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brainmaniaman · 4 years ago

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2019 Kia Soul (Bertholdt Hoover/Reader Smut)

PAIRING: Bertholdt Hoover/Reader, mentions of Eren Yeager/Reader AU: my own personal toxic!roommate eren/reader/stoner bertholdt hoover au PLOT LINE: your toxic roommate eren has been telling everyone that you've been official for nearly a month now, despite only having what you thought to be casual hookups. you decide it's in best practice to flex your freedom as a single woman and fuck one of his friends. bertholdt was always nicer to you, anyways. BACKGROUND: basically . . . like my friend and i came up with a toxic eren / reader alternate universe but i am too lazy to actually put it into an actual cohesive storyline so i'm just going to make different works of fiction and put it in the same cinematic universe ig. idk my friend basically said "i feel like bertholdt would have so much anxiety in a modern au that he'd self-medicate with marijuana and become a major pothead" and like, idk i fell in love with it. i literally do not care if you don't like toxic eren because he is the love of my life and that's just how it be. there's actually a cohesive storyline it'll come together somehow it's just not in sequential order. TAGS/WARNINGS: NSFW, recreational drug use, sex while high, reader is definitely topping bertholdt i'm not sorry, car sex, dry grinding, top!fem reader, bottom!bertholdt, light toxic! eren/reader, lots of exposition WORD COUNT: 5,436

JANUARY 23RD, 2021

Even though you loved Historia, you hated parties. It wasn't that you thought you were better parties - in fact, you could see why people enjoyed them. Even so, there was something about the noise and the strobe vicious lighting that assaulted your eyes. Despite this, Historia's parties were always incredibly fun - something about the overall vibe of her parties was excellent simply based on the fact that they weren't normal. Sure, the atmosphere was normal. Drunk people still stumbled and fumbled all over the lawn, laughing as they danced and toppled over each other. It was no different inside, either. All sorts of people stumbled up and down the large bannister inside of a very large home. (One might even call it a mansion, but for some reason - you hated the word mansion. It just felt pretentious. )The only difference? Everyone was dressed to the absolute nines. Those who weren't in suits or small dresses were in outfits branded with all sorts of designer logos - some so high-end that you couldn't even recognize them. In all honesty, it felt like something ripped straight out of The Great Gatsby. For a second, you surveyed your surroundings. Despite it only being 10pm, you could already pinpoint a few people who were passed out in the front yard. "(Name) -" Historia had practically bound down the front steps of her home, waving at you with a big smile. Trailing lazily behind her was her girlfriend Ymir, who defied the dress code of the party by simply wearing jeans and a nice top, with her hands shoved in her pockets. "So good to see you!" A few guys dressed in very nice, but now very crumpled, suits pushed past the three of you, though only made it a few steps before leaning over to hurl. "Wonderful . . ." you muttered to yourself. "Good to see you, too" You leaned down and exchanged a hug with Historia. For a second, you and Ymir shared a tense moment - but both of you relented, simply nodding in each other's direction. Given that the two of you had a somewhat intense relationship, one that was characterized by constant banter and quips, simply acknowledging each other's existence without bursting into flames was a great step in the right direction for the both of you. "You look good!" Historia complimented the very tiny red dress and very high heels you donned. "Thanks." was your short response, unsure of how exactly to proceed with the conversation. What else were you supposed to say? There was a silent pause. "Look - there's Armin!" Historia broke the silence, desperately grasping for any form of conversation. She raised herself onto her toes, waving at Armin above the crowd. Armin waved back cheerfully, uncharacteristically happy to be at the party; perhaps it was because he was content being surrounded by his friends. "And don't forget (Name)'s boyfriend, Eren" You almost choked on your spit. "Excuse me?" You interjected, your head creaking in Ymir's direction, clearly in a state of shock and disbelief. "Your boyfriend, Eren." Ymir repeated, this time slower - as though you were stupid. "I don't know what you see in that asshole, though" You turned your head towards Eren, who stood several feet away from you, seemed clearly pleased - you could tell by the way that the corners of his mouth turned upwards in a slight smirk. He even had the audacity to send you an arrogant little wave, his fingers wriggling playfully. I'm - you thought, I'm going to suffocate him in his sleep - "Oh, hush" Historia interrupted, "You don't know what their relationship is like - besides, Eren isn't all the bad. I'm sure the two of you have quite an interesting dynamic going on between you . . ." Ymir scoffed at Historia's comment, ". . . one that isn't any of our business!" ". . . right, because Eren is the world's best boyfriend. . ." Ymir wasn't convinced. For a bit, you were too stunned to speak - but after the three of you fell into another uncomfortable

