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wordyneonlights · 2 months

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This writing every day thing might not be as hard as I thought !!

^^ Famous last words up there but hello all the same. Decided to post something else I wrote a couple years ago (I say a couple it was like last year probably) with a couple of edits.

Anyway, it's a draft of a first chapter so let me know what you think!

As always constructive criticism is always welcome, I do genuinely want to get better. Thanks for being here and happy reading!

DISCLAIMER & TRIGGER WARNINGS

Strong Language used

Mention of drugs and alcohol

Mention of SA (and creepy drunk guy behaviour)

Brief mention of death

(If I've missed anything please let me know!)

Having money is a very nice thing.

Being financially stable in general is a nice thing, it’s always a comfort to know that you don’t have to worry about food and bills and all that.

Yes, having money really is a nice thing. Which is why running out of it is detrimental. Unfortunately this is the situation I have found myself in, one with no money.

Generally, I like to think pretty positively, I mean I wouldn’t consider my view on life ‘glass half full’ but I prefer to stay off the negative side to maintain sanity. If I started thinking about all the things that could go wrong, I wouldn’t even get out of bed.

I closed my eyes and leaned back onto the bench I was sitting on. It wasn’t like I didn’t have cash, I had enough saved up to last at least a month until my grandmothers benefits came in but still… it was pretty worrisome that there was a grand total of zero US dollars inside my bank account.

“Alright Erica,” I thought to myself, “In times of great brokeness what do you do?”

I sighed and answered my own question,

I sell drugs.

It’s not as though I want to do it. I only use it as a last resort and it’s never anything stronger than weed but (apparently) it’s enough to give me ten years so I tend to stay away from it but hey, drastic times I suppose. I get up and walk, wondering if Michael would have anything to sell and if Adil and Alex were doing anything interesting right now.

Whoah

Where did that come from? Those two hadn’t crossed my mind in almost a year and here I am wondering what they’re up to

“Like you have any right to wonder,” my inner voice says and I kindly tell it to shut the fuck up as I kick a stray can down the street.

Although, on further thought, the voice had a point. I didn’t really have a right to be wondering about their wellbeing when I ditched them like I did. I shake my head and keep walking, I have too many problems right now and reanimating dormant ones would just stress me out even more. I reach the gate of Michael’s house and knock on it… loudly. John opens the little side door and I step through it, he gives me a small smile as I mock salute him and I walk to the pool and there he is. Michael Holland, standing by the edge of the pool smoking and looking at nothing in particular like some sort of fucking protagonist or a really cool album cover. Sometimes it's hard to classify him.

I try to fight the urge to push him in as I walk up and stand next to him, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and throwing it on the floor.

“Do you wanna die at thirty?” I ask before crushing it under my heel

“Twenty actually,” he replies before bringing out another cigarette and a lighter. I give him a look that I hope he interprets as annoyance before sighing and asking my next question.

“You got anything for me to sell?”

I let the question hang in the air as he turns to face me, his eyes boring into mine as he tilted his head slightly and exhaled a puff of smoke.

“I thought that was a ‘last resort’?”

“Well, as you can see, I’m desperate,” I answered wrinkling my nose at the smell of smoke

“You don’t seem desperate,” he said giving me a once over.

“Very fucking funny,” I said, “Look if you don’t want to give me anything that’s fine considering well…” I trailed off leaving her name in the air, “But I wouldn't ask if it wasn't serious and if you can't give it to me I'll go to someone who can,” I turn around and try not feel bad about the fact that I'm semi forcing him to do something he doesn't want to do but, desperation does multiple things to people, none of them especially moral. I started a mental timer in my head,

5, 4, 3, 2, -

“Dicer's got some he's supposed to be giving to Matt... but I'll let him know you're taking it instead,”

Right on time

“Thank you,” I reply before turning, “And last month…”

“Save it,” he interuppted sharply before sighing and tapping the end of his cigaratte, “I mean I appreciate you,” he said looking at me, “But not yet,”

“It wasn't your fault,” I try to say through my eyes, "She wouldn't have blamed you,"

He turns away from me and I take that as my dismissal.

“See you around Josh,” I say to a nod in response. Exiting the gate and beginning the walk back to my apartment complex I let my thoughts drift.

I think about the stash I’m going to pick up, I think about Dicer who I haven’t seen since last month, I think about Angie at home, she’s probably watching some trashy reality TV and finally, I think about Alex. I think about that day and everything that I did afterwards. Basically, another chapter in my life that sums up how I ruin everything.

Shit

I looked up at the sun and squinted, it wasn’t so late if it was hurting my eyes which meant that I still had time to get home before it got dark and her house wasn’t so far from here…

I turn left and make my way to her house before immediately deciding against it and turning the fuck back.

What the hell are you thinking?

I ask myself and I answer my own question walking fast before I thump hard against someone, crashing backwards and muttering apologies.

“Shit I’m sorry-” I start before looking up and stopping, “Ty?” I say

He looks at me, brown eyes narrowing, “Erica?”

“Hey,” I say, totally cool and nonchalant as he keeps on looking at me.

“Does Alex know you’re arou-”

“No,” I say, cutting him off, “No she doesn’t and you're not going to tell her anything. In fact, just pretend you never saw me ok?”

I don't wait for a response walking off hurriedly, heart thumping in my chest.

Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking idiot, what did you think was going to happen?

I walked down the street, taking the long way to Dicers neighborhood so that I could blow off whatever possessed me to almost make such a stupid decision.

I decided to focus on Dicer instead, thinking about him always made me a tiny bit angry which was what I needed right now… a stronger emotion to drown out the feeling of guilt.

Dicer’s neighbourhood was worse than mine and that’s saying something. Sure I hear gunshots once in a while, and I’m not saying that we don’t have our fair share of drug pushers but my neighbourhood wasn’t as dirty as Dicers.

He lived where all the bosses lived, he played poker with them, drank with them, ran national money laundering schemes with them… not my favourite place to be

I walked down the street passing crack houses until I found the place I was looking for; actually I heard it first but that was besides the point. I entered the house wrinkling my nose at the smell before pushing my way through to the kitchen. If I knew him well enough he'd be there trying to trick a pretty girl into thinking he wasn't interested in the party so he could get in her pants.

And lo and behold there he was leaning on the counter scrolling through something on his phone.

I walked up to him and tapped his shoulder, causing him to turn around and smile at my presence. I didn’t smile back.

“I'm picking up Matt's rounds,” I told him, “Michael said you've got it and if you could hurry the fuck up that would be nice,”

“C’mon don’t be in such a hurry princess,” he said smiling softly, “If you want to leave so bad let me take you out,” he moved so his arms were parallel my waist as he leaned on the countertop, “You could show me all the tricks Will taught you afterwards yeah?”

My mouth went dry, and I could tell he wanted me to yell, to shove him off, to cause a scene. I wanted to, I really fucking wanted to, but instead I leaned in and whispered

“Unless you want a matching hole in your other foot, you’d better hurry up and get me my fucking drugs.”

I ended the sentence with a smile as his eyes turned cold and a muscle in his jaw ticked, if there was one thing Dicer didn't like to be reminded of, it was the fact that I'd beaten him where it really mattered and he had the scars to prove it.

He stood up straight, looking at me with almost pure hatred.

“Try that shit again with no Michael and we'll see what happens,”

“Just go do what you're good for and fetch my shit,”

I saw his fist clench out of the corner of my eye and he leaned to grab his phone before walking off.

Fuck

I stood up blinking rapidly, he almost had me when he mentioned Will but I wasn't the same person I was a month ago, he wasn't going to get a reaction that easily. I took a deep breath steeling myself before a sharp squeeze of my ass made me turn sharply around coming face to face with some creep

“Didn’t think he’d ever stop talking,” he said to me, words slurring together as he moved closer. He squinted while looking at me before opening his mouth again

“You’re skinnier up close, lucky you’re hot or I definitely wouldn’t fuck you.”

My hand was moving towards a beer bottle ready to break it and scare him away before his eyes widened at something behind me and he quickly stumbled away.

“Took you fucking long enough,” I muttered, turning around only to come face to face with Ty.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Why is he here? Does he usually come to these things? Have I just never noticed? But I'd know if he did, I'm sure I'd know if he did! Does he know Michael? Does he know Dicer? My chest hollowed suddenly as my thoughts raced. Does he know about Will? Does he know about ... about her?

“I thought you were Dicer,” I managed to choke out.

And speak of the devil, there he was holding a handbag and eyeing Ty inquisitively before smiling. My stomach rolled, nothing good ever came of that smile.

“You found someone new to teach you tricks huh?” he asked and I bit my tongue so hard I tasted blood.

“Erica-” Ty started but I grabbed the bag and his wrist, pulling him away from Dicer, from this house, from this place. If only I could somehow pull him away from me.

I drag him ,or... he lets me drag him because he could stop us both if he wanted to, to the top of the street before slowing to get a good look at him. Ty was not a good liar, if someone had told him to follow me or something it would be written all over his face. I stop and he does with me.

“No one told you to follow me,” I start, “So why are you here?”

He frowns slightly, “Y'don't think I could follow you out of my own free will?” His eyes drifted to my hands and I realised that they were shaking. Fucking Dicer

“Are you-”

“It’s just weed,” I interrupted

“What?”

“I mean, inside the bag it’s just weed... I don't deal anything stronger than that,”

He nodded, the frown still evident on his face, “What was that guy talking about... with the tricks?”

I feel my chest getting tight and sink down on the ground leaning on a lamp post. Ty joins me, feet stretching out towards the curb.

“It's a long,” I breathe sharply, “Long story,”

“Safe to say I've missed a lot huh?” he jokes

“Not your fault,” I say

There's a long silence between us and I feel the knots in my chest start to loosen before my breathing even out properly.

“So,” he starts, “You wanna go to Dano's?”

#writblr #writers on tumblr #writing #oc's #first chapter #chapter 1 #angst #hope you enjoy <3

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marvelslut16 · 2 years

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Grief

Pairing: Billy x reader (technically) but it's mainly Max x platonic!Reader

Synopsis: The reader helps Max through her confusing grief after Billy's death by reveling bits and pieces of her own twisted relationship with him.

Word count: 1.7k+

Warnings: Swearing probably. A lot of talk bout death. Wishing death upon someone. Toxic abusive relationship. Angst. Some fluff. But I mean mainly angst. Grief.

A/N: I've had this idea since the end of the third season, but since the fourth season dealt a lot with Max's grief it helped me flesh out this one shot. I'm embarrassed to admit that I cried while writing this. Also I had this fic finished for like two months but didn't know what to name it so it's just been sitting in my drafts, I decided to give it a shitty name before second guessed the entire thing and never posted it.

“So whatcha’ listenin’ to?” you ask the redhead as you plop down on the edge of the picnic table.

You aren't surprised when she doesn’t respond, instead turning her body away from where you're sitting. You sigh, shifting to lay across the length of the tabletop, you may as well try and get some sun while you sit with Max. The redhead continues to ignore you until you hear her walkman click, signaling that it’s time to flip the cassette.

“Why are you here?” she finally asks.

“Because your friends are worried about you, I’m worried about you,” you sit back up, leaning your forearms on your legs, feet resting atop the bench next to Max. “It’s been over two months Max, and you aren’t talking to anyone.”

“Well I still don’t want to talk,” she states matter of factly, rewinding her cassette. You can hear two songs play through her headphones before she sighs and looks back at you. “What will it take for you to leave me alone?”

“Tell me what you’re listening to,” you hope that she’ll be more likely to talk if you don’t start by asking her how she is.

“Kate Bush, running up that hill is my favorite song,” you hum looking down at your hands.

“Ya know, my friend has that same cassette. She played that song for me the other day, it immediately made me think of him.”

“How could you move on? How are you so okay?” her voice equal parts desperation and anger, you can’t bring yourself to look at her when you respond, afraid she’ll be able to see how much you’re hurting.

“I’m not okay, and I haven’t moved on. My friend thought I was crazy because I immediately burst into tears at the song. I haven’t been back to the pool since he died. I buy his cigarettes and light them, I never smoke them, I just want to smell them-smell him. I wear his earring everyday, and I go to bed every night clutching his stupid jean jacket. I’m not okay, and that’s normal, but I can’t spend every moment wallowing because it won’t change anything,” you don’t even realize your crying, not until tears are falling out your forearms.

“I hated him,” Max admits, reaching over to hold your hand.

“I know,” you laugh wetly, you’d grown close to the girl over the year you had dated Billy, and she wasn’t good at hiding how she really felt. “He treated you like shit, it makes sense.”

“You don’t get it! He loved you while he made my life a living hell, it’s different. There were times when I wanted him to die, and I just feel so guilty.”

“Max, there’s nothing wrong with feeling like that, he was horrible to you and you just wanted him to leave you alone.”

“I wanted him dead, and now he is! What kind of person does that make me?” she pulls her hand away from yours, throwing it in the air in exaggeration.

“New Year's Eve. Some Senior was having a big party to ring in the new year. I didn’t want to go, I had begged Billy to just stay home, we could pop Jiffy pop and ring in the new year with you since your mom and Neil were going out. But he forced me to go, so I got all dressed up for him and he ignored me almost the entire time we were there. Tommy H. and Carol stole him away the moment we walked into the house, none of them even tried to involve me in their conversation.

I ended up spending three hours leaning up against the wall in the living room before some guy from my history class came over to talk to me. I spent the next few hours talking to the guy since we were both alone, and some gorgeous leggy brunette was flirting with Billy. And he was flirting right back. Right before midnight Billy finally noticed I wasn't hanging all over him and waiting for him to give me attention anymore. He saw that I was talking to a guy and would have beat him to a pulp for it had I not stood in between them.

Instead of starting the new year off with a kiss, we started it with a huge fight. He calmly pulled me out of the house, but as soon as we were in his car and driving away he was screaming at me. He was berating me for flirting with some other guy, even though I wasn’t the one flirting at that party, he was. He just kept going on and on about how I embarrassed him by talking to the guy and thow I defended him, when all I was trying to do was keep Billy from a useless fight that could land him in jail.

I remember, vividly, wishing the alcohol would get to him and he would swerve off the road and into a tree. I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want him to die, I just wanted him to shut up. I thought that if he hit a tree he would just stop yelling at me for a little bit, and hopefully forget about how mad he was.

If you think you're a bad person for having normal thoughts, then I must be the world's worst person.”

“That actually happened?” Max’s expression is unreadable.

“I wish it hadn’t” you reach up to and anxiously run your fingers over Billy’s spiked earring that’s dangling from your ear. “To this day I feel guilty for thinking that, because I never thought he’d actually die, not this young. I figured I’d never feel this much guilt for thinking those things because we’d be broken up long before he’d die. But it’s normal for both of us to feel guilty about our thoughts we had in horrible moments with him, and it’s okay that we both feel those things. So long as we never act on them.”

“Thank you,” Max squeezes your hand, and you can tell by the look in her eyes that what you had said actually helped her.

“I should be the one thanking you, I just got a lot off my chest,” she laughs lightly, starting to look guilty again.

“You really don’t think I’m horrible?”

“If anyone was horrible, it was Billy. He treated you like shit most of the time, he liked to beat people up, he almost cheated on me multiple times, and he was a little racist,” you grab her hands and wait until she looks you in the eye. “It really is okay for you to have had those thoughts, and it makes sense that you’re conflicted and you feel guilty now. But you are honestly the furthest thing from a horrible person, Max.”

“Thank you,” tears start to prick at the corner of her eyes as she pulls you in for a hug, hiding her face in your neck.

“And for what it’s worth, he cared about you more than he’d ever like to admit. Yeah he despised you at first because he blamed you for the move and for how Neil treated you so much better than he treated him. But Billy grew to care for you, and he wanted to protect you. First night of summer break you were late coming home, you lost track of time with Lucas, Billy was so pissed when you got back at the house, but it was because he was a nervous wreck when you were late, he was worried something had happened to you. That obviously wasn’t the right way to express his feelings, but he was never good at that.”

“He loved you,” Max responds, voice breaking from her tears.

“I’m not sure he could love, I don’t think he’d ever let his walls down enough for that.” you pull away, giving Max a watery smile. “But he did probably hate me less than he hated most people.”

“Stay right here,” Max frowns before running off to her trailer. Standing awkwardly in the middle of the trailer park you look around, Aerosmith is coming from the Munson’s trailer, but the rest are silent. Everyone else is either at work or, more than likely, passed out drunk somewhere in their respective trailers.

Max comes running out of her trailer a few minutes later with a little white box clutched in her hands. When she gets back to where you’re standing she thrusts said box into your hands.

“What’s this?” you look at her in confusion, fingers playing with a torn corner of the box.

“I found it in Billy’s room before we moved. It was under a stack of Playboys, he probably knew you wouldn’t look under there,” you let out a little laugh, because Max was right, that probably was Billy’s thought process.

You gasp when your eyes land on what's inside the box, gold wiring twisting to spell out Billy attached to a matching gold chain. You had told him once, aftering seeing some freshman with her boyfriend's name on a necklace, how badly you wanted one, even if it was disgustingly cheesy and over the top. “I can’t believe he remembered,” you murmur. More to yourself than to Max.

Taking out the cardboard piece the necklace is resting on you notice a polaroid below it. Billy’s boxers are sitting low on his hips, barely even on him, his happy trail is gone and in its place is a fresh tattoo of your first and middle names running across his pelvic bone. The polaroid is dated 6/28/85. You think back to the week before he died, when he refused to swim, didn’t try to get in your pants once, and told you he had something to show you, something he never got around to doing.

It hits you like a freight train, Billy loved you, in his own twisted way. He would never say those words to you, but he got your name permanently inked on his skin to let you know that he felt the same. Your knees buckle as the weight of the realization comes crashing down on you, you're thankful that you're still standing so close to the picnic table that you slam onto the seat and not the ground. It’s Max’s turn to comfort you as you let out a sob, a new wave of grief washing over you as you realize just how much you meant to him and what you truly lost.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #billy x reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargove imagine #max x platonic!reader #max mayfield x platonic!reader

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kaghoeyama · 3 years

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three of cups.

featuring: eren jaeger, armin arlert, afab reader.

word count: 5.5k

summary: you, eren and armin have been best friends for ages. there’s always been an underlying tension between the three of you, until that tension finally snaps.

content warning: smut, college au, post-timeskip characters, alcohol consumption (characters are tipsy but not inebriated), threesome, mlm, mutual pining, voyeurism, thigh riding, fingering (f receiving), slight edging, use of good boy/good girl, masturbation, cumplay

a/n: uhh so i was horny and this happened. pls be kind this is like my first fanfic ever (also english is not my first language so if you spot any mistakes feel free to let me know).

update: so apparently tumblr took out a whole ass paragraph after the “keep reading” and then repeated two different paragraphs twice?? i’ve seen people trying to fix this by adding asterisks so i’m doing the same. sorry about that lol.

18+ CONTENT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

So loud, you think.

You can almost feel the room vibrate with beat of the music, your steps naturally adapting to the rhythm as you make your way through a crowd of college students in various states of dishevelment. A smile comes to your lips. The whole place smells of alcohol and sweat and the floor is sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to be annoyed at the chaos; the year had been brutal for a lot of you and with finals finally behind you, no one was gonna miss the chance to loosen up and just have fun, yourself included. Which was exactly what brought you to make this little trip across the room, eyes fixed on your objective.

He’s leaning against the wall, his golden hair making it easier for you to spot him in the crowded room. His eyes are trained on his phone as he mindless scrolls down with his thumb, so you’re not too surprised when he doesn’t notice you straight away, even when you’re standing right in front of him.

You take a moment to take in his delicate features, his skin turned to porcelain by the bright light coming from his phone; the alcohol makes you bold enough to trail a hand up his arm and rest on his cheek, successfully shifting his attention to you. His face relaxes in a smile when he sees you, but his eyebrows are still raised in surprise at your sudden closeness; he opens his mouth to greet you but you’re quicker, “Armin, would you please let me kiss you?”, your gaze keeping him pinned against the wall.

“I- what?”

You relish in the way his breath catches in his throat, and you certainly don’t miss the flush that comes to his face or the way his eyes drop to your lips.

“It’s for a dare… please?” your answer comes so innocent to his ears and he tries not to think at how pretty your plea sounded, even prettier than he’d fantasized so many times now.

“I- I mean, yeah, sure” he stammers; you chuckle when close the distance between you, his pretty blue eyes still confused as you press your lips against his.

The kiss comes out of the blue for him, yet you don’t miss the way his hands instinctively grip your waist as he pulls you closer to him. You hum into the kiss, your body suddenly so warm as he moves his lips against yours; he’s so pliant, all you had to do was ask and now he’s all over you, his grip keeping you flush against his body. Your fingers slip between his golden locks and when you lightly tug at them his hold grows tighter, his lips parting with a low moan. You swear you hear him whimper as you slip your tongue past his lips, taking control of the kiss as you explore his mouth, warm and wet and oh his hands are gripping your ass now, and you moan into the kiss as you feel his erection poking at your hip.

“The dare said ‘kiss’ but if you two wanna get a room…” Sasha’s loud voice somehow reaches you from across the room and you pull back from the kiss, a string of spit connecting still connecting your mouths. He’s panting, mouth still parted, and you can’t help but stare at his pink lips, slightly puffed and still shiny from the kiss.

Without thinking you brush a thumb against his lower lip, “so pretty” you murmur.

Armin swallows around nothing, and when your eyes meet his pupils are all blown out, pleading, almost begging you to close the distance once again. Fuck he looks so flustered, heat pooling between your legs as you wonder how he’d look if you took his cock in your mouth, if you could make him so lost in pleasure that his smart little brain couldn’t form any coherent thoughts.

You feel his arm around your shoulders before you see him, his usual scent of soap and lemon shampoo now mixed with a hint of smoke. You rest your head against his shoulder, your body craving physical contact after the kiss you’d shared with the blond. “Hi ’ren” you murmur against his shirt, dazed eyes looking up at him and then shifting to Armin. Your kiss was enough to make his brain fuzzy but now, with Eren’s arm wrapped around him and his body so close, he felt completely overwhelmed.

Eren pressed a kiss over your hair and pulled you and Armin even closer. “You shouldn’t keep all the fun to yourselves, don’t you know that sharing is caring?” he whispered, loud enough for both of you to hear through the music.

You can’t believe that cheesy line sent a shiver through your body. You figure it’s because of Eren.

“Maybe we should make use of that tequila bottle in our dorm room, what do you say Armin?” he adds, the blond choking out a soft affirmation. You doubt your sober self would have done that, but you were tipsy enough not to care when you took both their hands, interlacing your fingers with their own, a teasing smile gracing your lips. “Then what are we waiting for?”

You feel strangely calm as you walk down the hallway. It’s definitely quieter than the party, and your attention is quickly drawn from one dorm room to another, where you catch glimpses of people smoking and drinking to the sound of at least ten different playlists.

Again, you smile. For the third year now you’re witnessing how your otherwise rigorous and law abiding campus turns into a huge frat party in the weekend after finals. You don’t know if it’s the warm weather or the fact most common spaces are surprisingly clean by monday that makes everyone look the other way, either way you’re thankful. You close your eyes for a moment as you walk, slightly overwhelmed by the music and the loud chatter and the drink you had at the party, your brain lost in a pleasant buzz.

A light squeeze to your hand brings you back to earth. Your head turns to your left, eyes slowly opening to meet a pair of blue ones.

“Are you okay?” Armin asks softly, the tiniest hint of concern slipping past his lips. You wait a beat before addressing his question, choosing to look at him instead. You note that his cheeks are almost as pink as his lips, and that his blue t-shirt makes his eyes sparkle; you ignore how your stomach flips when you realize he’d been holding your hand since you’d left the party.

“I’m great,” you say as you shift closer to him “I’m in a good mood actually.”

You catch Eren’s eyes leaving you as he turns his head forward and keeps walking in front of you. You let your gaze travel from his head – you loved that half bun he kept his hair in more than you should – to his broad shoulders, entranced by the way his black t-shirt stretches over his muscular back.

