#i hate tagging it feels so stupid i just want this to reach the target audience | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tyonfs · 3 years

Text

cat & mouse

❝ rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits, and, y/n, we just pushed that limit. ❞

PAIRING ▸ na jaemin x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ smut, crack, fluff, college au, friends with benefits au

WARNINGS ▸ lots of !! sexual tension !! and jaemin acting like a dick, protective big brother!jaehyun, lots of sneaking around, jaemin calls you princess a lot, teasing, fingering, alcohol consumption, hooking up, thigh riding, smut, oral sex, aftercare

SUMMARY ▸ tired of meaningless hookups and dull parties, na jaemin had always been hesitant to indulge himself. that is, of course, until he met you. however, upon realizing you’re none other than jeong jaehyun’s little sister, jaemin has to keep his relationship with you under wraps to make sure his team captain doesn’t find out.

PLAYLIST ▸ move! by niki • playinwitme by kyle (feat. kehlani)

WORD COUNT ▸ 17713 words

TAG LIST ▸ @chubsluda @celestialchans @treasurestay @luvlyjaemin @lanadreamie @kylomeyon @taehinsano @jenotation @ovelha-colorida-v @hrjflrt @to-blessed-2-be-stressed @honeyju @chanluster @sweetjaemss @najaemsenthusiastttt @neovrse @jjikyuu @treasurestay @ahgastayzen @wcnderlandss @jaehy9ngs @jaemxins @syhznanny @lilminyoongles @bbnana

AUTHOR’S NOTE ▸ thank you so much for all of your love and support !! it’s beyond me & i hope you guys enjoy this ! part of the dunk shot! series but it can be read separately ♡

NA JAEMIN HATED PARTIES.

In the same vein, he hated basketball to an extent. It wasn’t the sport itself that he despised, it was the commitments that followed it. As a vital player on the team, he was obligated to attend every afterparty despite how much he loathed parties. Yet, what he couldn’t stand was being nagged by his teammates, so Jaemin went to the parties. He went to the parties and drank until he was numb and the party was tolerable.

He didn’t even like drinking that much, but he didn’t have much of a choice when most of the members of the basketball team were his seniors. Jaemin was pretty sure his brain cells depleted one-by-one every time he took a shot, but sometimes he got away with faking his alcohol intake when the others were too drunk to keep track. His best friend, Lee Jeno, on the other hand, lived for parties like this. Jaemin used that to his advantage; Jeno was the perfect target to hand off his unwanted shots to.

“Jaemin!” Jeong Jaehyun, the captain of the basketball team, made his presence known easily. After all, the parties were always hosted at his house. “Let’s do a love shot.”

If it were anyone else, Jaemin would’ve turned them down with some sarcastic, witty comeback. However, Jaehyun was different. Jaemin admired him since they were high schoolers on the basketball team. Jaehyun was two years older but his skills were on another level. Jaemin had always worked to see if he could surpass him but to no avail.

“Sure.” Jaemin got off of the couch, where he was aimlessly scrolling through his social media and observing the party. He followed Jaehyun to the kitchen counter. “You got tequila?”

It was a stupid question. Jaehyun was loaded; his supply of alcohol seemed endless.

“Of course,” Jaehyun replied. He took a red solo cup and measured a shot of tequila. “By the way, why don’t you talk to any of the girls here? You seem tense. You should get laid.”

It wasn’t like Jaemin intentionally avoided the girls. He just had no interest in people who wanted to blindly hook-up and forget about it the next morning. He didn’t completely ignore them either. Jaemin distinctly remembered a pretty blonde passing him her vape pen, which he politely refused. While he didn’t mind destroying his liver, he wanted to keep his lungs intact.

“There’s no one here I want to fuck,” was Jaemin’s impassive response. “Especially not when they’re drunk off their ass.”

“Is that so? How much did you drink tonight?”

“This is my third or fourth shot, I think.”

Jaehyun snorted and held out the red solo cup to him. “Well, here’s to your intact virginity.”

“I’m not a virgin.” Jaemin took the cup and swished its contents around. “Can’t we toast to something more practical? Like basketball?”

A chuckle escaped Jaehyun’s lips, bemused like a father to his son. He eyed Jaemin as he held the red solo cup to his lips. “Ready?”

Jaehyun didn’t wait for Jaemin, though. He tipped his cup up, downing the contents, and Jaemin followed suit as quickly as he could. The tequila was a smooth burn down his throat, but it made Jaemin feel slow and hazy. The fire spread across his chest, spreading to his arms, legs, and then his head. He felt fuzzy and was sure he had hit his limit for the night.

Jaemin took an unstable step forward, and Jaehyun put a firm hand on his shoulder, asking, “You good?” to which Jaemin answered with a dazed nod. With a grin, Jaehyun patted his back firmly. “See you when we’re both conscious again, man.”

The next thirty minutes were a blur. Jaemin found himself at a beer pong table and, in his drunken state, pretended he was practicing his free throws while he relished the crowd cheering him on. He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders, cheering wildly at the side until he got a headache. Eventually, the house felt too stuffy and he decided to go out to the backyard to let his buzz fade out.

Outside wasn’t any better. The cheers were louder outside and the music was still blasting. The fog in Jaemin’s head thickened and he was sure he felt hands trying to guide him to the pool, but he brushed them off. He narrowed his eyes onto a lawn chair and willed himself to walk straight towards it.

Sit, he ordered himself. Do not get in the pool and make a fool out of yourself.

After pushing past a few of his teammates and the girls hovering around them, Jaemin’s knees buckled under him as soon as he got to the lawn chair. It was damp when he sat down, but he was too drunk and dazed to care. Jaemin looked up at the sky, unfocused, and was only pulled from his thoughts when his phone went off.

annoying jeno: where tf did u go? this girl wants me to introduce her to u

It was time for another shot.

Jaemin felt heavy. He sat up, running a hand through his disheveled hair, and spotted a red solo cup on the side table to his right. He reached for it and inspected the contents, sloshing it around sluggishly until he noticed a pair of eyes boring into him.

You were isolating yourself from the rest of the party, just like him. You weren’t giving him the sex eyes like he had expected; you looked more confused. Unlike Jaemin, you looked much more sober and functional. It was painfully obvious by the way Jaemin couldn’t seem to focus on you without seeing double.

He wasn’t sure if it was because of the alcohol in his system, but Jaemin had no idea who you were, but fuck, he wanted to. He pushed it down, though. Hookups were never fulfilling, and Jaemin wasn’t here to let himself go.

“Why are you staring at me?” Jaemin asked in a low voice, trying to speak coherently without slurring his words. He wasn’t sure if it worked, but you seemed to understand.

To his surprise, you fired a question back at him. “What are you doing?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how to answer that. He was obviously drunk off his ass, so what was he supposed to explain when it was clear as day?

“Waiting for this stupid party to be over,” Jaemin replied. He dropped his gaze back to the cup he held on his lap. “Why are you still staring? I’m not interested.”

“You’re holding my drink.”

Jaemin stilled. He looked between you and the cup for a moment before muttering a pathetic “oh.” He flushed and held the cup out to you. “Sorry.”

You took the cup gingerly and downed your shot before advising him, “You know, you shouldn’t be taking random cups and drinking from them at parties. You never know what they could be laced with.”

Jaemin’s head lolled to the side, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. He didn’t want to join the party, but he didn’t want to sit back and be scolded. He was debating making a run for the fence in Jaehyun’s backyard. His house was only a few blocks away and he was pretty sure he’d be sober enough to make it. Jeno, however, was the obstacle he was worried about. If he ran off without telling Jeno (who was going to disapprove anyway), he was sure to get an earful the next day.

“Also,” you continued, “don’t go around assuming every girl who looks in your general direction wants to fuck you.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Jaemin grumbled, too drained to argue back. “Shouldn’t you be partying with everyone? It’s depressing over here.”

“This isn’t my party to celebrate,” you said, biting down on the rim of your cup delicately. “I’m just here for the drinks.”

Jaemin didn’t know what to say to that, so he decided to introduce himself. “I’m Na Jaemin, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you replied. “Pleasure to meet you, Na Jaemin.”

Jaemin’s eyelashes were obscuring his vision as he tried to squint to make you out. He wasn’t sure if it was the drunken stupor, but you were breathtaking. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that Jaemin was currently seeing double of you. Jaemin wasn’t sure how he had ever missed you at any of the other parties (if you even showed up to those), but he was glad he snuck away to the backyard now.

Jaemin turned back to look at the scene before him, full of shrieks and shouts from partygoers as they danced off-beat to the blasting music. He almost didn’t notice the ultimate bastard, Yuta Nakamoto, walking over with his eyes set on not Jaemin, but you. Yuta only seemed to see Jaemin when he neared the two and, despite the awkward pause in the air, held his hand up to fistbump him. Jaemin lazily returned it, not really processing until seconds later when Yuta had already passed him.

It wasn’t that Yuta and Jaemin had any bad blood between them. Rather, Jaemin found the older boy quite fun to be around, and on top of that, he was a really supportive and caring teammate. However, when it came to parties, Yuta tended to be a lot more high-energy than Jaemin was.

“Hey, Y/N,” Yuta crooned deviously, standing over you with his hands shoved in his pockets. He crouched down so he was at eye-level with you, holding onto the arm of your chair. “Care to dance with me?”

“Yuta Nakamoto,” you drawled, a smile appearing on your lips. “I’m good over here, but you go have fun.”

Yuta stood up again, a cat-like grin spreading from ear-to-ear across his face as he stepped back toward the pool. “You’re gonna miss out, Y/N. You cool with that?”

The smile never left your lips as you rolled your eyes at him. Yuta turned to dive into the pool, making Jaemin’s nose scrunch as the splash was big enough to get water on his clothes. When Yuta surfaced, he smoothed his hair back and wiped the excess water from his face. He caught your eye again, winking before swimming toward Jungwoo and splashing him, leaving you shaking your head and chuckling.

“You two close?” Jaemin asked in a mumble, not quite sure where he was going with the sudden conversation.

You were shocked momentarily, but smiled when you looked over at Jaemin. “Let’s just say he wants to get in my pants but I find the age gap inappropriate.”

Jaemin snorted. “Really? How old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

Jaemin rose a brow. He was just a year older than you but not so far off from Yuta. He hadn’t seen many college students be so conscious of a legal age difference of a year or two. After all, nearly everyone was an adult anyway.

“That’s not so far off from Yuta,” he told you.

You hid a smile, nearly going unnoticed under the dim light, but Jaemin had just caught it in time. “He’s like, my brother’s age,” you replied. “It’s just weird.”

Jaemin didn’t really get it, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. He was an only child so he didn’t really think his opinion was valid anyway. Yet, he must have been looking at you weird because you bit your lip and shrunk under his gaze. Jaemin swallowed and turned back to look down at his feet, trying to get his head out of the clouds, but the buzz was still too strong.

He couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “What if it was me?”

“Huh?”

He wasn’t looking at you but he could feel your gaze boring into him. Jaemin wanted to melt into a puddle then and there. He was never the type to make a move like that, usually expecting girls to approach him, but now that he did, his skin was crawling with shame. Although, he figured it wouldn’t be too bad if he ended the night in bed with you.

Jaemin worked up the courage to turn his gaze to you. “I’m a year older than you. Would you be down if it was me?”

“Yeah,” you admitted bluntly, causing the tips of Jaemin’s ears to go red. “But I don’t know you, so…”

“Do you want to?” he asked, then clarified, “Get to know me, I mean.”

The two of you were silent for a moment, and it was far more deafening than the booming party around them. Jaemin’s gaze dropped from your face to look back at the college students wading around in the pool. Someone must have messed with the pool because it had started to fill up with bubbles, making the crowd cheer louder. Entranced, Jaemin nearly didn’t notice you when you were standing right over him. He arched a brow at you, scooting back a little out of shock.

“Do you want to get out of here then?”

You were smiling coyly and Jaemin didn’t have the willpower to resist anymore. He stood up, looking around for Jeno, before turning to you and nodding. Everyone was so consumed with the pool foaming up that it would be easy for them to escape from the backyard.

“I’m way too drunk to drive, but we can go for a walk,” Jaemin suggested, leading her out through the backyard fence. He had escaped from there countless times, only for Jeno to drag him back, but this time, Jeno was preoccupied.

Yet, something unsettled him about not informing his best friend, so he decided to shoot him a quick text.

jaemin: i’ll see u back home, i’m with a girl lol

annoying jeno: deadass? have fun

Now, at least Jaemin had one thing off his chest.

“So what’s your deal?” Jaemin asked you as he tried to focus on walking in a straight line. “You have guys like Yuta Nakamoto lining up for you and you’re passing up my boy?”

“If he’s your boy then why are you trying to make a pass at me?” you shot back, grabbing his arm to provide leverage when he stumbled.

“Touché,” Jaemin grumbled. “It’s not like he was scoring, so I might as well shoot my shot.”

“Did you score?”

The corner of Jaemin’s mouth twitched. “That’s for you to decide, isn’t it?”

Mutual attraction was such a strange feeling because the sexual tension was there and so loud. Granted, about 90% of it came from Jaemin, but something about the way you were still holding onto his arm and laughing at his stupid jokes made him feel like something was going to happen tonight.

“We should stargaze,” you offered, pointing at a grassy hill behind a park the both of you were passing by. Jaemin nodded in response, so you dragged him by the arm to the chosen location.

Stargazing meant laying down, and laying down meant not having to focus on walking in a straight line anymore, so it sounded absolutely heavenly to Jaemin right now. Somehow, he felt like such an amateur right now. No girl had ever asked him to lay down and stargaze with him; they always just skipped to the bedroom fun.

You let go of Jaemin to lay down on the grass, positioning yourself like a starfish before patting the space next to you and then moving your hands to rest on your stomach. You looked entranced with the stars above you, but the moment Jaemin laid down next to you, you turned to him, catching him off-guard. Jaemin’s eyes flickered from you to the sky above.

“The stars are beautiful,” he said weakly.

He couldn’t even see the fucking stars.

“Damn, I thought you were gonna call me beautiful for a second,” you teased, nudging his shoulder lightly.

“You wish,” Jaemin said with a light snort, swallowing thickly. “There’s no way I’m calling a girl that over my dead body.”

He was a terrible liar. It was clear when Na Jaemin was feeling lustful. His eyes would turn half-lidded and his voice would drop a few octaves. Right now, all of that was happening along with his fingers twitching at his sides. You were looking back up at the sky when he turned his head to look at you, and god, you were so pretty.

“Girls must come running for you,” you told him, “otherwise I really can’t figure out the ego.”

“That’s the problem when you’re a star basketball player and devilishly handsome.” Jaemin grinned, folding his arms behind his head. “You turn out like me.”

“How mortifying.”

“I know, right?” Jaemin turned onto his side for a brief moment to look at you. “How come I’ve never seen you around before. I’m sure I would’ve remembered…”

“Because I’m beautiful?” you offered.

Jaemin groaned, pink dusting his cheeks. “Why are you so fixed on that?”

You laughed in response while Jaemin just stared at the heartstopping curve of your lips. He felt himself grow hot, anticipation mixed with the weight of the situation. He had never been the type to feel so jittery around a girl, but here he was, a touch anxious because he was afraid of doing something wrong.

“That’s Orion’s Belt there,” you pointed out. “Can you see Betelgeuse?”

You turned to look at Jaemin to see if you had his attention, but did a double-take upon realizing that you, in fact, had his full attention. His eyes were directly on you, not the night sky above. The both of you were so painfully close, and Jaemin couldn’t resist when he reached over to brush a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“I can’t see the stars,” he mumbled, his large hand moving to cup your cheek. When your gazes were locked, he caressed your cheek with his thumb gently and leaned in to kiss you.

Well, he was about to kiss you until he felt your finger pressing against his lips.

“I’m down for whatever,” you told him sweetly, “but I don’t kiss on the first date.”

Jaemin wasn’t sure what to make of that. Sure, he found it a little weird, but he could see the reasoning behind it. You were probably one of those people who saved your kisses for something special—whatever that meant. Honestly, Jaemin didn’t really care about the significance, but he did know it would be amplified if he found “the one.”

“So this is a date now?” he asked, amused.

“Somewhat.”

Jaemin huffed lightly and leaned back, letting his hand retract back to his side. “Down for whatever? Even sex?”

You raised a very attractive eyebrow at him, making Jaemin short-circuit for a split second. “If you play your cards right,” you said airily, your voice all light and fluffy.

“Down for whatever but the offer isn’t extended to anyone over the age of twenty-one.”

You punched his shoulder hard this time. “Bite me.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Whatever made Jaemin’s confidence swell was taking over fast. In seconds, Jaemin propped himself up with his elbow, using his free hand to brush your hair to the side and tilting your neck so he could have easier access to it.

To test the waters, Jaemin nipped at your supple skin, earning a hitch in your slowed breathing that encouraged him to do more. Jaemin left open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking harshly with each one. He licked his lips when he pulled away to look at your neck. You were tough to bruise but he loved a challenge. He maneuvered his body over you so he could indulge himself further, holding himself up with his forearms.

Jaemin dipped under your chin again, ravishing the side of your neck that he targeted. He littered the column of your neck with dark hickeys, smirking against your skin upon the sight. You were a squirming mess under him, tugging at his hair and bucking your hips up against his. Jaemin grunted softly, his hands pushing your hips down so you could no longer tempt him.

You wrapped your hands around him, one hand sliding up the nape of his neck to curl your fingers in his hair. Hands weren’t normally something that made Jaemin weak, but yours were driving him crazy with one in his hair and the other bunching up the fabric of his shirt.

He cupped the apex of your jeans, smug as you whined at his touch, yearning for more. Jaemin’s free hand grazed your waist before he lowered it to your hip. He pulled away from your neck to meet your gaze, biting his lip at your lustful expression.

“Can I?” he asked, pressing down slightly against your apex.

You nodded, about to say something but got cut off when Jaemin moved his hand down and palmed your clothed clit. Jaemin smirked once he heard the soft sigh falling from your lips. His breathing got heavier, mixing with yours as he started fumbling to unbutton your jeans.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Jaemin…”

Jaemin swallowed hard and tugged your jeans down your hips a little. He felt like he was losing control with every touch. He just wanted to hold you in his arms and spend the rest of the night with you, and it was impossible to shake off that feeling when you were looking at him like that.

He playfully snapped the waistband of your panties, letting out a chuckle when your face twisted up and you pushed at his chest. Then, you drew him closer again and guided his hand down your pants. Jaemin took a shaky breath when he felt how wet you were. It filled him with pride, of course, but he had suddenly felt so nervous. He had hooked up with girls before, but this felt weird to him. Different, to an extent. They were just going through the motions, but he was struck with some strange feeling that he didn’t want to mess up or do something wrong. It was like his first time all over again when he had no idea what he was doing.

His silent cry for help was answered with rain.

“Jesus, it’s raining now?” Jaemin asked with a disapproving huff, pulling his hand out of your pants. He wondered if the people in Jaehyun’s backyard were going to move back inside or keep partying through rain and storm.

“It is?” You frowned and reached a hand over him to catch some raindrops. “You make a nice umbrella, Na Jaemin.”

“How kind of you,” Jaemin replied, a bit distracted by the rain pelting his back. “Should we make a run back to Jaehyun’s or do you want to, like…”

“Do I want to do it outside in the rain?” you asked, quirking a brow at him. “Absolutely not.”

“Worth a shot.”

Jaemin hauled himself up to his feet, holding a hand out for you so you could stand. You started patting down your clothes and fixing your fly. Jaemin did the same, making sure he looked presentable but he kept quiet about the dark hickey on the side of your neck. He squinted up at the drizzle of rain from the sky.

Cockblock, Jaemin thought bitterly.

Yet another distraction came in the form of a text message. Specifically, a text message from Lee Jeno.

annoying jeno: i’m going back to the apartment and ik ur with a girl but i left the keys at home so pls open the door

“Son of a bitch,” Jaemin grumbled to himself. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and looked at you when he noticed your questioning stare. Jaemin ran his hands down your arms, then held your waist gently. “I have to go.”

“Go?” you asked him, startled.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied with a sigh, not wanting to divulge how idiotic his roommate was. “Can I get your number?”

This perked you right up, thankfully. Jaemin was satisfied as he watched you enter your phone number in his phone. This almost made him feel better about having to leave you alone to walk back to Jaehyun’s house in the rain.

Scratch that. He still felt like a piece of shit.

Jaemin slept off the party rather well.

He was in a bit of a mood, however, seeming tired and cranky in the morning. He had nearly thrown his phone at Jeno’s face when his best friend tried to shake him awake in the morning. It was a miracle that he showed up on time for his lecture. Around the afternoon, he received a text from you and was far more awake and alert after that. By the time he got to basketball, though, he was in a much better mood.

That is, until Jaehyun called for a team meeting.

The basketball team members were all sitting on the bleachers, waiting for a pissed-off Jaehyun to speak. Jeno picked at his nails next to Jaemin while YangYang in front of them was fiddling with the basketball. Jaehyun was only ever serious during games, but now his anger showed in a subtle and scary way that even Taeyong was a bit shaken by the change in his mood.

“Now, I’m going to say this once and you all better listen up carefully,” Jaehyun said in a low, dangerous voice. “If anyone—and I mean anyone—lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are.”

Taeyong whistled lowly, impressed.

“Yuta,” Jaehyun continued, eyes narrowing at the older boy, “this message was inspired by you.”

“Received, reflecting, and apologizing,” Yuta said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll back off, Captain.”

“Good,” Jaehyun replied curtly as Yuta and Taeyong started to banter playfully over the topic.

Jaemin was unsettled. Jaehyun was upset over someone going after his younger sister? Now, Yuta was a flirt, but he recalled him pining for you last night and there was no way you were Jaehyun’s sister, right?

“Hey, Jeno.” Jaemin nudged the boy with his elbow. “Who exactly is Jaehyun’s sister?”

“Isn’t it Jeong Y/N?” he answered.

Goodbye world, was Jaemin’s first thought.

Yuta was flirting with you last night, but Jaemin straight-up nearly fingered you and—oh god, the hickey. Jaemin was at the end of his line right now, and if you said anything to Jaehyun, he was sure he was going to get his ass beat. He was starting to regret giving up his non-hookup life because of you; the only person Jaemin was flirting with now was Death.

“You good?” Jeno’s brows were knitted in concern.

“Jeno.” Jaemin swallowed down the dry lump in his throat. “Remember how I told you I was with a girl last night?”

“Yeah?” Jeno asked, searching Jaemin’s eyes for an answer. He found it rather quickly, eyes widening and voice dropping to a whisper. “Oh my god.” His gaze flickered from Jaemin to Jaehyun several times. “What are you going to do?”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Jaemin whispered back. “We were both drunk. I’ll just ghost her subtly and she’ll forget about me. Easy.”

Jeno raised a brow at his plan. “Is hooking up with Jaehyun’s little sister worse than breaking her heart?”

“Oh please, it was one night. Give it a day or two. She won’t give a fuck.” Even though I kind of do, he added in his head.

The next time Jaemin saw you was after practice ended a few days later.

It had to be impossible that you could look any better than you did the last time he saw you, but here you were. It was unfair, really. Jaemin was a college student that was amped up with testosterone and hormones, and now he had no place to channel it. He was a second away from dragging you into an empty room and letting himself go with you, but then he remembered your older brother, and the horny thoughts dissolved into fear and shame.

“Ah, Jaemin,” you greeted with a cheerful smile.

Fuck, why did you have to be so cute?

Jaemin opened his mouth to reply, but quickly closed it and looked away from you. He leaned against the side of the bleachers and sighed while you were puzzled by his behavior. Although he wanted to ignore you, you were right there and the two of you were alone. Jaemin knew that the other guys wouldn’t be out of the locker rooms for another five minutes.

His gaze dropped to your hickey. It was so clear that you didn’t bother trying to cover it up, and the sight made Jaemin feel proud in some twisted way. Instinctively, he reached over and brushed his thumb over the sensitive bruise, smirking when you shivered.

“It looks good on you,” Jaemin complimented.

“Thanks.” You scoffed, then a mischievous glint shone in your eyes. “Maybe you should give me some more then.”

Jaemin stiffened, in a lot more ways than he should’ve. He gritted his teeth, willing the blood not to rush down all at once. He could not get horny at school when Jaehyun could walk out any second. And the older boy did. Jaemin backed away from you instantly, acting as if you were just some stranger passing by.

“I’ll pass,” he muttered under his breath and was sure you heard when he saw your face drop.

Great. Now he felt like an asshole.

“I gotta go,” he mumbled quickly before you could say anything else, moving past you to walk over to Jeno, high-fiving Jaehyun as he did. Jaemin didn’t have time to register your expression, but nevertheless, he felt like shit.

Jeno looked suspicious as Jaemin approached him. “Did you…”

“End it?” Jaemin finished for him. “I think so.”

“Can you just stop being a dick and talk to her?”

Ticked off, Jaemin took a deep breath. “If I talk to her, then one thing will lead to another, and Jaehyun—”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupted. “This isn’t about Jaehyun. This is about you and Y/N.”

Jaemin screamed out something incomprehensible and put his hands over his ears. “I can’t hear you, Lee Jeno. Can’t hear you over me getting ready to go to a party and get wasted tonight.”

“Na Jaemin, you’re my best friend but you’re an idiot.”

“I know that.” Jaemin made a face. “But it’s time for me to go and forget that.”

Jaemin never failed to forget how much he hated parties. He was starting to regret showing up in the first place. One of his teammates, Jungwoo, had let him into his frat party. Normally, guys were selectively chosen because the frat boys wanted more girls, but Jaemin was wasting his opportunity of getting in by doing absolutely nothing.

This was why he didn’t like drinking. He wasn’t even fun when he was drunk; Jeno was a social butterfly, Yuta was a flirt, but Jaemin would just wonder if plants existed and think about you.

“You look pissed off,” Jungwoo observed, holding out a red dixie cup to him. “Are you sure you want to party?”

“Yes,” Jaemin grumbled, taking the cup from him and downing it in seconds. “I need to let go.”

“Of?”

“Myself.”

Jaemin patted Jungwoo’s back firmly and moved to the kitchen to pour himself another shot. He didn’t know what he was thinking. He let himself get all worked up over some girl he barely even hooked up with. All he did was kiss your neck and here Jaemin was, looking like some cheap, heartbroken loser.

Oh, Jaemin thought out of the blue. I never told her she was pretty.

Jaemin took another shot, closing his eyes firmly as he thought of laying next to you again under the stars. Your lips looked so soft and kissable, your eyes so curious and alluring. He tried to push it away and focus on the party and getting drunk, but you kept appearing in his head like a mirage.

Let go, Jaemin, he told himself. Indulge yourself.

Jaemin leaned against the counter, bored. He sloshed the contents of his cup around, taking another shot when he felt the buzz start to wear out. A pretty brunette walked past him, flashing a coy smile.

He supposed she was one of the cheerleaders, or maybe she was a sorority girl. Either way, she was attractive and Jaemin could use the physical contact tonight. Part of him felt like it was the wrong thing to do, but all he could think about was how annoying it was to overthink every little thing he did.

Jaemin made his way over to her, tapping people’s shoulders and maneuvering his way through the cramped frat house. Everyone was clustered like schools of fish. Jaemin hated this kind of environment, but nevertheless, he put on a mask and did his best to fit in.

“Hey,” he greeted the girl once he found her. “I’m Na Jaemin.”

She smiled in that pretty way again. “I know you. You’re on the basketball team.” She looked embarrassed for a moment, flushing as she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear. “I bet you don’t know me, though.”

“I don’t,” Jaemin admitted, “but you have a gorgeous smile.”

She beamed at this. “Hey, could you hold my cup for a second?” she asked, holding out her red dixie cup to him.

You want me to hold your cup when you can barely hold a conversation? Jaemin thought distastefully but took the cup anyway.

He leaned against the kitchen counter and waited for her patiently, and when she came back, Jaemin could tell she had left to touch-up her makeup. He could also detect the faintest spritz of perfume, but he wasn’t exactly sure, so he leaned closer to make sure.