silence, the anger radiating from you being so thick that you could cut it with a knife, you finally spoke up. "Who . . . who the fuck did you hear that shit from?" You were livid. "Whoever told you that . . . was a fucking idiot and you're a dumbass for believing it" "Woah, what the fuck?" Ymir responded quickly, "I don't know who you think you're talking to, but it's sure as hell not me. Why don't you take a couple steps and calm the fuck down? Eren told everyone last month's game night at my place that you two had been at it for a while and were now a thing. Maybe if you actually came to a game night, you'd know what the fuck is going on -" "Ymir." Historia breathed out a word of caution, a slight edge in her voice. "That's not -" "For Christ's sake, Historia? You're just gonna let her talk shit like that? Man, fuck this - I'm not going to sit around and let someone talk to me like this, I'm going inside." It wasn't like Ymir to leave Historia's side, but the reality was that she was beyond pissed; that and she had the confidence that Historia would follow shortly after - which she was right about. "I'm sorry" Historia let out a flurry of apologies. "We all thought it was kind of weird, given how tough your housing situation is . . ." "No," You responded sheepishly, "I should apologize . . . I shouldn't have lashed out like that" You rubbed the back of your neck nervously. "I should probably apologize to . . ." "Now probably isn't the best time . . . maybe later?" Historia answered honestly. You nodded a bit, the palm of your hand still resting on the back of your neck. "I don't want to leave you here alone, but . . ." You were about to interrupt Historia and tell her that you would fare fine, but her expression seemed to light up a bit as she saw Armin approaching. "Oh, perfect - Armin is this way! I'll let you two talk a bit while I go see where Ymir went off to . . . talk to you soon!" "Talk to you soon . . ." "Hey!" Now you were face to face with Armin, who was beaming straight at you, only looking away for a split second to exchange a quick hello with Historia once moer. However, his smile faded a bit when he noticed the frown that was curling at your lips. ". . . are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm uh . . . fine" You were scratching nervous rash into the back of your neck by now, "I like your new haircut. It looks nice on you." "You think so?" Armin ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it around a bit, though was clearly happy with the compliment. "Eren suggested it . . . said my hair was getting too long . . . kind of ironic, considering his hair is so long he keeps it in a bun - right?" "Right . . . right . . ." You trailed off a bit. You wet your dry bottom lip with your tongue, clearly uncomfortable. "So, uh . . . speaking of Eren . . . did he, uh . . . he hasn't said anything about us being like, a thing or anything right?" What little smile was left on Armin's face completely disappeared. "Uh - you're not dating?" "Nooo . . ." You drawled out the o's, so embarrassed that you couldn't even make eye contact with him. ". . . well, this is awkward." Armin pinched the bridge of his nose. As far as he had been concerned, both you and Eren had been dating for nearly a month now. "Yeah . . . it is. It's just . . . well, he said at the group game night that you two were . . . you know, a thing, and . . . well, we just assumed because the two of you live together and you're . . . well, you know . . . you've -" "Had sex?" Armin's face turned red at your statement. "Well, yeah - but that was a mistake on our part." "Clearly." He was growing increasingly more nervous. "I - I'm sorry" Armin sputtered out, wringing his hands together in front of him. "It's not your fault." "I know - but -" Armin pressed the palm of his hand to his forehead, clearly very stressed out. " - I'll fix it. Just

stay here."