You must have missed the part where he stopped in front of the dorm room, because you end up bumping against that back.

“You’re completely out of it” Eren teases with a grin.

“No, I’m not” you retort, “as I said, I’m in a good mood.”

The look he gives you is playful. “You call it good mood, I call it being drunk.”

“I had literally just one drink, there’s no way anyone could get drunk from that.”

“Depends on how strong the drink is.”

“Will you shut up?”

You’re still bickering as you enter the room, Armin rolling his eyes at the two of you with a fond smile. Once Eren shuts the door though, you all fall quiet.

The only light came from the blue led Armin had put on his side of the room, casting a glow over your faces that was almost ethereal. There’s a weird tension, a nervous feeling gripping your stomach and making you tingle with anticipation. You’d been alone with them in that very room more times than you could count, cramming for tests, watching a movie or simply hanging out, but tonight something was different. You sit next to Armin on his bed, eyebrows knitting together as you quickly try to analyse that feeling.

The three of you had been friends for ages, since you all attended the same elementary school and lived down the same street. You had bonded with Armin first, his quiet and intelligent personality matching well with yours. You remember fondly the warm afternoons in his backyard, grass tickling your skin as he showed you his new ocean life books and you rambled about ancient Egypt, Greek myths or whatever you were fixating on at the moment.

Eren on the other hand – at first you couldn’t stand him. You only knew him as ‘Armin’s other friend’, but he was such a loud and hot headed kid, you’d always found his attitude too off-putting to even start a conversation, and you were pretty sure he didn’t like you either. After some pushing from Armin though, you’d actually tried to get to know each other; much to your surprise, you found out you had a lot of interests in common. Eventually, you’d even come to admire how passionate he got about the things he cared about, how strong his ideals were, and with time his impulsivity left room to a much more calculated approach.

After all these years, the three of you were still as thick as thieves; you’d become so comfortable around each other that people always assumed you were either dating one of them. You’d always brush it off with a laugh, but now you wonder if it’s normal for friends to behave like that around each other. It was the little things at first; lingering touches, wondering eyes, teasing comments. Then Eren’s hands all over you every time you wore a pretty dress, or Armin’s obvious erection that time you and Eren were messing around at the pool; even your friends had noticed how close you were – and never missed a chance to tease you about it.

This is stupid, you conclude. They’re your oldest and closest friends, you won’t allow your attraction to them – at least you’re admitting it’s there – to make things weird.

You move to get the tequila you know they keep hidden in the closet; maybe that will shake the awkwardness away. You take a long sip before handing the bottle to the blond, alcohol still burning in your throat as you lay on your back, head resting on his lap.

You feel him still beneath you; when you look at him, his flustered expression is clear despite the dim lit room – before you can catch yourself, you wonder if he’s still hard from before.

Eren looks at the both of you on Armin’s bed. You’ve closed your eyes and your head is lightly nodding along with some music coming from the hallway, the beat muffled by the closed door. He watches Armin, a fond smile dancing on his lips as he can almost hear the mental pep talk the blond gives himself before raising a hand to play with your hair. You hum at that, eyes slowly opening as you turn your head towards him.

“Eren, come closer” you say, stretching out an arm as if to reach him.

“And why would I do that” he answers with a playful smile on his lips.

You raise your eyebrow, smiling back to him. “If you insist on staying over there, I guess Armin and I are really gonna keep all the fun to ourselves, isn’t that right Armin.” You say lightly, rising from his lap to lay against his side, your body wrapping around his arm; his hand ends up between your closed thighs and somehow you manage not purr in his ear as you rest your head on his shoulder, both of you now facing Eren.

When Armin speaks, you don’t miss how his playful tone hides a hint of malice, eyes fixed on the brunette, “oh I’m sure he wouldn’t mind just watching if we were actually having fun.”

Eren laughs at that, his voice dropping lower.

“True” he admits calmly, as if the thought hadn’t brought him to several orgasms through the years, “but right now I think I’d rather join.”

And he does, sitting close to your other side.

You wish that type of exchange wasn’t as common as it was between the three of you. You also wish it didn’t send a wave of arousal trough your body every single time.

You watch him as he leans toward you to grab the bottle from Armin’s hand, taking a sip of the amber liquor. Your eyes follow a drop of alcohol at the corner of his mouth, unconsciously tightening your hold on the blond as Eren’s tongue comes out to bring the drop past his lips.

In that moment, Armin decides he’s had enough. He’s way too turned on to let all this teasing slide; if the three of you really are as attracted to each other as he thinks, this was the time he was gonna do something about it. So when he speaks, he does with a purpose.

“Is it weird that I’ve kissed both my best friends?” his question sounds so innocent, he even lets out a calculated chuckle to feign embarrassment.

Eren tilts his head toward him, throwing him a curious glance “You still remember that? Must have been one hell of a kiss huh” he smirks.

Armin knows he’s teasing, and that he clearly remembers too, but he can’t help the pink blush that colours his cheeks as his thoughts rush back to that night.

It happened first semester of junior year, after Sasha’s ‘small’ housewarming party had quickly turned into a full blown party. As the music got louder and more and more people filled the tiny flat, Jean, all tipsy and bright eyed, had gathered all of you in Sasha’s room to play spin the bottle – most of you had booed him, but you’d followed him anyway.

After watching you awkwardly peck Connie on the lips and Mikasa blush violently as Sasha took her face between her hands and gave her a loud smooch, it was his turn to play. He gave the bottle a spin and almost choked on his spit when it landed on Eren. He remembers everyone cheering as he tried to stop his face from flushing red, looking everywhere but at Eren; that’s how his eyes landed on you, quiet where your friends were loud, your eyes focused on him in a way that was almost daring.

He followed your gaze as it moved towards Eren, finally making eye contact with the boy. His attempts look composed failed miserably when Eren, a lazy smirk spreading on his lips, beckoned him with his hand to move closer.

“I- uh we don’t have to…” he choked out.

Eren’s smirk grew wider, “It’s just a game Armin, what are you scared of?”

Armin couldn’t tell if his tone was soft or mocking, either way he felt as he had something to prove now.

He stood on his knees and crawled on the floor as Eren mirrored him, ignoring the way his stomach flipped as they met in the middle of the circle, so close he could feel his breath over his lips.

“What’s taking so long?” Jean said from somewhere behind him, “it’s not like you haven’t done this before” he teased.

Armin wanted to turn back and state that no, they had not actually done that before – he’d probably sound way more disappointed than he should – but before he could even open his mouth he felt a hand on his cheek; his eyes flickered back to Eren’s green ones, only to find them trained on his lips as the brunette sealed the gap between them.

Eren’s lips felt so impossibly soft again his, he tasted like vodka and something sweet he couldn’t recognise and Armin couldn’t really thing about anything as he lost himself in the kiss. The hand on his cheek moved through his hair and Eren pulled slightly, just enough to make Armin gasp against his lips, taking the chance to slide his tongue against his lower lip and into his mouth. Armin broke the kiss at that, a whimper leaving his lips because he wanted, needed more, but the feelings building up inside him – and the arousal making his pants tighter – were sending him in a slight panic.

He barely registered his friends’ loud noises as he sat back on his spot, but he didn’t miss the way Eren winked at him and licked his lips, green eyes boring into his blue ones. Armin struggled to act like his normal self rather than some teenager who had just kissed his long time crush. He desperately tried to focus on something, anything but Eren and his stupid lips and stupid grin and stupidly pretty eyes right in front of him, and that’s how his eyes found you again.

You had watched the whole scene with an interest you hoped went unnoticed by your friends. You sure hoped Mikasa, sat right next to you, had missed the way your breath hitched in your throat as you watched the blond gasp under Eren’s grip, heat coursing through your body and pooling between your legs. When Armin’s blue eyes found you, flustered, with half lidded eyes and teeth sunk in your bottom lip, you’d lowered your head in shame.

Eren rests his head again the wall and closes his eyes, as to enhance the memory.

It had been over a year ago, yet he remembered Armin’s sweet lips against his, the small noises he unconsciously let out going straight to his groin.

He remembered your face, eyes glossy with desire as you watched them part, flustered almost as much as Armin, as if you’d been the one kissing him instead, and oh had he wanted to kiss you. Had it been just the three of you in that room, he would have grabbed your face and bruised those pretty lips, forcing Armin’s sweet taste in your mouth.

He’d long given up the guilt that came with fantasising about his closest friends, any uncomfortable feeling quickly replaced by pleasure every time he wrapped his hand around his cock. At first it was just one of you under him, on top of him; soon enough he’d started picturing both of you on your knees, eyes bright and pleading, pink tongue hanging out of your mouths as you wait for him to paint your pretty faces with his cum.

“So who’s the best kisser?” you ask, your warm breath against Armin’s ear making him shiver.

“I can’t- You both… I’m not gonna answer that.” Armin manages to sound flustered when he answers.

Eren looks at him. “I would” he states nonchalantly, “but I don’t have all the materials to make my choice.” His tone drops to a low murmur, green eyes slowly shifting to you.

Armin tries to hold back a smile, both of you reacting exactly as he anticipated.

Your heart is hammering in your chest, it’s beat so loud you’re sure both of the boys can hear it; when you speak, you desperately try to keep your voice steady.

“Then god forbid you make an uniformed decision.”

Eren is straight up grinning at this point; he grabs your wrists and tugs you closer, pulling you on his lap. You balance yourself on his shoulders as his hands graze your bare thighs up and down, your skirt bunching up to your hips and barely covering your panties.

When your eyes meet, you’re shocked at how softly he’s looking at you. “I’ve been waiting a while for this” he murmurs, his voice almost a whisper, and you swear you can feel him stroking your cheek before burying his hands your hair and drawing you closer. He’s so warm all pressed up against you, so sweet when his lips ghost against yours before finally kissing you.

You’re slow to respond at first, too lost in how right it feels to have him so close and all over you, but you’re quick to part your lips for him, his tongue sliding against yours; he tastes of alcohol and you get drunk on it, a small moan leaving your throat and getting lost in the kiss. You whimper as you feel him groping your ass and push you even closer. He’s kissing you like a man starved, devouring you, the intensity making you feel light headed. You break apart from the kiss with a sigh, head falling on his shoulder, barely registering what you’re doing as you lightly grind against his hardening cock.

Eren groans as he tugs your hair so that you can look at him, his dark pupils swallowing up almost any trace of green.

“So needy… how many times have you thought about this?” he asks, a teasing smile on his lips as his fingers play with the hem of your skirt.

You look away from him, cheeks heating up; you don’t want to admit how many times you’ve cummed on your fingers with their names on your lips, but you don’t think you have a choice.

His head dips lower to press an open mouth kiss to the column of your throat, “Answer baby, there’s no need to be shy; we’re all friends here.”

You suck in your breath, voice embarrassingly shaky “so- so many times, w- with both of you” you confess.

Armin groans at your words, a curse slipping past his lips. “We- we could have done this so long ago” he mumbles, eyes fixed on you as he palms himself through his jeans. You feel so hot under his gaze, so wanted, you never want his eyes to leave your body.

Eren steals your attention by sucking a purple mark at the base of your neck; you bite back a moan as he licks at the bruise, heat pooling in your panties. he clicks his tongue in disapproval.

“This won’t do” he says softly against the shell of your ear “how can Armin hear all your pretty noises if you hold them back?”

Before you can choke out an apology, his lips go back on your neck, finding that sweet spot below your ear that makes you whimper. You’re trembling as he sucks another bruise on your skin and this time you don’t hold back, soft moans leaving your lips as your hands grips his hair, tugging it loose and fawning all over his shoulders.

Eren pulls back, admiring his work as you try to steady your breath.

“Good girl” he murmurs, “let us hear you.”

You shudder at his words. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, and he’s barely put his mouth on you. You can feel wet slick gathering in your panties and you shift to straddle one of his thighs, grinding hard to relieve the tension as your head falls back, a loud moan leaving your lips.

Two strings of low curses reach your ears, and you barely register Armin slipping a hand under his pants as Eren pulls you down on him again, the knee you have trapped between his legs pressing against his hard cock.

“Fuck, baby you wanna cum like that? Riding my thigh?” he pants, slightly bouncing his leg up to meet your movements, successfully drawing another moan out of your lips.

He brings a hand your face, almost reverent as his thumb grazes your lower lip, just like you’d done with Armin barely an hour ago. Your tongue darts out and licks the tip of his thumb before wrapping your lips around it, sucking slightly as you nod, eager.

Eren parts his lips, eyes glued to your mouth. He can’t believe he finally has you – both of you – as he wants you, as he’s pictured so many times; he wonders if he’ll come undone in his pants like a teenager, as you add pressure on his throbbing cock with each grind of your hips. He slips his finger from your warm lips, rushing his hands under your skirt to take off your panties.

When you finally readjust yourself on his thick thigh, you almost sob at the feeling of your bare, sensitive cunt against the rough material of his pants. Before you can resume your movements, he lifts up the piece of fabric, dangling it in front of your face.

“Look at this” he murmurs, “completely soaked” his voice trailing off as an idea suddenly forms in his mind.

He turns to Armin, and fuck, he feels his cock twitch at the sight. The blond is laying against the headboard, legs spread apart; he has a hand wrapped tight at the base of his hard, leaking cock, his pretty face all scrunched up in pleasure.

Armin’s cheeks heat up when he notices Eren’s eyes on him, but it doesn’t stop him from slowly stroking his cock, trying to delay his orgasm as much as possible.

“’Min, you think you could use these?” Eren asks, dark eyes dropping between the blond’s legs. Armin’s eyes widen at the request, his brain shutting down for a moment as he looks at the drenched panties in his hand.

“What? I- I-…” he looks at you, dazed, half lidded eyes boring into his blue ones as you rub slowly on eren’s thigh. “Y- yes please” he chokes out, shame reddening the tip of his ears.

“So polite… what a good boy” Eren purrs, his deep voice making Armin twitch in his own hand.

He takes the panties, the beads of your arousal thick on the side your cunt was, and he wraps the fabric around his cock. You watch with wide eyes, struggling to believe that sweet innocent Armin would ever give you such a lewd sight; you’re itching to lean over and kiss, lick, bite every inch of his body, but Eren’s grip on your waist keeps you in place.

Armin moans loudly as your slick smears all over his shaft. He keeps rubbing at himself with your panties trapped between his hand and his cock and how the fuck is this already topping every sexual experience I’ve ever had he manages to think. His eyes trail up and down your body, Eren’s body, and he doesn’t even notice how much his strokes speed up, hips bucking desperately into his own hand.

“Slow down baby or you’ll miss all the fun” Eren’s voice is as soft as the hand he puts on his leg to appease him. “If you behave, y/n will let you cum on her, right?” he says, sneaking a hand between your legs and sliding two fingers between your dripping folds.

“Ah- ye- yes Armin, wherever you want” you squeak, arching your back as Eren slips his fingers inside you. You feel inebriated as he slowly starts pumping, his fingertips massaging your walls, so slowly you want to cry. You wail when his fingers curl over your sweet spot, a hand gripping your waist to stop you from fucking yourself against his hand.

“Please ‘Ren, oh god, please, faster” you sob, high pitched moans slipping past your lips before you even realise it.

Instead of listening to you, Eren pulls his fingers out and slides them up to your clit, collecting your slick; you whimper when he retracts his hand from your cunt, pressing down on his thigh once again to get more friction. When your clit brushes against a wrinkle in his pants your eyes roll inside your head, orgasm so close you can taste it, but apparently Eren has other plans.

“Not yet baby, hold it for a bit longer, will you?” he purrs close to your ear, his mouth peppering wet kisses on your neck.

“Please a-ah Eren I c-can’t-” your words come out as broken sobs but you’ve long stopped caring, your brain filled with nothing but pleasure.

When Eren looks at your face you look absolutely wrecked, sweat shining on your forehead and cheeks red from the strain, chest heaving as quick pants come out of your parted lips. “

Armin, come here.” He says, hungry eyes still locked on yours. The blond obeys and shuffles closer to the two of you, your panties forgotten on the bed.

“You’ve been so good I think you deserve a reward” he says, as he pushes the glistening fingers he’d just pulled out of your cunt straight into Armin’s pretty mouth.

The blond moans at your taste, both hands coming to grab Eren’s wrist and push his fingers further in his mouth, choking slightly when they hit the back of his throat. Eren watches him in a trance, mesmerised by his blown eyes and the drop of spit that dribbles from the corner of his mouth. He wants to fucking ruin him. But not yet.

He takes his hand from the blond’s grasp – the whimper that leaves his mouth almost makes him cum on the spot. Eren lifts you from his lap, ignoring your pout as he places you right beside Armin.

“Sit still for me” he says as he slowly palms his cock before unbuttoning his pants and sliding them down with his boxers. You hear Armin suck in his breath as Eren’s hard cock slaps against his stomach, your own eyes widening at the sight; in length he almost matches the blonde, but the girth is just… fuck. Even dwarfed by his huge hand it’s almost intimidating, a thick vein reaching his pink leaking tip.

Eren takes his time as he pumps himself, eyes fixed on both of you; he drinks in your pretty, desperate faces, hands clutching the bedsheets as you try not to squirm under his gaze.

“Where do you wanna cum ’Min?” Eren’s question snaps him off a stupor, eyes leaving his groin to settle on your face.

You’re surprised Armin can blush more than he already is as he stutters that he wants to cum on you tits. You smirk as you quickly take off your top and unhook your bra, lust clouding you senses as you lay on the bed, head towards Eren as you motion Armin to straddle your waist. His eyes flicker to Eren and you miss the brunette’s nod before Armin comes on top of you, knees straddling your thighs.

Armin can’t believe just how fucking pretty you look under him, naked except for that cute pleated skirt you’re somehow still wearing. His hand trails up your stomach to squeeze your tits, fingers playing with your nipples as he pumps himself faster.

You feel Eren’s hand cradle your face, “touch yourself” he says, and you do just that.

With your skirt bunched up at your waist and your fingers quickly circling your clit, Armin doesn’t stand a chance; he leans forward, a hand planted on the bed as he cums on your tits with loud moan and your name on his lips, warm liquid painting your heaving chest.

You watch the blond leaning back against the headboard, desperately trying to catch his breath; you lock eyes with him, toungue wetting your lips as you bring a hand up to play with the mess he made on you, getting high on the look of pure defeat on his face as you take your cum coated fingers back to your clit.

“Oh fuck” Eren can’t believe how wrecked his own voice sounds “who would have thought you two would be such dirty sluts” he pants, his hand sliding faster and faster against his cock.

You moan at his words “’Ren p-please can- can I-”

“Cum.” He orders, and you obey right away.

The sounds that leave your lips are nothing short of pornographic, your body shaking and twitching in pleasure, mouth agape and head thrown back as white lights explode behind your eyelids, any coherent thought wiped out of your brain. Eren chokes out a curse at the sight, soft, high pitched groans echoing in the room until he finally cums with a broken moan, the liquid coating his hand and making a mess on his clothes.

It takes a while before any of you even attempts to move; silence falls in the room once again, except for your labored pants mixed with the music still playing in the hallway.

Eren is the first to get up and head for the bathroom. By the time you’ve all taken a shower and settled back on Armin’s bed, no one has still said a word. You feel anxiety settle low in your stomach, its grip speeding up your heartbeats.

Did you ruin everything? Is this the end of your friendship?

“So who’s the best kisser?”

Armin’s voice comes out tired and rough, but it puts a halt to the doubts swirling in your mind.

The breathy chuckle leaving Eren’s mouth sends a wave of relief through your body; “I’m sorry ’Min but y/n is definitely winning this one.” You smile as you feel his hand ghosting over your spine.

“Yeah, figured.”

The blond curls up against you and you’re still smiling.

The bed is way too small for the three of you and the night breeze coming from the window does little to cool you down, but you’ve never been better, a warm feeling spreading from where your bodies connect with each other.

As slumber takes you, you hope they’re still gonna be there when you wake up.

1K notes · View notes

imthebadguyyy · 3 years

Note

Hi. This is mine request

Y/n is a teammate of max verstappen, they are in a relationship, y/n crashes and max is worried about her, and he is gonna visit her in the hospital, and when she is released he takes care of her, with a lott of fluff thanks

You Scared Me To Death !

Pairing - Max Verstappen x Reader

Fandom - F1

Summary - When you get hurt, Max realizes just how much you mean to him.

Warnings - mentions of injury, fire, explosion, violence, angst, crash details.

75 laps. That's all that you had to do. Drive for 75 laps. The Bahrain Grand Prix had always been one of your favourite races of the year, and you were so excited. But that excitement had soon ebbed away, after you had missed qualifying because your car wasn't ready for the quali session. The RedBull mechanics had apologised and you had brushed them off, buy you would be lying if you said you weren't angry. It hadn't helped when your teammate and boyfriend Max qualified P1, beating the Mercedes by mere tenths of a second. You had swallowed your hurt and congratulated Max, forcing yourself to feel happy for him.

All it had done was made you determined to win the race tomorrow, even if you had to fight 19 other drivers to do so. Starting P20 on the grid sucked big time, but as Martin Brundle said, "If anyone can fight back from the back of the grid to the podium places, its Y/N L/N" and you had done it before, at the German GP the previous year, fighting back from P19 to P3, winning Driver of The Day as well.

But this race was different. There was a building intensity in the air, you felt it in the air around you. You felt tense and nervous, and you were never nervous. It scared you, but you were going to be damned if you let it show on your face. In your drivers room, you paced back and forth, trying desperately to stop your hands from shaking. Was this what anxiety felt like? you wondered, shaking your head as your heart started hammering against your chest. Far to consumed in your own panicked thoughts, you didn't see your boyfriend walk up to your door, and open it to walk inside.

Max walked into your room, expecting to see you vibing to some R&B music, or something by Rihanna. But you weren't. You were pacing, your brow furrowed and he could see the irregular rise and fall of your chest. He walked up behind you silently, before wrapping his arms around your waist, like he normally did. What he wasn't expecting was your reaction. Usually, you would giggle and let your head fall onto his shoulder, and he would kiss your neck and you two would share a moment. But not this time. This time, you jumped, and nearly fell over onto your bed. "Woah schtaje ! It's just me' he said, eyes softening in concern. "I'm sorry I didn't see you and I shouldn't have jumped, I'm sorry I'm just so klutzy today and I'm also so nervous I-" your nervous rambling was cut off by a pair of warm lip pressing onto your own, as Max's hands cupped your face, instantly calming down your nerves.

You stayed like that for a moment, before pulling away softly, and letting him press his forehead down to yours, fingers gently tracing patterns on your hip. "Why are you nervous mijn geliefde ?" he asked, as he moved his lips to your neck, pressing little kisses along the sensitive skin. "I don't know" you confessed, tilting your head back to give him more access to the expanse of skin, while he stopped at a pulse point to suck at the soft skin, earning. soft moan from you. "Then stop stressing" he mumbled against your neck, word muffling against your skin. "I can't" you replied, struggling to keep the lump in your throat fro growing. "Well," Max said, biting down onto your neck and licking the spot to soothe it, 'Let me help you calm down"

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

20 seconds to lights out.

Your heart was thumping so hard against your chest. God, were your hands always so clammy? Was the car always so stuffy ? Was the space always so confined? Was your helmet always that tight?

Your thoughts were muddled. You knew your goal. It was simple. Get to the podium. Except, right now, that goal seemed somewhat impossible. Before you knew, the first red light was flashing, and then the second, and the third and the fourth and the fifth, and then it was 'lights out and away we go!' you sped off, immediately overtaking Magnussen in the car ahead of you. Then, you overtook one of the Williams, but you could feel your breath wavering, and your heart threatening just burst out of your chest. And before you knew it, you were overtaking Giovinazzi in his Alfa Romeo, and the sight of Grosjean's Haas came into view, "And it looks like L/N has already taken over 4 places, making her P16, and we are on lap 2 of 75! It looks like we're going to see her on the podium after, all, but all we can do is wait and see- and oh! that's a terrible, terrible crash!"

