#two-wheeled motorbike | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chlorinecake · 2 months

Note

I was thinking about illegalracer!jungwon as your bf. He takes you for late night rides on his motorcycle that finish with him fucking u on his place, it's like a normal routine now...

Imagine Illegal Racer Jungwon…

Who had a frisky side since the day you met him, living for the thrill of the night and earning himself a name of admiration and infamy on the streets as an underground racer…

Illegal racer Jungwon who turned every road into his personal racetrack, drowning out his thoughts with the roaring pulse of his motorbike engine.

Illegal racer Jungwon who never expected you to become a part of this side of his world, but enjoyed having you around regardless… internally smirking at the startled look on your face whenever his wheels took off in a race, or the labored breaths you’d let out once he returned to greet you with a victory kiss in front of every one watching.

Illegal racer Jungwon who made you sit on the back of his bike one day, inviting you to fully understand his love for the wild life, and you’ve been hooked ever since.

“If you hang on tight enough, I might reward you with something once we get to my place,” he’d say, revving the engine but refusing to take off until your arms were wrapped securely around his waist, nearby neon lights blurring into both your peripheral visions as the smoky wind whipped through your exposed hair.

Illegal Racer Jungwon whose eyes sparkled like onyx as these late night joy rides became a part of your normal routine, adoring how you learned to trust him when he’d speed down narrow alleyways, or come a mere centimeter from colliding into destruction.

You two had even been chased by the police before, but Jungwon always had a way of outrunning them, especially when he had a certain goal in mind to get you alone with him for the night…

Illegal racer Jungwon who with every harsh drift, loved it when you held onto him tighter, stealing kisses at red lights as silver rain painted the streets and your dewy leather jackets.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would park his motorbike under a tree, helping you take your helmet off with his protective hand at your hips, finger playfully linking in the hoops of your jeans as he buried his face in your neck, kissing you desperately in between whispering how badly he had missed you…

Illegal racer Jungwon who usually left the back door to your little secret place unlocked, mostly because it was reserved for one thing and one thing only.

Illegal racer Jungwon who always looked especially attractive in his damp biker suit, watching with lust-ridden eyes as you stripped him of his leather layers to grant you better access to his broad shoulders.

“Love it when I take you out just so I can fuck you, huh?,” he teased, almost cooing at the way you rushed to take off his belt.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose sultry voice tantalized your ears whenever he spoke dirty to you, taking your face in his free hand to force your glossy eyes back on him.

“That’s my good girl- shit… keep fucking yourself on my cock,” he’d grunt in between having you bounce in his lap, sounds of skin against skin filling the room, “does it feel good, baby?… hmm?”

“Feels s-so good, Wonie,” you hummed with a broken moan, throwing your head back as he continued guiding your hips, “gonna come… f-fuck- gonna come so hard for you, baby…”

Illegal racer Jungwon who let his eyes roll in the back of his head every time you clenched around him, his pouty mouth leaning forward to suck, bite, and lick on your skin anywhere he could.

Illegal racer Jungwon who would always finish on your stomach because he never remembered to bring a condom, once again, enjoying the subtle risk of potentially forgetting to pull out of you.

Illegal racer Jungwon whose soft “I love you’s” after a reckless night never failed to make your heart flutter, taking a short cut to bring you back home even if it was past two in the morning.

Illegal racer Jungwon who liked kissing you goodnight at your doorstep on nights like this, his hand playfully smacking your ass as he whispered in the cool air, “You better call me first thing in the morning, alright?”

Illegal racer Jungwon who chuckled to himself whenever you waved at him like he wasn’t the guy you fucked every night, driving off into the distance with his final thoughts being your pretty face, a flushed red hue from the love he made to you...

took me forever and a day to answer this ask (my sincerest apologies, anon), but hopefully you get to read it sometime soon !!

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ( 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 💌 ) @squoxle @wonbinisbabygurl @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @addictedtohobi @ot7sevenlvr + the link to my masterlist ~

#enhypen #enhypen ff #jungwon smut #yang jungwon #jungwon ff #jungwon hard thoughts #jungwon hard hours #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard headcanons

923 notes · View notes

chocochipsushi · 4 months

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐭, 𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲?

Happy 2K followers to me! Here's a short scenario I came up with in reference to this tiktok video I saw.

🌸Warning: SFW Biker!Toji but there is a one-liner that is a tad bit suggestive

🌸AU: Your dad tries to embarrass you in front of a hot biker but you still stay winning anyway

🌸Word count: 824

“Dad, please don’t!” you beg, just knowing what your father is going to do the moment he notices you getting distracted by the biker waiting for the red light to turn green.

Your dad smirks at you, not saying anything. As the both of you walk towards the pedestrian crossing, he clears his throat and spares no time to humiliate you. He puts his fingers in his mouth and whistles loudly, rudely. Then, he points in the biker’s direction. You can see the slight tilt of the black helmet as he watches you and your dad.

“My daughter thinks you’re hot!!!”

You slap a hand over your mouth in shock and disbelief that your dad would actually humiliate you like this. You are still gaping at the biker like an idiot when he leans back and flips his visor up. Your thumping heart races even more when you notice his dark eyes sliding up and down your body. Even from a distance, you can see his slit eyes crinkling.

“Can I get her number, Old Man?” the biker shouts back, though his voice is muffled by the helmet he is wearing.

And because your dad is an asshole, he shouts back, “No!!!”

“Oh my god, dad!” you cry, extremely embarrassed. You’re speed walking across the pedestrian crossing, wanting so much just to run off and hide, when you hear the engine or the motorbike start.

You turn, expecting to watch the bike zoom off. Instead, you see him driving to the side of the road where he kicks the stand of his two-wheel drive. He swings his leg over the seat and he is off the motorbike in a second. Your heart races when you notice him walking in your direction.

Surprised and anxious, you start jogging to the other end of the road. The moment you reach the pavement on the other side, you turn around, only to freeze when you see the biker just a few steps away from you. You could see his dark green eyes crinkling slightly.

“Need your number, doll,” he declares behind his helmet.

“Need?” you repeat mockingly, laughing a little.

He chuckles and hands you his phone. “Need,” he confirms.

Amused by his response, you reach for his phone. You glance back to see your dad rushing to your side of the road to catch up to the both of you. Quickly, you save your number and name, and pass the phone back to the man. He reads your name experimentally in a low voice, then looks up at you, as if to confirm that it is your name.

You nod, just as your dad reaches this side of the road. Embarrassed, you quickly shoo him away, “Okay, nice to meet you. Your bike is being ticketed!” You point at his motorcycle across the road.

The man chuckles in amusement. “Yeah, that’s not working on me.” He sees your father walking over from the corner of his eye and he hums. “But I’ll go. You be a good girl for your daddy,” he says huskily, knowing exactly what his words would do to you.

Heat shoots up your body and blood rushes to your cheeks. Just then, your father stands next to you and faces the biker, giving him a good, intimidating look. Unfazed, the man with the helmet takes off the headpiece in respect, hugs it under his arm, and holds a hand out to your dad.

“Toji Fushiguro, sir. Thanks for setting me up with your beautiful daughter,” he says.

You’re not quite sure what your dad responds to that because you’re staring at the handsome man with his black hair stuck to his forehead with sweat, his green eyes contrasting so beautifully against his dark features. You only snap out of it when the pedestrian light turns green again and Toji throws his thumb behind him in the direction of his bike.

“I’m gonna go fill up my tank to get ready to bring your daughter out to a nice place tonight, sir.” He glances at you with a cheeky glint in his eyes and a smirk. “If that’s okay with you,” he looks to your father now for permission, who shrugs.

“It’s her time to waste, not mine.”

Toji laughs and nods. As he takes a step back, he waves his phone at you and calls your name. “I’ll text you. Wear jeans!”

“Who said I’ll say yes to dinner with you?” you retort.

He is still backtracking even as he crosses the road. He shouts, “Of course you will! You think I’m hot!”

Feeling your ears get hot again, you can only stare at his vehicle and yell, “Your bike’s getting towed!”

The male grins. With a wiggle of his fingers, he turns on his heels, slides his helmet back on, and runs back to his undisturbed, perfectly parked bike.

You’re going to have to start thinking of what to wear tonight.

#toji fushiguro #toji #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk x oc #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #fushiguro toji x you #toji x oc #toji x y/n #biker!toji #sfw toji #sfw jjk

515 notes · View notes

imagine-knowing-a-name · 6 months

Text

At Your Service

Summary: As a trainee mechanic, you apply for an apprenticeship at Stark Automotives on a whim. What you don't expect is for Tony Stark to reply personally with an offer to train you, and if that wasn't enough, a certain redhead also takes an interest in your sessions.

Word Count: 2303

Pairing: (Mentor/Mentee relationship for both) Natasha Romanoff & Reader; Tony Stark & Reader

Warning: None :)

A/N: Thanks for the response to my last fic, all the comments and reblogs kept me writing even with all my deadlines, and Mechanic!R was the clear winner of the last poll, so here you all go! Enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

You rested centimetres from the cold floor with the sight of oil-covered gears, shafts, and pipes overtaking your vision as you rolled under the automotive.

"Does the axle cover come off?" you said after a short inspection.

"Yeah, those two hex screws, I'll get you the tool. You've worked out the issue?"

"It's meant to be 4-wheel drive and only the front wheels are moving; I'd guess a problem with the connector shaft meeting the rear axle."

"You'd guess or you'd know?"

"I can't know anything 'til the cover's off and I can see inside."

"Good answer," Tony replied. "Hand out."

As instructed, you stretched your arm until your fingers just about reached out from under the car chassis, where a tool handle was placed in your palm.

"One 5/8 hex screwdriver, that's the one you'll need."

"The screws are imperial?"

"'Course, kid, we're in America."

"Yeah, but you sell these cars globally; I just assumed-"

"Dear old dad set up factories all over the globe – allows for some regional differences in the schematics, then each production line just does its own thing. It's easiest for everyone."

You hummed your acceptance of his method, then started to undo the screws, until a light rock to the car paused you. The movement stopped, so you assumed it was just Tony leaning on the car and you moved to continue your work, until the hum of a motorbike -- the sound of which you'd previously ignored -- grew even louder. You jolted when the bike pulled into the garage, causing you to smack your head against the car's underbody and let out a low groan.

"Watch yourself, kid; are you alright under there?" Tony said from above. At your murmur that you were fine, he continued, "roll yourself out, there's someone for you to meet."

"Why's there someone under your car, Tony?" came a woman's voice -- the person to meet, you assumed -- "can't get under the car like the old days, hm?"

When you emerged, the bright light of the outside world temporarily blinded you; you could make out Tony's figure, and as your vision returned, you saw the newcomer's back was turned to you, so only an orange plait could be seen from under her bike helmet.

"Very funny," Tony scoffed, continuing the conversation before he pointed at you. The woman turned and you only just managed to stifle a gasp when you recognised her face. "This is an apprentice, wrote to me a couple months back asking to learn about Stark Automotives, so I've been training them since. Y/N, this is Nat. Nat, Y/N."

From the moment Tony suggested training you here, in the garage of the Avengers Compound, you knew there would be a chance of running into the rest of the team you'd spent your childhood idolising. But truthfully, you were too starstruck that Tony Stark himself had offered to train you to truly believe that moment of meeting the other Avengers would ever come.

Now here you were, facing the Natasha Romanoff, looking effortlessly cool with her white vest, jeans, and leather biker jacket...while you laid on the floor in a Stark branded boiler suit and a definite grease mark where you’d hit your head. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment when you realised that the Black Widow's first perception of you was seeing you smack into an object directly in front of your face. You only hoped the blush didn't show when you finally met her eyes.