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You did not stay in your place. In fact, mere seconds after Armin had disappeared into the crowd to find his friend and sort out this awful situation, you found yourself awfully angry, bored, and alone - and there was nobody around you to take your mind off the fact that your roommate wasn't only an asshole but he was also a liar. Of course, that was before you saw a very familiar figure huddled over the fence at the edge of the property, holding in his hand what was very clearly a blunt. Much like Ymir, he was very casually dressed - except unlike Ymir, he hadn't even bothered wearing a nice shirt with his jeans . . . simply his standard, oversized, blue sweater with the white collar of his shirt folded over the edges. Excitement bubbled in your stomach at the sight of Bertholdt - someone you actually liked. "Hey - Bert - !" You were waddling in your heels over to him, desperately trying to keep your heels from sinking into the dirt, "Don't finish that blunt! Save some for me!" He looked over his shoulder, his eyes locking with yours. For a second, it seemed like he didn't recognize you. You tripped over your heels, stumbling forward. It wasn't until he caught you, hoisting you up by the elbows back onto your feet, that he realized who you were. Bertholdt's gaze moved from your eyes to your chest and his face exploded red before he respectfully shot his eyes in a separate direction out of sheer panic. "Don't be stingy -!" You exclaimed, pointing your index finger to your lips, "Put the damn thing between my lips! I know you keep like, an ounce on you at all times - so you can miss me with that but this is my last joint shit" Bertholdt seemed beside himself by your sudden demands. For a second, it even took him quite a bit to process what the hell you were even saying. "Eh -?" "Are you too high to understand me?" You teased. "Weed. Lips. Now." "I don't know . . . last time you smoked, you didn't seem too good . . ." Bertholdt responded slowly. You frowned at the comment. He wasn't wrong. The last time he had seen you smoke, which was the first time you had ever smoked, you had become a bit paranoid and out of it - reacting rather adversely to the weed. However, you and your special roommate had become quite frequent smokers. "Well, the last time you saw me smoke was the first time I had ever smoked in my life. It's been a month since then, and I've smoked more since then. Also, last time I was drinking and smoking - a lethal combination, you know." The irritation in your voice was quite obvious. The last thing you wanted right now was to be judged by someone. Bertholdt grew somewhat anxious, growing more nervous and anxious as he became increasingly more aware of your frustration. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to, uh -" Bertholdt scratched the side of his face uncomfortably. "Offend you . . ." Now that he wasn't hunched over you and his shoulders were pulled back, it was apparent just how much taller he was than you. "Well, I suppose if you promise not to drink . . . I can let you smoke" He offered you a rather meek smile as he tried to crack a joke. Once he could tell you had received the joke well, his shoulders relaxed a bit. Once more, he leaned against the fence - adjusting himself down to your height. "Here -" He held the blunt in front of you. Without second-guessing, you leaned forward - wrapping your lips around the end of the blunt tightly and taking a few puffs. Bertholdt grew silent - his cheeks flaring a bright red. "You know, I don't know why you do that?" You pulled back, coughing up a bit of smoke. "Do what?" "You don't grab your own blunt, like -" He brought the end of it back to his own lips, finishing off the end of it. He dropped it into the dirt, smudging it out with the toe of his shoe. "- you just smoke it straight from someone's hand. And by someone's hand, I mean -" He wanted to finish his comment with Eren's

hand - but the sharp look in your eye warned him not to. "It's just, you know - you act strong, and in many respects you are . . . but you know, for someone who claims that they don't rely on anyone - you sure rely on someone a lot -" "I didn't know you liked to get into other people's fucking business when you're high -" "Hey, hey, hey -" Bertholdt held his hands up in defense, as though he were trying to pump the breaks, "I'm not saying it's a bad thing. Relying on someone isn't bad. I rely on Reiner and Annie regularly . . ." He bent his neck backwards, his lips parting in the cold air as his adam's apple slid up and down his throat a bit nervously. ". . . we're not meant to be alone or anything. But, I should say . . . you might want to find better people to rely on, you know?" "We're not the same" You blurted out in the spur of the moment. There was an awkward pause of silence. Man, it seemed like tonight was full of awkward pauses. "I'm sorry - I didn't mean to come off like a bitch . . . like, you can depend on whoever you want just . . . don't go projecting your shit on me, okay? That's between you and your friends." You turned your head away from him, watching as strobe lights lit the night sky. "You can be dependent on whoever you want . . . I'm just not like that." It was a lie, of course. You depended on people more than anything. Eren, your next door neighbors Erwin and Levi, Armin, Mikasa . . . you just hated to admit it. "Alright" Bertholdt laughed out loud, "So you come over here and demand me to share my weed and you can't even pretend to go along with what I have to say? I see how it is" He jested, nudging you in your side lightly. Relaxing a bit, you let out your own laugh. "I'm a bit uptight, aren't I?" Bertholdt made a small gesture with his thumb and index finger. "Just a little bit" "It's okay, you can say a-lot-a-bit" You poked your tongue out from in between your lips, the familiar pressure of the high building up in the front of your head. A few moments of silence passed by as both you and Bertholdt watched strangers stumble by, tripping over their laces. "So are you . . . actually dating Eren? When we first met, you and Eren didn't seem to be exactly on . . . the same page . . . you know?" You let out a hefty sigh. He felt like he was walking on eggshells. "Well -" you began to answer his question honestly, but were interrupted by a few girls in the distance whispering. "What the hell is he wearing? Is he seriously wearing that sweater at a fucking party? Isn't that the guy who hangs out on campus and drinks monster like, every day?" Bertholdt pulled at the collar of his shirt, as though he were trying to relieve the choking feeling that was building in his throat. "And what about that girl next to him?" the other one chimed in, "Isn't that the girl that like, got so fucked at a party everyone had to leave and go home?" "Isn't she supposed to be Eren's girlfriend?" the first one scoffed, "What's she doing hanging out with some other guy what a -" "What a what?!" You let out a loud holler, practically ready to throw hands, "Come on! Finish the damn sentence -!" You were about to speak out more until you felt Bertholdt's hand grip gently at your upper arm, tugging you in the opposite direction. "Let's go sit in my car. It's quieter - which will probably make it a better place to talk about . . . you know, this whole debacle"