Jaemin wasn’t sure how they ended up making out in one of the empty bedrooms upstairs, but by the time she was taking off her bra, he wanted to leave. He did his best not to look as bored as he felt throughout the heavy petting and removal of clothing, but his biggest fuck-up was worse than he had expected.

Even Jaemin himself felt mortified by what had just escaped his lips. By the disgusted look in the girl’s eyes, he was fairly confident this was going to spread around the school. As Jaemin was trying to conjure up some excuse for his actions, the girl stood up and started gathering her clothes.

“I’m not Y/N,” she muttered and left him alone in the room.

“Well, shit,” Jaemin grumbled, running a hand through his tousled hair after she left. “Should’ve told me your name then.”

Jaemin laid back on the bed, putting his hands over his face. He was royally screwed at this point and wondered if he had a shot at redemption. The fact that you were still on his mind was messing with him. Even now, after totally embarrassing himself, he was still stuck on you. To avoid further embarrassment, he pulled out his phone to deflect whatever impulsive action was creeping up his limbs.

jaemin: ok jeno im texting u instead of drunk texting y/n and confessing how badly i wanna kiss her

y/n: hi this is y/n

Jaemin wondered what sin he committed in his past life to get this unlucky.

jaemin: shit

jaemin: don’t talk to me i’m drunk at a party

y/n: jaemin you texted me first

jaemin: ugh i wanna see u so bad

jaemin: wanna make it up to u

y/n: oh my

y/n: you’re a little too drunk for that

y/n: but send me the address. i’ll come over and take you home

Jaemin was 98.75% sure that this was, by far, the stupidest thing he could do. Nevertheless, he shared his address with you and waited for you to come to get him. He hung out with Jungwoo in the meantime, slinging an arm around the older boy’s shoulder and confessing his embarrassing hookup while Jungwoo was high as a kite.

When you texted Jaemin that you were outside the frat house, he opened the door almost instantly. Jaemin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face when you were standing right in front of him. You opened your mouth to say something, but Jaemin cut you off.

“I might have… might have called out your name during a hookup,” he confessed, slurring his words while he tried to speak coherently.

You looked like you were deciding whether to think it was funny or be suspicious over the fact that he tried to hook up with someone and then texted you afterward. Eventually, you ended up laughing at his story, tutting at his actions. Jaemin walked by your side, hands shoved deep in his pockets. He closed his eyes in an attempt to come back to his senses, only to be dragged back onto the sidewalk by you because he was apparently straying into the road.

“How much did you drink?” was your first question and one that Jaemin wasn’t sure he had an answer for.

“Six? Seven shots?” Jaemin counted but lost track after he held up five fingers. “I haven’t gotten this hammered in a while.”

“You’ve been flighty,” you told him. “I thought I wasn’t going to hear from you again.”

Jaemin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “That was the plan.”

“What?”

End it now, Jaemin, the devious half of his mind instructed. Break it off before it’s too late.

“I don’t exactly do hookups anymore, Y/N,” he said, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but you happened to break that streak for him. But then came the lie. “I’m not looking for anything serious now either, and I’m sure you aren’t.”

They walked in silence onto the campus grounds, turning into the street where the student apartments were. You looked down at your feet, a little more disappointed than Jaemin had expected. More than that, it looked as though you were embarrassed.

Cue Na Jaemin feeling like a douchebag, which he was.

“Aren’t you the one who asked if I wanted to get to know you?” you asked him, brow arched.

Jaemin panicked, his words trapped in his throat for a second. Well, you got him there. He didn’t have a good excuse that made him sound less of a dick. Although, he was already probably about to be blacklisted from your life pretty soon, so it didn’t really matter.

“I was drunk,” Jaemin said as his brain was trying to throw random words at him. “I didn’t know what I was thinking.��

They made it to Jaemin’s apartment, which was thankfully on the first floor because he didn’t think he could stand an awkward elevator ride with you. You didn’t look at Jaemin once, but it didn’t seem as though you were angry. Rather, you looked confused, but Jaemin swallowed down his guilt and took a step back once they were at his door.

“Besides,” he continued shamelessly to deliver the final blow, “you always have Yuta.”

You rolled your eyes at him and stormed off at once after those words. Jaemin was left alone, still looking down at his feet. He let out a long, dragged-out sigh, hitting his head back against the solid wood of his door.

“Idiot,” he scolded himself.

It took Jaemin a whole week and a half to get over you.

Even then, he didn’t really get over what happened. He just stopped blaming himself for it in front of Jeno and internalized everything else. Talking to Jeno didn’t really help, anyway, because Jaemin would just be hit with the “I told you so” and then be silently judged by his best friend.

Jeno had gone home for the long weekend, though, so Jaemin could finally mope about his apartment without Jeno smacking him upside the head and calling him a loser. Although Jaemin agreed with that, he was tired of remembering how shitty of a person and it was a constant reminder of how he treated you.

Although, he didn’t expect that reminder to physically manifest when he saw you in the hallway of his apartment on Friday night.

“Y/N?” he blurted out impulsively.

Jaemin had just decided to get something from the vending machine, not expecting to see you when he was standing in front of his doorway in his grey sweatpants and lack of shirt. His hair was bedraggled from staying in bed all day after his morning lecture ended. In short, he wasn’t exactly presentable and this wasn’t the look he wanted you to see.

“Jaemin,” you said softly, looking a bit startled. “I was just leaving my friend’s place.”

“Look—”

“It’s fine, Jaemin.” You managed a small smile for him. “There’s no hard feelings, okay? Water under the bridge.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, biting your lip afterward. “I just hope you’re not one of those guys who ghosts the girl if they don’t get sex out of it.”

Jaemin could feel the ice in your tone but brushed it off. “Honestly, I don’t care about sex that much.”

“Then what do you care about?”

Jaemin fixed his gaze on you, narrowing his eyes. He should have been grateful that you didn’t take it too personally and had forgiven him, but something was off. He didn’t doubt your reasons for being here, but an undercurrent of desire was definitely still there.

His morals were bouncing around his skull, warring with each other. Jaehyun was yelling at him to stop, but you were also there, and so fucking pretty. You wanted him, and he wanted you—it was almost perfect if it weren’t for your overprotective older brother who Jaemin respected too much. Then again, Jaemin had been shouldering too much guilt over the past week. He was sure he could handle some more.

What Jaehyun didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, right?

The hallway was empty, doused with lingering sleep. The world was dark outside but under the dim, flickering hallway light was you. And Jaemin was at his limit; he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, and something inside him snapped.

He grabbed your hands first before pushing you up against the wall and sealing his lips over yours. Your face morphed into a shocked expression, only making Jaemin amused as he pinned your hands up and over your head. Your lips were so warm and soft, molding against Jaemin’s lips perfectly. He felt your hands wrap around his neck to draw him closer, inciting a soft groan from the back of his throat. It was kind of pathetic that he was already hard, and he was sure you were aware of it by how he was pressed up against your lower body.

Jaemin picked you up effortlessly, scooping you into his arms by your thighs. You let out a little shriek and grabbed onto his shoulders, wrapping your legs around his torso at his encouragement. Jaemin took you into his room, kicking the door closed with his foot before heading to his room and dropping you on his bed.

He had never actually let a girl into his room, so this was a first. Somehow, seeing you on his own bed was so arousing, and he had half a mind to just take you then and there. Jaemin made you sit at the edge of the bed while he stood between your legs, hands on your thighs. You looked confused for a moment, but let Jaemin run his hands up and down your thighs.

You and Jaemin should not be in bed together. Under no circumstances should the two of you even be acquainted in the slightest. The fact that you two met was all one big, cosmic coincidence, but sometimes the stars loved fucking around with human affairs.

“I told you I had to make it up to you,” Jaemin said in a low voice, running his thumb across your bottom lip. “You don’t have to forgive me but I can’t keep being a coward.”

“A coward? More like a douchebag,” you told him, holding his wrist so you could bite the tip of his finger as you looked up at him through your lashes. “But glad you came to your senses.”

“So you forgive me then?”

You smiled, all innocent and pure, unlike your words. “Not unless you make it up to me.”

Jaemin dropped his gaze down to your shorts, eyeing them for a moment before he started tugging them down. You raised your hips to help him take your shorts off, followed by your panties. Jaemin nearly sighed at the sight of you; you were so gorgeous and so ready for him. He wanted to completely blow your mind.

Then, the nerves got to Jaemin again.

“Y/N,” he started, “we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can just cuddle or something.”

“Na Jaemin, if you don’t make me cum, I will scream,” you warned.

“Yeah?” Jaemin chuckled at your reaction. “I think you’re going to scream either way, though.”

“Shut up.”

Jaemin laughed, brushing your hair out of your face. He caressed your cheek, rubbing slow circles with his thumb before he dragged it down to your jawline. A small pout appeared on your lips and he ran his thumb over your bottom lip again as if he could wipe your pout away.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” Jaemin said.

Before you could open your mouth to say something, Jaemin plunged his finger in you, thumb quickly finding purchase on your clit and rubbing in slow, languid circles. He wasn’t very satisfied by your shell-shocked silence, so he added a second finger to get you moaning and squirming at his actions.

You gasped when Jaemin curled his fingers, and he relished the dazed expression on your face. He watched your eyelashes flutter and eyelids droop as he scissored his fingers in you, earning him blissful moans from your pretty lips. One of your hands was gripping the sheets at your side while the other was gripping Jaemin’s shoulder tightly. He knew he was doing a good job by the way your walls clenched around his fingers, and it made him swell with pride.

“You’re such an asshole,” you whimpered out, moaning again as he curled his fingers in you.

“Then why do you still want me?” Jaemin hissed. “You should have just hated me. I would have been fine if you weren’t so fucking perfect.”

You cried out as he plunged another finger in you. “Shit, you’re just—oh god.” Jaemin could tell you were at your peak, so he pulled his fingers out of you immediately, smirking at how distressed you looked.

Jaemin popped his fingers in his mouth, sucking off your juices. “You taste so good, princess.”

You scowled at him. “F-finish me off, at least,” you pleaded.

Jaemin gripped your thighs. “Oh, trust me, I will.”

Jaemin lowered himself and met your eyes before he leaned forward and sealed his lips over your clit, sucking harshly on the ball of nerves. You were so sweet and so wet, but what made Jaemin go crazy was the way the both of you locked eyes while he was between your legs. He let out a groan that vibrated against you.

He licked a strip along your slit, pleased with his reward of pants and moans from you. Your thighs squirmed around him so he gripped them harder and moved his hands up to your hips so he could eat you out with more vigor.

Jaemin snaked his tongue along your folds and you were gone. Already edged from being fingered, you were at your peak already. Back arching off the bed and hips squirming, Jaemin tongued your clit as he coaxed you into your orgasm. By the sound of your moans and cries, he felt like he was going to cum in his pants any second if you didn’t stop. You released over his tongue so easily, and Jaemin lapped it up as you made an effort to catch your breath.

At first, Jaemin was over the moon. He hooked up with you and wanted more. You were so enticing and Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. Then came the crushing guilt. It registered a bit late, but it was all the more painful. He had just eaten out his friend’s little sister and couldn’t help the fact that he wanted her so badly.

“Not bad, Jaemin,” you breathed out, fixing your hair as your thighs still stiffened and twitched every now and then. “Is this the part where you push me away and ghost me for another week?”

Jaemin ran a hand through his hair, battling frustration and shame. “Look,” he started, “the reason I pushed you away was because you didn’t tell me your brother is Jeong Jaehyun!”

“Oh.” You blinked at him. “Yeah, he’s my brother. Is that a problem?” Jaemin let out a heavy sigh and you raised a brow at him. “You got a crush on him or something?”

Jaemin’s expression soured. “No! He’s my friend and teammate, Y/N. There’s an unspoken bro code between us men.”

You rolled your eyes. “Here we go.”

“Rule number one of bro code states that sisters are completely off-limits,” Jaemin said. “And, Y/N, we just pushed that limit.”

“You know, in girl code, we ask the friend for permission,” you offered.

“Jaehyun rounded us up at practice and told us that if anyone lays a hand on his little sister, he’s going to kill them,” Jaemin said. “I’m too young to die.”

You stood up to push Jaemin down by his shoulders, sitting him on the edge of the bed. Jaemin’s breath got caught in his throat when you sat on his lap, right where his bulge was painfully tented beneath his sweatpants. You traced his v-cut abs, making Jaemin shiver in response. He held your hips and swallowed thickly. He was pretty sure he knew where this was going. If you were about to ride him, he was sure he could die a happy man.

“Jaemin, my brother doesn’t control my life, so he’s not killing you over anything, okay?” you reassured him, then leaned in closer, nibbling on his earlobe. Jaemin shivered at the contact, tightening his grip on you. “But, if you’re so worried about it, then we could sneak around.”

A guttural groan escaped Jaemin when you rolled your hips against his. Were you teasing him? Because it was hard for him to think and this distraction wasn’t helping. Either way, all he could think about was making you cum again and seeing that delicate look on your face as you crumbled in front of him.

“Sneak—sneak around?” Jaemin stammered, mouth going dry when you started taking off your shirt, and fuck, you weren’t wearing a bra. “Huh?”

“Jaemin,” you said slowly, smirking as you traced a finger along his jawline. “If you don’t want Jaehyun to catch us, we can just meet up secretly.”

If this was a game of cat and mouse, there was a clear power difference right now; Jaemin felt more like the mouse while you were the cat.

Jaemin’s eyes darkened a bit. “Fuck yeah,” he mumbled, hand grazing your bare skin. His eyes devoured the way you looked, and you wanted to squirm at the hungry look on his face. It was kind of embarrassing how badly Jaemin wanted to skip this whole conversation and fuck you into oblivion.

“Jaemin,” you called again, noting how his eyes flitted from your lips to your eyes.

He gave up. “I’ll be honest. I have no idea what we’re talking about but if we’re keeping this going between us, I’m all for it.”

“Good answer,” you hummed and pressed your lips to his.

You were a damn good kisser, Jaemin observed. He didn’t notice it before, but you had on some sort of fruity chapstick on that was making his head go fuzzy. The taste was addicting, and thank god you bit down on his lower lip because he wasn’t sure if he could handle another second without his tongue in your mouth.

He pulled away for a moment so he could push you down onto the bed, getting over you. Jaemin sighed deeply as you skimmed your hands down his bare chest, fingers tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants.

“You know, I lied that night,” you told Jaemin, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I’m not usually down for whatever, but I wanted to try my chance with you.”

Jaemin tutted at you, circling a finger around your nipple. “You shouldn’t have lied, Y/N,” he said, making you whimper when he pinched your hard nipple. “Could’ve stroked my ego a little more.”

“Sorry, but I’m not here to stroke your ego, Jaemin,” you simpered, choking over your words when Jaemin pressed open-mouthed kisses to your chest, eventually snaking his hot tongue across your nipple.

“You already are,” Jaemin murmured against your skin, littering hickeys as he kissed your chest. “Your reactions are so cute.”

Jaemin sucked on his fingers for a brief moment to provide some extra lubrication, not that you really needed it. He used his pointer and middle finger to rub against your slit, your whines growing needier as you became more and more aroused. After one more needy mewl from your lips, Jaemin had enough. He tugged his sweatpants and boxers down in one go, his hard cock slapping against his stomach once it was free.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned brokenly, eyeing the length of his cock.

“Such a good girl,” he crooned down at you, teasing his cock against your slit until you were a gasping, moaning mess under him. Then, Jaemin pulled away, clicking his tongue and grinning while you narrowed your eyes at him. “Condom,” he remembered.

Jaemin got off the bed to retrieve the silver packet from his nightstand, tearing it open with his teeth in one go. He caught you staring at how incredibly hung he was, smirking proudly as he slid the condom onto his shaft. He pumped it once for good measure and moved back onto the bed with you.

He stayed on his knees, angling your hips up so that they were positioned with his cock. You looked confused by the awkward position, but Jaemin melted away your worries with a powerful thrust into you. He groaned at how tight you were with your warm, wet walls clenching around him rhythmically.

Jaemin could tell he was hitting all the right spots by the broken moans that were escaping you when he pounded in you. His own growls were low and grating, relishing the way you felt around him. You were clutching his sheets so tight and bucking your hips so often that Jaemin had to use a hand to push your lower abdomen down, smirking as he felt his cock move in and out of you.

“You’re so big,” you gasped out, looking visibly frustrated at how you couldn’t hold onto him.

“Princess, I regret not doing this earlier,” Jaemin admitted with another rough thrust into you, making you sob out some distorted version of his name. “You feel so fucking good.”

“I’m close,” you choked out, and Jaemin kindly aided you by rubbing your clit as he brutally fucked you into the mattress.

You tucked your head into your shoulder, biting back your cries, so Jaemin grabbed your hair in a fistful and tilted it back so he could see your face. A shudder ran down his spine. Your expression was so perfect, so fucked in and glazed over.

“Shit,” he growled, voice raspy from arousal as you came undone in front of him.

His nimble fingers continued to work on your clit as you fell apart, moans ringing in his ears like a song. He followed you into your bliss, unable to hold back. He leaned over you and continued fucking you through your orgasm, holding you and groaning as he, too, released.

Jaemin stopped when he was done and spent. His arms buckled as they struggled to keep himself over you, and he could only pull out and collapse by your side. He muttered out a few curses, struggling to find the right words to say as he stared up at the ceiling. That felt good? No, too dry. I’m the only one who gets to fuck you like that? No, too possessive.

He settled with “you’re amazing” as his chest rose and fell in tune with yours.

“Likewise,” you breathed out and looked over at him. “I have to go home soon.”

Jaemin didn’t know what came over him, but he rolled over and wrapped his arms around you tightly. Normally, he wasn’t one for cuddling or aftercare, but he didn’t want you to go so soon. You relaxed under his touch as Jaemin drew you closer to his body, pulling the sheets over you both.

“Don’t go,” Jaemin whispered, tucking some hair behind your ear.

You turned to look at him, running your finger along his cheek tenderly. “Jaehyun’s gonna ask.”

Jaemin threw the sheets off of you and stood up quickly. “Have a safe trip back.”

It was the very next day when Jaemin hooked up with you again.

You had sent him a rather suggestive text, stating that you found it strenuous to walk after the previous night. In some sick and twisted way, Jaemin found this extremely hot and invited you over that night. Needless to say, you found it even more difficult to walk afterward.

The next day was the last day of the long weekend, so you spent nearly the entire day at Jaemin’s place before Jeno came home. Sure, you had sex once or twice then, but Jaemin really liked having you around. Even when you both weren’t exactly doing anything, your mere presence was comforting to him. In past hookups with other girls, he would always just get up and leave after the deed was done. However, with you, he was suddenly a sucker for aftercare.

Jaemin still felt like shit for going behind Jaehyun’s back and he was starting to question his stealth when Jeno came back home and discovered your bra on the couch.

“Oh, that’s where it was,” Jaemin said blankly, taking the bra from Jeno. “By the way, how was visiting your family?”

Jeno was still stuck on the bra, however. “Hold on,” he started, “whose bra is that?”

“Mine.”

“You wear bras?”

“What? No.” Jaemin made a face. “The fuck?”

“Na Jaemin, did you sleep with a random girl on our couch?”

“First of all, it wasn’t a random girl. It was Y/N,” Jaemin defended. “And secondly, we did it against the wall, actually. The couch was just a poor observer.”

“I don’t know if I should be impressed or disgusted,” Jeno replied, pondering over his best friend’s words. He glanced back at the wall and inched away from it. “Did you figure out what you’re going to do about Jaehyun?”

Jaemin grinned sheepishly. “I mean, what Jaehyun doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?”

“What happened to the Jaemin who was trying to ghost his sister?”

“He got laid.”

“This is so gonna backfire on you,” Jeno replied, shaking his head. “But I kind of want to watch it happen.”

“Dude,” Jaemin whined, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I broke the bro code so hard, but honestly, the sex is too good.”

“Jaemin, I don’t want to hear about your sexcapades, thanks.”

The next time Jaemin hooked up with you was almost an absolute disaster.

Keyword: almost.

“Jeno,” Jaemin warbled in a desperate cry, “I’m fucked. I’m absolutely fucked.”

“What’s up?” came the disinterested voice of his best friend who was sprawled out on the couch, flipping listlessly through a textbook.

“I need you to help me out,” Jaemin begged. “Y/N wants me to go over to her place but Jaehyun’s home.”

That was how Jaemin ended up behind your house, trying to hoist himself up onto a tree that was close to your window. Jeno was on the phone, keeping a lookout from his car that was parked on the street. This was, quite honestly, probably one of the stupidest things Jaemin had ever done because not only did he have a fear of heights, but he was risking his life just for his friend not to see him walking in the house.

There was something about hanging onto the branch of a tree for dear life that made a man question his pride.

“All this for some pussy,” Jeno tutted through his AirPods.

“Shut up, Jeno,” Jaemin muttered, a flush of heat rising to his cheeks. Truth be told, he just really wanted to see you, not that he would admit that.

He hauled himself onto one of the thicker branches that led to your window and inched his way along it to reach the windowsill. A frown crossed his lips as he reached out to knock on the glass. You told him you’d keep the window open for him, so why was it closed?

The answer was obvious, but it didn’t sink in until Jaehyun opened the window to see Jaemin dangling from a tree branch.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, was all that was running through his mind. His head felt like it was going a thousand miles per second but the rest of his body was short-circuiting.

“Jaemin, what are you doing outside my window?” Jaehyun asked, looking absolutely perturbed.

“I’m, uh…” Jaemin paused to think while he could hear Jeno laughing at him through his AirPods. “Jeno and I wanted to prank you.”

“Jeno? Prank?” Jaehyun questioned. “Are you not here for a study session with Y/N?”

Jaemin stilled. He wasn’t sure he had any classes with you, but surely you must have made up this excuse to Jaehyun so that Jaemin could be in your house freely. Jeno’s laughing intensified as Jaemin blinked at his team captain.

“Right, well—”

“Jaemin, what are you doing there?” your sweet, innocent voice rang from Jaehyun’s door.

There was a mischievous glint in your eyes despite how concerned you tried to look. Jaemin saw right through you, though, and grimaced.

“Just… hanging out,” Jaemin grunted out as he tried to crawl in through Jaehyun’s window.

Jaehyun reached his hand out to help Jaemin and dragged him through the window with ease, so smooth that Jaemin pretended he didn’t hit his head against the side of the frame of the window as he was pulled inside. The tree branch bounced back to its original position, its leaves rustling wildly once Jaemin’s weight was off of them. Jaehyun helped Jaemin dust himself off and grabbed one of his shoulders firmly, using his free hand to pat his back.

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun said slowly, “use the door next time.”

“Got it,” Jaemin croaked out.

“We can go to my room and study, Jaemin,” you piped up, turning on your heel to head back to your room as soon as you were sure you had his attention.

“Right, um… see you, man,” Jaemin told Jaehyun, awkwardly following after you after Jaehyun returned the goodbye.

Jaemin had been to Jaehyun’s house for parties, but being there in the daytime was unnerving. He ended the call with Jeno, quickly texting him that he was safe before stuffing his phone and AirPods in his pockets. Jaemin turned the corner to see you sitting cross-legged on the floor of your room. A loud sigh escaped his lips before he made his way in, closing the door behind him.

“You’re paying for that,” he warned.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, a laugh falling from your lips just before Jaemin strode over, pushing you down onto the floor and hovering over you. You parted your lips to speak but whatever you were going to say died on your tongue as Jaemin swooped in and kissed you.

This is a terrible place to be doing this, the rational side of Jaemin’s brain provided, but then he was kissing you and it didn’t matter anymore.

Jaemin lost himself in the kiss as soon as he was tasting your fruity chapstick. He cupped your jaw, intoxicated by the way your lips felt against his. He was so dazed that he hardly noticed you unzipping his pants, tugging them down by his belt loops.

“Aren’t we studying?” Jaemin teased, brushing his nose against yours. He glanced over at the mess of books and papers at your table.

“Mm, do you want to study instead?” you asked, drawing him closer to you. “Pass up on this and read up on some cell division?”

“Fuck no.” Jaemin scoffed, dragging his nails up your thigh. “Spread those legs for me, angel.”

A mewl escaped your lips when you spread your legs because Jaemin immediately started palming your apex without missing a beat. The burst of pride that followed made him a little braver, a little less worrisome over your older brother.

“Take off your pants,” you breathed out, tugging once more at his waistband.

“No.” Jaemin moved off of you and hauled himself up to sit on your bed. “I want you to ride my thigh.” His eyes practically devoured the way you looked. “And keep the skirt on.”

You stood up, biting your lip as you moved to straddle his right thigh. Jaemin’s hands ran up and down your thighs, moving up to your hips eventually to rub slow circles with his thumb. His lips were attached to your neck almost immediately, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column.

You let a whimper slip from your lips and Jaemin started bouncing his leg steadily, his muscular thigh rubbing against your clit. He guided your movements with his hands as you rolled your hips against him. Jaemin flexed his thigh every once in a while and made sure to pull you down on him whenever he could make use of the friction.

Another moan from you and Jaemin sneered. “You’re getting off so well on my thigh, Y/N. Such a fucking tease but you react so easily.” You whined again and Jaemin shushed you. “Be quiet, princess. We don’t want to be walked in on, right?”

And, because the world hated Jaemin, Jaehyun decided to walk in.

“Y/N, can I come in for a second?” he called from outside the door.

In an instant, you practically flew off of Jaemin’s lap, scrambling back to your table and burying your nose in your biology textbook. There were a few long seconds of Jaemin silently communicating with you out of frustration. You had escaped just fine, but Jaemin just had to get a hard-on, and now that you were off his lap, it was far too obvious through his pants.

But you already told Jaehyun he could come in, so Jaemin put both hands over his crotch in a valiant (but stupid) effort to hide his boner while the door opened.

“I’m going to the store,” Jaehyun said, looking between you and Jaemin from the doorway. “Want anything?”

“No, we’re good,” you replied, but Jaehyun’s eyes were fixed on Jaemin, narrowing slightly.

“I’ll get going then, but are you good?” Jaehyun asked, gesturing at the awkward position Jaemin was in. “The bathroom’s across the hall if you need to go.”

Jaemin’s eyes flitted to yours to see an amused look on your face, and he could practically hear your voice bouncing in his skull: This is fun.

This wasn’t exactly Jaemin’s textbook dictionary definition of fun, however.

“Thanks,” Jaemin croaked out, looking down at his lap in shame. A flush of red crossed his cheeks and you barked out a laugh as soon as Jaehyun was gone. “Not funny,” he grumbled out.

An impish grin crossed your face as you asked, “Need me to take care of your problem?”

“Please,” Jaemin almost begged.

The moment you stood up, Jaemin was quickly trying to tug his pants down, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his boxers to take them off with his pants. This was awful in the absolutely best way possible because Jaemin’s hands felt clammy but then you were kneeling down in front of him, helping him take his pants off. You looked up at Jaemin when his hard cock curved up against his stomach. A breath escaped his lips like it had been punched out of him and he wondered if his eyes were as comically wide as they felt.

When the sound of Jaehyun closing the front door echoed, you grasped Jaemin’s painfully hard cock in your soft hands. Jaemin’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth. He couldn’t even ask you to do anything with all his bravado from earlier suddenly vanishing. So, he curled a hand in your hair, more for his own leverage.

Jaemin’s stomach rearranged itself to feel like some crazed etch-a-sketch rather than the human anatomy when he felt your lips wrap around his cock.

“Shit, that’s it,” he growled when you went down on him. He flushed all over, clear in the way his cock twitched in your mouth, and it made him feel like some silly, lovesick teenager. “Oh god, you feel so good with your mouth wrapped around my cock, princess.”

A sound of approval came from your throat, vibrating against the throbbing vein along Jaemin’s shaft and making him go crazy. You bobbed your head up and down, teasing him by going so slow to the point that it was nearly unbearable for Jaemin. He felt like a coil of fire was tightly woven inside him, ready to snap at any given moment.

“Fuck… don’t tease me—wait, are you asleep?”

Jaemin looked down to see you half-asleep on his cock, lips brushing against the vein along the side. Your eyes weren’t hooded but fluttered shut, head lolling to the side and your tongue grazing the underside of his head. A hiss escaped Jaemin’s lips at your teasing, but he felt more incredulous than turned on.