"Good to meet you," she said cooly, holding her hand out, but her eyes tracked up and down as if sizing you up.

You took her hand instantly, about to ramble through an introduction before a slight gasp from her shook you back to attention. Your eyes snapped down to where your hands met, and you realised then that you still wore your gloves, coated with oil from working on the vehicle, and now you've smeared it all over her uncovered hand. You instantly broke away -- apologising profusely -- and grabbed sheet after sheet of blue paper roll, offering it to her to help clean her hand.

"I'm so sorry," you repeated again, but she shook her head and smiled at you.

"I've had much worse meetings. I'll happily take a little bit of grease over being shot at."

"Woah-"

"Hey, kid," Tony began. Both your head and Natasha's snap in his direction; you'd honestly forgotten he was still there. "Not to interrupt, but have you ever worked on a motorbike? I made a few modifications to Nat's, and now that she's so kindly brought it to us I can show you how they work."

"Do not lay a finger on my bike, Stark," Natasha growled in a tone that reassured you that if she had actually been angry at the grease before, you would have known.

"I won't," Tony scoffed with a roll of his eyes, "...Y/N will."

You gulped, eyes darting between the two Avengers as you were drawn into the fold. "Me? Tony I'm not sure that's-"

"It's essential learning. We don't just make fancy cars so you have to learn it all. Nat, you wouldn't deprive Y/N of this learning, would you?"

Natasha groaned, but eventually relented, crossing her arms and perching on the counter by the wall. "Okay, but I'm not leaving you alone with it. And Y/N?"

You looked up, fear probably showing on your face. Natasha smiled in return, and allowed you to see a glint of mischief in her eye, "give me a running commentary of what you do. I trust your honesty more than Stark's." She smirked at the last part, rolling her eyes as she pointed to Tony behind his back, an action for you and you alone to see. Something about it put you at ease, so you nodded, smiled back, then got to work, spending the rest of the session under the assassin's watchful eye.

»»————-　★　————-««

You watched the phone in your hand, hoping and waiting for those three little dots. Tony Stark was not a man famously known for his punctuality, but he’d been early to every lesson so far and now, ten minutes after you were due to meet, you’re starting to worry.

The worry wasn’t the lesson being cancelled so much as the worry that one of the other Avengers would walk in and accuse you of trespassing – there were still so many residents you hadn’t met, and without Tony present, you were just a stranger loitering unaccompanied in the Avengers’ garage, surely that looked suspicious. No matter the fact that you were supposed to be there and had gained authorised access with your security card, your anxieties continued to grow and grow.

Your heart rate sped up proportionately to the increasing rumble of an approaching bike. The seconds seemed to elongate when you knew there was no escape to being caught there alone. In the remaining time you had, you pulled your phone back out and, with shaking fingers, messaged Tony one more time – at least then you had proof, you kept your eyes on the device even as you felt the newcomer pull in and dismount from their motorbike.

“Let me guess, Tony didn’t tell you he’s away?” Your head snapped up at the familiar voice, face breaking into a grin as red hair broke free from under the helmet. Natasha had been showing up more and more frequently to your sessions, so her arrival was no surprise, but you were glad to have a friendly figure to justify your presence, lest anyone else appear. Natasha set her headgear to the side and hopped up onto the counter, following her usual routine; you watched her intently until you realised she was watching you too, still waiting for an answer.

"Oh, uh, yeah, no, he didn't- he didn't tell me. He's not coming?"

“He got called on a mission last night. Should be back in a few days, if all goes to plan, but I’ll have a word with him about keeping you informed.”

Her undivided attention unnerved you – Tony had always acted as a buffer before – so you fidgeted, avoided eye contact, and wondered what your next move should be. Thankfully, Natasha answered that last question for you: “It wouldn’t be right to send you home so soon,” she said, “And I am officially a Stark Industries employee still, you know, if you wanted…”

“Yes!” you exclaimed instantly, speaking before you thought. “I mean, yeah, if it’s no trouble. That would be awesome.”

“We both know I’d sit here and watch anyway.” She spoke softly and with a smile that you found yourself drawn to replicate, feeling more at ease in the spy’s presence. “Now then, I know about a lot of things but mechanics is an area where you might already have me beat, so how about something else?”

“Like what?”

“What do you want to know?” she shrugged, “Russian? Latin? Artillery? Archery? Wrestling? Weightlifting?” At your dumbstruck expression, Natasha smiled and realised she would have to make the choice for you, “how about the gym? You can impress Tony with your strength next time he makes you use that scissor jack.”

Your cheeks burn at the memory – neither Natasha nor Tony had said anything at the time, but both of them had needed to jump in and assist when you’d been unable to turn the jack enough for it to actually lift the car and fulfil its purpose. From Natasha’s warm smile, you could tell she still wasn’t mocking you for the incident, but you still nodded quickly and murmured agreement with her plan, before following her through the Compound towards the gym.

“Can I ask why you’re a Stark Industries employee?” you asked on the elevator, as a way to fill the silence and out of curiosity from her earlier words.

She laughed, “It was back in ‘09, we had to get intel on the newly revealed Iron Man, and the man behind the suit-”

“Tony-”

“Exactly. So, S.H.I.E.L.D. made some edits to the employee list, added my cover there, and I successfully infiltrated the company for as long as I needed. I only officially revealed myself at the 2010 Stark Expo – do you remember that? – and in all the chaos afterwards, they never officially took me off it.”

“I think I remember seeing it on TV – you were there?”

“I left before the explosions started, but I was around, trying to make sure as few people were in harm’s way as possible-” Natasha cut herself off as the two of you entered a space larger than any lecture hall, fitted with all sorts of workout machines – the majority of which you’d never seen in your life. “Here we are.”

“You use…all of this?”

She nodded, then paused, before pointing to a section in the corner where the machine structures and weights seem almost treble that of the current area. “That section’s for Steve, or Thor if he ever bothered to train. Us regular humans wouldn't move it an inch if we tried to use those machines.”

Natasha smirked and shook her head again, guiding you towards one of the regular machines: a chest pad adjusted to press against your front as you sat on the stool, while Natasha adjusted the weight and pulled the two handles back for you to grab them. With the position set, you looked up to her for advice,

“Pull the handles towards your chest and push them back to neutral, it'll work out your upper arms. That's where a mechanic will need strength the most, so aim for 10 repeats.”

Natasha watched carefully, adjusting your posture where needed, until you completed the set. You broke into a grin at the realisation that you'd managed it, one which Natasha happily replicated as she held her hands up for a high fives. “You'll be a pro in no time,” she promised, “ready to increase the load?”

The rest of the session continued in much the same manner – Natasha introduced you to different bits of equipment and perfected your form until your phone buzzed with a routine alert to mark the end of a session.

Natasha accompanied you to the door, smiling, receiving, and occasionally rebuking the many thanks you bombarded her with for stepping up. “It was truly my pleasure,” she said at last, “I'll make sure Tony is back next week, but if you want to do this again, you have my number.”

She squeezed your shoulder, turned, and began to walk back inside – all before you came to the realisation: “I don't actually have your number!” you shouted after her. Natasha didn't respond, but when you checked your phone only seconds later, a message had appeared in your notifications.

‘Yes you do :)

-N’

She really was some spy.

»»————-　★　————-««

Everything changed from then on: you walked in to Tony and Natasha arguing a week later, their sudden pause at your presence a very good indicator that they were discussing you, something they confirmed only moments later.

Next thing you knew, both Tony and Natasha had taken you on as their mentee, a session with each of them once a week, and neither of them wanted you to leave. Your apprenticeship was extended into the next academic year, where you moved even closer to the Avengers Compound to visit them more often, the two Avengers – not to mention the others they'd introduced you to – always making sure you were well cared for whenever you visited. Eventually, Tony even offered you a full-time job post-graduation as the Avengers' official mechanic, and who were you to refuse? You loved the work just as you loved spending time with your mentors, so you could think of no better job in the world.

»»————-　★　————-««

taglist: @canvascoloredin @fxckmiup @wizardofstories

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff & reader #natasha romanoff & y/n #natasha romanoff & you #tony stark #tony stark & reader #tony stark & y/n #tony stark & you #ikan writes #self insert fanfiction #reader insert #marvel #fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff

412 notes · View notes

celaenaeiln · 11 months

Text

Bruce: *sees a motorcade come up on his right* *ignores*

Timmy in the back eying the group suspiciously: ….

*tapping on glass*

Dick: B, there’s someone tapping on my side.

Bruce: Don’t roll the window down they could be-

Dick: *already rolling the window down* *GASP* ROMMEY?! ROMMEY! ROMMEY!!

A 45 yr old grizzled man with a smoker’s voice, nicknamed Rommey by Dick: heya Dickie, how it’s going kiddo.

Dick: ROMMEY IM SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU AGAIN!

Another motorbiker with a full claw scar down his face: what about the rest of us, kid? Forget about us?

Dick: MANES! DERRICKA! IZZY!!

Derrick-I take down mercenaries for fun but let a kid I like call me DERRICKA-Rolan: You little shit, why’d we not hear from you after you fucked off to neverland huh?!

Isabella-what? Someone went missing? I had nothing to do with it, it’s total coincidence that I hated him-Hodges: Maybe he doesn’t like us, Der. That right, Dickie?

Dick: *flabbergasted* No!! It’s a long story! After I left I ran out of gas and then some girl crashed into my bike and sent it flying off the cliff but I dove off it first and then I had to walk to the nearest motel on bare feet because I gave her my shoes and then I met this half bear half man and I’ll be pleased to tell you that it was a beary bearable encounter once he got his bearings hahahahaha- *progressively climbing out of the car as the story goes on*

Bruce: Dick! Get back in the car! *having one hand on the steering wheel and grabbing the back of his shirt with the other to keep his wayward son from falling out*

Dick: Wait- *accidently twisting too far and nearly braining himself on the speeding asphalt*

Rommey: DICK!

Bruce: DICK!

Rommey, Derricka, Izzy, and Manes: *grabbing the front half to prevent Dick from becoming like two-face*

Bruce: *letting go of the wheel to grab Dick’s bottom half for the same reason*

Tim: *high pitched screaming from the back* DICK! Tₕₑ Wₕₑₑₗ! ₜₕₑ Wₕₑₑₗ!!!

Bruce: *struggling to pull his son in while the motorcade struggles to pull him out to sit on a bike thus leading to Dick hanging in limbo out the window of a car going 80mph on a freeway* GRAB THE WHEEL TIM

Tim: *sacrificing a few ribs on the edge of the front car seat* IM TRYING! I CANT REACH THE CRUISE CONTROL AND DONT LEAN BACK AND OH MY GOD SIGN POST! SIGN POST! THE POST! THE POSSSTTTTT!!!

Dick, Bruce, Tim, and motorcade: *furious screaming and shouting and panicking*

*2 hours later*

*Arriving at the manor*

Jason: damn what happened to you lot, you look like you went through hell and back.

Bruce and Tim: *drained, pale-faced, messy, sweating, and heaving*

Dick: *a curl of hair falling elegantly into his shining eyes* I just had the time of my life, Jay!

Jason who is well acquainted with Dick’s “Time of the life”s: ah. My condolences.

Tim: Never again. *flopping on the ground and cater-pilling his way up the stairs*

Damian: Father, this is such disgraceful attire! Fix yourself at once, mother would be embarrassed by such a visage! What in holy reincarnation have you been doing?!

Bruce: Never again, Dick.

Dick: it’s nothing Dami, they were just helping me.

Damian: Father, I am ashamed of you. Why must you devolve to such a state when you assist Grayson, he is perfectly capable of extraordinary feats without your input. I suggest you refrain from interfering with his success again.