It happened so fast. One moment, you were going round the outside of the Haas, and the next the back of the Haas was hitting your front, sending you crashing into one of the barriers, your car spinning a full 360 in the process. The impact as you crashed into the barriers was so intense, you felt yourself blackout for a few seconds.

"That was a horrible crash, between, the RedBull of Y/N L/N and the Haas, I believe of Romain Grosjean. This race has been red flagged and -oh no!' The cry summed it up. Your car had just burst into flames.

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

In P1, Max was unaware of the chaos at the back, until he looked in his rear mirrors to see something enveloping into a ball of fire. "Holy shit, whose car is that?" he asked, watching as the flames grew higher. "Um.. Max, I need you to stay calm, but its Y/N" "Are you fucking serious?!" his angry voice burst through his race engineer's headphones, making him flinch. "Is she okay?! Tell me she's okay, damn it!' "Max, I need you to come into the pit lane. We have no information on her yet. Come into the pit lane"

As the 18 other cars came into the pitman, everyone knew better than to park in the way of an anxious Max Verstappen. He jumped out of the car, running to the garage upto Christian, who was watching the screen with his eyebrow furrowed. "Is she alright? Tell me she got out?! Did she get out?!" he was practically spitting the words out, and his engineer and his trainer had to physically restrain him from going to shake Christian. "She hasn't got out yet Max, but the fire Marshalls and the medical guys are there-" "What do you mean she hasn't got out? verdomme, blijf hier niet zitten! doe iets!!"

As his race engineer manoeuvred him to his chair, he yelled at whoever was around, eyes desperately searching to screen for some sign that you were still alive. Outside the RedBull garage, the other drivers were pooling around the garage for some sign that Y/N was okay. The panic had been evident in all their radios.

Charles - "Fuck, fuck, fuck, who was that? Y/N?! Tell me she's okay!"

Carlos - "Joder, ¿quién era ese?" I just saw the car go into flames, tell me they got out okay.

Lewis - oh shit, that was a big crash, fucking hell, is she okay?

Checo- oh no, that was a big one, I hope everyone is okay!

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

Back in the car, you felt dazed. Since when was the track this hot, and since when when was your car red ? Were you driving for Ferrari ? No, you drove for RedBull, alongside Max. Your boyfriend Max. Why wasn't he here?

And why did you feel like you were sitting in a sauna? As you begain to regain your consciousness, you felt a searing pain on your hands, and finally clearing the fogginess of your mind, you became fully aware of what was happening. This was your RedBull car. But it was on fire. Almost instantly, your body went into survival mode, ripping the half burnt straps holding your body down, and forcing your limbs to stand up. Looking down you could see your racing gloves glow before they seemed to disintegrate into black dust before your eyes, the flames licking your hands. A scream started in your chest, only to be jammed in your throat, as you opened your mouth to gasp. Big mistake.

The smoke filled your mouth and lungs, and you choked, clawing at your race suit, begging some higher power to help you. Finally, using some courage and adrenaline you didn't know you had, you pulled your body up, bare hands coming in contact with searing hot metal, as your eyes filled with tears of pain. As you jumped out of the car, you became vaguely aware of 3 or 4 people signaling and screaming at you. Too exhausted to even think, you used whatever remaining adrenaline you had to stumble to the barrier and collapse into the first pair of arms.

"Can you hear me? Are you okay? Can you tell me if you're hurt?" The questions were hurled at you from all directions, but you couldn't speak. The head marshall walked up, bracing your body, and checking for injuries. In a hurried voice he asked for the stretcher, but you shook your head. The exhaustion was setting in but you knew you had to let the others know you were okay. But he insisted, and you found yourself sitting on the stretcher instead of lying down, as a medic gently removed your helmet and peeled off the remaining burnt glove, and pressed some ice gently against your burn. Mustering up your remaining strength, you turned to one of the broadcasting cameras and flashed them a tight smile and a thumbs up.

"And as you can see, she has managed to get out of the wreckage, by God's miracle. Thank God she's walked away from that, but how, I cannot comprehend! She went barelling into the barrier and burst into flames and she walked out alive! And I can hear the cheers of the RedBull team, and I think her race engineer is in tears. I can't begin to imagine how Max Verstappen must be feeling"

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

Max Verstappen wasn't sure how he was feeling either. He had felt fear, anger, anxiety, more fear, devastation and dread in the longest 15 minutes of his life. But you were alive. And he felt like breaking down, but he had to be strong for you. He watched your tired form on the screen, feeling giddy with relief, and ignoring the others around him, he ran to the medical hospitality center. No one stopped him.

As the white building came into sight, he heaved a sigh of relief as Michael Masi appeared in front of the cameras to give the anxious fans an update. "Y/N is alright. She's currently in recovery, and I can inform you that she is okay. She has minor burns on her hands, and is exhausted, but she will be okay. 2 weeks healing time for the burns, and some proper rest should be fine for her. That's all I know, and I would ask the media, press, social media fans, and others to give her the time she needs to cope and recover. What she has been through is traumatizing and I hope you will respect her privacy at this time. Thank you"

Seeing his hesitation, the nurse turned to the driver, "It's okay. She's fine now. She's on some painkillers and I've cleaned her burns and dressed them. She will be fine, and you can hug her or whatever you want, she won't be hurt. I've kept some painkillers on the table, she should take some again in 2 hours or so" All Max could do was nod, suddenly feeling a lump grow in his throat. With a smile in your direction, the nurse walked out of the room, leaving you alone with Max.

Max turned to nod at the race director, before hurrying through the brown door that led to the medical room you were in. When he walked in, his entire body relaxed. You were alive and safe. Seeing you sitting up in bed, a bottle of water by your side as a nurse wrapped your burnt hand in a white bandage. Looking, your tired eyes met his blue ones, as a tired smile made his way to your face. "Y/N",he said breathily, "Thank God you're alive" he said, practically running over to you, but he stopped himself from hugging, unsure of if it would hurt you.

"Hey baby". All it took was two words for him to rush towards you, gently wrapping his arms around your form, burying his head in the crook of your neck, as a gasping sob left his mouth, and you could have sworn you felt your heart shatter. "I'm okay baby, I'm okay. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm okay" your mantra of "I'm okay" was soothing, as he sobbed into your shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you, you scared me to death!" "I know my love but I'm here and I'm okay" "I thought you were gone. When I saw the flames behind me I didn't even know it was you in the car. When they told me it was you I swear my fucking heart stopped, and all I could do was pray to whatever higher power exists to save you, because I'm nothing without you. If you hadn't made it, I wouldn't survive. You make me better, you help me love, and you let me heal. I love you, and I never, ever want to see you in a situation like that again"

"I love you too" you said, your eyes filling with tears as you listened to him speak. "I love you too" you repeated, gently lifting his chin so his eyes could meet yours, his tear stained cheeks and red eyes breaking your heart, as you tilted your lips to meet his. He returned the kiss with desperation, he needed even more proof that you were alive, and feeling your lips on his were a reminder that you were alive and weren't going anywhere. He kissed you with fervour, hands moving to your hair, one cupping your cheek as his thumb traced your cheekbone, your hands clutching his broad chest.

"Ouch" the soft cry made you two break apart, as you rubbed your stinging hands. "Did I hurt you?" He said, his eyes filling with worry. "No its just the burn. It'll be fine" you replied, shifting in your bed and patting the spot next to you. After a moments hesitation, he climbed in, raising the sterile white sheet and tucking the both of you in. You snuggled up to him, arms wrapping around him as you rested your head on his chest. He rested his chin on your head, one hand running through your hair, the other keeping you stable on his chest. Within seconds, you were asleep.

Looking down at your sleeping form, his eyes lingered on the white bandage covering your burn, his eyes filling again as it stood out against your skin. He hated it. It was a reminder that you had nearly died. He had nearly lost you. His train of thought was cut off by his phone ringing, his mum's caller ID flashing across the screen.

"Hi mum" "Is she okay?" His greeting was pushed aside, his mom far too concerned about Y/N. "Yes she's alright now. She's sleeping now, Yeah I'm with her now" "Y/N's mom is with me too, I'll let her know she's okay" "Thanks mum" "Don't forget to rest as well Max" his mum said, knowing full well that her son would forget about taking care of himself when it came to his love. "I will"

And he cut the line. He looked down at you one more time, pressing his lips to your forehead, and swearing to himself that he would protect you for all his life. He let his eyes close, the exhaustion finally getting to him, all his adrenaline and energy draining out his body, and finally content that you were going to be okay, he let his eyes close.

You were going to be okay.

#f1 #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #f1 imagines #f1 imagine #f1 drivers x reader #f1 x you #f1 x reader #max verstappen x y/n

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meetmymouth · 3 years

Note

ooh I think #7 and #17 from the blurb list would fit very well together! if you want!

THANK YOU LINDS <3<3

prompt list here, send a number!!

#7 If we both want to fit, we’ll have to cuddle

#17 Sleeping in the same bed for the first time

THIS IS 3K IM SORRY I COULDN'T HELP MYSELF SO PLEASE REBLOG LMAOOOOOO!!!!!

"This is my room," comes a gruff voice behind you as you keep looking out the window, taking in the greenery and the beautiful ocean.

See, you knew he would be here.

You knew, because Harry and Mitch were attached at the hip, and you didn't mind. You didn't mind seeing your ex every time you were invited to hang out with MitchandSarah & co, except when said ex decided to be an evil arsehole.

Perhaps, calling him an "ex" was weird, seeing how your time alone only consisted of you both getting high, mostly naked as he whispered the filthiest things in your ear and promised to make you feel good, be the best you've ever had. Other than that, though, he was an insufferable bastard. Since you never hung out with the man without your friends around–getting rat-arsed and high... and the activities that followed aside–, you didn't know if he was always this annoying.

He seemed to be getting along just fine with the others, especially Sarah and the other girls, so you had no problems scratching off the "women hater" off your list. And you can't ever recall him being this insufferable while you both were fucking which was, in his case, miserable. So, it was definitely annoying. You weren't that interested in him to think that he was being mean because he was secretly in love with you. That was a myth, a pathetic myth, wasn't it? No, you wouldn't steep that low. He was just an arse, full stop.

You turn around with an eye-roll, and within seeing his face, you nearly clench your fists like a ten-year-old. "Do you live here?" You ask, hoping the boring expression on your face is also detectable in your tone.

It's certainly not a surprise when Harry scoffs.

"I don't, but I picked this room first. Since, you know," he looks around, and walks further into the room, finally stopping at the feet of the bed. "You were late. As per."

"Oh fuck off. This isn't summer camp. Besides, I don't see any of your shit around. The room was empty when I arrived."

"If you bothered to look inside the wardrobe..."

Seriously, you find yourself thinking, how the fuck did you ever end up with this man. Naked.

There's a commotion downstairs, so you both turn to the door, but much to your dismay, there's no one coming to check up on you and hopefully, save you from Harry Styles' pathetic gob.

You turn towards the window again, eyes squinting briefly at the last bits of sunshine that's glinting from between the branches.

"Well. You shouldn't have left then. You weren't here when I arrived."

Harry shakes his head, and you swear you can see his nostrils flaring if you look carefully. Though, you just watch him with a smug smile on your face as he walks to the wardrobe and pulls open the white doors. True to his word, his clothes are there, perfectly folded, and for a moment you feel a pang of guilt before you look back up at his face and see the furrowed eyebrows.

"See. My clothes. I'm sure Sarah will sort it out for you, find you another room or summat."

"There's only three bedrooms. Can't sleep with a pregnant woman and her boyfriend, can I?"

"What about Rachel and David? Aren't you best friend's with her?"

"Harry, you're ridiculous. Just–" you wipe the sweat off of your forehead, feeling yourself grow hotter and hotter each passing minute. "–just sleep on the sofa. This is my first vacation this year. You go on holidays every week or so. Let us commoners have this."

"Oh, please. Didn't you have a girls weekend getaway or whatever the fuck in Soho Farmhouse two weeks ago?"

You can't help the scoff that leaves your mouth, and a raised eyebrow follows. "How do you know about that?"

"Because," he rolls his eyes, and slams the wardrobe shut. "You post seven hundred stories every day."

"You're a stalker."

"You sleep on the sofa."

You smirk, noticing how he avoided your previous statement.

To be fair, you hated posting on your story. Though, knowing Harry followed you on Instagram made posting on there fun, and seeing his username on the list of who watched your stories pop up at the very top every single time whenever you posted a story almost made you let out a mingy little laugh and rub your hands together, and scream "gotcha!".

"I won't."

"You're getting on my nerves."

"What a coincidence," you ignore the stare he's sending your way and walk towards your carry on, and start taking the contents out one by one, laying everything on the bed.

He watches with a scowl on his face, arms crossed across his chest, and a satisfied smile paints your features as you take out the toiletries bag next.

"Are you seriously unpacking right now?" Harry cranes his neck so he can see better. He looks ridiculous, standing in the middle of the room with arms crossed, but you refrain from saying anything.

In fact, you don't even answer him. Perhaps, you find yourself thinking, it was silly to unpack your underwear first. It wasn't as if you brought super "sexy" shit or lace everything. You can definitely feel his gaze watching your every movement as you take everything out carefully and place them on top of each other. With most of your underwear in hand, you get on one knee in front of the bedside table and open the drawer, placing everything inside and it's surprising how he hasn't claimed the bedside table yet.

"Look," he sighs. "I'll talk to Sarah, maybe you can sleep with her and Mitch–"

"–don't be stupid we're not making them sleep with other people because you can't be a gentleman and sleep on the sofa."

"Oh for fuck's sake," he growls, and you finally look at him, eyebrows raised in hopes of making him feel as stupid as he sounds right now. Unfortunately, though, he continues, "Okay, damn it, I'll sleep on the floor."

Fool.

"Common sense, Harry. Always pick sofa. No matter what."

"Were you born to make my life a living hell?"

"Look," you sit on the bed, and look around. "This is boring me to death. I'm sleeping on the bed. If you shut your gob, you can sleep with me on the bed."

Harry lets out an obnoxious laugh. "Just admit I was here first and you didn't bother checking the–"

"Yes, I didn't and what about it? I'm here now, aren't I? I'm on the bed, babes. Anyway," you get on your feet, and with one last look at him, you start walking towards the door. "I'll see you in a bit. I guess."

You both manage to avoid each other as much as you can throughout the day, and really, it wasn't that hard considering the good company of your friends, good food and good alcohol. You mainly helped Sarah and Rachel in the kitchen as the men lounged on the sun loungers, Mitch handling the grill and David helping you guys with the drinks that came in and out of the house pretty quickly with the way you lot consumed them like water.

You spend the night eating, laughing and drinking, sometimes singing along to whatever song played on David's fancy Bluetooth speaker, and everyone begins ushering inside with full bellies and most of them–except the very pregnant Sarah–with a tipsy smile on their faces.

You leave before Harry though, leaving him smoking his last cigarette by the pool while you run up the stairs and into the room, closing the door behind you. You quickly get rid of the romper and get your favourite pyjamas on, eyes searching for the orange makeup bag so you can take off the remaining makeup before bed. You knew it was silly not to do your night routine, but you still zip the bag closed with a sad expression on your face, not wanting to see your toner and night cream any more than you needed to as you throw it on the floor next to your bags. It's pathetic really, how determined you are to get in the bed before Harry can that you forego your whole routine and stick to some cotton pads. Though, plugging your charger and getting between the cool sheets make you forget all about it as you let out a sigh, and unlock your phone to do your nightly scroll before falling asleep.

As you double tap on a selfie, the door opens, and you hear him scoff, again. You keep scrolling though, and try to sneak a few glances at him as he makes a beeline for the wardrobe, and to your surprise, begins to undress. You try to stay calm, and not to think about how domestic this whole thing seems; being in the same room as him as he gets ready for bed.

Right, getting ready for bed.

You keep your eyes on your phone as his clothes hit the floor one by one, and when you look up briefly, he's got a pair of joggers on, and he's throwing the clothes he had on in the wardrobe.

He turns around, and find your gaze, and he rolls his eyes.

"I knew you'd be in bed, here, as soon as I heard someone running. Forgot you were a literal five-year-old," he mutters under his breath, loud enough so you can still hear him. "I'm not sleeping on the sofa."

"I love how you're basically arguing with yourself."

"Like I said, I'm not sleeping on the sofa. I didn't come all the way to sleep on a bloody sofa."

"Suit yourself. I guess we're sharing. Unless," you lock your phone, and place it on the bedside table. "You want to share," you shrug, adjusting your pillow and sigh at the cool fabric against your hot cheeks.

You can feel him thinking, the wheels turning in his head, and you finally hear the floorboards creek underneath his feet as he walks closer to the bed, and pushes the sheets off of you. The whole thing.

You blink in surprise. "Stop it, dude! What the fuck."

"I'm getting in! Fuck's sake, be quiet."

"You did that just to annoy me."

You're both quiet for a minute, Harry taking his rings off and then comes his socks, and he finally copies you, laying on his back on the bed. He covers the both of you, though you know it's not intentional since he couldn't do it without covering his own body with the duvet, and then he lets out a strangled sigh.

"The bed's too small."

"Are you calling me fat?"

"What?" He turns his face to you, and perhaps it's the first time he's looking at you– really looking.

His brows are furrowed, and lips turned downwards in a pout.

"I'm taking the piss, Harry. I know you're not calling me fat."

"Good," he says, though his voice isn't exactly soft. "I wouldn't."

"Good."

Silence.

It's unbearable.

Despite the hot weather, you feel yourself shiver, and you wish you were the only one in bed so you could do the whole burrito technique with the duvet. Alas... you stay where you are. You both do.

A dog barks in the distance, the high-pitched bark coming through the open window, and you can feel Harry breathing too fast beside you. You want to shout at him, tell him to fuck off and... not breathe too fast, though it sounds a bit too rude even for you, so you stay silent and wait for the dog to pipe the fuck down.

You try to turn on your side, because you could never see yourself fall asleep laying on your back like a vampire, but you almost fall, not anticipating the tiny space you've got going on. It's bad, and you know you're not going to get a good sleep. So, you find yourself contemplating about getting up and sleeping on the sofa because honestly, fuck him.

Harry shuffles next to you, presumably trying to find a good position to sleep in himself, but he lets out a groan and it startles you.

"What's wrong with you!"

"The bed's too fucking small."

"We've established that."

He sniffs, hands clenching the sheets around his body. "I don't sleep on my back. My back hurts."

You don't say anything, hoping for him to just get up and leave, go sleep on the sofa. He doesn't, though. It's another fifteen minutes before you let out another sigh, trying to get comfortable on the bed, and Harry copies you. You both turn on your sides, facing each other and Harry groans when your knee makes contact with his thigh, making you cringe in embarrassment. A quiet sorry leaves your mouth and he shakes his head, then turns the other way, facing the door.

"Fuck," he spits after a minute. "If we both want to fit, we'll have to cuddle."

"Cuddle? Fuck no."

"Just," he turns to you again, but the bed is too small for you both so his knees touch yours. "Just come closer. Either that, or go sleep on the sofa."

"Why don't you–"

"You're so stubborn! Come closer, I won't eat you or fall in love with you. Fuck."

You groan, but oblige for some reason, feeling your heart beginning to beat faster for some ridiculous reason.

It's been a long time, you find yourself trying to convince your heart. It's been a long, long time since you've been this close to a human being. Too long since you've cuddled with someone, so obviously you were going to feel a little excited, and weird. Yes, definitely weird.

You get closer and he lifts up his arm, you both sharing a look before you roll your eyes and place your hand on his wrist, placing it on your hip. He's quiet, eyes searching yours, and the crease between his brows are gone, and you want to laugh, because who knew it only took your skin against his to wipe that stupid grimace off of his face.

"I still think you're annoying," Harry mumbles, clearly sleepy. His hold on your hip becomes tighter as his thumb strokes your skin over the fabric.

"I know. Just shut up and sleep."

#harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles writing #harry styles concept #concepts #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfiction #babyurthendofjune #ask

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thesunshinebunny · 4 years

Note

Can I ask for the dorm leaders reacting to their S / O asking them to join them in the shower for the first time???

OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, oooookkkk, I can see what you did there dear anon.

In my great humble imagination, I'd like to take a dip in the huge bathtub that Kalim surely has in Scarabia. Let me dream, I like to relax in big bathtubs with foam, bubbles, music and incense. Before we begin, I warn you that all characters are +18.

Let’s goooooooooooooo

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

Riddle

Oh dear, you don't know what you just did.

It was a decent proposal to be honest, you just wanted to spend a quality moment with our Queen, but I think the smoke got into his head.

"Riddle, I'm going to take a shower, would you like to join me?"

Puff red as a tomato and about to explode.

You stared at him in disbelief, until you realized your words. Maybe Riddle wasn't ready for that big step.

You entered the bathroom alone, but not before asking for forgiveness.

Now you left Riddle alone with his thoughts, that's much worse.

Your intention was to take a short shower, but with the event that had just occurred, you were eating your head as the water ran down your body.

The longer it took you to get out, the more your anxiety ate you up inside. You would have panicked if you hadn't heard the door open and close almost inaudibly.

Riddle stepped into the shower, standing behind you and circling your waist.

"Please don't turn around, it's still too embarrassing for me, but I can't help but feel calm right now"

Neither of you spoke or moved the rest of the time you stayed in the shower, even forgetting to wash properly. But that 'mistake' was the beginning of multiple long shared showers.

Leona

The lazy lion here wasn’t in his plans to get into the water, much less shower. If you had asked getting into the lounge’s pool, maybe he would have considered it.

He just lay on his bed, about to fall asleep, not caring about your figure in the middle of the room. He didn't care that you were getting irritated every second.

"I don't have the need to bathe, go alone"

He heard you leave and thought he was going to sleep peacefully before you get out of the shower… until an impact on his head dislodged him.

You had thrown dirt all over his hair, spreading over his chest and the bed.

“Now you have a reason to shower. You're dirty"

I recommend you to run to the shower, because the look Leona gave you… I highly doubt that you will make it out alive.

Arriving at the threshold, Leona grabbed you by the legs, placing you on his shoulder and getting under the faucet.

This fucker turned on the shower without letting you remove your clothes first, ending up drenched.

"Ah, my mistake, I think you're a little wet. Let me take off your clothes"

The malicious smirk on his face didn’t give you confidence, and didn’t disappear even when you were both naked under the water.

“You have courage to fill me and my bed with dirt, did you want to take a shower? Now you are going to clean me"

Ah… worth it?

Azul

Did he hear you well? Do you want to take a shower with him?

Oh dear sea witch, help him, he is about to have a neurism.

Azul wasn’t against your proposal itself, he was very concerned about his physique.

And what if you don't like what you see? would you are disappointed? And if it disgusts you to look at him naked or semi naked?

Thousands of questions ran through his head, making it impossible for him to give you an answer. If you looked closely, you might even see smoke coming out of his ears from the gears in his head moving; even tears were threatening to leak out of his eyes.

You placed your hands on both sides of his face, "Come with me"

You guided him into the bathroom, placing him under the shower head. You let go of your octopus and turned on the hot water before he could say anything.

Both were burned by the touch of the hot water, even Azul wanted to get out of there, but you stopped him by wrapping your arms around him.

The warmth of your arms on his torso made his heart skip a beat. He never thought he was going to be able to have this kind of intimacy with you, and I'm not talking about nudity.

It was literally like being in the rain in the middle of the courtyard, but in solitude inside Azul's room ... rather in his bathroom ... with clothes that were beginning to cling to the body.

"Do you feel better? Do you think you're ready to take off your clothes and really give us a hot shower?"

Azul never said a yes so fast in his life.

Kalim

A shower? A simple shower? What is that? Kalim only knows how to take big baths in tubs that could be the size of a house.

Either way he said yes, don’t be alarmed.

Wasting no time, he led you to the bathroom in his room, which you could swear was the same dimensions as the bedroom, apart from being very resplendent.