“I’m tired,” you said, “and you didn’t finish me off, so why should I finish you off?”

“Well, this is just unfair,” Jaemin replied with a frustrated huff as you pulled off of him. His gaze softened when he saw you rub your eyes, though. He fumbled for a moment, pulling his boxers and pants back up and tucking away the frustration of not getting his release. “You’re actually tired?”

“Kind of,” you admitted. “I’ve been studying my ass off all week for midterms.”

“Okay, well…” Jaemin faltered before scooting back on your bed until he was against the wall. “Let’s take a nap then.”

“Nap? Oh, so we—oh, okay,” you mumbled and Jaemin’s heart skipped a few beats when he saw you suck in your lower lip nervously.

You crawled into your bed and laid down, pulling the covers over them after Jaemin moved so he was right next to you. Jaemin had never exactly slept with a girl like this, but with you, his chest felt warm. It felt right. Without a word, he pulled you to his chest so you wouldn’t have to see how nervous you were making him feel, praying you couldn’t hear his heart pounding in his chest.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled to him.

And, because Jaemin was a loser who feared rejection and the reality that he was an actual human who felt real emotions, he pressed his lips to your head and whispered into your hair, “I like you.”

If you heard him or noticed, Jaemin wouldn’t have known because falling asleep was so much easier with you in his arms.

“You slept with her? Like, without sex?” Jeno asked Jaemin that night, to which he nodded. “You didn’t hook up with her at all?”

“Jaehyun walked in the first time and the second time… let’s not get into that,” Jaemin replied. “The point is, we fucking cuddled, Jeno.”

“That’s kinda weird.”

“Right?” Jaemin tugged a hand through his hair, letting out an aggravated groan. “Maybe I shouldn’t go to Jaehyun’s place on Friday.”

Parties were one thing, but at least once a month, the basketball team would hold bonding events for everyone to unwind and chill. Jaemin usually attended every event since he was close with all of the members, but Jaehyun’s house became dangerous territory now because of you. However, Jaemin was expected to take the place of team captain when Jaehyun graduated, so he knew it would be bad if he didn’t attend all the socials the basketball team held.

“Why? Can’t keep it in your pants?” Jeno teased.

Jaemin threw a pillow at him. “Fuck off.”

“It’s been postponed to the end of the month, anyway,” Jeno assured. “Jaehyun said he had a date this Friday or something.”

“Then I’m safe for now.”

It got silent for a moment before Jeno asked, “Are you catching feelings?”

Silence.

Did Jaemin like you? Sure, he mumbled it for himself to hear when he was holding you, which was pretty suspicious of him to do that if he didn’t actually have any feelings toward you. He perfectly understood the feeling at an intellectual level, but absorbing it emotionally was beyond his realm of understanding. Plus, there was no point in having feelings for someone if they didn’t reciprocate.

Right?

Jaemin only had a few crushes before, and the feelings were so surface-level that he started to wonder how many aspects of life he had missed out on because of his inability to grow close to people. That was why he had confined himself to the hookup culture because the “no strings attached” aspect was so appealing to him, but now it was backfiring because of you. It was so fucked up because Jaemin didn’t even want to fuck around with you anymore. Scratch that. He did, but he also wanted to hold your hand, go on dates, and kiss you until your fruity chapstick made him dizzy again.

You were great in bed, but what got Jaemin’s heart racing was the way you laughed when he made a lame joke and you couldn’t get over how terrible it was; the way you told stories with your hands, and your face would light up because you would get so excited; the way the food you made looked absolutely nauseating but, for whatever reason, it tasted amazing, and Jaemin could go on, but he was afraid he’d start melting in front of Jeno.

“No way,” Jaemin lied. “It’s just for the sex, that’s all.”

It wasn’t fair that you always showed up at the one place Jaemin was most vulnerable: basketball practice.

Truth be told, you were causing Jaemin problems well before you even arrived. Hell, you had been causing problems for the past three weeks. Not that Jaemin hated it, but he couldn’t keep it in his pants every time you dragged him to a blind spot or invited him to your place. There were also times where Jaemin would just simply walk with you, or talk about your day in bed, or just hold your hand and stroke your hair until you fell asleep.

Pretty weird for fuckbuddies.

Earlier in the day, Jaemin had run into you while he was walking to his biology lecture, and after some light conversation, he had you pinned up against the back of a building. He ended up getting a very noticeable hickey on his neck from you that he didn’t know existed until Jaehyun pointed it out during practice.

“Jaemin.” Jaehyun let out a low whistle and gestured to his neck. “Finally got over your weird celibacy phase?”

“What are you—”

“Nice hickey,” Yuta complimented while he was passing by, “finally got laid, huh?”

Only then did Jaemin realize that you had marked up his neck, and did so proudly. You knew people would see but you still went ahead and did it. Jaemin would’ve been mad but somehow, the thought of showing off something you caused turned him on.

Thankfully, you showed up when practice had ended and the others were heading into the locker room, all sweaty and tired. Absorbed in their own conversations, the rest of Jaemin’s teammates were focused on talking about their last play and looking forward to a cold shower. Jaemin, however, did a double-take when he saw you, nudging Jeno to keep going while he stayed back.

You really had no good reason coming to the basketball courts. It wasn’t like you or your big brother actually wanted to walk home together.

“I’m starting to think you come here to see me,” Jaemin said smugly, making his way over to you.

“Not even,” you replied, although your fazed look said otherwise. “But I appreciate the eye candy.”

Jaemin reached out to take your hands in his and pulled you toward him. You looked down at your feet, right foot circling around one of the stray basketballs that had been left behind during practice. Jaemin, however, had his eyes focused on you. He couldn’t get tired of looking at you, especially when you were wearing that cozy purple sweater that made him want to pull you into his arms.

Jaemin noticed your foot on the basketball and held your hands a little tighter as you put your weight on it to get your other foot on. You were shakily balancing on it, grabbing Jaemin’s hands tightly as a grin slowly spread across your face.

You’re too cute, was what Jaemin wanted to say.

“You’re still shorter than me even when you’re standing on a basketball,” he teased instead, one hand slipping around your waist to keep you steady.

You pouted. “I’m basically the same height as you now.”

“Really?” Jaemin smirked at your expression, moving closer so that his lips were at your forehead. He moved his hands so they were both holding your waist, keeping you planted on the basketball. “I think I still have an inch or two on you.”

“That’s not fair,” you whispered, but Jaemin was tilting your chin up and smiling at how you were visibly growing shy. “Jaemin, my brother might walk out any second.”

“Fuck your brother,” Jaemin murmured and kissed you.

People threw around the term “time slowed down” so casually, that Jaemin believed it was a silly hoax; however, he was starting to understand it. Each kiss he shared with you before felt so rushed, but now, everything around him didn’t matter anymore. It was like every fear, every concern he had was lost as he was lost in the taste of your lips.

Your hands cupped his face, deepening the kiss and making Jaemin nearly forget that you were barely balancing on a basketball. He tightened his hold around you when you pulled a hand away to run through his hair and god, he relished that feeling. When he desperately needed air again, Jaemin pulled away, nipping at your bottom lip cheekily as he did so.

He didn’t want to see your reaction, though, so he pulled you down from the basketball and hugged you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You were visually overwhelming, anyway, and Jaemin wasn’t too keen on seeing your reaction to his tenderness. Jaemin felt like such a melt for being this affected over a simple kiss, but all he wanted at the moment was to be closer to you.

“Jaemin?” you asked, shocked by his sudden intimacy.

“Shut up,” he murmured into your neck, “I just want to hold you right now.”

“Bruh.”

Jaemin didn’t process the fact that a third person was in the gym until it registered that the masculine voice couldn’t have been coming from you. On the bright side, the voice came from the one person who knew about whatever was going on between you and Jaemin. He then wondered why he was starting to become an optimist.

You and Jaemin both pulled away quickly like repelling magnets. There was a flicker of panic in your eyes, seeming to cool down when you noticed that Jaemin wasn’t freaking out. It was quite devastating for Jaemin to come to realize that he was the standard for what to worry over.

Jaemin, not sparing you a glance, walked over to where his best friend was standing and shoved him, not straying from his direct route to the locker room.

“You have some explaining to do,” Jeno muttered before Jaemin passed him.

“Fuck off, Jeno.”

Jeno flashed a sheepish grin at you before turning back to follow Jaemin, patting him firmly on the back to tease him. Jaemin, however, was unsettled. Whatever he felt for you was moving past sexual attraction to something much deeper, and he wasn’t sure if he could suppress it any longer.

You truly were the cat, and although Jaemin refused to believe it, you had already caught him.

Jeno somehow managed to stay quiet about what had happened between you and Jaemin until after they reached their apartment. Jaemin almost believed he was going to pretend like he didn’t see anything, but it would be laughable to think that Lee Jeno wouldn’t mock him about it.

“That’s the thing with fuckbuddies,” Jeno explained as he shrugged off his coat, “someone’s gonna catch feelings eventually.”

“Thanks, Jeno,” Jaemin spat, tone laced with sarcasm. “You never cease to make me feel like shit.”

“So you admit that you caught feelings?”

It was like an arrow through a bullseye, not that Jaemin was going to admit to that, but the thought of him potentially catching feelings for you was terrifying. It was even more frightening because he probably already did. This was supposed to be the time where Jaemin blanched and would become shockingly avoidant around you, but he was waiting for those instincts to kick in rather than the desperate urge to run over and kiss you.

But, moreover, screw Lee Jeno for majoring in neuroscience. His best friend studying the human brain and its cognition was the worst thing that could have ever happened to Jaemin.

Jaemin paused, hesitating before he spoke, “No… I’m just worried that one of us will.”

Jeno raised a brow at him. “Whatever you two were doing was not normal for fuckbuddies.”

“It’s called hugging, Jeno. It’s not my fault you have the emotional range of a teaspoon.”

Jaemin moved to sit on the couch, turning his back to Jeno and hugging a pillow as he shrunk back into the cushion. But Jeno knew that Jaemin always listened to what he had to say. It was a natural instinct by now. Although Jaemin would rather die than say it aloud, his best friend always gave the best advice even though it was probably not what Jaemin wanted to hear.

“Are you okay?” Jeno asked instead.

Jaemin froze. He was never any good at expressing himself. He presented himself as a simple man on the outside, but he was really just layers of multitudes. But, sometimes, your mere attention was like uncut cocaine to him, and then Jaemin would wonder if he really was simple.

“I’m fine,” Jaemin muttered back.

“You’re good at being fine, aren’t you?”

Jeno fastidiously fixed his hair before he retreated to his room. Jaemin was surprised by how he cut the advice session this time and left Jaemin to his own thoughts.

Exhausted, Jaemin stared at his lock screen. It was a picture of you and him at a park. Ducks in the pond. You caught off-guard with hair in your mouth. Jaemin with a smile brighter than the sun. Who the fuck took selfies with girls they fucked on the down-low? And who the fuck set them as their wallpapers? Apparently, Jaemin did.

He was sick.

Maybe Jeno was right, but Jaemin refused to accept that possibility because that would make him even more disgusted with himself.

He could only think of one thing and it was how he was in love with you.

Sex was one thing, but love? The number one rule of best friendship was probably don’t fucking fall in love with your best friend’s sister.

Furthermore, Jaemin didn’t know how to act around you now. In the conspectus of Things That Could Go Wrong in his brain, he hadn’t anticipated actually falling for you. He should’ve taken your godsent looks and heavenly laugh as a red flag that first night because now he was addicted.

It wasn’t like Jaemin had absolutely zero experience with girls, but usually, he just went with it. Being the one chasing after you was mentally taxing and the thought of you possibly not wanting him back was unthinkable. Then again, it was pretty clear that it was mutual between the two of you, but Jaemin was confident that you were a breath away from snapping at him for his inconsistency.

He was the one that pushed you away, after all. A sudden transition from resisting to wanting you completely was sure to freak you out, so Jaemin was stuck at a crossroads.

After a few Google searches of asking the internet if he caught feelings and an episode of self-denial and self-loathing, Jaemin decided it was high time for him to call you and tell you how he felt. That, or he was going to panic and break things off before he got emotionally invested.

Before he could do either, Jeno walked back to the living room, putting his coat back on. He looked dressed up as if he was going out somewhere, and Jaemin’s suspicions were confirmed when he went to get his shoes.

“What’re you all dressed up for?” Jaemin asked, sitting up straight again.

“Jaehyun’s house.” Jeno raised a brow at him. “It’s Friday.”

God, if you’re out there, Jaemin thought, defeated. Screw you and your son. Amen.

Jaemin had to psych himself into the proper state of mind for tonight.

That all went to shit, however, when he saw you sitting in the living room, laughing at something Yuta had said.

“Oh my god,” Jeno said in a low voice when he saw Jaemin frozen in the doorway. “Tell me you’re not jealous right now.”

“Piss off,” Jaemin spat, kicking off his shoes at the entrance. “It’s nothing like that.”

Except that it was exactly like that. Jaemin wasn’t the jealous type, but right now, his blood was roiling in his gut. Deep inside, he knew it was probably nothing to worry about, but the way you smiled around Yuta was pissing him off. Then, he realized that he had no relationship with you that gave him any right to stop Yuta from flirting with you.

And then, you turned to see Jaemin in the doorway and smiled at him.

Oh no, Jaemin thought in complete devastation. She’s pretty.

“Y/N, tonight’s for the basketball team,” Jaehyun told you from the living room, making a motion with his hands to signal you to leave. “Go to your room.”

“You’re such a nosy older brother,” YangYang chimed in, nudging a chuckle out of Jaehyun. “But yeah, Y/N, Friday nights are for the boys.”

“I know, I know,” you said with a laugh. “I’ll go now. I was just grabbing some water.”

Jaemin was still frozen stiff at the doorway as you grabbed a half-empty bottle of water from the kitchen counter (despite Jeno’s several attempts to get him to move) and then walked to the staircase to Jaemin’s left. But then you grabbed Jaemin by the front of his shirt and started dragging him upstairs with you. He barely registered it all happening in the span of a few seconds, but he was able to catch Jeno saying he’d tell the others that Jaemin was running late.

“Y/N? What are you doing?” Jaemin whispered harshly, although he still followed you into your room and let you lock the door.

This was far too risky. Not only was Jaehyun home, but the entire basketball team was downstairs.

You started tying your hair up and Jaemin gulped, realizing where this was going. “Do you want me to suck you off or not?” you asked, smiling.

“Say no more,” Jaemin breathed out, unzipping his pants hastily.

He sat down on your bed, letting you tug his boxers down, your eyes full of mirth. Jaemin felt so pathetic when his cock twitched as soon as you wrapped a hand around its girth, but he was ready to put his pride to the side for once.

Jaemin was about to rasp out something but then you took his head in your mouth and a sudden wave of heat punched him in the gut. But then you pulled away, lips against the underside of his head, and Jaemin was a second away from just crying.

“You have nice hands,” you complimented with a mischievous smile as Jaemin held the back of your head eagerly. He felt like he was going crazy with the way you were mouthing your words against his cock.

“You have nice lips,” he returned through gritted teeth. “But please shut the fuck up and get to it already.”

Your lips curled slowly. “So impatient,” you cooed, tongue dragging along the underside of his cock. Jaemin bucked his hips forward, trying to chase the sensation, but you were teasing him.

“God, you’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.”

You smirked up at him, moving your head to lick against the slit before taking his cock in your mouth again. A few laborious seconds passed with Jaemin biting his lip so that he didn’t make any noise, and then you finally started sucking him off. He fought the urge not to groan when your tongue rolled along the vein down his shaft.

You showed Jaemin no mercy, however. It was almost like you wanted everyone downstairs to hear. He gritted his teeth when your teeth grazed his cock, and he wanted more. He gripped your hair for anchorage and fucked into your mouth. The smallest whimper escaped you when Jaemin’s cock hit the back of your throat.

Jaemin let out a strangled groan. “I’m close.”

You took this as your cue to suck him off even harsher, and Jaemin was on the brink of sweet release. A tear escaped your eyes as he fucked into your throat, and Jaemin wiped it with his thumb, drinking in the wrecked sight of you that was bringing him over the edge. You let a broken moan vibrate against Jaemin’s shaft, and he was done for.

Jaemin couldn’t recall being able to cum this fast because of someone’s mouth before, but here he was, groaning as his hot seed shot down your throat. You obediently swallowed it, eyes hazy and tear-soaked from the size of him.

A few moments of silence passed before Jaemin leaned down and pecked your lips, heart fluttering a bit in his chest as he did so. “Good girl.”

He swore he saw you lifting a finger to scratch your cheek lightly, which was a nervous quirk of yours that Jaemin had picked up on, but you turned away quickly to fix your hair while Jaemin was pulling his pants back up. The tension that followed made Jaemin unsure of whether to leave or take you against the wall. He decided against the latter, knowing that Jeno couldn’t stall forever.

“Leaving already?” you asked, reaching for Jaemin’s hand, which he gladly entwined with yours.

“I’m already on thin ice,” Jaemin explained. “I have to go back down there and hope they don’t question me.” You moved closer to him, hands moving down to graze past his waistband. Jaemin hissed slightly under his breath and diverted by rubbing the back of his neck. “Uh, so you and Yuta…”

“You’re still on that?” you asked, pulling your hands back. “I can’t laugh around another guy now?”

“No, no!” Jaemin groaned, tugging a hand through his hair out of frustration. “Nevermind, it’s nothing.”

“Is it not obvious, Jaemin?” you asked him, an edge of desperation to your voice. “You really can’t tell how I feel?”

Jaemin sighed, looking down at his feet. “You can’t tell how I feel either?”

“You—what?”

“We’ll talk later. I have to go.”

He turned to go back downstairs, but you grabbed his wrist, saying, “Jaemin, remember that you’re the one who didn’t want anything more out of this.”

Jaemin gave you a puzzled look but before he could ask for clarification, you had pulled away from him and gestured for him to leave. He mumbled a pathetic excuse, spitting out a string of words for a moment before he gave up and snuck downstairs as quietly as he could.

He hated that you were right. Even though you had suggested sneaking around, Jaemin was the one who tried to draw the boundary. He did this to himself.

“Yo, Jaemin,” Yuta called, “when did you get here?”

“Just now,” Jaemin answered, rubbing the back of his neck as he walked into the living room where all the basketball team members were sprawled over the couch. “What’re we watching?”

“Pulp Fiction,” Taeyong answered. “Can you get the ice cream from the kitchen?”

“Sure.” Jaemin opened Jaehyun’s freezer to see two tubs of ice cream nestled in the corner. While he was pondering over whether to grab chocolate or vanilla, he felt a presence behind him and looked over his shoulder. “Did you need—oh my god, go to your room,” he whispered harshly at the sight of you.

“Are you my mom?” You raised a brow at him and reached for an ice cream tub. “Let me help you open them.”

“Fine,” he mumbled, voice fracturing at the end. He watched you move to the kitchen’s island and, carefully eyeing his teammates in the living room, letting his hand graze your thigh and whispering, “Hey, I’m sorry for earlier.”

You stiffened at his touch. “It’s fine,” you whispered back, opening the tubs of ice cream. “You’ve just been acting weird lately.”

“Weird?” Jaemin asked as he opened his tub. The ice cream dripped off the lid and onto Jaemin’s finger. “Ugh. Do you have napkins?”

“You’re so messy, Jaemin.”

“Shut up.”

“Let me help,” you insisted, grabbing his wrist and taking his fingers in your mouth.

Jaemin’s eyes widened by a fraction as your hot tongue circled around his fingers. He fought down the urge to take it further and bit his lip as he watched you. Before he could do anything, however, an awkward laugh and wolf-whistle from the living room made him freeze.

Jaemin’s head shot up to see his teammates staring at him, shell-shocked. Some looked absolutely confused while others looked more proud and impressed. Jaemin wondered if you had no shame because, despite all the eyes on them, you didn’t let go of his hand, your pretty lips still wrapped around his fingers.

“I don’t know why she’s doing that,” Jaemin rambled quickly, and his tone was so frazzled that Jeno had to hide his laugh behind his fist. “Come on, Y/N,” he urged, voice dropping for you to hear. “Let go of my hand.”

It would have been sexy if Jaemin wasn’t absolutely terrified.

Only when Jaemin caught sight of Jaehyun’s expression did you let go, saying, “Thanks for the ice cream.” With a playful smile, you looked up at Jaemin expectantly.

“What the fuck did we just witness?” Jungwoo asked, lit up silly like he had just witnessed the biggest scandal.

“We’re friends,” Jaemin croaked out. “Right, Y/N? Jaehyun? Jeno?”

Jeno ducked his head and Jaemin could tell what exactly he was thinking: I can’t help you out of this one, Jaem.

Jaemin couldn’t exactly read Jaehyun’s expression. It was a mix of emotions so varied that they didn’t make sense to him. He couldn’t even pick out any distinguishable one, but maybe it was better he didn’t know what the captain was feeling.

“I swear, it's not what it looks like,” Jaemin defended.

“So Y/N wasn’t sucking on your fingers?” Taeyong asked, a ghost of a laugh on his lips.

“Okay, so it’s exactly what it looks like,” Jaemin muttered and pursed his lips together. “But it’s—it’s nothing,” he reasoned, and at this point, it seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than them.

Either way, it wasn’t working.

Who was he kidding, anyway? They weren’t stupid, and it was clear as day that Jaemin couldn’t get enough of you. For heaven's sake, he even got jealous over Yuta making you laugh. Before, one would have to pry open the cold, hard jaws of his corpse to get a word out about how he felt, but now Jaemin felt like you had broken down his last line of defense.

Jaemin could already see the consequences that would follow, but he still blurted out, “Fine. You got me. Jaehyun, I’m in love with your sister.”

Jaemin’s neurons were tearing themselves over the fact that Jaemin had just professed his love to you and was now experiencing a state of total humiliation. He was confident he wouldn’t ever live this moment down.

The room went silent. Not only were the boys shocked, but you were, too. Jaemin himself couldn’t believe he let that slip, but there was no going back now. Jeno sat there with his jaw hung open and Jaemin couldn’t blame him. He didn’t even know he was going to drop the love bomb like that out of nowhere. Taeyong looked like he had just witnessed a murder as his eyes kept darting between Jaemin and Jaehyun, Jungwoo looked a little too proud, and Yuta was just washed over with realization.

“Oh.” Jaehyun blinked. “Cool, I guess. Does that mean you’re not joining us for movie night then?”

Jaemin wasn’t sure how obvious the shock showed on his face, but this felt too easy. For a little over a month, Jaemin had been skirting around his relationship with you because of your big brother, and now he was acting scarily nonchalant.

“You’re not mad?” Jaemin asked, wide-eyed.

Jaehyun laughed. “I mean, it’s kinda weird that you’re dating my little sister, but why would I be mad?”

“Maybe it’s because you said ‘if anyone lays a hand on my little sister, then I will make sure you look uglier than you already are,’” Yuta reminded him with Jaemin nodding along at his words. “And that was verbatim.”

“That’s for people hitting on my sister to get laid, not people dating my sister,” Jaehyun corrected. “I don’t control her decisions.”

Jaemin smiled through the internal pain of realizing he did exactly that. If Jaehyun found out he wasn’t dating you, then Jaemin was in for an earful. Thankfully, you were too dazed over Jaemin’s earlier confession to decide to start shit.

“Plus,” Jaehyun continued, “I knew you guys had a thing.”

“What?” Jaemin spluttered, blinking wildly. His tongue was performing acrobatics to formulate words but it wasn’t working.

“I had a suspicion when you climbed up my tree to get into the house,” Jaehyun said. “When I walked into the room later, that just confirmed my suspicions because, you know…”

Jaemin’s cheeks went hot when he realized that Jaehyun had probably caught onto the fact that he had a boner back then. Without a word, you rushed out of the kitchen, gaze averted which was what Jaemin supposed was embarrassment. Jaemin heard the front door open and close. He turned to follow after you, but swallowed thickly and froze in place.

“Go, Jaemin,” Jeno urged him, a tone of seriousness taking over.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” YangYang said cooly. “It’s just movie night.”

Jaemin clenched his jaw and nodded, thinking about how shitty it would be if he did all of that just to be rejected. Jaehyun’s house was a warzone and he knew better than to come tonight, but he still did, and he still fucked everything up. If things went wrong with you—

“Jaemin,” Jaehyun cut into his thoughts, “just so you know, I’m cool with you dating my sister.”

It was funny how a few words could make someone’s day, but Jaemin was surprised at the weight those words took off of his shoulders. He contained the joy to a half-smile and left the kitchen and walked out of your house to find you.

You hadn’t gone far at all. You were pacing along the sidewalk looking frazzled, hands lacing together and eyes cast down. Jaemin walked over to you and tried to take your hand but you pulled away.

“Did you mean what you said?” you asked, overcome with raw emotion.

“Yeah,” Jaemin replied, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I know I’m the one who didn’t want to start anything, and I lied about not wanting anything, but… this is how I feel, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“I’m not exactly expressive if you haven’t noticed.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve noticed,” you replied incredulously, lower lip starting to quiver. “I just—I don’t know—I thought I was just going to be an afterthought to you.”

Jaemin froze when he saw tears start to gloss your eyes. He never knew how to deal with people crying, especially when they were girls. He took your face in his hands and wiped your stray tears away with his thumbs, sighing softly.

“Let’s go to my place.”

“What? Why?”

“I need to show you how much I love you,” he replied firmly, taking your hand in his and walking in the direction of his apartment. “It’s kind of funny that you thought that because you’ve been all I could think about for the past month.”

More tears were starting to well up in your eyes, but you blinked them away.

Stay calm, Jaemin’s brain instructed him. Cupid can sense your fear.

“I love you,” he continued. “Should I say it again? I love you, I love you, I love—”

“Alright, Jaemin!” Your face beamed like a Christmas tree but you were still a flustered mess. “God, stop looking at me like that.”

“No,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I’m going to keep saying it because I don’t think you get it.”

“Jaemin, we’re in the middle of the sidewalk,” you squeaked out as he kissed your cheek.

“I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss. “I love you.” Kiss.

“J-Jaemin, I get it,” you whined out, scrunching your nose up at his affection. Jaemin continued, though, and you happened to reach your limit. You gripped his shoulders and held him away from you. “God, Jaemin, I love you, okay? You have to give me a chance to say it back at least.”

This time, Jaemin was the one to get shy. “Huh? You like me back?”

“Jaemin, you idiot, you’re so slow,” you mused, “I’ve liked you this entire time.”

He took your hand, his gaze never leaving yours, and rubbed your palm in circles with his thumb. “I know I’ve been a dick… on multiple occasions,” he admitted, “but I want to be with you.”

“Jaemin—”

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

Jaemin wondered how many seconds passed after, but it felt like centuries to him. He didn’t budge, however, because he wanted you more than ever.

“Yes,” you finally confessed, which, in essence, was a fever dream in itself.

Jaemin expected his reaction to be different, but instead, his eyes wandered off, lost in thought. He looked toward the moon overlooking that hill where he nearly hooked up with you on the night of the party. That felt like eons ago despite being not that long ago, but it carried a comforting wave of nostalgia.

“You know, on second thought, we’re gonna stargaze.”

You looked at Jaemin like he was some undiscovered specimen, but you still followed him. He laid on his back, scrunching up his nose when the grass tickled his face, and he held his hand out to you. You took it, crouching down to lay down next to him. This time, Jaemin spread his arm out so that you could lay against his chest.

You cuddled up against his chest and Jaemin thought he could die a happy man.

He looked over at you, heart hammering against his ribcage like he was hopped up on ten energy drinks. The glow of the moon illuminated the gentle curves of your face and Jaemin didn’t realize he was kissing you until he realized he had tilted your face toward him and cupped your soft cheek. His whole body felt fuzzy when your hands rested on his chest, when he could taste your fruity chapstick.

It was kind of embarrassing how nervous Jaemin was getting. His hands were starting to sweat and he was feeling kiss-dazed, smiling like an idiot because your soft lips were everything. When he pulled away, he pecked your lips one last time, his eyes unable to leave your face.

He threw his pride to the wind and confessed, “You’re so beautiful.”

Your expression was priceless. Jaemin indulged in watching you become a stuttering, faltering mess in front of him, struggling for words that could come out coherently.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t call anyone beautiful over your dead body,” you managed.

