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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 7 months

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The things we leave behind: FEAR

In part 5 (of 6) of my postgame Headspace AU, Basil faces his fears. The Stranger faces Omori. You can start from Chapter 1 here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/113743957

FEAR

They find Basil in Black Space. In the Punishment Room. He’s trembling over the operating table, clutching one half of a pair of pruning shears in two shaking hands. But the body on the gurney is wrong. It isn’t Mewo. It’s not even Omori. It’s Sunny.

It’s impressively lifelike. Basil even got his scar right—the way the skin rumples a little around the socket, even though it’s almost always hidden by an eyepatch. Sunny might as well be looking in a mirror. Except the Sunny on the table has his eyes closed. And all the skin on his torso has been peeled away. His chest is a display case. Bloody entrails in a cage of bone.

The Cat Butler rests one clawed paw on Basil’s shoulder. “It’s time, Doctor. Make the incision.”

“I c-can’t. I can’t.”

“You have to. He’ll die if you don’t. You have to do it. Do it. NOW.”

Basil squeaks and thrusts.

…There’s a horrifying squelch.

“Wrong,” the Butler hisses. “You cut the wrong place and now he’s going to die. He's bleeding into his lungs. He needs a stent but you have to push hard, Doctor, you have to drive it all the way into his trachea or his lungs will collapse and he'll die. Is that what you want? Do you want Sunny to die?"

Sunny hesitates in the threshold. It feels a little rude, just walking into someone else’s nightmare.

Omori has no such qualms. “Basil.”

When Basil jumps, the stent carves a bloody seam through the body’s chest. He flinches around, tearstained and trembling. “S-Sunny!! You’re okay!! I was s-so scared, I—”

Then he spots Sunny, standing just behind Omori.

Basil does a double-take. He scrubs at his face with the backs of his wrists. His gaze flits from Omori to Sunny, Sunny to the Cat Butler, the Cat Butler to Omori. Then his eyes startle wide. “—Wait. Omori??”

For the briefest, barest instant, Omori actually looks surprised. Sunny doesn’t. He’d sort of expected something like this. He’s told all of his friends about Headspace, in one way or another. But Basil is the only one who’s heard all the gory details.

“Yes,” Sunny answers, for both of them. He’d like to explain, but he keeps getting distracted by his own mutilated corpse. It looks too much like Mari. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Oh.” Basil looks over his shoulder and shudders. “Yes. Please. Um. S-Sorry about—”

Sunny shakes his head and grabs Basil’s hand. “Come on.”

###

When Sunny leads him into White Space, Basil’s eyes light up.

“Ohhh, it’s different than I thought! I pictured it more like your room, just with less, um, furniture. But I definitely thought there would be more… walls. Gosh. Does it go on like that forever? It looks like it would be easy to get lost…"

Sunny shakes his head. “It just loops around.”

“Interesting!! But—wait. How could I… Is this really Headspace? Or am I just d-dreaming that it is?”

Sunny shrugs. He’s not sure that there’s a meaningful difference.

“Because, I mean… s-surely people can’t share dreams.” Basil hesitates. “…Can they?”

Another shrug. It seems like maybe they can.

“You would think that, though,” Basil points out. “Even if I was only, um, d-dreaming you thinking it. But… I guess this isn’t what I imagined. And if I was the one dreaming, then… shouldn’t it look how I expect? Unless you’re the one dreaming, and I’m only a f-figment.” He chews his lip. “I feel real, but… I would, wouldn’t I?”

“Basil,” Sunny says.

“Mh? Yes?”

“I’m pretty sure you’re real.”

“Oh.” Basil frowns. “But—”

“But I’ll call you when I wake up.”

“Oh! That would be… Y-Yes, that would certainly clear things up. Um. Thank you.”

“But for now, it’s easier if you just assume it’s real.”

“O-Oh. I mean—yes, of course! Sorry.”

Sunny flicks him on the ear. (Basil is working on apologizing less. He still isn’t very good at it, but Sunny doesn’t mind reminding him.)

“R-Right. Sorr— I mean, thank you.” Basil’s frown deepens. “But I don’t understand… Didn’t you stop coming here? I sort of had the impression that it had stopped being here.”

There’s the creak of a hinge. On the other side of the void, Omori’s already halfway through the Door. He looks back at them coldly. “We’re in a hurry.”

“Sor– I mean!! We’ll be right there!!!!”

###

“Sorry to drag you into this,” Sunny tells Basil, helping him through the stump.

“Are you joking?” Basil lets out a snorting little giggle. “Sunny. You know this is, um, s-sort of a fantasy of mine, right? I've wanted to climb inside your head since we were six.”

Sunny’s mouth twitches. “It’s not really mine anymore. But. I could probably show you some stuff.”

“Ohh, please!! I want to see the dessert desert!! And the space campground!!!”

From further up the path, Omori clears his throat.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Omori,” Basil says right away. “I was being really rude, wasn’t I? It's just so exciting. But, um—” He hesitates, darting a glance at Sunny. For Basil, fear is never far below the surface. “Wh-What are we doing here, exactly? I thought you stopped coming after you fought Omori.”

Omori slows down just enough to shoot Sunny a withering glare. “Did you seriously tell him everything?”

Sunny shrugs. Because: yes. Pretty much everything.

“That stuff is private,” Omori hisses.

Sunny nods. He’s aware of that, yes.

Omori rolls his eyes and keeps walking.

###

It’s sort of nice to explain everything to someone who has all the context. And who’s even slightly open to the idea that this might really be happening, somewhere. Or at least that it’s not entirely un-real.

When Basil finds out that the others have already been here, he gets endearingly offended. “What!! Sunny!! How long has this been going on?”

“Three nights?” Four, if you count tonight.

“Why didn’t you tell me???”

“You had that paper due,” Sunny points out. “And you would’ve worried.”

“W-Well! Of course I would’ve worried! You could’ve been, I don’t know, relapsing; or it could’ve been a side effect from your meds, and some of those can be really dangerous, Sunny!!!”

Sunny gives him a look.

“Oh. Y-Yes. I see. I suppose you’re probably right.”

Yes. He usually is.

“Okay,” Basil says seriously. He tucks his hair behind his ears. “Okay! Just—tell me what we need to do.”

###

As usual, Omori gets straight to the point. “Basil is missing.”

Sunny blinks. “...Again?”

“Obviously.”

“S-So…” Basil says nervously. “We just need to, um, find me? Or—I mean—him?”

Sunny shrugs.

Omori also shrugs.

Basil looks from one to the other and giggles. “Oh. Well… good. This has been very informative.”

Omori rolls his eyes. “Aubrey’s been tracking him. She’ll know where to start.”

“We can—!!!! I get to meet the others????”

“They’re a little different,” Sunny warns him. He still doesn’t know what Hero’s going to look like, after last time. “From how I told you. They’ve been. Changing.”

“It’s still our friends, though, right?”

Sunny nods.

“Then I’m still excited!!!”

###

Kel’s ship is waiting on the playground, its burnished-steel mast looming high above the swingset. But it looks like Aubrey made some adjustments to the flag. Now, there’s a bright pink bow pinned at a jaunty angle on the Jolly Roger’s bony skull.

Sunny holds his breath as he hauls himself onto the deck and pulls Basil up after him. Then a bright-orange blur pelts past him to fling its arms around Omori.

“Omori!!!” Kel cheers. “We’ve been waiting for ever!! Aubrey said you forgot!!”

“I did not,” Bunbrey snaps, hopping down after him. “I only said I thought you might have forgotten what time we were supposed to meet.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“It is not!”

“Is too!!”

“It is not!!! You’re just too stupid to know the difference.”

Basil looks from one to the other before turning to Sunny with tears welling up in his eyes. “Oh, my gosh… Do you remember how much they used to fight? Like puppies learning how to play. Ohh, Sunny, I really think I’m going to cry!!!”

“You’re already crying,” Sunny says distractedly. He’s still looking around for Hero.

“Come on, you two,” a familiar voice sighs, and just like that, Sunny can breathe again. “There’s nothing to even fight about. You’re both just happy to see Omori, aren’t you? I know I am.”

Hero looks the same, mostly. Though he’s outgrown his old pajamas. He’s a little taller, a little surer. A little comfier, now that he’s swapped the suit for a v-neck sweater and a pair of sweats.

But more than anything, he looks… less perfect. Like his inner glow has dimmed a little. Not that Ex-Chairman Hero is all dull and monochrome, like Omori. But the violet light that still shines out of Captain Kel and Bunbrey has faded to a dusty lavender. It flickers faintly, a firefly near summer’s end. His lips still look a little blue, and there’s a spray of whiteheads popping up on his forehead, like they did when he first started HRT. But he isn’t hiding anymore. He isn’t lying.

When looks at Omori, Hero’s smile is small, but honest. “Hey, Omori. I guess we all really missed you."

Omori doesn’t smile back. “We’re looking for Basil. Can you help?”

“We can try!!!!” Captain Kel bursts out. “But he’s always so scared!! How are we s’posed to talk to him if he won’t even let us get close?”

“He lets me get close,” Bunbrey says smugly.

All five of them whip around to stare.

“He gets scared if you look,” she explains. “But sometimes I can hear him. His little heartbeat, racing.” She rubs the end of one ear, looking a little embarrassed. “It’s not like he talks. It’s still just squeaks and stuff. But if I’m out picking berries, or just… taking a nap under a tree… sometimes he doesn’t run away.”

“Wh–What!” Kel sputters. “Why!!!!”

“Basil is sensitive,” she huffs. “Not like you stupid boys. Of course he wouldn’t want Kel stomping around in his big stupid boots.”

“Wh— My boots are cool!!!”

Sunny looks at them. They’re slick black leather with orange soles and shiny buckles all the way up the side. And they are cool.

Bunbrey stamps her feet at him. “Basil doesn't care about your boots!! He’s little! And he’s scared!! And he’s—” She falters. “He’s. Been through stuff. When I was still being… not so nice. I guess I probably scared him even worse.” She shrinks in on herself. “I guess he might not even want to see us.”

“Of course he wants to see you,” the real Basil cuts in, unexpectedly. “He just doesn’t know how to come back. He p-probably thinks it’s too late.”

Bunbrey’s ears droop.

“No, no!” Basil says hastily. “N-Not because of you! Even if you were only ever nice… Whatever you said, he could make it so it hurt him. He’s—um. Good at that.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I know.” Her ears flick toward him. “You’ll bring him back?”

Bunbrey has fluffy pink ears and stars in her eyes. And Basil can’t even say no to people he hates. “I promise!!! We’ll bring him home.”

###

According to Aubrey, Headspace Basil has been hiding in the Vast Forest. He stays near the playground, mostly, though he’ll stray as far south as his old boot. He made himself small, she said. Fuzzy and cute and totally harmless.

It should be good news. It should mean that they can get through the night without some horrible fight to the death. But the further they walk, the jumpier Basil gets.

Sunny squints at him. Doesn’t Basil know that nothing here can hurt him? “You know it’s a dream.”

“I-I know!! But—um. That… s-sort of makes it worse?”

Sunny frowns. When Kel and Aubrey sussed out that they were dreaming, they seemed emboldened. Or at least a little less afraid. Even when Sunny first fled here—hysterical, delusional, only barely alive—the knowledge that he was dreaming came as a tangible relief. He could do anything, say anything. He could be irrational, unpredictable, even cruel. He could do whatever he wanted, and all of it would vanish in the morning. “Why?”

“Oh,” Basil mumbles. “Um. I don’t… or. L-Lucid dreaming—that’s, um, when you know you’re dreaming while you’re dreaming. I guess for some people, it’s… fun? But for me, it’s. Not so fun. As soon as I know it’s a dream—that it’s my brain deciding what I see—it’s… well. I guess that’s sort of the last person I’d want in charge. Haha.” He smiles unhappily. “Every lucid dream I ever had became a n-nightmare.”

Oh. That makes sense. Basil hates being in charge. His stutter is never worse than when he’s confronted with a choice. It doesn’t matter if it’s “should I really move off-campus?” or “do you want fries with that.” It’s still going to bring his whole week to a grinding halt.

Sunny doesn’t really get it. The choice paralysis thing. Sunny almost always knows what he wants. Most of the time, it’s just ‘whatever he wanted last time.’ (Sunny will outgrow chicken nuggets and pepperoni pizza when they put him in the ground, and not a day sooner.)

But Basil’s explained it to him. It’s all branching timelines and Bad Ends and the creep of entropy, a twisting, branching cascade of worst case scenarios. Like the mycelium of a vast fungal network, connecting the entire forest through delicate strands of possibility. Or like a chessmaster, considering every conceivable consequence of every consequence of every consequence of every move.

But the brain isn’t meant to store so much information at once. Running that many parallel projections overclocks the whole processor. Basil’s mouth gets stuck trying to answer six different questions at once, so all does is tie his tongue in knots. Total system shutdown.

“You’re not in charge, though,” Sunny tells him firmly.

“I-I’m not?”

“No.” It seems increasingly clear that Sunny isn’t, either. But he’s pretty sure that Basil could find a way to be afraid of that, too. So he opts to keep that detail to himself.

“Oh.” Basil blinks, blinks again. Then he sags with relief. “Good.”

“So just… do what I tell you?”

“Got it! Yes! I can… th-that would be great. Sorry I’m still so— Or, I mean. Thank you.”

Just by watching Basil calm down, Sunny can feel himself relax. Basil is emotional, but predictable. He’s prone to panic, but self-aware enough to see it coming. He might not trust himself, but he always trusts his friends.