Kalim was very respectful at all times, he gave you your time to undress, he wasn’t invasive and he turned around when you asked him and thus enter the water.

Our sun here took the trouble to decorate the bathtub when you weren't looking, now the whole place was decorated with incense and scented candles from the Land of Hot Sands.

Even if you walked carefully, you might come across a few gold coins on the marble floor of the tub.

All very beautiful, but I think I would be very overwhelmed with such extravagance. And that is also your case, it’s better to tell Kalim directly.

Like before, don't worry, Kalim would understand your feelings a 1000% and if closing your eyes for the entire bath time makes you feel better, then Kalim would be willing to snuggle you on his chest and wash your head himself.

He ’s a gentleman, what can I say.

But, if you feel comfortable with all that, then I advise you to start a bubble war. Who said bathing with your partner has to be serious?

"Take care of your bubble ammunition, you wouldn't want to be left with nothing and for me to tickle you"

You made a mess in the whole bathroom, be careful when you leave, there is soap and water everywhere.

Vil

Oh no no no, dear, no dear.

One does not shower with Vil, one BATHES with Vil.

Like Kalim, Vil takes his bath quite seriously. He needs to follow his skin routine very meticulously and for that he needs oils, essences and… other things that my poor ass couldn't buy all the time, even if I wanted to.

His bathtub is not as gigantic as Kalim's, but it is much larger than average.

If for any reason you are embarrassed to bathe naked, don't panic. Vil has exclusively for you a bathrobe that you can use in the water, and one for him too obviously.

Prepare for a full-body massage session. The oils are not for decoration, they are to soften the skin and Vil would give the best massages of your life, you cannot argue with me

By the way, you also wash your hair with an equally expensive shampoo. There is no middle ground here: either you take a simple shower in your bedroom, or you go big with Vil.

That reminds me, the moment you take the first bath with this Queen of beauty, you have just signed a contract (not one of Azul's) in which it stipulates that from now on, every day you will bathe with it, end of discussion.

Vil may at first have been a bit ecstatic to the idea of you giving him massages with his special oil and washing his hair; he has a very meticulous routine that he adheres to to the letter and your inexperienced fingers would not do enough magic.

Buuut, nothing like a good class in the middle of the bathtub to give good results.

In summary, taking a bath with Vil is like having a full day at the Spa, completely free ... well, almost free 😉

Idia

Idia.exe stopped working.

Jokes aside, Idia stopped reacting for a few seconds, he didn't even remember to breathe.

I can't tell if Idia is one of that kind of weeb that doesn't bathe, I want to believe that he does, please make me believe that he does, I implore you

Taking a shower with Idia can be a bit… embarrassing, mostly on his part. He isn’t used to so much human contact and that you ask him for such a proposal, is to get out of his comfort zone.

Nor could I tell if, when in contact with water, Idia's hair would evaporate, like the scene in Hercules blowing Hades’s head XD.

If so, it would be a lot of fun to watch, but you would have to reassure him because he would surely be much more embarrassed.

If that's not the case, maybe he would be around as long as the intimacy last with red hair, someone at some point mentioned Idia with red hair and now I can't help but imagine it

Many caresses from your part, hugging his torso from behind. Like Riddle, he would surely not be prepared to look at you for the first time or for you to see him.

Trie to calm the waters by asking him about his new inventions.

Also avoids telling Ortho all this bamboleo. He is too pure for this type of situation, let's not fill his head with indecent images of his brother.

Malleus

What a peculiar proposal, but it will be honored without a doubt.

He may have asked Lilia for instructions to abide by your proposal as well as possible… and Big Bear Mama Lilia may have asked him thousands of questions about it, perhaps embarrassing him a bit, but we will never know.

I have a slight suspicion that Malleus has a very rococo-style bathroom, in dark colors, but not necessarily black and green, do you understand?

Did you know those old tubs, from the Marie Antoinette years? Well, Malleus has one. He also has a shower, but to be honest, I see Malleus as a passionate lover, so the shower wouldn’t be in the game.

But, if you feel uncomfortable with the bathtub because it seems too much or you can’t step in (because, let's face it, hardly a person enters in that marble piece of furniture) then Malleus has no problem using the shower.

Whatever your decision is, the moment will be magical, and I mean it very seriously.

Our dragon daddy here would invoke any kind of magic to make the evening more enjoyable, like the little lights that fly around when Malleus is about to appear or disappear.

I recommend you don’t go around telling your intentions of take a shower with Malleus, we know that a certain lemon green hair is hanging around the corridors and he wouldn’t hesitate to listen to a conversation that has his young master as it’s center.

An uncomfortable moment if Sebek enter the bathroom screaming as always, demanding an explanation as to why a simple human is bathing with his young master.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar #leona x reader #azul ashengrotto #azul x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #vil schoenheit #vil x reader #idia shroud #idia x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

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apocalypticgargoyle · 3 years

Text

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙆 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

edit by 🐓 anon. im still screaming over this.

∘ request: [insert the 14 asking for more Sapnap humor in a pt. 1.5 of Meet the Jacobses]

∘ pairings: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: smut (18+), nsfw, language, drinking, mentions of Todd the frat boy, lots of dialogue, biting, asphyxiation

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ a/n: this one goes out to the babes in the gc. ily.

i stole the Brick idea from the Jesse McCartney movie, Keith. I'm sorry. [tw for that link - sad & jesse mccartney not talking about beautiful souls]

also thank you everyone for your support on this series. when my friends and I conjured this up, I never thought I would be at the point where I get to share peoples art/paylists/etc. I'm so thankful for all of you.

okay I'll stop crying. happy reading and have a great week! :)

The sun beat down against your skin, your mind drifting to whether or not you should apply more sunscreen. Karl jumped into the light blue water in front of you, the water splashing out to almost completely soak you. You frowned at him as he came up for air, blowing you a kiss mockingly.

Sapnap’s cousins started tackling Karl, the chorus of laughter echoing around the pool. You stretched your legs out beneath the table, leaning into the shade of the umbrella as you watched them roughhouse.

Sapnap came out from the pool house, opening a beer bottle for you before taking the seat beside you. He sighed, buttoning the top of his shirt as he watched the boys. “Did you have a good time at the party yesterday? I dipped after an hour,” he asked, pushing his sunglasses to rest on top of his head.

You shrugged slightly, taking a sip of your drink. You couldn’t wait to tell your roommate how lavishly you’d been living. The fact that you were lounging by a heated pool, drinking beer from Copenhagen with the sons of millionaires was nearly mind-boggling to you.

You wet your lips, squinting your eyes as you looked at him. “I honestly have no idea. I was kind of just there as a Karl accessory,” you joked, making him chuckle softly.

“Yeah, I get that,” he flipped off one of the cousins as they threatened to throw water at him. “It’s always the Karl show around here,” he added. You raised your eyebrows at him and he backtracked. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. He’s a good guy; everyone’s just obsessed with him.”

You nodded slightly. “Yeah, he’s definitely the star baby,” you joked, making him laugh. “I need to ask you…” You bit your lip voice trailing off as you searched for the night words.

He sent you a closed-mouth smile. “About my mom and Karl?” He asked, biting back a blithe expression. It shocked you how calm he was about the situation.

You chuckled nervously. “I swear I won’t bring it up again, I’m just,” you cut yourself off, unable to describe the question marks pulsing through your thoughts.

He snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “I know right,” he reassured. “When I found out, I almost broke Karl’s nose,” he chided. “Not that I was like… angry it was my mom but out of how weird it was.”

“Yeah it is really fucking weird,” you agreed, laughing slightly.

He gestured as if to thank you for understanding. “I mean, Karl’s a great guy. He was my best friend for a long time but…” He made a face suggesting his discomfort and you snicked. “That’s my mom, man.” You giggled wholeheartedly at this, making him laugh too.

“What are you guys talking about?” Karl asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, dripping wet from his pool time adventures.

“Speak of the Devil and he shall appear,” you joked, making Sapnap wink at you. “Tacitus’ Annals,” you answered, making Sapnap nod at you.

He chewed on his lip, with a calm expression as he supported your lie. “I was telling your girlfriend how much I enjoyed his love of Nero,” he continued, you bit back a smile.

Karl ruffled his hair out in a towel. “Come on now,” he grumbled, calling the two of you on your bullshit.

Sapnap squinted as he looked up at him. “Karl supremacy. As always,” he answered with a touch of quiet sarcasm, making Karl roll his eyes playfully as he took to the other seat beside you.

Karl ran his fingers into his hair. “You wanna get matching tattoos together, Sapnap?” He quipped; Sapnap sending him a smug expression.

“Why? What were you thinking?” He asked, knowing he was walking into whatever Karl was setting up.

Karl pulled the leg of his swim trunks off his leg a bit, furrowing his brows. “I wanna get your mom’s name on the top of my thigh,” he teased, biting his lip. You rolled your eyes playfully.

Sapnap let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh my God, that’s so funny. I totally didn’t see that coming.”

Karl took a sip of your beer and you spoke up. “I think you’d look good with a tattoo, Sapnap. All jokes aside, you’ve got a great body,” you mused, sending him a wink. Sapnap bit back a smile looking at Karl, who you could already tell was glaring back at him. “Side note, I was meaning to ask you. There’s a guy that’s in Karl’s frat,” you paused, trying to remember what Karl had said Todd’s real name was when you were pinning his auction number on him.

Sapnap raised his eyebrows. “Oh, Mark?”

You pointed at him. “Yes, the fake Romney.”

Sapnap snorted. “He did that on campus too?” Karl nodded, a look of disappointment spreading across their faces.

“Speaking of Todd Mark, the king of the Brick” Karl kicked his feet beneath your chair before continuing, “I heard there’s a bonfire tonight,” he probed, making Sapnap slowly shake his head in disapproval.

You raised an eyebrow at the two. “What’s the Brick?”

Sapnap seemed to have already made up his mind on the situation. “A fucking cesspool,” Sapnap grumbled, sipping from his bottle as Karl tsked. Sapnap tilted his head. “You really wanna take her to the Brick? People get together and smoke crack over there. The fact that,” he paused to furrow his brows at you slightly, “Todd Mark? is the benefactor should say something,” he stated, lips curling into an uneasy expression.

You peered over your shoulder at Karl as if to ask if he were crazy. Karl swatted off your gesture. “They don’t smoke crack this time of year. All the locals are back visiting for break.”

Sapnap shook his head again in unease. You chewed your lip, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t know… Sapnap, do you wanna have a movie night instead?” You joked, making Karl sigh behind you.

Sapnap mimicked your mock severity. “Yeah, a stay in and cuddle?”

“Of course,” you repeated.

Karl wheezed. “No, we’re going.”

Without missing a beat, Sapnap chimed back. “Maybe you can take my mom instead?” Karl’s expression flattened at his words and you nodded, high fiving Sapnap in mock victory.

Despite Sapnap’s hesitation, you all went to what they referred to as The Brick. In reality, it was a spot on the edge of a lake. They only called it the Brick because of Todd’s dad, a racecar driver who claimed the post back when he was in high school and later bought it. A large bonfire burned in the center of the space, various people around your age and a bit younger were either dancing to the music coming from one of the souped-up sports cars or shotgunning beers. You pushed away the thought of your stingy fire marshall back home who―more than once―had reported you and your family for “overactive cookouts.”

“Overactive,” meaning your dad and Clay were failing at not catching hotdogs on fire when the two would get lost in a chat about a mutual videogame when the families would cross the fence line in the summer.

As soon as you had stepped foot on the gravel, Karl was welcomed back like some kind of celebrity, so you stayed close to Sapnap. He would lean towards your height, pointing people out that Karl had mentioned in the past or those worth noting. You nodded along, soaking in what he had to tell you and laughing at his jokes.

A random guy strolled past the two of you, making Sapnap purse his lips. “Hey, Sapnap. How’s your mom?” One of the countless jokes thrown at him since you’d arrived.

He tilted his head with a mock look of questioning. “Didn’t your parents just get divorced, Jeff?” He deflected. Jeff’s face dropped slightly as he moved on. You always found yourself struggling not to laugh at how well Sapnap was at counteracting the jabs at his mom and Karl. Most of you felt guilty for how long he had dealt with it.

Karl watched you carefully as you sat down beside Sapnap on one of the vast benches; hands shoved in his pockets as the group around him caught up. You were glad to have someone around like Sapnap, despite the fact that you often went to parties. In the past, it was more of a bi-annual thing, but since being with Karl, you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with nameless people in a line doing shots every other Thursday.

You laughed as Sapnap joked about avoiding the drinks at the Brick because of the mites in the water and the STDs in the beer. “So, I never asked how you met Karl?” He queried, sticking his hands into the pocket of his Baja hoodie.

You smiled slightly. “Uh…” Shameless thoughts of you on your knees in a random building when you barely knew his name paced through your head like a quickfire of serotonin. “We had a lecture together and he liked my handwriting.” Sapnap smirked, chuckling slightly at your words.

Karl’s eyes were trained on the two of you, demeanor shifting each time one of you leaned towards the other to hear over the music or the two of you bumping each other’s arms to grab your attention. You knew he wasn’t jealous, but his look of curiosity was almost hilarious to you. Sapnap stuck by your side while Karl introduced you to his friends. He was basically your encyclopedia on the newer people as Karl would go off on a tangent with them.

The fact that Karl was so close to all of them and was so popular made your heart swell with pride. You were used to Karl’s deadpanned glares at most of his frat brothers and his snide comments, but now he was welcomed back like he was some kind of hero returning from the war.

After saying goodbye to Sapnap for the day, you threaded your fingers with Karl’s, enjoying the time where it was just the two of you. He brought the back of your hand to his lips, smoothing a kiss against your skin. “So… Sapnap’s mom…” you began, making him chew the inside of his cheek. “Where… did it happen?”

He looked down at you with a perked eyebrow before raising his sights forward, pulling you off the street where the two of you were walking. You followed him as the pair of you snuck through between the houses and across the backyards until the two of you were at Sapnap’s house again. Through the front windows, you could see him talking to his sibling in the kitchen.

Karl grabbed your hand, leading you along the side of the estate and toward the pool house. You wanted to groan at the thought before he pulled you through the door with him. “Are you serious?” You hissed, looking around at the dark place. Karl fought not to smirk as he peered out through one of the windows, watching the lights in Sapnap’s house turn out.

The moonlight streamed through one of the slender windows, illuminating his face and washing his features clean. Your gaze trailed along his arms; his tattoos peeking out from beneath his hoodie as he reached up to lock the door.

He turned back to face you, walking closer to you. “Did you have fun today?” He asked, plopping down on one of the couches and pulling you into his lap. He moved your arms to rest around his neck, pressing his lips to your skin. “I feel like I didn’t see you at all. Sapnap’s a bogart,” he muttered jokingly, settling his hands on your hips.

You scoffed before leaning toward him, pressing your lips against his. “Make it up to me,” you murmured, raking your fingers into his hair. “I think I selfishly need you to ruin me here; you know. Like a cleansing of you and Ms. Scarlet,” you chided.

He bit his lip, eyes pulsing with lust as he fought not to grin. You pressed your lips against his, turning to lay back on the couch and yank him on top of you. He chuckled into your kiss, as your hands moved to curl into his hair. His lust was a taste you could get drunk off if given the chance as his hands traveled the length of your body, moaning as you ground your hips against his, gripping into his clothes.

He leaned off of you momentarily to pull his shirt over his head as you slipped out of yours, you wrapped a leg around him, pushing him onto the couch instead and pinning him between your thighs as you straddled him, running your hands up his tattooed chest and connecting your lips again.

One of his large hands covered your breast as you began to grind your hips against his. His teeth grazed against your skin as he caressed your body while you moved against him, trying to create as much friction as you could against his jeans. He ran his fingers along the hem of your underwear, his lips curling into a smirk as he moved slightly to get a better look. "These are nice. Did you plan this?" He leered, snapping the elastic against your hip playfully. You rolled your eyes, pulling his chin towards you and pressing your lips against his. Every movement of his body seemed to lick at the fire deep within you.

You smirked breathlessly as his lips settled against your collarbones. “These are my church clothes. I had no other motive,” you jousted. His hand reached up to rest against your collarbone, his fingers lightly curling around your neck.

“Of course, how could I not realize,” he jabbed, pressing his lips and tongue against your neck. You moaned, tugging at his zipper before wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping him into harder arousal. He groaned against your neck, bucking into your hand lightly. His head tilted back against the couch beneath you, cheeks flushed at the attention. His teeth nipped at your skin as you ground yourself against his thigh, basking in his noises of pleasure.

His cock pulsed in your hand, making him grab your wrist and pull you beneath him. He gripped one of your legs, resting it in the crook of his elbow as he pushed himself into you, connecting your lips to swallow your moans. The feeling of him inside of you sent a wave of pleasure through your body. His voice was low in your ear, murmuring your name as if it were a curse. You moaned as he took one of your hands, lacing your fingers together beside your head as he kissed you again, tongue slipping into your mouth.

His thrusts became more rhythmless, his hold on you driving him deeper as the pool house filled with the noises of your whimpering moans. Karl’s breath was warm on your neck as he took advantage of your submissive state. He moved his hand from around your leg, wrapping his fingers around your neck again. Your body shivered, waiting for the pressure of his hand as his hips rocked against yours.

He chuckled darkly, teeth grazing against your shoulder before his lips hovered beside your ear. “Beg for it,” he commented, voice strained as he thrusted into you.

You swallowed, fingers digging into his back. “Choke me,” you groaned, “please.” His hand tightened around your neck, breath hitching in your throat as his thrusts became rougher. He bit back a smug grin at the way you reacted to his antics, relishing in your body beginning for more.

He relaxed his hand, pressing his lips to yours as you struggled to inhale. Heat ran through your body as your leg curled around his waist, nails raking down his back.

You leaned away from his lips, voice coming out unevenly as you moaned his name. His movements became sloppier as you groaned in bliss, tugging the flesh of his bottom lip between your teeth. You tipped your head back slightly as you reached your climax, riding out your pleasure and sending him over the edge as he pulled you closer to him, his hands digging into your hips as he encouraged you to continue grinding against him. You exhaled deeply, pressing your lips against his neck and his cheek before kissing him breathlessly as your movements slowed.

You pulled on your shirt, Karl’s hands moving to rest on your hips as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Should we leave a note for Ms. Scarlet?” You joked, making him chuckle as his arms wrapped further around your waist, cheek pressing against your shoulder.

“Who?” He teased.

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

@mrwinemaker @madsbbg @idiotinnit @westyywifee @kiritokunuwu @theholycakehole @itgetsatadhazy @himbobimboeater @karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @twist3dtinkerbell @more-like-reyna @teenage0jealousy @deepestofwaters @honk-izzie-was-taken @froggyy06 @ghoulandghost @instabull @glowstick-cafe @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @anoaeunoia @little-gremlin-in-the-walls

#💳💥 anon #edgy!karl #edgy!karl jacobs #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs fanfic #karl jacobs imagine #karl jacobs smut #karl jacobs fanart #karl jacobs x you #karl jacobs x y/n #mcyt x you #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt smut #mcyt karl jacobs x reader

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spxllcxstxr · 4 years

Text

Always With Me • R.L

Summary: “Please don’t go.” (Bolded)

Warnings: Mentions of food/eating/not being able to eat, brief mention of vomit, Remus is very close to the full moon so he’s snippy, underage smoking, yelling, Remus is insecure and hard on himself, depressing thoughts

Word Count: ~1k

A.N: I actually wrote this like a year ago, but I’ve recently tweaked it and all that. Listened to Tiny Dancer by Elton John while thinking up the title. I guess this is my first angst post too, so I hope it’s angsty enough! Some characters may be a bit ooc though

Title: Elton John - Tiny Dancer

****

The week of the full moon takes a lot out of Remus, especially when added to the increasing amount of assignments the professors start handing out. The stress practically kills him.

He’s stuck in bed three days before the full moon, and will likely stay there until after the transformation.

Remus looks sickly, laying in his bed. His skin is pale and dotted with sweat like he’s got a fever. The numerous scars that litter his body look rougher and inflamed. His hair looks like it’s thinned overnight, and you can see strands scattered over his pillow. It’s wirey and delicate to the touch when you run your fingers through it.

“You need to eat, darling.” You mutter, trying to convince him.

The plate of plain toast and orange slices you brought up from the Kitchens sits untouched on his nightstand.

“Love, I won’t be able to hold it down.” He croaks, lighting a cigarette with trembling hands.

“Well you can’t just starve yourself for three more days, Rem.” You lecture, watching him puff out rings of smoke.

“You think I don’t fucking know that? I just don’t feel like vomiting it all up!” Remus snaps, ripping his gaze from you, deciding to focus on the ceiling instead.

The bags underneath his eyes are heavier and darker than usual.

You sigh and lay down next to him, resting your head on his chest. “I’m sorry, Rem. You know I just worry.”

The thumping of his heart is dull and every breath comes out in a labored wheeze.

“I’ll try to eat later, ok?” He murmurs eventually, still focusing on the thin wisps of smoke.

You hum in response and rub your thumb across his chest, partially trying to ease his anxiety and partially to ease yours.

“Don’t you have class?” Remus questions.

“Don’t you?” You counter.

He huffs out a faint laugh. “Don’t get smart with me, love.”

You bury your cheek deeper into his shirt.

“I’m fine missing one Arithmancy class, darling. Especially for you.” You shrug.

Remus grunts in response, snubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray beside him. The movement has his bones creaking, and his teeth grinding together in pain.

You kiss his cheek. “Try to get some sleep, alright?”

He nods, his eyes already closing due to pure exhaustion.

You stay with him until the end of the period, but you do have to go to class eventually. You write him a note and make your way to Potions.

Lily catches up to you on your way to the dungeons.

“(Y/n)!” She calls, her fiery braid flowing behind her.

You slow to a stop and let her catch up to you.

“How was Arithmancy?” You ask.

“Just some more number charts. I’ll lend you my notes.” She shrugs.

“Thank Merlin for you, Lils. You’re a life saver.”

Lily finally grabs your arm and drags you into an empty classroom. She closes the door behind you.

“Lily, what’s up—?”

“What’s up with Remus?” She cuts you off. Her green eyes search your eyes for answers.

“What‘re you talking about?” You scoff, nervously. Your fingers twitch out of habit.

“Cut the shit, (Y/n). I’ve noticed it for years now.” Lily crosses her arms in annoyance. “He’s my friend too. You think I haven’t noticed how sick he gets, especially during the full moon? And how all of you disappear in the middle of the night?”

“Lily—“

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“You’re not stupid—“

“Is he a werewolf?” She whispers harshly.

You pause and bite your lip. You could just deny it, but she’s already completely figured it out. You start wringing your hands, wishing you could take out a cigarette right there in the middle of the castle.

“It isn’t my place to say.” You finally sigh, dodging the question.

“It’s a yes or no question.” She argues.

“It’s not!” You exclaim. You then get close enough to whisper in her ear. “Ask him about it next week, yeah?”

Her green eyes are wide and staring at you when you finally pull back.

You swallow harshly, guilt pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

“Let’s drop it and get to Sluggy’s class.” You walk out of the empty classroom, and walk briskly to the potions room.

You stomp up to the boys dorm after Ancient Runes, your last class of the day. The rest of them are already in their room, James, Sirius, and Peter already back from Divination, and Remus not moving from the morning. At least the orange slices are gone. However, that doesn’t mean he kept them down.

“Lily knows.” You announce, dropping your bag at the end of Remus’ bed and taking out a cigarette.

Sirius, who already has one lit, snaps his head towards you. “Lily knows a lot of things, so you gotta be a little more specific.”

“She knows about Moony’s furry little problem.” You clarify, biting your lip.

“She what?!” Remus cries, finally sitting up against the headboard.

“I didn’t tell her, Remus. She figured it out herself and asked me about it!” You hold your hands up in surrender.

“Well shit, (Y/n). What’d you say?” Peter asks, picking at his blanket.

“I just told her to ask him about it next week.” You mutter, anxiously awaiting Remus to explode out of anger.