Bruce:

Bruce: Damian, you-

Dick: Bruce. *smiling pleasantly*

Jason: *immediately sneaking off*

Bruce’s life momentarily flashing before his eyes: …..nothing. Go finish your homework. *trudging off to whine to Alfred about how no one’s gonna believe him*

Dick: *sincerely* what a great day! 😊

#Alfred who has heard so many ‘no one is going to believe me about Dick’ conversations on a regular basis and is tired of listening to them:#well sir what did you think would happen when you threw an 8 yr into the Batmobile and gave him full freedom to drive #Bruce: *moment of clarity* wait am I the cause of this #Bruce whose clarity never stays: nah I can’t be the cause of this #Alfred who is used to this conversation too: *sarcastically* ofcourse not sir. not at all #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #bruce wayne #batman #dicks secret wild adventures catching up to him because no one ever checks in on this loose canon #jason todd #red hood #damian wayne #robin #batfam incorrect quotes #Damian thinks dick can do no wrong ever #if dick ran someone through with a sword he’d merely take notes

804 notes · View notes

autisticlancemcclain · 6 months

Text

Lance flicks on the lights and his soul damn near leaves his body.

“Jesus H. Christ one a one-wheeled motorbike, Pidge,” he gasps, hand pressed to his galloping heart. She doesn’t laugh — Pidge doesn’t laugh often — but Lance has learned to read her, in the year or so they’ve been in space. He recognises the twitch of her mouth, the flash in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“Your lock code is embarrassingly easy to guess,” she says in lieu of an answer. Lance smiles reflexively at the matter-of-fact, half chiding tone. He pulls finally away from the wall, having caught his breath, and starts rifling through his cabinet.

“Yeah?”

He hears the shuffle of blankets, the muffled hits on a pillow being shoved into a lap. When he glances out of the corner of his eyes, he finds her sat comfortably in the dead centre of his bed, criss-cross-applesauce, nails picking at the threads of his pillowcase and eyes blinking owlishly behind her glasses.

“Yes. Fifty eighth most common four letter password.” She pauses a moment. “Spelling F-A-R-T with numbers is very immature.”

Lance snickers. He’d forgotten what his password spelt, he’s used the same combo so long. “Is that right?”

“Yes. You should come up with something more secure. It was my second guess.”

“What was the first?”

Pidge doesn’t seem to notice his curious look. Her eyes are focused on the items in his hands, watching diligently as he sits on the floor next to a dish of water, squeezing some soap into his hands and rubbing it all over his bare legs. Her head is tilted with a similar look of inquiry.

“Your birthday. What are you doing?”

Instead of answering, Lance removes the cap from his razor and starts to carefully drag it down his calfs, rinsing it every two strokes in the water. Pidge watches with rapt attention.

Weirdo, Lance thinks, fondly and hypocritically.

It doesn’t take long for the questions to start firing off.

“What’s the point of shaving your legs?”

“Gets rid of the hair.”

“Why do you want to get rid of the hair?”

Lance takes a moment to gather his thoughts, answering truthfully. “Lots of reasons. Not all of them I’m proud of. I started mostly ‘cause Veronica did it and I used to do everything she did.” He pauses. A sad smile pulls on his lips, and he swallows around the comfortingly familiar lump in his throat. “Well. ‘Used to’. If she was here I’d probably still be puttering around after her.” He finds Pidge’s eyes and smiles at her, winking. “Older siblings are easy to hang off of, huh?”

Her mouth twitches. She breaks eye contact, resting her chin on her knees and moving the pillow under her legs. “No. Older siblings are annoying. And ridiculous. I once followed Matt around all day and wrote down every single time he said ‘ow’. He said in on average twenty-three times an hour.” She meets his eyes again, mouth pinched and eyebrows raised. “Your average is twenty-four.”

“I see.”

“You should tie your shoes.”

“Nah.” He taps the razor on the side of the dish, gently sliding it to the other side of him and switching his razor to his left hand. “Anyways. When I was your age I mostly did it ‘cause Ronnie did it. Helped with swimming, too. But as I got older…” He frowns. “As I got older, I started feeling like I had to, I guess. Like I was ugly if I didn’t.”

A pinprick of pain makes his hand still, lifting the blade from around his ankle. A tiny drop of blood swells at the base of it. He sets the razor down, quickly grabbing a towel and dabbing at the nick. Ankle wounds always bleed so much — it doesn’t even hurt anymore, but he can’t pull the towel away or he’ll stain the floor.

“…Do you feel that way now?”

Lance doesn’t answer for a long moment. He hears Pidge fidget, clicking her nails together. The blood finally slows enough for him to pull away the towel, and he resumes shaving the last half of his leg — much more slowly, this time.

“Not exactly,” he says carefully. “I recognize why I feel that way. I know where that pressure comes from, why it’s harmful. But it’s still…there. I still catch myself thinking cruel things; I have to spend a few minutes talking myself out of them. I tried stopping for about a year. I didn’t like it.”

He finally finishes swiping up the last line of soap, rinsing off his razor and then gently running a cold, wet cloth over his legs to get rid of any lingering suds.

“Do you think you’ll try to stop again?”

“Hm. I don’t think so. I like the feeling of smooth skin more than hairy skin, I’ve found. It’s nice on fresh sheets, plus sometimes hair tickles me and makes me jumpy. Plus, it’s easier to moisturize.”

“Ohhh,” Pidge says, and when Lance looks up there’s a real look of understanding on her face — not the practiced one she puts on when she doesn’t actually get something but doesn’t want to look dumb. “Like — it’s the same as why you don’t like jeans and socks.”

Lance smiles. “Exactly. I’d walk around in nothing but shorts and a big t-shirt, if I had the choice.” Legs clean and clean-shaven, he picks up his tube of lotion and starts dabbing dollops all over the skin. “That’s all I ever wore back home.”

“Arizona is freezing half the time!”

“Cuba,” Lance reminds her.

“Oh yeah,” she says again. “But what about when it rained?”

Lance shrugs. “Better to wear flip flops and get wet feet than wet socks. Wet socks are the worst.”

“Yeah.” She shudders. “Like prickly sweaters.”

He hums. The lotion smells like juniberries, which kind of smells like pineapple and hibiscus mixed with a strange, almost spicy scent. Not quite home, but close enough to be nice.

He doesn’t ask Pidge why she broke into his room while he was in the showers and sat in the dark waiting for him to get back. The same way he doesn’t press when she follows him down the halls, disappearing behind corners when he turns to look, or sits by his feet during movie night. He lets her be prickly with affection and learns to hear the undercurrent in her constant comments and rambles, learns to read her questions about every thing he does as curious rather than judgemental.

She would ice him out for weeks if he said it out loud, but there was this stray cat that lived near his house, when he was young. It hissed and spit and clawed if you came halfway near it; Mamá had forbidden him from trying in case it was sick. But he used to leave out water for it at night and sometimes even sneak Abuelo’s heating pad, and every once in a while it would let Lance sit near it without clawing him. Once it even attacked one of the older kids who used to chase him after school.

It’s no coincidence that Pidge always happens to be in the same room as him 90% of the time. Or that she can guess his passcode easily.

“Hey, Pidgeon,” he says, unwrapping the towel from his hair and starting to work in the leave in conditioner. “The lockcode on my snack drawer is the same as the room code. Just so you know.”

She stares at him for several minutes.

Her mouth twitches.

“I could have figured that out myself.”

“I know.”

“You’re weird.”

He smiles. “You too, nerd.”

282 notes · View notes

mysouleaten · 5 months

Text

raining cats and dogs ! [pt 3]

tokyo rev cats/dogs x gn! reader

summary ... it only started with [name] taking in two strays when they were driving home from work, it was pouring and the two poor strays were soaked! you couldn't leave them… so you took them in

warnings ... fluff, fluff, fluff, and more fluff, weird dude

[part one] [part two] [part three].... [part four]

you were sitting in the pet clinic for over four hours. the sun was setting and the moon was slowly rising

you looked down at your phone '6:14 pm' was the time

you looked up at the door where the people took your new rescue

you slumped back into your chair, hoping this would soon be over, you had two other cats at home waiting for you

you sat up when you saw a man with a box --and a towel covering it-- come out, he looked around and then put the box down on the counter

"mx...[name]?" he hesitantly asked

"yep, that's me!" you said and stood up to walk the man in the white coat

"ah! yes, so your cat is in the box here" the man patted the box softly and continued "we stitched him up, gave him some pills, and gave him his rabies shots... he was a stray correct?"

"yep, he was.. found him somewhere, I didn't want to leave him, ya know?" you scratched the back of your neck

"I know what you mean, its good that your bright him here, another minute and the poor thing would have died," he said and continued, "I think you also brought two others before here right?" he asks

"yeah I did" you nod

"mhm, well here you go" he handed you a pill bottle "these are for him after he wakes up, make sure he eats one every day, they are vitamins and pain relievers"

"okay got it, do I feed them by themselves or with food?" you ask

"they are bitter so yes you can feed them with food" he nodded "oh and before you go, please make another appointment after a week, alright? I wanna make sure he's healthy"

you nodded again and carefully took the box into your arms and left the clinic. something about that guy... rubbed you the wrong way.. maybe it was just you

you carefully put the box into the casket in front of your motorbike and sat down and started the engine

you looked at the clinic again and the same guy was standing there with his hands behind his back, you shivered then drove off

'maybe I should find another clinic..' you thought

you drive into your apartment complex's parking lot and park next to your car

turning off your motorbike and grabbing the box and putting it on the sidewalk, turning back to your bike you grabbed the chain from under the seat of the bike and wrap the chain through the bike's wheel and warp the chain around a poll finally locking it

it's better to be safe than sorry was what your brother says to you, plus this is his bike and you don't want it stolen

turning to the box where your new fluffy friend is in. picking the box up and walking towards the stairs and up

you unlock the door and close it back when you step into your home

"im home!" you say, then you hear small paw steps and meows coming from your room

you saw take' and peachy run towards you, meowing their little hearts out too you

crouching down with the box in your lap "heeey, sorry for being so late! I found this little guy!- or well he's kinda big actually, hahah"

peachy and take' step up with their front paws on your knees and try to take a peek into the box

"be careful alright? the big guys hurt.. found him at a car dump.. lots of other cats there too" you say

but you didn't see take' 's eyes widen and he stepped off your knee. peachy takes a step back too when you stand up

"ok how about you guys name your new friend while I make food?" you say as you put down the box on your window seal. peachy and take' jump up there

you stare down at the box before you hear a meow then you look at peachy

"haha this is a bit creepy isn't it?" you ask and she meows as to say 'yes'

you scratch the back of your head "well keep him safe ok? I'll go make food now" you say and back away from your cuties

coming back once more to give peachy and take' kissies on their heads, they seem to appreciate the attention

you even see take' cover his face with his paws and peachy snuggling into take' 's body

you retreat into the kitchen to set the food for your friends and an extra bowl for the new friend

how lucky are you to have another friend?

you didn't even realize how many more friends are soon gonna join your family

taglist... @sixxze @ploxpoke @q-the-rockaholic @dancingnewcat @ariachaos @cashout-princess

if anyone would like to be part of the tag list for this series please let me know!!

#RCAD!#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers fluff #takemichi x reader #hinata x reader #baji x reader #baji keisuke #hanagaki takemichi #hinata

122 notes · View notes

daintyys · 7 months

Note

mroe sirius black pleasee 🤞🤞 bf sirius who likes pda and doing subtly domestic things with reader like her always sitting shotgun in his car, kisses all the time etc

fem!reader x sirius black, 662 words

You knew Sirius would be early to pick you up, but still you waited until the last minute to start getting ready. And just your luck, you heard a honk from outside just as you had finished putting rollers into your damp hair.