“Well, you’re not anyone, are you?” Jaemin raised a brow “You’re Y/N.”

“You’re such a smooth talker sometimes,” you acknowledged, “you know, when you’re not completely malfunctioning.”

“Shh.” Jaemin pulled you closer. “Let me enjoy this.”

“Fine, but you’re making it up to me later for playing cat and mouse for a month.”

Jaemin scoffed. “Please, I was the mouse most of the time.”

A bubble of a laugh escaped your lips and you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. “I’m really happy, you know?” you mumbled into his chest.

Jaemin kissed the top of your head, whispering a “yeah” into your hair. Maybe one day he’d admit that he was just as over-the-moon as you were, and maybe it would be coerced out of him hours later, but right now, under the starry night sky, he could only think about how lucky he was. It was funny, though, because now he could see the stars.

And they were so beautiful.

9K notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

could you possibly write something about Sirius & remus dating and remus feeling bad that Sirius keeps paying (since obviously he's big deal NHLer v trainer)

Oof, yes. This was combined with asks for some Coops hurt/comfort where one doesn't want to talk, as well as an argument. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for wealth insecurity, small argument (not a blowout)

Grocery shopping had never been Remus’ favorite thing in the world, but he had to admit it was a lot more fun when everything came with the thrilling reminder that he was living with the love of his life. He got to learn Sirius’ preferences on everything from candles (softer scents, or something woodsy) to towels (as fluffy as humanly possible) and filed every detail away in the little pocket of his brain entirely dedicated to the beautiful man that could reach the top shelves.

“What’s next?” he asked an hour into their latest Target excursion.

Sirius tilted his phone to show the screen. “Sheets.”

“I still can’t believe you had a hole in those and didn’t notice,” Remus said with a shake of his head.

“How do you know it wasn’t your fault?” Sirius countered with a playful quirk of his eyebrow.

“I’m not the one that runs marathons in my sleep,” Remus laughed, standing on his toes to kiss his stubbly cheek. “Oof. Prickly.”

Sirius scrunched his nose. “You like it.”

“Hmm. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” he mimicked, bumping Remus’ hip with his own. “What kind do you want?”

Remus shrugged one shoulder as they turned down the next aisle, scanning the shelves of plastic-wrapped packages in a million different patterns. “I like the look of the white ones, but grey or blue could be nice. You?”

“As long as they’re soft and have you in them, I don’t care.”

“Sap,” he teased, though he was unable to fight the blush racing hot up his neck. Sirius didn’t protest; his small, smug smile needed no explanation. Remus pushed the cart slowly down the aisle, making note of the price tags as he went. Sheets were always an expense—not as bad as blankets or, god forbid, a new mattress, but an expense all the same. He had managed to keep his last ones in good condition for almost ten years before they wore out.

The $30 set doesn’t look too bad, but that’s a weird color…Sirius hates microfiber…I’d rather not sleep on puppy print…getting laid on a 1970s paisley pattern would kill me instantly… “How about these?”

He startled and glanced down the aisle, where Sirius was holding a set in faint gray. An unbidden grin pulled at the side of his mouth. “The softest of the bunch, huh?”

“Of course,” Sirius laughed. “Come feel, it’s like heaven.”

Remus pushed off and hopped up on the undercarriage, riding the cart all the way until he reached Sirius’ side; his hand was halfway to the exposed block of fabric when he froze. $186.99, read the price tag below the stack of sheets in varying colors. Almost $200, and the only difference was the softness. “I…” he faltered slightly, looking between Sirius and the sheets for a moment.

“Do you not like them?”

“No, I do,” Remus said as his mind whirred. He had never spent more than a hundred dollars on sheets before. It wasn’t wildly out his budget, especially once he started working with the Lions, but he had always been careful with money. Sirius…Sirius had never had to do that. Never in his life.

“Is it the color? Because they have white ones—”

“It’s 200 dollars,” he almost laughed. Sirius fell quiet in obvious confusion as Remus turned to look at him. “Sirius, those sheets are 200 dollars.”

“Yes?”

“There’s—” Remus broke off again; something a little too much like shame for his liking crawled up his throat. “I—sure, yeah, if you like them.”

“It’s not about what Ilike,” Sirius continued, as if he couldn’t see the discomfort tensing every one of Remus’ muscles. “It’s our bed. I don’t want to get sheets you hate.”

“No, no, they’re nice.” Too nice. Remus forced a smile. “I like them.”

Sirius looked at him for a moment. “Which ones do you prefer?”

The ones that don’t cost the same as my monthly food budget. “Uh, the color threw me off at first,” he said. “The blue ones are better.”

The crease between Sirius’ brows eased by a degree and he kissed Remus’ jaw gently, then switched the sets. “D’accord, mon loup. Whatever makes you happy.”

Remus was as quiet as he could be without arousing suspicion for the rest of the trip. Sirius paid for their things—like always, Remus realized with a turn of his stomach—and helped him carry the bags to the car without another word about the sheets.

He stayed quiet the whole way home.

The shame mounted as they drove. It seemed everything was a sudden, unwelcome reminder of just how different he and Sirius were. Sirius’ family had a chef during his childhood—Remus made himself PB&Js every morning for the entirety of middle school. Sirius had a brand-new car—Remus had never had cause to justify that over public transportation and Uber. It was embarrassing, and Sirius’ unintentional thoughtlessness was more frustrating than he thought it would be.

He didn’t say anything as they pulled up to the house and unloaded their shopping bags; his shirt and jeans itched his skin like sandpaper. Judging from the look on Sirius’ face, he had picked up on Remus’ frustration, but there was no way Remus was going to get into the root of it while he still felt so twitchy.

Damn you and your emotional intelligence, he thought as he slipped past Sirius’ worried glances and up the stairs to their bedroom. Be oblivious for once and let me get through this.

The bed was stripped bare—their duvet and pillows sat in a heap on top of the mattress. Remus thought back to the first night he had slept there, marveling at the cloudlike support on his achy lower back. He had chalked it up to the pure bliss that came with finally having what he really wanted, but his traitorous brain was starting to convince him it wasn’t the joy that made it seem so nice.

He had never gone without food. His parents always made sure he had clothes that mostly fit and the school supplies he needed. They paid for his hockey gear and the team dues until he was old enough to work part-time and start saving his own money; scholarships had always been of a quiet importance in their house. Things got tighter when Jules was born, but they made it work. Remus would always be grateful for that.

Sirius had never had to think about money in that way. Not once.

Remus sighed through his nose as he pulled his battered Wisconsin hoodie over his head and tightened the drawstring of his sweats, letting the comfort envelop him. “It’s not his fault,” he murmured into the mirror. “Don’t get into your head about this.”

Sirius was in the living room when Remus made his way down the stairs with his hands curled into the worn sleeves of the hoodie. He said nothing while Remus began absently cleaning up the scattered items around their junk bowl, though his gaze prickled the back of his neck.

“Mon loup?” came the soft question after two minutes of tense silence.

“Yeah?” he managed around the tightness in his lungs.

He could practically taste Sirius’ hesitation. “Did I—nevermind. Sorry.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing,” Sirius said again, though he seemed to be folding in on himself. Remus hated seeing him try and take up less space, and hated the idea that he was the one that caused it.

$200. On sheets.

“What’s going on?” Remus asked, leaning back against the countertop.

“No, I just—” Sirius pasted on a smile and cross the room, dropping a tentative kiss to the top of his head as he passed despite the wary look in his eyes. “Just a thought. It’s nothing.”

“You’re upset.”

“No, no, I’m good.”

“Please don’t lie to me.” It came out harsher than intended and Remus winced. “I mean—Sirius, something is obviously bothering you.”

He chewed the inside of his lip for a moment, rubbing his thumbs in small circles over the marble countertop before making brief eye contact. “You’re angry,” he said at last, cautiously. “Are you angry with me?”

“No,” Remus said, then paused. Sirius’ face fell. “Well, I’m a little irritated, but—but it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t be.”

“It’s not stupid.”

Remus swallowed hard at the kicked-puppy look on Sirius’ face. “It is.”

“I’m sorry,” Sirius said.

And that was…honestly, kind of the worst thing he could say. “You don’t get it,” Remus said, staring at the floor. “Sirius, you just spent 200 dollars on sheets.”

If anything, that seemed to upset him more. “You said you liked them.”

“I—” Remus flailed his hand around. “I do! But Jesus, honey, that’s kind of a lot!”

“We both liked the sheets.”

“I don’t know how to tell you that that’s expensive!” he blurted as the words wormed their way out and hung in the air. “Two hundred dollars might be peanuts to you, but that used to be my food budget for the month!”

“Remus—”

“You have never had to budget a day in your life,” he said, quieter. “Your watch probably cost more than a month’s rent for my apartment, you’ve never taken public transportation—”

“Remus—”

“—and you make millions of dollars every year!” He paused, out of breath, and ran a hand through his hair in disbelief. “Millions, Sirius. And—and now that we’re together, that we’re living together, it’s just really apparent in a way that it wasn’t before.”

Sirius’ throat bobbed. “I wish you had told me at the store.”

“It’s not about the sheets,” Remus laughed, because there was nothing else he could do other than cry. “We have entirely different views of how much money is worth. You can pay for things for me and I can’t do the same for you, and that feels like shit.”

An unsettling quiet blanketed the whole first floor as Sirius stayed very, very still, like a small animal caught in a trap. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he confessed, barely above a whisper. “You’re right. Money is…it’s not something I’ve had to think about, but I like spending it on you.”

“I don’t like being cared for,” Remus forced out around the grate that had been keeping it down. “I don’t like feeling like I can’t support myself, or that I’m a burden on you and especially that I can’t repay that.”

Sirius finally met his eyes, and he looked appalled. “Remus, you’re never a burden.”

“It feels like it.” He was horrified to feel the burn of tears in his eyes. “Sometimes. When—when you buy nice things for me, or we go on nice vacations, or even when you buy groceries for us for the fifth time in a row, it feels like I’m using you for your money.”

“But you’re not.”

“No!” Remus said immediately. “God, no, never. That’s the last thing I want. But I don’t want you to have to change your lifestyle to make it revolve around me, either. I feel like I’m caught in the middle and there’s no good answer.”

Sirius watched him for a moment, the way that always made Remus feel a little bit like a particularly intricate play he was trying to work out. “What did you want to say at the store?”

“I—what?”

“What did you want to say while we were getting the sheets?”

Remus bit his lip in thought. “Those are too expensive, and I think we should get different ones,” he said eventually. “I like the color and the fabric, but I don’t want to spend that much money on sheets when we could do something else with it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask sooner.” The earnest look on Sirius’ face eased some of the bubbling feelings in his chest. “And I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me.”

“I was embarrassed.”

“…why?”

“Because it’s embarrassing to look at your multi-millionaire boyfriend and say, ‘I can’t afford $200 sheets’, Sirius. It sucks. I feel like I can’t measure up.”

Sirius nodded. “I’ve never judged you for your money, not once. Just for the record. There’s nothing I would rather spend it on than making you happy.”

“I don’t want to be sheltered and provided for.” Remus blinked back the last of the tears and closed his eyes. “I want us to be equals. That’s important to me.”

“Okay.”

“And I don’t know how to fix this right away.”

“I don’t, either.” Warm fingers brushed the back of his hand and he leaned into Sirius without looking. “Can we try and figure it out, though? As a team?”

“Yes, captain,” he snorted, feeling Sirius’ soft huff on the top of his head. They stood silently for a few seconds before Remus let go of his tension with a slow exhale. “I don’t think a joint bank account is a good idea yet, but maybe we can start by alternating who buys groceries? Or something small like that. I don’t want to feel like this anymore, not with you. I love you too much.”

Sirius nuzzled into his hair for a moment before lips pressed against his temple. “How about we start by making the bed?”

The pressure on Remus’ chest eased. Making the bed was easy. They had the exact same method for it, a function of Sirius growing up with a militant mother and Remus’ aunts lovingly terrorizing him into learning how to do hospital corners. It was an olive branch that he could happily accept with a light squeeze around Sirius’ waist. Baby steps, he thought. We’ll deal with the big stuff when we’re better settled. He offered a half-smile to Sirius. “What are we waiting for?”

#remus lupin #sirius black #coops #sweater weather #lumosinlove #money talk #hurt/ comfort #angst #argument #sheets

219 notes · View notes

no-droids · 4 years

Text

Mercy, Sabotage, and Dead Space

(gif credit to @redwyyne-archive)

Part One of The Bet series

Pairing: Poe Dameron/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.7K

Summary:

1. No sex.

2. No touching yourself.

3. No orgasms.

Warnings/Tags: DUBCON/NONCON elements, fuckboy Poe (OOC), Enemies to Lovers, degradation/humiliation, mentions of oral sex, SMUUUTTTTTTTT also I’m not sorry for what I did but you’re not allowed to read if you’re gonna get mad at me okay byeeee

***

This.

This shit, right here.

If the question was ever, “What’s the stupidest fucking thing you’ve ever let Poe Dameron somehow talk you into doing?” then the answer is this stupid shit, right the fuck here. This is like. You remember that one game, Mercy? The one where you’d dig your nails in and twist arms and just needlessly inflict pain on each other as children until one of you cried uncle because someone somewhere once decided to turn torture into a matter of pride?

You always thought those games were fucking ridiculous. Who can hold their breath the longest, who can handle a lit deathstick against their flesh the longest, who can take the hardest punch—who cares? It’s child’s play. It’s self-inflicted agony for the sake of bragging rights and even as a youngling, you refused to fall for it.

But then you met… fucking Dameron.

You know those people that… they don’t just rub you the wrong way, but literally every single aspect about their personality is sandpaper against wet skin and your whole entire being feels chafed raw just by existing in their general vicinity for an extended period of time?

You’re… you’re not usually a competitive—much less aggressive person. You never have been. It’s just not part of your nature. If you ever excel at anything in life, it isn’t because of some secret, deep-seated desire to win or be better than anyone else. You just… do you. You do whatever you do, and if it’s good, it’s good. And if it’s bad, it’s good. Because at the end of the day at least it’s still you, and you’re okay with that.

But this?

This shit? Right here?

“This is fucking dumb,” you say, because you know it’s what you both must be thinking so you may as well just get it out in the open. “This is the dumbest fucking thing, Dameron. What are we doing? Why are we doing this?”

The grumpy, orange-jumpsuited figure sitting behind you just sighs heavily and slumps even further down in his bucket seat, as if it isn’t the first time you’ve tried asking this incredibly valid question (it totally is), bringing a palm down to thunk the top of the guidance controls between his legs in a quiet irritation you’re almost certain has everything to do with the very topic you’re trying to bring up.

“Because,” comes that infuriating drawl. You can only see his face from this angle by looking at his reflection in the transparisteel barrier directly in front of you, but even just imagining the way his mouth moves while he rounds out the words makes your jaw clench. “The coordinates we picked up were scrambled and this rendezvous could be going down at any one of thirty-six locat—?”

“No,” you interrupt him with a scowl, “not why I’ve been floating in dead space in this Maker-forsaken ship with you for eight fucking hours a day since… fuck, what’s today? Thursday? Friday? Nope, can’t be Friday, Friday’s our off-day. Thursday, then. …Thursday?” You shake your head. “Ugh, see? Time doesn’t exist when I’m not allowed to cum, life is like one never-ending nightmare.”

“Oh.” He takes a second to think about it in silence, the calloused tips of his fingers scratching the side of his face while he considers. It wouldn’t usually be as loud as it is right now. Maybe it’s the haunting quiet of space surrounding the ancient powered down hunk of metal you’re both stuck in, inadvertently isolating and amplifying the sound—or maybe it’s because your copilot’s jaw is currently covered in a thick, dark beard that you swear barely took his testosterone-overloaded ass a fucking week or two to grow, if that. Regardless, the dark bristles crunch loudly under his short fingernails and it takes you about a grand total of five whole uninterrupted seconds of the scraping sound to realize you’re grinding your teeth along with it. “Well,” he finally says, “that was your stupid idea.”

“Hmmmmmmmno,” you contest firmly, wiggling your elbow back to poke at his shin with your index finger once, twice, thrice, until he finally slaps your hand away in quiet irritation. To the misfortune of you both—and likely the other hundred or so pilots concurrently taking rotating shifts in these tandem x-wings in a glorified mass stakeout, the cockpit of this ship is just way too fucking small. Your arm is squeezed uncomfortably against machinery and electronics to get to him from this angle and a light slap isn’t going to stop you now that you’re here. “You—” (poke) “—have a superiority complex and decided to turn it into a competition, not—” (poke) “—me.”

“Oh, I have a superiority complex, okay,” he scowls and nods in vehement, fake agreement, finally giving up and letting you poke at will, but the appeal is lost as soon as you realize he’s over it and your arm eases back into your lap. You watch his reflection look out of the viewport and scan the empty void of space for the twentieth time in the past five minutes, clearly just as desperate to get back to base as you are. “So what is it you call saying—wait, no no, not even saying, loudly declaring—‘Of course I can go longer without sex than “wham bam thank you ma’am” Dameron, you brainless fucks, it’s a simple fact!’”

“Alright—I don’t sound like that, fuck you very much,” you return, in reference to his shrieking, high-pitched impression of you surrounded by your fellow pilots in the rec room when you’ve had a bit too much to drink. “Also, you don’t have to finger-quote literally every single syllable of my fucking sentence, Dameron. First and last word, that’s all it takes. And if it’s so superiority complex-ey of me to state simple facts, then what is it you call saying ‘betcha two weeks worth of pay you can’t, pretty baby’?”

“Uh, easy credits?” He immediately asks, side-eyeing your reflection through the transparisteel. “ Easy credits. Just begging for it. Two weeks of your slutty, sexy, easy fucking credits just begging to be taken and used— ”

“You need to get laid,” you cut in to tell him bluntly, scrunching your nose in what you hope looks like disgust. As per protocol, the power to the x-wing was cut at the beginning of your shift—what feels like a fucking eternity ago—as a preventative maneuver in case the target falls out of hyperspace unexpectedly. Avoiding the scanners of a fleet that may never actually show means it’s cold and dimly lit in here—just starlight in front of either you, but you’re hoping he can gauge the severity of your revulsion with your back to him. “You just turned my money into a sex object. It was vile. I feel violated on its behalf.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who needs to get laid,” he tosses carelessly back at you, and you roll your eyes with as much sass as you can physically muster, so tired of all the dodging. You know this hasn’t been easy for him either, he just has too much pride to admit it. “Besides, you’ve gotta be past the withdrawal stage by now. Is it really all that bad?”

“The fuck you mean, ‘Is it really all that bad’?” You snap at him, shuffling around grumpily in your seat, hating the way the bulky weapons controls sit right between your thighs and prevent you from closing them. Withdrawal stage, ha. “Of course it’s all that bad. It’s horrible. It’s the fucking worst. And more importantly, how are you not having any trouble with this? Oh, wait—that’s right,” you answer yourself before he has a chance to. “Because you cheated.”

“I did not cheat,” Dameron’s reflection immediately challenges with an accusatory finger pointed at you. “I did not. When the fuck did I cheat? I swapped housing assignments with your shitty roommate and slept in the bunk below yours for a month and a half—all because you don’t believe in the honor system—just so you could tell me I fucking cheated?”

You scoff, feeling your annoyance spark even more. He’s always been able to get under your skin, but the neglect you’ve been forcing your body to endure is just throwing gasoline on an already roaring fire. “Okay, first of all? Rude. I am a fucking joy to have as a roomie, alright? I put up with your snoring, your 2:00 AM dinners, you blasting your radio while I’m trying to sleep, I barely complain about your body odor—”

“My snoring is adorable, I get snacky at night, only sad people with fucked up lives hate music, I smell amazing,” Dameron casually lists off on his fingers, the self-confidence so easy and unshakeable that you swear he’s almost preening at the compliments he just gave himself by the time he’s finished rebutting everything you can think to throw at him. And, while you’d never admit it, he does smell good. He smells… unbelievably fucking good. Always. Something dark and woodsy, you can never quite put your finger on. It pisses you off, so much that you’ve made a habit of pulling a face of disgust whenever the warm, rich scent noticeably reaches you, hoping it deflates his ego just a little bit. No such luck so far.

“Whatever. The point is I’m a good fucking neighbor, alright, I’m neighborly as fuck,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “And don’t make it sound like I’m putting a chastity lock on your balls every night, because you can fuck anyone you want. In fact, I strongly fucking encourage it—I just want to know about it when it happens.”

Dameron smirks and you groan, already knowing what’s coming. “You wanna hear it?”

Yep, there it is. “Second of all—”

“Feel the whole bunk rock with it?” He goes on, completely ignoring you. “Use the excuse that you’re trapped up top so you can just stay there the whole time and listen? You know you can do a lot more than just—”

“Second of all,” you project over him, “you’re seriously telling me you haven’t had any wet dreams then, hm? No snorgasms? Hmmm? No happy naps? No captain midnights? No mattress fracking? Hmmmmmm???”

His voice very quickly sounds… shocked. “How many fucking euphemisms—?”

“Wait wait, one more—” you quickly interrupt, too much momentum to stop now, “—sleepskeet.”

You watch in immense satisfaction as his expression seems to progress through all five stages of grief, before he exhales a long, unamused sigh and scratches his beard again. You want to pluck each strand of it out of his face one by one. “Anyways. Wet dreams are totally different and don’t count.”

“It’s not different!” You burst out, unable to help yourself, “it’s an orgasm, and rule number three is no orgas—”

“I know what the rules were, Gold-Ten,” he returns calmly, and it infuriates you, how he’s always able to make it seem like you’re the instigator who’s overreacting. And he knows exactly what he’s doing by calling you by your flight designation, and it pisses you off even more because calling him Black-Leader in any other situation besides active warfare just feels like an unnecessary reminder of his skills. Why he’s currently behind you manning the guidance controls and why you’re currently stuck in the front seat with the bulkier weapons systems. “The question is if you’re seriously that bad enough of a sport to automatically disqualify me because of something that happens to any human with a dick indiscriminately when we blueball ourselves.”

“But that’s the entire fucking point, Dameron!” You shrill, throwing your hands in the air in pure exasperation. “There it is! You need it more than I do, you just said it yourself! Not to mention I said I can go longer without sex than you can— sex , not orgasms, but as it turns out I win at both. Now can we please call this shit off so I can finally cum? This isn’t fun anymore.”

“Nope,” he says immediately, popping the P with a bit too much hard emphasis to be genuinely amused. He’s frustrated, too—his voice is too pleased, too fake to not be masking irritation underneath. “Sorry. But this was also your stupid idea, so.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grumble, anger flaring equal to his, just way more… verbal. And descriptive. “Wet dreams don’t count, fucking right. Tell that to the oceans of Kamino I got going on down there, huh? I move on this seat wrong and I’ll slide off it—”

A loud slam of a palm against the controls suddenly echoes throughout the small cockpit, causing you to jump slightly.

“Don’t,” Dameron snarls, “... say shit like that to me. Not right now. Not right now, fuck .”

You go quiet for a moment, not expecting that much of an outburst at something you considered to be a throwaway remark, but then… oh. Something occurs to you, something… sinister. Oh, well, now there’s an idea.

Everything inside you immediately surges up and burns at the thought—the mere whisper of a way out of all of this, quickly, without giving in and letting him hold your surrender over you for Maker knows how long. It’s so fucking simple, you don’t know why you didn’t think of it before. You don’t have to wait him out at all; instead, you just need to… entice him into giving in first.

Neither of you say anything for a while, and you don’t know what he’s thinking (nothing, probably—a dry tumbleweed bouncing across an empty desert landscape, you imagine) but you take the dip in conversation to consider a plan. You can’t go at it too outright, it’ll be too big of a turnaround and he’ll see it coming lightyears away. A halfhearted joke about your pussy tossed out without thinking is what catalyzed the most substantial reaction from him you’ve seen, so… maybe you can keep steering the conversation towards the idea.

“How many wet dreams have you had?” You suddenly ask, your heart beginning to pick up in your chest as soon as the words are out of your mouth.

“Excuse me?” Dameron grunts from behind you, and you catch his reflection raising a thick eyebrow at you.

You take a deep breath and disguise it by stretching your back out just a little bit, lifting your shoulder blades and arching the sore muscles there, before settling back down in your normal crappy posture once more. “Now many times did you cum in your sleep? Had to at least been once for you to claim they don’t count.”

“Why does it matter?” He asks, completely sidestepping the question for the second time. “It was involuntary.”

You shrug. “Just so I know how many freebies I can get tonight.”

“No,” Dameron instantly counters, his voice dead serious. “Not fucking allowed.”

“Why not?” You ask, and this time, there’s significantly less challenge than you’d typically deliver it with. Instead, your voice is soft, questioning. Not argumentative, but curious, and there’s just enough of your point left unsaid that it’ll seem like he conjured the rest of the image himself.

There’s silence while he considers his response to the perfectly executed bait. You assume you’re both picturing the same thing, because it’s what you’ve pictured almost every single night spent in this celibate hellscape. The cool darkness of your shared quarters, the standard-issue sheets that still feel crispy and rough on your skin no matter how many nights you’ve slept in them, with one of your hands pressed tight over your mouth and two of your fingers circle your clit.

“You only get to do it if I’m in the room,” he poses instead, and you swallow thickly, feeling your body tighten with an unintentional drop of pure heat through your tummy at the thought. Maker, it must be really bad if Poe fucking Dameron is getting to you like this. The bane of your existence shouldn’t make your insides twist in on themselves—at least, not in a good way.

“Not like I’d have much choice,” you eventually respond, keeping it purposefully ambiguous. “It’s your room, too. Unfortunately.”

Stars, it’s been so long since you’ve done this, since you’ve walked the fine line between flirtation and seduction, wanting to turn on the charm slowly—gradually ease it up like a hyperdrive lever under your fingertips so that you’re at maximum by the time he realizes you’re even there. You take a moment to glance at his reflection, watching Dameron look back at you curiously, a flash of interest in his eyes.

“By the way, how does that one girl feel about us doing this?” You ask out of nowhere, suddenly remembering the existence of his pretty little number. You’ve seen her under his arm around base at least a few times, which is more than you can say for the rest of them. “Red-Six. Tall brunette with the tattoos—I don’t bother learning names, they all come and go.”

“Nihla,” Dameron nods with a wistful sigh, tilting his head to rest against his shoulder. “Or, wait… Neah. No—it was… Nalal. Yeah, Nalal, I think that’s right…”

“Unbelievable,” you mutter. “One of the greatest mysteries of the universe is how many people get in line for you, I’ll never fucking understand it.”

“They just want me for my cock,” he tells you without missing a single beat, sounding like he’s not joking in the slightest. “It was starting to get obnoxious. Glad I finally have an excuse to turn them down.”

“Unbelievable,” you repeat, stunned by how truly, mind-blowingly full of himself he is. “You’re… fucking…”

You end up just staring at him and making a sound somewhere between a laugh and a scoff, at a complete loss for words, and Dameron eventually shrugs and continues on after you fail to form a coherent thought in the allotted time frame he provides.

“Now I can just tell them I’m in a long-running bet with Gold-Ten over who can sexually deprive themselves the longest and weirdly enough, they don’t seem all that interested anymore,” he remarks, tilting his chin up and rubbing at his beard again, and for some reason… the sound of it bothers you somewhat less now, the way he phrased that resonating deeper inside you than it should. Lower than it should. You blink a few times, almost shocked by your body’s unprecedented response to his admission—Poe Dameron uses you as an excuse to turn down sex with pretty girls? Happily?—and your mind goes blank for a second while he watches you through the transparisteel. “It’s alright,” he eventually goes on, tilting his head. “Sometimes a sabbatical is good. I do really miss pussy, though.”

“Well,” you finally tell him, oddly not having much else to offer at the moment. “I’m sorry? And… you’re welcome. I guess.”

Dameron shrugs once more and makes an apathetic sound without opening his mouth, and you drop your stare down to the machinery between your spread thighs after feeling like you were looking at each other for too long. The position started uncomfortable and seven hours later, it’s still fucking uncomfortable. At first the discomfort twinged at your hips and lower back, but now the sensation seems to be… centering itself a bit more, finding a spot right between your legs, especially when his words echo through your subconscious and make you naturally want to push your thighs together. I do really miss pussy, though.

