hair harder, pulling him away from your chest, his eyes unhoded and hazed with lust takes a moment to adjust to yours, ignoring the way his saliva and cool air makes your nipples stand hard you took in a shaky breath to arrange your thoughts.

“…stop” you don’t know what else to say, this is the same man who kidnapped you, and took you by force, and yeah sure your feelings for him developed into something, but it’s complicated.

it’s within your right to be upset at him, you should curse him and after all the things he had done to you, be ingratiated to be within his vacenitg yet you can’t bring yourself to do it, you look at him and his eyes stare back at you.

There it is again, that look in his eyes, it makes you want to scream, why? why? why?

You can feel tears brim near your eyes, he blinks at that once, twice, “stop, just stop!” it comes out more than a sob than you would like, yet you can’t do anything about it, you don’t want this, you don’t—

Katakuri’s lips are on yours, his knuckles brushing against your cheeks, other hand on your back, pushing you more into him, fitting like two pieces of a puzzle, connected, pulling away just to whisper sweet nothings against your lips, apologizes spill from him, and continue doing so as his kisses trail down your jaw and into your neck, his fangs scraping along them, neither painful nor pleasurable, just applying pleasure.

You gasp as wet kisses are being planted into your collarbone and descending further downwards, yet not fast enough, large large hands busy themselves by pushing you into him, other hand hovering on your thighs, hesitant, before grabbing a handful of them.

“kata, please…” It's amazing how a couple of words can make your husband snap, as soon as these words are let out into the air, his grip on you tightens where it can almost be considered painful.

He drags you closer to him, and the feeling of countless hard years of training runs deliciously against your clothed cunt. Your moan is wet and full of sound as the first real friction of the night is received by you. Familiar fingers push your ruined panties to the side before proding against your entrance, they move slowly coating themselves in your juices before plunging into you.

The wanted touch of his makes your back arch, and suddenly your back hits the mattress, and his mouth is on your nipples again, it’s all too much stimulation, the way his fingers is constantly moving in and out of you, the way his tongue leaves marks and kisses everywhere, the hold he has on your hip bone preventing you from running away from his ministrations.

Too much.

Too much pleasure, it's almost painful.

And yet.

Yet you want more.

Need more.

Your thoughts are in a jumbled mess, and it takes way more effort than you would care to admit to speak, still you do; because as his desire for you is insatiable, so is yours for him.

“W-wait, wait, please stop!” his hands stall almost immediately, he detaches his lips from your body, and his hand is again in your cheek rubbing soothing circles into your cheek, which you lean into, before meeting his gaze.

It’s full of worry, his brows furrowed, a pout on his flushed lips—really all of him is— before asking in a whisper, as to not startle you “are you alright, darling? have I gone too much? Do you want to stop? We don’t have to–”

You feel bashful under his gaze, and the way he is so concerned for you, you try to regulate your breath, but you want it so bad, need it in you. “Hah- god no…no, no, I-I wanna cum on your cock…”

“Darling.., I–We can’t…”

Katakuri feels bad for the frown on your face, he doesn’t want to deny you it saddens him and as he watches a frown settles on your face, your lower lips wobbles, it pains him to see you like this and he is ready to apologize again, offer you another option to bring you pleasure as the one you brought him, yet his thoughts are interrupted again by you.

“We– you don't have to put it in…” your voice is small, mumbled but he is sure that he had heard you, he is confused for a moment before you say again, your voice wavering “you.., I can just rub it against me..” your hands immediately goes to your face.

He doesn't say anything, too stunned to say anything, his mind is running around trying to figure out how that will be possible.”We–we don’t have to do it…it’s ok, just forget I said anything” God, he really is terrible at this whole thing, however he won’t let his inability to express himself to you get in his way.

“Yes.” you sniffle and peek between your fingers to look at him “Whatever you want, just show me how to please you and I will.” The way he says those words makes your heart skip a beat and butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You whine as he pulls your hands away from your face, he kisses them as an apology, before his breath hits your face, “whatever you want…” he whispers, so genuine and full of emotion that you almost burst out crying, but you don’t, and the only thing that manages to slip out of you is a tiny “uh-huh”

He pecks your lips, and looks at you expectantly “lay back” he does as he is told, slowly manoeuvring his way so he is sitting with his back to the headboard. His cock is semi hard, laying on his stomach twitching every other second.

Katakuri watches you intently as you fix yourself on top of him, keeping a hand near your hips to support you whenever you need it.

Your hands go to grab his cock, coaxing a bead of pre from him, his groan makes you clench, impatiently wanting to have him against you.

“Hah, you can touch katakuri, help g-guide me” you say breathing harshly, it’s not like you can go around his whole length by yourself, you need some form of assistance.

His hands grab your hips, thighs spreading widely to accompany his size, helping you align yourself with his cock. Your clit is swollen and twitching, desperate for some sort of stimulation, his precum serves as lube mixing in with both of your juices.

Your hands are on his abdomen searching for stability before you make contact with him, an embarrassingly large moan a result of that

The drag of him feels heavenly, your eyes don’t tear away from the sight of where the both of you are mixed, your lips are spread open, you can feel every vein on his shaft, every throb of him, the entirely of him, you slid easily against him, the pre of him helping you in accomplishing that.

Your breathing is harsh, biting your lips to conceal your moans before wet lips press against yours, you gasp unsuspecting of your husband's actions, before reciprocating trying to shove and mold your tongue against him

He pulls away just just for you to chase after him missing the familiar warmth, he doesn’t let you, capturing your jaw in his hands, cupping them before breathing into them, you’re practically breathing each into each other and sharing the same breath.

“Please…” you’re not above begging and thus you find yourself with a thumb in your mouth and his dark voice whispers into your ear “don’t hide, darling, speak to me, let me hear you…” you don’t think, you just nod, desperate to have him against you again “i need to hear you say it darling…”

“I-I won’t hide…just please” He can never deny you, your head is thrown back yet you can feel his gaze on you, moans escape both of you—an indicator and reassurance of the pure bliss and ecstasy you both are feeling.

He guides your hips making you feel the drag of your clit, so puffy and desperate against his cock, feels like paradise to you, the only thing that would feel better is having him inside of you—but that’s for another time.

You’re enthralled to have him like this, countless nights you have been spending thinking of a moment like this, with him, charlotte katakuri.

Your husband.

You can feel the coil in your stomach reappearing, you won’t last long—that you know, yet as you look down on your panting husband you feel the need to hold off your orgasm a bit longer, in hopes of seeing him cum.

His face is concentrated, and all scrunched up, the warmth of your cunt against his frustrated cock is nothing like he had imagined, and he distinctly notes that he can’t go back to a mochi cushion after feeling you since he can never replicate the feel of your pussy, something so divine.

Any sense of rationality katakuri has disperse as he hears your voice, high pitched, whiny and desperate—so heavenly to him “I’m gonna cum, please, wan’a cum, fe—ah!—feels good”

Your hands dig into his skin, and his speeds up, frustrated desire accompanies him, intent on watching you unfold before his eyes, he can feel his end too, never imagining something like this could feel so good.

“Go ahead and let go” and just like that with a broken moan the coil in your stomach snaps, it feels beyond heavenly to be rewarded after such a long time, and katakuri keeps you upright with a hand while the other still stimulates you, makes you ride off your orgasm and he keeps going even your orgasm washes over you in waves, it’s too much stimulation for your brain and body, no coherent thoughts are present in your body “too much, ‘s moree pleaseee….”

“Fuck.” with a curse word that seems too improper for your husband, he manages to cum for the second time of the night, semen splattering all over his stomach, his grip on your is the only thing keeping you stable from falling into his heaving chest.

The afterglow of your orgasm basks you into sleep, you’re sure when you wake up in the morning your body will be filled with bruises and an ache in your muscles, but you can’t seem to focus on that with the way your husband’s voice lures you to sleep, baking you and consuming you whole.

“Darling, you did so good, I didn’t hurt you, did I? Was I too rough? Do you require a—“

“Mhmm, want you..please, don’t leaveee…”

“Never.”

“Mhmm”

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

current status: unedited

©ruris-world 2022 — do not copy, plagiarize, repost or translate my works to any platform! reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated

2K notes · View notes

alicewonderao3 · 7 months

Text

Marry Me

Title: Marry Me

Characters: Aaron Hotchner, reader, OC male character.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader, fem!reader x oc male character.

Summary: When it's finally the day of her wedding, after months of planning, why does she feel like she's making the biggest mistake of her life? Isn't every bride second guessing herself, even on her wedding day?

Warnings: None, just a bit angsty and then fluffy.

Author's note: I had the idea for this earlier this week, while I've been recovering from my hospital trip last week. I was inspired by a song, as usual, Thomas Rhett's 'Marry Me'. My muses said to write this and here it is. I have no beta, so all spelling and grammar mistakes are mine, and I just finished it, so let me know what you think.

The day of the wedding was finally here, sunny and warm. Everything was as it was supposed to be. My grandfather was preaching the wedding service and there were plenty of magnoila's everywhere. It was a small wedding, not too many people. But something didn't feel right. It had been this niggling sensation in the back of my mind for months.

My bridesmaids all told me I was crazy, that I was marrying the perfect man. On paper, Steve was perfect. He was tall, and handsome, with blonde hair and blue eyes. He was kind and sweet. Sure, you were supposed to feel sparks, but it didn't always happen, right? My friends told me I'd be crazy to say no to his proposal, so even though I had doubts, I said yes.

I said yes, even as I felt that same feeling in my stomach at my engagement party and my bridal shower. I'd sometimes look down at my ring and my stomach would turn as if I was repulsed by the large diamond ring. My mother told me I'd be crazy to not marry him. But that feeling was still there, and it was even more present this day, standing in my wedding dress, pacing back and forth.

I couldn't get Aaron out of my head. Aaron and I had been friends for forever. He was an FBI agent, tall, handsome, and funny, with brown eyes that sparkled when he teased me and when he laughed. He knew my favorite color and the way I drank my tea. He knew everything about me and I knew everything about him. I couldn't get that night he'd almost kissed me before I met Steve out of my head, that night we spent walking downtown, how he'd paused in the park under that big magnolia tree, and how he'd almost kissed me. I'd never felt such sparks before, never felt so strongly before.

The sparks had always been there, but it was always a case of wrong timing. I remember when he was dating Haley Brooks, and I'd been single, and then I'd be dating someone and he'd be single. All of my friends were dating people, and getting married.

I was pacing back and forth when my dad walked in, a box in his hands. I recognized the tie-dye shirt wrapped around it, a shirt I bought Aaron one summer as a joke gift, but one he loved. It had its place of pride amongst the suits he wore as an FBI agent. Seeing it, wrapped around whatever gift he'd got me, was like a death sentence. It was like the ending of what could be.

I bit back my tears and hesitantly let my dad walk me towards the aisle, but the closer we got the more my nerves increased, and the more I sensed I was doing the wrong thing. I kept panicking and as the opening notes started to play, I took a deep breath and held my flowers and I couldn't do it. I stood there, as everyone stared at me. My eyes met Steve's at the end of the aisle and I realized, I loved Aaron. He loved me.

I glanced down at the large and gaudy ring I wore and met my dad's eyes. He gave me a concerned look and watched as I slipped the ring off, sliding it into his hand. "Tell him I'm sorry?" I said, and he nodded. Then, as everyone gasped, I dropped the too-large bouquet I didn't even like and ran out. I knew right where he'd be, and Dad had pressed his car keys in my hands as I ran out.

I drove there, speeding and praying I wouldn't get pulled over. His car was there, in the parking lot and I ran, faster than I'd ever run before down the paths, in my wedding dress, past people who stared at me until I stopped short of the tree. There he was, standing under the tree, looking wrecked.

He turned around and his eyes met mine. He held his hands up, a shocked look on his face and I started crying, shrugging as my hands landed on my face before I ran to him, launching myself into his arms, and he held me without question. His arms were strong and warm around me as I sobbed into his chest.

"What are you doing? You should be getting married," He said, his voice warm but full of shock as he held me. "I can't, Aaron," I whispered, tears thick in my voice. He was silent for a moment, as he pulled back to look at me. "Why not?" He asked, as one of his thumbs reached up to wipe my tears away.

"Because it felt wrong from the start. Because I'm an idiot for not realizing that I wanted to get married, but that I didn't want to marry Steve. It's you, Aaron. I've been in love with you for years now, and I'm the biggest-" But then his lips descended on mine, and I whimpered as he kissed me, holding me tight as everything suddenly felt right.

Kissing Aaron was like the final puzzle piece being fit into place. Everything felt right again. My world, which had felt so off-center in the months since Steve proposed, now felt right again. I pressed close to him, my lips remaining on his, until we both pulled away to breathe heavily. "I know I'm a big dummy and I should have trusted my gut and said no to Steve, but I'm here. I ran away from my wedding and I'm here."

Aaron hadn't spoken yet, he'd just been listening to me ramble and he pressed his hand to my lips. "Hey, hey," he said, his voice soft. "You're here now. All that other stuff, we'll figure out later. You were always a little slow on the uptake, but you got it. I love you." He'd whispered and I nodded, as I cried again. "I love you too, Aaron Hotchner. I'm sorry it took us so long to get our timing right."

He didn't say anything else, he just leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, kissing me like his life depended on it. I knew I'd have a lot of people to talk to in the next few days, but right now, standing here under the shade of the magnolia tree where I'd had my almost first kiss with Aaron, his lips pressed to mine, everything was right. As long as I had him in my life, things would be okay. I can handle whatever the world throws at me as long as he's by my side.