"Oh, Siri..." You groaned to yourself, zipping up your boots and grabbing your purse.

As you walked outside, rollers and all, you were greeted with a flashy smile from your boyfriend. "Nice hair, gorgeous." He flattered, opening the passenger-side door for you. You laughed, sitting down in his car, careful not to mess up your hair. "Baby," You sighed. "You really need to start getting here on time. You're supposed to pick me up in 30 minutes!"

Buckling his seatbelt, Sirius looked over at you smirking. "It's fun catching you off guard, Y/N." He said as he placed his hand on your thigh.

Blush creeped up your cheeks, and you quickly connected your lips with his. His chin rubbed against yours, stubble tickling you and forming a smile on your lips. "What's so funny?" Sirius said, making his way down to your neck.

"Shave, please. I'm begging!" You giggled, running your fingers through his hair as he pecked at your collarbone. "I would, but that would get rid of how funny it is to see you all squirmy when I kiss you." Sirius avowed.

Disconnecting his mouth from your skin, he placed his hands on the steering wheel. Sirius drove a shiny red Cadillac Convertible, and it was the light of his life - other than you (of course), and his motorbike. He put the roof down, and started to drive.

You loved driving with Sirius, you loved the feeling of wind rushing past you, and seeing how handsome he looked with his hair flying behind him. He looked especially good with his sunglasses on, and he was wearing them right now.

You put your hands above your head, air rushing through your fingers. It was exhilarating.

You eventually reached your destination; a nice coffee shop next to a park.

You took out your rollers while Sirius admired your every move. "How are you so beautiful, Y/N?" He crooned, taking a strand of your hair in between his fingers and curling it gently.

"How do you manage to be the most romantic person at all times?" You wondered in return.

Sirius took your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles lightly. "It's what I'm best at, belle."

Once you were done fixing your hair, you two headed inside. Sirius had his arm interlocked with yours, and your fingers laced together like you were the last two people on Earth.

You sat down at a table on the far end of the coffee shop, where nobody could bother you two. Sipping your tea, you held Sirius' hand. He rested his chin on the edge of the table, looking up at you longingly.

"You look like a lost puppy, handsome." You teased, giving him a bite of your croissant. "I'm lost and you're saving me!" He declared, leaning across the table to place a kiss on your lips. You beamed. You were so lucky.

"I'm so lucky to have you." You both said at the exact same time. Bursting into laughter, you and Sirius kissed again. "I love you." You whispered, grinning from ear to ear. Sirius went quiet, seeming to be thinking about something. "What's wrong?" You questioned.

"Well," Sirius' face was lighting up right before your eyes. "How would you feel about moving in with me?"

Your eyes widened, and it felt like your heart had stopped. Had you heard him right? "Can you ask that again?" You whispered, at a loss for words.

"Will you. Move in. With me?" Sirius said, speaking to you as if you were an uncomprehending toddler.

Your heartbeat was racing at the speed of lightning as you proclaimed: "I would love that, oh my god I would love that so much."

#marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #fanfiction #daintyys #tumblr

140 notes · View notes

monster-disaster · 10 months

Text

[orc] Rakar Iron - 3/3

orc!Rakar Iron x human!Reader - 3/3 Good to know: there will be no smut in Rakar's story

Summary: You move back to Ironridge, and Rakar is there to help you.

A/N: This is the end of another story in Ironridge. I hope you liked it.

It's already late at night when you and Rakar decide to go home and say goodbye to the others. The air is still warm, carrying a faint scent of pine and earth. The gentle summer breeze rushes through the forest, caressing your skin and messing with your hair.

The door of the car thuds as you close it and wait for Rakar to join you. You watch him through the window. A smile plays on his lips while he talks with Thrak. The oldest Iron brother pats his shoulder a few times. Even though Rakar is leaner than his brothers, he towers over them easily. Your best friend laughs at something, and his whole face lights up under the dim glow of the house behind them. His boyish features never really disappeared over the years. Maybe this is one of the reasons why his family is still prone to baby him. Even though orcs don't get injured so easily, they freaked out when they found out Rakar has a passion for motorbikes. You were there when his mother promised she would kick his ass if something happened to him.

"Are you ready?" Rakar asks you when he gets in. The car starts with a soft rumble. "Yeah," you hum. "It was fun, though. Your mother still makes the best cakes." The orc grins while the house disappears behind the trees. "Oh, she knows that."

The moon casts a gentle glow through the gaps between the trees, lighting the path with a silvery hue. You catch a glimpse of the dark sky and the glinting stars every now and again. The silhouette of the mountains looms in the distance. Their peaks reach towards the sky. You can see the silhouette of the jagged ridges and steep slopes. The silence between you and Rakar is disturbed by an owl hooting from the darkness of the trees.

"I'm really happy for Thrak and Rowan," you tell him, keeping your gaze on the window. "Nora is really nice." "She is," Rakar agrees. "Who thought they would meet their girl without leaving the forest? Bastards." You laugh. Rakar is right. The two men are really fond of their life away from the others.

Your momentary happiness turns into tension rather quickly. A nagging feeling pulls on your chest, and you can't avoid it any longer. The elephant between you two is even bigger now, and in the safety of the dark night, you are ready to address it.

After nibbling on your bottom lip for a few minutes, you decide to break the silence again. "We should talk about…-" Rakar doesn't even let you finish. "About the kiss?" Heat creeps up on your cheeks. "I wanted to say Rowan, but there is the kiss too." The orc grimaces. "Right, Rowan." Yeah, it's definitely an easier topic. Damn it. "But yeah, we should talk about the kiss too, now that you mentioned it." "Right."

You wait for Rakar to say something, but instead, he takes a turn at the edge of the town and parks the car next to the road. Now you can see the dim lights of the buildings ahead of you, but you are still in the shadows of the trees.

"I like you." His words ring in your ears for a long time after he says them. Your eyes widen as you look at him, but he still stares out of the windshield, gripping the wheel. "You like me as a…" "As more than a friend." Rakar can't believe the words that leave his mouth. He kept his feelings secret for so long, and now that they are out in the open, he can't shut up. "I love you. I loved you for a long time, but I didn't tell you because I was afraid I would ruin our friendship. And you were engaged."

You know you should feel shocked. But you don't. Now that you know about Rakar's feelings, everything is obvious and… right. As if everything in your life, including your friendship with the orc, led to this point.

You almost laugh at the lightness of your chest. Even though heat warms your cheeks and your heart beats in your throat, you feel calm and collected.

Your lips open and close as you try to say something, but he still stares out of the window. The line of his jaw is hard as he clenches his teeth while waiting for you to speak up. Your fingertips tingle with the need to touch him. To lean closer and… "Rakar," you say his name. "Hm?" He replies but stays still. You can't help but laugh. He is so nervous. His fingers tighten around the wheel. You can hear it creaking under his strength. "If you don't turn to me, I can't kiss you." "What?" He gasps, looking at you finally with such a speed you are sure he gave himself a whiplash. "You want to kiss me?" He asks. His voice is quiet and shocked. "If you want to," you smile.

Excitement bubbles in your chest. Having this conversation with Rakar is easy and amusing. Even if it's new territory for both of you, you feel safe with him. You have no doubts about this. About wanting him.

The moment his lips touch yours, you forget everything else. A blissful sigh escapes your throat, and he lives with the chance to swipe his tongue into your mouth. He tastes like chocolate cake and his favorite beer. His tusks press against your lips. When you pull him even closer, he grunts, and it vibrates down your spine.

When you break away to breathe, your hands stay around his neck. You can feel the rapid beat of his heart under his soft, green skin.

"It wasn't weird, right? Kissing me." You freeze at Rakar's words. Weird? No. Kissing him felt natural and good. But does he feels weird about it? "Why?" You ask him. Your voice is tense. "Was it weird to you?" His dark eyes widen. "No! No, it wasn't." You smile. "Then kiss me again, you idiot." A frown appears between his brows with a hey leaving his lips, but he does as you say. There is no way he can stop kissing you now that you give him permission. Ever.

- Masterlist Ironridge Masterlist Patreon + Extra Chapter

#orc x reader #orc x human #orc x you #orc boyfriend #orc romance #ironridge #monster x reader #monster x human #monster x you #monster romance #monster boyfriend

126 notes · View notes

electronicwitchcollection · 6 months

Text

~*Shuhei Hisagi smut*~

Not my best, longest or most descriptive work. I needed to just get something out there to get my mind off Grimmjow for a while 😂

hope you’ll enjoy, regardless

"what in the seven hells is that?" You mutter in disbelief at the strange machine Shuhei was circling, huge grin plastered over his handsome face. The unusual contraption was comprised of shiny metal and black leather, sat atop two very large black wheels. You've never seen anything like it in soul society before

"A motorbike" he caught your eye, his own shining with child like glee you hadn't seen there in so long. The "motorbike" was huge, black leather seat and polished chrome pipes up the sides. The handle bars were up high, spread wide as the metal gleamed in the sun light.

You joined him in admiring the unusual machinery, the polished curves, the large round wheels looking midnight black against the white stone floor. "How did you even get it here?" You asked bemused, watching guilt flash over his handsome face. His cheeks flushed a brilliant red, fingers raking through his jet black hair as he opened and closed his mouth, searching for a suitable explanation

"on second thoughts, I don't wanna know" you chuckle. Clearly he had obtained the large motorbike under less than ideal circumstances, being kept in the dark seemed like the safer option for you.

"it's for the best, the less you know.." he trailed off with a half hearted shoulder shrug. His eyes were glued to the bike, strong hand smoothing over the leather appreciatively. You watched as he threw his leg over the machine, straddling the bike between his strong thighs. His hands trailed up the smooth metal of the handle bars before gripping the black rubber handles

"you want to come for a ride?" He turned to give you that half quirked smile that had your heart racing. He patted the small space on the seat behind him invitingly, leaving one arm hanging loosely on the handle

"do you even know how to use this thing?" You asked dubiously, hesitating to mount the unknown contraption. They didn't have these here in soul society, how much did Shuhei really know about these machines?

"of course I do, I've ridden it a whole bunch of times". He smiled brightly, slight boastful tone in his deep voice. He looked confident, prideful even. You thought it suited him immensely, he looked hot, straddling the metal beast with a look of total control. He held out his hand to you, encouraging you closer "Trust me, I'll keep you safe"

Throwing caution to the wind, you accepted his hand. It was warm, calloused by hours of intense training, years of perfecting his fighting style. He squeezed your fingers gently as you stood next to the bike, the biggest grin plastered on his face. He guided your hand up to his shoulder, easy leverage for you to swing your leg over behind him. You squeezed into the small space, front pressed up against his hard back.

Your breath caught in your throat as his hands smoothed up your thighs. He grabbed hold of your hands, pulling them to wrap around his middle, eliminating any space between you. "Hold on to me, we're gunna go fast" You intertwined your fingers, keeping them secure around his middle, heart thumping in your chest in anticipation.

Shuhei shuffled on the seat to get comfortable before turning the key. The machine roared to life, a deep, loud rumble so unlike anything you had ever heard. It sounded like thunder rolling in. The whole motorbike shook with aggressive vibrations, igniting a spark in your most intimate area. Your gasp was drowned out by the metallic beasts roar, legs kept splayed open by the width of the seat, at mercy to the tingling sensations spreading though your whole body

"Hold tight!" Shuhei shouted over the thunderous noise, pulling on the throttle and lurching you both forward. You yelped startled, clinging onto Shuhei as tightly as you could as the scenery whizzed passed you in a blur of colour. Wind whipped your hair around your face, the speed taking your breath away. You buried your head between his shoulder blades. Willing your rapidly beating heart to calm down . You smile at hearing him give a whoop of excitement, pushing the bike faster through the streets of soul society.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins, a rush of euphoric endorphins surged though you as you pushed yourself closer to the body you were clinging to. You tilted your head to the side, taking in the fast ride, embracing the thrill. It was amazing, almost felt like you were flying. You heard Shuhei whoop again, prompting you to join in with your own proclamation of joy.