You try to snap out of it a bit, try to stop hyperfixating on the way your underwear has felt sticky and wet for fucking hours now, but it’s so fucking difficult to chill yourself out when your body already went into this whole situation with a month and a half long stumbling block. He’s not really doing anything at all—he’s leant back in his chair and staring out the window into the black emptiness of space when you steal a look once more, but something about how his casual responses are affecting you makes it seem like he’s the one currently seducing you.

Maker, you have to focus. You have to control yourself. You’re starting to feel a little warm in your thick jumpsuit—a particular shade of orange that does not compliment your complexion but you normally rejoice in wearing regardless. It’s baggy and uniform and hides most of your curves and most importantly, it keeps you toasty on missions like this. Space is cold —especially this far out in the Cauper Void, and there’s no fucking reason this powered down hunk of floating metal should feel as muggy and stifling as it does in here.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you suddenly hear yourself say, spontaneously, no thought put into it whatsoever. One last try, one last attempt to avoid it, a last-ditch go at flight before he gives you no choice and you’re left with this one remaining option. “This isn’t a good idea. It’s… not healthy. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

This gets a small chuckle out of him. “I know you don’t, pretty baby.”

“Then let’s just call the whole thing off,” you propose once again, trying to lighten your tone, make it a… a friendly thing. It sounds so fake, even to your own ears—since when would you be desperate enough to let the dreaded petname slide?—but granted, you know what they say about time and measures and all that shit. “We can call it a tie, just go back to the way things were befo—”

He cuts you off and pins you with his gaze through the reflection. “You realize that you begging me to put an end to your suffering is—ridiculously hot, mostly—but also only an incentive to make me keep pushing until you finally give in?”

You groan and comb some of your hair off your forehead, not liking the way it’s getting just the slightest bit damp. “Fine, we won’t call it off, but can we at least just stop—” You immediately catch yourself, not wanting to unintentionally push this too far too quickly, but your hesitation is clear and compelling enough for him to prompt you.

“At least just stop what?” Dameron asks, and though you don’t think it’s intentional or even noticeable from his perspective, something about the way his voice sounds… husky. Low to the ground.

“Stop dragging it out,” you breathe, your heart pounding. Why is your heart pounding so fucking fast? This is a fucking sting op, a facade, so why are you getting so caught up in the lie you’ve spun for yourself? “Finish it. Sooner, rather than later. Quit being masochists about it, just fucking put it to—”

Maker, your eyes instinctively snap to his at your poor choice of wording, having almost said bed on complete accident. Genuinely, you didn’t mean to phrase it that way, but at the same time, the thought of it almost burns you alive. Fuck. Dameron, and you, in bed. It could be mean. It could be rough. A fight for dominance more than anything. He’s bigger than you and he could make it fucking hurt, especially after going without it for as long as you have, but something about how double-edged that type of relief would be isn’t really sinking in for you right now. Like a person slowly dying of thirst that’s fantasizing about drowning. Regardless, the idea of a night with him and the sudden assortment of vivid imagery it provides is enough to get you to shut up and take a deep breath, just wait with your mouth shut for whatever his response is.

Unfortunately, you don’t have to wait long at all.

“This is cute,” he suddenly tells you, and you jerk back and sputter a bunch of consonants stupidly like he smacked you.

“Fuck you?” Are the first recognizable words that can be heard. “I’m not—this isn’t fucking— cute?”

“It’s cute,” Dameron repeats, hiding a soft smile from you with a few of his fingers pressed to his lips. “You,” he says as he points at your reflection, twirling his finger around in circles, “trying to be all sneaky about it, go about your little performance. It’s like… watching a little kid just blatantly fuck up a magic trick but they’re naive enough to think it’s working. Keep going, I’m enthralled.”

You hold still for just a second as ice suddenly sinks through your tummy and clears away any trace of warmth you may have once felt from before. Of course. Stupid. Stupid, you shouldn’t have even tried something like that, you don’t know why you thought…

Horrifyingly, you go dead silent and the lack of an immediate response from you hangs awkwardly in the still air. You’re usually so quick with him, so fiery, letting the things he throws at you just glide right off you, but for some insane reason, you’re actually fucking… embarrassed? A little bit?

You should say something, but your whole body is just frustratingly blank, almost buzzing in mortification, and it gets worse and worse the longer you stay quiet. You don’t usually put yourself in a position to be compromised, and you certainly didn’t think the place he decided to jab this time had particularly thin skin.

You… you’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone laugh at you when you’re genuinely trying your best to flirt.

Well, it’s too late to say anything now, you think. Now it’s just uncomfortable in here—true discomfort, not the typical angry silences. You’re used to that, you’re used to huffing and crossing your arms and ticking your jaw through the breaks in conversation, refusing to say a word because you’re beyond pissed off. This is different. This quiet sits different in the air, this emotion hits different in your chest, somewhere vulnerable. A crack in your armor he found without even necessarily intending to, but at this point, the stupid way you can’t seem to hide the wound from him is just as much to blame.

“So, uh…” Dameron clears his throat as you shut your eyes tight against the awkwardness, but you can still feel a strange little shift in the air from behind you. There’s something about the enclosed space, the quiet darkness surrounding you both, you feel… too close to him. Sharing his air, feeling the energy when it’s cramped and you’re not able to just get up and storm away from him like normal. You don’t like it. You don’t like that you can immediately tell something has changed without being able to see him, that type of intimacy between you is pushing a boundary you can’t quite pinpoint but know exists.

You snap your eyes open and look over at Dameron’s reflection when he’s quiet for too long, and though you try to glare as fiercely as possible at him while you do it, the look on his face almost stops you dead. The pure intensity raging in his expression, the way he’s got his eyes narrowed, flicking back and forth between yours, carefully studying you, wondering if perhaps he may have gotten it all wrong. “I mean, y’know. Theoretically speaking, and all. If I broke, you’d let me fuck you?”

You… aren’t expecting that.

You don’t know why but your heart suddenly starts to race again, but it’s not the same as before. Before it was speeding up and at an angle, like a rocket trying to escape a body’s gravitational pull, to go somewhere, search for something. This time it just feels like it’s ricketing downhill, unsteady and out of control, about to break apart with every single pothole that rattles and slams through you. Shit. You didn’t expect the ultimatum would be presented to you so up front like that—you thought there’d be… some resistance, at least.

Fuck, you take way too fucking long thinking about it, and your face feels warmer and warmer the more you mentally pick apart his specific phrasing, wondering where you should even begin. You still haven’t said anything, but the damage is already done. What should've been a firm, instantaneous go fuck yourself is left suspended, unanswered, open for interpretation. You miss your window of opportunity to shut him down, you overshoot it by a longshot, and then you feel that spark of a what-if flare deep down once more.

No, fucking stop it. Stop it. Maker, your eyes do everything they can to not look at him while you concentrate and work to tap into your anger, stoking the flames of your fire to avoid feeling… temptation. How dare he? How fucking dare he do this to you, especially when there’s no chance to get out of here, to abort mission and cut your losses? You clench your jaw and isolate that fury, magnify it until it’s the only thing you can feel anymore.

“My turn now,” Dameron eventually breaks the silence to clarify, blinking at you, and by this point you’re so fucking pissed off that you don’t recognize that isn’t actually a question.

“No,” you immediately snap, strung far too thin to deal with this new, treacherous territory with him. Defaulting to normal is best, it’s easier. “No, it’s not your turn, and fuck no, you can’t fuck me, not even if it means I win this stupid bet. No to everything that has anything to fucking do with you, alright? Don’t talk to me. You’re lucky if I agree to sleep in the same fucking room as you tonight. And—and?—I think your beard looks dumb.”

Okay, so maybe the last part was just a little bit childish, but you’re in such a bad fucking mood and you want to insult something he’s clearly just trying out for right now, hasn’t yet solidified as part of his usual appearance and unshakeable confidence in it. It’s a downright lie—you think he might look more attractive with it than he ever has. Effortlessly rugged and masculine, framing his face and making his eyes all the more piercing.

You don’t think it works, but regardless, he heeds your sharp words and says nothing for a good few minutes at least. You had hoped the break in interaction would allow you the ability to reset a little bit, give yourself time to work through it, but it’s like the pressure in the air steadily increases regardless of how silent it is in here—or perhaps, because of it.

You can’t help it. You flick your eyes to the transparisteel in front of you once more and catch his reflection staring directly at you, unmoving. It jars you as much as it sparks your anger, and you glare down at your hands and give him a few seconds. A few seconds of grace, of mercy, before you try again.

Sure enough, he’s still got his dark eyes pinned to you when you go to check once more, like he’s actually fucking thinking about something right now, which is just… astounding, for obvious reasons. Mainly, the nerve of him. The fucking nerve of him to be able to look at you like that, like he’s just entitled to study your every feature, searching your eyes for things you’ve never looked deep enough to find within yourself, making incredibly loud assumptions with his mind that he has absolutely no right to be making.

“Shut up,” You snap at him defensively, feeling like you’re sweating buckets even in the freezing emptiness of dead space. You can’t figure out if it’s a cold sweat or if your body is legitimately just malfunctioning under his stare. “Shut up.”

You watch as his reflection suddenly drops his head back against the seat and rolls out the stiffness of his neck, blinking his eyes shut and raising his eyebrows like you’re completely overreacting, like he has absolutely no idea. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re not that dumb,” you challenge. “You’re… plotting. Evil plotting.”

A thick eyebrow drops so that only one is quirked up, and a grin pulls at his lips.

“You’re right,” Dameron admits casually after a moment with his eyes still closed, his voice pitched low in the cramped ship. “I was thinking about what it’s gonna take to get you to lose.”

You swallow against the dryness in your throat, starting to unintentionally bounce one of your legs up and down without even realizing it. Fuck, this ship is small, it’s too fucking small in here—you gaze wistfully out at the vast endlessness of space, wanting to grit your teeth at the irony of being surrounded by the one thing you so desperately wish you had.

“I just have to find a weakness,” he shifts forward in his seat and reveals to you, bewilderingly shameless in his honesty. Like all of a sudden you’re an accomplice to this endeavor instead of its target, as if he isn’t spoiling the secret by letting you in on it. “Something that you like, that gets you going. Something that riles you up, gets you all hot and bothered down there—”

“So you can exploit it,” you huff, slouching over a bit and trying not to sound like you’re pouting.

“—so I can exploit it,” he finishes happily, collapsing back into his seat like he’s glad you caught on so quick and he doesn’t have to explain further. “Now we can do the whole routine—the bickering, the tension, the undeniable sexual chemistry we have—or we can skip all that and you can just tell me flat out what it’s gonna take to rev that pretty little engine up, because I want it purring.”

And, it’s so fucking weird, because the specific verbiage that would normally make you cringe just hearing it spoken aloud doesn’t inspire the typical response, even though it feels like it should. It feels like you should be grossed out, it feels like a moment you should screw up your facial expression and act offended, but you’re… not. This is actually fucking working, it’s unbelievable. The undeniable fact infuriates you just as much as it stumps you.

“You do realize that everything you say is a game that two can play at, right?” You point out, not really sure where you’re going with this but feeling heated about it all the same. “What’s stopping me from exploiting something you like?”

“See now that’s a great idea,” Dameron announces, clapping his hands together happily and sending you jumping a few inches in your seat at the sudden sound, your hand automatically shooting up to rest on your thumping heart. “I can tell you what I like, and you can just listen.”

Alright, no, wait—backtrack—

“How about I tell you what I don’t like,” you snip breathlessly, tucking your hair behind your ear and feeling all the blood rush to your cheeks. Default to normal, default to normal. “Your fucking attitude. Your demeanor. The way you talk down to me. You don’t listen. You walk around like you’re such hot shit just because you’re a good pilot but none of that means anything when you don’t ever fucking listen. You’re terrible at it, doesn’t matter who’s talking—you don’t listen to me, you don’t listen to people who actually like you, you don’t listen to orders, you don’t listen to reason—”

“You think I’m a good pilot?” He suddenly asks, and you have to take a second. This cockpit isn’t designed for anything other than sitting, much less turning all the way around, but you’re sure you can find some way to throttle him from here. He chuckles as you let out the loudest sigh you’ve ever heard yourself make—which, is an incredible feat you think both of you should be congratulated for—before Dameron eventually carries on. “You could tell me that,” he admits with a shrug, a hidden smile on his face that he’s trying to bite back. “Or you could tell me the truth.”

You shouldn’t encourage him, but you just can’t fucking help it. There’s something inside you, something you can only compare to a morbid sort of curiosity. Maybe you’re just a glutton for punishment, even more so than agreeing to this bet has already confirmed. “And that would be—?”

“That you use anger as a defense mechanism because I touch a nerve you didn’t realize you had,” Dameron replies breezily. “Have since the moment we met. And that you maybe want me to touch something else, but you’re too stubborn and proud and committed to hating me to ever admit it. You can admit it, it’s okay, I can touch whatever you need me to tou—”

“How about the emergency eject button?” You hiss, finally feeling your frustration peak. “Pop the top on this bitch. Put me out of my fucking misery, right now. You’ve got such a big head that the blood flow will probably keep your tiny little brain warm enough as long as you strap yourself down beforehand, I’ll wait. And then you can go back to base, alone , and find another poor girl to emotionally torture since you probably don’t get enough of it from the ones you work your way through but can never remember the most basic things about.”

Remarkably, that actually shuts him up. You’re doubtful the jab really hurts him, but you’re not going to feel bad about it either way. He deserved that. You cross your arms over your chest and don’t even bother looking at him, huffing and flushed with the climax of your ferocity, now left feeling strangely exhausted in its wake. Eventually your breathing evens out and disappears into the silence, until nothing at all can be heard.

It’s like that for a moment—only a moment, before the loud tearing of velcro suddenly shreds through the quiet in the cockpit, completely rattling you. Automatically your eyes shoot over to his reflection, watching large hands pull the orange jumpsuit apart at his chest and then shrug it over broad shoulders. It’s not sexual. It can’t be sexual, because there’s just no fucking room to allow it—it takes him forever to pull the long sleeves down his arms, but the way he drags it out somehow just increases your anticipation for an event you should have absolutely no interest in spectating. He’s wearing a white sleeveless undershirt underneath and the jumpsuit bunches at his waist, making him look all the longer and more defined as he finally collapses back into his seat and reclines in it, the distant constellations bathing his lean torso in dim speckles of starlight.

Your gaze catches on every good part of him—it falls down the muscular lines of his neck and follows the thin gold chain wrapped around it, disappearing into the white of his scooping neckline. His toned body finds a place to rest and stretch out without looking awkward or uncomfortable, coarse hair darkening his jaw and dusting the strong lines of his forearms—but it’s his eyes that make your heart stutter. They’re endlessly deep and dark and knowing , and you can’t seem to look away from him, not even when he opens his mouth to address you.

“You’re always so fucking mean to me,” Dameron remarks, and for just a split second—just a split second, you feel a stab of regret. “I should eat you out tonight.”

Fuck, he hits the nail right on the head on his very first try, and just hearing the words come out of his mouth so effortlessly makes your pussy clench in on itself in need. Nothing about his inflection changed from one sentence to the next, nothing in his voice made it seem like he just flipped the fucking galaxy upside down with just a few words. To an onlooker who doesn’t speak Basic, they’d have absolutely no hint as to why your face is suddenly radiating heat at an industrial capacity, blazing hot enough to warm the whole cockpit. You feel like you’re literally burning up with it. You have to put a palm to your cheek to make sure it’s not actually on fucking fire. “What— what did you just say to me?”

“That’s what you need,” he drawls, unbothered by the sharpness of your tone. “What you’ve needed, ever since I can remember. Should’ve done it a long fucking time ago, now that I’m thinking about it. How long’s it been? Tell me the truth, I know it’s been awhile.”

You feel like you’re being roasted alive like one of those hairy little Kowakian monkey-lizards that you’re pretty sure have sentient designation but are the first to be skewered and cooked over the firepit regardless. Your heart is slamming against your sternum and you scramble to come up with an even slightly clever response after such an ambush.

“This is your plan?” You raise an eyebrow at him, feeling a bead of sweat drop down your temple and onto the corner of your lashes. Oh fuck, be cool, be cool. “You think this is gonna work? Ask me if I want a weak orgasm and rugburn on my thighs?”

“I can shave,” Dameron proposes quietly, lifting his chin and gently scrubbing the side of his cheek. The sound of the thick bristles against his fingers makes you swallow thickly and push back very vivid thoughts of how his face would feel between your legs. How soft and wet his mouth would feel at the center of that thick, coarse beard. “Tonight, I’ll shave it off. Make it nice and smooth for you.”

Something inside you surges up to assure him he absolutely should not shave, and you actually have to bite your tongue to keep it buried at the last second. Stars, that was a close one, what the fuck prompted that?

“I don’t give a shit what you do,” you quickly return, resisting the urge to wipe your brow. “Beard or no beard, makes no difference. Foreplay is overrated, I’m not big on wasting time.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” he immediately laments—so quick , and the worst part is that the sympathy in his voice actually sounds sincere. You’re having trouble looking him in the eyes right now, hearing the genuine pity come through in his tone. “Who… who did this to you?”

“You said you want to figure out what I like, what turns me on,” you return, tucking your hair behind your ear once more and trying not to sound self-conscious. Maker, how long until your shift is over? You need to get out of here, this shit is… way out of your league. “I’m not into it, so try again.”

“Really?” Dameron takes a moment to look at you, furrow his thick eyebrows at you in barely concealed curiosity, before his head tilts sideways and drops to his shoulder. “Normally I’d respect that, but I meant it when I said you need it.”

“We fucking hate each other, Dameron,” you hiss, a reminder to him as much as it is to yourself. Fuck, you really don’t like where this is going. “You don’t know anything about me, you don’t know what the I n—”

“I bet you think we’d fuck hard,” he murmurs, low enough that you have to take an unsteady breath and physically brace yourself for whatever is going to come from that dirty mouth next. “You think that maybe I’d throw you around a little, give it to you from behind, teach you a fucking lesson for always talking back to me. But that’s primitive shit, Gold-Ten, that’s not for you.”

Resist. Resist . You’re part of the fucking Resistance, for Maker’s sake, you’re taught to hold out until death in torture scenarios. Since when did this tin can suddenly become a new POW camp simulation you have to train for?

“I want to take you apart so slow that you can’t talk at all,” Dameron continues quietly, and you close your eyes, biting your bottom lip hard enough to sting. “We don’t even have to fuck—I mean, I want to, but mostly I just want to taste you. Go nice and slow. I want you on your back, so I can look in your eyes and see all that anger just… fade away. I want to watch you try to fight how fucking good I’ll make it. How hot it’s gonna be when you can’t glare at me anymore, when your pretty doll eyes go all soft and sweet and you finally realize that I’ve never hated you at all.”

Maker. This is a trick. It’s not a question, it shouldn’t be presented like one—this is a dirty rotten trick , and you’re not gonna fall for it. You can’t fucking fall for it. It’s a low blow, and you refuse to even acknowledge he said anything at all. He’s lying to get your guard down. He laughed at your flirting. He’s a shit person, he’s using you, this isn’t real.

Real or not, you still gulp loud enough for him to hear it.

“We could go back to our room after our shift is over,” he offers out of the blue, and you have no clue why, but when he pauses and lets it hang in the air for a second, you don’t interrupt him. You stay completely silent while he waits for you, waits for your typical snarky comeback. You have it in your head instantly, you know what you’d normally say. Your room. It’s not ‘our’ room, it’s fucking your room that you’re generous enough to let him bunk in, a privilege he’s this fucking close to losing—but you can’t find it in yourself to say it right now. Your anger is gradually losing the war to your arousal and you’re forced to watch every single small defeat inside you happen from the sidelines.

His reflection blinks at you through the transparisteel, his eyebrows raising just slightly at your prolonged silence, before he suddenly sits up a little and leans forward.

“And I could lock the door,” Dameron continues, lowering his voice, both in volume and register. “The lights in there are way too fucking bright but I don’t want to be in complete darkness, so maybe we can turn them off and open the port shade, let just enough light come through to see. I could turn on the radio, find something quiet, easy to listen to. Something you like, I’ll let you pick it out. And then… Wait, hang on, which bed?”

You clench your jaw and purposefully say nothing even as your pussy squeezes, glaring right through his reflection into the black void of space.

“Mmm. Your bed,” he eventually decides. “I want you comfortable. You shower at night. Your hair will be wet and you’ll be in those baggy pajamas that you think I can’t see your nipples through, the ones that I know you take off under your covers and then put on in the morning when you think I’m still asleep. That’s good, I want you relaxed, so that maybe… maybe you’d let me take your panties off at some point. And you could lay back and open your legs, and I could go down on you for a little while. However long you need.”

Fuck.

No, this isn’t fucking happening. Your lower muscles aren’t twisting in so hard that it actually fucking hurts, your pussy isn’t leaking through two layers of fabric under your jumpsuit, your body isn’t outright revolting against the sheer neglect you’ve put it through. Maker, it’s fucking painful. You have to clench your hands into fists and dig your fingernails into your palms before you can open your mouth.

“You want to know what I need?” You nearly wheeze, a drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck this time. Your body feels like it’s three sizes too big for this cockpit and your skin feels like it’s three sizes too small for your body. “I need you to shut the fuck u—”

“What you need,” Dameron purrs, sliding up closer behind your seat and sighing soft against the worn material of your headrest, “is a warm mouth to cum in. Don’t be shy, pretty baby, you can tell me.”

You growl out his last name as threateningly as you possibly can before he purrs yours right back in your ear, and fuck, you’ve never heard it sound so sexual before. Last names allow pilots to maintain a respectful distance from each other. Flight designations are Resistance-wide, but last names are just… allies. Not friends, not companions, but a vast network of people brought together by a common enemy. It hurts to lose a first name. But the way yours sounds rolling off of Dameron’s tongue is just too sinful, too intimate when calling you that is meant to sever intimacy by design. He says it slow and makes it dirty, muddies it in the back of his throat as he slides up even closer to you, until his face is right next to yours as you stare at each other through the transparisteel.

“I’m really…” he pauses, before exhaling through his nose and swallowing thick enough to make his Adam’s apple drop and bounce up again, his tongue coming out to wet his plush lips as he blinks slowly at you with a heavy gaze, “… really good at it. Call me Poe and I’ll do it for you all night.”

Shit, your pussy is just a fucking mess right now. It feels like it’s melting sweet and syrupy all over your thighs, throbbing and pounding and clamping up and screaming at you to do something, at least press your hand down there to alleviate some of the aching tensi—

No— stars, no touching yourself is rule number two. You drop your hands to your thighs and squeeze them, trying to reign yourself back in.

“I think you’re—just projecting,” you try, but turns out responding in general is just an all-around bad idea. Nothing about it comes out right. The ‘just’ sounds like your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth and your voice cracks on the word ‘projecting,’ but you don’t even have time to be self-conscious or embarrassed at how much you’re giving yourself away—all your energy has to go towards fighting the tightness between your open legs, how you’re so fucking turned on that you’re worried you’ll cum without even touching yourself. Oh Maker, can you imagine? How fucking proud of himself he’d be? You can’t let that happen, but fuck, holding back something so appealing is so much harder than it sounds.

Tap into that anger, tap into that anger—only, you can’t suddenly find it. Where’d it go? Fuck, doesn’t matter, conjure it. Quick, before it’s too late, get mad —don’t let him lure you into a… a false…

Dameron tilts his chin down towards the line of your shoulder and then slowly turns his head towards your neck, breathing you in gently.

A false sense of…

His soft exhale makes goosebumps break out all the way down your arms.

… What?

“Maybe you’re right,” Dameron acknowledges, talking just under your ear. You watch his eyelids dip and the dark beard brushes against your skin and you catch just a hint of that woodsy, spicy scent engulfing you. Like… teakwood, maybe? Stars, you don’t know, you think you’re starting to lose your mind. What the fuck does teakwood even smell like? “Maybe it’s just what I need. You should exploit it, chances are I’ll still cum first.”

That rockets another painful spasm down low. It hurts so fucking bad—fuck, maybe you could… rub yourself up against these weapons controls? Just a little bit? That joystick, right there, just ease yourself up against it just to nurse this wound a little bit…?

No, fucking— bad. That’s bad, you have to stop—

“This isn’t real, this isn’t—y-you just…” You flutter your eyelashes shut, digging your fingernails into your thighs like it’ll help break through the fog of his lulling voice, how fucking amazing he smells right now. “You just want to win th-the b—”

“ Fuck the bet,” he tells you quietly, his head dipped low enough now that his lips brush against your neck, and you shudder so hard at the sensation that your shoulder almost knocks into his chin with it. “You really think I’m doing all this for a fucking bet?”

Don’t trust him, don’t trust him, don’t—

Your deep breath is so stuttery and uneven that it’s technically just a series of shallow inhales all anxiously strung together, too desperate for oxygen to go about it legato. It’s painfully obvious to him by now, it has to be, but you very quickly miss the shaky breathing as soon as he takes away your ability to do it all together.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers, his voice almost breaking with how gentle it is, how it sounds like it flips in and out of his register when he speaks this low. “Right now, let’s make it real, let m—I know you have to be soaking fucking wet, baby, just let me try a little bit of it, please—I’m… holy shit, I’m so hard just thinking about it.”

“You c-can’t,” you stammer, reaching up to pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. At him, at the situation, at the painful throb of emptiness between your legs. “Fuck, it’s not allowed, it’s against the rules—”

“It won’t be,” he assures you, and you hiccup when you suddenly feel his hand brush against your side, strong fingers branching out to curve against your ribcage. “You don’t have to do anything, you can stay just like this. Just a few seconds and then I’ll stop, I promise.”

Oh, Maker, it’s on the very top of your tongue, so unbelievably close to telling him something—but you don’t know what it should be. You’re right at the tipping point, on a tightrope right between what you want and what you should want. And, knowing you’re this close to giving in, Dameron slowly eases his hand down your side and starts to trail it inwards, and just the lightest brush of his warm tongue against your neck shatters any composure you have left.

You whimper and instinctively try to close your legs, but you fucking can’t— your knees are forced wide apart by controls and your whole body freezes when his hand slides down and folds gently along the curve of your pussy through the thick fabric of your jumpsuit.

The feeling of being held like this by him is just too good , cradled so perfectly in his palm as he opens his mouth and flutters his tongue out to taste your skin again, giving you a little more of it this time and letting you feel the roughness of his beard with the way his lips move. Your breath catches, then he hooks his fingertips up just the slightest bit and pulls back, and you suddenly have to smack your whole hand over your face in a terrible attempt to stifle your loud gasp.

“Oh, Maker, I c-can’t,” you stammer against your fingers, not being able to trust him or your own body. You continue to protest even after he moves back up, resting his palm low on your abdomen, letting the heat bleed through the fabric and transfer directly to your floor muscles as he lifts his head up from your shoulder. “I can’t, we can’t, I…”

You can’t see him, but you know he’s looking at you. He’s staring right at you through the reflection, studying the way you’re hiding your face from him, how you’re still melting, still losing your composure just from the warm palm pressed tight your tummy.

His touch leaves you for a second. But then the deafening sound of velcro ripping at the crotch of your jumpsuit has you dragging your hand down your mouth and your eyelids dipping.

“Dameron,” you breathe into your fingers, just as his carefully slip into the small opening and begin to work at the button to your pants. “Dameron, this isn’t—you don’t want—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I don’t want,” he grunts at you, and you try not to bite yourself at the sound of him unzipping things and yanking fabric to the side. “What I really fucking want is the real thing, but I guess this’ll have to do for now.”

“I—” Your mind whirs desperately, trying to process when his fingers wedge under your panties and down. But he doesn’t give you a single fucking second. As soon as the tip of his middle finger reaches your slit, he’s dropping it and sliding it through your slick, hot, unbearably neglected cunt.