Sunny squares his shoulders. “Okay. Let’s find you.”

###

But they can’t find Basil.

###

They trawl the trails forward and back, through the furthest reaches of the Forest and out the other side. They check for pawprints under every pinwheel. They even investigate Basil’s old house, a great moldy boot that’s long since succumbed to decay. His garden is growing wild. Every bed throngs with wildflowers and weeds. But their gardener is nowhere to be seen.

The longer they look, the more anxious Basil gets. “D-Do you think it’s my fault?”

“What? No.” Why would it be? Sunny’s the one who made this place. And then let it fall to ruin.

“But—!! I bet it didn’t take Kel this long!!”

Of course not. “Omori already knew where to find him.”

“B-But what about Aubrey??”

“She was a big monster,” Sunny reminds him. Corrupted Heasdpace-Aubrey wasn’t exactly a needle in a haystack. More like a huge, screaming kaiju in a haystack.

“Okay, but—”

“Basil,” Sunny says.

“What!!!!”

“Breathe.”

“...Right.” Basil sucks in a shallow breath. “R-Right, of course. Sorry. Sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m still like this when everyone else is so—”

Sunny pinches him.

“Ow!”

“I’m not sorry,” Sunny says flatly. “I need you here.” It’s what Basil needs, too. But saying so won’t be very useful, because Basil doesn’t care what Basil needs.

“R-Right,” Basil mumbles. “Sorry. Gosh, it’s different when it’s a dream, isn’t it? It’s much easier to—um—because anything really could happen, so it’s—”

Basil does better when he has something to do with his hands. Sunny grabs him by the shoulders and steers him toward the nearest bed of flowers. It used to just be sunflowers, but now it’s a more complicated palette. Buttercups and clover and milkweed and poppies, jostling for soil and sunlight.

“Make me a bracelet,” Sunny orders. After a moment, he remembers to add, “Please.”

As soon as Basil’s got his fingers in the flowerbed, testing the tensile strength of the stems, his breath slows a little. Sunny can feel his own pulse slowing, too. Calming Basil down is like getting a deer to hold still while you untangle its legs from a barbed wire fence. The trick is to keep its attention on literally anything else.

Basil is focused now, humming quietly as he works, so Sunny wanders off to poke around another patch of greenery. He’s so preoccupied that he nearly stumbles into Omori. Luckily, his former champion isn’t easily caught off-guard. Omori sidesteps neatly and gives Sunny a leaden stare.

“Wow. You made him even worse.”

“He isn’t worse,” Sunny says, stung. It took Basil ages to learn how to trust his friends with his whole self, anxiety and all. Years of secrecy and therapy and two steps forward, one step back. Even now, he can almost never feel completely safe. Like getting all his friends back was just some cruel trap, to lure him into complacency before yanking everything away and leaving him alone. This time for good.

But at least he doesn’t have to feel that way alone. Slowly, Basil is learning that it’s okay if he doesn’t always feel like smiling. That it’s okay if he can’t always see the bright side. When he needs reassurance, he’ll usually actually ask for it, without even very much cringing.

Omori looks unconvinced. “Look at him. He's more scared than before.”

“He's not,” Sunny snaps. All that’s changed is that Basil stopped lying about it. Which is actually really brave.

Omori rolls his eyes. “Right. He’s having a breakdown in a garden that isn't even real because he’s sooo brave.”

Sunny nods. Yes. That’s right.

“So you think this is good. Just… panicking and panicking, and splashing it around till he can’t see anything else. You think that’s brave.”

“Yes?” Sunny thought that was obvious. “He just needs a minute.”

“But he’s—!!” Omori’s face tightens, and then goes slack. “…He's out of control. And this isn’t even scary. What happens when the fear gets bigger than he is? How would it ever stop?”

Sunny frowns. This is getting weirdly specific. And Omori isn’t exactly big on small talk.

Mari would know what he wanted. Mari could find some clever trick to draw it out of him, without him ever even knowing what she’d done. But Sunny killed Mari. All that’s left is her unnerving, uncomfortably blunt baby brother.

“...Is this about something else?”

“Like what,” Omori grits out.

But Sunny doesn’t know. That’s why he asked.

Omori doesn’t say anything, but Sunny never minded silence. He keeps his mouth shut and waits.

“I just. Don’t see the point,” Omori mutters at last. “At least getting mad makes you stronger. Even feeling sad makes you harder to kill. Being scared just makes you useless.”

“But…” Sunny trails off. It’s not like he can argue. Omori is right. Feeling scared feels bad. It makes you feel small and weak and helpless, and it jams a live wire through your prefrontal cortex, totally frying your ability to make good choices. It makes you feel like prey. Like a rabbit staring into the jaws of a fox.

But you can’t just opt out. Not forever. Didn’t they learn that together?

Omori rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I just think it’s weird that Kel and Aubrey are all cool and fine when he’s still such a sad little freak.”

Sunny sees red. “Take it back.”

A gentle hand alights between his shoulder blades. Then Basil is beside him, sliding a freshly braided bracelet up his wrist. Buttercups and daisies, mostly.

“Sunny! It’s okay! Really! Please don’t fight.” Basil smiles at Omori, tentative but growing surer. “It really is okay. I… guess I sort of know what he means. Being scared like this… It gets so loud! It can feel so much bigger, s-so much real-er than what’s really real. And feeling that much… Well, it’s—easy to get lost in.” He lets out a self-conscious little laugh. “A-And then of course that’s scary, too, so… It all just circles around and around. Sometimes it feels like it’ll feel that way forever.”

“So why do it,” Omori grits out. Forcing the words through his teeth.

“H-Haha… well… I g-guess because it’s there anyway? Even when you’re not looking. And… the more you keep it secret, the bigger it gets. And—um. What’s that expression?” Basil gives Sunny a cringing smile. “‘Scared dogs bite.’”

Omori doesn’t react. His face is a sheet of printer paper. Bone-white and utterly blank.

“Besides!” Basil adds, with forced cheer. “You won’t ever really get lost. Eventually you get tired, or, um, run out of cortisol, and your brain will need a break. It never really lasts forever. It just feels that way when it’s still happening. Or—um. When you’re… still running.” He gives Omori a sympathetic smile. “You just have to be patient. And t-try not to think too far ahead. Thinking won’t get you far when you’re still so s-scared.”

There’s a rustle in the bushes, the faintest scuffle of paws over dry leaves. And then it appears.

Basil’s hands fly to his mouth. “Ohhh,” he gasps, “look at me!! I’m—so cute!!!”

He’s not wrong. Headspace Basil was always a precious little squirrel. Now, though, he’s an actual, literal precious little squirrel. Twitchy little paws. Huge watery eyes. A lush, cartoonishly fluffy tail. Straw-colored fur that’s tipped with seafoam green. Sunny’s heart lurches. Whose wouldn’t? It’s just— He’s just a little creature.

The Ba-squirrel flags its tail, chittering wildly. Holy shit. Hoooooly shit. It’s too fucking cute.

“Shhh,” the real Basil whispers, dropping to his knees. “It’s okay. I know. You’re scared, right? But that’s okay. No one is going to be angry. It’s okay to be afraid.”

The squirrel bolts. It’s halfway up a tree before it finally looks back.

Basil doesn’t meet its gaze. He doesn’t even move. He just crouches there, waiting. Ready for anything. Expecting nothing.

“You’re scared of losing them again,” he suggests, so soft that you almost can’t hear him. “Aren’t you? Of getting lost. But if you’re too scared to even try, then it’s already happened. You’re already lost. There’s nothing left to be afraid of.”

The squirrel hesitates. It leaps back to earth. It sniffs the tip of Basil’s index finger and then, all at once, scuttles up his arm.

“It’s alright,” Basil whispers, as it trembles in the crook of his elbow. He grazes its velvety head with the back of one finger, so painfully gently. “It’s okay if you’re scared. Y-You’re safe, but—it’s okay if you can’t believe it. It might take years before you can believe it. Maybe longer. Maybe even when things are perfect, you’ll always be a little bit afraid. But I think maybe that’s okay, too. And… wouldn’t it be better if you didn’t have to do it all alone?”

The squirrel eyes him warily. Then lets out a chirruping squeak and scurries up his shoulder to nestle into the crook of his neck.

Basil looks up at Sunny and smiles. “He’ll be okay. He just needs—”

(A shadow crosses the sun.)

There isn’t even time to shout a warning. By the time Sunny opens his mouth, it’s already too late. Basil’s been thrown back, belly-up in the tangled brush. And the Ba-squirrel is gone. All that remains is the phantom that swallowed it whole.

The Stranger.

You can read the rest of Basil's chapter here: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/128492737 (PSA: there's a scene between Omori & Sunny at the top of the chapter that I didn't include in this post, since it didn't read as well out of context. So maybe start from the top before hopping to the fight?) Or start from chapter one: ao3.org/works/45213322/chapters/113743957

#omori fanfic #headspace au #omori spoilers #true end #omori sunflower #omori basil #omori stranger

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oatflatwhite · 2 years

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sometimes it’s just this simple

an indianapolis ‘verse fic

steve/eddie, post-canon, established relationship, rated T, 5k

read on ao3

Steve’s coming off a twelve-hour overnighter and the tail end of a lingering head cold he’s had all month, which is why he thinks he can be forgiven for not noticing the dog at first.

It’s well past seven by the time he lets himself inside after a thirty-second battle with his key and the sticky front door lock he keeps reminding himself to fix but never does. He keeps reminding Eddie too, but of the two of them it’s Steve who writes appointments in their calendar (thankfully, no longer monster truck themed) even though Eddie calls him old for doing so. To which Steve replies that, actually, Eddie’s older than him—which gets him in return a pointed glance at the glasses he keeps on a chain around his neck now that Steve refuses to be embarrassed about, despite Eddie’s, and Dustin’s, and Max’s best efforts.

Okay, so. Maybe he’s a little embarrassed. But Eddie kisses the pink in his cheeks every time, so on balance Steve reckons it’s worth it.

Honestly, they should just call Wayne about the door.

Jaw cracking around his third yawn in as many minutes, Steve throws his jacket over the blankets piled up on one end of the couch before shuffling to the kitchen to make tea. The shower’s running, which explains where Eddie is, and there’s a bowl half-filled with water sitting on the faded linoleum, which Steve can’t explain. He glances up automatically to check for a leak but the ceiling is as dry and peeling as it always is and besides, it hasn’t rained since Tuesday. Steve picks up the bowl and sets it on the bench to make sure he doesn’t step in it, because half-asleep as he is it’s absolutely something he would do, then heads to the bedroom to change into his pyjamas while the water boils.

It’s when he comes back out again, in his boxers and fuzzy socks with the grippy soles on the bottom, that he realises three things:

One, they keep the blankets on the recliner, out of the way when Steve and Eddie want to sit on the couch together.

Two, the pile of blankets on the couch is looking at him with big black eyes.

Three, that explains the water bowl.

“Um, hi,” Steve says to the dog on his couch, who has resolved before his eyes into a mass of dappled black-and-grey fur and paws that it hides its nose behind when Steve sits down gingerly beside it. “No, I’m—it’s okay,” he says, holding his hands up in front of his chest. “I’m not gonna hurt you, okay? It’s okay, you’re alright.” The dog looks at him and rubs its nose into the cushion. “I’m Steve,” Steve says, stupidly.

keep reading on ao3

#steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #eddie munson #oatflatwrites #i am meh on the ending of this but oh well

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sugamamacustard · 3 years

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Fire man.

Pairing: Alpha! Tetsuro Kuroo x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Toru Oikawa x Omega! Reader, Alpha! Kentaro Bokuto x Omega! Reader

Genre: Fluff, NSFW/ Smut

Request: hi custard!! can you share any headcanons about omega! reader going into her first heat and how her alpha takes care of her? for kuroo, oikawa, and bokuto if possible? 🥰🥰

Summary: Your heat hits unepectedly and it’s up to your alpha to help you through it. How is he doing it?

Author’s Note: Hiya Anon! I just wanted to say hi. :D I think Bokuto’s banner is one of my favorites...

Requests: Open

Tetsuro Kuroo

➵Kuroo, when your in heat, is a tease.

➵ He is making your whine and beg while keeping you just barely hanging on the edge before even thinking of giving you his knot.

➵ He’s not giving you anything until you beg like the good kitty you are. He’s making sure you know who’s in charge and he will not give in.

➵ He is alpha. You are his bitch in heat.

➵ And you aren’t forgetting it anytime soon. (Though his after care is like 11/10)

➵ You’re breathing was heavy and your core hurt.

➵ Sweat was dripping off of you in buckets.

➵ You were so...So warm.

➵ And nothing can ease you of this pain.

➵ Nothing but your alpha.

➵ He was on his way, or so he texted you, but it was too long.

➵ He was taking too long.

➵ Where was he?

➵ He was supposed to be here by now.

➵ And he wasn’t.

➵ You had half a mind to lock him out. Though, the other half was your omegan half and she was snarling at you for even thinking about this.

➵ So you didn’t. But it wasn’t like it was an all serious thought anyway, since you could barely move to drag your fingers between the folds of your sopping cunt let along move to lock the windows and doors.

➵ You just wanted your alpha, was that too much to ask?

➵ “Naught kitten, eh? Playing with yourself without your alpha?”

➵ You barely had enough strength to look up, watching Tetsuro cross over to you, setting down a grocery bag by your doorway.