#aaron hotchner 💞#criminal minds #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner imagine #angst and then fluffy

91 notes · View notes

txttletale · 8 months

Text

bundletober #11: locum tendons

i really need to stop getting these up so late. god. tomorrow ill have my bundletober done at a regular time i've just had a weird day. anyway locum tendons is a game about devouring your double by elijah raine.

what a silly pun. locum tendons. come the fuck on. no just kidding i love it obviously. it's become a running theme this month and i'll always say it again: you can instantly endear me to your game with a razor-sharp premise. i'm on board from reading this paragraph. let's see if the game can keep me.

you have two stats, as a flesh-devouring doppleganger: your Deception (ability to pretend to not be a the thing from the thing) and Consumption (your ability to make a big mouth like the thing from the thing and eat somebody). this is a bit of a missed opportunity for flavour¹ because i think these stats could have been named something a bit more evocative--'deception' and 'consumption' are just kind of bland and plainly descriptive. aw well. they're inversely proportional--each party member (or, as the game suggests, each two or three) that you eat makes you stronger but also makes the party more suspicious.

other than rolling these two stats (it's a dice pool affair, using caltrop core's d4s) the main mechanic is 'fear', a stat that tracks up every time you fail or partially succeed on a role. if 'fear' gets too high while there's more than one victim left, the game ends--either in fleeing or death. i like that little detail, just because i'm always a fan of non-death outs for characters roleplaying games ever since blades introduced the concept to me.

other than that, there's a couple random tables. disappointingly, one of them is just for stock unlikeable adventurer characters--and maybe this is just because i'm immersed in the fantasy genre and TTRPG stuff and that whole cultural millieu but it really seems like something that anyone could have come up with.

like, i've seen every one of these done a million times. since i'm way too young for the height of drizzt and his ilk i'm honestly more familiar with these subversions than the original stock fantasy adventurers they're meant to be undermining. and familiar is the last thing i want from my random tables--random tables are peak 'game as co-author' for me and i want them to push me to places i wouldn't go myself. it especially hurts locum tendons because it's a one-page RPG, so this table represent a non-insignificant chunk of space used here! i'd have much rather had a table of possible origins for our player character shapeshifting flesh devourer! once more, missed opportunity. the other table, listing locations / setups for contrived one-by-one murderathons, is quite a bit better. i really like the 'at a wedding' suggestion, makes the player characters that much more villainous and creates an opportunity for great drama.

all in all locum tendons is competently put together on the dependable bedrock of caltrop core and has a strong concept, but it just doesn't quite commit enough. it's not immersed enough in the aesthetic that the name promises, it doesn't go full john carpenter, and i think that's ultimately to its detriment. there's a lot there, but it just doesn't fit it all together within the tight constraints that one-page design puts on a game.

locum tendons is available for purchase as a digital download through itch.io ¹teehee

#tattletxt #bundletober 2023 #ttrpg

68 notes · View notes

evankinard · 3 months

Text

okay I promised my full deranged buddie s7 spec so walk with me here

imagine we start the season, its a couple weeks/months after the bridge collapse, and bobby and athena have just left for their cruise. cut to buck and eddie and buck seems kind of sad/dejected for some reason but no one knows why and eddie is riding the high of starting dating again and taking his shot with marisol. then chris drops the bombshell that he's dating on eddie and asking him for advice and eddie starts panicking because what the hell does he know about women he very spectacularly ran off the last two and the night's still young with marisol. so he goes to buck, because its chris and buck always has the answers with chris and anyway buck may suck at keeping a girlfriend but he's good at the dating part and he has natalia now and he seems so sure about her so clearly he's doing something right. and buck says yes, of course he's gonna say yes, it's chris, but while chris is asking all these questions about love, and dating, and how do you know when you really like someone and what do you do when you like someone like that, buck is answering them but the weird kicked puppy air keeps clinging to him and he sounds wistful if nothing else. and toward the end of the episode, he admits to eddie that him and natalia broke up. he dodges the question of why no matter how anyone asks throughout the rest of the season.

the rest of the cruise ship arc goes by and then its ep 100 and HOWEVER it happens (maybe its tommy, maybe its anything else I actually have no spec for this part) buck starts questioning his sexuality or just plain going "why the fuck not clearly I'm doing something wrong with the way I've been going about dating maybe its the fact that they've all been women" and starts thinking about dating men. he talks to eddie about it and eddie starts feeling some type of way but tries to be supportive anyways (and then immediately goes to bobby and begs for a transfer which is why bobby tells him he can't tell him how to feel about the job. jk but i actually have no idea where that line fits into any of this or what its about so we're ignoring it). eddie and marisol are still doing perfectly fine and going on casual dates atp.

then ep 5 rolls around, which looks like a pretty shenanigans filled episode, so it could mostly have nothing to do with the rest of the plot or it could have some of that underlying tension festering between buck and eddie, especially with a name like "you don't know me"

now starting with episode 6 I'm not totally decided where this spec plot would go but it can go a couple different ways. if episode 6 is the bachelor party episode only and there's no actual wedding the tension could just keep building OR there's actually gonna be a Moment. maybe nothing happens or maybe they get drunk and wake up in the same bed but even if they do they immediately start freaking out or avoiding each other and not acknowledging it. either way, the wedding will happen. it will be chaotic and insane and beautiful and by the end of the night buck is standing in his sad little corner watching everyone when hen or maddie comes up to him and he will finally admit that the reason why natalia broke up with him was because she knew he's in love with eddie. maybe eddie's also looking back at him or maybe he's glowing, twirling marisol around on the dance floor.

ORRRRRRR

nothing actually happens between buck and eddie after buck comes out. eddie and marisol break up sometime before the wedding/bachelor party for seemingly unrelated reasons. the bachelor party and wedding go off with several hitches but none involving buck and eddie's relationship. and then the next morning they wake up in bed together à la chandler and monica getting together in Friends.

#are there several holes in every single aspect of this #yes but mind your own business #the entire purpose of this post is so that I have all of my delusions in writing either to clap or point and laugh at once the season start #911 spoilers #lmao #911 abc #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #911 speculation #weewoo brainrot

49 notes · View notes

sil-te-plait-tue-moi · 2 years

Text

Wedding-seasonal depression.

Quick summary: What if Pierce actually did get married to Wu Mei way back when in the second season? You and Jeff are both struggling to come to terms with the fact that this is Pierce’s eighth time getting married, while you’re both still sad and single and alone. You decide to take your frustrations out on each other.

Word count: 7.8K

Warnings: SMUT (you have been warned, this is essentially porn with a lil’ plot), but it's not like super kinky; lots of swearing; first time writing second-person, so buckle up, I guess; kind of angsty (??); many suppressed feels.

A/N: Hey, guys, what’s up 😃🌈🦶! Uhhhh, I know this fic is a little random, but I’ve literally had this story in my drafts for six months. Since then, I have finished the entire Community show and have brought you this gem of a smut fic for Jeff Winger (particularly Jeff Winger with a fuckin’ beard 😩😩😩 he’s such an asshole). Please excuse my horrible attempts at dirty talk. Also, this is the first fic I’ve written in second person, soooooo I’m sorry if it’s, like, bad. Okay, enjoy!! :)))

***

You know, the wedding is perfectly nice. You have nothing against weddings. Apart from the strangely sexist ceremonies (as Britta will agree), the giving away of the daughter to her new owner kind of thing, the virginal unveiling thing, they’re perfectly fine. There’s free alcohol, free food, dancing, friends – sounds pretty nice at first, doesn’t it? Yeah, you’d think that, wouldn’t you? Except, now, the only kind of enjoyment you can feel is the pleasure of yet another scotch burning its way down your throat. You’ve had three, now, and it’s only a matter of time before they start to kick in. And you don’t come to weddings just to get drunk, okay? Your friend is getting married today, and no matter how blatantly racist and sexist and homophobic he is on a daily basis, you want to support his happiness (Annie forced you to come).

The fact that it’s Pierce getting married (again) hasn’t really hit you yet. Pierce. Pierce who talks about women like they’re objects, who treats them like they have a fucking expiry date, who has had his shot at marriage several times before, is now at the altar again, having another wedding while some of you are left to wallow in your own self-pity and loneliness until the night’s end.

You ask the bartender for another scotch.

You swivel in your stool to survey the venue – tables are dotted all throughout the hotel’s expansive ballroom, swathed with elegant white tablecloths, with elaborate centrepieces of white lilies and tulips and curling ferns to adorn. The ceiling reaches up, up, up, and intricate moulding compliments and fills its area, leading to the elevated centre where a glimmering, twisting chandelier dangles, its large gems scattering rainbow light here and there around the room. It’s pretty – the bride knew what she was doing. Pierce had refused to get involved in any of the wedding preparation because, and you quote, “it’s a woman’s job”. When you asked him what a man’s job was, he had looked at you condescendingly, as if it were as plain as day, and said, “To attend the bachelor party, of course.” You didn’t blink or breathe for a whole ten, fifteen seconds, you believe – you thought he was joking at first. But you shouldn’t’ve underestimated Pierce and his miraculous ability to infuriate you. Lord knows why anyone would want to marry him.

Your table – the study group’s table – is right in the corner of the room. The location is a little questionable (you’re all pretty sure the bride detests you for being more important than she is to Pierce, and you don’t blame her at all—but, you know, she could’ve sat you a little closer to the snack bar is all you’re saying), and it’s not close to the altar, it’s not close to the buffet, or the bar, or the toilets, or the band. But, of course, the group has found its own way to keep everyone entertained. Abed and Troy have napkin hats placed on their heads, acting out some movie scene, you’re sure, and Britta’s well on her way to becoming black-out drunk by the time the vows start, and Shirley’s trying to figure out the recipe of the cheesecake Annie ordered, reaching over the table for another forkful and another and another, face scrunched up in deathly concentration as she tries to identify the ingredients by taste. Poor Annie, you think to yourself, but you’re smiling.

Your eyes immediately start searching for Jeff. It’s an unconscious thing that you do every time you enter a room. You just want to make sure he hasn’t done anything stupid yet. And if you know anything at all about him, he’s going to be glowering the whole night away, rolling around in his bitterness, torn between his jealousy that Pierce gets to be married (again) and between his fiery disdain of weddings. He’s just a little bit too much like you – that’s how you can foresee his scowl when he approaches the bar, how you just know his hands will be shoved childishly in his pockets, and that he’ll roll his eyes when some bridesmaid will stop him and ask how he knows the groom. It happens just like clockwork. Jeff thinks he’s some wildcard, but, in reality, he’s so predictable.

“I’m actually the head of what used to be his favourite escort business. He was one of my best customers, but, uh—” he hisses cynically, “—you can’t win ‘em all, can you?”

You smile. He’s predictable until he opens his mouth.

The bridesmaid looks absolutely horrified. She leaves promptly with wide eyes and an open mouth, trying to stifle a laugh for the sake of her friendship with the bride.

A self-satisfied look overcomes Jeff’s face – he’s probably laughing internally at one of his own jokes again – and then his attention shifts up over to you, and his gleaming eyes grace themselves upon yours. He’s such an ass.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” you snort, turning back to the bar and digging your nail back into this narrow groove in its mahogany surface – maybe, if you’re patient enough, you’’ll soon be able to carve your initials into it forever. Jeff steps up onto the platform that perimeters the bar, sighing from deep within his chest as he slumps himself forward in the viridian, velvet-cushioned stool beside you. “You could have at least pretended to be nice for a few seconds.” While your manner is joking, there’s an underlying seriousness to your words. He needs to stop introducing himself as a prick to everyone – it’s off-putting.

But he just grins over at you – it’s hard not to smile back. “That was me being nice, I’ll have you know,” he says meaningfully, “and it just kills me—” he slaps a hand right across his heart, “—to know you don’t think I’m genuine.”

“She looked abhorred, Jeff. Abhorred.”

He scoffs violently. “Don’t say she looked abhorred, okay? She did not look abhorred.” Then, a pause. Then, “What does ‘abhorred’ mean?”

Oh, Jeff. You’d think that, what with his lawyer days (or rather, his days faking a law degree), he’d have a better vocabulary than he actually does. You’re pretty sure he looks up fancy words in his free time, just to impress people, most of which he doesn’t even know. You can just picture it: Him, sitting in the armchair of his ridiculously clean apartment, a dictionary in his lap, a thesaurus to the side, trying to comprehend what “sporadically” means so that he can use it in class the day after. You haven’t proven this theory yet, and Jeff always avoids the question, but you’re 100% convinced that this act is entirely true.

“It means horrified, Jeff,” you deadpan. You watch him make a mental note to use that in conversation later.

He hums lowly, and you let out a long sigh. Wordlessly, the both of you turn your heads to look back at your table. There are a few, special moments in life where someone will resonate so much with another’s feelings that they feel as if the two of them have become melded together. The borders of their mind will collapse, and that shared emotion will just mingle between the two of them like a strange, little ghost. It’s like that now, with you. It’s a melancholy type of feeling. You both can’t quite place the sadness, even as you’re looking on at the happy study group, and you can say that, with confidence, Jeff feels lonely. Just like you. You can feel the ache in his heart.

But, as quick as the intimacy came, it disappears again. Jeff swallows hard and frowns down at the counter, clearing his throat before commenting drily, “So, this sucks, huh? The wedding and everything.”

You nod.

“I just don’t get why Pierce is the one who gets to get married. Like, why not one of us or something? It’s just kind of unfair.” And then he stops abruptly, inhaling sharply like he’s just broken some kind of code. You nudge him and ask if he’s alright, to which he responds with, “You’re not gonna tell any of the others about this, are you? I don’t want Pierce finding out and having one of his little tantrums again.”

“He wouldn’t throw a tantrum,” you smile, completely missing the trust he’s putting in you right now. “If anything, he’d gloat about how you, the Jeff Winger, are jealous of him.”