“Fuck,” he spits, and you feel like you might be about to break your own fucking jaw with how hard you’re clutching it, trying so desperately not to make a noise. The pad of his finger is rough and calloused as it drags against your clit in slow, tight circles, and you clamp your eyes shut and try to breathe normally, but it’s no use. Fuck , it’s been so long . You’ve been aching for it for a full fucking month and a half now and you know that even if he couldn’t feel it, he can hear how drenched you are right now. It’s making an obscene sound as he steadily masturbates you with one heavenly finger, giving your body what it’s desperately craved for so many weeks. “Fuck, baby’s pussy got fucking wet hearing me talk about how good I’d lick it, huh?”

That sends a bright flare launching through you and you gasp raggedly, both hands whipping out to snatch at his forearm where it disappears between your legs. “No, shit, wait, stopstopstopstop stop , I—”

His hand slips out immediately and yet you continue to tremble like his finger is still right there, like your clit is just imagining it so vividly that it’s successfully convincing itself of the illusion. The aching bit of flesh is burning, that good burn, the one that’s searing and bright that makes your muscles continue to chase the sensation long after the stimulation is gone. Fuck, he almost made you cum. He barely touched you for a few seconds and yet your fingers have to tighten into claws to slow your body down the fuck down, flexing against your thighs and trying your best to halt the impending climax.

By the time you’re able to wrangle yourself back from the edge and look at his reflection, his middle finger is already in his mouth and he’s blinking slowly at you, his pupils blown wide. You’re breathing hard at him, staring open-mouthed at the way his lips are closed below his second knuckle, how he takes forever dragging it back out again. You have to close your eyes. You have to clamp them shut and keep them that way, knowing you won’t be able to look at him through whatever he’s going to say next.

Except, oddly, he doesn’t say much.

“Shit,” he breathes, dropping his mouth to your neck once more. “Shhhit. I…”

Your eyes snap open in sudden, blind panic when he doesn’t continue, horrified at the possibility that he doesn’t like it. Dameron always has something to say, he doesn’t go speechless. “Oh—Maker, is it not—?”

“Mmmfuck, just—” he grits, panting hot air against your skin, “—fuck. Give me a second.”

You can only see the crown of his head with the way he’s angled, but you can see his shoulders a little further back. They start… moving slightly. Just the littlest bit, a smooth motion, like his whole body is slowly easing back and forth—

The nav controls are between his legs, you immediately realize. He’s grinding up against them with how close he is to you and your seat.

And suddenly, it’s like there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. A ray of sunshine that breaks through the raging storm. Dameron might cum in his pants like this. Which means you’ll win, and arguably more importantly, you’ll finally be able to cum. You don’t even take a moment to consider the potential consequences—how you’re going to have to withstand the stimulation until he succumbs to it, how you’ll have to outlast—but you’re not thinking straight. You’re not really thinking at all.

“You can…” you suddenly hear yourself whisper, and your heart pounds in your throat when he instantly stops moving. “One… one more. If you want. You can put your finger inside this time, it’s where I’m the… w-wettest.”

“Fuck,” Dameron croaks into the crook of your neck, his voice scraping low and rough and sending a tremor through you. “Fuck, okay, yeah—”

His hand slides across your hip and down, but you catch him just in time.

“But don’t touch my clit.” You try to sound as firm as possible through the breathlessness, still trying to put your foot down even when you’re giving in, and Dameron’s teeth come out as he stifles a soft groan into your neck in response.

“Yes, baby,” he murmurs obediently as his hand sinks down once more, and so diligently, he avoids it altogether. His fingers slide under your panties and fall straight down to your entrance, down to where you know you’re the hottest, where your pussy is flexing and pushing wetness out with a steady, wicked throb. The pad of his middle finger presses gently against the tight muscles there, rubs just the slightest bit to feel that resistance, and then the length of it eases inside you so slowly that your knees rattle against bulky metal.

“Fucking Maker , ” he hisses as he slides it in, his body making a sudden jerk against the controls.

Your eyes roll back at the feeling of something inside you after so long, after such a torturous buildup, and you grasp at his forearm again when it curls naturally up against searing pleasure. Oh, it’s so good, it’s so good, your hands shake while he very carefully moves it in and out, the raw sparks of heat threatening to incinerate you as your muscles cling to every ridge of his finger. He gets it sopping wet, bathes it so completely in your slick that you’re almost certain it’ll come out pruny and drenched.

“Shit, okay,” you pant, squeezing desperately around his finger, “o-okay, fuck, that’s enough.”

His hand pulls out… slower this time. He slips his finger out of you quick enough, but he drags the tip of it through your folds as he retreats, just barely grazing your clit and making you jolt in your seat. Shit, you don’t know if it felt intentional enough to fault him for it—mostly it just excites you, thrills you to have him edge you like this without really needing to put any effort at all into it.

Dameron lifts his head to sink his finger deep into his mouth once more, and you tremble as you watch him enjoy it, staring at the way his shoulders seem to relax as soon as your taste is on his tongue, how his face goes soft with it and he almost slumps.

Relief. Genuine, not embellished. He still doesn’t say anything after he slowly slides it out and blinks at you, no sugar sweet drawl telling you how amazing you taste, no candied words to make you give in and let him have another go. You’re both breathing hard at each other, staring, waiting to see who will break first.

Stars, you… fucking like this. You want him to keep going, but you can’t offer it again. It’s just too exposing, too revealing to let him you’re actually really fucking enjoying this, you can’t—

“Do you w—?” Your voice automatically comes out through the silence without your permission, sounding just absolutely fucking wrecked by this point, but his palm is already slithering back down as soon as you speak, and you make the softest little submissive noise in your throat at him taking immediate initiative like that. He’s not as careful about it this time—his hand finds its target with less frill, his finger slides in quicker, sinking deep into your heat with little hesitation, lighting you on fire from the inside out, and you bite the meat of your thumb to stay quiet.

“Fuck, this is so hot,” he suddenly breathes next to your ear while your legs spasm and you gasp brokenly. “This is so—fuck, pretty baby letting me do this to her, I can’t fucking believe—”

Dameron eases a second finger inside you this time, letting you feel that delicious stretch from this angle, unable to lift your legs or shuffle around to help and subsequently resigned to simply experience it the way he gives it to you. Your teeth have probably permanently indented your bottom lip from how hard you’re clamped down, a testament to how much you’re trying to hold back the loud moan you miraculously haven’t released yet. Somehow it makes it sexier, not letting him hear you, not having your own noises to drown out the spark of urgency in his voice beginning to peek through.

Shit, it’s too much. You can only let him touch you a few seconds at a time before you feel that familiar tug towards mind-numbing bliss, and the more he does it, the more appealing that feeling then becomes. It’s teasing you, floating right in front of you and calling into question what could possibly be so bad about just reaching out to meet it? You could. You could cum right now. What’s two weeks of pay? You could cum all night long if you want, that is a thing you can do—

Quickly snapping out of your hypnotic downfall, your trembling hands snatch at his forearm once more, and Dameron, the fucker, drags his fingers slowly over your clit on the way out— so not accidental, not even close to it this time, but the sensation makes your hips stutter upwards and chase it nonetheless.

“Fuck you,” you groan at his audacity, your chest arching as you drop your head back, “I said don’t touch my—” but two wet fingers slipping past your lips and onto your tongue muffle the rest of your sentence. Your heart does half a somersault before slamming down early, the taste of your pussy filling your mouth as you automatically start sucking on them.

“None of that,” Dameron tells you softly, massaging his fingers along your tongue before pressing a sweet kiss under your ear. “Be nice. I’m being nice.”

You should bite him. Instead, you just close your eyes and mphh weakly around his fingers, your body sagging as you give into it and let him explore your mouth with them, your lower muscles cramping up in painful desperation even when he’s not anywhere near that part of your body right now. Your tongue even comes up to lick between them, swirl around them so soft compared to how hard you’re puffing through your nose.

Dameron slowly inches his fingers out, letting the tips of them rest against your bottom lip for just a brief moment, before his hand is moving again. Not down, but back and around, so he can open his mouth and taste you another way this time.

Shit, you feel like you’re dying. You need air. Your hands clench into fists and you use the back of one to wipe the sweat from the bridge of your nose while he takes his time sampling you like this. If anything, he looks just as blissed out as before, continuing to rub his crotch up against the solid metal between his legs and teasing you with it as much as he’s teasing himself.

“Maker, let me do this for real tonight, okay,” Dameron pants after dropping his fingers from his mouth, sounding like he’s fighting for his breath while you can’t find yours at all. Your eyes flick down to watch the way his hand disappears behind the chair to grab the controls and push his cock up against them even harder, how he drops his forehead to your neck like he just can’t fucking handle it anymore. “Fuck, I’ll shave, I’ll do anything you want, just let me��”

“Cum,” you gasp out before you can stop yourself, and there’s a moment after it where his hips suddenly stutter against the controls, and you both freeze.

Shit. Shitshitshit, did that actually work?

No, you very quickly realize, his body isn’t spasming like it would if he finally emptied his load after a month and a half. He’s just… holding there, his head buried in your neck, completely still.

You didn’t mean it like that. Well… fuck, you did, but you didn’t realize you’d be that reckless about it, that upfront about reissuing the challenge.

Dameron pulls back to look at you from the side this time, but it’s too cramped—he keeps his head turned facing you even as his eyes flick up to the transparisteel to take in the finer details of your features, the thin sheen of sweat on your forehead, and the slightly alarmed way you’re blinking back at him, worried you just shot your blaster at him in the midst of a mutual ceasefire and you fucking missed.

You see the understanding in his eyes instantly fall into place, and it’s not fucking good. Ohhhhhh no, it’s not good. Your chest starts rising and falling rapidly, suddenly registering the position you just put yourself in. Fuck, you didn’t think—you saw your opening, so clearly, you didn’t have time to think about the consequences.

“D-Dameron…” you try your best to placate.

“Don’t touch your clit?” He asks quietly, the raspiness of his voice ripping a hole through you while his hand suddenly shoves its way back down your body once more.

“Dameron,” you whimper, your heart stuttering in panic as you grasp weakly at his arm reaching between your spread thighs, “Dameron, this is—this is against the r-rules—”

“You keep saying that,” he comments, his fingers easily finding the opening in your jumpsuit no matter how hard you flex your thighs against bulky mechanics to try and close them. “How clearly do you remember the rules? What were the rules again?

You open your mouth to respond but his hand sliding under your panties and down just obliterates any chance you were going to attempt. No words, nothing comes out but a shaky whine as his finger sinks into your soaking heat, going right for the kill.

“Come on, baby, the rules,” Dameron reminds you when you never give him an answer. “Tell me. No fucking, no jerking off, and…?”

You suddenly struggle forwards in a last-ditch attempt at preventing the inevitable, hoping you can scoot up enough in your seat to escape his reach from behind. But fuck, your thighs have been shoved wide open for nearly eight hours—none of the muscles are working the way they should be anymore. There’s just enough room in front of you to get there and you probably would’ve been able to do it at the beginning of the shift, even with his hand between your legs like this, but you’re sluggish and your thighs pull sharp and urgent with the movement. The frantic maneuver enough to veer his fingers off course just slightly, moving one of your lips to the side at an angle, and you keep pushing against the pain no matter how useless it is.

“—No cumming,” he finishes for you, and his other hand is slithering up under your arm and groping one of your breasts through the jumpsuit before shoving you back tight up against your seat once more, totally helpless against it. “Probably have another fifteen minutes or so before our shift ends. Better hold it in, pretty baby, because this one is all you.”

“This—this isn’t fair, this is—” The second the slippery pad of his finger presses hard against your clit, you’re biting your lip to cut off a breathless whimper that slips out. “This is… is sab— sabotage— ”

“Oh, I know,” he moans next to your ear, mocking your high plea of distress with a fake, overly sympathetic whine. “Feels so fucking good though, doesn’t it?”

Fuck, it does. The build feels like an orgasm in itself, just working your way to it. You’re already so unbelievably close after just a few seconds of direct stimulation, an obvious consequence of originally agreeing to such a hardcore edging workout. You’re pouring sweat, so swollen and tight between your legs as you do everything you can to revolt against your body’s needs.

“Oh fuck, stop touching my clit—” you gasp raggedly, heart thundering in panic while your lower muscles start to immediately seize up, “oh—fuckfuckfuck— Poe, take your finger off m—”

Instead of doing it, his hand just slows down until the tip of his finger comes to a halt, maybe less than an inch over top of it. You still can’t catch your breath though, not when you feel yourself throbbing against absolutely nothing, the calloused pad holding perfectly still over the bundle of nerves. The swollen bud still arcs and flares at a steady frequency, building and building, and you choke out a wordless garble, absolutely fucking furious that this is what’s gonna make you cum.

“Don’t make me cum,” you switch up your sentence but not the terrified plead in your voice, the way it’s pitching up and out of control in the dead quiet of space. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. “Don’t make me cum, don—”

“Say it again,” he prompts instead, and lightning arcs up your spine.

“Poe,” you wheeze, the words coming from you without thought, your fingernails digging into his forearm even as your hips jerk up into his touch, “fuck, don’t make me cum, Poe—please don’t make me c—”

“But it’ll be so good,” he counters lowly, and your clit throbs in desperation at the richness of his voice when he speaks like this, saying things from deep in his chest. “It’ll be so fucking good when it happens. Stars, you’ll feel so much better, won’t you? Cum right now and I’ll give you as many as I can until we have to go home.”

“N-No,” you whine, feeling his teeth scrape at the crook of your neck. “No, I can’t—”

“Cum for me,” Dameron raises his voice, sharpening it into a direct order. “Right now. Come on— fucking make yourself lose.”

“But I—I—” you sob, starting to feel your body curl inwards, nearly about to succumb to the burning, the tightening, right on its last breath, “I-I don’t want to cum—”

“And I don’t fucking care,“ he hisses while your hands start flexing unintentionally, grasping helplessly at his immovable forearm where it disappears between your legs, the dark hair sliding under your fingertips as you claw desperately at it. “You’ll fucking cum when I tell you to cum and you’ll like it, you disrespectful, cock-deprived, bratty little—”

And then everything goes dark.

No, literally. The stars disappear.

The cockpit is suddenly shrouded in pitch blackness, and you’re almost certain it’s because you pass out, except then Dameron is all but ripping his hand out of your jumpsuit and cursing repeatedly in alarm. You crumple in on yourself, eyes clamped shut and not hearing anything, right at the peak of your ecstasy and ready to soar into the light completely unassisted, your muscles doing all the work on their own—

“—shit, they’re way too close—” you hear his voice shout, “—we have to turn the engines on—Gold-Ten, baby, turn the fucking eng—”

You’re almost there, you’re almost there, you’re gonna cum, you’re gonna fucking—

Your first name, roared out in startling, blinding panic.

You don’t often hear it. Just during roll calls mostly, but only if you’re flying with a different squadron and need a new temporary flight designation for the day. First names hurt. You can’t remember a time you’ve ever willingly told anybody yours.

Your head jerks up to look at his reflection but something else beyond the transparisteel takes immediate precedence. Your brain takes about two seconds to catch up before thundering terror slams through you and halts your previously inevitable orgasm in its fucking tracks. A runaway train about to launch off its tracks suddenly slamming directly into a megaton force-field of cold, hard fight or flight instincts.

A staggering fleet of First Order ships silently plunging out of hyperspace on all sides—your powered-down x-wing stationed right in the middle of the drop location.

***

Stay tuned for part two coming soon!!

#poe x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #SMUTTTT #reader insert #star wars #fanfic #the formatting on this one is downright horrendous but im so mad that i cant even fix it right now so thatll have to come later im sorry

4K notes · View notes

sockendrache · 3 years

Text

Egg

Inspired by my own dissatisfaction that Kyle didn’t get a Monstie and @magicallynormal ‘s idea of Kyle’s Monstie being a Tobi-Kadachi, I wrote this little ff in like 2 hours because I had nothing better to do

I wanted the Rider to stay gender-neutral but it just sounds like Kyle never bothered to ask them for their name-

___________________

“This is a terrible idea.”

“You should’ve thought about it before we left Kuan, then.”

Without sparing Kyle another glance, the Rider entered the Monster’s nesting-area without any hesitation showing on their face; Ratha close behind them. From within the depths of the cave, the Hunter could hear distant roars and predatory clicks; instinctively, he straightens his back, hand hovering over his bow.

The Rider, kneeling besides the huge nest, doesn’t seem bothered by the sounds at all; way too busy examining the brightly colored eggs.

Off to the sides, Kyle spots various piles of worn-down bones, all sporting teeth-marks and scratches, some entirely broken open. Along with a few stray chunks of flesh, almost blending into the ground of the den. They don’t look very fresh; probably a few days old already. His instincts tell Kyle to quickly gather up a few samples of whatever he can get his hands on, maybe let his scoutflies out to take in the scents; then leave the den as quickly and quietly as possible. Not taking anything valuable with him, not disturbing the Monster’s home in any way.

Though... the weight of the kinship-stone, strapped to his left hand, reminds him of the reason for this “expedition”.

He’s not here to take samples for the ever-curious Research Center, nor to track down a Monster. He’s not here to deliver chunks of flesh or eggs.... however, maybe he should just imagine he’s here for a delivery-quest. Maybe that would help calm his poor nerves, still absolutely shot to hell.

Kyle, who was born and raised a Hunter, who knows nothing else; he’s here to get his first Monstie.

It’s absolutely unheard of. A Hunter, whose sole purpose is to hunt these beasts down –maybe capturing them after tiring them out in battle, if the quest calls for it- is about to form a bond with one of these creatures, who he spent years of his life learning the weaknesses of, training to take down beasts several times his size.

Kyle takes a strained breath, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. Over their shoulder, the Rider shoots him a look; their eyes warm, their glance almost comforting.

“Come closer.”, they calmly say, gesturing with their hand towards the nest.

Feeling drastically out of his element, Kyle follows the command; takes a few brave steps towards the nest and promptly freezes up again.

He knows the process of this; hell, he’s already lost track of how often he stood guard while his new Rider-friend sifted through a Monster’s nest. He knew how to hold Wyvern-eggs, how damn heavy these things were and how stupid you looked while carrying one. He knew how these things were goddamn predator-magnets, and how easily they broke.

That, perhaps, was one of the things that frightened Kyle the most about this whole situation.

How often had he accidentally broken an egg while out on a transporting-quest? How often had he washed the yolk and slimy egg-whites off his armor in a nearby stream, before tracking his way back to the nest to pick up a new egg? And how often had he not wasted a single thought on it...?

It’s just eggs, he used to think. Eggs that he’ll bring to the canteen after returning to the base, eggs that he’ll probably eat sooner or later before leaving the base again, set out on yet another quest.

And yet, here he was. Standing at a Monster’s nest, containing eggs that he, before he met the Riders, used to scoop up without thinking about it twice. His muscles feel stiff beneath his armor, his throat scratchy and dry; what if he broke this egg too?

“Kyle?”, the Rider’s calm voice rips him out of his violently spinning thoughts. “You okay?”

Was he okay? Good question; if only Kyle knew the answer.

“I... I don’t think I can do this.”, he mutters, hating how small his voice is sounding. Cold fingers brush over his kinship-stone; a gift from the Rider. Apparently, it once belonged to them- before this Wyverian girl gave them their grandfather’s kinship-stone. “I mean- if I should do this. I’m- I’m a Hunter, we don’t just.... ride Monsters.”

They, like so often, only shake their head the slightest bit. And calmly, they reach for Kyle’s hand.

“Then why does Ratha love you so much?”

Almost as if on command, a big, scaly head bumps into his back; Ratha’s idea of a hug. After having spent a little time on Hakolo-island, it was almost frightening to see how.... human Monsters -or Monsties, as Kyle learned they were called- could be. He’s seen Ratha pick up on emotions, display human-like behavior; and not just on him. The Rider loved to point out the Monster’s behaviors whenever they took on a quest together, and as someone who’s spent his whole life learning about Monsters, it felt so entirely.... different, watching their behavior in packs, or see something as innocently as an Azuros teaching its cubs how to fish.

It felt almost unreal.

As a Hunter, most, if not all of his hunting-quests were targeting Monsters wrecking havoc; and when he’s out collecting ingredients or samples, he rarely ever got the chance of seeing Monsters in their natural habitat. And admittedly... seeing these beasts; even the ones that were known for their hostile behavior, completely unbothered by his presence... it shook something deep inside Kyle’s core.

Gently, cold fingers intertwine with his; pulling him down to kneel next to the Rider. Kyle peers over the edge of the massive nest; its inside carefully laid out with tufts of fur and moss. It’s like a giant bird-nest, the Monster clearly having put a lot of work into the making of it. Upon closer inspection of the fur, Kyle has a vague idea of whose nest he’s sitting at right now; though, following the Rider around, he quickly learned that there’s often a few “imposter”-eggs in a nest, smuggled in by Monsters not bothering to care for their young one hatched.

The silence feels tense; so, Kyle attempts to ease it a little.

“Why didn’t Navirou come along? Wouldn’t he be of help, sniffing out a good egg?”

Quietly, the Rider shook their head, giving Kyle an almost apologetic smile. They weren’t a big fan of words; he quickly caught up on that. However, this look didn’t need any words; after all, Kyle did tag along to a few egg-hunts before, watching from the sidelines as Navirou ushered them out of the den, barely giving the Rider enough time to get a good grip on the newly acquired egg. It’s not like Kyle had anything against the Felyne personally; but he had to admit that he was glad he wouldn’t have to rush through this process, only to prevent Navirou from having a Monster-induced heart-attack.

After all, he had a feeling that time would be an important factor in picking out his first Monstie.

With a huff, the Rider pushes themselves up, gently pulling Kyle with them as they step into the nest. Twigs crunch under his weight as he kneels down, getting onto the same level as the eggs.

The Rider placed their hand on Kyle’s shoulder; he’d lie if he tried to tell anyone that it wasn’t comforting. “Just pick the egg you have a connection to. Good smell or not, doesn’t matter. Don’t tell Navi I said that, though.”

The instructions are clear, yet awfully vague; and Kyle can’t help but note how it’s one of the longest sentences he’s ever heard from them. “Take your time, but.... not too much. Before an angry Mama Monster sees us.”

“....sounds reasonable.”

As he looks over each of the large eggs, most of them brown in color with yellow-ish ovals on the shell, he notices the odd one out. Between the egg of an herbivore, if he recalled correctly, laid a pale blue egg, the shell littered with dark blue, almost black zigzags.

Apparently, his gaze lingered a little too long on the lone Wyern-egg, as evident by the look the Rider gave him.

“That one?”, they asked, gingerly reaching out to guide Kyle’s hand towards the egg. Despite the cold air having slowly numbed his fingers, the egg’s surprisingly smooth texture is one of the first things that he notices. At first glance, it’s just like any other Wyvern-egg he’s transported before; and yet, in the back of Kyle’s mind, there was something.... else to this egg.

As if he could feel the Monster calling out to him from within its protective shell, only waiting for a Rider to bestow it their blessings and allow it to awaken into this world.

“I- ….is this normal?”

His fingers now shivering, he places his entire hand on the egg, frightened yet amazed how small his hand is compared to the massive egg. The Rider gives him a look that Kyle can’t quite place.

“I feel like-... this little guy wants to come out...?”

Before he knows it, Kyle is protectively clutching the egg to his chest; holding onto it just a little tighter than onto the ones during his transport-quests. The Rider and Ratha lead the way out of the Monster’s den, practically shielding him from the hungry eyes of the predators waiting in their path.

On the flight back to Kuan, Kyle could swear that his kinship-stone was pulsating with life.

__________________________________

“....is this really necessary?”

Back in the village, their first stop was the stables. And under the watchful eye of the Felyne running the stables, Rider and Hunter were preparing to hatch the little Monstie.

The egg –a pulsing fanged Wyvern, as Kyle now knew- was placed in a little nest, and Kyle could think it was staring at him from beneath the shell.

The Rider doesn’t bother answering, instead handing him a stick, with which they –to Kyle’s horror- performed something apparently referred to as “Dance of the tribe”, a ritual meant to pray for a healthy Monstie to hatch from an egg. Though, Kyle wasn’t entirely sure if they were just fucking with him, or if it was a legit ritual back on Hakolo-island.

Though, he doubted he’d have time to fly back to Mahana-village and ask the chief for confirmation before his Monstie hatched, and... something told him that he didn’t want to miss this.

And so, with the utmost raise of his eyebrow Kyle could possibly muster, he gingerly reached for the stick.

_________________________________________

By the time he was done, his face bright red and radiating more warmth than the oven inside his house, the egg hadn’t budged. Other than the soft cackle of the fire and Kyle’s tense breathing, the stables were silent, everyone’s eyes fixed on the egg... before suddenly, it shuddered with life.

Kyle, utterly overwhelmed with the situation, could only stare helplessly as the egg started to crack, pieces of the shell starting to fall off and revealing tiny spots of blue fur. Though, the Rider is quick to help; promptly instructing him to hold his kinship-stone towards the egg.

“To help it hatch,” they explained, their eyes practically glazed over with excitement. But hell, in comparison to Kyle, that was nothing. There might have even been tears in his eyes, he didn’t know- not even if they were from excitement or fear.

His kinship-stone starts to glisten in a bright blue light; he’d probably be scared if he hadn’t seen this during his battles with the Rider. The shell continues to crack open, tiny pieces falling off, until the egg shattered with a burst of life, a shrieking roar piercing the tense atmosphere of the stables.

As Kyle is face to face with the little Monstie, his throat starts to tighten.

“A Tobi-Kadachi! What a fine little Meownster,” the Felyne purrs as the Monster looks up at Kyle with –surprisingly- innocent-looking eyes.

Instinctively, something in Kyle wants to reach for his bow- thank the sapphire-star he took it off after entering the village. A tingling heat starts to spread throughout his body; the first hints of adrenaline starting to pump into his blood stream. He’s reminded of the piercing roars of the adults he’s encountered during his hunts, of their bursts of electricity when they glide through the trees and pounce onto their prey.

A bead of sweat collects on his brow; and as always, the Rider seems to notice. Calmly, they appear at his side, taking his clammy hand into theirs and holding it out- that way, Kyle can clearly see how his fingers shake.

The tiny Monster curiously looks at his hand; and just like that, his eyes squeeze shut and Kyle finds himself praying that the little creature is more interested in sniffing him than chewing his fingers off- at least until he feels something soft press up into his palm.

Upon forcing his eyelids open, he sees this newborn Monster rub its unbelievably tiny head against his palm, the smallest chirps coming out of its throat, and the Rider- they carefully let go of his hand, grabbing a hold of the other one and guiding it towards the Monster-…. No, guiding it towards his Monstie and-

The Tobi-Kadachi, this freshly hatched creature; it outright jumps into his arms- a poor attempt at gliding, it seems, and just like that, Kyle’s instinct to reach for his bow is replaced by the instinct to catch the Monster and-

By the gleeful little churr it makes once its settled in Kyle’s arms, he promptly finds himself nuzzling his face into soft fur. Still utterly overwhelmed by the idea of this tiny creature being his Monstie, but as he looks into the Wyvern’s big eyes, so full of innocence and wonder, he suddenly feels very much like he- no, they can do this.

#mhst2 #monster hunter stories 2 #monster hunter stories wings of ruin #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter fanfiction #fanfiction #tobi-kadachi #monster hunter stories #give this boy a monstie im begging you

232 notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 3 years

Text

Killing Floor

Pairing: dark!Mr. Freezy x dark!fem!Reader

Words: 4389

Summary: You run into Robert Pronge one night and end up tangled in a scheme together.

Warnings: DARK so, so dark, please do not read if these type of fics upset you! non-con (erring on the safe side), dub-con (for sure), very graphic violence (m to f and f to m), death, gore, explicit language, explicit sexual content (unprotected vaginal sex, hate-fucking, cavalier use of a handgun), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: My first dark fic! It got away from me for sure but I enjoyed it. Please, please be mindful of the content you are consuming though, this could very easily be upsetting! Because of this, I’m only gonna tag my fellow Freezy hoes here, as I haven’t updated my taglist doc to include dark!Fics.

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!

You eyed the Mr. Freezy truck warily as you carried your garbage to the dumpster behind your apartment building. This was the third time this week you had seen it outside your place, and it was setting you on edge. There were hardly any kids in your neighborhood, so you didn’t know why it was hanging out here.

You cursed under your breath as the truck moved to the mouth of the alley, blocking your exit. You pressed your back to the wall behind the dumpster, right as a man exited into the alleyway from the bar underneath your place to smoke a cigarette.