➵ “Need...Need alpha. Need my alpha. Need his knot. Need-” You panted, drooling as the captain’s fingers trailed the very same way yours had.

➵ “Don’t worry. Your alpha will help you.”

____

“Fuck, kitten. Have I told you how pretty you smell in heat? I don’t think I have.” Tetsuro groaned, hips rolling as his cock effortlessly pushed into your cunt, a squelching noise ringing through the room along with your absolutely divine moans.

“No, alpha. No. I’m your pretty omega though. Yours, all yours.” You whimpered, gripping the sheets below you with a white-knuckled grip. His cock hit all the right spots for you, pressing against your cervix and sending shots of absolutely addicting pleasure through your spine. Your thighs clenched tightly around his hips as a gush of slick sloshed out of your cunny and around your alpha’s dick. He hissed in pleasure, slowing his already agonizing pace. His fingers traced your clit in a mindless motion, scooping up slick before bringing his fingers up to his mouth and sucking.

He hummed in satisfaction before moving the, now, slick free hand to one of your breasts. The pads of his fingers were rough from volleyball and whatever and still had you withering from the touch. A squeeze had you chirping loudly in pleasure, more slick gushing out. “Please alpha! Please give me your knot, fuck me until I don’t know my name! Please- help me!”

Tetsuro chuckled rolling his hips once more. “Well, since my kitten begged so prettily, I suppose I could help.”

Toru Oikawa

➵ I can see Toru being a huge tease as well, just not in the same way as Kuroo

➵ This man is quick to have you cumming over and over on his fingers, which you know are talented.

➵ And then, when your sobbing and begging for his knot?

➵ Then, and only then, will he let you hop on his dick.

➵ And he’s not helping you.

➵ If you want something, you’re working for it.

➵ He’s making you ride him over and over, even when a mixture of his and your cum is dripping down your thighs.

➵ And it’s not until your sobbing into his shoulder do you get his knot to relieve yourself of any and all pain.

➵ But he’s cuddling you right after and soothing your tears, whispering such sweet things with that silver tongue of his. (After care like 7/10)

➵ You texted your alpha thirty minutes ago.

➵ It was a thirty minute walk from your house to his, not including fangirl interceptions.

➵ So you were patient.

➵ You didn’t dare try to touch yourself, as your alpha would make you pay for that, but instead sat nice and patient.

➵ “Pretty bird!”

➵ Your head perked up in excitement as your brown haired angel popped into your room, immediately purring as your pretty figure.

➵ He laughed, using quick strides to get to your side, crawling into your nest and peeling of his shirt as you pawed at it yourself.

➵ “Does my pretty bird think she’s getting off that easily?”

____

“Toru!” You pleaded, needy as your hips stung, the grip on them almost certainly leaving a bruise. You had been bouncing for hours and the strain on your hips, thighs, knees and calves was burning with an oh-so delicious ache. You couldn’t count the amount of times your alpha had made you cum, both on his cock and his fingers, but the overstimulation had long since turn into a pitiful painful bliss that had you quivering with every move.

“Ah-ah-ah. That’s not what my omega calls me, now is it?” Toru chuckled, speeding up your bounces as his hips thrust up in time with yours. His lips went right back to attacking any skin in his general vicinity, watching your tear stained-face. When you whimpered a response, one he obviously was not looking for, he stopped completely-- the head of his cock prodding your cervix and making you whimper. “Is it, omega?”

“No! No- No your my alpha. My strong, gorgeous alpha! My amazing, incredible alpha! Please, alpha! Help me- Help your omega please!” You sobbed and whined, trying to bounce again, but his hold on you was cement solid. You were stuck and he wasn’t letting you go until you gave him what he wanted. When you began sobbing into his shoulder murmurs of ‘my alpha-my alpha-my alpha’ he began moving you.

“That’s it pretty bird, now just let your alpha care for you.”

Kotaro Bokuto

➵ Let’s be honest.

➵ Bokuto is the complete opposite of the other two.

➵ He’s a lover by heart. A totally selfless lover.

➵ He’s giving you everything you want when you want it.

➵ He doesn’t care about his own pleasure only yours.

➵ Want snacks? He’s got you.

➵ Want to crack a few jokes while he’s buried balls deep inside of you? He’s joking around with you.

➵ Want to ride him until your both crying? He’s got tissues for right after ready to go.

➵ Kotaro is selfless and giving and probably one of the best to have during your heat.

➵ He has no qualms on going down on you for hours, or fingering you until your satisfied or lending his thigh to you to grind on until your calmed.

➵ Everything he has, is yours. He is yours. And you better be all his >:(

➵ Knocking on your alpha’s door was nerve wracking in every sense, even if you knew he would be and is happy to help whenever you need.

➵ He opened the door within moments, smiling brightly when he saw you. “Y/N! Angel!”

➵ He hugged you tightly, scenting you as he did so only to pause.

➵ “Are you- Is your heat here?” The angel, no matter how many times he claimed you were an angel-- it was always him--, questioned, pulling away but keeping his hands on your hips.

➵ When you nodded shyly, he purred even louder-- if possible.

➵ “Then why didn’t you say so, angel? Let me help you!”

____

“Alpha- Alpha!” Your cries were like music to your alpha’s ears, his tongue flicking across your clit with a hum. The vibrations sent you crashing over the edge once more, your fingers yanking as he kept your thighs in his hands. His head ached slightly but it was all worth it. All worth your pleasure. He would go through it a hundred times just to see you like this one more time in his life.

His jaw was beginning to hurt ever so slightly, but it was so minimal in the grand scheme of things. So minimal in comparison to you. Everything is minimal when it comes to you. He was missing practice at this point, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to focus on you. Focus on how your thighs clenched around his head, or how slick dripped both down his chin and your, now sloppy, cunt. Or maybe on how pretty your swollen little clit was, just sitting there-- waiting for him to suck on it like a lollipop.

And he had a one track mind. So lollipop it was. His lips immediately went back to sucking on the clit, tongue swirling around your sensitive nub over and over and over again while you whined and squirmed under him. But he wasn’t moving. Not until you wanted him. Not until you were past satisfied. When he did pop off with an audible pop he only looked up with a smirk, wiping his chin on your thigh.

“I gotta treat my angel right, ya know? So stay still and let me have my meal.” He barely heard your beautiful moans when he went back down on you.

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lady-z-writes · 3 years

Note

When you get a chance and if it’s something your down for (NO RUSH) could I possibly bother you for yet another fantastic piece with Heis and a fem reader? I can’t get the idea out of my brain of a hot evening (cause that factory must be sweltering) between the two, that kinda passionate, desire on high, needy and just downright sweaty kind of smut. All the bonus points if the aftermath is fluffy. Thank you!

Sure thing! Thank you for this. Smut below the cut:

Heisenberg is dripping with sweat when he comes back up to the living quarters. You've been wrapped in a towel for twenty minutes, waiting for him to join you for a shower and once you see him you know it's in his best interest.

Tonight is particularly hot - overwhelmingly so. And it doesn't help that you spent half the day watching Heisenberg work and sweat. He'd been shirtless as much as he could today and there were plenty of times you distracted him by stripping down to your skirt and a bra.

To say you two have been pawing at each other all day would be an understatement.

Only it was too hot to actually fuck in the factory, which was a damn shame.

Hence why you were eagerly awaiting his arrival back to the living quarters.

The shower running cold just how he likes it after a day like today, you watch him undress then stride right by you and into the shower, his finger grazing your thigh as he passes.

The grime washing off him is instant once the water hits him. He turns to watch you slip the towel from your body, step in with him. You want him to wash off before anything gets really heated, but he's kissing you and pressing you to the wall...how can you say no to him?

The icy water feels refreshing, wakes you up. It's a shock against the heat of his body.

Heisenberg enters you without much prep - there was no need. Today had been all the teasing you could want and somehow this shower sex isn't enough. The cold water is surely a distraction.

"Mmmm wanna cum?" he asks against your shoulder.

"You know that answer."

"Here?" he grunts as he thrusts into you. You shake your head. "Mmm fine then. Clean up," he pulls away, starts washing up; leaves you wanting and empty.

Your wet hair keeps you cool for a while after your shower is done and Heisenberg surely loves your wet shirt with your nipples poking through.

The couch is so sweaty to sit on and feign interest in a book. Heisenberg wants to write down today's notes and, honestly, you're so desperate for him. Normally, you'd be closing the distance between you two - physical touch - but tonight is just so Goddamn hot you can't bring yourself to do it.

So you're fingering yourself on the couch, touching yourself to the look of him so damn focused over that stupid journal.

The moan you accidentally let out alerts him and his eyes quickly trail toward you.

"Ohhh, you fucking tease," he drones. "Such a sight."

And he watches you, sets his gaze on your parted legs, the practiced movements of your fingers. You watch him fidget in the seat, pants tented, jaw clenching and unclenching as he debates if he wants to finish his notetaking.

A surge of pleasure shoots through you as you rub your clit. It's his breaking point. Heisenberg is shoving you down on the sweaty couch, hovering over you, removing your fingers so he can replace them with his mouth.

He gets you to cum two times before he's even unzipping his pants.

You're a sweaty, panting mess beneath him when he finally slides himself inside of you.

You swollen walls greedily take him in and you hear the shaking breath he releases on the first thrust. Heisenberg is all hands, despite the heat. Sloppy kissing, bumping noses, clashing teeth - it's needy and good. You can tell he needs to hold himself back because his pace changes before he switches up positions as way of distraction from blowing his load.

"Need you to cum on my cock," he huffs out, letting you top because he knows you love the added pressure, the control. "Now, doll."

He counts you down because you love the urgency, love knowing that he may punish you if you don't cum when he gets to 'one'. You love your little games.

By the time you're gasping his name, he's gripping your hips and rutting up into you at such a pace you can't catch your breath. He fills you and it's been so long coming, you sigh with relief.

You feel like you're on fire when you finally lay your body against his. The gasps that fill the room almost overpower the knowledge of the heat.

"Another shower is in order," you finally moan out, peeling yourself off him, your skin stuck together.

"I've been distracted from my notetaking."

"Wonder who would do such a thing."

"And you better not pull any of that self-pleasure again. I want to be in control of your pleasure tonight."

"So I'm guessing I'm not allowed to take a solo shower."

"You'd be guessing correct."

You groan, but only because it humors him.

You're both all hands again while he finishes up his notes. It's scorching inside but you still sit on his lap to be close to him, to run your nails along his skin, grind your body against him, let him trail kisses along the soft spot on your neck.

He's peeling your panties off you once his notes are finished and you're so eager to feel him again, you both forget about your shower just long enough to let him fuck you over the desk.

Your hands grip at his fingers planted beside your head on the desk. The next orgasm leaves you gasping and choking on stale air, clawing at his forearms, rutting back against him in a desperate plea to be fucked harder.

Of course, he obliges. Heisenberg aims to please.

You beg to face him after a while, cry out that you want to kiss him, touch him. He finally agrees to plop your ass on the desk, fuck you atop the metal thing (which is hot against your ass, but makes for some added pleasure you didn't know you'd like.)

You're all open-mouthed kisses, deep moans, wandering hands. It's passionate and desperate; needy in the best way. He makes you feel wanted. Your desire for him is always surprising to him, but he's learning.

As you come down from another orgasm, Heisenberg watches a bead of sweat trail between your breasts, down to your navel. He's, once again, distracting himself so he can last a little longer, maybe get one more orgasm out of you.

But this heat is making you both sleepy and he hums when you rest your head against his chest.

"Mmm I'm gonna fill you," he pants, "and then get you under some cool water, scrub you down...eat you out one last time before bed." He hears you moan. "Would you like that?"

You nod against his chest, moan out as he picks up the pace. Your hands wander all over his body and he feels so wanted, so attractive it makes him tingle.

"Mmm, need you, Heisenberg," you gasp out and that does it - it's enough to make him cum.

After the comedown, he carries you to the shower, sets you down, starts the faucet.

Bathing you is tender and takes his mind away from the humidity in the factory. You're beautiful, he thinks. Too beautiful to be with him, for sure.

Leaning against his chest, you're an exhausted mess. The soap is gentle against your skin as he cleans you up. He thinks you're asleep when he's done. It takes everything in you to stay awake so you decide to return the favor and clean him off.

"Okay, love," he hums against your ear. "That's enough. Time to rinse off. Then bed, you got me?"

He's getting on his knees in front of you as the water rinses him off. You nod, gripping at his shoulder as he easily hoists you against the wall, tucks your legs over his shoulders as he once again settles between your thighs.

That talented tongue of his works you into oblivion as he makes good with his promise. You're pretty sure you're in heaven by the time he's done with you. Shaky knees unable to support you, he steadies you enough to dry off and then carries you to the bed.

You know the drill: he'll go read until he's tired and you'll fall asleep alone. But not tonight. Tonight you're begging him to stay.

Tonight, he obliges.

"G'night, Heisy."

"G'night, kitten."

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x you #smut

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bunny-xoxo · 3 years

Text

Laundry Day

Modern!Armin x fem!reader

18+ MINORS DNI

warning(s): oral(f) receiving, masturbation(m), swearing

a/n: ok so this is like my first full blown smut piece on here 😳 and I wasn’t expecting it to be about Armin either wbshdhehkws but I was talking with @armins-futon about him andddd here we are so I hope y’all enjoy 🤪 ALSO CONGRATS ON 400 BB THIS IS OFFICIALLY A GIFT POST FOR YOU AND YOUR MILESTONE‼️‼️

gif not mine, credit to owner

Armin grunted ahead of you as he walked into the laundry room, huffing as he set the laundry basket down.