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Sitting in the passenger's seat, you couldn't help but squirm a little bit. "You didn't strike me as the kind of guy that drove a 2019 Kia Soul" You spoke, leaning your chair back as far as possible. "What did you expect? A 1999 Honda Civic?" "I mean . . ." You trailed off a bit, "Yeah . . . you know, it's a classic stoner car." "So you're stereotyping me?" He laughed, leaning over and opening the glover compartment. He pulled out the fake bottom, revealing a few more pre-rolled blunts underneath it. "Jesus - how much do you smoke?" You inquired, somewhat surprised. "A lot. And you would, too, if you lived the life I did." "Someone's moody." "I'm just being honest" He retorted, placing the pre-rolled blunt between his lips. For a second, the only sound that filled the air was the steady clicking of his lighter as he struggled to light the end of it. Upon finally lighting it, Bertholdt reached beside him - pulling at the seat's lever and sliding himself all the way back. As he puffed on the end of the blunt, smoke began to accumulate and fill the entire car. "You know, during moments like these, I wish I had a sunroof." "So everyone can smell the weed coming out of your car?" You asked sarcastically. He turned his head to face you, his eyebrows furrowing. When you squinted, you could see the red lining the whites of his eyes - indicating just how high he was climbing. "No, so I can see the stars." He answered bluntly. "I would have never guessed." He chuckled. "So . . . you aren't actually dating Eren?" Bertholdt asked, passing the blunt over to you. "No." You took the blunt from his hand, holding it between your index finger and thumb before bringing it to your lips. "In all honesty . . . I don't blame anyone for not asking you. To go around lying about dating someone . . . you'd have to be . . ." Bertholdt coughed as more smoke began to accumulate in the car, ". . . well . . ." "Insane?" You finished his sentence. "Yeah." More silence filled the air as the two of you passed the blunt between each other until he finally reached its bitter end. Bertholdt finished the end of the blunt, as you weren't a big fan of the way the last little bits of weed mixed with ash made your throat burn, before putting it out in the ashtray he kept in the car. "It wouldn't surprise me if he was a clinical psychopath" Bertholdt said. He paused for a second, staring up at the ceiling. The silence became deafening again as he furrowed his eyebrows in thought, his hands folded over his abdomen. "Are psychopaths the ones who don't have feelings? Or are those sociopaths?" Bertholdt appeared genuinely confused. "I can't remember." "Fuck if I know." You shrugged. "A sunroof would be pretty cool . . ." Your gaze lazily slid from looking outside of the passenger's window to staring directly at Bertholdt. "Either way, he's a complete mental case . . . hasn't really been the same since . . ." He squinted, ". . . since that thing in his life happened. But he wasn't always like this, you know - and he's not really a bad guy. Just . . . has a lot of baggage. He used to be really nice, just very angry and loud. Now he's just . . . very angry and quiet. Don't know what clicked in his brain." "Can we change the subject?" You asked, "This talk about Eren is really ruining my high." "Oh. Uh. Yeah. Sorry." His movements and statements were slow, primarily from the weed. Turning on his side, Bertholdt stared rather intently at you. "What are you looking at?" You asked him rather lazily. "You got -" Bertholdt reached his large hand out, gently pressing his index finger underneath your eye without a thought, "An eyelash." He also took the time to tuck a few stray hairs of yours behind your ear. You could feel your body temperature rise.