“Oh that’s just bloody brilliant, innit?” Your boyfriend spats at you, teeth clenched.

“Hey! Don’t yell at her, it’s not her fault!” James shouts, coming to your defense.

“Moony, she was bound to find out eventually, don’t get your knickers in a twist.” Sirius comments, picking at his black nail polish, successfully chipping the paint.

“Are you fucking serious?”

“No.” You reply, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Yes.” Sirius says at the same time, effectively provoking it.

“Lily can report me and spread this, don’t you understand?” Remus rages, the tips of his ears red.

“Lily wouldn’t do that, you know this Remus.” James tries to reason.

“I think you’re a little biased, Prongs. She was bloody friends with Snivellus! Anything could happen!”

“Well she isn’t friends with him anymore, Moons. Lily is trustworthy and a good friend. She wouldn’t tell a soul.” James argues.

Remus growls and forcefully closes the curtains around his bed, shutting you all out.

You shift awkwardly on the balls of your feet, the four of you watching the scarlet curtains sway. Remus is silent behind them.

The guilt has your stomach in knots. You can’t help but feel responsible.

“C’mon, (Y/n), it’s time for dinner and obviously Moony wants to be left alone.” James anxiously runs a hand through his already chaotic hair, slightly tugging at the dark curls.

You wordlessly nod your head and start to follow them out the door.

“W-we’ll bring something up from the Kitchens, Remus.” Peter stutters in front of you.

However, you hesitate at the threshold, reluctant to just up and leave your boyfriend in such a vulnerable state.

“Please don’t go.”

The broken words are almost too faint to actually hear.

You creep your way back to his bed, carefully pulling back the curtains revealing your boyfriend’s head buried in his hands. You notice the pronounced tremors taking over his hands.

“Hey...hey Rem, it’s all alright.” You murmur, lightly dragging a hand through his rough hair.

Dropping your head down to his, you press your foreheads together, whispering reassurances and declarations of love into his ear.

#Remus Lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #the marauders x reader #the marauders

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years

Text

hear those bells ring: chapter 3 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Bakugo wakes up with his hearing and a bunch of questions.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Sorry for the wait on ch 3, I had to work over the weekend. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Bakugo woke up confused, disoriented, and pissed off.

He bolted upright, the taste of smoke and ash still on his tongue, but when he whipped his head from side to side, there was no fire, no burning asphalt, no villain, only the empty, dark expanse of his apartment.

But something was still tugging at him, fucking incessantly, and it took him a moment to realize it was his phone alarm.

Red eyes flicked to the device on his bedside table, and even though its continuous siren was like nails on a chalkboard, Bakugo found himself unable to move, unable to stop it.

Because he could hear the alarm. Clearly. Loudly.

He hadn’t been able to hear his phone alarm in weeks, not really. It was nothing more than a muffled tone that petered out toward the end as it rose in pitch and frequency. Thankfully, Bakugo’s internal alarm got him up most days around the sun, but he’d been late to morning patrols a handful of times.

But now…

Numbly, Bakugo finally reached out and tapped his phone. His ears rang slightly in the ensuing silence, but it was barely perceptible, nothing like the perpetual buzzing he’d been living with, like a hive of bees had taken up residence in his head.

The quiet, after so long, was almost… unsettling.

And it was all because of that woman. He was sure of it.

Bakugo pressed his lips into a thin line as he thought about you, the memories of last night flooding back. The blurry image of your face, crouched over him, splattered in a thin mist of red blood and dusted with white plaster. He couldn’t remember much from right after he blasted that villain into the fucking dirt. He remembered the feel of glass breaking around him, and pain, a lot of fucking pain, but then it was black until you appeared. When he’d opened his eyes and met yours, he recalled thinking he should be in more pain, but then you spoke to him and derailed all coherent thought.

Because he’d heard you. Clear as fucking day.

That immediately drew his attention, and so did the blood all over your hands.

There was a lot of it. Way too fucking much for nicking yourself on some glass or whatever bullshit excuse you gave. And Bakugo knew it was bullshit. You weren’t a convincing liar. Well, maybe to some idiot extras you would be, but not to him. He clocked the way you stuttered, the way you fidgeted and averted your eyes. And when you looked at him… fuck, your face was so goddamn guilty.

Why, he had no idea.

But he did know one thing.

You had a healing quirk. There was no other explanation.

Even if he hadn’t just miraculously recovered the hearing that a doctor told him he would never get back, there were a lot of other little discrepancies. His left arm, for one. Bakugo remembered how it felt when the villain’s asphalt wrapped around his limb, the burning, scalding agony of it. But now, the skin was just pink and barely blistered in some places.

Then there was the blood.

When he’d gotten home after ditching the crime scene, Bakugo had immediately beelined for his bathroom to take a shower. But, when he stripped off his hoodie, he realized it was heavier than it should be right before he noticed it was dripping onto his floor. Dripping blood. Without thinking, he’d wrung the hoodie out on the bathroom floor, and a fuck ton of red liquid seeped out of it.

He had immediately dropped the jacket and started scanning his body in the bathroom mirror, but besides the shallow gash on his abdomen, the burned arm, and a few other minor scrapes and bruises, he was uninjured.

But… his back was coated in red, and so were the seat of his dark jeans and boxer briefs. It was almost like… he’d been lying in a pool of blood.

So, you had to be a healer. You just had to be.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t been able to confirm this since the cops had been circling you like vultures. He also hadn’t wanted to be bitched at by any more heroes, or the fucking media, so he made himself scarce.

But he needed to see you again. Needed to hear the truth from your own mouth.

And maybe he could coax you into a deal.

The doctor Bakugo spoke to yesterday obviously hadn’t known what the hell he was talking about. He had made it sound impossible to fix the blond’s ears, and yet you’d somehow done it easily, in the middle of a fucking battlefield.

With that kind of power, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about going deaf or designing stupid hearing aids with some company.

With that kind of power, Dynamight would become Japan’s Number One Hero in no time.

But first, he had to find you.

Resolved, Bakugo shoved the covers off and slid out of bed, but before he could make it to his bathroom, someone started knocking on his front door.

No, not knocking. Banging. It sounded like they were trying to break the fucking door down.

“Bakubroooooooo!”

“Gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Bakugo grumbled as he padded to his front door. He was only dressed in boxer briefs, but that’s what the idiot got for barging over so early in the damn morning.

The banging persisted, growing louder and more fervent.

“I’m fuckin’ comin!” the blond shouted just before he undid the deadbolt and wrenched open the door.

Eijiro Kirishima, dressed in his Red Riot costume, blinked on the other side of the threshold, his fist still raised to knock.

“What the fuck, bro?” he asked after a moment of just staring at Bakugo.

The blond immediately scowled. “That’s my fuckin’ line. What are you doing breaking down my door at six in the damn morning?”

“Excuse me?” his patrol and agency partner scoffed. “I’m obviously coming to check that you’re not dead since you’ve been MIA for over twenty-four hours.”

“What?” Bakugo frowned. “I saw you yesterday morning for patrol.”

“Noooooo,” Kirishima drawled like Bakugo was a particularly stupid child. “That was two days ago, bro. Then that night, I see you all over the damn news, and no one could get ahold of you all day yesterday. I would have come to check on you sooner, but I’ve been having to play damage control with the media because someone decided to blow up a residential neighborhood.”

“Two days?” Bakugo echoed with a furrowed brow. He’d slept that long?

“Have you been passed out this whole time, dude?” Kirishima groaned as he shouldered his way into the apartment. “I guess that means you got none of our messages?”

“Our?” the blond grumbled as he closed the door and followed the redhead to the kitchen bar.

“Yeah, Denki, Mina, Sero.” Kirishima waved his hand dismissively, marching over to the counter where Bakugo kept the fruit and selecting an apple from the wire basket. “I even asked Izuku to message you, just to see if he’d actually get a rise and response from you.”

“I don’t need stupid Deku knowing about my problems, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo growled before he stomped over to his fridge to see what he had to eat because he was suddenly starving.

“Well, that would imply I know your problems, Oh Great Lord Dynamight,” Kirishima snorted and took a bite of apple. “So, what the fuck happened the other night?”

“I blew up a residential neighborhood,” the blond deadpanned as he turned on his stove, cracking a few eggs into a skillet.

“Yeah, I saw that. I was more wondering about what led up to it.”

“What the fuck do you think led up to it?” Bakugo snapped, rummaging through his cupboard for seasonings. “I was walking home from getting a drink, and a damn villain just popped up in front of me.”

“From what I heard, there were other heroes there, too,” the redhead mumbled around another bite of apple.

“Yeah, fuckin’ useless extras,” Bakugo sneered as he started to whisk his eggs with a pair of chopsticks, throwing in some leftover white rice and a bit of nori. “They obviously weren’t getting anywhere, and the bastard was tearing up the street, so I stepped in.”

“To finish destroying the street?” Kirishima cocked an eyebrow, chewing noisily.

“Fuck off,” the blond said with an eyeroll.

Internally, though, Bakugo knew the redhead was right. He’d been sloppy, careless, probably still borderline drunk. But he’d just been so angry about the doctor’s appointment, his fucked-up ears, his bleak and silent future. He had just wanted to break something, hurt someone, consequences be damned.

Except now the consequences were catching up to him.

Fuck, he didn’t even want to think about what his citizen’s approval rating must be now.

Silence stretched between the two pro heroes for several long minutes, in which Bakugo finished making his breakfast and Kirishima finished gnawing on his apple core. The blond quickly shoveled a few bites of eggs and rice into his mouth, but his scarlet eyes kept flicking over to the redhead.

“How bad?” he finally asked.

Kirishima, to his credit, had learned how to translate Bakugo’s curt grunts years ago.

“Actually, if I’m being honest, it’s not that bad,” he sighed, tossing the apple core in the trash and scratching at the back of his head. “Could be worse. From the reports I read, most of the damage—besides the road—is superficial. Broken windows, charred and peeling paint, a few busted cars that we’re still trying to figure out if our insurance or the city’s will pay for. It also helped that you saved two people. That definitely softened the blow.”

“Two?” Bakugo mumbled around one of his last bites. “I just remember the stupid extra on the street that I shoved out of the way.”

As the memory flashed through his mind, Bakugo frowned. He’d shoved that extra out of the way and got snatched by a giant asphalt hand for his troubles. The blond’s red eyes dropped to his pink and blotchy left arm and then trailed over to his chest. He recalled the sensation of his ribs snapping under pressure, but now only a mild soreness lingered after he took a deep breath. Yet another inconsistency…

“Yeah, two,” Kirishima said and drew Bakugo out of his thoughts. “Do you seriously not even remember your own heroics? And that girl had such nice things to say about you, too.”

“Girl?” Bakugo snapped his head up. “The girl whose… apartment I fell into?”

“Crashed into, dude,” the redhead snorted, but then he narrowed his eyes as a sly smirk tugged at his lips. “But yeah. Sounds like you remember her, huh?”

Bakugo didn’t like the smug look on his friend’s face.

“I remember her fuckin’ yellin’ at me.” The blond scowled. “Like I wrecked her place on purpose and didn’t just save her whole block from a lunatic.”

“I mean, to be fair, if you crashed into my house, bro, I would have yelled at you, too.” Kirishima grinned. “But don’t worry, she’s fine. In fact, when she called the agency yesterday, she asked for you specifically.”

“She did? Why?” Did she want to confess her healing quirk? Fuck, were there side effects Bakugo didn’t know about?

“Bro, seriously.” Kirishima rolled his eyes. “You’re Japan’s Number Two Hero, and you saved her life. And, like Mina keeps telling you, you’re not as ugly when you stop scowling.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Bakugo flipped him off before he went to dump the dishes in the sink.

“Yes, dear.” The redhead smirked. “But, in all seriousness, she called to figure out how to file a claim with our insurance. Or at least that’s what she said, but she also asked how you were doing, and she actually sounded genuinely worried.”

Worried that a random side effect was going to kill him? Or worried that he would say something about her quirk? She’d obviously hidden it for a reason, tried to lie for a reason.

And Bakugo was determined to find out just what that reason was.

“Yeah, well, I’m fine,” he grunted as he rinsed off his plate and put it on the drying rack. “Just a few scrapes and bruises.”

“I can see that,” Kirishima said as he eyed the butterfly stitches stretched across the gash on Bakugo’s abdomen. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t find you dead in a pool of your own blood. That woulda been a real bummer way to start the morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bakugo muttered before he averted his eyes to the living room window across from him. “So… what did you tell her?”

“The girl?”

“No, you’re fuckin’ mom,” the blond scoffed.

“Oh, speaking of moms, you might want to text Mitsuki. I called her last night after you ignored my billionth text, so she’s probably going crazy wondering where you are.” Kirishima grinned and then immediately dodged out of the way as Bakugo hurled a fork at him.

“You bastard!” Bakugo hissed. “Now, I’m going to have to see that hag this weekend or she’s gonna fuckin’ barge over here.”

“Maybe you should turn the ringer up on your phone.” The other hero shrugged, ducking again when Bakugo chucked an apple in his direction.

The blond scowled at his friend, but he didn’t reply.

If you and your quirk were the real deal, Bakugo wouldn’t have to worry about missing a call ever again.

When Kirishima realized the projectiles had stopped, he popped his head over the back of the couch and smirked. “But to answer your previous question, I told the girl we would handle the insurance claim on our end if she sent us her info. And I didn’t really have anything to tell her about you since, like I’ve said, I thought you were dead. Kinda. I was at least thirty percent sure.”

“Have you filed the insurance claim?” Bakugo asked.

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “She hasn’t sent in the info yet.”

“Well… we should go get it from her.”

This caused the redhead’s eyebrows to shoot up into his hairline, and the surprise on his face quickly made Bakugo backtrack.

“I just… want to get this shitshow over with,” he grumbled as he averted his eyes again, but he could feel a traitorous heat crawling across the bridge of his nose. “The longer her apartment’s all fucked up, the longer the press is gonna rake me over the coals. The hero ranking’s aren’t far off, and I’m not going to lose to Deku again over some stupid broken windows.”

“Righttttt,” Kirishima drawled, but his tone was mocking. “Okay, well, I know the hotel the police have set her up at. After we swing by the agency, we can head that way… to get her insurance info.”

He still sounded unconvinced and like he wanted to needle Bakugo more, but the blond changed the subject quickly.

“Why do we have to go to the agency?” Bakugo asked, and he frowned as he glanced back at his partner. “Even if I lost yesterday, my next scheduled patrol isn’t till tonight.”

“Oh, I know.” Kirishima nodded solemnly. “But Nao wanted to have… a word with you ASAP, if I confirmed you weren’t dead.”

“Fuckkkkkkk,” Bakugo groaned as he dropped his head back. If there was anything Bakugo hated more than the press, it was his actual PR manager. That old hag was good at her job, which meant she was always up Bakugo’s ass about something, and he knew she was going to have a field day with this shitfest.

“Yeah, I’d recommend coffee and preemptive painkillers before we head in,” Kirishima said. “Plus, some putting on clothes. Maybe we can stop on the way and get her something sweet as a bribe.”

“No amount of sugar is gonna make that bitch nice to me,” Bakugo grumbled before he spun on heel and started marching to his bedroom.

“Maybe flowers then?” the redhead shouted after him.

Bakugo slammed the door in response.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“This is fuckin’ ridiculous,” Bakugo growled around his cargo, kicking his foot out at Kirishima. “Why did I listen to you? I’ve had to go shopping twice today now.”

“Come on,” his friend laughed as he dodged the blow, which made the bags in his arms crinkle. “You can’t deny the flowers and cookies sweetened ole’ Nao up.”

“To you,” Bakugo muttered, shifting the package in his arms a bit. “She still yelled at me for fifteen minutes.”

“Well, you kinda deserved i—yow!” Kirishima yelped as Bakugo kicked him squarely in the ass this time. “This isn’t helping your image, bro!”

“No one even knows it’s us,” the blond hissed.

“Yeah, I guess the hoodies and sunglasses help,” the other pro hero mused.

“And the fact that we’re carrying all this stupid shit.”

“It’s not stupid.” Kirishima frowned in that earnest way of his, which made Bakugo roll his eyes. “It’s thoughtful to bring gifts to people who are having a difficult time. Especially when you made that time difficult. You basically kicked her out of her house, dude, not to mention her shop.”

A wave of guilt actually washed through the blond, which he didn’t like. It made his throat feel tight and his stomach churn, and he glanced away from the redhead with a scowl.

“Tch.” He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we aren’t gonna pay for it.”

The excuse felt flat, even to him.

“Still,” Kirishima said as he shifted the bags in his grip, pulled out his phone, and consulted the map. “It must be stressful. So, we’re going to be nice to her, alright? Which starts with the gifts.”

“And how is a fuckin’ fruit basket supposed to help?” Bakugo asked as he glared around the overflowing mound of crinkling plastic and bright fruit that he held against his chest.

“Uh, one, it’s practical. Her apartment’s all fucked up, the power’s probably still out if not inconsistent on the street, and she’s been living in a hotel for two days, so she probably hasn’t had some nice fresh fruit in a while. And two, it looks nice!”

“We coulda just left this shit at the hotel,” Bakugo grumbled. “She has to go back there eventually, right?”

After old Nao chewed his ass out, Bakugo and Kirishima had gone to the hotel the police said they’d put you up in. Except you weren’t fucking there, and the number you left with Kirishima when you called the agency was going straight to voicemail, so here there were, fucking trekking through the city with a bunch of useless shit.

Bakugo just kept reminding himself it would be worth it when he got the truth about your quirk out of you.

“Nope,” Kirishima said and drew the blond out of his thoughts. “The city only pays the first two days after an emergency, unless the villain caused all the damage, but, uh, that’s not the case here, so we’ll be accommodating her until her apartment gets fixed up.”

“At the agency?” Bakugo asked as his red eyes clicked over to his partner.

As the Number Two and Three Heroes, the two of them had built a solid agency together. Bakugo still didn’t care for a bunch of extras riding on his tailcoats, so they had few sidekicks, all of whom reported to Kirishima and left him the fuck alone for the most part. But they owned a nice, sleek building in a nicer part of town, and one of the floors was dedicated to individual rooms with beds and other amenities. They were usually used when Bakugo, Kirishima, or the other sidekicks wanted to crash after patrol instead of going home—which Bakugo did more often than not—but they’d never had a civilian stay on the premises.

Until now.

“Yessssss, at the agency,” the redhead drawled as a shit-eating smirk crawled across his face. “So, you’ll be seeing a lot of her for the next couple weeks.”

“Wipe that stupid look off your face.” Bakugo scowled and shouldered past the other hero, who snickered as he jogged to catch up.

“Take the next left up ahead.”

“Shut up!” the blond growled, but he followed the instructions.

This was good news, though. Bakugo wouldn’t have to trek to this shitty part of town more than he had to.

And he’d have a healer just down the hall.

They marched along in silence for a few minutes, keeping their heads down, but there wasn’t much foot traffic. Bakugo was lost in his thoughts, planning out the questions he was going to ask you once he could distract Kirishima, but the redhead suddenly stopped in front of him.

“Hey,” Bakugo grunted as the fruit basket crinkled against the other hero’s back. He hadn’t even notice Kiri get in front of him again. “What’s the damn hold up?”

“Holy shit, dude,” Kirishima muttered, staring out at the road he’d just turned onto.

“What?” the blond grumbled, shoving past his friend, but then he stopped, too. “Oh… yeah.”

The street in front of him looked much worse in the bright light of midday. The road was a torn-up mess, more patches of dirt and gravel than actual asphalt. Most of the large-scale debris had been hauled away, but black scorch marks covered the sidewalks in long, dark smears. The walls of several businesses also bore charring along the facades, but most of the damage was focused in the center of the street. A crater nearly six feet deep was carved into the middle of the road, and the buildings on either side were blackened, their broken windows gaping voids.

And then there was the hole in what Bakugo remembered as your second-floor apartment. A tarp hung over the wound, but one of the corners had come undone, flapping in the wind and giving split second glimpses into the darkened room beyond.

Guilt crept up on him again, but Bakugo shoved it down, hunching over the fruit basket and nudging Kirishima.

“Come on,” he muttered before he started moving forward, and a moment later he heard the crunch of boots on gravel as the redhead followed him.

There were more people on this street than on the last several, but Bakugo could immediately tell they weren’t customers just passing through. People swept sidewalks, clearing away the last of the rubble and glass in front of their shops. Then a few old ladies stood under one awning shaking their heads, their hands laden with containers of food or gifts.

Guess Kirishima hadn’t been wrong with this stupid idea.

Then Bakugo realized some of those people were starting to look back at him, so he ducked his head further behind the fruit basket, grateful for his hoodie and sunglasses.

But then suddenly he was there, standing in front of your ruined shop. His red eyes immediately flickered upward, but if there was a sign there before, it was gone now, burnt to ash.

“What kinda shop did you say this was?” the blond asked under his breath as Kirishima paused beside him.

“I’m… not sure,” the redhead said with a furrowed brow. “I don’t think she said on the phone. No time like the present to ask, though.”

Before Bakugo could stop him, Kirishima shifted the bags in his arms, lifted one hand, and knocked on the charred metal frame of the front door.

“Hello?” he called through the broken windows, followed by your name. “Anyone in there?”

“Shit!” The squeaking voice was followed by a crashing sound somewhere in the shadows of the store.

Bakugo didn’t speak a lot of English, but he did know curse words, and the sound of it made his lips twitch in amusement.

“Are you okay?” Kirishima called out. “Can, uh, we come in?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” the voice answered back in flustered Japanese. The words were fluent, though, with barely the hint of an accent. “And, um, I-I guess you can come in, but—”

That was good enough for Bakugo.

The blond shouldered past his partner, boots crunching over glass as he ducked into the darkened shop, and Kirishima sighed as he followed.

The interior, if possible, looked worse than the outside. The room itself wasn’t very big, but it was a mess. Two metal rods had been embedded in the left and right walls at odd angles, obviously caused from the explosions, though Bakugo couldn’t tell what they used to be. Several pieces of blacked mannequins were scattered through the debris, and one wall was a charred mess of shelving and fabric, spots of color peeking through the black ash here and there.

In the back, left corner were the remains of a tri-fold standing mirror, the ones where you could see yourself from different angles. Large shards of glass were missing, though, so the image of Bakugo and Kirishima standing backlit against the street was fractured.

Last but not least, in the rear, right corner of the store was a counter that was half collapsed to the floor, behind which stood an empty doorframe that Bakugo assumed led to the back of the shop and upstairs.

And it was from behind this broken counter that you popped up with a dustpan in one hand and a tiny, handheld broom in the other.

The first thought Bakugo had was your face was rather plain… but in a somehow pleasing way. Like if his eyes had scanned over you in a crowd, something about the line of your jaw, the slope of your nose, the delicate quirk of your mouth would give him pause.

His second thought was that his first one was stupid. You were just some extra, of course you would be plain and unmemorable.

But his third thought was something about the color of your eyes was captivating, in a way that was damn fucking annoying.

“Sorry, I was just… cleaning… up,” you said, slowly trailing off as your eyes met Bakugo’s.

He saw the recognition flare in them immediately, followed by fear, and he couldn’t help the frown that twisted his face.

Why were you afraid of him?

“No, we’re sorry for barging in here like this,” Kirishima barreled on, oblivious to the stare off the other two occupants of the room were engaged in. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Oh! I’m being so rude. My name is Eijiro Kirishima, or you might know me as—”

“Red Riot,” you breathed, finally tearing your eyes from Bakugo’s, and you flashed the redhead a half-smile that trembled along the edges. “We spoke on the phone.”

“Yes.” Kirishima grinned, pointed teeth flashing in the dim light of the shop, before his gaze flickered over to the blond beside him. “And this is—”

“Dynamight,” you finished once again, and you looked like you were trying desperately to maintain eye contact with the hardening hero, but then your eyes clicked back to Bakugo. You didn’t flash him a smile. “We’ve met.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” Kiri chuckled awkwardly, and his arm jerked like he was going to rub the back of his neck, but the bags in his hands crinkled and stopped him.