“Ya know, I’m pretty sure I don’t need help doing laundry sweetie.” He looked at you over his shoulder where you stood quietly peeking in the doorway.

You rolled your eyes and sauntered over to hop onto the dryer where you swung your hanging feet, your heels hammering into the cold metal.

“How the hell did you hear me? I wanted to scare you.” You sighed and crossed your arms, leaning back to rest your head against the cupboard behind you.

It was a little game you guys played, and buy you guys I mean only you. You loved getting Armin startled. Well you think you would if you were ever actually successful in doing so. You’d hide behind doorways, under beds, in the closet, even in the garage after he’s come home from work but nothing ever worked. And it was starting to really bum you out.

“Don’t pout because it didn’t work, maybe you’ll get me next time.” He always said this, too.

You scoffed and turned your head to watch him. His toned arms were digging deep into the basket to pull out the last of the laundry, and the small of his back was showing from the way he was bent over to properly reach the clothes. He pulled his arms out but instead of grabbing laundry he grabbed your shins, looking up at you from his position. He was holding your legs flush against the dryer, preventing you from swinging your feet to bang loudly on it.

“Stop.” His tone of voice made you squirm.

You nod your head and give him a little smile, slightly embarrassed at how easy it is for him to affect you like that.

He stands up and stretches his arms after putting the last of the laundry in, his stomach peeking out from the bottom of his shirt, and he starts to move in front of you. You swear he does shit like that on purpose sometimes.

Standing in front of you now, he pushes your legs apart by the plush of your inner thighs and slowly moves his hands to the outer bits of them, taking his time to really feel how soft your skin is, before he roughly yanks you forward and closer to him. The metal pulls at your skin in the process and stings a little, but now your face to face with him and the discomfort is long forgotten.

“‘Scuse me sweetie, don’t want you to hit your head.” He drags his left hand up your side to cup and move your head into his chest, and with your face buried there you can still smell his body wash from his shower that morning. And when he closes the cupboard he pulls your head back by your hair, only slightly tugging on it, to kiss your nose and go back to doing laundry.

Now that he definitely did on purpose.

After pouring in the detergent he grabbed, he opted for setting it on the dryer instead of putting it back, picking you up off of it and grabbing onto your hand to pull you into a hug. This was only so he could get better access to whisper into your ear, “c’mon, let’s watch something while we wait for them to be done.”

His voice was soft and low, sending chills down your spine as you simply nodded.

You both plopped onto the couch to find something mindless to put on for the next half hour. His arms snaked around your waist and pulled you into his chest after he pressed play, his fingers drawing mindless figures onto your skin.

You guys sat like this for most of the time when you were suddenly struck with an idea, noticing how he was starting to doze off.

“I’ll be right back, I gotta go pee.” You peeled his arms off you when he hummed in response, quietly padding off to the bathroom. Of course you didn’t really have to use the bathroom, you were gonna scare him.

You waited a few minutes in the hallway with your hand over your mouth, doing your best to stifle your giggles. If he wasn’t practically asleep when you left you were sure he’d have heard you by now, maybe that’s why it never worked.

You waited a minute more before crouching down and crawling into the living room. You were moving as slowly and silently as humanly possible until you reached the end of the couch.

You shot up and shouted, thinking you’d really done it this time, except he was no longer peacefully sleeping on the couch like you’d left him.

You thought maybe you waited too long and the timer went off before you could scare him. But before you could turn around to try to find him you felt strong arms lift you up from behind paired with a shout.

You felt your heart jump and let out a little holler even though you knew the culprit was obviously Armin.

You groaned and smacked his arms while he carried you to the couch.

“Ugh! No fair Armin! I never get to scare you and now you scare me?!”

He set you down on the couch on your back and hovered above you, still chuckling to himself as he reached down to cup your cheek.

“Aww I’m sorry baby, but I wouldn’t be a good boyfriend if I let you win.” He was smiling sweetly but his tone was nowhere sweet, it was condescending and mischievous.

“Yeah whatever.” You smacked his upper arms but let your hands linger there, squeezing the muscle lightly that was tense from the way he was holding himself up.

You let your eyes wander down his arms and to his chest before you looked back up to his face. You could feel your cheeks immediately start to get warm when you realize how obviously you had just gawked at him.

“Yeah?” You could practically hear the smirk in his voice when he said that.

You groaned and hit his chest this time, refusing to look at him.

You could feel him lean down closer to you, his body heat making you even warmer.

“Here, let me make it up to you for scaring you so bad, yeah?” His throat sounded dry when he whispered that, swallowing after he spoke and kissing your cheek lightly.

He wanted you as bad as you wanted him.

His soft lips began leaving what started out as sweet kisses down the side of your neck and on the bits of your chest that were exposed, but now they were wet and needy with bites littering your collar bones.

“Armin, please.” Your voice was breathy and strained.

You were desperately pawing at his shoulders as he moved his hands to your shorts. You lifted your hips as he pulled them down along with your underwear.

“I know pretty girl, sit up for me.” He sat up on the couch and brought you with him, awkwardly adjusting the two of you until your back was resting against the cushions with your thighs resting on his shoulders.

He was on the ground in front of you, kneading the tops of your thighs as he bit along the inside of them, making you jump slightly and quickly grab handfuls of his hair.

You bucked your hips towards him when he left a pathetic kiss to your lips, his warm breath teasing you.

This was his favorite way to have you, legs spread and exposed for him. You whining and doing your best to convince to just touch you with your body squirming.

He moved his arm to bring two of his long fingers to your pussy, spreading your lips to see you desperately clench around nothing.

“Armin!” You pulled on his hair again and he was brought back down, looking up at your face and smiling sweetly.

“Sorry baby, I forgot this was about you.” He chuckled and kept staring at you while he shoved his middle finger in you at an agonizingly slow pace.

You tried to move your hips out of instinct but Armin’s other hand was keeping you in place now.

“I know baby, I’ll give you more. I’m just making sure you’re ready first.”

That was always his excuse when he was teasing you like this.

But before you could complain he had 2 fingers inside you and was curling them up at just the right spot.

You let out an erotic moan and tried to pull his face closer to where you wanted him most.

“Yeah? You want my mouth, too?”

You feverishly nodded and looked down to see his eyes dark with his pupils blown and flushed cheeks. God could he just start already.

He pulled his fingers out of you and moved his hands to spread your thighs even farther, the burn worth it when you finally felt his mouth on you.

He buried his face into you and wasted no time in running his tongue along your inner folds, humming to himself when he first got a taste of what he’d been needing.

He brought his hand up to spread your folds and shake his head slightly, making his tongue work hard against your clit. That wasn’t enough for him though.

He moved his hand so his thumb could rub your clit as his tongue fucked your hole, needing to taste more of you. The closer you got the harder you pulled on his hair, only making him groan in response.

He brought his other hand to his cock, shoving his hand down his sweatpants to give himself even a small sense of relief, his head swollen and dripping with pre-cum at how bad he needed you.

“Fuck baby, do you know what you do to me?” He pulled away breathless, his mouth and chin glistening and his eyes glossy, you could see his chest heaving from where you were and slight movements from his left arm let you know exactly what you do to him.

He didn’t give you a chance to respond when he dove back in, latching onto your clit this time and sucking harshly, effectively pushing you over the edge.

“Oh, god, f-fuck!” You whined and groaned, rolling your hips against him as you rode out your orgasm, Armin not letting up once til you lightly pushed on his head.

“Baby, please, I’m done.” You panted and closed your eyes, relaxing into the couch cushions behind you.

He sat up and you caught a glimpse of the wet spot and tent forming in his sweatpants before he pulled them down to let his cock spring free,

“Oh? You’re just gonna leave me like this?” He was breathless too, and even though he sounded cocky you knew how desperate he was for your touch.

You looked up at him with hazy eyes and a lazy smile, sitting up slightly as you reached out.

“Well, I gu-“

You were rudely interrupted by the timer on your phone signaling it was time to move the clothes from the wash.

Armin jumped, startled, and turned the phone off.

“Fucking- stupid- ugh.”

He tossed the phone angrily onto the other side of the couch and huffed at your amusement from his scare.

You giggled one last time and wrapped your hand around his cock, biting your lip at the sight of him groaning and, this time, grabbing your hair, watching you intently.

You smiled up at him sweetly, “don’t worry, the clothes can wait a few more minutes.”

——————

PLS TELL ME ALL YOUR THOUGHTS POSTING THIS IS SCARY AND IM DESPERATE FOR VALIDATION

I hope you guys liked it 😭😭😭

-🐇out

taglist: @plutowrites @armins-futon

#aot smut #attack on titan smut #snk smut #shingeki no kyojin smut #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin smut #armin headcanons #armin hcs #armin x you #[h*rny.hours😐]#minors dni #armin x y/n

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nothing-but-haikyuu · 3 years

Text

Happy Birthday, Mr. Oikawa

Reader: F Character: Tōru Oikawa Rating: E Summary: You two were back in Tokyo for the event and getting comfortable, him sneaking out every so often to your hotel room. But tonight was special, you celebrated with the team, had a few drinks and now you were leading him back to your hotel room. Warning: Smut, Birthday Sex, Breeding Kink, Spitting, Nipple Play Ask Box: Open | Check Out ThreadytoGoDesign | Join me on Patreon

Oikawa loved to celebrate his birthday. Who wouldn’t love a day all about them and two years into marriage you still wanted to make his birthday special. This year was especially special, with the Olympics on the horizon and him climbing the charts of being the top professional athlete in the country.

You two were back in Tokyo for the event and getting comfortable, him sneaking out every so often to your hotel room. But tonight was special, you celebrated with the team, had a few drinks and now you were leading him back to your hotel room.

His eyes were glued to your ass as you swayed your hips from sides to side. You dragged him towards your room on the tenth floor, with an above average look at the city.

“Were you always this beautiful?” He asked jokingly, “I didn’t know I was getting a wife with so much ass.” He laughed before he hugged you from behind and kissed your neck, “Holy shit.”

You laughed, “I’ve been this the whole time, the dress is just new.”

He chuckled in your ear, “Well, it’s gonna be a mess on the floor when I’m done with you.” His voice was silky smooth and his hands were tight on your body. He watched you get the door to the hotel room unlocked and enter with him trailing behind. He pressed you against the other side of the door and rubbed your ass through the dress. He groaned, “Fucking amazing. I’m gonna hate having to rip this dress.” And pushed up the short dress over your ass and palmed your flesh over your very thin panties.

“Then don’t, we can be civil, Tōru.” You chuckled, “We’re not animals. Now why don’t you keep those paws to yourself for a moment while I get this off.” You playfully pushed him away and he stepped back and loosened his tie. He pushed his hair back and smirked at you.

“Get on with it, sweetheart. I want you so fucking badly. You looked amazing and dinner, no wonder all that waiters were tripping over themselves. They say an angel reincarnated and couldn’t help it.

You unzipped the dress from the back, letting the long emerald sleeves fall off your shoulders. The bodycon dress would’ve made most women self conscious, but you wanted to look good for your Oikawa. Your boo, your baby.

And even with the thickness you had, you looked like a dream to him. He palmed himself through his jeans and licked his lips. He groped at his cock through his slacks and watched you peel off the dress.

You were left in matching black, lace panties and bra. They barely covered your nipples and your cunt. But you picked them out to just be alluring to Oikawa. You slipped off your heels and walked over to him. You pulled him for a kiss, and smeared some of your lipstick across his lips and cheek. His eyes rolled back and he found heaven in your lips.

When you pulled away, you took the tie off and kissed at his pulse, “Why don’t we get you out of this and get into that king in the next room. I want to give you your present.”

Next thing you knew, your athlete of a husband hand you pinned on the king sized bed. Your arms above your head as he made out with you. He was rutting against you, your pussy rubbed up against his cock.

His grip was tight and domineering. He was enticed by his beloved girl, his wife. He asked, “So where’s this gift? Because nothing could be better than this.”

“well, one thing.” You slipped your hands out of his grasp and rubbed his pecs in the small space between you too, “I took a little test and turns out it’s prime time to try for a baby.” Your gaze met his and you winked.

Oikawa’s mouth went dry for a moment before he said, “No way.” and his hands dug into the bed. His cock twitched against your pussy, “well then.” He smirked as he rested on his heels and looked down at you.

He palmed your breasts roughly and pinched your left nipple. His hands then trailed down your stomach till he reached your hips. His cock stood at full attention. It had a very important job to do tonight, breed you.

You giggled and tried to prop yourself up on your elbows but he pushed you back down onto the bed. You watched him spread your legs, exposing your wet sex to him. He ran a thumb up your clit and you shivered, nipples growing hard from it.

“So does this mean we’re making a baby?” You asked as you got more comfortable on the bed. You hooked your arms under the pillow and left your legs splayed open. You thrusted up a little bit and he gripped your hips.

“Yes.” He said simply before he lined his cock up with your entrance and pushed in. He was slow at first, but his thrusts didn’t remain like that for long. Soon enough his grip was tight on your hips and he was roughly thrusting against you.

“Oh, fuck. Tōru. Fuck, please. Get me pregnant.” Your eyes rolled back a little bit, you clutched the pillow under your head. Some of your hair was stuck to the back of your neck as he rocked back and forth roughly.

“Oh don’t worry.” he chuckled, “By the time I’m done with you, you’re going to be pregnant with multiples. This is the best gift ever.” He purred as he thrusted against you, his hands clamped onto your hips.