"Uh . . ." Bertholdt was beginning to panic a bit, suddenly aware of what exactly he had just done. "Sorry . . . I just . . ." He swallowed hard, suddenly jerking onto his back again and stared at the ceiling - his arms rigid at his sides. "I shouldn't have -" "When's the last time you had sex?" You asked bluntly. "E-Excuse me?" "That was really blunt. I'm sorry. It's just, you seem constantly anxious, which is ironic considering how much weed you smoke. Isn't weed supposed to relax you?" "Well, it does . . . most of the time. But

sometimes it can cause a bit of paranoia, you know . . . but for the most part, it kind of helps not think about some of the things that stress me out . . . but that's . . . that's not really important . . ." "I can fuck you, if you want. Like friends do." "L-Like friends do?!" Bertholdt practically choked. "Friends fuck? - I don't think -" "You can say no, if you want. I just thought I'd ask you because I thought it'd relieve you of some of the anxiety." A few months ago, you wouldn't have thought to ask a question this bold. However, in your string of hookups with Eren - you had learned firsthand that sex could be rough and even emotionless. But you imagined that with Bertholdt, it'd be different. For starters, the two of you actually got along - and he was nice to you. And if someone was nice to you, then you were nice back - right? And what was nicer than sex? You probably needed therapy. "Look honestly . . ." He was staring intently up at the ceiling now, squinting, "I'd love to . . . I mean I feel comfortable with you, I like talking to you, we get along . . . but . . ." He became a bit more nervous. How did someone even say that they were a virgin? It made him uncomfortable. "I haven't - you know - like I've done bits - but not -" Bertholdt let out a sign of defeat. "You probably think I'm a loser . . ." "No, I don't think -" "Oh, God!" Bertholdt propped himself up on his elbows, becoming increasingly more frantic as something in his brain seemed to click. "I don't want you to think that I brought you to my car just for sex! Please don't think of me like that - ! I'd never take advantage of someone -" "Hu?" You asked, raising a lethargic eyebrow, "Uh - no. I don't think that you're the type of guy to take advantage of anyone. I was the one who asked you" You were struggling to crawl over the console now, fumbling a bit. Bertholdt's hands came out to grab you by the elbows in order to give you better balance. Once you found your equilibrium, you pulled yourself over into his seat - straddling him. "You're just -" You dipped your head downwards, brushing your nose against his. "You're overthinking it. Don't overthink it." "Oh . . . okay . . ." He laid on his back, looking up at you. Anxiety dripped on his face and he couldn't help but reach upwards, resting his hand on the side of your face. "I just . . . I don't want this to be a high mistake, you know? Like I don't want this to be something where you have sex with me because you're upset. I don't want to be your mistake" "You -" Your dress was hitched up to your thigh now and when you shifted against his dick, he couldn't help but let out a frustrated groan. "- you're not a mistake" Your breath fanned against his face and he could feel his heartrate quickening in his chest. Tilting your head, you leaned forward - placing a very gentle kiss to his lips. - When your lips met his, Bertholdt felt as though a fire had been lit in his stomach. It took him a second to adjust, but soon he was lifting his head upwards - both hands on the side of your face as he returned the kiss with the same fervor. His hands slowly moved from the sides of your face, to your neck, and very hesitantly gripped at your ass. When his long, thin, fingers did grip at your ass, you couldn't help but grind down against his hardening dick in response. In all honesty, this wasn't how he planned on losing his virginity. In fact, he always somewhat hoped and assumed that the first time he had sex, it would be with Annie in a really nice hotel room after a few months of dating. But this? This was pretty fucking great, too. Your hands gripped at his face, pushing him back down in the chair as you slowly slipped your tongue between his lips, using it to push against his own tongue before biting the bottom of his lip and pulling it gently between your teeth before letting it ping back into place. The man looked obviously starstruck by the mere fact you were even touching