“What… do you have there?” you asked, frowning at the bags and the fruit basket the heroes were carrying.

“Gifts!” the redhead declared as he hefted his arms up, and then he shuffled forward over charred fabric and glass and extended the bags to you.

You blinked at him for a second, but you set the dustpan and handheld broom on the counter, where they promptly slid to the floor since the whole surface was slanted. You winced at the loud clatter and tried to cover it up by taking the bags from Kirishima, which crinkled loudly again as they transferred hands.

Bakugo would be annoyed if he wasn’t more grateful that he could actually hear the innocuous little noise.

“O-Oh, um, you shouldn’t have, really,” you started as you peeked into the bags, and then Bakugo swore he saw your eyebrow twitch once you saw what was inside.

“It’s not much,” Kirishima said, and he was finally free to rub the back of his head and neck as his smile turned a little sheepish. “But, what with the state of your… apartment, we thought you might need some new clothes! And comfy clothes are the best after stressful days. These especially are super soft, we made sure of it. And, if you don’t like them, you could always sell them for a good chunk of change.”

The redhead winked at you, not in an overly flirty manner, that was just how he was, but your cheeks flared as crimson as his hair, and your eyes dropped to the floor.

Bakugo took the split instant to get a better look at you and noted you were wearing patched, faded jeans, solid boots, and a bleach-stained orange sweatshirt with some English writing he couldn’t read. Usually, he didn’t really see what other people wore because he couldn’t give less of a shit, but somehow he found your obvious cleaning clothes… endearing. The orange looked good on you, too.

Fuck, maybe you didn’t heal him as well as he thought. He had to be hemorrhaging into his brain to be thinking this stupid shit. Or maybe it was a side effect of your quirk?

He needed to get you alone and get answers.

“Well… thank you, this was very thoughtf—oh, wow, that is soft,” you murmured as you partially drew a sweatshirt out of the bag.

Bakugo instantly recognized the forest green and orange color scheme, and apparently so did you, because your face twitched, and you dropped the garment back into the bag and traded it for fuzzy socks with Red Riot’s signature gears stitched into them.

“These will definitely come in handy, my feet are always cold,” you said with an awkward giggle. Then you cleared your throat to cover up the sound. “Thank you, um, Red Riot.”

“You can call me Eijiro, or Kirishima, whatever you’re comfortable with,” the redhead said with another easy grin. “We’re going to be seeing a lot of each other, after all. Oh! We also got you a fruit basket, and I think there might be a few other sweets tucked in there.”

Kirishima nudged Bakugo forward, and your face rippled through a range of emotions, like your brain was taking a second to catch up to everything the pro hero just spewed. First, flustered embarrassment colored your cheeks, then confusion buckled your brow, and your eyes widened before they looked at the fruit basket Bakugo was extending at you.

“Oh, you can just put it down… um…” you trailed off as you turned to the counter and remembered it was half destroyed. Then your eyes jumped around frantically for some kind of flat surface, but the ruined shop didn’t offer any solutions.

“Told ya we shouldn’t of brought this shit,” Bakugo grunted, shooting a scowl at Kirishima.

“Yeahhhhh, we probably could have just delivered it to your room at the agency, my bad,” the redhead laughed. “But don’t worry, we’ll carry it back for you, along with any of your other things.”

“My… things?” you echoed, sounding out the words like a child, and a frown marred your face. “I-I think I must be misunderstanding you, I’m sorry, I’m American. But did you say my room at the agency? As in… your hero agency?”

“You’re American?” Kirishima asked with wide red eyes. “I wouldn’t have even guessed! Your accent is almost perfect, I thought you were maybe just from like the countryside or something.”

“I thought you said we were supposed to be nice to her,” Bakugo snorted at his partner like you weren’t in the room, and he saw you frown at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, shit, no, that wasn’t what I meant!” Japan’s Number Three Hero immediately began waving his hands in front of his face, his mouth moving twice as fast. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I really think your accent sounds nice! It’s very cute!”

Now, not only did your cheeks flush again, but the red hue traveled down your throat and across your collarbones, peeking out the stretched collar of your orange sweatshirt.

Bakugo found himself half distracted by the sight, but the other half was wondering why he suddenly felt irritation flare up in his gut.

“Okay, you don’t have to take her out on a date now,” the blond snapped, shifting his burden of fruit and plastic.

“I-I think we might have gotten off track,” you stuttered as you clutched the bag of Dynamight and Red Riot merch to your chest. “You said something about your agency.”

“Yes, right.” Kirishima cleared his throat. “We would have mentioned this in our follow up email after you sent in your insurance info, but—”

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry!” you cut him off with a grimace, and you actually dipped your head and shoulders into a bow. “I meant to send that yesterday, but my laptop is broken, and my cell service isn’t great—”

“No, no, it’s fine!” the redhead interrupted this time. “You obviously have a lot on your plate. I just meant that this might seem kind of sudden, but—”

Fucking hell, this was taking too long.

“You’re staying at our agency until we can pay for the repairs to your apartment and shop,” Bakugo said bluntly. If he didn’t step in, the two of you were just going to stammer circles around each other all day. “Starting tonight. We have rooms with beds and shit, so pack whatever clothes or crap you need.”

Your mouth fell open as you gaped at Bakugo. “I… what?”

“You deaf or something?” The words rocketed from his mouth before he could stop them, before he could even think about what he was saying, and he saw the way the question struck you like a physical blow. You flinched, your cheeks paling, and he saw dawning, guilty horror glint at the back of your eyes.

He’d been right. You did do something to his ears.

“Bro, you were just talking about being nice.” Kirishima frowned at Bakugo before he turned back to you. “Ignore him. We’re really sorry about the inconvenience this whole… incident has caused for you, but we’ll take care of everything you need until your shop’s grand reopening, so you don’t have to worry about a thing, okay?”

You continued to stare at the two heroes in shocked silence, your wide eyes clicking back and forth between the two of them as you clutched the bags to your chest like a lifeline.

“That is… all so generous,” you finally breathed, your tone rising in pitch like you were growing increasingly flustered. “It’s, um, a lot to take in.”

“Of course.” Kirishima nodded fervently. “What else can we do to help?”

“Could you leave?”

Bakugo blinked in surprise and then had to stifle his snort.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry!” you quickly followed up when you saw the redhead’s falling expression. “I didn’t mean… I just meant, could I have some time to process this? Um, alone? L-Like Dynamight said, I need to pack a few things, a-and there are some people I need to speak to before, uh… well, is it okay if I tell someone where I’ll be? Like, at your agency?”

“Yessss?” Kirishima said with a confused frown. “Why wouldn’t that be okay?”

“O-Oh, I just don’t really know how the whole hero and media thing works here,” you quickly lied, and Bakugo clocked the way you averted your eyes, the way your throat bobbed as you swallowed thickly. “I-I wasn’t going to post on social media or anything, I barely use that stuff anyway, but one of my customers, Mrs. Kojima, would be upset if I disappeared without saying anything.”

“Aww, that’s sweet.” The redhead grinned before he glanced at the shadowed ruins around him. “What kind of shop is this by the way? I don’t think you mentioned.”

“A-Alterations,” you said, ducking your face in embarrassment again. “My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited this place from them.”

“I thought you said you were American?” Kirishima asked, but not in an accusatory way. He was just too curious for his own good and didn’t possess much of a filter.

Bakugo usually didn’t care for small talk, fucking waste of time if you asked him, but he found himself focusing intently on you, awaiting a response.

“I am.” You nodded. “My parents were both born here, but they moved to the States after they married, and I was born there. After my grandparents passed, my dad was going to sell the shop, but I was looking for something… new, so I decided to move here instead about a year ago.”

Bakugo pursed his lips at this new information. If you had a healing quirk, why were you patching up clothes in some little shop all the way across the world from your surviving family? Could it be because your quirk was dangerous?

“Wow, that’s cool,” Kirishima said with an impressed expression that quickly turned sheepish. “Except about your grandparent’s passing. My condolences.”

“Thank you,” you muttered, a small smile tugging at your lips, but then you quickly shook your head. “I-I’m sorry, didn’t mean to give you my whole life story, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Red Riot laughed like he did when he was meeting shy little kids on the street, flashing his sharpened teeth jokingly and winking in an overexaggerated fashion. “I promise, we look scarier than we are.”

“Speak for yourself, Shitty Hair,” Bakugo scoffed, which made you jump, like you’d forgotten he was there.

And that rubbed him the wrong way for some reason.

Kirishima merely smirked before he partially covered his mouth with his hand and lowered his voice into a stage whisper directed at you. “All bark, no bite, I’m telling you.”

“Stop making me seem lame, you bastard!” the blond growled, but the effect was kind of ruined by the fruit basket crinkling in his hands again.

This actually seemed to startle a giggle out of you, and the two heroes whipped around, one with a grin and the other a scowl.

“See, you don’t need to be nervous,” Kirishima said before he slung an arm around Bakugo’s shoulders. “But we’ll get out of your hair for now so you can have some time to pack and everything. Don’t worry about picking up too much, though, we’ll have cleaning crews in here before we start the remodel, and we don’t want you to get hurt in here. If there’s stuff up in your apartment that you don’t want to bring with you to the agency but don’t want thrown out, make a list, and we’ll be sure to keep everything safe.”

“O-Okay,” you said, still standing there with the hero merch clenched to your chest and a dumbstruck expression on your face. “T-Thank you again, Red--, erm, Kirishima.”

“Of course!” He grinned. “I have patrol tonight, but we’ll send a car to pick you up—”

“No,” Bakugo cut in as he locked eyes with you. “I’ll pick you up. What time?”

The blond could see Kirishima shoot him a look in his peripherals—probably because they both had patrol tonight—but Bakugo ignored his partner, maintaining eye contact with you.

You, meanwhile, squirmed under the explosive hero’s intense scrutiny, your face paling and flushing in turns. “I… no, you don’t have to do that, I can take the train—”

“I insist,” he interrupted again, narrowing his eyes so you would realize he wasn’t going to back down. “Like Shitty Hair said, we caused this… inconvenience, so I’ll pick you up. What. Time?”

You swallowed thickly, your throat audibly clicking. “S-Seven?”

“I’ll be here at seven sharp,” Bakugo said. “And you better be out front or at least answer your phone this time.”

You better not run, he didn’t say, but by the look on your face, you understood.

“Seven sharp.” You nodded, biting your lip as a resigned expression settled over your features. “Got it.”

“Great. See you then.”

With that, Bakugo turned on heel and crunched his way out of your store, leaving Kirishima stuttering apologies in his wake.

But that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was, tonight, he’d finally get you alone and get to the bottom of your damn quirk.

139 notes · View notes

bakugohoex · 4 years

Note

I honestly can't remember if I asked for #7 with Zeke...but seeing the prompt and the blurb I must ask you please do fluff #7 with Zeke. 😭💗

“you, you’re fucking home to me, okay?”

pairing: zeke yeager x female reader

cw: language, fluff, kissing, slight crying

word count: 1500+

a/n: i never realised how hard it was to write for zeke, anyway thank you to the person who resent the ask, means a lot after tumblr became a dick

summary: in which after an argument with zeke regarding his excessive jealousy and protectiveness over you, he finally reveals his true motives

1k event masterlist

↞ back to attack on titan masterlist

The breath of hot ashy smoke hit the air, the stray cigarette across his two fingers as he let his hand fall to his side. He watched carefully, every movement you made speaking to Reiner and Porco with the same look of admiration you had given to him hours prior. He took another drag of his cigarette, putting it out on the balcony as he went to get you away from the two blonds.

“Y/n.” His voice was filled with power and authority, he disregarded the two boys looking at you. “With me.”

It was almost a beckoning as if you were some servant girl ready for his command and will. “I’ll see you both.” You waved goodbye to the two men following the other blond, he grasped your wrist almost dragging you away. “Zeke, woah, calm down.” His grip tightened against your wrist before pushing you into his office.

He let go of your wrist watching at how you rubbed the sore feeling, “have fun?” He questioned leaning against his desk, he eyed you up and down, the military uniform around your body, with the band around your left arm. He waited for a response as you gave a confused look.

“What are you on about now, Zeke?” You muttered crossing your arms.

He repeated, “did you have fun with them?”

“Why do you care?” You glared at his overprotectiveness; it had become a common occurrence for him to call you away whenever you were around the two other blonds, but it had become excessive.

Zeke leant against the bookshelf, staring at you as he brought out another cigarette. Bringing it to his lips and lightning it right in front of you, he took a long drag, watching as the smoke hit the rest of the room.

The first time you had met Zeke had been when the two of you were teenagers, at the tender age of 18, Zeke had already gained the beast titan and you had joined the military for other reasons. A friendship had occurred from the boy who would sneak out of meetings for a cigarette and the girl who had her breaks conveniently when meetings occurred.

“Want one?” His tender baby face had made you swoon, he was perfect in every way, to the way he spoke, to the way he held the cigarette. You shrugged, stopping and sitting beside the boy. He passed the cigarette that had been in his mouth, lightening it in yours as you took a drag, “first time?”

“Was it that obvious?” You laugh holding it between your two fingers.

He gives a chuckle, staring at you taking another drag, “I have a sixth sense, that tells me when pretty girls have been tainted.”

“So what? I wasn't trained before.” You ask.

“I guess, it means that I tainted you now.” He smirked before hearing the shout of a man calling for him. “That’s me, nice to meet you…”

“Y/n Y/l/n.” You answered his pause.

He smiled happily, having been walking backwards to still face you, “nice to meet you Y/n Y/l/n.”

“Wait? What’s your name?” You shouted as he continued to tread backwards not wanting to be shouted at anymore by a superior.

“Zeke Yeager, you better not go forgetting it, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes chuckling at how the officer began berating the boy who gave a shrug, waving a goodbye at you.

It may have been your first encounter with the boy, but over the years of meeting the other Warriors. The knowledge of Paradis and Zeke’s past, you knew it all and he had gotten protective of the girl he had known for almost a decade now. Maybe it was love out of jealousy which seemed to be the obvious reason between your friends, or maybe he just didn't want anybody stealing you away. You didn’t know and didn’t care, waiting for his reply from your question after another overprotective action.

“They aren’t good for you.”

“Bullshit Zeke, tell me why you act like this now?” You tried to have authority, tried to bring about the same power he brought out, but at the sound of your dominance he laughed.

“Come on, doll, you’re gonna have to try harder to get it out of me, than that.” He took another long drag watching your lip twitch in anger. The feeling of riling you up intoxicated him, how could he not fall in love with that look of anger.

“Don’t be an ass.” You remarked back, walking up to the man and taking the cigarette from his mouth. Taking a long drag yourself as you blow the smoke to the side, you could taste his saliva already around the cigarette, but as you popped it back in his mouth. You felt your anger go down a bit.

He couldn't lie and say he wasn't turned on by your actions, the way you were so close to him yet seemed so far from him. “If you’re not going to give me an answer, I promised Reiner I’d help him with something.”

Just as you were about to leave the room, he grabbed your wrist once more, his grip soft and loose. If you tried, you’d be able to easily get out of it, but you stood faced away from him. Waiting for his next action, “you’re so fucking dense.”

“Me? Dense?” You repeated, “maybe if you didn’t try to hide your feelings through stupid remarks and commands, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Zeke was taken aback by how easily you countered in, but he wasn’t letting himself lose to you, “I don’t fucking do that, you’re just stupid.”

“You do realise everybody knows that you’re a jealous prick, that every time you call me it's when I'm around another guy, way to be a subtle asshole.” He had let go of your wrist as you seethed at him in anger.

“I don’t get jealous, who have I got to be jealous of? It's not like every time I see you with a guy, I think you’re going to leave me, you mean nothing to me.” He shouted back, taking another long drag of his cigarette.

You contemplated his words, thinking of what he had just said, “I mean nothing to you?”

Zeke acknowledged his words, staring at you, your lip quivering at his words. “Y/n, wait, I didn’t…” Before he could continue you faced him with a look of sadness.

“If I mean nothing to you, leave me alone.” You were about to leave again; this time Zeke had finally given up on hiding his feelings for you. How could he not love you; how could he not care for someone like you.

In an instant he pushed the door back, his arms on your sides as you faced him. Tears welling up, he moved his thumb to caress your cheek, wiping away your tears, “I’m sorry, I do care about you.”

You don’t speak, not bothering to face him, his ashy breath hits your cheek, waiting for him to continue, “I shouldn’t have said that I like you, I love you even, in all these years, it’s always been you.”

He moves your face to meet his own, his face only a mere inch from you. He had confessed his love so easily, but your silence and lack of tears gave mixed signals. “Me?” Was all you could stifle out.

“You, you’re fucking home to me, okay?” He whispered his mouth lingering just across your own.

“Okay.” You answered, feeling his other hand lean against the door whilst the one caressing your cheek moved to cup your face allowing your lips to touch.

His lips meshed between your own, ask still lingering between both your mouths, you didn't care though. His soft grip on your cheek contrasted the kiss, the sloppy tongue actions, your hands in his blonde hair, the feeling of his beard rub against your skin as he kept on kissing you. He pushed you up against the wall, the gap between your bodies becoming non-existent. His tongue lingered in your mouth as you both went to part, biting your bottom lip to hear your soft moans again. He never expected to have confessed so easily to you and have you in this position.

His body almost crushing you onto the wall, your legs in between his own. He stared at you with his piercing grey eyes meeting your own, it pooled with love and comfort. “I love you too Zeke.”

He gave a soft kiss to your forehead, staying in the position for a while. Waiting for you both to catch your breath and acknowledge that you two could have something with his remaining years.

You saw the clock to the side, a worry erupting from your face, “fuck, I have a meeting with Porco.”

Zeke remained encasing you, disregarding your words, “I think you’ve forgotten who you belong to, doll.”

“Maybe you should tell me again.” You flirted back as you both went in for another kiss.

It had been much softer, with Zeke’s hand moving to your side, holding you in place as he almost smiled through the kiss. “All mine.” He spoke through it giving you another soft kiss afterwards, you were finally all his.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp @alainarose13 @crispychannie @underratedmage @jennammaee @cathy8taffy @sugacious @moonlightaangel @kat-sukis-hoe @effmigentlywithachainsaw @swankiifiied @maat-the-prescriptive @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world @chrrylevi @katsuhera @answer-the-sirens @animexholic @wapbenders @the-shota-king-masayuki @bakugousmrs @crystal-lilac @dai-tsukki-desu @fandomsinthegalaxies @crimsonbows-and-arrows @admin-in-residence @otterlockholmes @gabrann

#zeke yeager #zeke yeager x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyoujin #shingeki no kyoujin x reader #bakugohoex 1k event #aot zeke #aot zeke yeager #aot #bakugohoex #attack on titan zeke #zeke yeager oneshots #zeke fluff #zeke yeager fluff

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op-imaginesandmore · 3 years

Note

How would Issho/Fujitora, Doflamingo, Smoker, Arlong, and Gin react to their s/o dying in their arms? (human s/o for all of them including Arlong) Sorry there are so many the posts you've made so far I've enjoyed immensely. I love your style of writing! (:

I know it’s been *checks notes* actual years since I have touched this blog, but I kinda wanted to try my hand at a few of the asks I have in my inbox. I’m going to do just Smoker, and with each of the asks with multiple characters I will pick the one I am most comfortable with writing and go from there. I hope you like it! And also, to anyone who reads this and likes it, thank you! But my ask box will remain closed until…idk, probably a long time. I don’t want to get any one’s hopes about about anything.

Pairing: Smoker x GN!reader

Warnings: Angst, character death (you asked for it), mild descriptions of injury, mentions of blood, implied smut (mildest of spice), unbeta’d if that is a warning

***

The OP was supposed to be a simple one. Get in, do reconnaissance, stay under the radar, come back with what info they needed on the pirate crew, get out.

No one thought Big Mom herself was going to recognize Y/N, because you were good at your job. You had been spying for the government for years, you’d worked with Smoker as one of his subordinates, had infiltrated countless pirate crews, revolutionary bases, treasonous scum that thought they could get away with anything, and had always succeeded in your job.

Lay low, go unnoticed, get the info, come back to him. It was a perfectly organized system that was like clock work, each gear turning for the purpose of civilian protection, and justice.

Until now.

Blood soaked the beach he was kneeling on, who’s it was, he had no idea. Could be his, was probably the pirates’ that were scattered around the Vice-Admiral like debris after a storm, but what infuriated him most was it was most definitely yours.

Wheezes, broken and wet, escaped from your lips, swollen eyes looking up into stoic grey that was like looking into twin hurricanes. Anger, righteous and intense, swirled around with frustration, concern, grief, and an emotion you knew from your quiet moments between soft sheets and the hard planes of his body.

So gentle you barely felt it, he lifted you from the sand like something precious, your blood dripping down his arms and pooling beneath your broken body. Your eyes, swollen and bruised, squinted up at him and a soft smile cracked painfully across your lips.

“Hey handsome” you rasped, a cough that was soaked with blood spurting out. Smoker put a large hand through your matted hair, jaw clenching as he tightened his hold on you.

“I’m gonna get you to the ship’s infirmary” he seethed through his teeth, the usual multiple cigars he kept there like pacifiers long gone. He made to get up, but the cry that came from your lips was shrill and heartbreaking. He immediately stopped, holding you to his chest in a hold soft enough for a newborn.

“I know it hurts, but you need-“

“Do you remember Alabasta?”

Smoker stopped, looking down at your broken body that had the audacity to be giving him the smile that always managed to make his heart flutter in his chest like a crushing school girl’s. He swallowed thickly, not trusting his voice and opting for a nod.

“You were such a baby about Strawhat, I thought you were going to implode when he had his crew mate save your life.” You reached a trembling hand to his face, stroking the rough stubble of his jaw. Almost involuntarily, Smoker leaned into the soft touch, turning his head to kiss your palm as memories of their time on the desert island came to mind.

It had been the first time you had ever yelled at him, calling him reckless and blind. Telling him you were thankful for Strawhat, grateful he had saved his “stupid, sorry, ass” so you had the chance to give him a piece of your mind. He had retaliated with a practiced speech about being your superior, about how you should worry more about your job than what he was doing, how you shouldn’t talk to him like that.

Then you had the nerve to yell at him that you didn’t have a choice but to worry about him. When he yelled at you back about the why, instead of answering him you kissed him square on the mouth.

Their first kiss was in the moment, it was all teeth clacking and sudden and Smoker had been blindsided, but also hadn’t been. The two of you had been flirting with the line between officer and government agent for months at that point, subtle glances and bold, shameless flirting on your part had morphed into soft and subtle touches and hours of listening to you talk about everything and anything.

When the shock of it had worn off a second after you started kissing him, he hadn’t expected for himself to kiss you back. He had adjusted your chin, softened the kiss, and wrapped his arms possessively around your waist and lifted you, your legs wrapping around his own waist in a way that sent chills down his spine as he carried you to his desk. He set you down upon it, gentle as can be, but your legs stayed around his waist, his hips grinding into yours in a way that had him growling. Your lips had been like soft, plush, velvet on his own chapped ones, tongue sinful in its exploration, running against his to beg for entrance.

The two of you broke apart, you were panting, your face flush as you put your head on his chest and listened to the quick thumping of his heart. He smelled like a cigar, a hint of sweet fruit in a haze of earth and smoke that always managed to make your head spin. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you licked the taste of him from them.

“I worry about you because I care about you Smoker” you looked up at him, your eyes twinkling in the soft glow of the sunlight coming in through the porthole of his cabin “probably more than what’s appropriate for a working relationship, but I don’t want to hide it anymore.” You put your hand on his face, stroking the apple of his cheek in a way no one had ever dared touch him before “if you don’t want this though, we can stop right now and never talk about it a-“

Smoker was kissing you again, softer but with a passion that turned your whole body into jelly that molded into his. It was brief, too brief for your liking but he was looking at you with a smoldering gaze that promised more.