His panting was heavy, clothes were askew across the room and the main room of the hotel. Your moans matched his, your breasts bounced with each thrust that you tried to match with him.

“Yes, this feels fucking amazing.” He groaned, “That’s my good girl. My good girl with the tight cunt. I love you.”

“Please, Tōru. I love you too. So much. You’re my everything. Please make me feel good.” You panted loudly, noises of the bed and your bodies filled the room as you fucked together. Matching each other’s pace in every way.

There was no shame in two married people having the most mind blowing sex to make a baby. And if it didn’t work this time, there was always the next time and then the next. And when he did get you pregnant, he was going to fuck you till you popped.

The squelching of Oikawa’s cock buried into you, your ragged breathing. The groan of the bed. The jiggle of your breast, the sweat on your husband’s brow. This was perfect, the perfect birthday. Right before his team won Olympic volleyball.

“Please, Tōru.” You moaned, “I love you so much. You’re so fucking good. Please, oh fuck.” You panted as you felt sweat coat your body the more you got into it with him.

Two years of marriage and you still knew how to make each other feel amazing. You really wanted your husband to get you pregnant, you wanted him to fuck you full and breed you. As you grinded against him, feeling your bodies together.

Oikawa’s mouth went to your nipples and he licked at both of them. Pressed them together with his hands and lazily licked at your nipples. He sucked and nipped at them and you devolved into a flurry of loud moans and wild pants.

“Fuck, Kawa.” You gasped, “Please. Please, knock me up. I wanna be your breeding cow.” You whimpered loudly as the bed continued to creak.

Oikawa smirked and looked at you, his mouth open as a glob of spit dripped into your mouth. He was lost in the haze of his own lust. With a one track mind to get you pregnant by the end of tonight. He was a wild man like that sometimes, he wanted a child for so long that he never though the day would come.

This is what he wanted more than anything, more than title, more than Olympic gold. He continued to thrust into you and suck on your nipples, his hands bruising the skin around your breasts as he tugged on them. His cock felt heavy and throbbed inside of you as you two continued to fuck like animals.

Long forgotten the idea of being civil.

The bed moved and creaked, the your noises became louder. Oikawa spat in your mouth again and said, “I’m gonna knock you up full. And don’t think I’m gonna stop with one. You’re gonna have a whole volleyball team by the time I’m done with you.” His voice low and seductive, it made your now aching nipples hard as you felt chill go through you and your pussy gush wetness.

It didn’t take long before Oikawa’s silver, devilish tongue across your nipples, his hard cock inside of you and his words crept up your spine into pleasure. You gripped onto his shoulders, nail makes across sun kissed skin.

You panted and threw your head back roughly against the bed and said, “Tōru! Tōru! Fuck!” And came around his cock. You felt a rush of pleasure through your body and you lost track of yourself for a moment.

“That’s it.” He grunted, “Good girl.” And gave a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you. Making sure his cock was deep inside of you, he was going to get you pregnant.

He slowed down to a stop and pulled out of you, a string of cum connected the tip of his cock to your aching sex. He rested on his heels once more and looked at you body. He noticed a few bobby pins were on the bed and out of your hair, your breathing was laboured and your body was warm to the touch.

“That was amazing.” You panted.

He smirked, “Well, we’re going to have a long night together. My birthday isn’t over yet and I wanna drown your pussy in my cum. So get on those hands and knees and let’s keep going.” He gripped your thigh.

It was safe to say by the end of the Olympics, you were getting on the plane back home with the confidence that you were indeed pregnant and nine months later you had you big, strapping twin boys.

What a way to celebrate a birthday.

#oikawa x reader #oikawa imagine #oikawa fic #tooru oikawa #tooru oikawa x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu thirsts #oikawa smut #happy birthday oikawa #haikyuu x me #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x you #hq fluff #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq smut #smut

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 3 years

Text

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

#Jily #Part 1 #Of 3?#Honestly I just wanted to give you guys a treat

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sinisterlyhan · 3 years

Text

02. kim seungmin / 9435 words

female reader, virgin reader and virgin seungmin, oral (f & mreceiving), unprotected sex (this one is by choice, have safe sex everyone!), making out, fingering, angst with fluff

tw: light mentions of insecurities

a/n: hello, i am back after my sudden mini-hiatus to ruin everyone’s day! i have not written smut in a while, so i hope this piece isn’t too bad. also, the first part of this piece was originally posted on my sfw account so if you find something that is the exact same, that is also me.

you have always gotten emotional over seungmin leaving. even if it was just for a one-week christmas break with his friends, or a two-week music camp field trip with his choir group, or a two-month summer vacation with his family—you have gotten emotional over him leaving one way or another.

not dramatically, of course. it wasn’t like you were spilling waterfalls of tears and throwing temper tantrums over not being able to see or hold him for seven days straight; if that was the case, seungmin knew for a fact that he would not be able to handle it, especially since those absent days happen every single year.

you just get a little naggy, caringly naggy, like you’ve got amnesia every five minutes and you would keep reminding him to take care of himself, or make sure to have a good time, or think about you when he is away.

and seungmin does. he always does. whether it is at night on the soft hotel bed or walking down a loud foreign street, he makes space for you in his head and he shows that he has been thinking about you by sending you pictures and getting you souvenirs.

sometimes he becomes the annoying one because he keeps spamming you with pictures. you still remember playfully threatening to block his number after he sent you a frame by frame set of pictures, where you saw the entire process of jeongin tripping on jisung’s fallen body (because he tripped on thin air first) and falling to the ground.

it was a good blackmail material. you could pinpoint exactly the moment where jeongin realized he would be making friends with the brick ground, his eyes wide in alert and his arms flailing out in a poor attempt to grasp the air for support. when the boys came back from music camp that year, you made sure to give jeongin a big smooch on the head, which he begrudgingly accepted.

you have always gotten emotional over seungmin leaving. but not this time, not in a sense that you didn’t feel anything about his departure, it was just that… you were different this time.

you were ecstatic the first moment you heard that seungmin, along with his friends, passed theit idol audition and would get the chance to train under a prestigious entertainment. it has always been his dream to sing for people, you had been beyond proud of him to achieve the spot. it was until he broke it to you that he would have to move to seoul to pursue his opportunity when the realization finally dawned upon your silly, silly head.

he has to leave. he wasn’t breaking up with you, no, but he has to leave. for however many years it would take for him to qualify for debuting, and after that, there would be years of the dating ban, and then there would also be tight schedules and long distances.

seungmin was only leaving the city, but it felt like he was leaving you.

you left him to his own devices after that, stalling and wasting all the times you could have spent with him to make the remaining days count. you spared no playful nagging and no playful reminders, just unread texts and missed calls.

it was too much for you, you feared too much of the uncertainty—what if you couldn’t be patient enough for him? what if he couldn’t resist another’s seduction for you? what if the both of you couldn’t fight against time, the time that would pick and pinch at your affection for each other until there is nothing left to share?

seungmin zipped up his luggage just as the door to his bedroom knocked. he barely glanced behind his shoulder to look at it, his back arched in pure exhaustion at how his heart had been spiraling depressively for the past week. it was his last night in his home, his last night in his home city, that alone was enough to make him feel anxious and homesick.

but nothing had prepared him for how disastrously affected his heart would be when he realized he might have to leave without seeing you, without touching you, and without hearing that you love him once more.

the impatient knock came again and he finally stood up, his brows furrowed in annoyance. he moved over to his door, ready to tell his mother for the fifth time this night that he would not be changing his mind and he did remember to bring enough clothes, but when he swung open the door, it was you who stood before him instead.

“hey…” you said, clutching your jacket tightly.

he opened his mouth but only air slipped out. you looked as tired as he did, and he could tell you have cried yourself to sleep for the past days. as much as he wanted to immediately wrap you in his arms, to feel you against him, he found himself stepping aside and giving you space into his room first.

his room was as dim as it usually was during night time, when seungmin has the habit of turning off the main light on the ceiling and instead, flipping on the warmer light on the wall. it was a cloud-shaped light; seungmin hated it until you decided to decorate it with cartoon stickers during a sleepover. he has never looked at it the same way again.

the first thing you saw was the luggage on the floor, packed and ready to be sent away. your heart dropped slightly at its indication, then you quickly picked yourself back up. you have talked to yourself about this, you have thought about this and decided you wanted to support his dreams instead of dwelling in your misery until the sadness replaced itself with guilt and missed chances.

“you–you packed,” you said, gesturing towards the luggage on the floor before you turned around to face him.

“yeah.“ seungmin nodded. “i leave tomorrow morning.”

you hummed in defeated acknowledgment. the tension was more longing than awkward, the air waiting for one of you to break out of restraint first. turning to look at his opened closet, you raised a brow at the empty hangers lining up to the side of the closet before you finally caught sight of three colorful hoodies hung at the farthest corner.

you laughed meekly as you pointed at it, hiding the sobs in your throat. “you–you idiot! you forgot to pack your favorite hoodies.”

seungmin looked over, his fingers fiddling together nervously as his mouth hung open in a poor attempt to explain why he had left those there. his mind fired quickly and the first thing he did was only to state the obvious. “i am going to leave them here.”

you frowned at him, your lips curling down and your cheeks bulging out at the pressure.

seungmin softened at your incredulously curious eyes, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he waited for you to speak. “but why? you should at least take the blue one, you look so good in it and it’s your absolute favorite one.”

he licked his lower lip, a faint smile blossoming on his face. he stared at you, blinking gently. “it’s your favorite one. they’re your favorite hoodies too.”

you sucked in a rapid breath, understanding his intentions. he left those there for you, a token of your relationship, a token of his love. it was a way to tell you that he, until the last minute, still thought about you; a way that didn’t require the use of cheesy text messages or well thought out confessions, which he was never very good at anyway.

just three colorful hoodies in his empty closet, all of them covered in his warmth and his scent.

you bit your lower lip to hold down a sob as you walked over to the closet. it was much less messy than usual, which felt out of place for you. being able to see the shoe boxes stacked at the back of the closet was unfamiliar, they were usually covered by his shirts and sweaters, occasionally seeing the light of day when seungmin pushes the clothes to the side or you steal one of his shirts again.

peeling the light blue hoodies off the hanger, you carefully threw it over your head and marveled at the way that even though its fabric went loose around your torso, you felt fulfilled and warm wearing it. bringing your sweater paws up to your cheeks, you inhaled the sleeves and closed your eyes at the smell of flowery detergent mixed with seungmin’s familiar fragrance.

it was a match made in heaven; it was a smell you could recognize even if you were rid of most of your senses because for so long, it was what home smelt like to you, and it still is what home smells like to you.

would you forget, after years of separating from him? would you still remember it but somehow he stopped feeling like home anymore? would your heart lose him to time and distance?

seungmin sighed with the shattering of his heart when he heard you choke out a sob. you had begun to cry, your tears staining the hoodie sleeve as you wailed your fears and longings away, and he wasn’t very sure what to do. he was never good at handling criers because he wasn’t one, and neither were you before this happened.

“(name)…” he took a step forward but stopped when you turned around.

“i’m so sorry for ignoring you these weeks,” you said, your voice teary and timid, but loud and strong enough to make seungmin’s heart pound against his chest. “i’m sorry if i made you think i don’t support you and your dreams. i need you to know that i do and if you have to leave this place to go after it, you should.”

to be honest, the idea that you didn’t support him has never crossed his mind. he knew you would, for some reason. you had always been there for choir shows, you listened to him talk about all the musical things he did during camp despite not understand instrumental talk, you never failed to praise him for his incredible vocal talent—you had always been the first in line when it comes to him and singing.

you were upset, he understood, that he had to leave you here and he only gave you a two weeks notice that he would be leaving for years, plus the uncertainty that your relationship may never work out as smoothly as it could when he was still an unknown high school boy with big dreams.

he couldn’t get mad at you for avoiding him until the last minute.

for one, he understood why. he supposed he would be pretty disheartened if you did the same thing as well. for two, he just couldn’t bring himself to get mad at you at a time like this, when he needed his last memories of you to be nothing but loving and heartfelt.

heaving a sigh, he got on the bed and scooted to the middle where he sat with his feet dangling off the edge. he opened his arms and beckoned you over softly. “come here, my love.”

you did, stumbling closer to him until your thigh met with his feet. he leaned in to hold your hands, giving your arms a few childish swings before he pulled you on his lap, helping you position yourself by circling his arms around your waist and preventing you from falling off his thighs.

you sniffed when he kissed your cheeks, giggling in feign disgust when he grimaced with a complaint about your tears having a salty taste, and you burst into another fit of feathery laughter when he went to smooch your cheeks again just to mend the dry trail of waterfalls down your skin.

“i missed you so much,” you muttered, your voice almost giving away as you cupped his jaw in your hands and stared into his heart-shaped eyes.

“i missed you too,” he mumbled under his breath, bringing you closer to him unconsciously. “i am so sorry for making you cry.”

you hummed in disagreement as you lightly shook your head. your fingers pressed against his cheeks, clinging to them and hugging his face carefully in a way seungmin never wanted you to let go. your accepting smile made him fall, again and again, and he had to hold himself down so he wouldn’t kiss you right then and there.

“i’m sorry for wasting all these times, we could have been this close every night,” you said quietly, trailing over his features with your teary eyes. “i hope i am not too late.”

seungmin smiled, his eyes squinting with a crinkle of his nose. you can never be too late for him, his heart is ready for you at any moment of his remaining life, whether it is thinking about you quietly or having you pressed near his body.

seungmin will always be ready for you, all that you will give him and all that he is ready to give you.