him. Your hips, which sat heavy on him, pushed downwards slowly and rocked. His breath hitched in his throat as you rocked against his dick, which was growing uncomfortably hard in his jeans. Instinctively, he rolled his hips against you - albeit a bit awkward and clunky. Is this really happening? he thought to himself. Man, Reiner was not going to believe this - and if he did, he was going to absolutely lose his shit. Your fingers trailed up underneath his shirt, trickling against his skin - causing him to shudder. Small gasps, sighs, and moans left his lips as you continued to grind against him. Dipping your head downwards, you stole another kiss - swallowing his moans in your own mouth. Soon, you broke the kiss - taking the time to drag your tongue down the right side of his neck, biting and sucking on the soft skin. When your mouth hit the crook of his neck, your lips latched themselves onto the skin - sucking and biting the same spot as you continued to grind down into him - the only thing separating you being the fabric of your very thin panties and his jeans. "Christ -" He breathed out. This man was going to go crazy. Soon, you became impatient and unzipped his pants, struggling a bit to push his jeans down. "Here -" He exclaimed excitedly, "Let me help -!" Bertholdt had lifted his hips a bit, shimmying his pants down his hips slightly but quickly became incredibly self-conscious when he realized that his dick was hard and pressing against his boxers. You palmed his dick, rubbing your hand gently in a back and forth motion against him. Bertholdt let out a moan that was so guttural, it startled him. "I bet you'd feel wonderful inside of me" You cooed. His face turned red and he turned his head away in embarassment. You captured his chin in your right hand, your left hand still palming him. "Look at me." You breathed out, "I want to see every expression you make." Bertholdt's eyebrows furrowed together with embarrassment as his lips parted involuntarily, his chest rising and falling at an accelerated rate. You couldn't help but mimic the mouth movements he was making, your mouth forming into various shapes as his did. "Keep eye contact with me." You breathed out. You were pushing down his boxers down, now, bringing them down to his upper thighs. Your eyes slid down to look at him. His dick was very clearly larger than average. Despite being long, it was fairly average in girth - cautioning on the skinnier side. It was only half-erect, pre-cum dripping from the tip, which seemed to fluster him even more. "I'm sor-" "Let me help" You interjected. Gently, you wrapped your hand around his cock - your hand gliding from the its base to the top. When your thumb gently rolled against the tip of his dick, his eyes practically rolled into the back of his head. He was wriggling and shimmying beneath you as you continued to stroke at his cock. "Good boy" Your purred. He wasn't sure what it was about good boy but something about it drove him wild. His fingers curled against the palms of his hands before stretching outwards. As you used your free hand to move some hair from his forehead, Bertholdt nervously reached his hand up, letting it hover over your breast. "Can I -" "You can touch me." Hesitantly, Bertholdt pushed the strap of your dress down underneath your breasts and let gripped at the flesh, the entirety of his hand covering your entire breast. Nervously, his index finger and thumb pinched and pulled at your nipple. You couldn't help but moan yourself. "you . . ." Bertholdt found himself growing more confident, ". . . like that?" "Christ -" You breathed out, "I want to ruin you -" His dick grew fully erect in your hand at your statement.

"I'm gonna -" With your free hand, you began to work your underwear off your body. Eager to help rid you of your panties, Bertholdt helped guide the fabric off of you as well. You guided the tip of his cock to your entrance, "Are you ready - don't want to back out or anything?" "Back out?!" Bertholdt exclaimed, almost desperate, "God, no - please don't stop - " That was confirmation enough for you. When you lowered yourself onto him, Bertholdt leaned his head back. The hand stuff? That was pretty great. But this? Being inside of her felt so good he was pretty sure he could base an entire religion around how fantastic your slick pussy felt around his hard dick. As you slid up and down against him, Bertholdt let out small whimpers and whines - his hands gripping at your hips almost desperately. "You're so pretty -" He whimpered out, "You feel so good - keep going . . . please." Bertholdt's whimpers only encouraged you to bounce up and down faster, the sounds of how slick and wet both of you were filling the car alongside his whimpers, moans, and pleas for you to keep going. His hips rolled upwards to meet your in a way that was clunky and awkward, but cute nonetheless. Your fingers curled around the side of his neck, gripping his flesh gently. Surprisingly, he found that he enjoyed the way your small hands curled around his neck. In many ways, it made him feel like a toy beneath you meant to be used for your pleasure only - and admittedly, he liked that. When you squeezed his neck gently, he couldn't help but sputter a bit. Soon, you found your fingers slipping into his mouth - his sliding and wrapping around the appendages, sucking on them without a second thought.

He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing everything in. The heavy high that kept him rooted on his back made it more excellent. As he continued to climb his high, his brain clouded by both pleasure and the extreme amounts of dopamine from his high, Bertholdt ran his hands over your body, pushing your dress further up your body. His heavy hand gripped at every bit of skin he could and you groaned as his hand ran up your abdomen.