You didn't know how Shuhei controlled the bike so precisely, weaving between Shinigami walking through the streets, taking corners at impossible speeds. When travelling down a long stretch of road, Shuhei pulled back tightly, lifting the back onto one wheel. You screamed startled, fingers digging into his clothes for fear of falling off. You could hear his chuckle as he landed the bike back down, a screeching noise cutting through the roar as the airborne wheel hit the ground.

You started to relax behind him, peering over his shoulder to take in the fast acceleration, commit it all to memory. You were coming to a cross roads when someone suddenly cut through your path, pulling a large wooden wagon behind them. The man pulling the cart stopped, wide eyed at the machine barrelling towards him at a rapid rate. Shuhei reacted quick, taking a sharp turn down an alley to avoid collision. The man's angry shouts followed you down the alley way.

The momentum had the bike shaking violently, loosing control on the dirt path. Shuhei used all his strength to try and straighten the bike, roughly bouncing over the rough terrain. Fear quickly dominated you, a silent scream caught in your voice as you saw what lay ahead. A solid brick wall littered with empty carts. To your absolute horror, Shuhei sped up the bike, head straight for the inevitable collision "Shuhei!" You scream out, screwing your eyes shut as you braved for impact

"hold on!" He Hollered back, jerking the handle bars up over the lip of one of the carts, shooting straight over it and over the wall. You were airborne for what seemed like forever, stomach shifting inside of you at the sudden drop. The bike hit the floor hard, kicking up grass as it's wheels spun impossibly fast over the smooth surface . It shook and rattled over the bumpy field, screaming loudly in protest. You felt the bike jerk to the side, gliding over the grass before coming to a sudden halt.

The engine ticked over as you both sat there in stunned silence. Your whole body trembled with adrenaline at the near crash, limps shaking in there frozen grip around Shuheis stomach. He killed the bike, rumble quieting in an instant, allowing you to hear the muffled sound of your own heat hammering in your ears. The vibration stopped, your whole bottom half felt numb at the loss.

You were both breathing hard, unbelieving that you had survived that whole ordeal unscathed. Shuhei gently peeled your arms from around him, awkwardly manoeuvring his legs over the bike to turn and face you. His thighs trapped yours between them, hand tilted up your face to look into your wide eyes "are you hurt? Are you okay?"

He asked you slightly panicked, face paled with concern. You shake your head no, unable yet to form any coherent words. You felt like electricity was surging through your body, you were too hot and impossibly cold all at the same time. Shivers raked through your body, overwhelmed with contradictory emotions. Fear was slowly leaving your body, a strange sense of empowerment creeping in.

You couldn't think, only feel, only act. You lean in quickly, pressing your lips over his in a hurried kiss. The adrenaline mixed with the phantom feeling of the vibrations between your legs had you unexplainably turned on. You needed the thrill to continue, needed some out left for your jittery nerves. Shuhei's eyes widened as you kissed him,stunned, before surging into the kiss. His hand went to the back of your head, pushing you closer in your desperate kiss. It was messy and rough, desperate in the way you slammed together.

Shuhei forced his tongue into your mouth, hungrily tasting as much of you as he could. With frenzied desperation you match his energy, twirling your tongues together, teeth nipping at his lips. When you parted it was simultaneous, each breathing hard as you stared at eachother in unspoken conversation. Your eyes were wild with need, his dark with hungry lust.

You met him again in a bruising kiss, hands between you working his clothes off of his upper body. His hands went around your ass, pulling you forward to sit on his growing erection. You pushed away the offending garments, hands smoothing over his broad chest and wide shoulders. Shuhei groaned into your mouth, leaving your chasing lips to lavishly kiss your neck, hands kneading the plump flesh of your ass.

Head thrown back you moaned into the open sky, rolling your hips over his hidden cock, feeling the ridged length under your covered core. Shuhei licked and nipped at your neck, finding the most sensitive area he started to suck. You let your hands slide over his chest, dropping to your own obi and untying the knot. Tilting your head to allow more access you unwrapped your top, letting it fall off your arms behind you and revealed your naked breasts.

Your nipples instantly hardened, exposed in the open air. Shuhei released your neck with a wet pop, cheeks darkening at the vision of your exposed breasts, dusky pink nipples erect and begging for attention. He dipped his head, securing one pert nipple in his mouth as the other was cupped by his hand. The combination of his hot, swirling tongue and his large hand firmly cupping your breast had you delirious with arousal.

You leaned back, one hand supporting your weight and the other getting lost in his hair, keeping him at your breasts. Spikes of pleasure rushed straight to your clenching pussy, arousal dampening your panties. You needed more, needed the full stretch of his cock being buried inside you, the explosion of release. With a tug of his hair you pull his head back, his neck was strained, Adam's apple protruding deliciously.

You take advantage of the angle, kissing your way up his neck to reclaim his lips. He didn't allow you to remain in control, removing your hand from his hair, he placed it on his throbbing cock, making your fingers trail up the length of it, feel the girth. You palmed him over his trousers, hips circling on the leather seat, trying to find friction on your swollen clit.

Shuhei breathed heavily through his nose, dominating your mouth with his skilful tongue. He pulled away with fire in his eyes"take off your pants, now" he commanded you darkly, starting to rid himself of his own clothing. It was awkward, but you managed to kick off the rest of your clothes, leaving them crumpled on the grass below. Shuhei planted his feet either side of the bike, long, heavy cock standing proud between his open thighs, bead of cum leaking from the tip and sliding down the length of his veiny cock.

Another day, another time, you would've liked to lick it off, swallow his cock and bring him to the brink with your mouth alone. Now, you were too far gone, too flustered to do anything other than sink onto that cock and ride yourself to completion. Shuhei seemed to be as desperate as you, as he grabbed you by the hips and pulled you forward.

You wrapped your legs around his waist as he lifted you by your hips, guiding you down his hot length in one fluid motion. You gasp at the full stretch, head falling to Shuhei's shoulder as you accommodate the large intrusion. Shuhei dug his fingers into your hips, struggling to keep still long enough for you to adjust. Your tight, wet heat felt incredible, squeezing around his shaft.

Your arms wrap around his neck, rolling your hips the best you could, having no purchase for your legs. Shuhei groaned at the friction, hands sliding down your ass, using his strong arms to lift you up his length and pulling you back down the the hilt. He set a punishing rhythm, slamming you repeatedly onto his cock, chasing that incredible high that could only be achieved by an earth shattering orgasm.

You felt like you were on fire, burning for every inch you were forcefully sat upon. The angle had you feeling every rigid inch, stretching you intoxicatingly. You were dripping your arousal down the length, every thrust of Shuhei's hips gliding through your throbbing cunt.

"Shuhei" you moaned wantonly into his neck, fingernails leaving Cresent shape indents into his strong shoulders as you struggled to match his pace, hips bucking erratically with every slam of his cock. Shuhei grunted with exertion, strong thighs shaking with the awkwardness of the position, yet couldn't pull himself away from your impossibly tight, wet heat to change positions.

"you feel amazing" he purred next to your ear, thrusting deep, pulling a sweet moan from your lips "just keep riding me babe" he encouraged you to continue to roll your hips as his hands stopped dragging you up and down his cock. You ground yourself down onto him, searching for the right spot that'll have you seeing stars. You felt so erotic, riding Shuhei out in the open, mounted on this metallic beast where anyone could stumble upon you.

Your head was thrown back as a keening moan ripped through your throat, the head of Shuhei's cock bumping over your gspot. Keeping the angle to desperately ground against it, pleasure surging through your body. Shuhei dipped his head to the swell of your breasts, leaving sloppy kisses over your flushed skin as his hands kneaded over your ass, squeezing appreciatively at the fleshy globes.

You were getting tired, body trembling with the strength you used to keep yourself up. "Shuhei, I can't.." you whine, hip movements becoming weaker, the adrenaline was slowly leaving you, making you feel weak. Shuhei captured your mouth in a searing kiss, running his tongue over your lips, asking entry. You open them willingly, meeting his tongue in a sensual dance.

Shuhei stood from the bike, bringing you up with him effortlessly. Carefully he laid you down, keeping himself buried within you. He refused to break the kiss, determined to map out every inch of your mouth. You wrapped your legs around his waist, hands roaming over his smooth back as he plundered your mouth. His hands caressed up your sides, sneaking between you to cup the generous weight of your breasts. Thumbs flicking over your sensitive nipples.

When oxygen became necessary, he reluctantly withdrew, standing to his full height, feet planted either side of the bike you were laid down on. He started rutting into you slowly, savouring the feel of your velvety walls squeezing around his cock. His hands found purchase on your hips, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His thrusting became faster, increasing in intensity

He looked down, eyes darkening at the sight of your greedy pussy swallowing him hole, your arousal wetting his dick glistened in the bright sunlight. Your moans were beautiful, unrestrained, letting him know how good he was making you feel. It was feeding his ego beyond words, spurring him on in his mission to get you cuming all over his cock. "You like that?" He asked you, voice dropping in pitch as he watched your face contort in pleasure, mouth parted prettily with constant moans.

You nodded desperately, hands coming up behind your head to grip onto the leather seat, needing something to stabilise you as you spiralled into bliss. He was relentlessly hitting your pleasure spot with every precise thrust. "Tell me," he panted, watching your breasts jiggle enticingly with every snap of his hips. He sought out your clit, rubbing tight circles with his thumb over the sensitive bud. You cried out at the extra stimulation, eyes slamming shut. "Tell me how good it feels"

"so good, Shuhei." You whined, struggling not to become delirious as your orgasm quickly approached "please Shuhei, gunna cum" Shuhei started to sweat, doubling his efforts to fuck into you. He could feel his balls tightening, clear indication he was reaching his peak. He needed you to cum first, wanted to feel you tighten on his cock as you soaked him with your arousal

"you gunna cum for me, good girl?" The dirty talk was making you impossibly hot, never having expecting it from Shuhei, who was genuinely very sweet and respectful "your pretty little pussy gonna squirt all over my cock?"

You were beyond forming any words, simply nodding frantically as pleasure overwhelmed you. You were teetering on the edge, moments away from plunging into euphoria. "Come then, come all over my cock" that was the extra push you needed to tumble into your orgasm. Impossibly powerful spikes of pleasure ripped through your body as you came, screaming noncommittal at the blinding feelings coursing though your body. You came hard, arousal gushing wetly from your cunt as it clenched around the veiny cock erratically pumping into you.

Shuhei swore as you clenched around him, unable to hold out with the vice like grip you had on his dick. He choked on his own exclamation of euphoric bliss as he came hard, hot spurts of ejaculate costing your rippling walls, milking him of every drop. He fell forward, laying on you heavily. His head nestled into the crook of your neck, panting wetly into your skin as his mind buzzed from his climax.

You stared up to the pale blue sky in wonderment. You couldn't believe that had just happened. The speed of the bike, nearly crashing into a wall followed by the most desperate sex you've ever had. Shuhei pulled himself from your neck to look down at your face. He gave you a crooked smile which you returned before giggling at the absurdity of the situation. Shuhei's deep chuckle joined yours, his body shaking over yours.

He slowly sat up, pulling his cock free from your wet centre, to sit back on the bike. He pulled you up by your hand, hands dropping to your waist to keep you steady. Shuhei leaned in, kissing you sweetly, lips ghosting over your own when a rough voice made you both jump.