“it’s never too late to kiss me,” he whispered close to your lips, feeling your back squirm under the weight of his words.

rolling your eyes at his words, you squeezed his cheeks before gladly leaning in so you could press your lips against his. his fingers gingerly clawed at your lower back as he other hand flew up to hold your wrist, any attempt just to touch your bare skin.

god, your lips. your soft, soft lips, made out of sugar and spice. he could play a thousand strings and sing a thousand words about them; about how kissing you always make him feel so needed and loved, how it makes him feel like there is nothing else he can do better aside from giving you every ounce of strength he has.

it opens a gate to his heart he didn’t even know he had, one only you can open because you are the key.

with the influence of his excited heart, seungmin suddenly started to graze your lip with his teeth, his brows furrowing passionately when he caught your lower lip between them.

you let out a breathy moan, surprised. but you only had too little time to dwell in the shock before you opened your mouth and allowed seungmin to do whatever he wanted.

adrenaline rushed up to your lungs, causing a ruckus beneath your bones as your mind chased itself into chaos. he has never kissed you with such urgency before, with silent pleads pierced in the tip of his tongue and desperate longing tattooed in the way he moved against you. he was kissing you to make you breathless, to make your burn with revelation.

seungmin kissed you intending to linger, so the shape and the taste of his lips will haunt you every day and night when he is away. and damn, it was so good, you were drenched in blissful abandon to let him take full control over you.

amidst this heated moment, seungmin forced himself to pull away for a brief moment to allow his hazy mind to settle down. both of you were adrift somewhere in paradise and both of you had no plans of returning any time sooner.

you kept yourself close to him, your upper lip positioned tenderly against his, taunting him to resist, daring him to let go once more. your eyes were as gone as seungmin’s were when you stared into them, and you inwardly worshipped the way his inky black eyes, devoured in thunderstorms and fallen ashes, could pull you to him so effortlessly.

“i love you, okay?” he declared breathlessly, but his tone was filled to the brim with sincerity. “i love you, three or ten years from now.”

three or ten years from now, whether he only gets to talk to you every weekend or every three months, whether it would be easy to find the right time to catch up with each other or if the process would make him want to pull his hair out—seungmin loves you, and he will wait until he can love you.

“wait for me, please,” he pleaded then, the ocean in his eyes seemed brighter and ready to spill, causing heartache in your chest. he was clutching the hoodie and pressing your hand to his cheek, his shaky movements only calming down at your warmth.

wait for me. seungmin was asking. wait for me, remember me, hold on to me.

you felt like crying again. the volcanic sadness stays no matter how many times you convince yourself things would turn out fine, that you could live without him being near you eventually.

you could deal with the quiet, you could deal with not anticipating his presence when you leave home, you could deal with the untouched skin and unkissed lips. yes, you could, you have to.

“i will, i promise” you replied in a hush, lowering your head. “i’m going to miss you so much.”

seungmin pressed his thumb to your eye carefully, swiping across the wet corners and making you chuckle as you leaned against his palm, looking up at him again.

“i will text you all the time. if i don’t, my friends will,” he grumbled with a scoff, remember how bitter he felt when it took jeongin no amount of effort to get your phone number back then while he had to stall a whole week before mustering up the courage to do so. “we will keep in touch, we all will.”

“you guys better,” you said threateningly, kind of threateningly, making him smile.

and he kissed you again, much softer this time. it was to seal a sacred vow one would find harder to break than any else’s, an oath shared by two teenagers who are so genuinely, so tenderly, and so tragically in love with each other.

“how early are you leaving tomorrow?” you asked after pulling away, adjusting your legs so instead of sitting in a kneeling posture, they wrapped around his lower back, making it much more comfortable for you and giving you two more space to be closer to each other.

“hmm, since we have to take the bus to the train station and we are meeting up at the bus stop around the school before going there together…” he calculated in his head, a pout forming on his lips due to the concentration. “i think i’ll have to leave around seven in the morning.”

that was earlier than you thought. but either way, you never planned to see him off anyway. turning into a crying mess in public early in the morning would not be a plan; if you could, you would rather let him leave just as things are—a soft goodbye to your sleeping form, and maybe you will sob on his bed for a while after you wake up.

“i am not going to the train station with you,” you said, running your hands through his hair before circling your arms around his neck into a hug. you sighed. “so it is just going to be tonight.”

“okay.” seungmin flashed you a faint smile, a bittersweet but endearing one. his pinky gently tucked at a piece of your hair, his fingers brushing back against your temple and falling to your ear. “do you need anything from me before I go?”

“you should be the one getting something from me. i never gave you a congratulatory gift for getting through your audition,” you said with a laugh, tapping his nose with your index finger and pressing your chest up against his for a needed closeness. “i am very proud of you, seungmin.”

he gave you a peck. “thank you.”

and you two just looked at each other. affectionately drawn towards the other like how north sticks to south. you couldn’t help but whisper a loving confession, brushing his hair as the words “i love you” left your lips like a secret only seungmin gets to hear.

“i love you too,” he returned immediately, his eyes shutting for a brief moment to allow the rush of euphoria. then they flutter open so he could look at you and ask, “are you sure you don’t want anything from me?”

you thought for a moment, your brows furrowing in thoughts. there were not many things you wanted to ask from him, most of those you do were out of his ability to accomplish, such as not leaving you here.

“call me when you get there,” you reminded him.

“of course,” he hummed. “what else?”

you sighed, keeping your eyes on him as it hit you that there really wasn’t anything else you needed from him. you just needed him, and you had him the moment you stepped into his room, so you figured you should get the most and the best out of it.

seungmin could see where your eyes were and believe it or not, he was totally on the same page. it was not the type of nights he wanted to spend with words. there were only senses and feelings that he wanted to have threaded through his veins this night, be it loud or quiet, tender or rough, or perhaps both of each opposite.

you leaned in, your eyes moving up from his lips to look into the windows of his brilliant soul. “stay with me,” you breathed into his mouth, “until you leave me.”

seungmin wasted no time to claim your lips once more, rough exhales fanning against your face as he desperately kissed you to fulfill the insatiable desire he held for you. he could feel it in his guts—the cunning and greedy burn beneath his ribs that held so much he wanted to say to you, that the words of his inadequate language were unable to express enough, were threatening to explode from the brisk of his skin.

in all that the world could offer, languages of all places and phrases of all great minds, the only word he knew were you, you, you. and he wasn’t even able to speak it. all he could show you of how he called out to you was through his action; the tug of his hands at your waist and the bite of his teeth at your lower lip.

you squeezed his shoulders, your eyes closing upon the familiar taste of his mouth on your tongue when he boldly slipped past your gently parted lips. the softness that once graced seungmin’s being was long gone. he was hasty now, needy and desperate for all of you, and all you could do was comply with him.

your chest heaved with a low moan when he bit your lip again, his hand pressing you down against his abdomen. your body relaxed against his with a shiver, yet your thighs squished at his sides upon the ever-growing arousal under your waist when you felt him, vividly, against you.

“min–“ you pulled away, looking into his eyes with all vulnerability you have ever left hanging at the lashes of your eyes. you looked at him, your hands running up the side of his face and spreading within his hair, and your shaky gaze scanned his entire face as if your patience was running thin.

he beat you to begging for the intimacy, his face leaning close toward yours just to feel the bone of your nose nudging against his own. there was something about his utter lack of ability to be away from you at this moment.

he was not physically attached to you, but there was nothing else he wanted more of the world than to be so. he would do anything; he would tear down hell and break through heaven, he would destroy the sun and shoot down the stars if it meant to keep you beautifully by his side.

he needed to be attached to you, the love of his life.

“i need you,” he whispered, “please.”

his breath was demanding, but also teasing in a way that he wanted to make this comfortable and loving for you, as opposed to the upsetting farewell you two were having.

you shivered, your half-lidded eyes staring at each shadow that cast over his face in his dim room. your hands dropped from his hair, causing a faint look of disappointment in his eyes, but that was gone as quickly as it came when he realized that you were reaching for the hem of his blue hoodie.

you tugged at the soft fabric, making sure you brought your shirt along with it when you slowly slid them up your body and finally over your head.

the first thing his eyes gravitated toward was your chest, covered by a random bra you threw on because you did not anticipate the visit to turn out like this. he watched with an itchy hand and an unbreathable throat when your hand reached behind your back to unhook your bra. you slid it off your shoulders, showing him your breasts, and you tried to hide your shyness by looking away as you discarded your bra somewhere on the floor.

seungmin’s eyes were glued to your chest, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. you almost wanted to laugh at the hanging of his jaw and the way he was blatantly staring at your close to naked chest, but you kept the amusement to yourself and went ahead to cup the side of his face, bringing his attention back to your face.

you smiled, but then you pursed your lips and begun to shrink into yourself when you realized this was the most naked you’ve ever been with a boy before. not to mention how unconfident you have always been with the way your body looked. the way his eyes were glued to your chest was starting to become a look of judgment rather than an action out of surprise and fondness.

his eyes widened when you suddenly squealed, your head lowering and your forehead bumping against his shoulder. he laughed a little, his hands moving to your wrists before he gently pushed you away from you. you were frowning slightly, your brows furrowed with an uncertain pout on your face, and you refused to look at him until he tipped your chin up with your hand.

he wasn’t too sure why you were acting this way, but what he did know was that this was your first time, as well as his. sex is a foreign subject. that kind of intimacy is drastically different than holding hands, or cuddling, or making out, or even having late-night philosophical talks until you fall asleep on the phone.

both of you were feeling chilled to the bones with both anticipation and nervousness about how things could go, and both of you probably wanted everything to feel good and perfect.

so if you were hiding from him because you changed your mind, then he’d want you to know you could back out. he could deal with what happened in his pants by himself later.

“you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said, poking your nose, “we can just watch a movie, or we can talk until we fall asleep if you want.”

the pout on your face faded slightly upon his words; a kind offer, but one you didn’t need. you flashed him a deadpan smile, your hands moving to clamp atop of his shoulders again as you spoke, “it’s not that. i do want to do this with you, i don’t think there is anybody else in the world i’d want to do this with! it’s just… my… my boobs…”

his eyes drifted down at them and he looked back up at you. “they’re great.”

“they are.” you were doubtful.

“they’re boobs, babe. any boobs are great–“

“seungmin.”

“okay, okay!” he nodded with a fit of a giggle, then he moved in to kiss your lips. his hands moved to roam your sides, brushing tenderly across your skin and creating a trail of goosebumps on his way. he kept kissing you as he spoke, a kiss every other word he let out. “they are great. your body, i love it because it’s yours, and i can’t believe i’m allowed to touch you like this right now.”

you blushed with a heat rushing up your cheeks, burning hotly under his words and the way he kept kissing you. how sweet and cheesy, but you didn’t mind it much. you were too drowned in being adored by him to care about criticizing anything he says or does, you just wanted this moment to keep going so you could finally plunge into the real act.

keeping your hands at the nape of his neck, you moved your lips with his for a second longer before you moved away, making him whine with a low hum.

his hands stayed at your side as if they were afraid, and you were getting impatient. panting, your voice was raspy when you said, “you can touch me more.”

seungmin raised his brows at the permission. his heart sped up at the thought of going beyond your waist and your back. he was thinking about it, but each time he felt the side of his palm brush against the soft skin under your breasts, he flinched away with timidity simultaneously as he grew needier for your body.

he couldn’t let himself just touch you, he supposed, it would be such a bold thing to do. he felt like if he ever did, he would have to find a way to preserve the feeling, and he was very unprepared for that.