He scoffs exaggeratedly. “I am not jealous of Pierce.” Jeff doesn’t admit to being jealous of anyone, but it’s always obvious when he is – his sarcasm will somehow double, his face will squint up into a semi-permanent, sour expression, and his voice will up an octave or two if he’s feeling extra shitty. It’s always funny to see him try to keep it together. That man’s got an ego like no other. Under his breath, he finishes, “No more jealous than you are.”

Damn.

Truth is, even though you’re fucking bitter as can be about Pierce getting married, you know that you have no actual desire to ever enter matrimony. It’s not a Britta “fuck marriage as a whole” type of thing; it’s a “wow, someone is achieving something, and you are achieving nothing” kind of situation. What can you say?—it’s your toxic trait. Anyone “beating” you at anything is enough to discourage you from that sector as a whole. If you’re not naturally gifted, what’s the point? Not to say that Pierce is gifted at relationships. No, he’s just rich. It takes everything in you not to strangle him whenever he opens his goddamn mouth. But you just suck at navigating true, meaningful romantic connections with people, and having to watch Pierce enjoy a pretty party and tick off that milestone (again) is just a kick straight to the fucking vagina.

But you’re not going to say all that to Jeff Winger of all people. So, you suck it up, deepen your scowl, and say, “Ah, yes, ever since I was a foetus, my one goal in life has been to wed a person half my age so that they can drain me of my non-existent fortune and give me pity sex for the rest of my shrivelled-up, little life.”

“Can’t tell if that’s sarcasm or not, ‘cause that actually has been my goal since I was a foetus,” Jeff whips back, and you snort. His grin widens.

Stupid Jeff Winger and his stupid Jeff-Winger smile. You hate it when he does that with his fuckin’ face. It’s infuriating. He’s infuriating. You always feel it tugging at your stomach adamantly whenever you’re in his proximity and he does that, and it’s unsettling. Could be annoyance, could be something else. You’re not ready to explore that.

“Anyway, you wanna go find a back room and fuck?”

The words are so swift and casual that you have to take a moment to realise that that is not something normal people say when attending their friend’s wedding and having a conversation at the bar with their completely platonic other friend who has never before made any hints towards attraction.

You turn and blink hard at Jeff, your lungs buffering in your chest.

“What?” you stress to him.

He darts his eyes away from the great hall and shuffles them back to you like he has all the time in the world, like he hasn’t just said what he just said. He raises his eyebrows innocently and politely continues, “Oh, sorry, I just thought that was where this conversation was going.”

The commotion of the party, to your surprise, carries on as usual.

Your wrists are numb with shock, and they’re sparking with what you think might actually be excitement. Did Jeff really just say those words out loud? Are you angry about it? You can’t fucking tell.

Instead of addressing the problem, you swallow thickly, hoping he won’t notice, and ask through an incredulous scoff, “Is this how you get people to have sex with you?” Would you be mad about that? About the fact that he’s just asked, essentially, to sleep with you, right to your face, right in public, at Pierce’s wedding, where there are people that you know and that can see you clearly from where they’re sitting? God, do you look as thrown-off as you feel right now? You would hope to die before looking thrown-off in front of Jeff Winger. The very Jeff Winger that’s finishing your drink off for you and watching you amusedly from over the rim of the glass, smiling his fucking smile to himself as he watches you glitch and hesitate like a browser with too many tabs open.

“Don’t say the s-word,” he hisses patronisingly, narrowing his gaze, leaning closer to you, glancing warily around the room. “There are children.”

“You just said fuck.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. And also, would you like to?”

He’s analysing your expression with fond eyes, you see from your peripheral vision, setting your glass back on the counter gently as he waits, all patient, for your answer, for your reaction. This is probably the most patient he’s ever been in his life. It’s certainly the most patient you’ve ever seen him, and you’ve seen him through a lot.

You tell him (a little breathlessly), “You’re fuckin’ crazy.”

He lowers his voice. “Did I read the situation wrong?”

There’s a silence that’s far too long to be salvageable. Then, a flustered, “No.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows, like he’s impressed with himself, and he looks smugly up at the ceiling. Damn him, you think to yourself. And, sweet Jesus, he has pretty nice hands. You also think to yourself that he has—he has pretty nice hands. Nice hands fixing the cuffs of his shirt and jacket. Nice hands scratching at that awful thing he calls a beard. Nice hands shoved in his pockets all nice-like. Nice hands that you’re sure can do a lot of—nice—things. Jeff clears his throat, and your attention snaps back to where it belongs.

“So,” he drawls. “Back room?”

And just like that, his pick-up somehow works for you. Somehow, you end up stumbling into the janitor’s closest, and you’re shushing each other and telling each other to be quiet as he helps you on top of the wobbly desk. It’s clumsy and fast and you’re both more than a little drunk. “Ow!” he exclaims when you accidentally elbow him in the ribs. Maybe it’s that you’re both just extremely lonely at this wedding – you’ve both kind of realised that you may just have to spend forever alone, that Pierce has a better chance of getting married than you do, that happiness might not be for you after all. And that’s always a nice thing to hear. You just want solace, and both of you are fighting for that by getting it on in a barely sanitary janitor’s room. Think of it—as a favour for a friend. Yeah. You think, with Jeff, the Jeff who blunders over a bucket when he tries to kiss you, it’s just pheromones and genetics doing their thing. Skin-deep. That’s your excuse as you grab him by the tie and press your lips to his as he positions his arms either side of you to keep himself from falling. “Your hair smells kinda nice,” he tells you before he helps zip down your dress, and you slide down your underwear.

He goes down on you first, after you both mock each other about who you bet is gonna finish first. “Oh, I’ve spoken with Britta about you,” you’d said lowly, smiling, and his eyes filled with sweet, sweet defeat. “Yeah, she told me everything—One-Minute Wonder.”

And this had gotten little, insecure Jeff all riled up. “Alright,” he huffed, voice scraping against his throat like he hadn’t had anything to drink for a week. “Alright, we’ll see who cums first, then, huh, doll?” And instead giving you one of those classic Winger smiles, he whispered a request for permission to use his mouth on you. You didn’t even have a response to that. He kneeled down in front of you, hands eagerly spread on your thighs, and his breathing was slightly uneven as he awaited your answer. It made you feel some type of way. You gave a quick nod and shuffled forward to meet his hot mouth. When his tongue delved deep inside your cunt, all coherent thoughts went straight out the door, and now you’re weeping into the back of your hand and clenching down your teeth down on your fingers, trying your best not to cry out.

Now, there are a few things you do to try and stop yourself from finishing immediately: you try clenching your legs together, but this only makes Jeff moan right into your pussy, and that doesn’t do you any good at all; you pull lightly at his hair and scratch at his back and his neck and his arms, holding on for dear life, but he only grows more enthusiastic; and you try insulting him under your breath (“twat”, “asshole”), but he just chuckles into you, and you have to bite down on your knuckles all over again, wrestling with that increasingly violent fluttering feeling in your legs.

Near the end of it, you just give up that bet with Jeff; you’ll cum, you’ll finish first, you’ll lose the bet, and you’ll do whatever you can to get to it. You grind shyly, and then shamelessly, against Jeff’s face, finding a delicious friction with his beard, a lovely contrast to the soft, velvet slickness of his tongue – that is, until he uses his hands to press your hips firmly back down onto the table, rendering you powerless to his actions.

You’re just about to finish when he pulls away. You think it’s a mistake at first, trying to lower him back down onto you with your hand cradling his head, but then you catch sight of a shit-eating grin wanting to take over his face, and you whine out, “Jesus Christ, Jeff, don’t be mean!”

“C’mon, honey, I thought the point of the bet was to not cum. You don’t wanna lose, do you?” His chin is still slick with you and he’s talking to you like you’re not hot and flustered and half-naked for him in a fucking supply room, on the brink of an orgasm, legs shaking like there’s no tomorrow. What a fucking prick, you think to yourself. You’re still gonna fuck him, of course, but he’s still a prick to you, and nothing will ever change that. “What? Can’t talk anymore?”

“I’m about this close—” you narrow my index finger and thumb down to a microscopic space between, “—to leaving you alone in here with blue balls, Winger. You hear me?”

He stands up and massages your legs gently, almost tenderly, and makes you forget, just for a second, that you’re probably another one of his escapades, another one-night stand, just another girl for him to forget in the morning. “Aw, just look at you,” Jeff taunts, twisting his face up in mock-sympathy as you scramble to regain control. “You’re cute when you’re angry, you know that?” His nose brushes up against yours. He comes in real close and whispers against the shell of your ear, “You know, I think you just might get us caught, sweets. I think you’re gonna be crying out my name by the time we’re done, and all those wedding guests are gonna be shocked at the dirty things I’ve done to you and you’ve done to me. You think you’re gonna be able to walk right when they ask us to come out this room? Or do you think everyone’s gonna know how hard I fucked you in here, how I fucked you senseless, how I fucked you so good that you can barely sit down without thinkin’ ‘bout how my cock felt up inside of you?” Your clit throbs painfully. How can it not? You try to snake your own hand between your legs, but Jeff softly moves it away and kisses your shoulder. “Hmm? So, which is it?”

“I think I want you inside of me,” you say breathlessly, needily. Yes, you knew that Jeff likes to sleep around a lot, you knew that he was experienced, you knew that he knows how to get someone hot—but you didn’t really prepare for this. How many other girls has he had in the janitor’s room? How many other girls has he had at a wedding?

“I think I want to play with you for a little while longer,” he replies huskily, and you very nearly finish right on the table. You take his hand and guide it between your glistening thighs, taking him through the way you like to be touched, and he soon takes control, finding out what makes you squirm and what makes you bite into his shoulder and scratch at his back. Jeff has always been a person who loves knowing that he’s good at something, that he’s in charge, that he’s in control – it’s not hard to figure out he loves praise. So, when you tell him, “You’re doing so well,” and he kisses you roughly, hand in your hair, and pinches your clit, you take satisfaction again in his predictability. You yelp right into his mouth, brimming with smugness. Then, he dips a finger into your cunt, and maybe the attitude is punched out of you, but you lose a little respect for yourself with how eagerly you sigh out. After a while, he asks if he can add another, and you agree, grinding against the heel of his palm.

What you’re really scared of is that he won’t let you cum again, that he’s into edging, and that you’re going to be denied the sweet release you’ve been craving for what seems like years, now. “Let me cum, please,” you say, kissing his neck. “I’ll go down on you later, but just please don’t edge me again.” Ew. You hate how desperate you sound. You’re usually a little more dignified than this. Jeff’s there, quick-witted and sharp-tongued as always, and you’re sitting here, tongue-tied and helpless. This is sort of the most bottom you’ve ever been, give or take. With sex with other people, there was a mutual bond rather than a power dynamic, but, here, there’s a very clear distinction. It makes you a little uncomfortable. You’d feel, oh, so much better if it were you saying all those dirty things to Jeff, making him sweat with his cock on your tongue, being the one he asks for permission to cum. But you’re saving that fantasy for another time – you don’t have the willpower to do anything like that today, not when Jeff wants to be in charge right now.

And maybe it’s your imagination, but he grows just that little bit harder at the desperation in your voice. Maybe he should let you cum, since you asked so nicely. “You don’t have to go down on me,” he says, even though he’d definitely love to see your pretty, little mouth wrapped around his cock. Instead, he reaches down and starts to kiss and lick and suck and bite at your breasts, making sure to linger at the swell of them – he has an odd thing for that area between your side and your breast, that little swell, you both learn, and he strokes that area tenderly with one hand as he continues to fuck you with his fingers.

When you finish around his fingers, he licks them clean and wipes the rest on the little square handkerchief in his pocket. He’s going to save that for later, he decides. Say he gets hard at night thinking about you and needs the smell of you to get off—or maybe he’ll just tease you at the post-vows dinner and make eye contact when he presses the damp fabric against his nose, just to see you clench your thighs together. Who knows? You, on the other hand, are only just realising that he’s still fully clothed. You are as naked as the day you were born, and he’s still prim and smart and handsome in that navy-blue suit and tie.

Pulling him closer to you by his belt, you fumble with the buckle as you tell him, “I’ll go down on you.” You just want a grasp of control after him having seen you so bare, so vulnerable. You don’t know if you’ll be able to face him after this if you just don’t get his dick in your mouth right now – it’s a strange logic, yes, but there’s no stopping you.

Jeff watches you passively as you frantically undo his belt, somewhat enjoying seeing you so flustered and out of control. It doesn’t only feed into his desire and lust, but it also adds to that weird, warm feeling in his gut, one that he hasn’t really experienced before. He can’t quite figure out what it is – heartburn, maybe; indigestion? – but he’s not stupid, and he’s a little suspicious, so before his tipsy subconscious can come to that terrifying conclusion, he tells you, “Can you spread your legs for me?” At your surprise, he adds, “Please?” Just to be nice.

“So fucking demanding, aren’t you?” you huff, but you do as you’re told, gut wriggling with apprehension.

He kisses you nice and slow, storing this memory in his mind carefully for later, trying to be the most genuine he can because, at the end of the day, you’re his friend, his good friend, and he would never do anything to harm or lose you. If he’s going to fuck you, he’s going to do it nicely, the way you’d fuck a friend (I don’t know). You remove his jacket as he loosens his tie, and he unbuttons his shirt as you tug down his trousers and his underwear. He rifles through his wallet for a condom, and you make fun of him for carrying a condom in his wallet (“You’re such a skeez, Jeff.”; “Hey, you’re fucking this skeez!”).

You both have a brief moment, a brief pause, of should-they-shouldn’t-they – after all, you’re going to have to see each other practically every day after this, at school, at the study group, at lunch, at hangouts. But then, you tell him, “Well, get on with it, then,” and he e-e-eases into you, taking his goddamn sweet time with it, letting you grasp at his arms and his back and his waist and his neck and hair and face and chest. He loves how handsy you are. You try not to be so vocal – you don’t want his ego growing any bigger than it currently is – but your touchiness always gives you away. And it makes him feel special as well – you’re not the most affectionate person usually, and you rarely give out hugs and touches and pats like some of the other members of the study group, so the fact that you’re touching him so much and so freely makes him feel blessed.