A massive man in a white uniform stepped out of the back of the ice cream truck and walked towards the smoker, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves as he made his approach. He asked him for a cigarette before pulling a silenced pistol out of his jacket and shooting his target three times in the chest.

You schooled your breathing as you watched him drag the body to the back of his truck, trying to remain as still as possible. He stormed back into the alley to search for the shell casings, turning his back to you as he collected them.

Your legs were starting to cramp from your crouched position, and as hard as you were trying to stay still, it was getting difficult. You tried shifting your foot, but your ankle rolled in your heels and you let out a hiss. The killer straightened up suddenly at the sound, cocking his head as he turned toward you with a sneer on his face.

“Is that a little kitty I hear?” He jeered as he walked toward you, his voice thick with a Boston accent.

You stood up from your hiding place, preparing to make a run for it. He saw you tense up and lunged at you, wrapping a massive hand around your throat and pinning you against the wall, knocking the air from your lungs and cracking your skull against the bricks.

“Nice try, sweetheart, but I can’t let you go just yet.” He pressed his body against yours to pin you, his other hand brushing his stringy hair from in front of his glasses. “You have got horrible timing. To think I almost got out of here without getting a look at you, kitten.”

You just glared him as he moved his hand down from your throat to dip inside your blouse, grinning as he pawed at you as he buried his face in your shoulder, grinding his crotch into you.

“Think I’m gonna have a little fun with you before I let you go. You’re being so good and quiet.” He panted against your neck. Suddenly he stilled and drew his face up to look you in the eyes. “Why haven’t you called for help?”

He had relaxed just enough to allow you to move and you drove your knee between his legs at the same time you shoved your hand into his jacket and drew out his pistol, whipping it across his face and sending him sprawling.

“You cunt!” He spat, bloody spittle flying from the corners of his mouth as he moved to charge you again, stopping short when you pressed his gun to his temple. “Oh, you stupid little bitch.”

“I’m the stupid bitch?” You growled at him. “You wanna tell me what the fuck a Gambino hitman is doing so far outside of their territory?”

“Shit.” He hissed between his teeth as he eyed you warily. “You’re with the Genoveses?”

“That’s right.” You said, drawing back the hammer on the pistol. “Now answer my question.”

“Alright, alright!” He raised his hands in supplication, showing you his palms. “Fella in my truck has a father who owes Marks a good chunk of change, and y’know, he needed a little incentive to pay off his debt.”

“Marks gave you the ok to take out this hit? The mans getting bold.” You snorted, releasing the hammer as you pulled the gun back. “Lucky for you, I feel like leaving this to the bosses to figure out. Get the fuck out of here.” He stood up warily and reached for his gun, which you pulled back with a tut. “No, I’m gonna hold onto this for now. Maybe I’ll give it back later.”

Mr. Freezy growled as he brushed off his uniform and stalked back to his truck, grumbling under his breath the whole time. You just winked at him as he drove away, heading back up to your apartment to call this in.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You saw him again 2 weeks later at a sit-down. Marks came to make amends to your boss for overstepping, hoping to find someway show his remorse for sending his man into the Family’s territory without permission. You were perched on a stool in the back of the room when the two men entered, and a small smirk teased your lips.

Lombardo liked bringing you to meetings as a distraction. Most of his comrades assumed you were there for eye candy, just the latest piece of tail the boss was wetting his dick in, too stupid to care about. But the real reason he kept you around was for protection. He loved the look of surprise that came over his enemies’ faces when you pulled out your garrot.

“Great to see you Leo!” Lombardo said warmly, moving to give the man a kiss on each cheek before sinking into his chair, gesturing for Marks to join him. “Y/N, grab us some wine sweetheart. Does your man want any?”

“No, I don’t like my men drinking while they work.��

You moved to open the wine when a massive palm wrapped around your upper arm.

“This is the bitch I told you about, boss.” The killer seethed as he wrenched you around viciously.

“The fuck are you doing, Pronge?” Marks hissed, giving you a chance to grab the corkscrew and press it to Robert’s throat. “Benny, I apologize for my man’s behavior, he’s been foaming at the mouth about some broad getting the best of him and it’s made him a little erratic.”

Lombardo just laughed as Pronge released you with a duck of his head. You kept the corkscrew where it was, watching a thin trickle of blood run down his neck.

“Let him go, Y/N.” He said with a wave of his hand, and you moved to open the wine, pouring two glasses and bringing them over to the seated men. “My girl has a tendency to elicit that type of reaction. It’s one of the reasons I keep her around!” He gave you a pat on the ass as you headed back to your stool, your eyes trained on Robert Pronge.

He was glowering at you maliciously as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his forearms flexing as he clenched his fists. You heard him growl from deep in his chest when you gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“You see my problem Leo, we can’t have Gambinos moving through our territory with impunity, as much as we can sympathize with the need to collect a debt. Fortunately for you, the boss is still soft on you fellas, so we’ve come up with a solution I think will work for everyone.”

“Ah, Benny, I can’t tell you how happy that makes me! Of course, whatever you need.”

“Excellent! We’ve got a little problem with one of Big Mike’s nephews. The kids an idiot and has been making some waves that are making it increasingly difficult to manage our operations, I’m sure you know the type.”

“There’s one in every family.” Marks said with a shake of his head.

“That there is. Anyways, Funzi wants us to deal with the kid under the radar. I’d normally send in Y/N on her own to take care of it, but as great as she is, the kid is surrounded by morons all the time. We also have a disposal problem. Funzi wants to make it seem like the kid ran off with some bitch, hopefully avoid a war, and we’ve heard that your man Pronge here is a disposal expert.”

“Oh, fuck no!” Pronge exclaimed. “I’m not working with this cunt!”

“You’ll do what I order you to do, or I’ll fucking end you, now shut the fuck up!” Marks roared at Robert, making him wince as he leaned back against the wall. “He’ll do it.”

“Glad to hear it.” Benny murmured, his nostrils flaring in anger as he gave you the signal to relax. “Let’s drink to our friendship while we let these two hash out the details.”

You stood up from your stool with a deep sigh as you moved towards your new partner. The man looked like he wanted to murder you, and you just gave him a wicked grin. He seemed to relax as you went over the plan with him, not really offering any notes, just grunting in acknowledgement as his eyes roamed over your body. You managed to come to a grudging agreement and made plans to meet in two days to carry everything out.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

You had been waiting outside the club for 10 minutes when Pronge finally parked his sedan across the street. He leered as he walked towards you, eyes drinking you in. You looked extremely different than the last time he saw you, relaxed in a flowing dress that stopped mid-thigh and plunged almost all the way down to your navel.

“You always dress like a whore on the job?” He grumbled as the two of you headed to the entrance.

“Sure. You always dress like a clown?” You asked, wincing at the painful pattern on his shirt.

“Fucking bitch.” He muttered under his breath, not quite low enough that you couldn’t hear him.

“That’s right.” You said, your eyes roaming around the club as you looked for your man. “There he is.”

There was a group of young men in a booth at the back. The leader bent to snort a line of coke off the table before screaming for more drinks.

“What a fucking moron.” Pronge said from directly behind you. You could feel the suffocating heat of his body against your back as you stretched your neck. You sensed his eyes boring into you, searing over your bare flesh.

“Wait for my signal.” You muttered as you moved towards the dance floor, winding your way through the crowd smoothly until you positioned yourself in front of the mark’s table.

Pronge moved around the edge of the dancefloor as he kept an eye on you, you even danced like a slut. Your eyes were fixed on the mark as you gyrated to the music. It didn’t take long for the idiot to notice you. Your hands wandered all over your body as you swayed drunkenly, tracing the curves of your breasts and running over your neck languidly before dropping to your hips and teasing the hem of your skirt higher on your thighs.

He felt his dick starting to get hard as he watched you move, fighting the urge to pull you into an alley and fuck you until you couldn’t talk. His bitch wife had been refusing to put out for months, but ever since he first saw you in that alley, you’re all he could think about. He just wanted to shove his cock in that smart mouth of yours and shut you up for good. He had dreams about wrapping his hands around your throat as he ruined your pussy, marking your tits with his teeth as he split you open.

Fuck, he was so hard it hurt. He did his best to school his thoughts as he watched the mark move to join you. He felt himself tense as he watched the moron slot himself behind you and grind against your ass. His hands roamed over your torso until he was cupping your breasts, squeezing them softly as you dropped your head back against his shoulder with a moan, arching into his grasp.

Robert lost his patience and stormed towards the bathroom, slamming the door open as he strode inside. His did his best to control his breathing as he checked the stalls for occupants. He heard your laugh coming from the corridor and he scrambled to conceal himself, perching on top of a toilet and closing the stall door as you entered the bathroom.

You were giggling breathlessly as the idiot mouthed at your neck. He ripped the sleeves of your dress down your arms until your tits were exposed, and you sighed as your nipples pebbled in the air. Your mark bent to run his mouth over your chest sloppily as he fumbled with his belt.

Pronge lowered himself to the floor gingerly, splaying his palm on the stall door and pushing it open slowly. Your eyes shot open and did your best to swallow a hiss. Something must have tipped off the mark, because he straightened suddenly and turned around.

You growled at Robert and wrapped your arms around the mark’s neck before he had a chance to raise the alarm, squeezing hard enough that his oxygen was cut off. Your eyes bored into his as you choked the man, bringing him to his knees as you crouched behind him, your body curled tightly around his. Pronge’s cock was pressing painfully against the front of his pants as he watched you work. Your dress gathered around your waist and your makeup smeared all over your face as the muscles in your arms strained with the effort of strangling the man.

He finally stopped fighting you, and you moved to grip his head at crown and chin before wrenching your arms in two different directions, snapping his neck. You dropped the body to the floor and stood slowly to glare at Pronge, your nostrils flaring.

“You’re supposed to be in the alley.” You seethed as you pulled your dress back over your shoulders, moving to check the hall for any alarm.

“You moved faster than I was expecting.” He hissed, climbing one of the toilets to open the small window to the alley. He gripped a pipe running over the ceiling and lifted himself up enough to shove his legs through. He moved his hands to brace against the sill as he slid through the narrow opening, his broad shoulders just barely able to fit through the frame. He dropped into the alley and looked around, ensuring there were no witnesses.

It was only a few seconds before you were shoving the body through the window for Pronge to catch. He couldn’t deny he was impressed. You were stronger than you looked to be able to lift all that dead weight through a window 8 feet off the ground. He caught it easily and hauled it to the Mr. Freezy truck, shoving it in the back before moving back to the window.

He came back to find you with your legs dangling from the window as you slid through. You dropped softly on the balls of your feet, being careful not to roll your ankles as you landed in your stilettos.

Robert was leering as you strutted past him, your hips swaying suggestively as you made your way to the truck, wrenching open the doors and stepping inside. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, pulling out slowly as you worked to wrap the body in plastic sheeting.

The two of you reached the warehouse in a little under an hour. Robert backed the truck into the loading bay and threw it in park before moving around to open the dock doors. He opened the back doors of the truck and tossed the body over his shoulder as you stepped out.

“Just head straight through.” He instructed you. You gave him a nod over your shoulder as you headed in. He grinned wickedly to himself as he watched your ass swinging back and forth in those heels, moving to follow you.

You found the old slaughterhouse easily and lowered a hook over the drain in the floor as he came to stand behind you, close enough that he had you on edge.

Once the hook was low enough, you moved forward in tandem. You ripped the plastic sheeting off the body as Pronge moved to wrap the hook and chain around the ankles. Once everything was secure, you stepped back to raise the chain.

Robert was still watching like a hawk. You did your best to ignore his eyes on you as you stood with one hip cocked, one heel tapping impatiently on the slanted floor.

Once it was at the required height, you stepped forward to drain the body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling a hunting knife out of your bag.

He growled from deep in his chest as he watched you work, leaned against the railing surrounding the killing floor, his cock starting to harden again as you stepped back, wiping your blade on a handkerchief.

“Almost forgot, Pronge.” You said, digging your hand in your purse and pulling out a pistol. You grinned at the panic on his face before flipping the gun in your hand so the grip was pointed at him. “This is yours.”

He took it from you warily and shoved it into the waist of his slacks, eyes still boring into you as he ran his tongue over his bottom lip.

“We’ve got some time to kill sweetheart.” He murmured as you moved to walk past him, heading back towards the loading bay.

Just like that he was on you, one giant hand wrapping around your throat as he slammed you against the wall, your head cracking against the concrete and your teeth snapping together painfully. You brought your knife up whip fast and pressed it to his throat at the same time he drew the gun from his waistband and pressed it to your abdomen.

“You’re just turning me on even more, kitten.” He leered at you, slipping the gun down the curve of your hip and drawing the hem of your skirt up your thigh with the barrel. He brushed the edge of his hand against your panties, groaning at how soaked you were.

He brought his other hand down and shredded the thin fabric easily, tucking the ruins in his back pocket before digging his fingers into your hip, gripping you hard enough to draw bruises. He sneered at you as he slipped the gun between your legs, running the barrel between your folds and teasing it against your clit, making you arch into him with a hiss.

“God, what a fucking slut you are.” He chuckled as he slipped the cool metal over your sex, your arousal soaking the steel as you writhed against it. “Acting so stuck up, and here this cunt is begging for me. Maybe I should fuck you with my gun, would you like that?”

He pressed the tip of the barrel against your entrance and you spat in his face, pressing the knife further into his neck and giving a mock sound of sympathy as a drop of blood welled at the tip.

“Just keep doing what you’re doing, fucker.” You ordered him, grinding yourself into the steel as another round of arousal seeped from your pussy as it clenched around nothing.

“Oho, you bitch. I’m gonna fucking ruin you.” He growled menacingly at you as you slipped your hand under the buttons of his shirt, popping them open one at a time at an agonizing pace as you kept your blade trained on his jugular.

“Promises, promises.” You tutted, the coil in your abdomen growing tighter and tighter as you dug your nails into Robert’s chest, drawing a moan from deep in his throat.

He pressed the gun against your clit violently and grinned as you fell apart. Your legs trembled as you release gushed over the now-warm steel. You bit your lip as you gave a low moan, your cunt fluttering as came down from your high.

“That’s right, whore.” He withdrew the gun from between your legs and brought it up to his face, running his tongue over the barrel and moaning at the taste of you. He tossed the weapon aside carelessly before bringing his hands up to wrench the sleeves of your dress over your shoulders, until it was pooled around your ankles.

“Just fucking look at that.” He murmured as his eyes raked over you. “No wonder the Genoveses keep you a secret.”

He brought one hand to dig painfully into your breast as his other slipped between your thighs. You removed the knife from his neck before slashing it across his chest in a quick motion, making him hiss as you ducked your head to drag your tongue over the wound, moaning as the metallic taste of his blood hit your tongue.

His backhand sent your sprawling, your teeth cutting the inside of your cheek as the knife flew out of your hand. You laughed darkly as you straightened back up, spitting the blood out of your mouth as you watched him strip off his clothes.

“I’m gonna split you open and break you apart, cunt.” He spat as he stalked towards you. His body had an air of menace about it, thick corded muscles stretched over his frame that was covered in scars. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me.”

You groaned as he pounced on you, his mouth moving to trace your breasts hungrily as his fingers dug into the small of your back. You sucked in a harsh breath and wrapped your fingers in his hair painfully as you felt him sink his teeth into you and he moaned into your soft flesh. He moved his teeth over your tits in a vicious trail, marking you with them.

“Fuck.” You hissed as a particularly deep bite had him drawing blood.

He wrenched himself up to glare at you and wrapped his hand around your throat tight enough that it was cutting off your oxygen.

“I don’t wanna hear another word out of that mouth of yours.” He growled, pressing you against the wall again. “I’d shut you up with my cock, but I wanna wreck that hole between your legs first.”

He slapped his swollen tip against your pussy once before spearing into you. He grinned wolfishly as he felt your throat vibrating under his hand and he bent to scrape his teeth over your jaw.

“God, this whore pussy is so fucking tight.” He growled into your ear. “You’re squeezing me so hard, you gonna cum already?”

He felt you stiffen for a beat and then you were quivering around him, a thin whine escaping from your tightened throat as you raked your fingers down the muscles of his back, drawing deep gauges with your nails.

He slammed your head against the wall hard enough to draw blood as your release seeped over his cock, leaking down the inside of your thighs as you fought the urge to pass out.

Robert released you suddenly, his hand leaving your throat as he pulled out. You only had a second to suck in a breath as he spun you around, tilting your hips just a bit before slamming into you again. You pressed your cheek against the wall as he plunged into you brutally.

You let out a series of small whimpers as he pinched your nipples harshly, tugging at them and pulling your tits away from your body. You fought the urge to yelp when he slapped them, making your pussy clamp down on his cock as he fucked into you.

“What a good little slut you are.” He hissed in against your hair, smearing his face through the blood seeping from your head wound. “Yeah, you love the feel of my big fucking cock inside you?”

The only answer you could give was a low moan, followed by a gasp as he wrapped a hand around to pinch your clit.

“That’s right bitch, cream all over me. God you’re fucking cock drunk, aren’t you?”

You just whined as he tweaked your clit one more time and you came apart, your legs giving out. Robert wrapped a hand around your thigh and drew it up to pin against your waist as your body quivered against him, your pussy milking his cock as your eyes rolled back in your head.

“Fuck.” He whispered as his cock twitched inside you and he sank his teeth into your shoulder as he came, blood welling into his mouth as you cried wordlessly and he shot his seed into you, coating your canal in thick hot ropes that seeped out over your thighs.

He kept fucking you through it until he started to soften, then shoved you against the wall violently, pulling away and spitting your blood out of his mouth.

He watched you closely as you turned around, doing his best to keep from hardening again as he looked at you. Your hips and thighs were covered in bruises that were sure to darken even more over the next few days. There was the trace of his hand over your neck that you were absentmindedly running your fingers over. The side of your face where he had slapped you was starting to swell, a shallow cut running along your cheekbone. Blood was leaking from the corner of your mouth and your chest was covered in angry bite marks, some of them bleeding.

You wiped your hand across your face as you stared back at him, wincing. He didn’t look any better. His chest was covered in deep scratches and claw marks, smeared with blood from the cut on his chest. A thin red trail was running down his neck from the shallow prick you had made under his chin. His face was smeared with your blood from where he had buried himself in your hair, and when he turned to collect his clothes, you admired the deep gauges you’d made in his back.

“That was something.” You murmured, catching your dress in mid-air as he tossed it at you. You flicked your head towards where the body was suspended and gave a deep sigh. “Where’s your bonesaw?”

A/N: Welp, I’m going to hell, but at least I’m taking you hoes with me!

Tags!

@stargazingfangirl18 @starlightcrystalline @ozarkthedog @drabblewithfrannybarnes @slothspaghettiwrites @sultrygoblin

591 notes · View notes

animedaddymilkers · 3 years

Text

Kinkmas 2020: Day Eight

Prompt: Breeding w/ Jiraiya

Genre: Smut/18+ || Tags: Breeding, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Slight Impregnation, Sex Worker, Mutual Pining, Oral, Fingering || Characters: Jiraiya, Female Reader || read it on ao3 here

Three hours, three agonizing hours until your favorite client checked in. Three hours filled with you anxiously doing your makeup and little odds and ends to make sure your appearance was as enticing as possible. It wasn't usually like you to go all out for customers, but this particular one was special. Not to mention he was also your highest paying one. Andddd you may have caught some stupid, school-girl crush for him. Though you wouldn't dare say anything to his face, or to anyone for that matter. It wasn't worth risking your best client. Being a sex worker was hard enough as it was.

Jiraiya was a different breed of man, probably a different breed of human if you were being totally honest. He was so suave and smooth, yet put on a sleazy front, driving away most of the civilian women. You had your suspicions that he did that on purpose, but it wasn't your place to pry. He definitely attracted all the women who worked in similar professions as you, that was for sure. Even though he was known to be a cheapskate, drunk, and always tried to get more than he paid for, he wasn't like that with you. You heard once he found a favorite he was the exact opposite of his reputation and now you were living through just that.

The white-haired man appeared in the doorway of your designated hotel room, a bright smile on his face. This time the room had to be the presidential suite, it was comparable to a whole ass apartment for Kami's sake. After hearing the hotel door open you scurried out of the ridiculously large bathroom, your heels clicking along the marble floor to greet your client. His roaring laugh filled the room as he watched your delicate appearance not-so-delicately enter the room.

"Well, look at you! Shit, darling, you look amazing today. You're going to kill an old man like me," his cherry tone made you smile and you stopped in front of him.

"Oh please, you're harder to kill than that! So, what were you thinking today?" Your hands trailed up his still clothed chest, taking in the feel of the muscles you knew laid underneath.

Jiraiya's hands went to your waist, thumbs running over the lingerie you donned," Always so straight to the point, aren't you? Always loved that about ya. Anyways, thought maybe today we could just do something… soft? Just got back from a rough mission and could use some soft lovin'."

"Oh, yeah definitely! I can be whatever you need, handsome," you leaned up and kissed his cheek, using the other hand to caress the opposite cheek.

If he wanted soft, soft was what he was going to get. He knew it was dangerous to request sexual favors that included gentle actions from you. He knew your soft touches would fan the ache in his heart, but he couldn't help it. Maybe somewhere inside of him he just wanted an excuse to hold you close and "accidentally" let some sweet nothings be whispered in your ear. Your lips came together much slower than they usually do, gently pressing together as your eyes closed. His large hands rubbed your hips, fingers kneading into your soft flesh as he easily lifted you from the floor. As if from muscle memory alone, your legs wrapped around his waist as much as they could, happily clinging onto his built figure. The oversized king bed came too soon, your back meeting the plush sheets as Jiraiya's kisses began to trail down your jaw. His lips were warm and harsh against your skin but far from unwelcome. You knew what was coming but you still gasped quietly the first time he sucked the skin of your neck into his mouth.

"You drive me wild," his voice was low and rumbled against your throat, sending a shiver down your spine.

His hands wandered from your hips to your chest, playing with your boobs through the thin bra you wore. One of Jiraiya's favorite things was to leave love marks on you, all over you to be exact. Usually, you wouldn't allow it, marking up the merchandise and all. But for him, it was worth it. Not only did he pay more than enough to mark you, but you always felt almost proud to wear his hickeys on your neck and body after a session with him. It definitely helped you pretend you were truly his until they faded that is. Then you'd just have to wait until Jiraiya's name showed up on your booking schedule again. Though unbeknownst to you, your customer felt quite the same about the love marks. He knew very well he was lucky you allowed him to leave them and he'd be lying if he said he didn't go into the village the next day just to get a glimpse of you proudly displaying what he left you.

You tried not to rush things, going at whatever pace he set for the session, but it was hard not to get slightly greedy with such a mountain of man within your grasp. Thankfully, your partner picked up on your gathering impatience and began to slowly unwrap you from the lingerie you had on. The action wasn't empty of affection, quite the opposite. Each time he revealed more skin, his fingers lingered, his touch warm and gentle against you. Once you were naked it was more obvious how overdressed he was. So, you set about fixing that fact. His layers were peeled off one by one until he was left in his mesh shirt and underwear. This part, you loved to lay back and watch as he slowly stripped the rest, his shirt pulling up and revealing more of his abs and toned chest. Ugh, Kami, he was so hot for an older man. So many of your clients were tolerable at best, but Jiraiya? Quite literally the definition of 'you'd let him hit it for free'. But again, you had rent to pay.

Once you were both naked came the part where you two adored the other's body, not a usual part of your rendezvous but he wanted softness today. His rough fingers played with your nipples, shit-eating grin spreading across his face as you moaned and whined when he tugged them. Meanwhile, your hands roamed over every inch of him that you could reach, which currently only entailed his shoulders, head, and top of his chest. But that was enough for you to reach down and play with his nipples in return. The way his face reddened with blush almost made you giggle, but he twisted yours teasingly to get back at you. Jiraiya could seriously tease you for hours on end if it were any other day than today. Today, he had other plans, he needed emotional sex but he also needed it sooner rather than later.

His fingers were tracing along your slit, gathering up some of your wetness to spread it around more. He lazily rubbed at your clit as he kissed you, teeth nipping at your lips just lightly enough to make it hurt but not draw blood. It was a bit dizzying to have a man above you who could so easily kill you with minimal effort, yet each of his movements was filled with nothing but adoration. Part of you hated how tender he was with you every session and the other part that was head over heels in love begged him to continue. Your hips ground down against him, a whine falling out of your mouth before you could even help it. He exhaled a quiet laugh at your desperate reaction and did it again, only slightly harder this time. Teasing was a given when it came to Jiraiya unless he was really drunk. But hell, this time you were almost sure he was completely sober. It really must have been a rough mission if he didn't stop at the bar first. The thought made you want to stop him and give him all the extra attention in the world. The only thing stopping you was your business professional side. It'd just be too much, too risky to make a move like that. You'd be able to pamper him in due time and then it wouldn't seem out of place.

In the meantime, Jiraiya finally slid a thick finger inside of you, probing your insides like he was trying to test something out. His tongue stuck out slightly, caught between his teeth with a determined look on his face. If there wasn't a finger curling inside of your pussy you would have laughed at the expression. He pumped it in and out slowly, gently prodding for your g-spot. As he explored your insides he slipped another finger in, taking care to slowly stretch you out for him. He leaned his head down and let his tongue join in on the party, pressing it flat against your clit. Your head fell back against the bed as your fingers tangled into his expanse of lush, white hair, tugging gently to try and get more out of his mouth. He grinned against your thigh, a third, thick finger pushing into you. The stretch was now slightly uncomfortable, but you both slightly knew you had to endure it, or else the main event wasn't going to be as enjoyable. And Jiraiya always wanted you to enjoy it. Truly, he was the best client you ever had and it wasn't fair that this was just no strings attached business.

His tongue circled your clit before his teeth grazed your bundle of nerves, sending a shiver down your spine. Then he started a session routine, spelling out his name against your clit with his tongue. Again, you wish you could laugh during the cheesy action but it felt too damn good. The low rumble of his voice against you had your hips grinding down against his fingers. His fingers which still thrust in and out of you, changing positions and angles every now and then, intent on finding your g-spot. When his fingers finally made you gasp, he grinned devilishly and your grip tightened in his hair, knowing you were in for a ride now. Once they zeroed in on their target his fingers barely changed angles, repeatedly hitting your sweet spot. His mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking gently as his other hand slid down to your other hole. At first, he just teased, swirling his pointer finger around the puckered hole before using some of your pussy juice to slowly push in. The pressure from the extra finger had you gasping out his name, the assault on your other private parts far from ending. Your legs defied your intent to hold out longer and began to shake, the warm spasm in your lower stomach fast approaching.

"Fuck! Oh Kami, Jiraiya! Fuck I'm cumming!" cuss words continued to fall from your lips between moans as you came on his face.

Your juices properly soaked his stubble-covered jaw, more proof he didn't even bother going home before seeing you. As your legs spasmed he kept sucking your clit, welcoming the feeling of your plush thighs wrapping tightly around his head. A good three minutes later he finally let you have some reprieve, removing his face and hands from his body. Your eyes met his gleaming ones as he brought one hand to his mouth, sucking his fingers off. The skilled tongue that made you fall apart, swirled around his fingers, intent not to waste a single drop of your sweet juice. He had little to no reservations when it came to sex, happily sliding his finger from your other hole into his mouth, sucking it off just as he did the others. Next time you just might have to ask him to use his mouth on your ass… but for now, it was your turn to get your mouth busy.

Jiraiya had other thoughts, leaning up to kiss you again and slowly grind his hips against yours. He kissed you for a while, savoring the taste of your mouth, and went to line himself up at your entrance before you stopped him. Concerned, he looked up at you and was about to ask if something was wrong before you gently pushed to flip him over. Now with a look of understanding he chuckled softly and laid back against the pillows, arms tucked behind his head. Hair sprawled around him and arms flexed he looked like a true Adonis before you, even including the brutal scar on his chest. If anything, the scar just made him more god-like. It was a testament to what he did for a living, how self-sacrificing he was. There was only one thing that could make the view better: a lower perspective.