"what the hell do you think you are doing Hisagi?!"

Shuhei's captain was standing a few feat away from you, arms crossed over his exposed chest with a pissed look on his face. Captain Muguruma watched as you squealed with embarrassment, pushing yourself into Shuhei to hide as much of your nakedness as you could, burying your flaming red face into his chest

"Captain." Hisagi choked out, face darkening as red as your own, mind spluttering for an explanation. He reached down to the ground, grabbing his top to drape over you and hide your frame for his captains murderous gaze "I can explain"

"My office, now." Kensei turned to march back to his office, leaving the pair to dress and follow him. Not only had his lieutenant smuggled something in from the world of the living, he had nearly run over about four shinigami who had already put in complains, caused havoc and left black marks all over the street floors. He then decided to have sex on said smuggled artefact in the middle of a very public field. He could already feel the headache coming on from all the paperwork "Fucking idiots "

#bleach #bleach fanfiction #bleach smut #shuhei hisagi #hisagi smut #shuhei x reader #shuhei smut

93 notes · View notes

renecdote · 10 months

Text

inertia

“Eddie.” He feels his mouth form the word, feels the vibration of it in his throat, but he can’t hear his own voice. It’s dark. Is it supposed to be dark? Yes—it was night. He was with Eddie. “Eddie,” Buck repeats, fumbling one-handed, fighting against the airbag, the seatbelt, the claustrophobia pressing in on him. He has to get out. He has to get to Eddie. He’s trapped. He can’t move—can’t—his leg—nonono, not again, not again, please— For BTHB: vehicular accident

[Read on AO3]

More than anything, Buck remembers the noise: the roar of the engine, a car horn, the squeal of tires, his heart pounding in his ears. Sirens, minutes and seconds later, and someone cursing at him before they got there, “you should look where you’re fucking going, fucking asshole motorbike riders—”

He knows that it hurt, his jeans shredded over bloody skin, his lip split, his arm broken in two places, every inch of him bruised and aching. He knows that it hurt because of course it did, it was probably agonising right up until the morphine kicked in, but he doesn’t remember the pain.

He wonders, now, how he ever could have forgotten it.

****

Eddie reaches out, fiddling with the radio until he finds a station he likes, then turning the volume up just one digit, as if that makes any kind of difference.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

Buck shoots him a grin. “I told you: it’s a surprise.”

Eddie huffs, the same way he did the first four times he asked and got the same answer. “I hate surprises.”

“No, you don’t,” Buck laughs. “You just want everyone to think you hate surprises because you get embarrassingly gooey about them.”

The flash of a passing streetlight shows Eddie’s face cast in exaggerated affront. “Gooey,” he repeats. “I don’t—I’m not gooey, Buck.”

He is. Buck has the photos and videos to prove it.

“Don’t worry, Eds,” he says. “I think you’re cute when you’re gooey.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he turns his head and rubs at his cheek in a way that means he’s probably hiding a pleased little smile. It’s still new: making Eddie smile like that. Going on dates. Holding hands, and sneaking kisses in-between the engines, and waking up wrapped around each other. Buck wishes he could hit pause on every moment between them, just so he can live in it a little bit longer.

He slows down for a yellow light, coming to a stop as it turns red.

“Can you at least give me a clue?” Eddie tries.

“Nope,” Buck laughs. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” Eddie grumbles.

The light turns green.

Buck accelerates into the intersection.

Eddie’s eyes widen in alarm, a shout forming but never making it past his lips, his hand half raised like he can—what?

Buck never even sees the crash coming.

****

The Jeep is still registered in Maddie’s name. That’s Buck’s first thought when the tires skid on the icy road, adrenaline suddenly pumping hard and fast as he grips the wheel. He’s going to end up wrapped around a tree, the Jeep totalled, and it’s going to be Maddie’s problem because the car is still registered in her name.

He has a sudden flash of memory: his mom standing in the doorway, yelling at him not to run, snow cold and wet soaking through the mesh in his sneakers as he ran to the bus stop down the road. She never came with him. It was always Maddie who held his hand while they walked, heavy backpacks bouncing on their shoulders, but his mom stood in the doorway of their house and watched until the doors of the school bus closed behind them.

Buck wonders who will tell his parents that he’s dead. Wonders how they’ll react. They’ll probably be glad, he thinks. And then he feels like an asshole for thinking that. (But can’t stop thinking it.)

The Jeep is slipping, slipping, slipping.

Buck fights the gut-reaction to twist the wheel hard, arms locked tight as he holds it steady, foot off the gas, braking carefully, carefully, carefully.

The road around him is dark. Empty. The Jeep’s headlights reflect off a sign: ICE in bold letters below the squiggly black lines of a skidding car. Hysterical, adrenaline-tinged laughter bubbles in Buck’s chest. Too little too late, he thinks. He turns the wheel left and the back of the car swings to the right and—

Another hundred yards and he would have been sinking into an icy river. Would have been dead, probably, pulled out in his Jeep hours or days later, his body cold and blue. He’s lucky, really, that the snowbank got to him first.

****

His ears are ringing.

There’s a little voice in the back of his head—the same voice that points out emergency exits and fire extinguishers whenever he goes somewhere new—that reminds him that it’s normal, that it probably just means the airbags deployed. But it’s hard to hear anything through the ringing, including the voice in his own head. Buck fights against the disorientation, the pain, the starbursts of light in his vision, the high-pitched whine in his ears and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He wonders, for three disoriented seconds, whether he’s back in the tsunami: turned around and upside down, caught in a whirlpool beyond his control, can’t win, can’t breathe, can’t swim.

But there’s blood in his mouth.

There’s blood in his mouth, and he clawed his way out of that ocean, clawed at the muddy ground, and Eddie got shot in the street in broad daylight, and—

“Eddie.”

He feels his mouth form the word, feels the vibration of it in his throat, but he can’t hear his own voice. It’s dark. Is it supposed to be dark? Yes—it was night. He was with Eddie.

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, fumbling one-handed, fighting against the airbag, the seatbelt, the claustrophobia pressing in on him. He has to get out. He has to get to Eddie. He’s trapped. He can’t move—can’t—his leg—nonono, not again, not again, please—

Something touches him.

Someone.

Hand on his thigh, squeezing, pulling his focus. Eddie. Buck’s right shoulder is throbbing—dislocated, maybe, minimum four weeks off work, light duty for another month—and he wants nothing more than to hold Eddie’s hand, to tangle their fingers together and squeeze (I’m okay, we’re okay, it’s gonna be okay), but the angle is all wrong and he can’t get his left arm across his body to do it.

His neck hurts, too—everything hurts—and that little first responder voice is still in the back of his head—don’t move, wait for the paramedics—but he turns his head anyway, searching for Eddie in the darkness.

There you are, Eddie’s smile seems to say.

Blue and red blur across Buck’s vision, pain streaking through his head, and he has to close his eyes against the rush of nausea it brings.

Eddie’s hand squeezes his leg again. Stay awake, maybe. Or I’ve got you, we’re okay.

Buck never should have closed his eyes. Can’t get them open again. Red-blue-Eddie-pain flash behind his eyelids.

He’s unconscious again before the firefighters pull them out.

****

Buck doesn’t remember most of the truck bombing. He watched the news clip twice after he got home from the hospital, pieced together all the comments people made until they formed some kind of coherent picture, guessed at the rest of it from everything else he’s seen on the job. He knows Eddie held his hand. Knows he was trapped there for almost thirty minutes before they got him out. Knows that it’s probably a good thing that he doesn’t remember all the details. The night is all blurred colours, and fear, and the strangest feeling of being weighed down and floating at the same time.

It felt like that in the hospital afterwards too, the cast on his leg bulky and heavy, a weight more than physical, and the painkillers cushioning his mind from all of it.

“You’re lucky,” a doctor told him, scrawling notes on his chart. “Most people don’t walk away from something like that.”

Buck laughed, short and brittle, halfway to a sob. “I’m not walking, doc. I can’t even stand.”

“Yet.” The doctor had the nerve to smile as he said it. “We’ll get you there.”

Buck was only thinking about getting back to work, then.

Now he wakes up in the hospital and he’s back there for one half-conscious moment, his leg his first thought, panic washing through him, his breath sticking in his chest. A doctor leans over him, mouth moving as they ask him muffled questions, his ears aching, head aching, everything aching.

“Don’t take my leg,” Buck begs, his own voice echoing in his chest.

The lights are bright and the doctor is still talking, maybe to him, maybe to someone else, but it doesn’t matter. Buck can’t hear them anyway.

He slips back under.

Wakes up again minutes or hours later to find someone else beside the bed. Short-cropped brown hair, but the wrong shade. The wrong face attached to it. A question catches in the back of Buck’s throat—Eddie? Is Eddie okay?—and comes out as a groan, pain waking up with the rest of him, his body stiff and sore at the slightest movement.

Bobby’s head snaps up, one hand going for the call button, the other for Buck’s arm. “Hey. Hey, easy, kid, you’re okay, you’re in the hospital.”

Buck blinks and finds his lashes sticking together, tears welling up before he even knows why he feels like crying.

“Eddie is okay too,” Bobby adds, reading it on his face. “He’s better off than you are—mostly superficial cuts and bruises, possible cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, whiplash—they’re just keeping an eye on him until they can run some more tests to be sure.”

It should be a relief, hearing it from Bobby, but Buck knows the vice around his chest isn’t going to ease fully until he can see Eddie for himself. Maybe not even then, honestly, since it’s at least half from the broken ribs he’s nursing.

“You’re both gonna be fine,” Bobby says, and it’s hard to tell through the fog of painkillers, but it sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as Buck.

****

The wave comes fast and hard, knocking the breath out of him, sending him tumbling. Buck tries to hold onto his surfboard, but it slips away from him, the cord velcroed to his ankle the only thing tethering them together while the ocean does it’s best to tear them apart.

He gets his head above the surface, gets one gasping breath of air, and then the board pops up and slams into his jaw. He goes under. Comes back up coughing and spluttering, his face throbbing. He doesn’t get a full breath in this time before another waves lifts him up and then bowls over him. It’s easier not to fight it. Easier to hold his breath and let it take him.

A hand around his bicep drags him back up. Drags him into the shallows and then further, onto the damp edge of the beach.

“Jesus, Buckley,” Andy exclaims, halfway to nervous, adrenaline-fueled laughter. “I really thought you were dead for a minute there.”

Buck grins, tired and squinting against the bright San Diego sun, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, right? He’s supposed to laugh and shake this off and get right back out there.

“I wasn’t worried,” he lies, and Andy does laugh this time.

“You’re a crazy sonuvabitch, you know that?” he says. Then he’s twisting, turning to yell at someone behind him, “He’s fine, Lila! The asshole says he wasn’t even worried!”

Lila kisses Buck later, her purple nails biting in at his hips, beer heavy on both their breaths. A fire crackles in the backyard and party music thrums in the walls of the house when she says, “I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you, Evan.”

Buck’s chest feels tight, his stomach bubbly, his jaw bruised and aching, but he holds Lila close and kisses her back, gives her everything she wants, even when being kissed on the cheek and left to zip up his pants afterwards feels just like that surfboard popping up out of the water to smack him in the face. It’s supposed to hurt after all. Being wanted. Being loved. It always hurts. Isn’t that how he knows that it’s real?

****

“You’re like a car crash, Buckley,” Jai tells him. “It’s all fast and fun until we end up wrapped around a tree.”

****

“You need to be more careful,” his mother snaps, as close as she has ever come to sounding like she cares. “You’re going to get someone killed one of these days.”

****

“You’re both gonna be fine,” Bobby says.

Gonna be fine gonna be fine gonna be fine.