When he thrusts up into you, you bite into his shoulder again, and he nearly loses it. There’s a sinful, explicit, wet noise that’s made when he moves in and out of you, and it’s almost enough to make him cum on the spot. He’s suppressing his moans, now, trying to do well for you, trying to be good, be strong, be satisfying enough for you.

“Good girl,” he chokes out when you whine high in your throat for him – he says it more to himself than to you, feeling the need to give praise after receiving it, wanting to make you feel as good as he is (say what you will about Jeff, but he’s respectful when he wants to be). But little does he know that you love being called that. Some weird insecurity issue is probably to blame, but you whimper for him and clench around his length, making his hips stutter and his pace falter. He decides to play around a bit, just to see how far he can push you while you’re sedated like this – usually, you’d be up to speed, quick and sharp-tongued and tough and sickly sweet, but, now, he has you a mess in his hands. “Oh, you liked that, didn’t you?” he chuckles darkly. “You’re such a good girl for me. Such a good—” he thrusts harder, “—little—” harder, “—girl.”

All you can do is gasp and try to take it well. You can barely form words – it’s like you’re drunk. Well, you are drunk. Of course, you know you’ll have a hard time getting rid of this picture – this picture of him panting and sweating, of his mischievously glinting eyes, of his large hands digging right into your hips and thighs and waist – and you’re probably going to get yourself hot later just thinking about it. You blame him. You blame him for all of it. He’ll probably forget about it in a heartbeat, you think to yourself. He’s Jeff Winger, after all – ladies’ man, professional man-whore, completely indifferent to everything all of the time. You try to plan ahead, try to plan for later when you’re sad and alone and hating your body and hating your life choices, but then Jeff moans breathily into your ear, and you’re right back in the moment. You curl your legs tightly around his waist, letting your head fall back as he takes further control.

“You know, I think this is the first time you haven’t had some comeback ready to go, isn’t it, hon?” he says, then softly biting your earlobe. You can only choke out a moan. “Thank you for that addition.”

You groan and roll your eyes. “I fuckin’ hate you,” you say in a feeble attempt to put up your guard again.

“No, you’re just fucking me, actually.”

You sob dryly into his shoulder, and Jeff starts to encourage you a little, probably the kindest he’s ever been during sex: “Come on, darlin’, why don’t you cum for me? You’re doing so well, you know that?” And that just sets you over the edge. You finish, body quivering, exhausted, and slump right forward onto Jeff’s chest. He somehow manages to hold on – he’s not done yet, and he’s going to want to drag this out for as long as he can, that much he knows. He plants his hands on the table, either side of you, and rests his head forwards on your shoulder, panting.

“Nice one, Jeff,” you say to him awkwardly. What does one say to the friend they’ve just fucked? There’s no right thing, of course, but you know straight away that that was definitely a wrong thing.

But he laughs. “We just fucked the shit out of each other, and that’s what you’ve got to say to me?”

“Well, what am I supposed to say?”

“I dunno,” he tells you, and he genuinely doesn’t.

You stay like that for a while, him laying light kisses on your shoulder and neck, you running your hand gently through his hair, both confused as to what to do now. That is, until you point out, “You’re still hard, huh?” You can feel him throbbing painfully inside of you. This must be torture for him – you’ve finished twice, now, and him none.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I was gonna wait for a better time, but.”

“I don’t think there is a better time in this situation.”

Jeff swallows thickly, throat suddenly dry as he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. His dick twitches inside you when you grin up at him, and you pretend not to notice (but, oh, you’ll definitely remember it the next time you smile at him). He’s quite nervous, and he can’t pinpoint why. His brain’s just still a little too fuzzy to really process any coherent thoughts, even despite that sobering experience just then, but, again, he isn’t stupid – he knows what that knotted feeling in his chest probably is – so, before he has the chance to figure out what he already knows, he asks you, “Can you turn around? Bet you feel real good when I have you bent over this desk.”

“What a charmer,” you mumble under your breath. You know that’s about as sweet as he gets. You’re about to turn around for him when he surprises you:

“Of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He strokes your arms nicely. “We can go back to the party if that’s what you’d prefer, have a few more drinks, make fun of Pierce a little. Or we could try something you decide on. Got a favourite position? I’m sure we could make do with the space we have in here – maybe move a few buckets and boxes around, and we’re good. What do you like?”

Your mind goes completely blank, except for one very clear thought: “You’re what I like.” Not out loud, of course. You’d probably do anything he wanted right about now. You half-expect him to pull a 180 and say something snarky or sarcastic, but he doesn’t. He just kisses your cheek sweetly and waits for your answer. What do you like? You don’t even know anymore, and yet you’re getting wetter than ever before. Your breath is picking up, now. “You know,” you mumble, trying to contain your nerves, “the usual: a little light asphyxiation, a bit of hair pulling. I dunno. What else is there? I guess overstimulation can be nice sometimes. And, you know, I liked it—” a blush starts to form on your cheeks, “—I liked it when you...”

“Liked it when I what?”

“You know,” you huff frustratedly. “Said all those nice things to me.”

Jeff raises his eyebrows. “Praise?” Internally, he smiles to himself – he likes that he shares that in common with you. “Don’t worry, I like it, too.”

“Nice to know.” You maintain a neutral expression, but your clit is fucking beating right now, and your cunt is dripping wet. Your efforts not to clench around Jeff are herculean.

“Well, how do you want it?” he asks you brazenly, the usual Winger way. Okay, now, you squeeze tight around him, and Jeff presses his hands around your thighs in response—but, outwardly, the two of you are perfectly normal about this. “I can dial it back a little if you wanna take charge.” His eyes darken just slightly. “I don’t mind.” And that’s genuine enough – he certainly doesn’t mind the mental image of you with your fingers wrapped around his cock, teasing him as he whimpered and begged for a release, completely submissive to you in the moment. He wouldn’t mind that at all.

You grip the edge of the table and run a tongue over your teeth briefly. “I can turn around.”

“Really?” he asks. “You want to?”

“I want to.”

“Alright then,” he says, smiling. “Better get to it. We don’t want the others realising we’re gone, now, do we?” And you shake your head in response. Now that Jeff’s a little nicer, you’re more comfortable around him. He realises it, too, and so he allows himself to do the things he normally wouldn’t, brushing your hair out of your face for you and really looking into your eyes. Sex sort of became meaningless for him sometime along his life, full of emptiness and loneliness even in that intimate act – that’s the trouble he gets for sleeping his way out of his problems. And so, looking in his partner’s eyes has always brought him some type of shame – he’d always close his eyes and power through it. But you’re nice. You’re familiar. You’re safe and warm and soft. It might be a little to do with the friend thing, but, even when he was with Britta, he never felt this type of comfort, this okay-ness, this general acceptance. It was nice to have, for once: a friend.

He carefully pulls out of you, and then you turn around and bend over the table. Jeff almost stops breathing at the sight in front of him. And it’s not bad, don’t worry – he’s just a bit dramatic. “Jesus Christ,” he curses, and he moves his hands to massage gently at your hips. “You’re so fuckin’ wet.” And it’s true. Slick spills down your thighs, some of it slathered across the table and a fair amount dripping down onto the ground below them. That’s the type of stuff you see in pornos, he thinks amusedly to himself, and he continues to stare in awe at your cunt. Now, what Jeff really wants to do is to kneel down and lay his tongue flat against you. But he controls himself, and, instead, just sucks it up and praises you for it; “Keep that sort of energy up, yeah?”

“You sound like you’re a key-note speaker addressing an assembly of seven year-olds,” you say to him as he places his hands on your ass, spreading the sides apart slightly, his dick straining when he catches a better view of your aching cunt, and then he runs two fingers along your slit – he grows silent for a few heartbeats, amazed at how easily you drip down the length of his fingers and onto his wrist. You then turn back to see him place those fingers in his mouth, and you turn back around, blushing, before he can notice.

“Ah, so you’re into role-play?” he teases, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Sh—” but Jeff is already pushing into you, heavy and strong and thick; you try to continue your sentence without your voice shaking, “—shut u-up.”

He continues all the way to the hilt, and both of you use your hands to hold onto something for stability, his on your hips, and yours flat on the table. “You know,” he says as he bends over you, chest against your back, one hand coming to rest on the wall by your head, coaxing a pant or two out of you as he does so, “it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Role-play’s good once in a while.”

“Uh-huh,” you manage breathily. “You sound like you’re covering up a deeply concerning fantasy, there.”

“Don’t shame me.”

“We all know what it stands for, Jeff. ‘Role-play’s good once in a while.’ Really? Show me where you hid the goddamn body.”

He exhales amusedly through his nose. “I feel like you’re just trying to ease in with your officer-perp kink.” And he’s just casually gri-i-i-in-ding up against you, carefully pushing you back down so that your stomach is flat against the table, his lips pressing kisses into your hair and upon your shoulder blades as he starts to find a pace.

“It’s h-hot, okay?” you stutter out, trying to continue the conversation. It’s true enough – police officers can be hot when they want to be, and Jeff would certainly make for an interesting experience in that sector. Not that you were planning to sleep with him again. Fantasies are what’s discussed between a couple – it’s not really something you tell a one-night stand, especially if that one-night stand happens to be one of your closest friends who would never let you forget anything embarrassing you did—ever.

“Really?” Jeff says through a smile, though, now, even he’s having trouble composing himself. He should’ve cum when he could’ve – he feels like he’s about to give way any second, but he, oh, so wants to finish inside of you while you crumble apart around him. “Hands—” his breath catches, “—above your head.”

“I’m literally bent over a table in front of you.”

“Could still apply to some other positions, though.” And, with that, he begins to slowly pull out and push into you, nice and gentle at first, very controlled, but, as I said, Jeff was very quickly losing control, so one can imagine the animalistic desperation that soon kicked in for not just him, but for both parties. You buck up against him feverishly, letting out whines and suppressed, breathy moans and little, desperate whispers of his name (he absolutely loves those), and he just goes at it with all his energy. Who cares if he looks like absolute shit at the party later on? That’s a lot coming from him, he’ll have you know. As long as this memory is playing in his head, he doesn’t care about his hair or his suit anymore (the suit might be a stretch). He tells you breathlessly, “You know, you look good like this. Such a pretty girl.”

There’s the praise that you love. You squeeze around him and pant, “Take a picture—” and Jeff slides a hand between your legs, rubbing at that golden spot, and you have to choose between pressing into his cock or into his hand; the indecision makes your head reel, and the continuation of your sentence is twisted high and quiet, “—it’ll la-ast long-e-er.”

“Is that an invitation, doll? ‘Cause I’m not exactly against it.”

He pounds and pounds into you, nice and firm and precise, until you’re mewling and whining for him. “Be quiet, now,” he whispers against your ear – there are people chattering outside the room, passing through the exit after the party. But you can’t exactly keep it in. You try to hold your breath, you really do, but you end up grunting out when Jeff kneads at one of your breasts. “What?—d’you want those people to hear you or something? You wanna get caught?” You whine suppressedly again. “I bet you’d love that, wouldn’t you? Dirty girl.”

You clench once again, so fucking close to cumming, and he asks, “Can I try something?” And you nod frantically, alongside giving him a rushed, weak verbal affirmation. “I want you to prop yourself up a little more, hands on the wall – can you do that for me?”

“Uh-huh,” you mutter, adjusting yourself, and, with your movement, Jeff groans and grips your hips tightly.

“Good girl,” he praises, kissing the place behind your ear. And he continues thrusting, and then swiftly lifts one of your legs right up into the bend of his arm, leaving you to press the side of your face into the wall, your entire body swaying with the sheer force of the rutting of his hips. You feel so full like this, and he’s reaching that heavenly spot inside of you. Your knee gently brushes against his corresponding shoulder whenever he moves into you, out of you.

“Shit,” you curses sharply when he roughens his pace. “Jeff.” His name comes out as an awfully high-pitched sigh.

He huffs, “Yup, that’s me, doll.”

“You’re such a prick.”

“You could at least wait until I’m not inside of you to insult me.”

“Tell me something nice.”

“Something nice? I dunno if I can muster it up – all the things I’m thinking aren’t exactly nice. Definitely not things I’d say to anyone’s grandma.”

“Well, then, be mean,” you chuckle, and he jerks inside of you. “I don’t care.”

“You like getting off on my voice, do you?” His voice is nice and low and gravelly, and it practically grates against your pussy in some magical way, and your whole body shudders beneath him. He keeps at that perfect pace, pressure, and you commend him for his technique, you have to say. “You ever think about me when you touch yourself?” You nod. “Such a perfect, little girl. Fucking perfect.”

And he’s got a good-ish look at your face from this angle. Your eyes are closed in ecstasy, mouth open in silent pleasure, and you’re chasing, chasing that feeling. He can’t help it. He cums. And you follow immediately after – your fists screw up uselessly against the wall, and your legs quake and quake, and you squeeze so impossibly tight around him that he lets out a choked moan at how good it feels. He continues sloppily thrusting up into you, helping you ride out your orgasm while also riding out his own. “God, you’re hot,” he mutters, smiling.

You grin back at him, and his cock twitches again – it’s instinctive, he swears. “You’re not so bad either,” you reply, eyes shimmering in the dim light. Those eyes flutter shut again when he carefully pulls out of you with a sinful, wet noise.

Shit, he thinks to himself as you slip your soaked underwear and your pretty, green dress back on.

Shit, he loves you, doesn’t he?

After he’s put his suit back on, you help to adjust his tie, and he has to try his very, very hardest not to blush. He’s pretty sure you notices anyway, but it’s the effort that counts, right? He really, really wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t know if he should. The one-night stand is over, right?