“We do this, we tell no one.” He said with conviction “I can’t have my subordinates thinking I have favorites, and fraternizing could get me and you in a lot of trouble.”

You nodded, understanding alighted in your eyes as you coyly bit your kiss swollen bottom lip.

“If that means I get to see your smoke powers at work in the bedroom, I’ll take an oath of silence”

He felt his body react, his hardened length against your thigh making you squeeze your legs together, bringing him impossibly closer.

Smoker’s chest tightened at the memory.

“I’m glad” you said, swollen gaze growing distant “that it all happened the way it did. The last year and a half has been the best of my life” another cough, violent and cracking in its intensity that it had you whimpering into Smokers chest, and his eyes were burning with the tears that were inevitable now.

“Y/N-“ Smoker started, the deep rumble of his voice cracking “baby, you’re gonna be fine, let’s just-“ he took a breath, steeling himself to try and lift you up again, but your head falling limp against his chest stopped him, made the breath leave his lungs and, for the first time in a very long time, Smoker felt true terror grip his careful self control.

“Y/N?” His voice, so unlike the commanding bass it usually was, soft and broken as the body he held “Y/N? Sweetheart c’mon, wake up” he shook you, your head lolling to one side and then the next awkwardly, before it rested back on his chest and Smoker realized your uneven breathing had stopped, the rasping, painful breaths gone quiet and the only sounds to be heard on the bloodied beach were Smoker’s own uneven hyperventilating “Y/N please! You-you can’t do this! Baby, c’mon-open those pretty eyes, please! Y/N? Y/N!”

He held on tight to your body as he slowly broke down, the tears running rivers down his face that had smudges of your blood on it from holding your body up to it, his face buried into your hair as if he could revive you if he held on a little tighter, begged a little harder to whatever god or devil would listen. His cries broke through the silence, their only companion the lapping of water against the sand and gore. He rocked back and forth, clinging to your lifeless body like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth.

That was how Tashigi found her Vice-Admiral, sobbing into your hair as he begged you to wake up. Her heart shattered into a million pieces, but she had to keep him moving, had to remind him of the duty he still held.

“Vice-Admiral Smoker?” She breathed, caution in her tone, heartbreak threatening to pull her under when his breath caught. He looked up at Tashigi with a tsunami of emotions that she had never seen him display. Heartbreak and grief worked in tandem to make the ever stoic and statuesque officer crumble to his knees.

“I’ve gathered the survivors of our platoon, we’re awaiting your orders, sir”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to stretch for an eternity, Smoker looking down at his dead lover, the emotions that had been raging across his face draining from his being, and was replaced once again with the careful stoicism that his position required of him.

He got up slowly, you still cradled against his chest as he looked out at the horizon. It was another long moment before he spoke.

“We bury our dead, then we take the fight to the one who started this.” There was a fury in his words that struck fear into Tashigi, a fear for how reckless her Vice-Admiral was about to be against a Yonko.

“But Smo-“

“Did I fucking stutter?” He whipped his head around, the grey of his eyes burning with an unbridled rage that seemed barely contained “I’m not gonna rest until every last piece of filth that carries the name of Charlotte are wiped from every ocean from the East Blue to Raftel.” He glanced down at the body in his arms, a soft, broken look before the rage hit again.

“They’re gonna pay for what they’ve taken, I’ll make sure of it personally.”

#smoker #one piece #Smoker x reader #Smoker One Piece #angst #crying #character death #tashigi

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waatermelon-sugaar · 3 years

Text

Bliss

Pairing = FO! Poe x reader

Words = 6k (don’t look at me)

Summary = You watch your husband throw a knife, sparking 18+ thots

Warnings = SMUT (18+ only!) KNIFE PLAY, reader masturbation, fingering (f receiving), violence, like one non-graphic sentence of imaginary blood, but no actual blood (PLEASE message me if you wanna know more before reading and I’ll answer any questions you might have :) )

A/N 1 = This is basically pure smut and I’m sorry, it’s all from that training video

A/N 2 = You and Poe are married in the fic, and love each other. There is also discussion of the scene involving the knife. In real life, this discussion should be much longer, and less one-sided, going through details with much more depth. If you ever try knife play in real life, please never use the knife during actual sex in case of injury. You should also always have a first aid kit, and certain places of the body (the neck, inner wrists, groin area) should never come into contact with a sharp knife because of the high risk of lethal injury. In this fic they do it because it’s fiction. Please always do your research and make sure your partner does too, make sure you keep communicating and also that you trust the person you’re with.

If you have any questions about the content of this fic before you read, send me a message, if you have questions about knife play, send me a message, I’ll be more than happy to talk about it!! (Actually I’ll talk about anything to anyone if you ever want to chat! ☺️)

Also PLEASE let me know if I missed any warnings!!

Posted to AO3

Masterlist

***

“What do you think … Captain?”

You pause for effect before pulling out Poe’s rank. It’s a little too tough and impersonal for your tastes, usually preferring the purr, the rough and ready of ‘Sir’, but you know that Poe enjoys the rare occasion when you do use it, and if it means you get what you want, you’ll call him every name under the sun. Your husband’s brown eyes darken as you pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

You’re sat on his desk, far enough back that you can swing your legs a little, hands tucked under your thighs, while Poe relaxes in his seat, looking like work, all sharp angles and dark looks. He trimmed his beard in the refresher this morning, emphasising his jaw, and that perfect, pink mouth. You can’t wait to get him home so he can relax properly. He works far too hard for a thankless job in your opinion.

Anyway, in your defense, it was Poe who planted the seed of the idea in your head in the first place.

You knew Poe was proficient at fighting, and weaponry, and that his skill in a TIE fighter was unparalleled in the First Order, but you’d thought that his particular area of expertise was constrained to blasters and other long-distance weapons.

Not knives.

You were supposed to be the best at knives. After all, Poe had recruited you to work for the First Order after watching you take down some disrespectful asshole who had been twice your size in close quarters, a small hidden knife strapped in your boot being the deciding factor in your victory. All over a dispute of cheating.

It was a shame, really.

All that loss of life … for nothing. All that chaos, just breeding more chaos, and who was the real winner?

Poe had shown you how nice it felt to bring order. He’d shown you how nice a lot of things felt.

So you’d just assumed that Poe wasn’t as good with knives, and therefore wasn’t as disposed to use them. You’d never asked, merely enjoying the way his eyes lingered on you when you practiced your skills in training, and really enjoying the sex afterwards. And even after a year of marriage, it had never come up.

But last week, you and Poe had been among a larger group of officers fighting your way out of a Resistance base after blowing their central intelligence systems. You’d shot once, twice and then a third time at a particularly stubborn oncoming Rebel, finally hitting them in the stomach, causing them to double over in pain.

Stars, your new job had made you rusty. You’d have to practice using your blaster more.

You’d stood over the rebel to deliver a final shot to their face, taking them out of their misery and turned just in time to see Poe throwing his blaster to one side, smoke issuing from it, and pulling a small knife from a holster on his thigh. Your mouth dry, you’d continued to watch as, almost in slow motion, Poe had thrown the knife with deadly accuracy, the small silver flash burying itself into the Rebel’s exposed neck.

Fuck that was hot.

Why was that so hot?

The rebel had stood there with an expression of surprise, cocky bastard, blood already dribbling, a bright red stream running down their throat, but you just had eyes for Poe. You’d ignored the way the Rebel’s body slumped to the ground with a heavy finality, and moved forwards, suddenly desperate to feel Poe’s lips on yours.

Damn the Resistance, and damn the rebels.

You would kiss your husband, and you would kiss him right now.

Poe had turned, his eyes automatically sweeping for you, surprise in his eyes at first at how close you already were, but he’d allowed you to push him into the dusty wall, one of your hands looking for his and twinning your fingers together.

Your deadly hands, spun together for eternity.

Your other hand is automatically reaching for Poe’s neck, fingers grasping at his hair, pulling his lips towards yours. You can smell his sweat, the familiar scent pooling under his cologne, filling you with a sense of safety, even amongst the very-real danger the two of you are currently facing. His free hand is already gripping your hip, pulling your body towards him as if you weren’t as close as you could possibly be.

It’s moments like these that you think the two of you are made for each other. You couldn’t imagine needing to kiss anyone else in the middle of a mission, couldn’t imagine anyone else letting you do such a thing, couldn’t imagine anyone else wanting you the way Poe wants you. The way you want - no, need - him.

The way he needs you.

Even though your eyes are closed, you can still see how Poe’s fingers moved, causing the knife to fly out of his hands, even as they grip your hips, one of his legs pushing nicely between yours, canting upwards slightly towards the ache you’re already feeling.

The movement is replaying over and over again behind your eyelids, and you never want to forget it.

Poe’s mouth slots perfectly over yours, and he gasps into you when you pull on his hair slightly. He’d had it cut recently, and it’s still a touch too short for your liking, unable to properly tug unless you hold the curls on top of his head.

You take the opportunity to taste him, dipping your tongue into his mouth, and he lets you, lets you bite his tongue, as his beard tickles your skin, scratching deliciously. And then you bite his lip as you pull away, and he groans deep, hitting your body lower, warming you up.

But you don’t let yourself move against his thigh. Not now. Not yet. Not even as you move your mouth to his throat, where his salt and pepper beard gives way to tan skin, kissing him desperately. You don’t stop, even as your hands untangle, and Poe reaches for your holster, raising your blaster and letting off a shot in your ear. You keep kissing him, following the line of his beard up to his ear, nipping lightly at his lobe, ignoring the sounds of a body falling behind you.

And now he’s plastering kisses to your skin, wherever he can get his mouth, on your forehead, down your cheek, along your arm, only separating from you as he delicately kisses each of your fingers. There’s further swooping low in your belly as you look at him, kiss swollen lips, hooded eyelids, dark eyes.

And then your gaze is broken, other members of the First Order catching up to you, whooping and hollering in success. Their shouts are enough to make Poe reach for your hand again, holding it as he pulls the two of you back to his TIE fighter, back to safety and freedom.

But the image of Poe throwing a knife didn’t leave you, even after the mission, taking up most of your brain during the debrief, and even popping into your mind later that evening, before Poe joined you in bed, where you found your hands trailing fire over your body, pinching your nipples, as you imagine Poe pressing a cold knife into and around the flesh of your breasts.

You’re naked, and the room is cool, goosebumps prickling along your flesh despite that familiar heat spreading through your veins, slowly burning you up from the inside. You can feel sweat gathering despite the chill, along your hairline, your upper arms, your stomach.

Once you’d started you couldn’t stop, pressing your thighs together as you worked yourself up, fingers teasing your skin as you imagined Poe walking in, still in his uniform. He’d stop at the end of the bed and just watch you.

And then he’d lean over you, still watching you with those dark eyes, and take out that knife, just tracing it up your leg, gently pressing it into the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your pussy, and you pause, with your head tipped back on your pillow, mouth open, eyes closed, imagining the feeling.

Letting out a small whimper, you’d lowered your hand, dipping your fingers between your folds, and delicately traced around your clit, spreading the wetness that had gathered throughout the day around.

You’d settled into your familiar rhythm, slowly building the speed and pressure of your fingers on your clit, letting out little gasps when you hit the spot just right. And then your fantasy Poe opened his mouth, and you imagined him playing carelessly with the knife. “Put a finger inside yourself.”

You remember letting out a noise of agreement, not quite a word, inching your fingers further down, when your imaginary Poe clarified. “Just one, baby.”

You’d immediately lifted your head in protest, even though he wasn’t actually there, and you could have done what you had wanted to, but you’d obeyed. It’s part of the fun. You’d slid your middle finger in with little resistance, and closed your eyes in pleasure, your head falling back to your pillow.

You’d bitten your lip, muffled any quiet sounds that escaped you, imagining again and again and again how Poe would look holding that knife, ready to use it on you, carve the cold metal into your skin, not hard enough to hurt you, but enough that you can feel cool trails over hot skin.

Your single finger was slowly pumping in and out of you, and you were so wet you could hear it in the silence of your bedroom, your small gasps gradually increasing in volume. When you thought you couldn’t bear it anymore, you’d imagined Poe telling you to “Insert another one baby.”

So you had, letting out a small moan as a second finger joined the first, and gasped out Poe’s name. It was easier than when Poe did it, your fingers being smaller than his, but you could still feel a slight stretch.

You’d kept moving your fingers, gradually circled faster, ground your hips down so your clit caught on your palm, curved your fingers inside yourself. Your breaths were coming faster now, shuddering through your chest as you imagined Poe trailing the ice-cold knife up your legs, getting closer and closer to the juncture of your thighs.

Just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, you imagined locking eyes with Poe, and he opened his mouth. “Cum for me, baby.” His voice was velvet, soft, but commanding and familiar as your toes started to curl. You couldn’t hear the noises coming from your mouth anymore, only dimly aware that you were moaning, the sound drowning out the squelch between your legs.

Your orgasm was a slow builder, and you remembered the last time Poe brought you to orgasm, how he whispered filthy praises in your ear as his cock dragged slowly in and out of you, coaxing you through it then as his imaginary doppelganger does now, watching you gush and spasm over your fingers, legs shaking in pleasure.

After you’d come, you’d lain there, panting on your bed, sweat cooling your skin. Languidly, you’d raised your fingers, cleaning them off with kitten licks, the tangy taste coating your tongue and wishing Poe would come to bed, he always enjoyed watching you clean up.

Your fantasy confirming just how into the idea of playing with a knife you were, you’d stewed over the idea a little further for a couple of days, imagining how it would actually feel, sure that in real life it would be different. You’d curiously pressed the blunt side of a knife on your inner forearm one day when you were alone in the kitchen, sending furtive glances towards the partially closed door. Technically it was nothing special, technically nothing exciting, not in that way, and it was the blunt side, but it had still sent a delicious shiver through you. You could feel your heart rate increasing as you trailed the cold metal up your arm, biting your lip as heat pooled low in your belly.

You even went so far to press the sharp point into your skin, stopping short of making yourself bleed, but enough you could see a small indentation in your skin. Your little ‘exercise’ cemented the idea further into your brain, the idea of something so dangerous being used in such a vulnerable position was intoxicating.

You’d taken your time, thinking over the idea, and carefully considering. You wanted to be sure of yourself before bringing the idea to Poe. He wouldn’t judge you for changing your mind, but still, it would be a little embarrassing to change your mind. Poe was careful with your boundaries, always checking in when the two of you went a little further than normal, and you knew that this would be no different.

All this had led to you coming to Poe’s office on your break and asking what he thought. He was considering it, as you knew he would, leaning back in his chair. His eyes are raking over you already, but you give him time, even though your palms are sweating and you’re sure your heart rate is through the roof.

It’s only when he moves, fingers twitching in their grasp of the chair that you react, leaning forwards, your feet swinging slightly at the motion.

“Ok,” he nods, and before you can fling yourself at him, he holds a hand up. “But. We have to establish some rules, like what kind of knife are we going to use?”

You nod, already pulling up the bag that had been resting on the floor, slumped over and forgotten in your excitement. You rummage around for a second, trying to find-

“Here!” You hold the knife out for Poe to take, grinning at the amusement in his eyes. “It’s blunt on both sides, you’d have to apply some pretty serious pressure if you wanted to do any damage.”

The knife is - and there’s really no other word for it - pretty, with a black blade, and decorated handle. It’s small, about 15 cm long, but the metal is heavy, and one that will stay cold for a long time. It had raised a few eyebrows when you’d asked for a pretty knife with two blunt edges, but you were a Dameron, and had some sway of your own. If you told those lower than you to obtain a specific knife discreetly and with no questions asked, so it happened.

Poe takes his time examining it, admiring it from all angles, shooting you another look, this time filled with pride.

“I did my research.” You flip your hair as if it was nothing, omitting how expensive the final bill had been, and how you’d charged it to your work account.

“That’s my girl,” he praises, still looking the knife over. Then he rests it in his lap, so he can roll up one of his sleeves, talking all the while. “Now tell me what you want me to do to you.”

So you do, explaining you’d quite like to be blindfolded but not restrained, to keep your colour system as the safeword, all while Poe is pressing the blade at different angles into his forearm, testing out different pressures.

When you pause, watching him, Poe glances up at you. “Go on.” Is all he says, and you nod, swallowing.

“I’d quite like it if you pulled the knife along my legs.” Your voice is quiet, but sure. “And maybe the same with my arms.” You pause, feeling nerves rising inside you and reminding yourself that this is your husband.

“I think… pressing the blade around my breasts would be sexy.” Poe pauses as he presses the flat edge of the blade into his forearm. “Just tracing around,” you continue, slightly braver now you have piqued Poe’s interest. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat? I don’t… I don’t know when, exactly, but I think it would be hot.”

You take a second, breathing deeper and you raise your chin to meet Poe’s gaze, feeling more confident as you continue. “Maybe you could hold it against my throat when you fuck me.” Poe’s gaze is fire, burning through you as he loosely holds your knife in his hands. “Maybe you could blindfold me and tell me that you wish the knife had a sharp end so you could carve your initials into my skin, showing that I belong to you.”

“And,” you start to move now, hopping off the desk so you can straddle Poe, easily plucking the knife from his hand, and looking down at it. “Maybe one day I can use it on you, and I can tell you how much I want to carve my initials into your skin.”

“Because we belong to each other,” Poe murmurs, his voice low. You nod in agreement, mouthing at his pulse point, and trailing sloppy kisses above the cut of his uniform. “I’d love that, sweetness.” His hands are running up and down your sides. “I love you.”

You just hum happily, content to be breathing in Poe’s scent, to feel surrounded by him. You’re interrupted by a knock on the door, and you just sag into Poe, the knife pressing slightly into your stomachs as you nose at his throat, unwilling to face the inevitable departure.

“What is it?” Poe’s voice is once again hard and forceful, impatient with whoever dared to interrupt.

“Sir?” The voice is young and you turn slightly, just enough to spy a young recruit in your peripheral view, not quite brave enough to enter the room, instead choosing to dither in the doorway, holding a number of files. “I’ve got these for you to sign.”

Poe just huffs, not bothering to address the recruit. You know what’s about to happen so you untangle yourself, before leaning over to grab one last kiss from Poe before the evening. It starts off innocently enough, a small peck on your husband’s lips as a goodbye, but then you back for another. This time his mouth is open as it meets yours, and you happily deepen it, despite the awkward angle that you have to hold yourself at. Your earlier conversation has fuelled your desire, revving you up, and the idea of waiting is hellish.

You taste all of Poe, moving one hand to his face, moving to feel the slight scratch of his beard underneath the pads of your fingers. His hand moves to cup your jaw, and you forget about the recruit standing in the doorway until there’s a slightly awkward shuffling in the corner.

So you break away, slowly, unwillingly, Poe’s mouth following even as you stand to your full height. “See you later,” you murmur, leaving your blunt knife in his lap, and pressing one more quick kiss to his cheek.

His hand catches yours as you leave, and he lowers his lips to your knuckles, soft lips juxtaposing with the harsh strands of his beard. “I love you.” They’re commonly said words between you, but they never lose their power, especially not when Poe says them, like you’re a goddess on a pedestal and he’s an unworthy sinner who wants nothing more than to worship at your feet. Said reverently, like it’s a privilege to love you.

The recruit is forgotten again as you look back down at Poe, still unable (or maybe unwilling, you’re not entirely sure) to tear yourself away. This time it’s a small, almost involuntary clearing of the throat that makes you duck down again for a kiss on the other cheek. “I love you too.”

Poe flashes you a quick smile, before all softness leaves his face and he turns to the files the recruit is holding out for him. You admire him for a second by the door, proud of the terror that Poe can instil in those below him so easily.

***

You’re lying on your bed when Poe enters the room. He’s already taken off his shirt in the refresher, exposing his chest, the warm glow of small lamps around the room making his chest look more golden than usual, as though he’d been touched by Midas. The belt holding his trousers up is slung low around his hips, and you can just see where his snail trail mixes into a darker bush, just peeking over the top of the fabric.

You’re wearing some of your favourite lingerie, bra matching your panties, straps criss-crossing your hips, and outlining your breasts. It’s soft against your skin, the satin material outlining your curves, allowing your nipples to poke through the flimsy fabric. Part of the reason that it’s your favourite is because Poe loves it so much.

You’d heard him enter your rooms, so the book in your hands is just for decoration, more concerned with the way you look resting among the pillows, upper body raised artfully against the headboard as you wait for your husband.

It still gives you a rush to call him that, and you idly wonder if it’ll ever fade.

He’s put his holster on, the one he wore on that mission, the strap doing nothing but emphasising his thigh. You recognise the handle peeking out of the shaft, and your mouth goes dry with excitement.

And Poe’s only looked at you, silent as he takes you in. Just his presence can have such an effect on you. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse, and your eyes flick down, admiring the already large bulge in his trousers. “Fuck baby.”

You swallow, your breath already coming faster, you look at Poe like it’s the first time, tracing the outline of his shoulders as if you don’t already know them by heart. He’s wearing his necklace, a familiar sight, the only change being that the ring that used to hang on his breast bone is now on your left hand, but Poe still never takes it off.

You plan on moving to Poe, plan to blow his mind before he can blow yours but before you can he’s already crawling on top of you, holding his weight on his forearms either side of you, dipping his head down to kiss you.

This kiss isn’t like the one in the office, more hungry, more urgent. There’s none of the calmness simmering between the surface, Poe’s let go of his control.

You automatically hook your legs around his waist, already canting your hips upwards as you grind on the seam of Poe’s trousers.

You separate your lips from Poe’s, moving down his throat, kissing, and biting as you go, beard scratching the skin on your face, pleasurable little bites of pain. When you can, you grab hold of his chain between your teeth, tugging on it slightly.

You move your hands up to bury your hands in the neat curls on top of Poe’s head, pulling in tandem with the chain.

And just like that, with a flash of fluid movement, the knife is pressed dangerously against the column of your throat, pushing your head back onto the pillows, forcing you to release the chain. It’s cold, and feels sharp, and Poe’s using it to force your chin back and up, pressing into your skin.

“Are you going to behave?” His voice is a growl.

You just grin at him, ignoring the thrills shooting up your spine, and the way your legs are tingling with excitement.

“Maybe you should use that knife and find out.”

Poe just rolls his eyes in response, fishing into his pocket as he leans back. “Put that on, sweetheart,” he instructs, tossing you a small square of black silk, your blindfold. “And lie back.” You do as you’re told, putting the blindfold on carefully, adjusting it around your hair for comfort, before scooting down the bed and lying back.

You close your eyes behind the blindfold, never enjoying the sensation of seeing darkness, and instead feeling like you’re floating as you wait for Poe to do something.

“Colour?”

Stars you can’t tell where he is.

“Green!” Your voice is embarrassingly desperate but you want to start and what is taking Poe so long? Why isn’t he touching you yet? You can hear him moving around the bed, feel the slight disturbances in the air, but you’re still not entirely sure where he is.

The first thing Poe does is pull at the waistband of your underwear. You lift your hips, helping him pull them off, and then you wait. You can hear Poe breathing, but he doesn’t do anything for a moment and you’re free to let your imagination run.

Has he discarded them, and he’s just watching you? Admiring you? Or is he holding them up to his face, still in awe of how wet you get for him, smelling you, tasting you, without you even knowing? You’re wet, you can feel the heat gathering between your legs, but has it been enough to leak onto your panties?

And then the foot of the bed dips, Poe travelling up to straddle you, coming to a rest on your thighs. He sits there for a moment, not moving, and you keen for him, desperate for him to start doing anything.

You can’t see the look on his face, can only imagine his expression, and it’s driving you wild.

When the knife first touches your skin, it’s a shock, cold thrills shooting up your arm from where the knife is resting lightly on the inside of your wrist. You giggle, releasing some of the tension building in the room, causing Poe to lift the knife from where it’s resting, instead leaning over to bite the skin under your ear, his chest brushing yours. “Concentrate,” he admonishes you, but you can feel him smiling against your skin at you, that softness that comes easy to him when it’s just the two of you.