****

Buck is awake when Eddie sneaks into the hospital room.

Half-awake.

Morning light is pressing in insistently behind the blinds someone pulled down over the window and there’s an itch right near the IV port in his elbow that he’s trying not to think about. Buck’s eyes are closed, but he listens to the shuffle of feet on the linoleum, the plastic groan of the chair beside the bed and the quiet, familiar sigh as his boyfriend settles into it. All he has wanted since finding himself in the hospital is to see Eddie, but now that Eddie is here, Buck doesn’t think he’s ready to face him.

His elbow itches. Buck tires not to grimace.

Eddie reaches out and takes his hand, warmth curling around Buck’s cold fingers. “I know you’re awake,” he says, thumb moving on the back of Buck’s hand.

Slowly, Buck opens his eyes, painkillers cushioning the ache in his neck as he turns his head on the pillow. He has to blink a few times before the room comes into focus: tired eyes, short-cropped hair, right shade of brown this time.

“Hey,” Eddie smiles. “There you are.”

Eddie looks—okay. A little bruised, a little battered, but okay. Buck takes a shaky breath and feels it fill up his lungs for the first time since that car slammed into them. Hey, he thinks, and then he opens his mouth and what comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

A watery laugh; the kind that means something isn’t really funny but the only options are to laugh or cry. “I shouldn’t be surprised that those are your first words,” Eddie says, and his smile is watery too but it’s also—fond. So fond it hurts to look at. “This wasn’t your fault, Buck.”

Buck knows that. Logically, he knows that. But.

“I’m still sorry.”

Eddie lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles, holding Buck there against his lips as he answers, “I know.”

“You’re okay?” Buck asks—needs to ask—blinking through the tears in his eyes. “Bobby said you broke your wrist.”

Eddie lifts his left arm up to show off the cast. “Clean break, no surgery required. One fractured rib. Whiplash. The rest of it is just cuts and bruises.”

Buck has to bite his lip so he doesn’t apologise again.

“We’re okay, Buck,” Eddie adds, soft and steady, and Buck knew they were, he thought he did, but hearing the words puts a lump in his throat anyway.

“The light was green,” he says, and he’d been sure, so sure, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was distracted. He knows he can be a reckless driver, but Eddie was in the car and he was smiling and Buck would never—

“The other driver went straight through the red,” Eddie confirms, soothing his doubts as easily as he caresses Buck’s hand with his thumb. “Bobby said it was a heat attack. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Buck thinks about that sign in Wisconsin: ICE. He wonders whether they’ve moved it, put the warning somewhere earlier on the road. Wonders whether it would have made any difference, seeing that sign before the tires started skidding.

He wants to ask if the other driver made it, but he’s not sure he actually wants to know.

“‘M still not telling you where we were going,” he says instead, fighting against the droop of his eyes. “Being t-boned doesn’t get you out of the surprise.”

“It wasn’t a steakhouse, was it?” Eddie asks.

A laugh catches Buck by surprise, spasming through his bruised chest, and he breaks off with a groaning, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” Eddie apologises, squeezing his hand. “How’s your pain? Do you need more painkillers?”

“‘S’okay,” Buck answers, shifting and feeling all the ways his body protests. “I’ve had worse.”

Edie shakes his head. That’s not a measure of pain, Evan, Maddie would say. Buck can see it on Eddie’s face too, but he just says, “Okay. Why don’t you get some rest?”

He shifts up, slowly and painfully, leaning forward until he can kiss Buck’s forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. Buck curls his fingers into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket, holding him there to kiss him again. Eddie relaxes into it, kissing back easily, his weight a comfortable heaviness against Buck’s tired body.

“I love you,” he murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck smiles. “I love you too.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

It hurts to shake his head, but Buck does it anyway. “No, you should go home—you should see Chris—”

Eddie stops him with another kiss. “Chris told me I have to stay with you. Pepa is looking after him, he’s okay.”

That lump is back in Buck’s throat, harder to breathe around this time. He’s not sure what he did to deserve the Diaz boys. He isn’t sure that he does deserve them, half the time, but here they are anyway. They want him—they love him—and it doesn’t hurt. That’s how Buck knows it’s real.

When he sleeps, he dreams of driving across a frozen lake, Eddie smiling in the passenger seat and Christopher laughing in the back. The sunlight is bright and clear and he thinks there’s a monster chasing them under the ice, threatening to break through and drag them into the murky depths, but it never catches them.

****

Buck’s arm flies out on instinct, pressing Christopher back into the seat while the car jerks to a sudden stop.

“Whoa.” Christopher’s eyes are wide behind his glasses. “That was close.”

Buck’s heart is racing in his chest, his hands shaking with the frissons of adrenaline running through his body. He breathes a shaky laugh, more relief than amusement. “Too close. Don’t tell your dad.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “As if you aren’t going to tell him as soon as we get home.”

The kid has a point, but.

“Maybe I’ve decided to start keeping secrets.”

“About almost being in a car crash?” Chris asks skeptically.

The car in front of them inches forward and Buck lets the gap grow before he eases his own accelerator down.

“Almost is the key word there,” he tells Chris, lighter than he feels. He’s still jittery, hyperaware of every sound, every glint of sunlight on metal that might be a car about to t-bone them or rear-end them or cause an accident in a million other ways. Buck knows car accidents. He knows what it’s like to cause them, to get caught in them, to respond to them. He knows that, statistically, it’s likely Chris will be in some kind of accident at some point in his life. He really, really doesn’t want to be the reason that happens though.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says, attention back on his phone, completely unconcerned, “LA has one of the highest accident rates in the country so it probably wouldn’t even be your fault.”

Buck frowns. “Why do you know that?”

“You and dad were in a car accident last year,” Chris shrugs, like the answer should have been obvious. “I looked it up.”

Eddie isn’t in the car with them, but Buck can hear his voice clear as day in his head: he gets that from you, you know.

“Okay,” he says, “definitely don’t tell your dad you’ve been reading about car crash statistics. You know what he was like with the Zodiac killer stuff.”

Chris grins. “He was so mad at you.”

They’re at a standstill again. Buck takes the opportunity to throw Chris a betrayed look. “I seem to remember him being pretty mad at you too, kid.”

He can feel himself relaxing, heart rate coming down and tension draining out his shoulders. Chris is fine. They’re both fine. Another fifteen minutes and they’ll be home. He flicks on the indicator then checks his blind spot twice before changing lanes as the traffic breaks out of the bottleneck and starts moving again. The blue Toyota they almost ran into turns into another street and disappears.

“So,” an impish smile in his peripheral vision, “if I’m keeping secrets from dad, does that mean we can have ice cream for dinner?”

Buck laughs. “Nice try.”

The engine is a steady rumble, its vibration passing through the wheel and up his arms, settling in his chest. Christopher reaches out and skips to the next song on the driving playlist. Sunlight glints off a stop sign. Somewhere behind them, a car honks.

Buck breathes in. Breathes out.

They make it home in thirteen minutes.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #fic #badthingshappenbingo

130 notes · View notes

lilaccrxsh · 2 years

Text

Fight and Fall in Love - 1986!Pete "Maverick" Mitchell x F!Reader (18+)

Description: You and Pete Mitchell had mutual friends in the Bradshaw's, but whenever you were together all you would do is argue and rile the other person up. That was until Carole decided something had to be done...

Content warnings: unprotected sex, enemies to lovers, arguing, “there was only one bed”, 100% self-indulgence from the author

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: Honestly guys, this was just incredibly self-indulgent. Unfortunately, young TC/1986!Mav is literally my perfect type so I'm blaming everything on that. *posts this and runs*

Thank you to @unmistakablyunknown for being my beta and removing my dyslexia from the google doc <3

You had known Carole Bradshaw before she even became Carole Bradshaw. You’d been friends since middle school, growing up and facing all of the adventures life throws at you together. When she met Nick, or “Goose”, you were her maid of honour at their wedding. Carole was really one of your closest friends.

“Have you decided what you want to do for your birthday?” Goose was sitting with his arm around his wife, her smaller body curled into the side of him on the sofa. Bradley was asleep upstairs, so the house was silent and dark apart from the talking and images from the tiny television.

“I think I just want something nice and small. Maybe just have friends over for dinner. Bradley can be involved then too.” Carole replied.

“I like the sound of that. Who would you want to come?”

“I was thinking… just Y/N and Mav.”

Goose peered down at Goose, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Why? I thought you wanted your birthday to be ‘nice’.”

Carole laughed softly. “It will be. We need to get those two together in the same room so they can finally get over themselves.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“It’s so obvious that they’re attracted to each other.” Carole said plainly, “Whenever we all meet they can’t stop looking at the other constantly. They clearly like each other, they just don’t know what to do about it.”

“Y/N and Mav!?”

“Yup.”

“But all they do is argue with each other?”

“Exactly.”

Carole just watched her husband as the penny dropped for him.

“Oh…”

“Uh-huh, so I think it’s only fair if we give them a little nudge, don’t you think?”

“You’re the boss, honey.” Goose pressed a kiss to her hairline. “What did you have in mind?”

~~~

You pulled onto the Bradshaw’s drive just as the roar of a motorbike engine cut off behind you. You didn’t even need to look in your rear view mirror to know who had just parked their bike right behind your bumper.

For a moment you considered not even leaving your car. If this wasn’t for Carole’s birthday, you might have done. It would have been easy to just reverse back onto the road, even if you did take out the motorbike in the process. You didn’t dislike the sound of that. The only downside was damage to your car.

There was no point sitting there behind the wheel any longer. You grabbed your overnight bag off the passenger seat and climbed out. Standing before you was the one person you were hoping not to see tonight.

Pete Mitchell looked exactly the same as the last time you’d met. Aviators covered his eyes, making his expression unreadable, his dark hair was still cut short for the navy, and he was wearing that patch-covered bomber jacket that was at least one size too big for him. Light washed jeans, a white T-shirt and that bomber jacket - was that all he ever wore?

There was an awkward moment before anyone spoke. You just stood staring at each other.

“No one told me you were coming.” Pete’s tone was neutral, apart from an underlying hint of annoyance.

“No one told me you were coming.” You repeated.

Again another moment of silence. You were the one to break it, slamming your car door closed and locking it. You stalked past him, marching up to the front door. Pete reached your side as you knocked on the door. You purposely stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

When Carole opened the door, she seemed shocked but strangely delighted, to see you two standing together on her doorstep. You were welcomed inside, it was nice to be back at the Bradshaw’s again.

Soon you found yourself standing in the hallway conjoining the living room and kitchen. Carole was busy going back and forth.

“Why didn’t you say he was coming?” You hissed at her, stepping aside so she could walk past you with a bowl.

“Would you have still come?” Carole raised her eyebrows at you, a twinkle in her eyes.

“Yes, because I love you, but I would have liked a bit of warning.”

“Oh come on, Y/N. Maverick isn’t that bad. He’s really great if you get to know him.”

“I think I already know enough…” Everytime you and Pete Mitchell were in the vicinity of each other it didn’t end wonderfully. One of you would end up taunting the other, resulting in a battle of wit and cynicism. No-one ever seemed to win. The residing dislike just seemed to continue to the next meeting.

The man in question was too distracted at the moment to bother that you were standing in the doorway. He was crouched down, sitting back on his heels to fiddle around with little Bradley’s toy trains. The kid laughed as Pete imitated the sound of a train starting off, pushing it along the carpet as if it was chasing the engine Bradley was holding.

“How can you dislike him, Y/N?” Carole was smiling widely, enjoying her husband’s best friend having a beautiful relationship with their son. You opted not to answer her. At that minute, you couldn’t conjugate a proper retort. In front of you was a side to Pete Mitchell that you hadn’t seen before - fun-loving and carefree. He’d always seemed put-out and on the offensive with you in the past. You wondered what it would be like to have a nice and pleasant conversation with him for once…

You only realised you’d been lost in thought, transfixed on the sight before you when Carole nudged your arm. She wore a knowing smile.

“Help me with dinner?”