“Call me tonight?” you ask after a brief pause. Was that the correct thing to do? You and Jeff call sometimes, obviously, when he’s at the store and wants to ask if you want anything, or when you want to order a pizza for yourself but get too nervous and ask for his help—but this’ll clearly be different. Are you still friends? Of course, you know you’re still friends, sure, but is it still the same?

And his heart rate has picked up significantly. You want him to call you. You want to talk to him later. “So you can get off to my voice?” You laugh. He made you laugh. He just made you laugh. The sound is like music to his ears. “I’m not a phone sex line, you know. Not a free one, anyway. If you want my services, you’re gonna have to pay.”

You’re smiling. “What’s your price?”

“$100, give or take.” He neatly folds his pocket square back up and places it into his breast pocket. Like he said, he wants to save it for later. He’s not sure for what, but it seems important to him now. And then, what he bumbles out next is said on a whim – the words are quiet and shy. Yes, shy. Jeff Winger is shy. He’s blushing. His stomach is full of butterflies. “Can I come visit your room instead?”

“Yeah, but it’ll cost you $100, give or take.”

Jeff approaches the door, and you line up behind him. “Ready?” he asks you. And you grab a fistful of his suit jacket from behind, going up on your toes, and kiss him lightly on the corner of his mouth in response.

He doesn’t even notice that you wrinkled his suit. He just closes his eyes and turns around for another kiss.

(Spoiler alert: You don’t end up seeing each other in your hotel room because Britta gets black-out drunk and nearly starts a vodka fire on the bride’s dress, so Jeff has to take her to get her fucking stomach pumped. But he gives you a call, and you come, and you sit together by Britta’s bedside as she sleeps. You talk about weird hospital experiences you’ve had, and then you fall asleep. He lets you rest your head on his shoulder.)

#jeff winger x reader smut #jeff winger x reader #jeff winger #community #pierce hawthorne #abed nadir #troy barnes #britta perry #shirley bennett #annie edison #have fun with this #i have no idea why i wrote this #but i do love it #also i’m very proud of the title

416 notes · View notes

bridgeportbritt · 6 months

Text

A Fresh Start Rehabilitation Center | Cypress, SimDonia

???: Who could be here for me? Mom and Dad would've called first.

Arabella nervous: Hey there...

???: Oh, my Watcher! Arabella??

Arabella: Hey, Alex.

Alex: I can't believe you're- how did you-? Oh, my Watcher.

Arabella: I hope you're not mad.

Alex: Mad? no! I'm confused, but I'm so happy to see you! How'd you find me here?

Arabella: Umm... we're best friends with the Queen.

Alex: Really? Diana sent you here?

Arabella: We've been worried about you, so she had someone do some digging. Once we found you here, we knew we needed to see you in person. Diana wishes she could be here, but..

Alex: I understand. Gosh, I'm just happy to see you. Sorry, I said that already. Let's sit and catch up.

Alex: So, how is Diana? You've seen her recently?

Arabella: Yeah, she's doing good. Busy, of course. Seems like she's been pregnant forever. Won't be long now.

Alex: Aw, and you?

Arabella: Well, we just had little Madeliene not to long ago. I don't think I've seen you since I had Jayme.

Alex: Wow, three little ones? You guys aren't wasting no time. Gosh, I feel like I've missed a lot.

Arabella: Yeah, it was like you fell off the face of the earth there. What happened?

Alex: Right... well, it's kind of a long story, but after the wedding fiasco... I was really struggling.

Alex upset: I tried my best to keep it together for the coronation. It was just... seeing her again. Knowing that because of me... my best friend almost...

Arabella: Alex, no one blames you for that.

Alex: Yeah, I kept trying to tell myself that. But, after the coronation.. I just... kind of went off the deep end.

The rest of this post describes substance abuse, alcohol, and drugs. Please read at your own risk.

Alex: The partying, the drinking, the drugs. I was spiraling out of control hard and fast. I- I didn't even recognize myself anymore.

Arabella: Oh, Alex...

Alex: I was just so torn up with guilt and I hated myself for even dating that guy. I felt so violated and used. And I just let everybody down once again with my stupid choices.

Arabella sobbing: I'm so sorry you were going through that, Alex! We should've paid more attention and been there for you!

Alex: No, don't think that, Arabella, really. You were living your life! I was a mess and isolating myself on purpose. Eventually, my parents caught on and sent me here.

Arabella: I'm so glad for that. I... know life is crazy and we don't see each other as much, but... I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my best friend.

Alex: Thanks, Belle. Even though being here sucked at first, it's working its magic, I guess. I've been sober for 5 months, therapy 3 times a week, group twice, activities up the ass.

Arabella: That's amazing, Alex. I'm so proud of you!

Alex: Thanks. Plus, I kind of met someone..

Arabella: Oh, really?

Alex: Yeah, his brother's a patient here. But, my dad's company works with his. He owns a clothing brand. Or "lifestlye apparel" as he likes to call it. He's cool.

Arabella: He sounds like the most normal guy you've ever dated.

Alex laughs: I know, right? No "salarypersons" from Mt. Komorebi this time around. We're just friends for now. Gotta stay focused on the program. But, I only have 3 months left, so... who knows?

Arabella: Wow, that's a really mature way to go about it. I am so impressed, Alex. You're killing it! You're so much stronger than you realize. I can't wait to see how you flourish after this.

Alex: Thanks, I'm excited to. Feels like - ugh - a fresh start.

Arabella chuckles: Ah, that's why they call this place that... Well, care to show me around? Let me into Alex's world?

Alex: Sure, since it's a little less messy.

#simdonia #chap 12 #alex was always a party girl #but she partied for fun not to cover up her pain #hopefully she stays on the right track #sims of color #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #ts4 #royal sims #sim: alexandra #sim: arabella #tw drugs #tw alcohol #tw substance abuse

24 notes · View notes

try-set-me-on-fire · 30 days

Note

I read finally going water (i waited to be in the headspace and mood ) and it didn’t disappoint it was so good it made my cry at least once for chapters sometimes more you have a way with writing the emotions so tangible really I love it , you mentioned follow up stories and I’m excited I can see the all possibilities to explore , both buck and Eddie and the trauma , Chris trauma when they both come back to work , what about the Diaz siblings reconnecting and maybe another family Diaz meet up where Eddie brings buck and having to navigate the dynamic with buck officially being his boyfriend so many stuff ! I might have become obsessed with the universe lol sorry for the ramble the main thing is a love it

Thank you!!! Sorry for the distress I’m glad it was enjoyable!!

Ooh I didn’t really have anything with Chris or the Diaz siblings planned but maybe I could work them into my existing ideas… so far I have a little 4 part series of follow ups that I’ve written uh very little of. The general ideas:

- Buck gets hurt at work for the first time post cruise sinking. Eddie’s still off work and is struggling pretty badly with having survived something that should have killed him (again). Buck is really upset at being hurt because he knows it’s going to upset Eddie further. Told from Bobby’s pov going from the station to the call to taking Buck home to Eddie.

- 5 or 6 months after the sinking. Eddie pov. Buck and Eddie are getting married! Except Buck is running himself ragged and compromising on any nice ideas for the wedding he might have because he wants it to happen as fast as possible. Eddie knows its because he’s afraid about what could happen if Eddie were to die again and he wants some more paperwork tying them together and tying him to Chris, but Eddie confides in Bobby that half the time it feels like Buck is planning his funeral. Dont they just get to be in love! Dont they get their happy ending! Bobby says, of course, that he should probably talk to Buck about this. Ends with Eddie actually buying them rings to propose for real (that barely happened, it was almost a business discussion when they decided to go for it), and beyond that asks if Buck wants to go to city hall and get married the next day. Eddie insists it wont actually count, it will be a marriage on paper only, they’re going to have a long engagement and plan their real wedding as big and extravagant as they want it, but he understands Buck’s fear and wants to soothe that in whatever way he can. Buck apologizes for kind of forgetting the being in love part of wanting a wedding, and says he’d love to go not get married to Eddie.

-8? 10? Months after the sinking. Marisol is doing electrical work on her house and would love a firefighter’s guidance to make sure she doesn’t accidentally catch anything on fire or electrocute herself. But she doesn’t really want to talk to Eddie still! She’s still kind of mad at him! So she calls Buck instead (she’s also still a little mad at him but they went through it sort of together for those few awful days so this seemed the better option). Buck looks SO nervous being there like she’s going to suddenly attack or something. She kind of rolls her eyes about it. As they work he tells her they’re starting to do better, and he and Eddie are getting married. He actually admits they are already technically married and swears her to secrecy because literally no one knows except Bobby because they had to update station paperwork. Not really sure where I want this one to go i just wanted Marisol to have a chance to work through things! That all really sucked for her! I think she and buck end up as weird kind of friends.

- Around a year and a half after the sinking. A kind of bachelor party/group vacation to a lake somewhere. Everybody piled in a big rented house. Just a bunch of snippets of everyone finally doing actually okay and Buck and Eddie excited to get married for real.

#the going water and the gone #when will i get these done? who knows! it’ll happen eventually!#asked and answered

8 notes · View notes

sebsgirl71479 · 1 year

Text

A King and His Queen

Mafia Sebastian Stan x Curvy Female Reader

Rating: 18+only No Minors

Word Count: 1,285k

A/N Once I saw the pictures of Sebastian at the LACMA Gala this story popped up in my head. I will have translations for anything that Sebastian says in romanian. Also if you have a problem with curvy/plus sized readers oh well.

A/N 2: Ok finally here is part 2, its a little short and its kind of a filler part but hopefully you like it. Turns out this will have a 3rd part to this story. PLEASE DONT FORGET TO REBLOG THIS IT WILL MAKE ME VERY HAPPY

Warnings: cursing, blood, guns, smut, virgin sex, unprotected sex, fluff, nicknames If there is anything I missed sorry.

The following day at the family fourth of july party, you both broke the news to your parents about your engagement. They were over the moon happy for you too, but did stress for the two of you to wait until after you graduated high school to start planning the wedding. You all agree and enjoy the rest of the party. Your whole senior year, the school was a buzz about you getting married. Everyone thought you were crazy but the majority of the students were on your side. Another thing happened that year during school. You both met a new student that transferred from Massachusetts, his name was Chirs Evans. Sebastian and Chris hit it off really quick and became the best of friends. They trusted each other wholeheartedly, as did you.

6 months after graduation you were getting ready to marry your king. You were standing in front of a full length mirror assessing your look. You picked a beautiful lace off the shoulder mermaid style wedding dress. Your shoes were the same color as Sebastian's eyes and the crown on your head was fit for the queen he said you were. It was a pre wedding gift from Sebastian. You decided to go without a vail for the wedding, it felt like it was too much. There's a knock at the door. “Come in!” You see Chris’ head peek around the corner like he isn't supposed to see you.

“Oh my god Y/N you look beautiful, Sebastian is going to combust.” You bow your head at his complement and let out a little giggle. “Do you really think he is going to like it?” “I may have only known you guys for a year but I feel like me and Seb were brothers separated at birth. And if he doesn't shed one tear I will smack him in the back of the head.” “Did you need something Chris?” “Oh yeah, um it's almost time, you ready?” “Chirs, I've been ready since I was 13 years old.” With a big smile on his face he offers you his arm and leads you to the back of the venue where your mother and father are waiting for you.

You had your wedding at Monteverde at oldstone, a beautiful outside venue with an old 18th century home. As you waited at the end of the aisle for your music to start you reflected on the first time you met Sebastian. He was such a sweet and shy boy and just wanted to get to know him better not knowing you were meeting the love of your life at such a young age. All of a sudden a string quartet starts playing I Can't Help Falling In Love by Elivs Presley, that's your cue to walk. As you walk you finally look up to see Sebastian practically sobbing. You try to hold back your tears as best you can. He is in a simple black suit white shirt and black necktie, so very handsome. You're halfway down the aisle when you mouths to you “I love you.” At that you quicken your pace you want to get to him as fast as possible. You make it to the front as your father takes your hand and gives it to Sebastian. “Son, I trust you to take care of my little girl.” “Sir, I will protect her till my dying breath.”

The ceremony was short but beautiful. As soon as the minister pronounced you man and wife Sebastian grabbed you waist, dipped you and kissed you with so much passion you thought you might pass out. He brings you back up and you hug each other so tightly. “I love you so much draga, I can't wait to start our lives together.” Lubirea mea, we are going to have a beautiful life together, my king.”

During your first year of marriage Sebastian was learning everything about his step-fathers business and then some. By your 1st anniversary he had almost completely taken over his business. What most people didn't know was that his step-dad was a small-time mafia man, and Sebastian had big plans to make it bigger than ever. You and Sebastian wanted to have children but waited a few years to really start trying. With him taking over the mafia, you wanted to find a time where things started to level out. After 3 years of marriage you had a big surprise for him on his birthday. You were 8 weeks along already when you found out. You had dinner simmering on the stove while you set the table ready for him to come home. On his place setting you put a copy of the sonogram. You heard him coming through the front door.

“Draga, I'm home!” “I’m in the kitchen lubirea mea.” You turn around just as he comes into the kitchen, giving you a soul stealing kiss. “Seb, what was that for?” “Just happy to see my beautiful wife after a hard day.” “Well I hope you're hungry? Go wash up while I finish up here.” Giving you a peck on the cheek he runs up stairs to take off his suit jacket and head to the bathroom to wash up. While he’s doing that you are a ball of nerves waiting for him to come back down stairs to sit at the table and find your surprise. You hear him coming back down and ask him to go ahead and take his seat while you bring dinner. As you walk into the dinning room you see Sebastian standing by his chair holding the sonogram. You walk slowly over to him and place dinner on the table.