“seungmin…” you called out in a feminine voice when he didn’t respond, one that sounded so needy it would surely get him riled up. your hands moved to grab his, bringing them up your body until they almost met at your breasts. “touch me.”

a tease, what a tease. it was only your first time and you were being a tease, looking so divine and perfect on top of his lap you tested his composure and his control over his patience.

he exhaled.

you asked for it.

seungmin took you by complete surprise when he moved. hoisting you off his lap, you felt yourself dip sideways before your back met the soft cover of his bed. he hovered over you, his body stuck between your spread legs, and his hands squeezed your waist to set you in place before he reached down to capture your lips again. you followed his lead, feeling his hand roam across your stomach before they finally moved up to your breasts.

a breath got caught in your throat when he cupped his hands over the roundness. he fondled them, squeezing and pressing his palm against them just to feel your hardened nipples against him. he hummed out in satisfaction when you trembled under his touch, unfamiliar but pleasing, and he let go of your mouth to hear your noises while he moved down your jaw and your neck to leave trails of love marks on your skin as a goodbye gift.

you tilted your head to the side so he has more space to plant his bruises. you could feel his teeth graze you, and he was sucking on your skin so hard you felt pressure within the spot. it was forcing you to make friends with the reality and the level of intimacy you two were venturing into.

he was on top of you, kissing you, dropping crosses on your body, fondling your breasts, and his hips occasionally grinding at your bottom so he could temporarily press down the impulsivity inside his pants.

this was the reality; you two were about to become whole, you want you both to become whole.

seungmin moved away in the heat of the moment, his hands hastily reaching to pull his shirt off his body as well before he dove back to your collarbones and went down, his lips worshipping the veins and bones hidden under your skin. he took your breast in his mouth, sucking on your nipple and flicking the bud with his tongue. you arched your back at the sensation, so foreign yet exciting that you couldn’t help but push down on his head with the same hand that once carded gently through his hair, wanting more and more of him.

he was never going to leave you, though. his lips stayed attached to your body, kissing you down and everywhere he could reach, his tongue darting out the lick wet spots on your delicacy. it was until he reached the hem of your shorts when he paused—this was the place. he eyed up at you, catching the weak and pleading look in your eyes once, then he gingerly moved his fingers to unbutton and unzip your shorts. he carefully slid it off your hips, his fingers tugging against your panties on the way until you were completely naked under him.

the last of your clothes dropped to the ground without a care. seungmin was glued to the glistening sight of your exposed heat. your curled your fists, nervous about what he was thinking as he stared at you. your legs felt shaky as you thought of whether you wanted to close your knees or not, and before you could make a decision for yourself, seungmin already stumbled forward on his knees and brought himself to the edge of his bed.

he grabbed your ankles, his grip soft as he brought your legs over his shoulders with a nod of his head. you let him guide you through the ordeal—resting your ankles on his shoulders and pulling you forward to him. he curled his hands around your thighs when you were close enough.

you flinched, a quick and shivering flinch, when you felt his lips against your cunt. your knees almost smashed his head if he hadn’t tightened his grip on your thighs to keep you from moving. your eyes stayed wide open, staring dizzily at the ceiling, as seungmin continued to do experimental kisses against your wet pussy. one, two, three, four, before he decided it was time for him to dart his tongue out.

he flicked against your clit, miraculously finding it on his first try and staying there when he saw your positive reaction. he abused it, licking and sucking on the bundle of nerves until your bud was protruding and even a little painful from all the stimulation. but he didn’t let himself stop there. the lovely and filthy noises you were letting out, paired with the call of his name over and over again, was too much of a blessing for him to let up.

he continued with his pleasuring, grazing his teeth against your skin as he sucked on you, his fingers making an entrance by slowly sliding himself inside your warm cunt. he didn’t want to do too much so he paid attention to your reaction. it was an ego boost each time you arch your back and moan his name. he has never been better than this.

your legs trembled on his shoulders, having never felt such sudden jolts before and your senses were not familiar with receiving such pleasure. your lips were parted to let out huffs of little whimpers and moans as you relish in the feeling of his touch—a brand-new feeling of joy seungmin was graciously gifting you that was unlike all the others.

you were being touched, you felt touched, and he was willing to do so even when you weren’t sure if you deserved it. such simple ways to make you happy; all he needed was himself, and the lovingness in all of his movements done to your sensitive body.

“fuck–seungmin, seungmin!”

you tried to find words to say in the midst of the pumping of his fingers. your walls were clenching down on the intrusion, coating his fingers with your slickness until it became a slip-and-slide to go in and out of you. you were wet, oh so very wet, and it was all his doing. he could taste your arousal on his tongue and he kept wanting more, so he moved quicker with his hand as if he could fuck more juices out of you with it. your legs bent, hitting his shoulder blades, and you moved your hand down to his head where you tugged at his hair.

“seungmin! you–i’m going to–“ you whimpered out, seeing fading stars in your eyes, “please fuck me, fuck me first!”

he stopped, the manic look in his eyes fading at your words. pulling his fingers out of you, the stickiness not bothering him, he stood up and moved onto the bed and left you cold with an approaching orgasm that would soon fade. he wasn’t much thinking about that—he was still thinking about that, but there was something else he needed to make sure first: did you ask him to stop because you wanted to cum with him inside you? did you want to orgasm from him fucking you with his cock? was that what you wanted, that’s why you made him stop?

oh, but the thought alone… the thought of you orgasming because of him, the thought of you reaching that ultimate pleasure because of him. it would surely be an honor to behold.

he leaned down to your face, his eyes genuine and also somewhat worried as looked at you. taking his clean hand, he brushed the hair out of your sweaty forehead and kissed your eyes. “what do you want?”

you exhaled, your hands awkward so they settled against his warm chest. looking up at him with round and wide eyes, you asked politely, “can you fuck me, seungmin?”

“i was,” he hummed, his other hand casually reaching back down to your heat.

the confidence came when he realized his ability to please you, and he decided he could set his needs aside and toy with you for some reactions he would savor in his head for the rest of his life. he pressed the tip of his fingers against your hole, dipping in but not letting your feel full by inserting.

he played with you, watching as you squirm with a needy expression when he wouldn’t give you what you want, feeling as you bucked your hips up for his hand and asked for him to touch you, and finally when you exhaled in relief as he finally moved his fingers inside your pussy.

“i was fucking you, (name), with my mouth,” he said. “i am fucking you right now.”

oh, but it wasn’t his tongue and his fingers that you wanted the most. he knew that. you knew he knew that as well. he was good with them, it was heavenly a moment ago when he was kneeling on the floor, but nothing could beat the excitement in your chest that was waiting for when he finally stretches you out and officially takes your virginity by colliding his body with yours. you wanted it, both the pain and the pleasure that would follow.

you wanted to be around seungmin and make him feel good as well, and most importantly, you wanted your first orgasm to be when you were near him, the love of your life. you wanted to cum feeling him inside you.

“i want your–“ you shut your mouth in defeat, looking at him with a pout as if that would soften him up.

seungmin smiled at your adorableness, but he as he dragged the back of his finger down your face, his other hand still pumping in and out of your cunt but his pace has since slowed down, all he asked was, “you want my what?”

“you’re pushing it,” you mumbled as you gave him a deadpan look, “i even acted cute for you.”

pulling out of your heat, he grinned with a roll of his eyes. then he shook his shoulders as if throwing a tantrum, his lips puckering slightly as he playfully hit his fist against your chest. “just say it once! i want to hear you say it!”

“seungmin, i’m shy!” you complained, shoving him lightly.

“you weren’t so shy when you were moaning like a minute ago!”

“seungmin!”

“just ask me, just say you want my dick and i’ll give it to you, i promise,” he said, knowing well he would have given it to you regardless of you asking or not.

you huffed, the corner of your lips quirking downward as you glared at him before you mumbled, “i want your cock.”

“what?”

“i want your cock, seungmin,” you pleaded louder this time, looking impatient and annoyed with your furrowed brows and the stuttering movement of your shoulders.

“good girl.” he smiled and pinched your cheek. “see? that wasn’t so hard.”

you took your time with grumbling a complaint about his action. but, however you wanted to see it, he did make you feel more at ease with having sex for the first time. the playful way he talked to you just a minute ago made it feel as if this was just any ordinary activity, and there was nothing you needed to be afraid of. it was just you and him together, and he would take care of you like he always has. you would be fine with him.

the thought diminished for a quick second, though, when you saw that he has taken off his pants and boxers. your opened your mouth, your eyes couldn’t help but stare at his hardened shaft, and all you could do the next second was turn away with an uncontrolled laugh bubbling out your throat.

seungmin looked up slightly at the noise, trying to recognize it, and when he realized you were laughing, he immediately snapped his head to you with a look of utter disbelief.

“are you laughing?” he asked, accusingly if you listened carefully.

you shook your head, your hand failing to cover up the giggles of your throat. “no, i’m not–not specifically at you, i swear!”

he moved over to you, his elbows supporting his upper body as he grabbed your face and made you look at him. he squished your cheeks together as you continued to laugh, your eyes turning intensely into little moons when you saw the hilarious look on his face. he looked you then, the sight of your lips quirking up into such a bright smile was something he took a mental image of. and your giggles trailed into his ears, hammering against the empty space in his head looking for a permanent home. he let the sound of you in with only a single knock.

seungmin softened, allowing him a smile as well. looking at you now, feeling you warm and safe against him now, almost made him want to abandon his dream and just stay here with you forever. how could he leave you—his girl, his favorite person, his best friend. he wanted to be with you all the time.

but he somehow knew you wouldn’t agree to that, you would push him to chase after his goal, so he will. he will miss this when he leaves. the sound of your laughter, the way he could make you snort and scream and make the prettiest and ugliest expressions.

he will miss everything about you during every waking second of his days without you near him, but even time would fail to take him away from you because he would love you through every second of it until he could see you again.

pressing his forehead against yours, he giggled with you. “what are you laughing at, (name)?”

“nothing! i promise!” you replied loudly, then you settled down with a quiet hum in your chest. you reached up for his hands, smiling at him. “i love you.”

“i love you as well,” he said, moving his nose against yours as his voice came out in a fearsome whisper, “please say you want me again.”

your eyes relaxed into a scratch of affection. they moved across his face, taking him in, soaking his feature in you, and you kissed his mouth to speak it into him, “i want you, kim seungmin.”

it was a risk when he pushed himself inside you, raw and bare, but it was a risk you thought you ought to take at this age, and a risk you knew you wouldn’t have regretted taking. he went in slow, his lips moving across your face to soothe out the pained creases while you clutched his arm tightly upon the burn of the stretch. he was bigger than you thought, it felt different, bigger, than when you looked at it.

he kissed you when he moved, hoping to get you to adjust to his size and to get himself more acquainted with the warmth of your walls around him. you didn’t mind the slowness of his thrusts, they were soft and undemanding, they were solid and memorable. you could feel every inch of him sliding within, the slickness of your walls helping him move easier amongst the tightness. your bodies collided again and again with hot exhales fanning against your faces as both of you tried not to go crazy for the feeling of each other.

seungmin kept his hands moving around your body. the map he could never forget; he would always come back to this place in his memories, in the dead of the night when he felt alone. the juncture between your bones, your delicate skin, and your warmth that covered his entirety so perfectly as you sucked him into your body, taking him so well he thought there was no place else he could be.

he only moved faster upon your request. he rutted against you, trying so hard not to get lost in the euphoric sensation that he would begin snapping his hips against yours at a pace that could bring him to the edge even quicker. he needed to relish at this moment where the sensuality happens, and he wanted to feel all of you here alone. but while knowing he wouldn’t go faster, he did want to go deeper into you.

he kissed your lips, swallowing your moans, as he gently hiked your leg up to his back until it rested near his shoulder. he gave you a sharp pound and you let out a choked noise at the heart-pounding feeling it gave you. he inhaled, moving his cock harsh against it and pushing toward that inner part of your cunt again to get another immediate reaction out of you.

your eyes rolled up this time, your jaw dropping with a loud whine that you thought his parents would have heard in their bedroom, but you were unable to bring yourself to think at all, you just wanted more.

seungmin smiled. that was the spot. that was the spot he was looking for.

“is that okay?” he huffed out, thrusting into you, “did you like that?”

“ah–yes, seungmin,” you breathed out, your back arching as the same spot got hit over and over again, waves and waves of pleasure lapping at your veins. you nodded, your hands clutching his arms with whines falling alive at your lips. “fuck, that feels really good.”

he smiled at your approval, feeling the tension at his back relax upon knowing that he wasn’t doing anything wrong. you were enjoying him as much as he was enjoying you. the reciprocation was delightful to acknowledge, especially in a moment as such where he wanted to leave an impression for you to remember by later if you so needed to. he knew he would because thinking about being so close to you would soon be the only escapism he has.

the gentle yet filthy words he had begun whispering into your ears made you feel all tingly and edged. his words praised you, his words worshipped every move you made and every surface of your being, his words loved you as much as his body was loving you.

they made you shiver by embracing your little soul, unraveling you slowly by breaking down the walls of your assumed unworthiness, and they did not dump you to the ground to repair yourself.

seungmin was here, the whole time, for you to reach out to.

he is always ready for you. even with the distance and limits that you were so very afraid of, he will always be ready for you.

sucking in a deep, teary breath, one that paired with a light whimper as you felt your high approaching with each thrust, you reached up for your boyfriend. you circled your arms around his neck, bringing him down to you so you could kiss him fervently. your leg fell off without his support but they clung over his waist to bring him closer with tightening of your muscles.

seungmin’s hands laid flat to the side of your head upon your beckoning, caging you under him as he slotted his mouth longingly against yours, his brows furrowing at the passionate kiss.

“you’re my heart, min,” you confessed softly against his eyes, “i love you.”

he could feel the tears in your eyes but they weren’t falling just yet. he hoped they wouldn’t fall, he wouldn’t know what else he could do aside from kissing those tears away until he has to leave you tomorrow morning. giving you a nod, he rubbed the side of your face with his thumb and smiled endearingly down at your face. “wait for me, okay?”

wait for him, and he will dream, always, about your eyes when you laugh, the way you shove him when he tells a lame joke, and the mediocre food you cook for him during weekend hangouts. he will dream about coming back to your side, about holding and kissing you again, about the intimacy he has carefully shifted into a precious spot of his head.

wait for him to come home so he could make all the dreams come true again.

you nodded hastily, partly because your walls had started to clench on his shaft impossibly upon the tightening of your abdomen. getting closer, seungmin snapped his hips against yours, trying to bring you over the edge and push you down for the ultimate rapture. he looked—stared—at you when your peak approached, a rush of warmth coating his skin as you came around his hard cock, burying him in a blissfully hot place.

your eyes rolled skyward, and he could feel your fingers tightening around his neck, your nails digging into his skin upon the overwhelming pleasure.

he moved, holding your hands through your orgasm, fucking the intensity out slowly and settling you down. he watched as you breathed, waiting for your panting to come to a halt before he picked up his speed again so he could find his own climax. you held him close to you, feeling him hard inside you and giving out light moans upon the feeling of strange friction against your walls.

you could tell when he was getting close, considering his movement become even more stuttered and erratic when he was about to lose himself in you.

he knew better than to cum in you, though. before he could reach his high, he pulled out of you and moved away slightly, his hand going down to pump at his length instead. you blinked—right, you forgot, you two did not use protection. the whiny sounds coming out of seungmin’s mouth helped you come back to your senses and you quickly sat up.

you replaced his hand with yours, an amused gleam evident in your eyes when he stared at you with confusion while being pushed down on the bed by your hand.

you leaned your body down, pumping him to keep him aroused while you found a comfortable position to lay on, and without a second thought, you took him in your mouth. he hissed in surprise, his thighs flexing at the lukewarm sensation of your mouth around his cock, as well as the gentle suction of your inner-cheeks. he pressed his head against the pillow, his mouth hung ajar with whimsical huffs as he buried his hand on your hair, needing something to grab onto as you sucked him off.

the way his cock disappears into your mouth, his tip poking at your cheek with each bob of your head, and how you choked around him when his tip hit the back of your throat was a bliss all too intense for him to handle at once. what was he to do—he knew he could not hold on much longer.

he has never felt his way before, his own hand was inadequate to provide the satisfaction you were giving him. the licks of your tongue, the graze of your teeth, the wrap of your lips; nothing could compare to this, he was drowning in abandonment and this was no false heaven.

his hip bucked into your mouth when he emptied himself in it, a loud groan leaving his lips. you let out a strangled noise of surprise when the bitter taste hit your throat, your eyes widening in dismay but you made yourself take all of him. you sucked all the way back up to his tip, your lips popping off with an audible noise, then you reached up to wipe away the saliva away. you panted, his cum slowly dripping down your throat, and you smiled at him when he looked at you.