"Sex while high feels like watching TV in 4K" You breathed out. He couldn't help but agree with and laugh at your comment. However, his laugh was swallowed by more moans as you began to pick up your pace, becoming more and more needy as you slid up and down his cock. "Smoking certainly does make most things b-better -" His statement was cut short as his body jutted dramatically "I'm -" He could feel a tingling sensation build up in his body, his legs beginning to twitch just a bit, "Close - are you -" Despite the immense amount of pleasure that was pooling in his body and his absolute inability to spit out a full, cohesive, sentences due to three of your fingers pressed into his mouth - he still found himself heavily concerned with your own pleasure. "Yeah -" Your choked out, feeling pleasure pool in your abdomen as the tip of his dick thrust into that perfect gummy spot inside of you. You dropped your head back, breathing heavy and accelerated as his thrusts upwards became sloppier and more desperate. As the smoke began to clear in the car, he finally reached his climax - his body tense as he came into you - spilling onto your thighs and the driver's seat of his car, which was now probably ruined. Shortly after, you reached your own orgasm - your wetness dribbling down his cock and dripping onto both your thighs and his own. There was a moment of awkward silence as you pulled yourself off of him and the two of you spend the next couple of minutes desperately trying to clean yourselves up. "That was -" You began. "Amazing." Bertholdt interrupted. "Yeah." You couldn't help but crack a smile. Bertholdt couldn't help but think to himself -

I can't believe I just lost my virginity in my Kia Soul.

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jeanbeaux · 4 years ago

Text

CANDIDS

bertholdt hoover x f!reader

w/c: 1.5k

genre/warnings: modern!au, tooth rotting fluff, author apologizes for any cavities given, Bertholdt is introduced like a haikyuu character post time skip

a/n: This is a part of @peachy-momos’ 300 follower polaroid collab! I had a lot of fun with it and hope you enjoy, Berty boi is def one of my underrated faves of the AOT universe. Much love to my beta-reader @ivsahi who has now realized shes a bertholdt kinnie.

If you were to ask Bertholdt Hoover, 25, wildlife photographer for National Geographic, what his favorite camera he had used over the years was, the answer would surprise you.

It’s not his father’s old Minolta Maxxum 7000, which he found at age six. He wasn’t even after the camera, just fascinated by the worn leather strap that was peaking out of the shelf in the living room. And so he reached up on his tip-toes and yanked down, sending the rest of the books clattering as the 35 MM SLR fell into his grubby little hands. The crash gave his mother a fright, but her scolding died on her tongue as she saw her son’s steel green eyes light up with fascination as he played with the dials.

Nor is it the Canon EOS 7D he got on his 10th birthday. He carried that with him everywhere, taking pictures of him and Reiner on their adventures in the patch of woods beyond his house or the various dogs he saw in his neighborhood. He’s pretty sure his fingerprints have worn into the rubber grip on the side.

Those cameras started it all for him, and they sit in retirement beside all the shiny DSLRs and focus attachments on the dark cherry floating shelves in his office. With a wall of his room dedicated to computerized gadgets that have let him capture migratory birds in flight and cheetahs mid stride, it’s almost outlandish that Bertholdt Hoover’s favorite camera looked like a child’s toy — for its nothing other than Fujifilm Instax Mini 9.

He still remembers the day you ran into him, quite literally, at the college bookstore, sending his film canisters flying everywhere and your coffee straight on to his weathered flannel. You were babbling apologies as he turned redder, going on about how you must be so blind to not see the literal tower of the human being in your way, hoping to salvage your fumble by treating him to a drink at your favorite cafe on campus.

After an outfit change, he found himself in a booth telling you all about how he’s struggling with color negative film development. You didn’t listen like Reiner does, who always interrupted to joke about how Bertholdt should help him stage his nudes, or even like Annie, who he was pretty sure lets him go on because it’s the perfect form of white noise to her.

Instead, you sat with your head in one hand, nodding enthusiastically and probing him further. You were genuinely interested, someone who made his passion feel appreciated. And that’s what caused that one coffee date to turn into another, and then three months later, you’re in his dorm room presenting him a cream colored polaroid camera with a Cyndaquill charm attached.

“It’s so you can understand the only camera I own,” you said, pulling your own polaroid out of your bag with a smile.

It looked minuscule in his giant hands, the device rotating in his palms as he tried to figure out the settings. “What makes this one so different from the ones I have?” he asked.

“Because you can’t edit the pictures, silly. You’re always fixing the lighting and colors even on your film prints, this just captures everything in the moment. And you can’t reprint them, so each picture is a limited edition Bertholdt Hoover original. See, look!”