“Sebastian, baby please say something.” He looks over at you with a few tears coming down his face. “Draga, is this for real? Are you pregnant?” You nod your head afraid to speak. He fist pumps the air and scoops you up in his arms and spins you around peppering you with kisses. Once he stops he puts you down and holds your face in his large hands. “Y/N, i didn't think i could be any happier than i am at this moment. You are going to be an amazing mother.” “Seb, you are going to be a great dad, not to mention really sexy.” You both laugh and give each other a few more kisses before starting dinner.

All through out your pregnancy, Sebastian was the most caring and attentive husband. Anything you needed he gave you, he even choose the décor of the nursery for you with your approval. At the 5 month mark you found out you were having twins a boy and a girl. You went into labor at 37 weeks, and Sebastian was with you through out everything. As soon as you were able to finally push the babies out that's when the real pain started. You soldiered through and when you heard the first cries are you baby girl you and Sebastian started crying. He cut the ambilocal cord and the nurse took her to clean her up. 5 mins later you start pushing again and out comes your son, he cuts his cord and is taken to be clean up as well. Two nurses bring over you son and daughter for you to hold. They give you your son and Sebastian your daughter.

Y/N, draga mea have you thought of name for our son?” “I have, do you have one for our daughter?” “I do, what do you think of Elena?” “I love it lubirea mea, what do you think about Luca for our son?” “Luca and Elena Stan, they both mean light in Romanian its beautiful.”

TAG LIST: @buckyalpine @christycurlswrites @frostironfudge @peaches1958 @allandoflimbo @altagraye

#sebastian stan x plus size reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan au #mafia sebastian #sebastian stan fanfiction #young sebastian stan #romanian god #tz

120 notes · View notes

tadfools · 8 months

Note

The durge/cuddle thing you posted is just… Whyyyy. I want to see that kind of content in game 😭

But also, please post everything about your (canon) ending with the manor. I love it. What do you think karlach is doing in that scenario?

That’s what the wonderful world of fan fiction is for my dear!

There’s bits I’m still figuring out and bits I don’t want to give away but there is gonna be a chapter that’s a banquet/party/maybe a wedding that’ll be fun to eventually get to. This is a spoiler for the one that got a thay but Mama K isn’t going to make it to old age

After the game’s third act she spends most of her time at Wyll’s side. They both stay in the city helping with the after math of [redacted]. A few months later Wyll becomes a viscount and Karlach becomes a self-appointed bodyguard (the wedding that takes place at Sunlit might be theirs) The manor is also where she spends the last few months of her life (there’s a pond on the grounds that she likes to sit by) when the engine begins to overheat

Its slow at first… she has dizzy spells, persistent heart burn, the scorching heat that made it so she can’t touch anyone returns. Shadowheart comes back from her pilgrimage with Isobel when that happens. She casts greater restoration on Karlach almost as often as on Wyll who, despite the blistering heat, does not let go of Karlach. In the end, when the pain is too much, Tavrais and Gale cast an extended sleep spell on her. What would be classified as a heart attack is what takes her in the end

After she’s gone, Wyll has burn scars between the webbing of each of his fingers and curled around his thumb in the shape of Karlach’s hand that he refused to have magically healed away. I haven’t decided if the two would have a child in the few years they have together but if they do, their daughter would be named Clara, she’d be a toddler when her mother passes

Karlach’s buried between her parents in the city's cemetery

#baldur’s gate 3 #the one that got a thay #asks for bee #karlach #wyll ravengard

19 notes · View notes

beachy--head · 2 years

Text

Something Old, Something New

One-shot, Grey's Anatomy (read on ao3 or ff.net)

Summary: April is his best friend, so of course Jackson is going to say yes when she asks him to be the maid of honour at her wedding. Of course he's going to help her with all the wedding planning, the flowers, the cake, the seating chart. Of course he's going to throw her the best bachelorette party she could ask for.

Of course he's going to fall in love with her in the process.

Note: This came from a silly tumblr post where I imagined Jackson as April's maid of honor (he would honestly kill it), and @japril12 commented about the fact that of course he would fall in love with April. I started writing down a few ideas, and then this took a mind of its own.

This is slightly AU in the sense that April and Jackson haven't kissed or slept together at the boards and stayed BFFs in Seattle after season 8. Everything else is pretty much the same.

___

He has never seen his best friend looking so hyper. And that's saying something, given that ever since Matthew Taylor asked her to marry him after dating for 8 months, April has been very hyper. A spring-in-her-step, always-bouncing-and-smiling kind of hyper. The blush that is covering her cheeks is very April though, and it's clear she's dying to ask him something.

"I have something to ask you, and I want you to keep an open mind. I know it might seem weird, but I've seen it on Pinterest, it has already been done, and I kind of like the whole 'reversal of expectations' aspect of it all, when you think about it. It's not traditional, sure, but you're my best friend, and..." She looks at him with wide eyes and he can't help but grin, because he's always liked when April gets all worked up (and also when she refers to him as her best friend, their friendship having survived years of residency and of being attendings at the same hospital).

"Will you be my maid of honor?"

He brings his hands to his chest, pretending to clutch his heart.

"Yes, a thousand times yes!"

She laughs and swats him, and he meets her eyes.

"Do you think I would have let you ask Arizona? Or worse, your sister Kimmie? Of course I will."

She giggles and runs in his arms, hugging him with all of her body, and he lifts her lightly until her feet don't touch the ground.

"Wait, does that mean I have to wear a dress?" he asks, bringing her back on the ground. She grins and brings her hand to her chin, pretending to think.

"I think salmon-pink would suit you very well. Bring out your eyes and everything."

___

"This one is perfect."

How did he end up going cake tasting with Matthew Taylor, he has no idea.

Well, he has an idea. April was obviously supposed to go. What she wasn't supposed to do was get stuck in the ER with victims from a MVC 10 minutes before her shift ended. Seeing him on his way home in the lobby, she had asked him if he would mind going to the cake tasting in her place. "Not that I don't trust Matthew's choice, I do, I just think two opinions are better than one. And well, you know your food and I know you won't let them get away with a pretty cake that tastes like cardboard." He had said yes, because one, who refuses free food? Not him. And two, because he's her maid of honor and that's what a maid of honor does.

In the small pastry shop, he realizes that he's never had more than one or two conversations with Matthew, and that it's the first time it's just the two of them. April is usually always there, chatting and trying to connect those two parts of her life, but he can't recall any meaningful interaction between him and the guy who is now the most important man in April's life.

"It's pretty good, yeah. Too bad you won't be able to choose that one."

"Why?"

"April is allergic to peanuts," Jackson says, tapping the ingredients list with his finger.

Matthew sighs and drops his head.

"Darn it! I really wanted that one. Hey, do you think it would be weird if we had two cakes?"

He wants to ask the guy if he's ever met his future wife, because there's no way that April Elizabeth Kepner would allow two cakes at her dream wedding. She'd go for the chocolate cake with raspberry mousse, hands down. But he barely knows the guy and doesn't know if the joke would be welcome, so he just shrugs and cuts a piece of the lemon cake in front of him, finding it tastes a bit too sour.

___

He's operating with Alex on a kid with a cleft palate, and it takes all of five minutes before the guy starts teasing him about being "one of the girls" in April's wedding.

"You're jealous?"

"Of being at Kepner's beck and call for the next few months? Right. Super jealous." Alex rolls his eyes. "Wait, did you take the job so you could get it on with one of the bridesmaids?"

"You want me to get it on with one of April's very married sisters or with Robbins?"

"Right. Then you're even weirder that I thought."

It's Jackson's turn to roll his eyes. Alex has never understood his friendship with April, always turning his nose up when they were all living together and the two of them did something together, be it watching TV or taking a walk. Still, he's not ready for what comes out of Alex's mouth next.

"You know, back when we were roommates, I always thought the two of you had something going on, or that you would end up together. It would have made so much sense, given how you were acting."

"Made sense? You always made fun of me for being her friend because we were so different."

"Yeah, well, what can I say, you two just work together. You ground her and always calm her down, she brings out your carefree side, whatever."

The patient's stats suddenly drop, so they focus on stabilizing him and operating after that, but when the surgery's done, Jackson looks at Alex and shakes his head.

He refuses to believe Alex Karev – Alex Karev, of all people! – is that good at deciphering human relationships.

___

The Kepner sisters are intense.

They have very strong opinions about everything, and they aren't afraid to voice them, no matter how inappropriate or insulting they can be. Their favorite pastime though seems to be giving backhanded compliments to the only sister that ever escaped Ohio, and for the third time in ten minutes, he finds himself making a face at Arizona and taking a sip of his glass of champagne (because if he has to be present for the dress selection, and he apparently does, because April has said 'You're an Avery, you know these things', then he's made it clear that they had to do this in style, and that champagne was required). He's walking a fine line here, trying not to make her sisters hate him, but still defending April because that's what a best friend does. What a decent person does, even.

Or so he tells himself.

April slides the curtain of the dressing room and walks towards them in what must be the 64th wedding dress she's been trying on today, and he suddenly gets what people mean when they talk about "the one".

It's the perfect dress for her.

Even the Kepners agree, and April giggles and twirls amid a sea of oohs and aahs. He makes sure to keep a smile on his face, hiding the ache in his chest as he stares at her. She's cute in scrubs, in jeans, in athletic wear, but that dress was made for her, and he remembers a time years ago when she was complaining about being single and he had told her that anyone would be lucky to have her. This only makes the ache in his chest intensify.

The medical professional in him tells him he has nothing to worry about and that physically, everything's fine with him.

The 31-year-old man who just had the biggest realization of his life tells him he is screwed.

___

He's on the phone with his mom when he looks at the time and sees he has to leave soon if he wants to make it to the appointment on time.

"Mom, I have to go, April is waiting for me."

"Oooh, what is it this time?"

"Flower selection. I think."

"I'll let you go then. You don't keep a bride waiting!"

Before hanging up, he swears he can hear her say "With all the wedding activities she has you doing, you'd think you were the groom!" and his heart skips a bit, but he shrugs it off and puts on his coat.

The words get stuck in his head all day though, all the way through the florist appointment and his suit fitting and the selection of party favors. He tries to tell himself that he's just nostalgic, and that he's afraid because he's going to miss her. Because he's going to miss her, miss all the time they spend together at one of their places (because they had decided to be grown-ups and to live in their own apartments when they became attendings, but he swears that April has cooked more often that he has in his own kitchen, and that her fancy couch is bound to have his butt imprint on it from all their TV marathons and late-night discussions). Yes, that's it. April is going to spend more time with her husband and less time with her best friend, as she should, and he's just pre-mourning the decrease in their interactions. That's all.

He's not sure he's ready to acknowledge the fact that instead of sitting a few seats away on the bride's right side, he'd maybe (definitely) rather be the one sitting directly on her left.

___

It would be easier if Matthew was a crappy fiancé or a bad guy.

He's not. He actually loves April, following her like a puppy, and even if party planning is not his forte and he doesn't look too interested in the finer aspects of the wedding, you can see he wants to make his bride happy, saying yes to practically anything she wants.

Practically.

"I don't see why he doesn't want the 'mint-to-be' mints. That's a great pun!"

"It's not."

"It is!"

"And to think that you make fun of me when I tell dad jokes."

Now that the wedding is getting closer, they're working on the seating plan. Between the Kepner sisters' tendency to have beef with almost every one of their cousins and blood relations and their coworkers' ongoing drama at the hospital, designing a seating chart that will prevent any explosion during the reception is a delicate task that she hasn't wanted to outsource to anyone else.

"So you never told me. Are you bringing a plus one?"

"I am."

He already feels bad he's been having all these thoughts, and feels even worse when he realizes he's hoping for a reaction from her, anything, to show him he's not crazy.

"Really? Do I know her?"

Her tone is cheerful, but years of practice of being April's friend make him notice it's not as enthusiastic as it could be.

Or maybe it's just wishful thinking.

"You do, actually."

He thinks he sees something in her gaze, soon chased by a polite look of curiosity. She bites her lip and looks cautious, almost afraid to ask the next question, so he takes pity on her and doesn't keep her waiting.

"It's my mom, you dork. You think she'd miss your wedding? I didn't even have to ask her, she invited herself."

He's rewarded by a genuine April smile, one that showcases her dimple and reaches her eyes, and his breath catches in his throat for a second too long.

He's definitely, completely screwed.

___

"Can I ask you something?"

"No, April, I will not get a Pinterest account."

"No, it's not that! I mean you should, it would actually be easi– never mind," she backtracks when she sees his face. "I, it's... very personal?"

He blinks once. Twice.

"Yes?"

"You know how I'm a, well, a virgin," and the way she whispers that last word is so endearing he has to clench his fists to stay grounded.

"And Matthew is as well. We haven't done anything, like, we kissed, sure, and there was one time when we were in the heat of the moment and we almost, well, you know, but we didn't, and..."

He closes his eyes.

"April. Do you have a question?"

Sex is the last thing he wants to talk about with her. More precisely, sex between her and her fiancé. But he has decided that he won't ever be anything more than her best friend, the one who's always had her back ever since they were the last two Mercy West residents left. If he can't be the one who promises to honor and cherish her until death do them part, then he'll still be the one who vowed to protect her and be on her side no matter what.

Her cheeks are now a flaming red, and he thinks he sees something in her eyes before she drops her gaze and suddenly becomes very interested in studying her shoes.

"I'm just scared, that's all. And I have so many questions, but I guess that's normal. And I don't want to talk to Matthew about it, because it's weird, so I wanted to ask you, and..."

His mouth is dry, and he's pretty sure he's forgotten how to breathe. She breaks the moment though, shaking her head and plastering a fake smile on her face.

"Never mind, it's silly. Now, are you sure about that Pinterest account? I can send you an invite, so you could create your own boards, and then–"

___

"Your mom would so get a kick out of this."