Your hands rubbed against his skin, just taking in the feel of it. The feel of his scars, the feel of the tensing muscles beneath, the intoxicating feel of his pulse beating beneath your fingers. You grinned as you brushed your fingertips along his pelvis, savoring in the shiver he always gave you. His hips were so sensitive it was almost cute. You leaned forward and kissed a trail down his abs, leaving little love bites along the way. Time didn't mean anything right now, so you took as long as you wanted, paying extra attention to leave darker marks along his hips and purposely avoiding where he wanted your touch most. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, trying not to think too hard about the sweet ways you touched him. Oftentimes, he had to remind himself that these affections from you were bought, if he hadn't bought this time with you, you wouldn't be here. The kisses and marks you left all over his body were just for sexy times. The gentle way you admired his body was just to keep him coming back, to keep him thinking you cared for him on a personal level. Damn, his thoughts got carried away again. He couldn't help but think of what waking up next to you would be like, you smiling-

His eyes flew open and he groaned as you licked up his cock. The grin you had on your face made him groan again, damn your sinful actions. Your lips wrapped around him and he locked eyes with yours as you slowly sank your mouth down his length. The gleam in your eyes drove him wild, watching as you took him inch by inch, careful not to gag. That is, until he gave you a cocky little thrust of his hips. You gagged and choked at the unanticipated movement, taking your mouth off of him, your hand relaxing it.

"You bastard! You ruined my rhythm!"

Jiraiya chuckled before grinning, "Oh but you sound so cute gagging on my cock, darling!"

His happy go lucky tone laced his words, making you roll your eyes as you pumped him. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your mouth around him again, determined to make it all the way down him this time. You knew he'd thrust again, but now you were expecting it and you were able to relax your throat more, grinning around his cock when you didn't gag. Jiraiya only grinned, proud that you caught onto his little game and resorted to letting you have the reins again. One of his large hands reached down, gathering your hair from out of your face to help you and so he could see better. Your head finally met the coarse white curls at the base of his cock and you held yourself there for a few moments. You swallowed a couple of times just to hear the man beneath you moan before you slowly began to slide back up, swirling your tongue around his tip. Kami, his face looked so good with the blush dusting his cheeks and chest. You'd give him all his money back just to have this view all to yourself. Still, you had the power to make him fall apart even more and you had every intention to do just that.

Again, your mouth surrounded him and you went down his length quicker this time, although you didn't go down all the way. Your rhythm took a few tries to perfect but you finally found it. Hollowing out your cheeks a bit you bobbed your head on his cock, twisting slightly as you went up and down. For a bit of cock you didn't force your mouth to go down on, your hand picked up the slack, rubbing around it while your mouth worked. Jiraiya's other hand came down to join his first in your hair and when your eyes met his he groaned. You looked so good when you were desperate to please him. He was comfortable enough with you now that he didn't even think of holding back all of his noises, even if they were the high pitched whines he let out when you played with his balls. Or the gasps when you gave him a taste of his own medicine and pushed a finger into his asshole. His hips twitched at the sudden pressure and he almost comically began to fall apart beneath you.

He panted and moaned, thighs tensing when you pushed another finger into him, "Damn it, fuck, (Y/N)... Darling please…"

You moaned around his cock before popping his cock out of your mouth, pumping it with your hand, "Mmm, what is it dear?"

His face was beet red and his chest near heaving, "Don't wanna cum like this…"

"Ah, that's right, I forgot geezers like you can only go so long." you grinned at him and let his cock free.

If it had been any other client, you wouldn't dare speak to them like that, but for Jiraiya, it only fired him up more. He smirked back at you and easily leaned down, lifting your body from between his legs. Before you could comprehend you were on all fours, ass properly displayed for the man behind you. His hands spread across your rear and massaged your ass before spreading your cheeks. The tip of his cock pressed at your entrance and you whined, trying to push yourself back onto him. He laughed at your desperation but still obliged, pushing into you slowly. Kami, he filled you so well, dragging along your walls perfectly. He didn't stop until his hips met yours, pushing his pelvis into your ass, staying there for a long moment. With a grin, he ground his hips against yours before pulling out almost all the way and then slamming back in.

It made you gasp and grab at the sheets for balance, the pace was both torture and pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, no doubt going to leave bruises as he continued fucking you. After a few minutes, he finally sped up, his cock hitting against your deepest parts. He leaned over your back and pressed kisses into your shoulders before trailing up your neck. His hot breath against your skin was enough to drive you wild and mixed with his groans you felt tingles fire through your body from your ears straight to your pussy. Your whines egged him on and he once again sped up, fucking into you with vigor now. The lewd sounds of your skin slapping together was like music and only sounded better accompanied by the noises you both were making. One of his hands slid from your hip and a thick finger rubbed at your clit, the extra stimulation making you groan and bury your face deeper into the blanket beneath you. You could feel your thighs shake, threatening to give out as your pussy clenched around his cock. Your cum properly wet his cock more and a bit of his thighs too, but that wasn't going to stop him.

Jiraiya fucked you through your orgasm, slowing as you came down before he roughly flipped you over onto your back, taking in your post-orgasm face, "You look so gorgeous like this darling. I could stare at you for hours."

His voice was deep and you sighed softly at his words, legs opening wide so he could slide back inside of you. Gently, he took your legs and pushed your knees towards your chest, leaving some room so he could lean down between them and kiss you. The position let his cock slide in deeper and you moaned feeling him hit your cervix. "Kami, Jiraiya, just fuck me already, I want your cum!"

He smirked and thrust roughly, making the breath catch in your throat, "You want my cum, pretty girl? You want me to fuck my baby into you?"

The words weren't supposed to come out. Not like that. But he always was a sucker for dirty talk so he wasn't really surprised with himself. You, on the other hand, were slightly shocked. Or at least you would have been if you weren't so horny. His words made you moan at the thought and you knew you wouldn't be satisfied until you felt his cum inside of you now. He did prefer to go in raw, but every time before this he had no qualms about pulling out. Briefly, you wondered what changed and if maybe it was all talk, but regardless, you couldn't help but lose all inhibitions at the thought of feeling his cum inside of you.

"Yes! Fuck your baby into me! Fill me up, Jiraiya, I want everyone to know what you've done to me!"

He growled and pushed your legs closer to your body as he nearly laid down on top of you. The heaviness of him added an extra warmth of protection, bringing you two closer physically and a bit emotionally as well. Now, you were so close you could lean up and kiss him, his hot breath on your lips, his intoxicating smell filling your nose while his hips quickly thrust in and out of you. Cuss words and praises fell from his lips, muffled by your skin as he fucked you harder, barely holding back at all. It was appropriate that he had you positioned in the mating press, adding to the feeling of the moment. You let yourself get absorbed in the fantasy, pretending he was saying those words under different circumstances, that he really meant what he said.

"Fuck I'm so close," he growled and his arms wrapped around your back, holding you closer, "You ready for it, darling? Let me hear you. C'mon."

As if you really needed any more convincing, you let it out, legs once again starting to shake as they wrapped around him, "Please, please, give me your cum. Oh, Kami~"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Being forced to be mine, huh? You want to be my little breeding slut?"

"Yes, yes yes! Make me yours!" Your high pitched whines sent him into a frenzy and he roughly began to rub your clit again.

You were already over sensitive so when you felt him bury himself to the hilt inside of you, you let yourself go. He groaned your name as you could feel his hot cum fill you up, your pussy spasming around him. Part of you couldn't believe he actually just came inside, though the majority of your lust clouded brain was absolutely satisfied that he did. You panted hard and was thankful as he helped stretch your cramping legs. He himself was breathing hard in the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you played with his hair before he began to slowly pull away. His eyes locked with yours as he sat back on his feet, soft cock slipping out of you. When he did his eyes wandered down, watching as his cum slowly dripped out of your hole. But he gathered the drips onto his fingers and pushed it back into you.

"You're going to look so cute, big and round with my baby."

The words shook you from the bliss and you looked up at the white-haired man. The full possible repercussions of your actions crashed down onto you. Before you could voice any concerns, Jiraiya sighed and leaned down, putting his head in the crook of your neck again before filling the quiet of the room.

"I shouldn't have done that."

"I wanted it too."

"Did you really? Or just because I pay you to want it." his voice was gravelly and almost laced with guilt.

You had to say, you've seen Jiraiya through many post-orgasm moods, but this one full of something akin to regret was new, "No. I really wanted it. And… If it happens, then I'll happily welcome it."

He didn't lift his head, he didn't think he could even if he wanted to. Instead, he only held you tighter and finally let himself embrace his feelings for you, "I love you. I don't care about your line of work. I don't care how much I have to pay. Just…let me see you more?"

The breath you didn't know you were holding was exhaled and you looked down at him, "Jiraiya…"

"You don't have to like me back. I'd understand. I just couldn't keep it to myself any longer. (Y/N), you're the only thing keeping me returning to this village."

He looked almost scared as he confessed his feelings, his hands stroking over your skin, eyes avoiding yours, "Jiraiya, I love you too…"

Quickly his eyes snapped up to finally meet yours, his heart felt like it skipped a beat. It took him a minute to fully comprehend your words before he pressed his lips to yours again. The rest of the day was spent together, telling the other all the things you'd been holding back for who knows how long. Not to mention a few more rounds in the bed. Never in a million years would you have guessed a shared breeding kink would finally be the thing that brought you to confess your love for each other.

hope you enjoyed! remember likes & reblogs help me reach more people! :D

#naruto #naruto x reader #jiraiya #jiraiya x reader #naruto x you #jiraiya x you #kinkmas 2020 #smut #naruto smut #reader insert #x reader #x you

579 notes · View notes

extremelyblackandwhite · 3 years

Text

tis the damn season

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x reader

warnings: none

a/n: this is the end and i’ll need therapy because dear god i hate it when any of my projects end. thank you so much for supporting it and reading. hope you enjoy xx

CHAMPAGNE PROBLEMS

There's an ache in you put there by the ache in me but if it's all the same to you it's the same to me ...

There was a sea of people, suitcases rolling everywhere, people hugging their loved ones and there she was, straight out of the airplane holding her worn out, beat up suitcase with her name tag on it. It was a cold day, one of those that reminded her of being by the window with her mother doodling on the fogged glass as the snow laid on the green grass of her childhood home yet there was no snow, just cold. She knew to walk through the doors that led to the arrivals but she stood back, almost as if the cold froze her to her spot. Returning to her hometown meant looking at the road not taken before, the road she couldn’t have taken. Nevertheless, in the midst of chaos of people coming back home for the holidays, she ended up being almost dragged into the arrivals hall.

Immediately she spotted Wanda and Pietro dressed in thick winter coats and hats who were holding a sign with her name. She put on her best photographic smile, walking over to the twins who rushed over to hug her tightly, something she missed dearly when she was away.

- Finally! - the brown haired girl hugged her best friend tightly. - You can never leave me again for this long.

- It’s only for a few weeks, Wan.

- Let me savour it. - she loosened up the hug, handing Y/N’s bags to Pietro who just shrugged off and started walking to the car. - I have so much to tell you. Remember Elizabeth, the girl I copied off for Maths? Well, she got married but she had a baby like 5 months later which doesn’t adds up.

- Shotgun wedding. - Pietro added. - It was so tacky, absolutely awful. I fell asleep for at least five hours.

- Very good gift bags though. I took an extra one for you.

The three walked onto the cold town she thought she’d never have the change to return to. The moment she woke up from what she thought was certain death, her father and the chief of police were already telling her they had set up a witness protection program for her, all the way in Massachusetts. It was nice, she liked the weather, the warm fall colours during October but she didn’t felt at home. She had a new name, new story, in this one she didn’t even have her father not that in reality she ever did. She sat in the passenger seat of Wanda’s car, listening to all the news she seemed to have kept locked inside her mind for when she returned. Her mind as going haywire about what she wanted to know about, she wanted to know about Bucky.

She knew he couldn’t be happy if he had discovered it which she guessed by now he had. Several times her father had told her he’d employed several men to try and find her and had even told her to stay away until Christmas. Of course the only reason he wanted her around was so she could drive him from the bar after he drank his weight in beer but she couldn’t help but do it, she promised her mum she would take care of her dad no matter what happened. Yet, she still wanted to know about Bucky. She wanted to know if he hated her, if he had put a hit on her head. It kept her awake at night, every night, bugging her like a bad memory.

- Are you sure you wanna stay at your dad’s? You can stay with me and Vision.

- Of course she doesn’t want to stay with you. What kind of name is Vision anyway? - Pietro rolled his eyes.

- HIS PARENTS WERE HIPPIES. We’ve had this discussion. - Wanda playfully threw a empty water bottle at his brother. - Don’t you want to spend Christmas with someone who will actually be in the house during Christmas?

- I promised my mother, Wan.

- C’mon. If it’s because me and Vision will be there, there’s no problem. Remember Michael? He still wants to go out with you.

- I don’t want to go out with him.

- Yeah, Wanda. Y/N liked James Barnes. - Pietro muffled in a laugh, receiving a death glare from his sister. - What? It’s true.

- Y/N does not like someone who wants her dead. Don’t you remember when one of his friends was on campus and he had a gun?

- What? It’s just like Mr and Mrs Smith and for one, it’s something I’m interested in. Good for her.

- What about you, Pietro? Where’s your girlfriend? - Y/N smirked, crossing her arms as Wanda parked in front of Y/N’s childhood home.

- Which one?

- You’re a lost cause. - she opened the passenger’s door, going around to retrieve her suitcase.

- Call me if you’re alone during Christmas or Christmas Eve. Vision and I will come and set up a dinner with you.

- It won’t be necessary.

- Just call me, okay?

- Okay, Wan. I’ll see you tomorrow.

The red head smiled before driving away. Y/N stood on the cobblestones of her sidewalk waving goodbye before it was time to go meet her father. Her relationship with him was at best strained. When they didn’t find the shipment they wanted, he subconsciously blamed her along with constantly talking about how Edward could’ve died but he was luckily alive with a limp. She wished he had more than a limp but saying anything against his ward was absurd and completely forbidden. She was almost sure he’d spend more time at the hospital with him than her. Nevertheless, she was here and as she stepped into her porch, there were no Christmas lights, no garlands.

Flashbacks invaded her mind of sitting on the wooden stairs as her mother wrapped every surface she could in garland, wrapping the lights around the columns while her dad worked overtime. The two would then sit on the stairs with cups of hot cocoa, Y/N always preferring white chocolate hot cocoa with pink marshmallows and watched the lights go up for the first time. Every year she expected there to be lights after her mum was gone but they never showed. One year she tried to put them up but she soon came to realise the lights that held whatever sweet memories an object could hold were lost and gone. Everything was gone. She didn’t know why she expect it to be here.

Her keys jiggled as she opened the door to her childhood home. It was always messy, dusty, her mother’s yellow coat still hanging on the coat hanger the day she returned from the hospital. The house was a snapshot of that day, never changing, her father didn’t allow her. She knew why, she always knew why, she just refused to say it, she refused to say whom her father believed was the cause of her mother’s death. She refused to say it because she knew who it was and it wasn’t who her father thought it was.

- Dad? - she left her suitcase against the entry wall, walking further into her house and into the kitchen, liquor bottles on the floor near the chair were her father was sitting, still in his uniform, shirt tightened over his beer belly. - Hey dad, how are you?

- Y/N, darling, can you get some some of the liquor from the cabinet?

- Sure, dad. - she turned around, reaching into the cabinet, right at the end of it where she kept a bottle with water which tricked him all the time. - How’s the precinct?

- I think you know.

- You shouldn’t make catching him your target. Your target should be to protect innocent civilians.

- What would you know about it? You failed us.

- I’m sorry. - she looked down at her shoes. - You know ... I smell snow.

- You can’t smell snow, Y/N. There’s no such thing.

- C’mon... - she held his hands in hers. - We can make some hot cocoa, like mum used to do.

- Your mother would’ve been ashamed of you. - she shook his hands away from her, pointing his finger at her. - You caused another officer to get shot, you have no integrity. I shouldn’t have put you in the case.

- I didn’t. - she took a step back. - I told you I didn’t and you don’t believe me. Barnes didn’t try to shot me and Edward stepped in, you saw the report, the bullets don’t match up. He tried to shot at Barnes.

- He’s the most experienced shot I know, if he wanted to have gotten Barnes, he would’ve.

- He would’ve if I hadn’t stepped in front of it.

She turned around, tears watering her eyes and making her vision blurry as she walked further an further away. She kept walking, away from her house, away from her street until she was the furthest from it she could. The wind blasted her hair in different direction, freezing through her thin, useless jackets. She could smell it was going to snow, she could always smell it, the smell of freshly fallen and there she was, having forgotten her jacket. It was late into the night, no establishment was open and all she could wear were her boots against the slight frozen layer upon the cobblestones. She should feel hurt but she found herself in a numbness of state, the image of waking up in a hospital room all by herself much clear in her mind. She continued to walk until a purple light lit up her face.

She looked upwards, the title of the old establishment she used to work in blasted into purple light. Now, she was a rational being, a true believer of think before you act but she was cold and seemingly no longer held fear of her own death. Life is ephemeral and if she was meant to die, if fate was a thing then let it be. She went through the bodyguards entering the club that despite being almost Christmas Eve was filled with people.

Meanwhile James was leaning against one of his club’s walls, cigarette hanging from his lips. Filthy habit he knew, but he did it when he stressed. It soothed him, yet it seemed like all self destroying things soothed him. His eyes lingered against the empire he had built which now seemed so stupid. All material things and a few kills to remember him by when he died. He wondered if they would even remember or if when he breathe his last breathe, he’d be erased as quickly as he came to be. No one remembers what came in between and James did not create the business, he just perfected it. Nothing surprised this old dog anymore until tonight. He thought his brain was playing tricks on him as he saw her pass through the doors, hair covered in a knitted hat yet as quickly as he saw her enter, the quicker he saw her leave.

- Steve, follow her. - he immediately told the blonde who was happily chatting with his newly wedded bride. - Tell me where she stops. You better not lose her out sight or you won’t have any children.

Y/N was fast out, the moment she felt the warmth of the club. She no longer knew what she was doing, much too lost in whatever pain mixed with unresolved feelings she had. Nevertheless, she was out, and immediately calling Wanda. She was out on a date but offered to stay at her house and that was enough. She needed to sleep, consider what she was doing here and then return to Massachusetts. She could get used to being Elizabeth, the orphan girl who went to Harvard. She could be Betty, she could be someone on paper. She just didn’t know how to be Y/N anymore. She had to go back.

Wanda’s new place wasn’t thankfully too far and per usual she hide the key behind her petunia vase. Inside it looked exactly like what she believed her best friend’s dream home looked like but she deserved it. She deserved Vision, she deserved all this happiness and she wished she could stay behind and watch it.

She stripped out of her frosted clothes, walking into the bathroom to take a warm shower. “It’s no use dwelling on the past, sweetheart. It’s already gone.” her mother used to tell her and she guessed she was right, what use was it for her to wonder what if? There was no what if. She was a dead woman if he knew, but Y/N was already dead even if she didn’t. The last name ended with her, the genetic tree of her ancestors ended with her and she guessed it fit, destroyer of trees and blood.

She felt the warm water drip down her body and onto the porcelain floor of the shower, the foam making the air smell like wild daisies on a summer afternoon. It felt warm, it felt nice, thoughtless, to be only the essence of life without the obligation of thought. Just seeing, living, greatly dissolving into the fabric of nature. Stepping out of the shower, thought evaded. She was expecting to see him, to look at him one last time before she was gone. Yet again, what use was to look into someone who’d she betrayed? It was no use.

She involved herself in the white fluffy towel, walking into the kitchen to rummage through whatever Wanda and Vision had. Wanda was always a fun of tropical fruit so she knew she probably kept something yummy for her.

- You’ve always toyed with probability, petal. - she turned around once she head that voice, heart clenched yet beating faster at the same time. - It is very dangerous for you and for you friend. Easy lock, windows open.

- If you’re going to do it, please do it outside where we won’t stain my friend’s apartment.

- Oh petal ... - he took the gun from the holster which was always close to his legs. She had been shot before, she didn’t feel it, it didn’t hurt. She closed her eyes, waiting for the sound but the only sound that came was his gun hitting the floor. She opened her sides, watching as he slide the gun over to her, it reaching her feet. - I thought we were done with you being afraid of me.

- James ...

- Bucky. - he corrected her, still standing on the opposite side of the room. She stood there motionless but he started walking up to her. - You think I want to kill you.

- The worse thing I have ever did was what I did to you. Besides, Wanda saw one of your friends on campus with a gun.

- We always carry guns, petal. The question is what have you done to me?

- I’ve betrayed you.

- Have you? Because I don’t remember my shipment being intercepted not that it would, I lied to you.

- You lied to me?

- I never doubted your ... your affections towards me but I did doubt your loyalty to your father. I was surprised.

- Were you?

- No, I lied. What I was surprised about what that you took a bullet meant for me. What the fuck were you thinking? You could’ve died.

- I don’t know.

- You ran away from me. I wanted ... I ...

- What did you want, Bucky? - she cocked her head to the side, examining him and whatever his thoughts were doing to him.

- I wanted you. I wanted to have been by your side when you took a bullet for me, I wanted you in my bed, not in my bar I hate watching other men ogle you. I wanted you to marry me and carry my child. I wanted to give you everything I have and some more, all of what I have and all of what I don’t have. I wanted you, the captain’s daughter. I adored you.

- You don’t know me.

- I know you. You’re a terrible liar, can’t lie to save your life. Your heart ... - he stepped closer and closer to her. - Is on your sleeve. You might not know who you are or you might forget it but when you do remember I control everything but you control me.

- Bucky ...

- I just wanted to see you’re alive and well. I’ll leave and promise you’ll never see me again if you want.

- You didn’t ask me what I wanted.

- What do you want, petal?

- I want you to kiss me.

- I know where that ends, petal. - he smirked, hand searching for hers. - Very tempting of you to do those things to me.

5 YEARS LATER

It was cold, the sort of cold Bucky had began to hate, the sort of cold he felt whenever she left early in the morning to go to work but it was the sort of cold which mixed with sweet memories. Nevertheless, there he was, at another meeting, hearing whatever bullshit excuses Rumlow had to give him. Steve had been the one to suggest taking his territory rather than just off him yet taking care of a damaged business with an even more damaged partner was doing his head in. He stood against the new furnished couches of the bar, drinking his scotch as he heard Rumlow ramble and ramble about how he had good ideas. He had ideas, just not good ones. An hour late he was leaving the godless establishment to return home. He walked home as he always did during winter, watching the newly put up Christmas lights in the streets. His apartment wasn’t too far, having sold his previous one once Y/N moved back to Massachuts to buy one near her and then selling it once she graduated to buy another one. It was close to the bar and she liked it that way, constantly begging him not to go during Christmas and stay with her but business was business. Entering his home, the electrical fireplace was on and his heavily pregnant wife was barefoot, walking side to side and jumping into her dress.

- Stop jumping, you’ll fall and hurt yourself. - Bucky smirked, walking over to her and wrapping his arms around her body. - And we all know you can’t get up when you fall.

- So funny. - she playfully slapped him on the chest. - It’s almost as if this wasn’t your fault.

- How’s our little boy?

- How do you know it’s not a girl? - she smirked. - Nice try, Bucky but you’ll only know when the baby is born.

- You’re killing me here.

- Come on, we have to go to the twin’s baby shower.

- Explain to me again why did your friend decided to do a baby shower after the babies were born?

- So that she would tell us what size clothes they are. - she gave him a soft kiss, leaning against him. - You won’t be your usual grumpy, scary self. You’ll be good to the other dads.

- What will I tell the other dads when they ask me what I do?

- You’re a business man. - she straightened his suit’s lapel. - Isn’t that somewhat true?

- You’re lucky I adore you.

- Come on.

Bucky found it hard mixing both of their lifestyles, but he did it for her. God, he had done so much for her and he only wanted to do more for her. If someone had told him he’d beg the police captain to go to his wedding just to make Y/N happy, he would’ve laughed, yet Y/N deserved it. His father had pretty much set her aside once it came to light she was hanging out with him and he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it. He didn’t have many friends and those he had had completely relationships to the friends Y/N had, nevertheless he tried. He wanted to be the best husband and the best father he could possibly be. Bucky would lay sleepless every single night wondering how he’d do it. How would he go to profession day and tell kids about his job? He couldn’t or he’d traumatise them. Nevertheless, he worried. Y/N was going to be a great mum, the best mum even but him? He wasn’t so sure.

They reached Wanda’s place which was decorated with all sorts of baby blue decorations. 2 boys in one go. If Bucky suddenly had two kids, he would’ve had a heart attack. He barely knew he could be a good dad for one, imagine two.

- Oh my god, you’re huge. - Wanda said as she opened the door. - How come it’s not out yet?

- The baby’s stubborn like his father.

- More like his mother. - Wanda added. - Come see the twins.

There were two bassinets on the living room where Vision was frantically rocking them side to side, Pietro sat in the couch on his phone while most of the guests were still to arrive. Y/N looked over the bassinets, the two babies laying there wide awake which probably explained why Vision looked so overwhelmed.

- Why are they so big? - Y/N whispered to Bucky. - I can’t push something that big out of me.

- Well, think positive, at least you’re only pushing one out of you and not two.

- So that’s Billy and that’s Tommy. I think. - Wanda cocked her head to the side. - Well, Billy replies to his name and Tommy doesn’t.

- Can I hold one?

- Sure. Bucky, do you wanna hold one? - Wanda asked and before he could reply, the redhead had already put a baby in his arms. James hadn’t held a baby, he didn’t know how to hold a baby yet there it was, a baby. - Aw, look at that Billy or Tommy likes you.

- We’re still working on what colour we should dress one another so we know which one is which. - Vision added. - Pietro is still upset we didn’t name one Pietro.

- Y/N you will name your baby Pietro if it’s a boy.

- Absolutely not. - she said as she cooed the baby in her arms. - They’re so beautiful. Congratulations.

- Yeah ... - Bucky handed back the baby to Wanda. - Do you think I can use your balcony?

- Sure.

Y/N furrowed her browns, putting the baby back in his crib before excusing herself. She gave Bucky some time before following him and there he was, leaned against the wall, cigarette hanging from the middle of his lips as his wild blue eyes observed the night sky.

- It’s a filthy habit. - she walked into the balcony. - What’s stressing you?

- Nothing’s stressing me, petal.

- You always smoke when you’re stressed so let it out. What’s wrong? Is it Rumlow?

- Rumlow wishes he could stress me.

- Bucky.

- You’re pregnant, petal. Like ... really, really pregnant.

- We’ve established that. - she looked at her own bump. - You thought it was a food baby?

- I don’t know, looking at Wanda’s kids ... we will have a baby in less than a month and I am going to be a father and I will screw it up. I’m not ready.

- You’re stressed about being a dad? - she wrapped her arms around his neck, soft kind eyes looking at him. - Buck, everyone’s stressed with their first baby. You’re going to be a great dad.

- I should get a new job.

- Not this again.

- Yes. I need to get a new job so the baby ...

- Bucky, you don’t need a new job. - she interrupted him. - Your job won’t put the baby in danger because I won’t let it happen. I don’t know if you remember but I’m very good at deflecting bullets.

- Deflecting? - he laughed. - You’re very good at catching them.

- Either way, you’re going to be a great dad. Steve’s a great dad and he went parachuting without a parachute like an idiot. You take a parachute, at least.

- I see your point.

- James Barnes, in exactly five months you’re gonna be as good as a father as you could be. - she leaned against him, taking her opportunity to take the cigarette away from his mouth and tossing it out the balcony. Her eyes followed up to his face, intently on something. - What?

- I smell snow.

taglist: @lookiamtrying @mariamermaid @sebastianstansqueen @unmagically @buckybarnes1982 @mela-noche @lowercasegenius @randomweirdooo @projectcampbell @sebbystanlover-vk @jevans2 @hollarious @itsallyscorner @tcc-gizmachine @saiyanprincessswanie @stuckysavedmylive @vicmc624 @sebstanfan123

#sebastian stan #bucky #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #bucky imagine #sebastian stan imagine #bucky drabble #sebastian stan drabble #mob boss! sebastian stan #mob boss!bucky #mob bucky

214 notes · View notes