“that was…” he licked his lower lip for a second, then he decided against talking and instead raised his arms to beckon you closer to him. “come here.”

you moved over to him, your body slumping down next to his as he brought you into his arms. your lips locked for the millionth times tonight, unable to get enough of each other when each time there was a new taste to the kiss you shared.

“that was my first time,” you commented after pulling away, laying your head on his arm.

“so was mine,” he said, even though you knew.

you sighed then, a blissful sigh. “i’m glad it was with you.”

“so am i,” he whispered against your temple, and when he felt that you wanted to make a joke out of his words, he held you tighter against him and he scoffed. “you know what i mean.”

you giggled, “i do… i just want to make fun of you while i still can.”

“i can’t believe i am about to say this but,” he paused for dramatic effect, “you can make fun of me whenever you want to.”

“you’re right!” you exclaimed, turning on your side so you could look at him. “after you debut, if i catch you doing anything embarrassing on variety shows, i hope you know i will never let you live it down.”

“hey, that’s not fair,” he whined. “one of the main elements in variety shows is to embarrass their guest.”

“yeah, that’s why they can be so unfunny sometimes,” you muttered.

he laughed along with you. that was all he could do; talk about the future as if it wouldn’t be painful, talk about it in light-hearted ways until you could surely let it go.

he caressed your cheek with his thumb, his eyes unable to leave your face. “i’ll come back to you. i don’t know how long you will have to wait, but i promise i’ll find the time.”

“text me a lot?” you asked. he nodded.

“and call me, it doesn’t have to be face time but call me,” you asked. he nodded.

“don’t fall in love with other people,” you asked.

“i won’t,” he answered this time.

and there was nothing more you needed from him.

you sighed, snuggling closer to his warm body so you could breathe with your head on his chest. even though you might wake up finding yourself alone in his room and your head on a pillow, the hollowness stronger than ever, you still moved closer to him. falling asleep to his heartbeat was worth waking up to his ghost.

“then just stay with me now.”

stay with me until you leave me.

seungmin can do that.

#stayverse #stayhavennet #inkidz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids dark hours #skz dark hours #seungmin smut #kim seungmin smut

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 3 years

Text

Miss Americana (Part 3)

Summary: The reader recovers from her second dose of Compound V and explores her stronger abilities with Dean. But the events of a fun night out might give Miss Americana and Soldier Boy an unlikely ally...

Masterlist

Pairing: Soldier Boy!Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,900ish

Warnings: language, implied past torture/assault/killings

A/N: Enjoy this final part! This contains very minor spoilers for The Boys...

______

“Let me hide this stuff and I’ll be back in five, okay?” he asked. You nodded, Dean cupping your cheek before he was gone. It was barely a minute before he was returning, wearing sweats and a henley, a box under his arm. “Brownies from the bakery down the block.”

“I thought you liked pie.”

“I do. But you like brownies,” he said. “Something to look forward to after you spend the night shaking and sweating.”

“Lovely,” you said. He sat down beside you, urging you to lean into him. He tucked a blanket over your legs, watching the fire crackle. “I don’t think I mind if you’re a monster.”

“I can be pretty horrible.”

“You’re not horrible to me. You’ve never been that way. Even if your first instinct was to try to manipulate me you decided not to.”

“I hate most people. Think they’re worthless. Only care about myself.”

“So? I told you when we met...I’m the nice bad guy. I frankly don’t give a fuck anymore about being the pushover, the one that gets hurt. I just want to never be afraid again.”

“We never have to be afraid after tonight. Never,” he said. “You’ll be stronger than Homelander. Stronger than me. You’ll be safe.”

“For a bad guy, you were awfully nice giving me that dose with no strings attached.”

“There’s no strings,” he said. He stroked your arm when you shivered.

“Partners?” you asked. He leaned down, kissing you more gently than he ever had. No need behind it.

“I like partners,” he said. He was warm as you started to feel cool, Dean drawing shapes on your bare skin. “I had a little brother.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“He got sick right after I shipped out. Died the morning I got my first dose of Compound V. Only reason I volunteered for the shot. They said volunteers got special benefits. I wanted my brother to get to a good hospital and proper care and he was already dead by the time I got my shot. Then uh, then some of us started dying cause they didn’t know dosages or shit. I thought at least Sam’s gonna be okay. Then I spent three days wishing it would kill me so I could be with him instead of having been away for the last year of his life. But I didn’t die. I was the only one. Then they gave me more and...I guess I enjoyed becoming the super soldier over grieving. Then it goes to your head and changes you and...Sammy wouldn’t even recognize me now. At least I know I’m not going to the same place he wound up so he won’t have to see.”

“What was that like, being honest just now,” you asked, goosebumps covering your skin. You bundled into him more, Dean pulling up the blanket.

“I miss Sammy. I haven’t thought about him in years. I hope the kid’s happy wherever he is.”

“Maybe you’ll see him again someday,” you said. You shook, sweat forming all over you, muscles aching. You turned, unable to get comfortable. “How long does this last?”

“About six hours. Then I passed out and when I woke up it was over.”

“Awesome.” You gripped the blanket tight, Dean massaging your tense shoulders. “Tell me more about Sammy. Please.”

“He absolutely hated being called Samuel,” said Dean with a chuckle. “So naturally I did it all the time when we were kids.”

“Keep going,” you said, stomach churning briefly. “Distract me.”

“Let me tell you about the time we jumped off the shed roof.”

You were in sweaty clothes when you woke, lifting your head off Dean’s chest to find him passed out and snoring lightly. You sat up, shaking out your head. Something was different. You stood, deciding to test out flying first. You yelped when you nearly hit the ceiling, freezing and plopping straight down onto the couch and Dean.

He groaned awake, peeling open his eyes to find you hovering above him.

“Sweetheart I’m all for a little rough in the bedroom but not a full body tackle awake,” he said. You moved to the side, the motion second nature quickly but it required much less effort than before. You looked around, nothing in the room heavy enough to test your strength. Dean sat up, smirking as he looked at you. “Wanna arm wrestle?”

“Yes!” you said, Dean chuckling, groggily taking a seat at the counter. You stood on the other side of the island, Dean clasping your hand.

“Let’s go,” he said. You squeezed, Dean keeping up with you for a good few seconds before he started to go down fast. You heard the counter creek and then it was breaking, Dean backing up.

“Uh,” you said.

“Don’t worry about it. What do you expect when you got supes in the place? But you, you’re stronger. Stronger than me,” he said. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Very good. I um, I’d like to go fly. I think I might be faster.”

“Go for it. I’ll call someone to get this fixed. Just be careful. Try not to fly into any planes.”

“I’ll do my best, Soldier Boy.”

“Again?” asked Dean that night. You flew up high and smiled, Dean letting go of you, free falling a few seconds before you dove down and caught him. He giggled and you flew higher, Dean jumping off. You could heard him laughing and went down, something hitting you on the way. You threw a punch and arms released you, Dean holding on tight when you finally caught up with him. You both looked up and glared, a cape and pair of red eyes looking down. “You do realize the fall won’t kill me.”

“Probably not. But it’d be fun to try,” said Homelander. He floated down to your level, your arm tight around Dean’s waist. “Oh relax. I won’t touch your boy toy again.”

“I thought I said to stay the fuck away from us,” you growled.

“I just thought you’d like to know that Soldier Boy’s internal file will be released to the major news outlets tomorrow. Did you know-”

You grabbed his neck with your free hand, squeezing hard, Homelander pawing at your wrist.

“Any good reasons why I shouldn’t kill him?” you asked Dean.

“None come to mind,” said Dean, Homelander’s eyes red but fading as he choked for air.

“Feel free to speak up,” you said, gripping his neck even tighter.

“Stop,” said a voice, the three of you turning towards a small drone hovering close by. “Let him go.”

“He tried to kill Soldier Boy,” you said, holding on tight. You didn’t even see the drone shoot out the darts, the three of you hit. You instantly dropped Homelander, flying down to the roof of Vought as soon as you could, Dean out cold already and you quickly joining him.

You woke up on the couch in Edgar’s office, no sign of Dean or Homelander. Everything felt off still as you sat up, Mr. Edgar suddenly sitting on the edge of the coffee table.

“Are you alright?”

“No,” you groaned, stretching out. “What the hell was that?”

“If you’re going to act like children, we’ll treat you like them.”

“Dean and I were having fun, minding our own business-”

“Dean and you stole Compound V for your own benefit. I thought you were going to be more understanding of this arrangement.”

“I have to be stronger than Homelander and now I am. We didn’t hurt anybody to get it. You people let him do whatever the fuck he wanted so get off your high horse.”

“We understand. But you can’t kill him.”

“Why the fuck not.”

“He brings value in, even not as part of the Seven. Miss Americana and Soldier Boy can take over the leadership roles and Homelander is to be left alone.”

“He wants to kill-”

“I said to leave it be.” You stood, glaring down at him. “If an incident like this occurs again, there will be consequences. Dismissed.”

“Gonna throw us back in a hole? That’s kinda your thing isn’t it.”

“We know how to deal with problem children, even supe ones,” he said, standing up. “Back off before all three of you are worth more dead than alive. Don’t make me dismiss you again.”

You stormed out, slamming the door after you, not bothering to look back when you heard the wood splinter. You went straight to Dean’s apartment, Dean unscathed inside. But Homelander standing there, neither of them actively trying to kill the other, that was more than enough to forget your anger for the moment.

“You okay?” asked Dean, stepping over to grab your hand. You hummed, looking Homelander up and down. “You got the same message we did I’m guessing.”

“Behave or we’re all fucked. Yeah. Why the hell is he here?”

“We were spoken to at the same time. While he’s still a psycho and has some major fucked up issues, he has a different idea,” said Dean.

“Said the mass murderer.” Homelander rolled his eyes. “We all want to be in charge of the Seven. Be the best.”

“You shoved your hand down my pants,” you growled.

“True. But enemies can work together when they have a larger, common enemy, hm?”

“Edgar,” said Dean. “He wants to wipe out Edgar. Ashley is the next logical choice and we can control her. She wouldn’t do jack shit to us.”

“Remove Edgar from the equation and we can all get along. Maybe form a little, trio, best of the best. Still part of the Seven but top dogs. Vought would eat that shit up. Behind the scenes you two fuck or whatever it is you do. Publicly, we’re the strongest go America team there ever was. The soldier from a simpler time, the soldier who fought the terrorists and defend her country, and the everyday man who protects his fellow citizens. All walks of life, all the basis covered. Between the three of us our numbers are sky high in every single demographic.”

“What’s to stop us from killing each other after Edgar is out of the picture,” you said.

“You’re strong enough to kill me. But your little boyfriend can’t fly. You come after me, I’ll drop him in the ocean. Leave me alone, I leave you two alone and we all win,” said Homelander. “Deal?”

“What do you think?” you asked Dean.

“Lesser of two evils. I think,” said Dean. “I say we give it a chance to see if we can get Edgar out.”

“Fine. We can discuss this more tomorrow. Oh and Homelander. I ever catch you in my or Dean’s apartment again, I’ll snap your neck. Deal or no deal.”

“If you were only a little more twisted we could have had something,” he said. He nodded and left, Dean letting out a deep breath when he was gone.

“Y/N,” said Dean. You hummed, wrapping your arms around him. “Thanks. For catching me earlier.”

“I’m sure you would have been fine.”

“Probably but I don’t want to test that theory out. If he dropped me in the ocean...I still need to breathe. We have to play nice.”

“We will. Until we don’t have to,” you said. He smirked, kissing your lips. “He tried to kill you. Now I hate him even more. As soon as we can, he’s gone.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned.

“Yes I am and you, you’re my Soldier Boy. We’re going to own this place, very, very soon.”

“Damn straight we are sweetheart. Just a little bit longer and then we can do whatever we want to. Promise.”

_________

#supernatural #spn #dean x reader #dean winchester #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean #winchester #dean spn #soldier boy!dean x reader #au

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