"Say one word to her and I'll tell her how many times you practiced your speech before you met her for the first time when we were interns."

"You're a grumpus, you know that?"

"Anything for you."

Because his life is a complete joke at this point, he's dancing with April. Because of course, April has scheduled dance lessons for her and Matthew's first dance as husband and wife. And of course, Matthew Taylor, paramedic extraordinaire, had to be called away because of an accident just outside of Seattle right before the lesson. And of course the lesson couldn't be rescheduled, leaving April to plead with him to come with her so she can learn the choreography and teach Matthew later. It took the combined efforts of her puppy eyes and her dimple to convince him, but here he is, waltzing with her, not at all feeling like he could explode any minute.

"I'm just saying, looks like your fancy Avery dance lessons paid off, that's all."

"Well at least you– Ouch! That was my foot!"

She makes a face.

"Sorry, sorry! I have no coordination. Moline didn't have fancy balls or ballet classes, you know."

"Just your regular Cotton-Eyed Joe line dance in a barn?"

He kind of deserves it when she crushes his foot for the second time. At least she went for the other one this time. April Kepner is nothing but considerate.

"Listen, you have to relax and let me lead. Let the pro show you how it's done."

She nods, and he tightens his grasp on her waist, bringing her closer to him. They start moving in rhythm with the music, one two three one two three, and his heartbeats soon become wild, rushing faster than the music and making him dizzy. He makes the mistake of looking her in the eye, and the other dancers, the music, everything else disappears. He doesn't know how they're still moving, because he's not leading anymore, he's not sure he can do anything but stare at her. All of his attention is focused on the redhead in front of him, the gorgeous, unbelievable, freaking engaged redhead who looks at him with a glint in her eye and her mouth slightly open.

If it were anyone else, he would do it. He would wear his big boy's pants, close the gap between them and kiss the hell out of her, consequences be damned.

But it's April. His best friend April. The most important relationship in his life, and he can't, won't begrudge her the happiness she's chosen for herself. He's trying to tell himself he's being selfless here and ignore the little voice telling him that he's a coward.

When the song ends, he remembers how to breathe, and he sees something in April's eyes that almost sweeps all of his convictions away. He opens his mouth, but she shakes her head and turns away, walking a bit too fast towards the changing room.

You're not a coward, says the little voice. You're just an idiot.

___

He knows April loves his apartment, because she had spent a solid twenty minutes raving about the hardwood floors and the balcony and the Seattle views from his living-room the first time she'd visited. So obviously, he volunteers his place for the bachelorette party, cringing every time a Kepner sister brushes past one of the paintings on the walls or holds a crystal wine glass a bit too firmly.

He's the maid of honor, so he's vetoed the stripper the Kepners wanted to hire ("you have pretty eyes, but you're a buzzkill," were Libby's exact words when he told them the news, but given that Libby's tastes in everything seem to greatly differ from her sister's, he doesn't attach too much importance to her opinion) and opted for something simple. Gifts, drinks, snacks, music and games: as far as April is concerned, that's the recipe for a good night, so that's what she gets.

"Oookay April!" Arizona shouts a little bit too enthusiastically (who knew Robbins was such a fun drunk?). "What's Matthew's favorite color?"

"Blue. No wait, brown. Or something."

He's more than a little buzzed, so he joins the others in laughing away her hesitation and takes another sip of his beer. Who has brown as a favorite color?

"Last question. What's the first thing you're planning to do once Matthew and you are finally aloooone after the wedding?"

April ignores the whistles and suggestive comments and answers, with a straight face (but he knows her and doesn't miss the tilt in her voice that says she knows what she's doing), "I don't know, remove my shoes? I'm sure my feet will be killing me after hours in heels, and– why are you laughing?"

The guests soon turn the music up and start dancing and jumping around, and he's happy the party is going well, but he needs a few minutes away from all the squealing and the loud music. When he slides open the door to his balcony, he finds out that of course she had the same idea.

"Are you hiding from your own bachelorette party?"

Startled, she turns towards him with a half-smile.

"No, it's pretty perfect. I just needed to get some air."

He joins her on the edge of the balcony, leaning on the railing, and she turns her gaze back to the city.

"I love this view."

"So you tell me every time you're here."

His eyes are focused on the city lights in front of them, but he can hear her smile.

"You know me well. You know, when we were playing that game when I had to answer questions about Matthew. I was thinking that you and I would probably get perfect scores if we had to answer questions about each other."

Taking his heart out of his chest, crushing it on the ground and stomping on it a few times would probably hurt less than this.

"Yeah?"

His voice is unsteady, a dark contrast to the confidence he usually exudes.

"Yeah. Like your secret hobby?" She points to the telescope behind them. "It's astronomy, because your grandfather would take you to the planetarium when you were a kid and you still remember the names of all the constellations. Your favorite meal? Definitely chicken tetrazzini. And favorite color? Come on, it's dark green. We would so crush this."

He doesn't trust himself to talk, so he just nods. Slowly, she gets closer to him, but he keeps his gaze fixed on the buildings in front of them. If he doesn't look at her, he can do this. If he doesn't look at her, he can keep pretending his heart is not bleeding and he can stop himself from yelling he loves her to anyone who would listen.

"Jackson. Look at me."

He shakes his head.

"Jackson."

Because he can't refuse her anything, he turns his head and notices how close they are. Notices her slowly raising her arm and bringing her hand to his cheek. His heart is pounding, and his brain is telling him not to lean towards her.

He ignores his brain and starts moving in her direction.

"April! Avery! Come back inside, we put on the chicken dance like you wanted!"

Arizona Robbins is evil.

April closes her eyes for a moment and puts a hand on her neck, massaging a spot. She seems like she's about to say something, but she closes her mouth and heads inside, letting out the sound of a flurry of laughs when she opens the glass door.

He stays outside a few more minutes. Or hours. He doesn't know anything anymore.

___

The rehearsal dinner is kind of a torture for him.

Everyone is happy and smiling and mingling. April is radiant, stunning in her pale pink dress that makes her look like a princess, and he feels like a traitor, but he would rather be anywhere – a dentist appointment, an Avery foundation board meeting, hell, even one of his boards sessions – than here.

"Damn, Avery. Who pissed in your cheerios this morning?"

"I'm fine, Karev."

"Right. You've been nursing the same scotch since we arrived here, and Jo just asked me if you were born with that frown between your eyebrows."

He stays silent, because that's usually the best technique when dealing with Alex.

"Just saying. I've never seen a maid of honor looking so angry at a wedding. Well, if you don't count that chick in that twenty-something dresses movie."

It says a lot that he's not jumping on Alex's apparently secret knowledge of romantic comedies and making fun of him.

"It's just a stomach bug."

"Is that why you didn't want to make a speech tonight?"

I didn't want to make a speech, because I'm selfish and I don't want to wish April all the happiness in the world if that happiness is not with me. Because I'm angry at her for being so happy with someone else, and I'm angry at myself for not realizing I loved her earlier. Because if I have to toast my best friend and say nice things about her, I'm pretty sure I'll end up confessing my undying love to her, and I don't think Mr. and Mrs. Kepner, or Matthew, or anyone would be happy with that. Because if I see her squeeze Matthew's arm one more time and smile at him, I'm going to lose it, and it's not going to be pretty. Because I'm an Avery, and I've never felt so helpless before.

"Yeah, that's why."

___

"I thought the bride was the only one allowed to freak out before the wedding."

He turns around at the sound of her voice. Almost everybody is seated inside the barn where the ceremony is going to take place, and he'd thought that him taking a breather before the big moment would go unnoticed. His breath catches in his throat when he takes everything in, her dress, her pink lips, the braid of red hair framing her face, her eyes shining. She looks absolutely perfect. If he believed in soulmates, he would easily think she's his, and for the first time, he thinks that seeing her getting married to someone else is actually going to kill him.

"Averys don't freak out."

"Kepners do. Or at least used to."

He raises an eyebrow, wanting her to keep going, but her father calls after them, saying Jackson better get to his assigned position before the bride makes her grand entrance. She squeezes his hand and he turns around to go back to the barn, resisting the urge to say goodbye and flee.

The next steps go according to plan. He takes his place next to Arizona at the front of the barn, the organ starts playing the wedding march, the guests all stand up and April walks along the aisle, a vision in white, clutching her father's arm and smiling left and right, gaze unable to focus. Just before she joins Matthew, she steals a glance towards him, and her eyes are a storm of emotions.

Jackson doesn't really hear the minister start the ceremony. He's too busy trying to analyze the tightening in his chest, his mind replaying the moment he had with April just a few minutes ago, and the day before, and all the moments they had ever since they met at Mercy West in their weird orange scrubs.

I’m April Kepner, I’m from Ohio and I'm super excited to be near the ocean, although I don’t really know how I feel about the rain yet.

Jackson. It's okay, it's just a nightmare.

Well, April is the only friend I have left here.

We will be fine.

Will you be my maid of honor?

Can I ask you something? It's, uhm, very personal.

You're a grumpus, you know that?

We would so crush this.

Jackson, look at me.

He feels Arizona nudge him, drawing him out of his daydream, and he sees her mouth "Are you okay?", but nothing doesn't really register, except for one thing. It's now or never.

So many people are going to kill him.

He takes a few steps down from where the bridal party is positioned and finds himself standing in front of April and Matthew, who turn around, confused about his interruption.

You're not a coward. You're an idiot.

He takes a deep breath and tilts his head to the side. Here goes nothing.

"I love you, April. I always have. I love everything about you."

#japril #japril ff #japril fanfiction #april kepner #jackson avery #grey's anatomy #grey's fanfic #jackson x april #jackson and april #writing #fanfiction #one shot #my fics

57 notes · View notes

cherrycola27 · 2 years

Text

SIREN'S SONG

Chapter 7: Great Balls of Fire

Paring: Roosterx OC Captain Harper Ann "Siren" Mitchell

Warnings: Mentions of Ejection, injuries, cursing, drinking, and allusions smut 18+ only Minors DNI

A/N: This chapter is inspired by the song "Great Balls of Fire... but more specifically the Top Gun Maverick version. This has been my favorite chapter to write so far... please enjoy!

Four months had passed since the mission. The Navy was so appreciative of the success they gave the Dagger Squad some much needed time off. Rooster had settled in well to his new role at Top Gun. He and Harper had also settled in well to being a couple.

When they had returned he officially moved in with her even though Harper insisted he had been officially moved in with her months before. The couple had a well established routine. Work, friends, family, and amazing sex. They were happy. Sure they has small fights about stupid things and they were both stubborn as hell, but at the end of the day they were lovers and best friends. The perfect match.

It was a warm Friday afternoon Rooster was supposed to be meeting Harper at their favorite spot at the beach soon but he needed to make a pit stop first. He had told Harper he had left his phone charger in his office back on base and he needed to get it but in reality he was over at Maverick's.

"Alright Bradley let's see it. Maverick said rubbing his hands together. "Look at it Mav, isn't it beautiful... think she will like it?" Bradley side as he asked his pseudo-father proudly showing off the engagement ring he had in his hand. "Rooster it's beautiful. She is going to love it."

"Thanks Pete, it's just as special to me as she is. The center stone came from the necklace Dad gave mom when they got married. I chose that because I buried her with her wedding ring.... she wore it even after Dad died and I couldn't bear to take it from her." Rooster said tearing up. "The smaller diamonds came with the setting I think they really make the center stone pop. And I went with rose gold because Harper hates yellow gold and she thinks silver is too over done. So it's something one of a kind and unique just like her." Rooster continued placing the ring back into his pocket.

"So the plan is for Penny to fake some sort of emergency at the Hard Deck while we go to the beach and set up. Then I am going to go 'save' her. We are going to take a walk to our favorite spot while you, P, Ameila and the Daggers get the Hard Deck ready for the after party or my funeral... depending on what she says." Rooster explained to the old man.

"Bradley she is going to say yes. She loves you. Stop worrying and let's go!" Pete ushered the younger pilot out the door. He understood how nervous Rooster was. He had been the same way when he was going to propose to Penny. He had also seen the same nerves when Goose asked Carole to marry him.

"Penny Benjamin Mitchell" Harper stated with her hands on her hips looking at her mother. "How do you forget to install kegs? You own a fucking bar... you sell enough beer here every night to fill ten pools I swear! Harper huffed. "It's not that I forgot honey... its just these two are so big it's a two man job and Jimmy is off for the week and you were already here. Penny said struggling against the large container. Her daughter had no idea that entire story was a lie. She might be mad now but she would thank her later...

"Harper.... Penny.... anyone here?" Rooster called out through the empty bar. "In the back!" Both women shouted in unison.

"A little to the left and there.... woo... perfect. Thanks for your help honey." Penny said giving Harper a hug... "any time mom" Harper replied panting

"Well if you ladies are done here.... I believe we have a date Ms. Mitchell" Bradley said taking her had.

"We most certainly do Mr. Bradshaw" Harper replied threading her fingers with his. "Have fun you two" Penny yelled as the couple walking out the front door. Moments later Pete, Amelia, Jimmy, and the Dagger Squad entered through the back door and began to set up.

Harper and Rooster walk happily along the beach talking and laughing. Soon they had made it to their favorite spot where Roosters Bronco was parked. He quickly let the tailgate down and set out a blanket. Harper hopped up as Rooster pulled out his old guitar from beside her.

"Oh.. are you going to serenade me my love?" Harper asked

"Something like that." Bradley replied. He fiddled with this strings and began to slowly play the first cords of a song Harper new all too well

"You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain" he began at a much slower tempo than normal

"Too much love drives a man insane"

"You broke my will, but what a thrill" He began to sway back and forth. Harper smiled at him

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire"

"I laughed at love 'cause I thought it was funny"

"But you came along and you moved me, honey" Rooster shot a wink at her

"I changed my mind, this love is fine"

"Goodness, gracious, great balls of fire" he sang earnestly

"Kiss me, baby" Harper blew him a kiss

"Ooh, that feels good, baby"

"Hold me, baby"

"I wanna love you like a lover should"

"You're fine, you're so kind" he began to sing even slower as he walked closer to her.