~~~

The plan Carole had concocted involved you, Pete, and her guest bedroom. Her one guest room.

So when the two of you were led into the guest room, the door closed behind you, you found yourselves on the same side… of one double bed.

“This isn’t going to work.”

“I’m actually going to agree with you.”

Pete was the first to move from the doorway, scoping out the rest of the room and analysing the bed. There was no couch or anything alike.

“Pete look, I’m not exactly delighted by this either.”

He ignored what you’d said, instead rounding on you and asking a completely different question.

"Why do you always call me 'Pete'? No one calls me that."

"Because that's your name, idiot. I'm not one of your flying buddies so why would I call you anything else."

Pete just shrugged, but the hard set of his jaw didn’t relax. Did he want you to call him Maverick? It seemed an odd way of showing so.

"It's the night before Carole's birthday, are you really going to make a fuss?"

He huffed, but conceded, dramatically throwing his bag onto the floor near the door.

"I want the left side." Pete stalked over to the bed before flopping down on top of the covers, spreading out his legs the length of the bed and putting his hands behind his head. He pushed his aviators down over his eyes and then was silent.

You stood, also still and silent, wondering whether or not you would be able to survive the night. But as you had said, both you and Pete were here for a reason and you both cared enough to not cause a scene.

"I'm going to the bathroom." You told him, collecting your wash bag and sleepwear from your backpack. You received only an uncaring grunt from the man who you were meant to share a bed with tonight.

You spent a decent amount of time out of the room in the hope that when you returned, Pete would have changed and maybe, if you were lucky, be asleep.

Luck was not completely on your side.

He had changed, or well, removed items of clothing. His bomber jacket and white t-shirt were laying in a heap by his bag. The only thing Pete was wearing when you re-entered the room were loose shorts. He was still lounged out on top of the covers, giving you no other choice than to stare at his incredibly well-sculpted torso.

"Is that really what you're going to sleep in?"

It seemed Pete hadn't noticed your presence, as he jumped slightly when you spoke to him. He looked down his own body through the dark lenses of the aviators. Confusion covered his features as you could see the furrow of his forehead. When he let out a quick laugh, turning completely to you while smirking, did you realise you'd made a mistake. By commenting, you'd shown you cared in some capacity.

"Why? Too distracting for you, sweetheart?" Pete's grin was huge.

Yes.

"No."

"Sure." With that he took the aviators off, placing them carefully on the nightstand.

You were still standing by the closed door, making no effort to join him.

"Are you going to stand there all night? Some of us actually want to sleep."

"Has anyone ever told you you're an asshole?"

"Yes, frequently."

Now he'd got rid of the glasses, you could feel his eyes following you as you circled the bed. He was still sporting that smug smirk. You cursed yourself for letting him get under your skin, and for showing him that he had done.

You hesitated, hand resting on the covers, reluctant to pull them back and crawl under them. With Pete still lying on top of them, there would be no accidental touching. The sheets were crisp against your legs, part of you wished you’d packed longer pants to sleep in - not shorts. You lay on your back, not wanting to face Pete, or even turn away from him. You’d turned the ceiling light off before you came over, now the only light was from the lamp next to Pete.

“Do you want me to turn this off?” He asked, as if he could read your thoughts. He still hadn’t moved. You hummed a response indicating that you did want him to. In the dark, maybe you could pretend he wasn’t there.

Pete reached for the switch, and the two of you were plunged into darkness. Neither person spoke for a minute or two after that. Once your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, you could see the slow rise and fall of Pete’s chest as he breathed. You couldn’t believe what was happening. You were lying next to the man who you’d been at odds with for years… and he wasn’t wearing much at all.

You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t thought at least once that Pete Mitchell was incredibly attractive. All of the times you’d been out with Carole and Goose, be it at a bar or just somewhere with Bradley in tow, Pete would have a chorus of females giving him attention. Through all of the petty comments you’d throw at each other, there was always a tiny part of you that wanted him to ignore them. Ignore them and continue bickering over whatever stupid thing was causing an feud that day. Could you even go as far to say you enjoyed fighting with him?

This might have been the longest time you two had been in the same room without a negative snipe.

“That’s actually too cold.” Pete suddenly whined, shuffling the duvet from under him so you both were covered. You lay still, unable to move as you felt his knee bump against your left leg. Once he was settled, silence fell over the room again. You weren’t tired. The amount of adrenaline pumping through you would make sleep impossible.

“Pete?” You’d spoken before you even realised what you were doing. Pete seemed as surprised as you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

"I have a question."

"Ok..."

"Do you always wear the dog tag?"

You asked because a sliver of light was reflecting from the metal around his neck.

There was a pause before Pete answered. "Yeah. It's who I am."

You wanted to roll your eyes but in a way, it was sweet. And then you wanted to roll your eyes at the fact you thought something associated with Pete Mitchell was sweet.

Instead of rolling your eyes, you actually rolled onto your side. Your arms were held to your chest. You were facing Pete now, but in the darkness of the room you could only see an outline of his features. It was unfair how good his side profile looked.

“Can I ask you something else?”

You felt the covers shift, the mattress moving under you as Pete mirrored your previous action. He was dangerously close now, lying on his side facing you. His body warmth was keeping the air beneath the duvet cosy. You wished you could see his eyes, you wanted to see how he was looking at you in the darkness.

“Go ahead.”

Your breath caught in your throat. This wasn’t the Pete Mitchell you knew. In a single second his whole demeanour had altered. He was now soft and tender, encouraging this conversation that was the first of its kind.

“What is flying like?”

This brought a light laugh from the man lying opposite you, but it wasn’t malicious.

“It’s the best feeling anyone could ever experience.”

“The best, huh?”

“Ok, maybe the second best.”

This time you laughed together. It was unbelievably strange. How had you been arguing before, yet now you couldn’t think of anywhere you would rather be. But unlike the silence this afternoon out on the driveway, it was comfortable. You just wanted to lie there, perfectly content.

You heard Pete take a deep breath before speaking, almost in a whisper, “I want you to know, Y/N, that I’m sorry, for how I’ve spoken to you in the past.”

You bit down hard on your lip.

“I’m sorry too. It’s all water under the bridge now.”

“In truth…” Pete started to say something but he trailed off.

“Yeah?” You prompted him, your heart beating fiercely in your chest.

“I…” He couldn’t seem to say whatever he wanted to. After he had failed the second time, he decided actions might be better than words. You felt the pad of his thumb touch your jaw.

When you didn’t flinch, Pete brought his hand to rest. His palm cupping your jaw, his thumb gracing your cheek. You couldn’t help but relax into him, humming in content. When Pete heard you, his hand left your face and moved to the small of your back, bringing you across the sheet to him. The only thing between you was the thin fabric of your top. The one thing better than seeing Pete’s naked chest, was being pressed up against it.

“Is this ok?”

You were barely audible as you whispered a “yes”. Every part of your skin that was touching Pete’s felt like it was on fire, and every part that wasn’t, was still burning with an unbelievable intensity.

“God you’re so beautiful, Y/N. You don’t know how hard it’s been to be around you and not be able to tell you that.”

He was tracing your face, his thumb smoothed over your cheekbone, fingertips nestling into your hair behind your ear. When you felt his lips on your forehead you sank into him, pushing your hips against his, wrapping your right leg over him. Pete kissed your forehead, both your cheeks, your jaw… and then your lips.

Your lips were barely touching at first, gracing each other in another attempt to gain consent. You’d be damned if you waited another second to kiss Pete Mitchell. You hadn’t realised for how long you’d wanted him in this way. The all consuming need to be needed, wanted, loved by him.

When you kissed, it was impossible not to react. Your leg linked around his became wrapped around his waist. His hand came to squeeze your thigh, holding your bare skin against the muscles of his back.

In a split second, Pete was on top of you.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Yes we are."

You wanted to touch him. You wanted him to touch you, everywhere. It didn’t matter where his hands were, or how his weight felt on top of you, it was never enough. It would never be enough. Your own hands were grasping at his back, feeling the lean muscles tense and relax under your fingertips.

“Tell me what you want, Y/N.” Pete didn’t stop kissing you, moving down your neck and collarbones.

“I need you, Pete. Anything. Fuck me. Just touch me.” You were moaning incoherent thoughts as he sucked on one specific place under your ear. Pete’s low laugh against your skin when straight to your core.

“As you wish, sweetheart.”

Your hips rose completely off the bed as you felt his hand breach the waistline of your shorts. You were sensitive, all of Pete’s previous exploration of your frame had done its job. Pete found your clit, delicately circling it as you mewled under him. Your hips bucked again, uncontrollably and with force.

“Careful, baby.” Pete cooed, steading your waist by shifting his weight. Pete’s intention was to turn you on enough that he could fuck you easily, but it would seem he didn’t have to do anything more. You were writhing already, and when he put one finger inside of you, you could do nothing but stifle an inaudible sound into his shoulder.

Pete was in awe of your reaction. How responsive you were to him was even more of a turn-on than he could ever imagine. He helped you remove your shirt, and then take your shorts down over your legs. He threw the items out of bed.

“You need to get these off, now.” You ordered, claiming some control over your own actions. Pete helped you fumble with his shorts, and soon neither of you were wearing anything.

“Please?” In any other situation you would be embarrassed by how desperate you sounded. But this time, you didn’t care.

The feeling of Pete inside you was intoxicating. Your legs were wrapped around his back, your arms around his neck. There was no possible way you could be any closer to each other. The way he continued to kiss you made up for all the times you hadn’t been with each other. With every peck, moan, movement, the tension that had built up between you two disappeared.

“Y/N…”

You loved how Pete said your name. It was becoming impossible to think straight. All your thoughts were centred on the feeling at your core, the mounting pressure that wasn’t ceasing.

"Maverick…"

Pete’s call sign fell from your lips instinctively. Through the darkness you heard him gasp, followed by a filthy moan before he thrust into you again, hard.

Your face was sheltered in the crook of Pete’s neck, so any sound you made was muffled. It was becoming very difficult to not cry out. You were so close too, it wouldn’t be long before you would come.

“Fuck, Y/N, you-” But whatever Pete was going to say was overshadowed by the beginning of your orgasm. You began shuddering against him, moaning pitifully as you hit your peak. Simultaneously, it became too much for Pete. You both rode out your highs together, unable to pull away.

You felt empty when Pete rolled off you, but you weren’t without contact for long. Pete lay on his back, you curled into his side, hand resting above his heart. He was holding your hand, your fingers intertwined on his chest.

All that was heard throughout the room was the sound of heavy breathing. It was a few minutes before either of you were able to speak.

“You called me Maverick.” He breathed.

"I did." The sultry tones in your own voice were a shock even to you. You leant forwards, taking the soft skin of his ear in your teeth. "Now, show me again why that's your call sign."

~~~

The next morning, you and Pete walked into the Bradshaw’s kitchen together. Pete’s arm was around your waist, his hand resting on your hip bone. It felt so natural, you wished you’d done this before.

Goose made an inhuman noise, pointing excitedly like a child at you and Pete. He was flitting between gaping at his two best friends and looking astonished at his wife. Carole was just smiling incessantly.

What you and Pete didn’t know was that you'd unknowingly given Carole the best birthday present she could want.

Masterlist

#lilaccrxsh #top gun #top gun fic #top gun x reader #pete maverick mitchell #maverick x reader #pete mitchell x reader

667 notes · View notes