Bertholdt’s head shot up after he heard the flash that followed the end of the sentence. He may love being behind the camera, but he still needs some time to be comfortable being in front of it. He was tensing in anticipation as you both waited for the picture to develop, the white square fading to reveal the image of Bertholdt, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out the camera. He looked at ease, in his element.

It was the first candid of himself he ever liked.

“Aw, look at you,” you cooed as you slid the polaroid into your phone case. “Now I think that’s a moment of you worth saving, don’t you agree?”

A year later, he found himself bringing the Polaroid along with him on your dates. You had decided to celebrate your anniversary on Paradis Beach, laying out a red and white checkered cloth on the sand and lounging the day away. The snacks that were spread out on the charcuterie board dwindled as the sun began to dip into the waves; you and Bertholdt both focused on painting pictures of each other.

“And done!” you announced, turning your canvas around for your boyfriend to see. You had splotted it in blue and green, the black line art you drew of his face standing in a striking contrast. The canvas now hangs in the living room of your shared apartment, and you’d later argue that it was your Picasso inspired interpretation of your boyfriend to anyone who notices it at your dinner parties; but in reality, it looked like elongated Wirt from Over the Garden Wall.

“Why did you make me look like Jean?”

“It looks nothing like Jean, the nose is totally different! It’s not my fault you have the same head.”

“Please don’t tell him or show him that, he’ll rope me into his arguments with Eren,” he teased.

“Well, let’s see how well you did then, DaVinci.” You peered over his shoulder in search of his work. The watercolor rendition captured you perfectly — from to the flecks in your irises to the soft upturn of your lips when you smiled.

It looked like it could be one of his pictures.

“I shouldn’t have agreed to do this with an art major,” you sigh. “Of course your painting would turn out more legitimate than mine.”

“Hey! I never said I didn't like it. And, I’m a Digital and Film Photography major, you know.”

“Tomato, tomah-to,” you stuck out your tongue.

Bertholdt broke out into a laugh as he looked at you, your brows furrowed in mock anger as you pouted back at him. As he saw you with your teal sundress fluttering in the wind, the flyaways of your hair turning golden under the setting sun, he realized that this vision of you was something he wanted to immortalize. And with a soft “look over here, dove” to beckon you gaze towards him, Bertholdt clicks on the shutter, a smile of his own growing behind the camera to match the one you’re beaming at him. He pulls out the film and waits for the picture to appear, and to his chagrin, the camera focused on the sun behind you, the film yielding your silhouette against the orange sky.

He frowned and turned the camera back around, searching for the light filtering settings.

“What are you looking for?” You moved to lay down next to him, your head falling back on his chest.

“The metering adjustment, it keeps focusing on the sun.”

“I don’t think a camera that was meant to be understood by 16 year olds would have anything that fancy,” you snorted, reaching out for the Polaroid to turn the dial to the image of the sun on the rim of the lens. “The solution is more simple than you think, o wise photography major. So smile! Let’s take a selfie.”

Now, Bertholdt finds himself chuckling as he pulls that selfie out of the box containing all the polaroids you had gathered in the three years you had been together. It had turned out horribly, catching only the top half of your face and his chin. It had taken you five tries to get both your heads into the frame, but he decides to hang up all of the pictures on the string in front of him instead of the sole perfect one.

He takes a step back to admire his handy work, the gazebo of the botanical garden he took you to on your first real date now fully surrounded with alternating garlands of your favorite flowers and photo donned fairy lights that were slowly coming to life with the growing twilight.

It was incredible how much that little camera had captured — the Camp Half-Blood halloween costumes, the weathervane like sleeping positions you found him with your cat, the pictures in front in every state sign you ever travelled to and the ones he caught of you cooking in the kitchen.

Your entire relationship filled the little white rectangles that hung from the wooden rafters, and the next step was in the little velvet box in his back pocket.

“So, Bertholdt,” Reiner calls out, “Which one of your fancy cameras am I using to catch the big moment in?”

Bertholdt bends down to rummage for the Polaroid in his camera bag, the cream shell now marred with a few scratches and the Pokemon charm now fading in color. He’s got Annie using the Nikon and Porco on his iPhone for a video, but he knows he can trust Reiner with the most important camera of all.

After all, this is a moment he wants to make sure you both have forever — unedited & irreplaceable.

thank you for reading!!

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