"I'ma tell the world that you're mine, mine, mine, mine"

He drew out the last note and put his guitar down. Bradley grabbed both of Harper's hands.

"Baby." He began "I have loved you since before I even knew what love was. You have supported me through all of my ups and downs. I don't know how you put up with my dumbass... I swear you are an angel. You have been my biggest support and motivation. You are kind, smart, caring, stubborn, funny, considerate, and so full of love. I could not do this life without you. And I do want to let the whole world know that you are mine now and forever." Bradley dropped to one knee... "So, Harper Ann Mitchell.... Will You Mary Me?" Rooster pulled the ring out of his pocket and held it out while he waited for her answer.

"Oh my God Yes! Yes Bradley I will marry you!" Harper almost shouted with tears in her eyes. With shaky hands. Rooster placed the ring on her finger. Harper launched herself off the tailgate of the Bronco and tackled him to the sand peppering his face with kisses. "I love you so much Harper" Rooster told her cradling her cheek. "I love you so much to Bradley" She smiled back.

"Well... I guess we need to go show off your new ring to Penny and Mav. They should be at the Hard Deck." Rooster told her. Harper happily obliged her boyfriend... err fiancé and they began to walk back. On the way back Harper couldn't take her eyes off the ring. Bradley explained how the center diamond had once belong to his mom and the sentiment around the ring. If it was even possible Harper fell more in love with that man.

"Baby? Why is no one at the Hard Deck and the lights off?" Harper asked as the couple approached the bar and walked in. Before Rooster could answer "Surprise!" Pennt flipped the lights on as the Daggerr Squad, Maverick, Amelia, and Jimmy jumped from their hiding places. The bar was covered in streamers and balloons. Over the stage hung a "She said YES!" banner.

Everyone rushed forward to congratulate the couple. All of the girls fawned over Harper's engagement ring and sighed when she told them the story behind it and how the center diamond had belonged to Roosters mother.

The men of the Dagger Squad congratulated Rooster and gave him a pat on the back. "So as your best man I am obviously going to plan a kick ass bachelor party. I'm thinking Vegas, party bus, bottle service, strippers..." Hangman announced to Rooster and the gang. "Who said you were going to be my best man Bagman?" Rooster asked him.

"Dude I am you'd best friend... I saved your life... its literally my right to be your best man and throw the most epic bachelor party!" Jake said while he dramatically waved his arms. "As much as I am sure you would enjoy your idea for my bachelor party.... I am not down for Vegas or strippers... I was thinking a weekend golf trip to Tahoe." Rooster told him. Hangman sighed dramatically yet again "Ugh fine if you want to have a boring bachelor party fine but we are taking a party bus to the golf courses" Jake stated compromising.

As the night went on there was laughter, happy conversations and lots of hugs. Jake continued to try and persuade Rooster to change his mind about Vegas even going as far as to bet a game of pool on it. Meanwhile Harper asked Phoenix and Halo if they would be two of her bridesmaids. Amelia jumped up and down and hugged her so tight when Harper asked her to be her Maid of Honor.

Soon friends and family started making their way home. Harper and Rooster were the only two left. Penny told then to stay as long as they wanted to just to lock up when they left.

Rooster went and keyed up a song on the Juke Box and then pulled Harper into the middle of the empty bar. They danced together as Elvis sang "Can't Help Falling in Love With You."

Bradley placed a tender kiss to the top of Harper's head as she snuggled under his chin. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked up at him.

"Hey Rooster, you big stud" Harper called out using the line Aunt Carole told her she always used on Uncle Goose "That's me Honey" Rooster replied cracking a smile

Harper stood up on her tip toes to whisper in his ear. "Take me to bed or lose me forever"

"Show me the way home Honey!" Rooster called back pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

He laced his fingers with hers and carefully lead her to his waiting Bronco. On the drive him Rooster looked over to see that his fiancée had fallen asleep. The excitement of the day finally catching up to her. He pulled in the driveway and unlocked the door.

He carefully opened the passenger side door of his car and picked up the sleeping woman. He carried her into the house and up the stairs. He made sure to take off her shoes before laying her down on the bed. Bradley had wanted get both of them changed into some sleep clothes, but as she went to pull away Harper had a death grip around his neck. He chuckled to himself admitting defeat and laying down beside her. Harper sighed and cuddled up next to Rooster as she wrapped an arm around him.

And there in that moment, for the first time in a long time, Bradley Bradshaw and Harper Mitchell were both truly happy.

Oh my God my heart almost melted and I may have shed a few tears writing this. This has definitely been my favorite chapter so far. I hope you all enjoyed it!

Tag List: @marvelsvalhalla @shanimallina87 @tallrock35

#top gun #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster smut #rooster top gun #rooster x oc #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x oc

48 notes · View notes

demonfox38 · 1 year

Text

Completed - Final Fantasy IV

Okay, what would you prefer to call this? "Final Fantasy IV Easy Type"? Just "Final Fantasy II"? What's in a number, anyway?

So, my sister got married!

In all honesty, this was a point of stress for my parents and me for the last six months. Not that we had any qualms with the groom! He's solid. The issue was that the wedding was taking place in Colorado. You may have heard me mention that I live in Iowa. So, okay. Just take a flight, right? And you would be right, if your family wasn't paranoid or had any available back-up help. It was my parents, three dogs, and my ass in a van for a day one way, each way, hoping to God that some emergency didn't crop up.

I drove in a hailstorm, man. In a vehicle type that I had never driven before.

And then I had to give a speech at the wedding!

Everything went about as well as could be expected! Well, minus the COVID-19 outbreak that happened afterwards. (Yours truly did not fall ill. Yay for vaccines and a functioning immune system!) But, I had to do a lot of preparing to get to that point. Readying outfits and a speech, practicing stress reduction techniques and mindfulness, accepting what I could and could not control, staying focused on the present moment. Stuff like that. Several of the games I picked this year were selected to help that process. "Super Mario Bros." was some kind of Cognitive Behavioral Therapy session. "Resident Evil 4" was…well, we all know about what "Resident Evil 4" does to one's nerves. "Baroque" ended up being a good exercise in rolling with the punches. "Star Fox Zero" and "Star Fox 64" were last minute confidence boosters, helping me to remember what I had learned. I'm sure "Lunar 2" did something as well, but honestly, sometimes you just need a break, too.

Finally free of all obligations, I decided to spend my Memorial Day weekend in total hedonism. Given the circumstances, weddings were still on my mind. "Say," my thoughts went, "I should play a video game with a wedding in it. What do I have at home for that?"

"Final Fantasy IV" and "The Legend of Zelda: Majora's Mask" came to mind.

I decided that the first five months of my year was enough of an anxiety attack without adding "Majora's Mask" to it.

"Final Fantasy IV" chronicles the tales of Cecil Harvey, a dark knight with a troubled conscience. After witnessing and participating in multiple atrocities, he gets it in his head that Golly Jee Wilikers, maybe his king and army sucks. Along his path to redemption, he recruits (and frequently loses) multiple people to aid him in his quest to reclass himself into a better person and maybe stop the dickheads he was working for from ruining the entire planet and its moons.

Does he succeed? Err…

Well, he fails his way up, at least.

The particular version of this "Final Fantasy" that I played was the original NTSC Super Nintendo release. Which, I'm assuming you know by now, was called "Final Fantasy II." I'm guessing if you know about this game, you know about the whole clusterfuck of the naming convention behind it, so I'm going to skip the spiel. I just wanted you to know what variant I played before we got too deep into this. Because damn, does this game have multitudes.

Name shenanigans aside, "Final Fantasy IV" is very much the younger sibling of "Final Fantasy II" in terms of overall tone and progression. Both plots toss characters aside like rejected toys the first chance they get. While "IV" is kinder than "II" in terms of fatalities, it absolutely sets up its roster mutilation as the same bloody mess as its predecessor. It just doesn't have the guts to commit to its vile deeds. Spoilers, but of all the party members that appear to die at one point or another, only one stays truly dead. It's wild, considering the multitudes that come and go.

Where "IV" gets meaner is in how much Cecil is an absolute disaster of a hero. Not that he doesn't try to do the right thing or is anything less than civil about his actions. Everything he tries to do goes to shit. Magical crystals get stolen routinely. His girlfriend gets sick, then kidnapped. His best friend is brainwashed so often that the folds of his cerebrum have gone smooth. Hell, he even loses multiple child co-stars in horrific ways. Not to mention what a disaster his family is! Absolute (multiple) shipwreck(s) of a man. Sometimes, it feels like he only succeeds because he keeps getting new rides from his friends (who then, of course, end up hospitalized for the rest of the game because that's how "Final Fantasy IV" rolls.)

What nerfs this initial experience is the translation for this version of the game. Like, we all have a good laugh about Garland "knock(ing) you all down" and Ted Woosley's particular flavor of "Final Fantasy VI"'s translation. Those at least were generally grammatically correct. This one has a lot of strange, startling errors. Like, mixing up the contracted verbs don’t and wouldn't, frequent fragmented sentences, using weird "Legend of Zelda"-esque possessive patterns (like, "sword of dark force"), and so on. It's understandable, if you look at the credits for this game and what happened to its translators. Only one out of the three did translation work for more than one game, and even she pivoted to different roles after this release. It's better than something like "Samurai-Ghost", but it is still weirdly off. It may have been excessive to get a fourth translator, but man. Another set of eyes could have helped.

I saw a line that was (to paraphrase) something along the lines of "These people can summon monsters! They're known as Callers!" And something within me became anemic.

Nintendo's archaic censorship policies did nothing to help this translation, either. It's very hard to have this overwrought story about interplanetary suffering and fatalities when the translators aren't allowed to use terms like kill, death, or dead. Not to mention how weird it gets when holy becomes white and pray becomes wish. I mean, it reads better than the average TikTok censor-dodging speech, but it's still painfully noticeable.

I'm just saying. "Earthbound" got to have a Pray function not 3 years later. It makes a world of difference to be able to say what you mean. (The ESRB may be a fussy nanny, but if Nintendo's old policy was the alternative, I'll take the fussy nanny any day. Plus, it'll also tell you how newer games will scar you for life on their website! So, wee!)

Another surprisingly wonky feature of this game is its menu system. Like, you don't usually think about menus, right? You just click on things and execute functions. There's an annoying behavior to this game's X menu that didn't sit well with me. Every time you want to use an item or a spell, you would be returned to the root of the submenu in question. So, you couldn't just sit there and spam spells or potions on someone to get them back to full health as soon as possible. It's a little nitpick, but it's one of those irritants that added up for me.

The programmer here did go on to make much better menus for subsequent "Final Fantasy" games, so credit where credit is due! There was just a little growing pain to be had with this title. And really, the battle menu is pretty solid (minus an item duplication glitch, but hey! What's a "Final Fantasy" game without that?) Being able to split spells and pick targets is a nice feature! It's simple and often overlooked, but I think it should still be appreciated. You didn't have that in the first "Final Fantasy." And it also auto-corrects attacking units targeting a dead enemy, so that's also good!

I can be a positive reviewer! I swear!

Aesthetically, this game is a bit split down the middle in terms of quality. I mean, it's the earliest "Final Fantasy" game for the Super Nintendo, and a very early Super Nintendo game to boot. So, you're not exactly getting the beautiful, consistent pixel art from "Final Fantasy VI" here. It definitely looks like something that got upscaled from the Nintendo Entertainment System. However, there are still some cool sprites in the mix. The music is usually pretty good, too! The only one that threw me off was a piece titled "Another Moon." Because, hey. I get it. The moon's gonna be a weird place to go for an RPG. But, listen to that and tell me you weren't thinking of squeaking monkeys or the farty Mansion Basement theme from the Director's Cut of "Resident Evil."

And, hey—if you need a palette cleanser, "The Lunarians" isn't a bad moon piece. Occasionally, the game can handle the moon just right!

Had I played the "Final Fantasy" games in order, I think I would have found this game more challenging. Its latter half loads up on bosses that require more advanced tactics to overcome, particularly for its optional content. I suspect that if you are playing this game, it's going to be after the likes of more popular titles like "VI", "VII", and "X". A lot of those games borrow from this game's bag of tricks. But, once you see things like Reflect Magic Spam boss and Death Countdown boss, having that tossed at you isn't going to be much of a curveball.

I'm not saying you won't ever die. It's just going to be one of those things where you'll quickly see what you did wrong, reset, and knock it out of the park. Past number crunching, all you have to contend with is bastard semi-opaque walls and donking your way around hidden paths. Hell, you might even have the skills for that by now.

Do I like "Final Fantasy IV"? Yeah, in the same way I like an average Disney animated movie. It tries to have fangs from time to time, but its gnawing comes off as more endearing than threatening. It's still a generally good experience! I just wouldn't expect you to have a religious awakening playing it.

Do I think you should play the NTSC SNES variant of "Final Fantasy IV"? You absolutely can do better. You can get versions for various consoles (like the Playstation, Game Boy Advance, Nintendo DS, and Sony PSP), as well as on Steam. The Playstation release seems to be closest aesthetically to the original release, but I do have a fondness for the audio and pixel-crunchy Game Boy Advance release, as that one is a bit closer to "Final Fantasy VI" in appearance. The Nintendo DS version is if you're into low poly 3D models, and the Sony PSP version is for those who like to smear Vaseline into their eyeballs!

Any way you slice it, you can at least get something better to read. Assuming the Vaseline doesn't damage your vision, anyway.

#post game evaluation #final fantasy iv #please enjoy me talking too much about my personal life and this wonky screenshot

7 notes · View notes