You arch your back towards him as he stays there, enjoying the feeling of his chest against yours, the way his warmth spreads through you. You can feel his chain trapped between your bodies too, a warm, comforting presence, at such odds to the knife in Po’e hand.

You giggle again, his beard tickling your neck when he drops a kiss, when you feel the knife turn on your skin and curve up your arm. It’s cold, and sharp, and if you didn’t know it was blunt, you’d be worried about the amount of blood running into the bedsheets. The sensation is enough to stop your laughing, and you take in a breath, short and barely audible.

Poe’s sat up now, away from you, and you arch your back towards where he must be, desperate for contact as he travels the knife slowly up your arm and across the front of your shoulder.

You struggle to press your legs together, already attempting to relieve some of the pressure building. Poe doesn’t miss your subtle squirming, kissing the soft underside of your jaw, before talking. “That feel good?”

You nod, whining out a “Yes Poe, it-it feels so good, don’t stop, don’t stop, stars.” Poe adjusts himself, bringing one leg over your thigh so he can fit a knee at the junction of your legs. One of your hands flies down to grab Poe’s thigh, clumsy fingers looking for him before spreading across his warm skin. Your other hand is already fisting into the sheets at your side.

“Poe.”

It’s a whine, high-pitched and a bit pathetic, even as you shift your hips down, feeling the delicious grind of Poe’s uniform catching on your bare pussy, imagining the mess you’re leaving on his uniform not for the first time, feeling oh so good when you angle your hips in a certain way to press your clit. You’re soaked, you can already feel it slightly on your inner thighs and you dimly remember a time when you were embarrassed at how easily Poe aroused you.

He uses the knife to push the straps of your bra down your shoulders, cold and slow and achingly painful, but Poe doesn’t slide them all the way down your arms, even as he allows you to keep grinding your hips down against his leg.

He lowers his mouth to your breasts, mouthing at your nipples through the thin fabric, a wet heat pooling and you mewl in protest, impatient and wanting more. Always more.

More, more, more.

You don’t think you could ever get enough of your husband.

And his beard. The skin on your breasts is soft, sensitive, and you can feel the burn already, even through your bra. Each scratch sends a thrill up your chest, settling in your throat as you let out small noises of enjoyment for your husband.

Poe moves under your breasts, kissing and nipping at your exposed skin, and you move your hands to his head, fumbling a little at first, your knuckles accidentally knocking into the side of his face when you misjudge the distance, until you find his thick curls.

They’re soft under your fingertips, and you tangle your fingers in, tugging every now and then. Poe’s moving at an excruciating pace, and you want more now. Your arms are caught slightly in your bra straps and you impatiently push them down, not liking the restraint.

“Please, Poe.” You struggle to find his head again, before giving him another, harder, tug, and now it’s Poe’s turn to moan against your skin.

“Baby,” He sounds just as broken as you feel, even as he keeps his hands on your shoulder, the knife resting gently against the column of your throat.

Poe peels your now-wet bra from your breasts, undoing the centre clasp and allowing it to fall to the bed at your side. He kisses somewhere on your stomach, moving his free hand down, slipping through your folds easily, and dipping in his fingers, spreading the slick that’s gathered there, and you widen your legs further in an automatic attempt to make it easier for him.

You can’t help it, lifting your hips when he slides in one finger, gasping in pleasure. Poe gives you a second to adjust, before stretching you with a second finger, and you can feel his smirk as he kisses your stomach, crooking his fingers towards your sweet spot a couple of inches inside you, moving slowly as he teases you.

His chain just touches your skin when he kisses you, each movement jostling it a little, and you giggle, pulling at it in a futile attempt to control Poe’s movements.

Warmth is spreading all over your body despite the cool knife, and you can feel droplets of sweat beading, on your face, your neck. You’re sure there’s sweat on your breasts and stomach and legs too, but you don’t care.

Poe moves the knife from your neck, and you’ve lost your concentration, unable to figure out how he’s lying, lost in the sensations of the cold glide of the knife over your sweaty body as you moan, Poe working magic with his fingers. You can feel his weight on top of you and you allow yourself to float further, willingly losing yourself in the sensations.

“Colour?”

Poe’s voice is hoarse, even as he keeps moving his fingers inside you, building you up and up, the knife hesitantly pressed on the underside of your breast.

Your arch your back towards him enthusiastically, gasping out, “Green! Poe, it feels so good!”

The knife starts to circle the flesh of your breasts, pushing in the side of one, before Poe moves it to the other, and you’re sure your nipples are hard. You’re trying to push your body up, Poe making you feel light and airy and like he’ll raise you above such mundane things as lying in a bed.

His fingers are moving in and out of you now, and this is so close to your fantasy from the other day that you come close to your peak embarrassingly fast.

“You really like this, don’t you?” Poe’s purring in your ear, and you tip your head towards him, mouth falling open in response. You do. You do really like this.

The only sound you can make is a strangled moan, and you hope Poe knows what you mean, his fingers speeding up with your confirmation. He keeps talking, as though you’re going to be able to answer, his voice only spurring you on. “I bet you can’t wait to do this to me, my filthy little thing.”

“Do you want my cock? I can’t wait to get you bouncing on my dick again.”

“You’re so wet for me, you’re dripping around my fingers.”

And stars, you are wet, Poe’s fingers sliding in and out with a practiced movement, his thumb flicking at your clit, and you can hear the squelching of Poe’s fingers in your pussy, even as blood starts to roar through your ears.

“Fuck,” you swear, panting, your body hot. “Fuck, Poe. Poe.”

It’s like his name is the only word you can remember, the only word allowed to pass your lips, a prayer, a chant, repeated over and over again as he lifts you higher.

And then the tip of the blade is on your nipple and you’re going to come, you can feel it, your legs tensing even as your hips writhe on the sheets below you, keening for Poe, still desperate for more.

You cum with a breathless gasp of Poe’s name, hips bucking upwards into Poe, your pussy clenching around his fingers which don’t stop moving as he works you through it. He moves to kiss you, noses bumping as he adjusts his position, slowing the movements of his fingers as you continue to spasm helplessly below him.

And this is better, because as you come down from your high, your heart beating like a drum in your chest, you can feel Poe’s chest against yours, his heart beating nearly as fast as yours as your lips move slowly against each other.

Your hands come up, pushing the blindfold onto your forehead, preventing any sweat from dripping into your eyes and you take in the sight before you. You’re unintentionally giving Poe your bedroom eyes, you know, unable to open them fully, still giddy from pleasure. There’s a lazy smile on your lips as you drink Poe in.

His hair has become disheveled from your hands, errant black curls flopping everywhere, including his own forehead, which is gleaming from a thin sheen of sweat. His eyes are dark, that lovely brown colour almost swallowed whole by his pupils and his lips are pinker than usual, swollen.

He’s straddling your thighs, one hand resting on your hip with glistening fingers, the wet catching on your sticky skin while his thumb idly draws patterns into your skin. Poe’s other hand is holding onto the knife, and you let your eyelids dip, unable to keep them open for much longer.

Poe gives you a minute of rest, allowing you to catch your breath, before he moves. You don’t think anything of it, until you feel the knife on the inside of your thigh, scraping up your leg like an old-fashioned razor.

You slowly lift your head, opening lazy eyes and watch as Poe slowly moves the knife up. There’s slick liquid on your legs, proof of your release, proof of how much you enjoyed Poe, how much you enjoyed the knife, now collecting on the edge, white and shiny on the blade.

Your mouth’s dry and you can’t tear your eyes away, you and Poe concentrating on the same spot.

And then, oh maker, Poe closes his eyes, and fuck, he lifts the knife up to his mouth. There’s a flash of white teeth, pearly and sharp, then a swipe of his pink tongue, and your cum is gone, Poe swallowing, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Stars, he’s going to kill you.

There’s a drop stuck to his beard, but you can’t move, frozen as arousal courses again through your body.

Your heart is hammering in your chest as though it’s trying to escape. This time it’s your turn to move, pushing Poe down and straddling him, settling into his lap.

This isn’t the end.

***

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dreamwritesimagines · 4 years

Text

Twisted 7 - Enemies with Disregard [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, smoking, drinking.

Summary: Ice meets fire.

Being heartbroken over a genius whom you weren’t even dating to begin with was not something you saw coming, but here you were.

Lying in bed, eating chocolate and trying your hardest to focus on the show playing on the huge TV.

“That’s a beautiful wedding dress, fuck what your aunt says!” you shouted at the screen, chewing on the caramel chocolate but then looked up when you heard the front door open.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You groaned and turned your head to see your sister walk into your living room before she leaned on her hip.

“Oh great, you’re still where I left you.”

“I gave one person a key,” you pointed at her, “One. I don’t know if it was mom or you or your wife, but when I remember who it was, that person will be in trouble.”

“It was mom and we had copies made for times like these.”

You made a face and slid a little on the couch, “You should just leave me with my misery.”

“Are you seriously still sulking over that Reid guy?”

“I’m not sulking.”

She heaved a sigh and plopped down next to you, “The guy you liked suspected that you were a killer. So what? It could happen to anyone.”

You shot her a look, “Mina I’m pretty sure it doesn’t just happen to anyone,” you said, “In fact, I’m one hundred percent sure I’m the only person in the entire world who has had this problem.”

“It’s the 21st century,” she reminded you, “There’s some surreal shit happening every day, I’m willing to bet it happened to someone before.”

You popped a piece of chocolate into your mouth “Yeah well. It doesn’t matter.”

“Did he call you?”

“Yeah.” You tossed her the phone and she checked the screen.

“You’re not going to call back?”

You scoffed, “I’m busy.”

“Watching reality TV doesn’t count as being busy,” she said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“The charity ball is tonight, I’ll be busy towards the evening.”

“Oh right, I forgot about that.” Mina mused, “I mean…. At least you can get your mind off him tonight then. There’ll be so many insufferable people in there, you’ll fit right in.”

You were way too bummed out to retort to that.

“Um- about that,” you murmured, “There’s a huge chance that he will show up there.”

Mina blinked a couple of times, “I beg your pardon?”

“Apparently it would be a good place to see if the killer showed up, since they’re obsessed with dad’s life, so Spencer and his team might show up.”

She reached for the chocolate box in your lap and grabbed a piece,

“You must’ve fucked up in your previous life or something to piss off the universe like this,” she commented, “That being said, you’re overreacting.”

“I’m overreacting?” you exclaimed, sitting up straighter, “He implied—”

“There’s a copycat killer out there who looks up to dad, copying his life, dad was raising you to follow his footsteps and he wanted to talk to you after that first kill. You would’ve thought the same, and that’s not even your job.”

“I just wish…” you trailed off, “I just wish someone would actually have a good opinion of me, you know? I know it’s stupid to want that, but I guess I hoped Spencer would think that about me.”

“Hey,” she kicked at your feet, “I have that good opinion of you. Not just me, my wife adores you and my kid thinks you hung the moon. Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?”

That somehow made you smile and you nodded slowly, turning your gaze to her.

“Damn right,” you said, “Who the fuck cares what anyone else thinks?”

***

It took you almost three hours to get ready, but after three hours, you were finally happy with the way you looked. You walked through the entrance of the ballroom, fixing your bracelet, the chatter of people talking to each other, the lovely smell and soothing music greeting you.

Maybe it wouldn’t be as terrible as you thought it would be.

After all, it was for a good cause, so you could definitely bear it for a couple of hours

“Oh here you are!” your mother approached you, a smile warming her face, “You look gorgeous in red! I have to be honest with you, for a moment I thought you wouldn’t show up.”

“The thought did cross my mind,” you grabbed a glass of champagne from the tray one of the waiters was holding, “Thanks.”

“Mina mentioned you were having some romantic problems?”

“What?” you let out a snort as she linked her arm through yours, walking beside you, “I don’t have any problems and there’s no…romance.”

“Yet, but the night is still young.”

“Mom,” you whined, “Please don’t tell me you’re trying to set me up with someone in here.”

“I’m not!” she said, “I just think you could meet some people, that’s all. And if you happen to meet anyone and fall in love, decide to get married and have cute little babies—”

“Mom.”

“Tonight would be a lucky beginning!” she waved her hand, “That’s all.”

“That’s all? Oh good thing it’s not much.” You deadpanned, “Anyone ever told you that you have high expectations?”

“Multiple people on multiple occasions, they turned out to be wrong in the end,” she pointed out but before she could say anything else, a middle aged woman with a very high updo stopped you.

“Y/N honey!” she blew a kiss in the air so as not to ruin your or her makeup, “It’s been a while since we’ve seen you in a place like this.”

“Hi Sarah,” you smiled at her, “I’ve just been so busy. And I know I can’t look as good as this lady over here,” you pointed at your mom with your thumb, making her chuckle, “So I figured I shouldn’t even try.”

“How sweet!” Sarah clasped her hands together, “Now that I got you here, Tracy wanted to hire you for her wedding and I promised her I would ask.”

“Ah unfortunately my client list is full,” you hissed in a breath, “So sorry about that, but I can recommend an amazing colleague of mine, I’ll tell my assistant to mail her.”

“That’s great!” she said, “This whole wedding business is insane, she’s under so much pressure— oh there she is, excuse me.”

“Congratulations for the wedding,” you called out as she walked away and your mother raised her brows.

“Your client list is full?”

“Not really,” you said, “But Tracy said my hair looked terrible and pushed me into the pool when we were ten, I’m not helping that bitch with her wedding.”

“She really is insufferable,” your mother whispered, “Like mother like daughter, and I just think—” she stopped talking when her eyes stopped on someone in the crowd and you turned your head to see what she was looking at.

More like who she was looking at.

The older man had to be around your mother’s age, maybe only a couple of years older, but he could definitely pull off the suit and the grays in his carefully styled hair. He looked like he was having fun, telling something to the people around him who looked like they were hanging onto every word he said, but when he caught your mother’s glances out of the corner of his eye, he smiled at her, raising his glass a little.

You could’ve sworn you heard a small giggle coming from your mother and you tried to look not as amused as you felt.

“Well, go on then,” you said, nudging her and she looked at you, suddenly embarrassed.

“Oh sweetheart, no way.”

“Why not? I don’t see a wedding ring.”

“He was widowed ten years ago,” she said and you pulled your brows together.

“And you know that how?”

“Well you inherited those party planning talents from me darling, I know everything about everyone here.”

You clicked your tongue, “Well, okay then. My condolences, go get him tiger.”

“Y/N!”

“What?” you let out a laugh, “Mom, I work with couples, okay? It’s like Hunger Games out there. Besides, what was it you told me? If you happen to fall in love, get married and have cute little babies—“

“Babies?!”

“Dogs, mom. I mean dogs.” You heaved a sigh, “So I’m going to walk away to give the silver fox over there enough space to make his move.”

“He really does look good, doesn’t he?” your mother mused but then shook her head, “What am I saying?”

You tried to stop yourself from laughing, then stepped back, “Go. It’s about time Mina stopped being the only member of this family who’s lucky in love.”

“But sweetheart, you are lucky.”

A bitter smile pulled at your lips and you scrunched up your nose.

“Nah,” you said, “It’s fine, don’t worry.”

“I’m not letting you go away before you tell me what happened with that agent. Spencer Reid, right?”

You lowered your glances to the champagne glass in your hand. “Yeah.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing really,” you shrugged your shoulders, “It’s just…life. He works in the FBI, even if he did have feelings for me and that’s a big if, there would always be that doubt, you know? About how much influence dad has over me. He’s always going to have that suspicion at the back of his mind.”

“Is he going to have that suspicion or are you?” she asked, making your eyes snap up to hers and she heaved a sigh.

“I’m your mother, and you’re not as secretive as you’d like to think sweetheart,” she said, “There’s not a bone in your body that’s capable of doing what your father has done to all those poor people, Y/N. Trust me.”

You swallowed thickly and cleared your throat.

“We can talk about it after you flirt with that silver fox who’s looking at you as we speak,” you said as you downed your champagne, “You know what they said about the killer potentially being here so stay here in the crowd.”

“I wouldn’t go anywhere with him, people would talk!”

“Oh yeah, scandal,” you wiggled your brows, “Be careful, you crazy kids.”

With that, you walked away from her, desperate for a cigarette. You had been here before, and there had to be a balcony somewhere-

Bingo.

Maybe Spencer wouldn’t even show up. That wouldn’t be so surprising after all, FBI had a bunch of other agents, so maybe there were already some undercover agents in here and you didn’t know it yet.

Even if he did show up, you were sure you wouldn’t talk to each other since he would be busy trying to find the copycat and you had been avoiding his calls and texts. The small voice at the back of your mind scolded you, and you wondered for a moment whether Mina was right, whether you were overreacting but before you could reach the balcony, you were stopped by someone and you snapped out of your thoughts.

“Hi,” the guy said, “Y/N?”

You blinked up at him, trying to focus. He looked strangely familiar with dark hair and light blue eyes, and his smile reminded you of something you couldn’t put your finger on. His suit was expensive and just by his posture you could tell you were from the same circle.

All of you were taught the same thing after all. Chin up, back straight.

“Oh God, let me guess,” you said with a sigh, “My mom sent you.”

He pulled his brows together in confusion, “Uh, no she didn’t?”

“Listen buddy, no offense because you look really good but I’m going through some really weird shit right now so these are not the droids you’re looking for—”

“I’m Lincoln,” he cut you off, “We used to be neighbors when we were kids?” he tilted his head, “I uh… we used to play house in your treehouse?”

Your eyes widened as soon as it dawned on you.

“Linc?” your jaw dropped, “Oh my God hi!”

“Yeah, hi,” he grinned at you, “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

“The last I heard you were in….?”

“Italy,” he said, “I was dealing with my father’s business there but I came back a couple of months ago. How about you? I could swear my mom said you have an event planning business now?”

“Yeah my company deals with events but I specialize in wedding planning,” you said, “Wow. It’s been years huh?”

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, “It’s great to see you. I- I don’t know if it’s appropriate to say but I’m sorry about your dad.”

You forced yourself to smile and grabbed another glass of champagne. “Oh. Thanks.”

“You know, I wanted to reach out but we were both kids, and then afterwards it just felt strange,” he said as you dragged your gaze from him to the room, but as soon as your eyes landed on the figure by the entrance, the rest of Lincoln’s sentence became drowned out in the buzzing in your ears.

God damn it, you were right about the black suit looking good on him.

Spencer looked oblivious to the rest of the crowd just like you were, his gaze focused on you. You saw him swallow thickly, as if the mere sight of you was enough to make him freeze while his teammates spread out in the huge ballroom and you let out a breath, trying your hardest to ignore how fast your heart was beating.

“You okay?” Lincoln’s voice carried through the fog in your mind and your head snapped up.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, “I am. Uh…Linc, it was really nice to see you but I need some fresh air. Let’s catch up sometime, okay?”

Without even waiting for his answer, you made your way to the balcony, pulled open the huge glass door and stepped outside, letting the cool air hit your face. You inhaled deeply, then grabbed your cigarettes from your purse, put one between your lips and lit it. The first drag managed to calm you down just a little as you closed your eyes, exhaling the smoke.

It made no sense that you were this affected by some dude’s presence.

You heard the door open behind you but you didn’t even need to turn your head to see who it was. Your body responded way before you did, your shoulders rolled back and you straightened your back, fixing your eyes in the darkness.

“Did you know that in the United States alone, cigarette smoking causes 80 to 90% of lung cancer deaths?”

You raised your brows, still refusing to turn your head.

“Yeah? Do you have any percentages for killers who smoke as well?” you asked, putting your glass of champagne on the marble railing pillars and you heard footsteps behind you coming closer. You stole a look at him as he leaned back to the pillars, taking out his earpiece.

“Can we talk?”

“It’s a free country Dr. Reid, no one’s stopping you.”

He pulled his brows together, “You never call me that.”

“Well I should,” you said, “I think we can both agree that it’s better to keep it professional.”

“Is that what you want?”

A bitter laugh escaped from your lips, “Fuck what I want,” you murmured to yourself, taking a drag of the cigarette and he cleared his throat.

“I didn’t mean it to sound like that,” he said, “It’s not that I suspect you. It’s just that the profile would fit—” he paused, “It was before we met. It’s not what I think of you now.”

You tried to swallow the lump growing bigger and bigger in your throat.

“What do I care what you think of me?”

This right there, this was the exact reason why every relationship of yours ended. Mina had called it the shock effect, it was either too warm or too cold with you, in terms of affection. Much like the rest of you, your anger either burned everything on its path or froze everything.

You knew it was wrong, and yet, you couldn’t stop yourself once that ice made its way through your veins.

But unlike everyone else who had witnessed it before, Spencer was a profiler and he could see right through that.

“You don’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “I can’t worry about what people think of me, really. I wouldn’t be able to pull through what happened if I had.”

“But if what I said hurt you—”

“Hurt me?” you repeated, interrupting him and locked your eyes with him, “You don’t know me, Reid. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

He stayed silent, his hazel eyes looking into your soul but you dragged your gaze away from him and exhaled the smoke into the chilly night.

“You think, what— you think just because we’ve had couple of drinks together along with some flirting you discovered some hidden part of me? Honestly, what you know about me is about the same amount of information that any one night stand with enough skills to use Google would know about me.” You took a sip of the champagne and scoffed a laugh, “But hey, before I forget. Sorry if what I said hurt you.”

“Are you done?”

That was enough to make you turn your head, the question taking you by surprise,

“What?”

“Are you done?” he repeated, for some reason the look in his eyes made you feel like you were falling off a cliff, “If someone’s going to get hurt it’s not going to be you, and you can attack back just fine, are you done proving that? Or should I wait a little longer?”

You clenched your teeth, “You think this is me attacking back?”

“I think this is the only way you know how to protect yourself when you’re hurt.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips and you took a drag of the cigarette,

“You know, after my father was caught and imprisoned,” you said slowly, “After that summer, I had to go back to school. My mom was pretty worried but she let me go anyway but this whole social circle is so small, so every kid’s parent in my school knew about what happened, and they apparently talked about it around my classmates back then. Because on my first day, some of my friends ambushed me in the girls bathroom and in all that chaos, one of them tripped me so I fell and slammed my head to the sink. I had to get stitches, I thought mom would lose it.” You shrugged your shoulders, “I’ve learned that people would blame me for whatever shit dad decided to do when I was a kid, Spencer. You’d have to try a little harder if you wanted to hurt me, because right now you’re just being a cliché.”

You took a step to walk past him but he stopped you, his grip around your arm firm but soft at the same time, as if he wanted to make sure he wouldn’t cause any discomfort even though the light in his eyes was intense enough to wake goosebumps on your arms.

He knew how to keep it under control just like you.

“It’s not—“ he started but both of you snapped out of it when the balcony door opened.

“Reid, where the hell is your earpiece?” Luke asked through his teeth as Spencer pulled his hand back and you tried to ignore the warm tingles spreading under your skin, “We found a body upstairs.”

Your stomach dropped, “What?”

“Same signature, come on,” Luke said and you and Spencer followed him out of the balcony. The crowd was buzzing already and your mother made her way to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah I was just smoking outside.” You answered quickly and looked up at Spencer when you heard him saying your name.

“Stay here in the crowd,” he said as he put his earpiece back and you nodded.

“Hey,” you stopped him before he could take a step, “Be- be careful, okay?”

A small smile ghosted over his lips before he made his way out of the crowd with Luke and you massaged your temples before pulling yourself a chair. Your mother pressed a hand over her chest and sat down next to you, watching the people whispering with scared expressions on their faces.

It took her two minutes to pull herself together and she cleared her throat.

“Is that him?”

You gawked at her for a couple of seconds, your mouth agape.

“Mom, there’s a dead body upstairs,” you reminded her, “Read the room.”

She shook her head, “Of course, it’s the shock talking.” she said, stealing a look at you, “Sorry. It’s such a tragedy.”

“It is.”

“….But seriously, is that him?”

You groaned and closed your eyes, throwing your head back and slipping a little in your seat.

It was going to be a long night.

Chapter 8

***

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